Staying on Darillium is.... challenging, to say the least. And it's not even the Doctor-it's River.

Two years into their stay, he wakes up to her crawling on top of him, kissing up his neck. He groans, grabs her hair.

"River," he says, voice rasping, "I have class."

He's never been very good at telling her what to do, and has no willpower when his wife pushes for what she wants, so he doesn't resist at all until she speaks again. "That's not a problem, honey. We've got a time machine, remember?" She smoothes a hand over his morning stubble and nips his jaw slightly, distracting him from what she has said for another few seconds.

When it clicks, he sits up abruptly. She leans back on her heels and rolls her eyes as he looks at her questioningly. "Yes, we do, River. But I thought we agreed we wouldn't go in until..." He swallows.

His wife sighs and slides back into bed beside him. "You're right, we did."

"But?" He prompts.

"Nothing. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"River. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, really. This-us- is wonderful. It's just- we don't do anything fun anymore."

"Honestly- We just joined a rebellion and overthrew the monarchy!"

"Two weeks ago, Doctor. That was the first time this year I've needed to use my blaster. Or my brain."

They fall silent as the Time Lord considers what she's said.

"River," He finally says. "Are you happy here?"

He looks at her intently, and she rolls over to face him, gently placing a hand on his cheek. "You crazy old man. Of course I'm happy. Waking up to you in the morning is the most wonderful thing in the world. I love kissing you, I love coming home to you, I love having domestics with you over the damned clothes- that's not the problem at all. I'm just-" She pauses, struggling to find a word.

"Bored?"

"A tad. Aren't you?"

"No." What he doesn't say is how much time he's had to wish for  this- to wish for them- in this world and time that shouldn't be. To wish he could have a chance to give her foot rubs and to watch her burn dinner, to wish to simply stop and be able to enjoy the whirlwind of fire and honey and passion that is his wife. 

She grumbles. "This go-round is so annoyingly patient."

"Either that or I finally have something worthwhile to stop and look at."

She gives in then- this regeneration has a way with words around her, and she always weakens when he says things like that.

"I'm sorry." She mumbles into his chest. "I don't mean to be difficult."

The Doctor buries his face in her hair. "You're River Song, dear. I didn't expect you to be easy."

His wife snorts. "I should hope not."

"But seriously," He hesitates. "Do you want to go?"

"No!" She says immediately. "Not without you, anyway. I just need something to do. The university is lovely and the students are brilliant, but I haven't shot a Dalek in ages."

He mulls it over. "Well, there is a good Dalek invasion going on a few planets over in this time period, if you're interested..."

She rolls him on top of her.

She's definitely interested.

------

So they cheat a little, yes.

Okay, probably more than a little.

He's not sure exactly how long they're off Darillium, but he's certain it's more than the 2 week excursion he'd said it would be.

How much more?

....Probably a couple years or so.

Something like that. He's made a very conscious effort to not count.

They likely wouldn't have returned at all- would've rampaged the rest of the universe and created galaxies and brought down empires hand in hand, passionately, would have used their desire and fervor to permanently carve their image into every legend on every planet in all of time- but something changes.

They're constantly going, constantly fighting and loving and desperately pretending that this can last forever. In the excitement, the intensity of their ardor builds up and up and up until they're so high they're both just waiting for the fall that will inevitably come. But somehow it doesn't. For so long, the Doctor and River Song dance on the tipping point, with steps only they know, but they don't fall off the edge.

Not for years.

But one day they're on a battlefield, in the middle of a Civil War that's been ongoing for months. River's been cut- it's not life threatening, not with her genetics, but she lost a lot of blood and it was an awfully large gash.

The Doctor cuts down her opponent in a hazy red fury, scoops his wife up, and races to the medical tent.

He finds out she's alright, after she's bandaged- he clutches her hand and breathes a long sigh of release.

But then the nurse pauses, looking at her scanner. "Oh." She says softly.

"What? What's wrong?"

The woman shows him the results of the scan. First he skims over the status of her health- she's already recovering- but then he sees something else.

Something impossible.

River is seven weeks pregnant.

His heart thuds in his chest, blood rushes to his ears, his head fogs. He runs the test again, but the result doesn't change.

She's pregnant.

------

River stirs awake for the first time in a day.

But it's wrong.

It's very quiet-much too quiet. Weren't they at war?

When she finally opens her eyes, she recognizes her surroundings immediately. They're back on Darillium. The Doctor isn't in the room, but she can smell bacon wafting from downstairs.

She goes quietly, and wraps her arms around him from behind.

He flips the bacon.

"You know sweetie, it's a very little cut."

He hums, and she can feel his chest vibrate. "It wasn't at the time."

She chuckles. "I've had worse."

He sighs, and plates the bacon beside the eggs. "I know."

Breakfast is a quiet affair. Much too quiet. Her husband loves the sound of his own voice too much to not speak for this long.

He picks up her plate for her, washes the dishes. Sits tentatively on the opposite end of the couch.

"Out with it." She demands. "What's wrong with you? This is hardly the worst shape you've seen me in."

Those blue eyes meet hers, and she can tell- he's nervous about something. "Honey," he begins, squinting at her as he carefully picks up her hand. "You're pregnant."

She opens her mouth, closes it. Blinks once, twice.

"Sorry, what?"

"Pregnant. With a baby. You know, the tiny crying things?"

"But I-" River leans back. "How did this happen?"

The Doctor is obviously amused. "Well, adrenaline does tend to have a certain effect on both of us-"

"I may slap you if you don't shut it."

"Okay, then." The Doctor, true to his word, remains quiet, and holds her hand as her brain whirls.

She shifts in her seat, lifts a hand to her stomach. There's a child. She has a child, and it's inside her, and oh, God, how will this ever work? He's a madman with serious trust issues, and she's a psychopath who's scheduled to die in a few years- they can't raise a child! Yes, she's always wanted one, terribly, but this is different. This is real. Before it was the simple idea- a piece of her, a piece of him, a reminder of what she can't have but, oh, what she loves- and now, there is an actual living being that will enter the world in a few months, that will come out of her, and she'll have to change nappies and feed it and wake up in the middle of the night to rock it back to sleep-

"River," The Doctor says. "River, it's going to be alright."

She looks at him, her husband. The runner. He's still here, patiently gazing at her as she gets her thoughts together. "Why aren't you freaking out?" She murmurs.

He glances at the kitchen. "Already did. I just had plenty of time to clean it up. By the way, completely unrelated, I've bought us a new blender."

She smiles. "Good. We needed one."

"I love you," The Doctor says.

He hasn't said this before, not out loud. She's heard it in the recesses of his mind, felt it drawn on her bare back in the dark, seen it in eyes as he sets down her breakfast and washes her hair, but the Doctor doesn't voice sentiment. Ever.

When she doesn't reply, he continues. "Sorry, I should've said that before. And I have tried, it's just sort of difficult. You know how I am, River. I just need you to know that I am completely here for you, if you don't know already."

It strikes River, then, as she lifts a hand to his face and strokes the weathered lines there, worn by a different man but still earned, just how beautiful her husband is. He's flawed, he's terrifying, he's conceited, he's great and worthy of awe, but he's so, so soft and vulnerable and kind, and he stands for what is truly good in the universe and he will not stand for the destruction of innocence, be it one race or one person. And she knows that he believes he is doing penance, that he is trying to make up for the sins of past, that he is not a good man.

But she also knows that only a good man would try to repent at all.

"I love you, too, sweetie." She says.

[A/N. So if you want a continuation, do me a favor and tell me, please? I was thinking about it, but if there isn't a demand... Also, votes. They're nice. Very encouraging.

Also, yeah, it's another baby one. I'm trash, I know, but I like to think I'm the classy kind. Like what you find behind the Hyatt. No? Okay.

By the way, I'm terribly sorry about all this. I know I'm being awful and annoying and I can not exaggerate how much I hate leaving everyone hanging and not updating, but I was stupid this year. I signed up for a ton of APs (one of which is chemistry- VERY BAD IDEA I HATE SCIENCE), and everything else is honors. And my parents are just angry all the time, because I can't help out much around the house much because of homework, and because I'm making B's and my GPA may not be a 96 this year because I'm trying to help around the house, and also I have no social life anymore and I'm constantly stressed and exhausted. I don't mean to complain, and I know this is really bugging all of you a lot, but I feel like you need some kind of explanation for my lack of punctuality.

...And if you'd send a few prayers my way, I can not tell you how much I would appreciate it. Thanks to everyone reading! I hope you liked it. ]