River Song feels sore all over.
She knows it's mainly psychological - she surrendered herself, after all - but she feels emotionally battered, and the tension is translating itself into pain. She could probably ease it by thinking about it, or by lying down on the mattress they've provided her, but somehow she doesn't want to. She's not sure if she thinks she deserves it, or if she wants to keep it that way to keep her memories alive.
Some things are a very good trigger for recall, after all.
She stares down at her hands and lifts them, slipping the baggy fabric of her graduation gown up towards her elbows. She has been wearing it for days. Months, perhaps. She can't quite remember.
Just above her left wrist, the skin is bruised faintly green and yellow in a clear pattern; healing, but damaged nonetheless. She is only part Time Lord. She turns her hand, following the marks around her arm in their almost perfect circle.
She can remember that. Why she can remember that, when so much of the alternate timeline has been lost to her - even as a time traveller - she doesn't know, but she holds to it.
She recalls his painful, vicelike grip on her wrist even more clearly than she does her own wedding.
There's something wrong about that.
Something wrong about her wedding, too. She's still unsure if it qualifies as valid, or if the Doctor will treat it as such. Unsure if she will, since he didn't ask her, but she does love him. Perhaps if he comes back - when he comes back - she can persuade him to give it another try.
She's glad to remember the one fact she can never tell her jailers: he's alive.
She rubs the marks on her wrist with her other hand, and decides to lie down. May as well rest, since she's going to have to wait.
She'll have to get used to waiting.