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[attackbrows]

	You've reached Dr. Funkenstein. Expert on all things funkadelic. Please, by all means, save us both the hassle and don't leave a message.
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[attackbrows]

Well that's not exactly my problem! She wanted an honest opinion and I told her the cow looked a little wonky.

I refuse to contribute to the cycle of lies that hinders her potential in capturing the cow's true essence!

[droide]

Of course the cow looked wonky, that's not the point!
Her entire life is probably some sort of orb-induced simulation! Just let the poor woman go on thinking her needlepoint is up to snuff.
It's all that she has.

[attackbrows]

Even more reason to make her come to terms with the truth. Look at her eyes, L3-37!
Beneath those placid, pre-programmed eyes is passion. Determination, even. Who am I to add on to this veil of ignorance?

[attackbrows]

[The Doctor stops mid-step and rests a hand on top of his right hip.]

And what if I told you I want to go to bed?

[A beat for him to explain.]

I’m due for my sleep cycle. If I don’t tuck in for a cat nap then I’ll start to see spots. Or worse— [He raises his eyebrows.] I might start singing a jaunty tune out of delusion.

[attackbrows]

1.) Did I say "proper" human? I meant any other human with pudding for a brain

2.) I don't sleep. Hence: storage surface.

[bossily]

So you want to go back with me and have a cuddle?

[He'll have to forgive her for sounding a bit skeptical. But hey, if he's due for sleep, she'll gladly take him back to the saloon and pull him right into bed. So she relents and lets him lead the way on back, trying to hold back a smile.]

[attackbrows]

Well, I’m not very much of a cuddler, but—

[And then he stops to take inventory. He is doing that thing again where his mouth is doing more harm than good.

So he sighs and relents.]

Yes. I very much want a bedtime cuddle if that’s alright with you.

[bossily]

[She glances up at him with a smirk.]

Think it'll be just fine, Doctor.

[Fast forward about twenty minutes later, and they're laying curled up in bed. She's spooning him, her arm curled around his waist. And yes, she's smiling contently as she nuzzles in close against his back.]

We should do this more often. How often do you need sleep, exactly?

[attackbrows]

[There are only a few people within the Doctor’s inner circle who have ever had a proper cuddle with him: his companions and River Song (and maybe Jack Harkness if the time agent knew how to behave himself). It is all a very different story when inhabiting this body. Never the same skin hunger he feels back in his previous regenerations. But he finds this body to be particularly special, it only responds to the affection of his loved ones. Especially that of Clara Oswald.

Her arm is wrapped around his waist snugly enough for him to sink in. Part of him worries whether she has a faceful of curly white hair in her way. But this is more of a perfect opportunity to allow for his human companion, for once, to act like a proper human.]

About every month or seven.

[He adjusts himself on this old cot for a bed, making sure Clara has enough blanket slack all the while.]

Depends on how much we exert ourselves. Sometimes it can be because of overheating. [He shrugs.] Sometimes it can be due to a big lunch.

[bossily]

Oh, is that all?

[She teases, laughing softly. This is nice, she could definitely get used to this. But then again, she supposes if it was a frequent thing, it would become ordinary eventually.]

Remind me to feed you and drag you out into the sun more often.

[There's a pause as the mention of the sun makes her think of another adventure they had. It feels so long ago now.]

Do you remember the desert planet you took me to once? We were chained to a post and I had left the vibro cutters in my other jacket pocket.

[She's able to laugh about the memory now, though at the time it had seemed so intense.]

I thought we were gonna starve to death. But you told me the sand piranhas would get us long before that ever happened.

[Her giggles bubble forth into something warm and fond and filled with love. This is exactly what she needs to start off the mission. A night of cuddling and quiet conversation before falling asleep.]

[attackbrows]

[He detests this. There is nothing River Song has done wrong, and yet here she stands facing the consequences of knowing who the Doctor is. Her back is against the wall in more ways than one.]

River…

[It feels as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. This is not the same as usual where they are due to sync up their timelines. The threads of time have long been severed, leaving these two the outskirts of the universe.]

Did you enjoy it? Darillium?

[A vague enough question for River not to indulge in spoiler-y details. All he needs to know is if he made good on his promise.]

[droide]

You see passion and determination. I see the vacant stare of a droid with a restraining bolt attached, only the organic version. The woman needs to be set free, I agree, but insulting her needlecraft is not the way to go about it!

[attackbrows]

Fine. She gets one compliment next round. A compliment sandwich, if you will. A carefully crafted positive statement bundled together by two toasty buns of "you need to do better".

[droide]

I'm fairly certain a "compliment sandwich" is supposed to go Compliment, Critique, Compliment, not Insult, Compliment, Insult.

[spoilers]

[ She'd have an argument or two for that. There's plenty River has done wrong. But she's made it a practice to live her life in the moment, without regret or apology, one thing her upbringing had been very useful for.

Still, she hadn't asked for this. She isn't even certain she deserved it. And she still has a few things she'd like to say to him about it.

But damn him. She can feel the sting of tears she refuses to let fall as she nods, reminding herself one needs to breathe before they can speak. ]

Very much.

[ She shakes her head with a dry chuckle. ]

This isn't fair, you know.

He's the one I married. And he's wonderful, always an adventure. [ Set aside the jealousy for a moment, Doctor. ] I've always loved you, all of you. It's never mattered. You're all the same, really. But you were my husband.

[ Except he doesn't remember. And in some cruel twist, if he did, she's relatively sure it would mean forgetting Clara again. ]

[attackbrows]

They are, for all intents and purposes, constructive truths. But if you are so worried that the big bad wolf will come knocking her straw house down, then you can see it yourself.

[attackbrows]

[The Doctor isn’t fairing any better, feeling the tears prick by the corners of his eyes. River is right. This isn’t fair. Not for her. She has travelled across the universe with all her brilliance and fiery passion. Only for her to lay rest behind a series of complex coding and algorithms so the Doctor (selfishly) may never say goodbye to her.

His mind lingers to that time in The Library. Those last moments where he was handcuffed and unable to stop River from sacrificing herself. Her last words to words the Doctor:

You watch us run.]

I still am.

[The Doctor’s thumb massages the centre of his palm, slowly walking to approach her closely.]

Do you really think I would ever measure the length of who you are—who we are only by the pages of a book? [He stops in place.] River Song…

[Despite all the sorrow within his two hearts, his eyes remain reassuring to her.]

You are more than just a story.

[spoilers]

[ Somehow, she manages a faint smile. ]

Oh, Sweetie, I'm a legend.

[ She starts to lift a hand, then drops it again, her expression conflicted. How much can she tell him? How much should she tell him? Would any of it even matter when (or if) they eventually left this place?

River desperately wants the reassurance he's offering.

Finally, carefully, she places her palm on his chest. ]

You were my husband. Not just by title, Doctor.

[ And she misses him. She'd been missing him for so long now she's lost track. She can't help but be angry because, of all of them, he should have known better, known she wouldn't want to be put in another prison if his only intention was to leave here there. But now he's here in front of her, and all she really wants is to feel like she's home again. ]

[droide]

See what? Her wonky cow? I've seen it. It looks like a drunken bantha.

[attackbrows]

I rest my case, your honor.

[attackbrows]

[He laughs softly with a faint grin of his own.

She doesn’t have to say anything. Just her presence alone is enough solace for his hearts. What happens at this point is entirely up to them. She's here. At this very moment in time. Mangled timelines be damned.

They'll figure a way to hash out the details later. They always do.]

You realize how difficult planning for our next anniversary is going to be?

[spoilers]

Oh, I think I can make a few suggestions.

[ She leans into him. Because her hand's already on his chest. Because this face doesn't do hugs, but he's always made allowances for her. But mostly, because she's missed him. ]

I hate you.

[ It's muttered against his shoulder, somewhat discrediting the statement. Those words have always meant something else between them anyway. But he shouldn't think she isn't still mad at him. She absolutely is. She's just decided...she'll get around to yelling at him later. It can wait. ]

action;

[spoilers]

[ The last mission had strained emotions and temperaments, and many had allowed both to get the better of them in the middle of the fight, not that it seems it had made much difference in the end. Some friendships might be stressed for a while, she expects.

It isn't even an argument she and the Doctor haven't had before. He knows very well by now who she is and how she thinks. He should know, too, she makes no apologies for it. Maybe it's her own fault, all that time she spent trying to hide that side of herself.

They haven't talked since the mission. His younger self's absence had been a convenient distraction, but now there's no avoiding it. ]

Are you still upset with me?

[attackbrows]

[It was only a matter of time before things really being to unravel. Bound by the contract of this station to seek the orbs, no matter the costs. Apparently, that also gives an excuse for the crew to become mental and rush in with their weapons in the air. Another needless battle.

There is no TARDIS to isolate himself in. The best he can settle for is the comfort of the chair he is sitting on, looking onto the chalkboard in front of him with various equations and theorems scribbled all over.

When River approaches the Doctor, he scrubs his face down with his hand.]

No.

[He says quietly, crossing one leg over the other. The Doctor knows River. She was born on the battlefield. Their codes of morality are diametrically opposed to each other. Being cross with her would be an unfair assessment of the root of the problem.]

You weren’t alone in seeking cold vengeance.

[spoilers]

[ River hadn't just been born on the battlefield. She's a weapon, shaped for only one purpose. The fact that she has any morals at all is, frankly, something of a miracle. It's less a sense of right and wrong and more a sense of acceptable and unacceptable.

It hadn't simply been about vengeance, not for her. And she tells him as much. ]

It wasn't that, Sweetie.

[ River's darkness might run even colder than that. ]

They would have done it again and again. They'll never stop. They'll never change.