River stared at the Gallifreyan symbols on the ceiling of her room as she danced on the edge of sleep in a post-Infusion, post-Fish haze. The TARDIS hummed with contentment as they drifted through the Vortex. They were in their favorite TimePlace. They were home.

The Doctor still had questions. Many questions. Mostly about the Infusion. Some about Melody. A few about Mels. Some that she couldn't answer about what preceded what or what enabled what. River wondered idly if this post-coital inquisitiveness was characteristic of all Gallifreyan males or unique only to the Doctor. She decided that she would never know, and that it didn't matter. She was used to it by now.

A millennium later, a teenager with ancient eyes climbed the last flight of steps in the Yuliplan Pyramids. He had brought a satchel of small stones with him, but found that he didn't need them when he reach the apex.

In retrospect, he was not surprised to see the circles already carved into the flat stone at the top of the pyramid. He was only somewhat surprised (really, mostly relieved) to see that his circles were intertwined with another to make a unique shape. His residual regeneration energy was not only his own. He knew that; he had felt that, and rejoiced in it, during his final two regenerations. His lives were so much richer for it.

His infusion had already happened. It was already a part of who he is, and was, and would always be.

He stepped into the inner circle, guided only by his instincts.

The Really End