River backs away from him. "Oh, look, your cot! Haven't seen that in a very long while!" She goes to the cradle. He thinks she's trying to change the subject, but she's telling him everything he needs to know. "Can't you read?" she asks. She looks down at the design on the cradle, the concentric and overlapping circles. He looks, too, and realizes that she can read it just as well as he can, which means she knows his name. Which means she's very special, indeed. His face starts to break out into this hopeful smile that he tries to get under control, but it's beyond him. "Hello," he says to her, nearly beaming. "But that means --" He can't say the rest and just gives a drunken little giggle. Then more thinking happens and more realizations dawn on him. "But you and I! We!" He makes smooching sounds and laughs some more. He straightens up his bow tie, feeling renewed and hopeful because anything is possible when you've just met River Song for real. He tells River to get everyone home and heads for the TARDIS, bent on rescuing Melody.
Amy is left standing there in the TARDIS's wake, tears rolling down her cheeks. She turns to River and wants to know what the Doctor said. She picks up a gun and aims it at her. River tells her to concentrate because the TARDIS's translation matrix takes some time with the written word. Amy looks at the concentric circles, which remain unreadable to her. She keeps the gun on River. River says Gallifreyan doesn't translate. Must be hell to sign your checks with all those fancy circles, too. River picks up Lorna's prayer leaf and hands it to Amy. "It's your daughter's name, in the language of the forest," River says. "Except they don't have a word for pond, because the only water in the forest is the river." River promises her that the Doctor will find her daughter. Amy finally looks down at the prayer leaf as the words shimmer and coalesce into River Song's name. "It's me," River says to her parents. "I'm Melody. I'm your daughter."
Rory and Amy stare at her, too stunned to speak, and we have weeks and weeks yet to wring our hands and rail at the universe for making us wait to find out what happens next.
Tippi Blevins really needs a time machine. You can reach her at email@example.com or http://twitter.com/tippib.
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