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Roman is seven when it happens.
The older he grows, the more fascinated he is by what River does for a living and though he’s always bored to tears during her lectures, she retains the hope that the archaeology itself will be a lifelong love. She needs someone else in their household to share her love of preserving history instead of stomping about in it like a child in a puddle. So she makes the Doctor help her install a little sandbox in a corner of the back garden and she spends the afternoon in it with her son. Together, they sift through sand with child-sized digging tools and she watches proudly as he discovers all the treasures she’d hidden beneath.
He grins in gleeful triumph every time he finds something, looking up at River through familiar hazel eyes, ever eager for her praise. She slips her fingers through his floppy hair, admiring the bright blond streaks, and insists that he’s doing a commendable job.
From his spot on the porch, lounging in a garden chair with a heavy book, the Doctor grumbles something rude about useless skills under his breath. River lifts her head and glares at him. He smirks.
“Mum, look!” She tears her eyes away from the Doctor to look at Roman, currently prodding her knee with his plastic trowel. He shoves the TARDIS key under her nose – the one the Doctor pretends he doesn’t know she’d nicked the last time she was on board – and says, “I found the bloody thing!”
River stares at him.
From his spot across the yard, the Doctor doesn’t even try to disguise his snort.
She turns to glower at him. “Charming vocabulary you’re teaching our son.”
“All the better to express himself, dear.”
Sighing at the proud grin on his face, River hides her amusement in another glare and turns back to her son, ruffling his hair. “Very well done, darling. Not the language, mind.” She eyes him sternly and he hides a grin. “Now show me how you -”
The wind changes and the unmistakable, otherworldly wheeze of the TARDIS fills the air around them. “Oh bollocks.” Roman cringes as soon as the word falls from his mouth, wilting under River’s hard stare. “Two of him. That’s extremely very not good, Mum.”
Reminding herself to look into acquiring a swear jar, River stands and shields Roman from view. “Exactly, darling. Doctor?” The Doctor is already on his feet and leaping over the porch railing, crossing the yard to her in three quick strides. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t know,” he says tersely, staring with rapt attention as the TARDIS materializes. “Keep the lad out of sight.”
She nods, swallowing as she glances over her shoulder at Roman, still sitting in his sandbox, shovel and TARDIS key clutched in his hands. “Darling, stay quiet and stay put, do you understand?”
He nods mutely, lips pursed as he tries to peer around his parents at the familiar blue box in the middle of the garden. River looks to the Doctor again but he stands frozen in horror, waiting for the doors to open, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. “You don’t remember this.”
He shakes his head.
“It could be a future version of you.”
He nods curtly. “Might be. If not -”
“I’ll take care of it,” she says, turning to look at the TARDIS again. Her hearts pound in her ears as the doors creak open and when she sees a flash of floppy brown hair and tweed, her breath catches. It’s him. This is the version of her Doctor that she had conceived their child with. This is the same face she sees every time she looks at her son.
And right now he’s stepping out of his ship with a bright grin, shutting the door behind him. “River!” He calls out, flinging his arms wide. “What do you say to a trip-” He stops abruptly, staring at the man standing tense and scowling beside her. His eyes dart from him to River and back again. His smile wavers and she can see the skin around his eyes tighten as he says, “Hello there.”
The Doctor – well, the older Doctor bloody hell this was going to get confusing quickly – frowns at him. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? I’m visiting my wife!” The younger Doctor scowls savagely, stepping away from the TARDIS and toward River. “What are you doing here? Who are you?”
River sighs. “He’s you, Doctor.”
Her young Doctor snaps his mouth shut, eyeing the older version of himself. “Scottish?” He looks pleased for a moment, then wrinkles his nose. “But gray, really?”
“Figured it was about time I stopped pretending to be something I wasn’t,” the Doctor bites out.
The younger Doctor flinches, eyes skittering guiltily away.
“Sweetie, stop insulting yourself.” River scowls at him but her gaze softens when she glances at his younger self and sees him watching her hopefully, like she might still come away with him. “It might be best if you went to find another me, honey. Bit younger.”
His face falls but he nods, forcing a smile. “Right. See you in a bit then. Well, technically you’ve already seen me but…” He trails off slowly, squinting at the ground, and River feels a jolt of panic. “River… why is there a little foot behind you?”
Roman giggles.
River winces and the Doctor beside her huffs, cursing under his breath.
His younger version stares, wide-eyed. “It giggled. River, the foot giggled.”
“It’s not a foot, you idiot,” the Doctor snaps. “It’s a child.”
He steps out of the way, apparently having given up on keeping Roman a secret any longer, and River has no choice but to follow his lead with a glare. Still sitting in his sandbox and gripping his trowel, the boy brightens at the sight of their guest and waves, grinning broadly. Well, so much for staying quiet and hidden.
The Doctor waves back at him. “A child? What are you doing with -” The smile gradually drops from his face the longer he stares at Roman and River knows he’s seeing what she sees every time she looks at the boy. Himself. The very same ridiculous floppy hair, the same chin, and the same expressive, pouting mouth. The Doctor is a brilliant man and with such evidence in front of him, it doesn’t take him long to put the pieces together no matter how much he may not want to see it.
River watches the realization dawn across his face, the way he stares unblinkingly at his son, the way his tall, gangly frame trembles and wavers like he might fall over where he stands. “Doctor?”
The man next to her huffs a gray curl away from his forehead and makes an exasperated noise in the back of his throat. “Watch the tyke. I’ll take care of me.”
River very much doubts her husband’s particular brand of scorn for himself is what this younger Doctor needs at the moment and she shakes her head, laying a hand on his arm. “You stay with Roman. I’ll look after you.” She glances at the version of him still staring at Roman, his face white as a sheet, lips parted in soundless panic. “We should talk.”
“River -”
“I know.” She turns back to the Doctor and looks into pained blue eyes, smiling softly. “But he should at least have some tea before we send him on his way.”
“Tea with a side of spoilers?” The Doctor raises a skeptical brow at her.
“Problem?”
“He can’t remember -”
“Then what’s the harm in answering his questions?” She glances at their son, blinking curiously at the younger regeneration of his father, and says, “Keep him out of trouble. I won’t be long.”
She leaves the Doctor crouched beside their son, still sitting in his sandbox, wide-eyed and staring after them. She approaches the younger version of her husband cautiously, more than a little afraid he might just explode in a fit of sheer bloody panic. She takes his hand gently but he doesn’t react, still staring at the boy. She doesn’t think he’s even blinked once. With a sigh, she tugs on his hand and he follows without a word, his face utterly blank and his movements wooden. Shock, probably.
Some tea will fix that.
If that doesn’t work, she’ll snog him until he starts breathing again.
Leading him through the house and into the kitchen, she guides him to sit at the table and busies herself with making tea, determined to pay no mind to her shaking hands. He doesn’t speak for a long time, doesn’t even flinch when the kettle whistles. As River prepares his tea exactly how he likes it, she glances through the kitchen window and sees Roman whacking his father’s knee with his trowel, laughing brightly when the Doctor threatens to bury him in the sand and let River find him.
Smiling to herself in spite of everything, she takes both mugs of tea and carries them to the kitchen table, settling one in front of the Doctor. “Drink this.”
He takes it mechanically and doesn’t bother blowing at the steam and spilling half of it like he usually does. Instead he sips slowly and stares into the middle distance, not even blinking. River wraps her hands around her mug and watches him, waiting patiently.
“He’s my son.”
It isn’t a question but she nods. “Yes.”
The Doctor hisses out a choked breath through his teeth and puts down his teacup when it trembles in his grasp. He presses his lips tightly together and for a moment River thinks he’s going to be sick. She almost tells him to try putting his head between his knees but before she can, he curls his shaking hands into fists and asks hoarsely, “How long?”
“I found out just after Manhattan.”
His gaze flies up to meet hers and he looks so incensed, so betrayed, that River feels guilt consume her all over again. It’s something she deals with frequently anyway, the knowledge that she had hidden Roman from this version of his father, that he’d died never knowing he had a child the spitting image of him. “You never said a word. River, why -”
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she interrupts softly. “I really am. But I didn’t believe you were ready. We’d just lost my parents and you were so distant. We were both so broken. I couldn’t be sure a baby wouldn’t just push you over the edge. So I waited.”
“You waited until you found him.” The Doctor clenches his jaw, eyes full of self-loathing as he glances away, glaring at his hands.
“You,” River corrects gently. “I waited until I found you, sweetie. At a moment in your life when you were ready for him.” She swallows, reaching out a tentative hand across the table, encouraged when the Doctor doesn’t flinch away from her. She grasps his fingers in her own and squeezes. “I see you every time I look at Roman.”
His lips twitch reluctantly at the name. “Rory would have liked that,” he murmurs.
“I hope so.”
The Doctor drops his gaze, studying the rapidly cooling tea in his cup. River watches him carefully and feels her eyes sting at the sight of his own welling up. “He doesn’t know me, does he?”
She squeezes his hand again, clasping it between both of her own. “Of course he does, sweetie. You’re his father.”
“Not this me.”
“Every you is his father, Doctor. Just like every you is my husband. No matter the face you’re still the best man Roman has ever known and he loves you.”
“But I never know him, do I?” The Doctor peeks at her through his fringe and River finds herself caught in his gaze, unable to even breath as he pins her in place with a look. “Not with this face.”
More than anything, she wishes she could tell him he’s wrong. She wishes she could lie to him and say yes without hating herself or making him hate her but there isn’t any option but the truth, no matter how much it will hurt them both. “No, sweetie.”
The Doctor nods once, swallowing thickly. River watches his chin quiver as he stares at his tea and aches so much she wonders if she’ll ever be whole again. A lump forms in her throat and she grips the Doctor’s hand in a selfish effort to seek comfort. He’ll never even remember this. She’ll have to take away the memory of it before he steps a foot back into his TARDIS but it will stay with her. She’ll always remember this day, the day her sweetie found out the biggest spoiler she has ever kept from him. The day she disappointed him. And when she looks back, River wants to remember that she did everything she could to ease the pain.
“Would you like me to tell you about him?”
The Doctor looks up at her, startled but hopeful, his eyes wide. “Please,” he rasps.
So she tells the Doctor about his son, bits and pieces of information that make up the little boy he won’t truly know for centuries yet. She tells him that he likes fish fingers and custard, that he’s hopelessly clumsy but he loves to jump from trees and the roof and on one memorable occasion Big Ben just to have his father catch him. She tells him about his love for digging in the sand and searching for artifacts.
She tells him about Roman’s tendency to steal grenades from Strax because he likes the big boom they make and the boy’s gentle heart, his propensity to bring home injured stray animals and look after them until they’re well again, that she thinks one day he’ll make a fine addition to the medical field, just like his grandfather. She tells him with a smile about his unfortunate new habit of swearing and his older self’s utter delight over it.
The Doctor listens to it all with rapt attention, his eyes shining and a sad smile tugging at his mouth, drinking in every tidbit like his son is a new universe to learn about and explore. “Is he like you? Can he regenerate?”
River shrugs, staring into her empty cup of tea. “We haven’t done any tests. He’s so young and -” She remembers all too clearly the poking Kovarian and her team had subjected her to. She has no wish for Roman to ever feel like some sort of science experiment. “When he’s older we’ll ask if he wants to do the scans but for now, I just want him to be a boy.”
The Doctor looks at her like he understands and she knows he does, feels it in his tight grip on her fingers and sees it in the guilt lurking behind his eyes. She swipes her thumb over his knuckles and smiles until he brightens.
“We think he has a bit of time sense. He’ll look toward a door moments before someone walks in or complain about a scraped knee he doesn’t have yet. Hums the words to a song that hasn’t been written.” She laughs softly at the thrilled light in the Doctor’s eyes. “He can hear the TARDIS and understand her. And I’ve been teaching him Gallifreyan. You don’t really have the patience for teaching this go round.”
The Doctor ducks his head, nodding once. He fidgets for a moment and River thinks he’s just processing everything she’s told him, the knowledge that he has a son and a family when he probably thought he never would again. And then he looks up, hesitant and hopeful. “Am I a good father?”
“Oh sweetie.” River brings his hand to her lips and kisses his knuckles, smiling. “You’re brilliant. Well, aside from teaching our son how to curse.”
He smiles.
“Cursing is the best bit.”
They both start at the gruff Scottish voice and turn to find his older self standing in the doorway, Roman on his back. The Doctor’s eyes widen at the sight of his son and he stands from the table so abruptly he knocks over his chair. For a moment, River thinks he’s going to bolt from the room in a panic but he stays frozen in place, staring at the boy peering at him over his father’s shoulder.
The older Doctor glances at her with a shrug. “Thought he might want to meet the whelp.”
“What happened to spoilers?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” He nudges Roman’s knee with an elbow. “And the beastie was getting restless out there.”
“Not a beastie,” Roman grumbles. “You’re a beastie.”
The Doctor turns his head with a playful snarl, snapping his teeth. Roman shrieks, wriggling from his grasp and hitting the floor arse first. The Doctor rolls his eyes but River darts a glance at his younger self and sees the near worshipful fascination on his face. She looks again at the man helping their son to his feet with a grumble and their eyes meet. He raises a brow at the question in her eyes, purses his lips and shrugs in a wordless whatever you think is best, dear.
River smiles. “Roman, remember when we talked about all of daddy’s different faces?”
The boy nods, his unfortunate landing already forgotten.
“This is one of them. Why don’t you say hello?”
His father nudges him forward when he hesitates but River only has eyes for the trembling Doctor at her side, his eyes wide and grateful as the boy approaches. He looks like he’s barely holding himself together but he manages admirably, offering the boy a beaming grin as he crouches to his level.
“Hello.”
“Hello.” Roman inches forward another step, eyeing him curiously. “You look like me.”
The Doctor chokes on a laugh. “I do a bit, don’t I?”
Roman leans forward until they’re almost nose-to-nose and River swallows around the lump in her throat, struck all over again by the similarities between father and son now that they’re standing in front of one another. Roman is like a small mirror image of this Doctor. “Our eyes are different.”
Softening, the Doctor nods and manages to tear his attention from the boy long enough to glance at River, holding her gaze. “You have your mummy’s eyes.” He swallows, turning back to Roman. “She tells me you like fish custard too.”
Roman outright grins at him now, apparently warming to the Doctor – even his parents wrinkle their noses at his food choices. “Want to see my room?”
The Doctor grins, then hesitates, glancing at River and his older self, who scowls and shrugs. River nudges him, nodding once. “Go on then.”
Hopping to his feet, the Doctor gestures out of the room with a flourish and taps Roman on the nose. “Lead the way, Roman Pond.”
“M’not a Pond!”
“Sure you are!”
Arms wrapped around her middle, River watches them go and listens to the sound of their footsteps on the stairs. She hears Roman’s eager explanation of all the bits and bobs in his room and the Doctor’s genuinely excited replies to the boy. It makes her smile but when she glances at the older version of the delighted man upstairs, she finds him frowning at the ceiling, eyebrows knit together.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” He drops his gaze to meets hers and shakes his head, forcing a grin. “Just remembering.”
Before she can ask for details, he casts one last glance overhead and stalks from the kitchen, fingers trailing tenderly across the small of her back as he goes. She doesn’t see him again for the rest of the evening but she doesn’t exactly seek him out either. A few centuries of marriage has taught her when her husband needs some time alone.
-
The sound of the Doctor and Roman romping about upstairs is the soundtrack to which she grades essays and rummages through the sandbox for the other things she’d buried and Roman hadn’t found yet. She puts away the toys scattered throughout the house and makes fish custard for dinner, fully aware with each new task she finds that she is stalling.
She needs to take the Doctor’s memories of today and send him on his way but every time she convinces herself to climb the stairs and find him, she hears another bout of giggles or the Doctor counting aloud in the midst of a game of hide and seek. She can’t do it. So she waits, wearing the carpet thin at the bottom of the stairs as she paces, waiting for the Doctor to come down on his own.
He finally does, just after Roman’s bedtime, looking weary but happy. She notices that somewhere during his playtime with his son, he’d lost his bowtie. Hiding a smile as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, she asks, “Have fun?”
“I told him a bedtime story.” The Doctor looks so thrilled, so utterly in love with the child upstairs, that it makes her ache with guilt all over again. “Thank you, River.” He licks his lips, ducking his head. “For today. For… everything.”
She shakes her head and takes his face in her hands. He looks at her silently, eyes wide and wet, and she feels her stomach turn over. He kisses her then, his mouth hesitant against her own, like he isn’t sure if he’s still allowed to with the older version of him lurking around the house somewhere. River digs her fingers into his jaw and arches up on her toes, her other hand threading through the thick hair at the back of his head, pulling him firmly against her. She feels his arms flail for a moment before they settle on her hips, holding her body against his chest. He tastes like the fish custard she’d made him and Roman for dinner and she squeezes her eyes shut, clinging to his coat and kissing him just a little harder to punish them both.
By the time they part, they’re both panting for air, clutching each other at the bottom of the stairs. River strokes his cheek, lowering her eyes to his open collar as she whispers, “You know what happens now.”
The Doctor shakes his head, pressing his forehead hard against hers, his eyes shut tight. “No. River, please don’t take him away from me.”
“Never, my love,” she says fiercely. “I’ll never take him away from you. But it isn’t time yet. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t want to forget.”
“You won’t, sweetie,” she promises. Her eyes find his and she makes sure her gaze is open and earnest, hiding nothing. “I’ll only lock it away. You’ll remember someday, when this happens for you in the future.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, suddenly looking older than she’s ever seen him. Casting one last glance up the staircase, where his son sleeps soundly in his bedroom, the Doctor nods once and says, “In the TARDIS.”
She follows him out of the house, down the porch steps and into the back garden, where the TARDIS waits. The soft sound of her hum is a soothing one, like she’s trying to offer comfort to her thief for what she knows must come next. The Doctor strides slowly into the ship and River follows, shutting the door behind her.
She watches her husband sink down onto the jump seat like a marionette whose had his strings cut and hates herself for putting that defeated, longing look in his eyes, for the resigned set of his stubborn jaw. Crouching in front of him, she puts a hand on his knee and forces out, “Ready?”
He hesitates. “River… where are we? For you? What have you done?”
“Everything.” She tilts her head, smiling softly.
He squints at her. “What’s everything?”
“Spoilers.”
He sighs, eyeing her fondly. “River, are you happy?”
“Incandescently, my love.” She sighs, bending her head to kiss his knee. “Even when you’re teaching our son how to say fuck you in fourteen different languages.”
The Doctor snorts on a horrified little gasp of laughter, his old eyes lit up with mortification and amusement. It’s how River chooses to remember him, the exact moment she decides to lift her hands to his temples and lovingly tuck away the last few hours. She finds a nice, snug room in his head and ushers the memories inside, locking them away and leaving the key hanging on the doorknob – a sweet little boy voice protesting with a giggle M’not a Pond! He’ll remember then, standing in the kitchen beside her and watching his son disappear up the stairs with his younger self.
Dropping her fingers from his temples, River sits back on her heels and watches the Doctor blink and shake his head, frowning. His eyes focus on her after a moment and he smiles brightly. “River! Sorry, what was I doing?”
She fixes a wide grin on her face and says, “You were about to kiss me goodbye.”
-
When she emerges from the TARDIS and shuts the doors behind her, the Doctor is waiting for her on the porch steps, elbows on his knees and gaze fastened over her shoulder, watching the ship fade away. She doesn’t say anything as she approaches but as she lowers herself onto the step beside him, she can practically see the words in his mouth, bursting to spill out. She waits patiently, eyes scanning over the back garden, clean for the moment but destined to be claimed once again by a seven-year-old boy in the morning.
“Do you wish it could have been him?”
Ah. So that’s what’s been bothering him all evening, the grumpy sod. She thinks of him holed up somewhere in the house, listening to his son play with his younger self, the version of him that looks like Roman, the version of him that had conceived Roman with her and had every right in the universe to know him and to love him if she hadn’t been so afraid. Hearts a tangled mess of knots in her chest, River shakes her head. “You are him.”
“You know what I mean.”
She sighs. “I wish Roman could have all of you. I wish he could learn to swear from you and learn how cool bowties are from him. I wish I hadn’t made the choice for you.”
“River -”
“I love you both the same, you know.” She glances at him and sees him look away with a huff. “I can’t believe I even have to say it but clearly you’re an idiot and I have to spell it out for you.”
“Oi!”
She glares, tugging on the lapel of his jacket until he turns to face her. Pressing a hand to his cheek, she waits for him to meet her eyes and says, “You’re both my husband and I could no sooner choose between the two of you than I could choose which of my hearts to cut out.”
He frowns. “You like me a little more than him, don’t you?”
Giving him a hard, unimpressed stare, she says, “Not really. You’re both ridiculous.”
He scowls. “What did you mean by making the choice for me? There wasn’t another one to make.”
“There’s always another choice, Doctor,” she says softly, staring at her knees. “You taught me that.”
“Yes, and the other choice was coming to Bowtie with a fat belly and watching him run as far as his bandy legs could carry him,” the Doctor snarls, bristling.
River snaps her head up with a glare. “He would not have run.”
“No.” The Doctor sighs through his nose, nostrils flaring. “But he would have been a shit father. Which is worse?”
“He seemed to be doing just fine while he was here.”
“Stop feeling guilty. It’s boring.”
She recoils, wounded. Honestly, as if she hasn’t listened to him feel sorry for himself often enough in the past. She feels like someone dropped a lead weight in her stomach and has since the moment the other him bounced out his TARDIS but he can’t bother to listen to her because it’s boring? She turns to gape him, already itching to connect the flat of her palm with the side of his face.
The Doctor watches her with a smirk, brows lifted.
She huffs. “You’re an arse.”
“But what a fine arse it is, my wee psychopath.”
She snorts.
Throwing an arm around her shoulders, the Doctor pulls her snug against his side and turns his head, kissing her temple. “I was so grateful to you, River. You could have just said spoilers and sent me away but you didn’t. You told me about my son. You let me spend time with him. Do you have any idea how much that meant?”
River blinks, eyes stinging, and curls a fist into his jacket. “It’s not enough.”
“It was more than I ever expected from you.” He kisses her temple again, more firmly this time. “Do you know what I remember most about being him then?”
“My fish custard?”
He pinches her side for her cheek and she hides a smile in his collar. “I remember that as much as I loved my son, and I did instantly, and as much as I didn’t want to leave him, I knew in my hearts that you had done the right thing.” The Doctor sifts his calloused hands through her curls, fingertips sweeping gently across the back of her neck. “I was glad that some future version of me was ready to be a good father and so grateful to you for making the choice I never could. So stop feeling guilty. It’s unnecessary and boring.”
Wrenching away from him with a sniffle, River swipes a hand beneath her eyes and turns to him with a trembling frown. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
He scoffs. “I’m not that nice.”
“Yes, you are,” she murmurs. “Come here and kiss me, you complete arse.”
With a grin, the Doctor allows himself to be hauled close by the collar of his jacket, nose brushing softly against her own. He cradles her head in his hands and his mouth is soft and lush when he kisses her and kisses her and kisses her. River presses her palm between his hearts and doesn’t let him go until the door creaks open and little feet pad across the porch.
“Mummy?”
Nipping briefly at the Doctor’s lip as she pulls away, relishing his low growl, River pats his cheek and turns to find her son rubbing his eyes sleepily, frowning at them. “Roman, what are you doing out of bed?”
“Where’s Dad?” He darts a glance at the Doctor and amends, “The one that looks like me.”
The Doctor grumbles under his breath, glancing away with a scowl.
River nudges him. “He had to go, darling.”
Shuffling forward in his Ood pajamas and clambering into her lap – her hearts ache because he really is getting too big for this – Roman settles against her chest with a sleepy sigh. “Will he come back?”
She shifts her fingers through his floppy hair and shakes her head. “Not with that face, no.”
“Oh.” Roman frowns, his head dropping to her shoulder. “I liked him.”
With a watery smile, River buries her face in her sweet boy’s hair and says, “I’m glad, darling. He liked you too. Very much.” Whatever he’d been about to say next is interrupted by an enormous yawn and River laughs softly. “All right, young man. To bed with you.”
“M’not tired,” he protests through another yawn.
The Doctor heaves a sigh and climbs to his feet, hauling Roman from her arms and up. “It’s late, lad. All little beasties such are yourself are in bed.”
“You’re a beastie,” Roman grumbles tiredly. The Doctor swiftly upends his little tyke and tosses him over his shoulder. Upside down and giggling, Roman shouts, “Story first! The one about Auntie Clara and the Cyberman!”
“Nope.” The Doctor walks across the porch and opens the door. “You’ve already had a story from younger me.”
Roman groans. “But you do the voices best!”
Looking smug at that, the Doctor glances gleefully at River, who rolls her eyes and follows him inside and up the stairs. There’s a bit of lightness to his step now as he carries Roman to his bedroom, glad that Bowtie hasn’t taken their son’s heart from him. Ridiculous man, River muses, so jealously guarding those he loves from himself.
As the Doctor tosses their son onto his bed amidst another bout of shrieks and giggles, River enters the room behind him and looks around at the remnants of a day spent with his younger, more childlike father. Toys scattered across the floor, stars on the ceiling, a pillow fort in the corner, cybermen made out of tinfoil on the dresser, and there…
River approaches the bedside table with a soft smile, touching her fingertips to the coarse fabric. The Doctor hadn’t lost his bowtie in one of their games. He’d left it for his son, alongside a hastily jotted note.
Bowties are cool!
Love,
Dad