I hear your voice in my sleep at night; hard to resist temptation
They saved the world — or a world, at any rate — and when the smoke clears there’s little left standing. A few piles of unrecognizable brick and concrete, the stump of a tree, but there’s one tiny sprig of green crawling up out of the rubble like a hope, and River pauses to bend down and look at it more closely. Crouching near the ground, she watches as the survivors climb out of their bunkers and take a look at their new reality. She scans the horizon too, and finds it bleak as anything.
It’s not an unusual day, for them, not really, but the Doctor’s shaken and she can tell. If she’s honest, she doesn’t feel things half so acutely as she should — certain people and places and aspects of events tug genuinely on her heartstrings, but more often than not she feels things dully, like reality is there beneath the haze the Silence coated her mind with — years of violence and hate and cold, cold beds tamping down on the things that come so easily to the Doctor. Joy, fear, triumph, anger, love; she finds him fascinating to watch, but she can’t often empathize, not truly.
It’s getting easier, of course. She thinks it’ll come in time, and sometimes, unexpectedly, she’ll find herself furious or terrified or totally besotted with the idiot in the blue box. But it comes in waves. Today, the tide is low; she can see the Doctor is shaken, can see it in the tight lines of his face and the overexposed whites of his eyes and the way his hands can’t quite keep still. But she doesn’t feel it.
“He picked up the rusting Handles which flickered into life; ‘Hello,Sweetie’ it said, using the phrase River Song usually employed to greet the Doctor. ‘Don’t call me sweetie,’ said the old Time Lord. ‘It is your preferred form of address,’ stated the Cyberhead. ‘If you’re a hot space lady,’ replied the Doctor. ‘You’re a metal head, how’s that going to work?’ ‘Spoilers’ responded Handles, using another of River’s phrases. ‘Stop it,’ said the Doctor.” [X]
He picked up the rusting Handles which flickered into life; ‘Hello, Sweetie’ it said, using the phrase River Song usually employed to greet the Doctor. ‘Don’t call me sweetie,’ said the old Time Lord. ‘It is your preferred form of address,’ stated the Cyberhead. [x]