River/Rose - Ghosts of Christmases Past
"You can't be here now." The soft voice manages to cut through Rose's determined shell in a way only the speaker has perfected.
With clenched teeth, she turns toward her curly-haired not-lover.
"Surprise," she mutters, glancing around for signs of her Doctor, but alas, there is only her curly-haired not-lover.
Her curly-haired not-lover who is standing with unreadable eyes in front of the TARDIS.
Neither's presence surprises Rose particularly, considering that A) the fantastical wooden machine has been humming a warm greeting since her damned cannon landed her in this dimension, and B) River Song seems to be a rather non-linear sort of constant in this future Doctor's timeline, and since her said contraption isn't capable of functioning, she seems to be a sort of constant in Rose Tyler's multi-dimensional misadventures.
But together? Something in Rose shatters at that. It's not that she doesn't know the role River plays in the Doctor's future, or even that she resents the older woman for being his lover, because honestly, the only thing Rose has wanted more than his forever is for his loneliness to ultimately be a thing of the past, and as a mortal it's unlikely she could ever give him a Time Lord's forever. She almost considers River Song another gift of the Bad Wolf, a hand for the Doctor to hold when Rose's has withered. It's one of the many reasons she loves River so much.
But River and the TARDIS together means River and the Doctor are together, right here and now, and Rose Tyler wouldn't be Rose Tyler if that didn't sting just a little.
"Rose--"
"I know," she gasps, lowering honey eyes to the ground. It's not like River hasn't seen her cry before, but again, this meeting is different than any other. "Universe on the brink of destruction, no need for ghosts of Christmases past to get in the way." River raises a brow. "I did travel with him for a long time, remember?"
"Oh, no one's forgetting that any time soon, Rose," she replies with a gentle smile. "Least of all me. Like the Doctor'd ever let me forget about his golden girl." There's no bitterness or malice or jealousy in her tone, but Rose does detect a hint of melancholy, a trace of something Rose thinks she understands rather well.
After all, back when she doubted his love for her, she had been so willing to spend the rest of her days on a rotting spaceship waiting for him to return back from a cracked window of another time and another woman, had it meant his happiness. What was one broken heart compared to two?
River might as well be saying the same. Because even though she has been gifted with a longer lifespan and the ability to regenerate, River still has one heart, is still a human in love with a god (a god who doesn't quite love her yet, who never quite loves her like he does another), and so perhaps she relates more to Rose than Rose has ever thought.
So Rose kisses her chastely, runs a finger across her brow and sighs. "I know you can't tell me what happens next, but I can do the math." River frowns, something pained flashing across her face for a moment. "Something happens to me, and we don't get our forever. But," she swallows, feeling the raw ache of new tears in her throat. "I'm glad he doesn't have to be alone. So, so glad."
Years later, when she tells her blue-suited Doctor about her not-romance with River Song, hearing the end of that story hurts a little more than she thinks it should.