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He was dying.

The universe was mocking him - requiring a friend to be the harbinger of his doom - but he supposed that after Mars he deserved it.

They’re my friends, he thought at the universe, and if you’re going to use them to kill me, then I’m going to see them all before I go. The TARDIS would help him, he knew she would, and so he set out on a journey.

The old Companions, Jo and the others from so long ago. Mickey and Martha, and they had found each other and wasn’t that brilliant? Sarah Jane and her son. Jack and Alonso, and there was a good deed; they needed each other. Verity Newman and Donna’s wedding.

He sighed as he climbed into the Old Girl. So tired. One more - Rose - and then he would...

But when he stepped out, it wasn’t Rose he saw.

It was her, River Song, her hair all soft and wild about her face and wearing civilian clothes, sitting on a picnic blanket with a basket nearby. “What,” he said, and it wasn’t exactly a question. She looked up, and for just a moment, he thought he saw an expression of shock on her face, as though he wasn’t who she was expecting. But she recovered quickly.

“Hello, Sweetie.”

He knew she was a time traveller, knew that from her perspective they hadn’t met at the Library yet, but... he swallowed hard so he could speak. “Professor Song.” Her face grew very still for just a second and then she threw him a little half-smirk, but her eyes... god, her eyes, so sad... and he remembered the note. Just... be kind to her. “May I join you?”

She gestured at a spot on the blanket, and he sat, keeping the basket between them. He swayed as a wave of dizziness hit him and she looked at him sharply. “Are you all right?”

Be kind to her. He forced a casual note into his voice as he shook his head, accepting the glass of wine she handed him. “Dying, actually.” She looked stricken so he hurried on. “It’s all right. I’ll regenerate.” His voice grew bitterly angry in spite of his best intentions. “Into the me you know, I expect.” Damn, he thought at the tightly controlled look on her face, now I really have hurt her.

“I love you,” she said with a simple dignity, “No matter the face you wear.” She took a deep and ragged breath, and he cursed himself internally even as he hid his face behind the wine glass. “Is there anything I can do for you? To make it... easier?” There were tears behind her voice and he shook his head.

“Just... this.” He gestured at the picnic blanket. “A respite before I must go.” She smiled at him, a real smile this time, and he relaxed. They sat quietly for a while, drinking wine and nibbling on cheese, and finally he stood up, catching himself as he swayed dizzily again. “Thank you, Professor Song,” he said, “For the picnic and the... company.” He staggered and she sprang to her feet and steadied him. “I... have to go. I don't have much time to...” He trailed off, but she knew.

“Doctor...” Her voice was soft, and she looked so sad. “I am sorry, I shouldn’t... oh, spoilers.” She kissed him quickly and chastely on the lips, then slipped one arm around him and helped him to his TARDIS. He climbed in and she retreated to the picnic blanket.

“Professor Song. River. I’m sorry - so sorry - for your recent loss.” He smiled at her, that crooked grin that this regeneration was known for. And then he snapped his fingers and the doors closed.

The TARDIS dematerialised and a new one materialised in its place, and River sat down on the blanket as her Doctor stepped out. “Hi honey. I’m home.” He smiled at her, but the smile soon drained off his face as he saw her expression. “River? Are you all right?” She nodded, but he knew that tight half-smile too well and he knelt next to her, folding his long arms around her. “What is it, my River?”

“Him. You.” She rested her head on his shoulder, her curls tickling his nose.

“I asked him to be kind,” the Doctor said. “I thought I was kind, River, I didn’t want to hurt you, even then. I’m sorry.” He sounded miserable and River pulled back to look at him. He looked miserable too, and she smiled a sad little smile at him.

“He was kind, my love, as kind as he could be when he was...”

“Dying.” He remembered. He had tried, but he had hurt her. But she was continuing her train of thought, her voice strained with the effort of hiding how upset she was.

“Are you so afraid, my love? Every time?”

“Oh River, is that what has you so upset? No, don’t close up on me,” he said, and kissed her forehead. “I am not that afraid every time. I promise. No Rule One. My tenth self was...but my ninth self, I... I wanted to die. I didn’t want to be that me anymore, that man born of fire and pain in the Time War, I...”

This time she kissed him. “I think...” she said slowly, “I think I need to meet them. The other men that you have been, my love.” He was shaking his head doubtfully. “Yes. I won’t rewrite history, Sweetie; I’ll wear a perception filter and these.” She put her fingers up to her ears, and suddenly he understood something that had been niggling at the back of his mind - but he hadn’t bothered chasing down - for decades.

“Bio-dampener earrings, River?” She smiled at him, and nodded.

“Will you and Sexy help me?”

“If you won’t rewrite history...” He nodded.

“Not one line.”

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