Credit to kleighannah
He picks her up in a Leadworth alley between the post office and a café. She's wearing her manipulator, but she looks so brutally beaten down he doesn't question why she's avoided using it, why she's here and not somewhere else .
"Hello, sweetie," he says gently, leaning against the police box's frame. "Long day?"
She pushes herself off the alley wall, coming towards him with slumped shoulders. "Demon's Run."
He hisses in sympathy, pulling her into his arms when she's close enough to touch. Demon's Run is in his diary somewhere, and he remembers her righteous and magnificent as she ripped out his heart and confessed her deepest secrets. "I'm sure you were brilliant," he says into her hair.
"I don't feel brilliant," she murmurs, gripping the lapels of his jacket.
"Oh, love." He threads one hand through her hair and wraps the other around her back. She slides her arms under his, burying her face in his shoulder as her hands spread wide over his back. She stumbles when he tugs her backward, tripping over the step into the TARDIS. He's prepared for it, helps her find her footing again, then kicks out to close the door behind them.
The TARDIS hums beneath their feet, a comforting noise to both of them. And that's enough for River. All her calm, all her strength, shatters and leaves her a shaking, sobbing echo of the woman she is everyday. He holds her there, squeezing as tight as he can while she cries. Quite obviously, this is a Doctor that's seen this before.
As her sobs die down, his soft voice breaks through, crooning words that resonate in her bones. She lets the sound wash over her in waves of calm release. The hand at the bottom of her spine starts to move, soothing strokes and delicate circles. Her breath starts to slow, her heart starts to calm. When her own hands start moving, he pulls back.
He raises a hand to skim it down the side of her face, brushing at the tears clinging to the soft skin of her cheekbones. "Amy and Rory?"
"I left them at home," she answers, her voice raw. "Mum…"
"Loves you," he cuts in, giving her no chance to voice the obviously depressing thought. "Rory loves you. You know they do everything they can to find you. I did everything to find you."
She drags her fingertips around until her hand is curled around his neck and she can feel his pulse beating beneath her thumb. "You did find me."
"I was always going to find you," he promises. He leans down, brushes his lips like butterfly wings over her cheeks, her eyebrows, her forehead. She sighs as he hovers over her lips. "I will always find you."
She laughs despite herself, despite the warmth that's starting to bleed into her skin. "You're getting sappy in your old age."
"Old age," he says, moving away from her mouth to press an open kiss to her jaw. "You think I'm old?"
"Would you prefer experienced?" she asks as her head tilts back. His mouth maps her throat and her neck while one of her hands slides down his chest until she can tuck her fingers into the waistband of his trousers. He flattens a hand against the small of her back as his breath flutters over her ear.
"So experienced. Want me to show you?"
He never asks, so they both know the real question he's asking, the gentle way he's probing whether or not this is what she needs. It's been a very long time since she's turned him down, but today she's broken, lonely. This is exactly what she needs. He loves her, all of her, absolutely and unconditionally, whether strong or vulnerable. This is perfect.
