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She looked into his eyes. They weren’t the eyes she knew. She had been telling herself that he was playing a game with her; that he was acting all young and clueless for the sake of playing hard-to-get. But deep within her DNA – the time lord part – she knew that it wasn’t an act, and certainly not a game. She’d sent her psychic message to him, expecting and hoping to see his familiar face and that her face would be familiar to him, but her hopes were drowned in his brown irises. They hadn’t seen what she had seen; they didn’t flicker with emotion like she had grown used to; they hadn’t cried the tears she’d gently rubbed away time and time again…not yet. They stared into her own eyes emptily, searching for reason or some form of logic about her. It seemed wrong; he used to – or, in his timeline, he will – search her eyes for emotion; a specific emotion. There was a time when he gazed at her the way she gazed at him now, silently begging her to reflect his emotions, but her own gaze hadn’t returned his the way he wanted and hoped for her to. At the time, she didn’t understand. Now it was his turn to unknowingly break her heart, and the worst part was that she couldn’t go further than casting him a flirtatious look or giving an occasional teaser; she couldn’t tell him that one day they would trade places and his soul would be torn apart like hers was in the process of now. She could only keep him guessing, and beyond her sassy smile, batting eyelashes and vibrant lipstick, she was in agony. She reached out a hand and stroked the side of his face, letting her fingernails drag through his spiky hair and then down over his sideburns. A smile slighted on her lips; she’d never seen him with such…crazy sideburns. She knew all of his faces, and each one had a special touch that just made him…him. The force of an old habit moved her hand from his face to his neck. She touched where his tie was looped, about to straighten it when she realized that it was the wrong kind of tie. She sighed; even the lack of that silly outfit composition of bow tie, tweed jacket, suspenders and even a fez once made her want this man to evaporate and be replaced by the man she knew and loved. She knew that wasn’t fair to him – he had to die to become that man. There were times when words needn’t be spoken between them, and the silence sang their song, but now the silence of the library screamed at her, because she knew she couldn’t break it. It tore her apart. She locked her tears away, in her memories, not because she didn’t want him to see her cry, but because she had to – for his sake. In fact, all she wanted to do was let herself go and for him to take her away and cradle her in his arms. But she knew she couldn’t; it wouldn’t mean anything to him yet, and she had to be strong for him. She wasn’t born River Song; but she became her upon discovering her true destiny and what she meant to him. He was the Doctor, but he wasn’t her Doctor. Not yet.