FIC: You Remind Me Of My Family
Summary: Anthony Williams was on the plane to meet his grandparents in Leadworth at last. He reads his parents’ letters over again and thinks about what it will be like to see Brian and the Ponds. But he can’t help noticing a vivacious woman with a great head of curls on his flight and he realizes she reminds him of Amy and Rory.
Notes: "PS" may not be canon since it was never shown onscreen, but Steven Moffat did approve of it, so this shows the consequences of it. Seriously, Chris Chibnall, how could you?
Ugh, this hurts.
Anthony already wished he had brought a book. He needed something to do besides stare at the seat in front of him. Seven hours wasn’t horrible, he was lucky he had a straight through flight, but he had nothing to do but think about Brian Williams and Augustus and Tabitha Pond. That made it hard to sit still. He wanted to be walking up to their front doors right now.
A woman with mousy hair had the seat in the middle next to him. Everything about her was like that. She flipped through the in-flight magazine through a set of amazingly thick glasses and gave him only a cursory smile as he sat down. Another woman sat by the window wrapped in layers as if it was the dead of winter. She said nothing at all.
On the other hand, he saw a woman with a really impressive head of blonde curly hair three rows ahead in the seat diagonal to him. Through the flight, he tried to listen in on her conversation. She regaled people with stories of her travels, but he still couldn’t hear more than a word or two even though she held court with the seats around her. She didn’t speak loudly, she wasn’t obnoxious, and the only time he heard her clearly was when she gave a throaty laugh to the woman next to her who was clearly flirting. Even with that laugh and her flirting back, she gave off an air of Spoken for, but you’re sweet for trying.
Not that he was interested. He wasn’t attracted; he was fascinated. He thought he caught her looking back towards him once or twice and he hoped she’d come back to talk to him. He’d like to hear those stories.
His mother was once a travel writer. He imagined how much she’d like this woman. After all, Amy Pond met many historical figures and traveled everywhere herself, let alone everywhen as she put it. She knew what was under Stonehenge. He was sure the vivacious traveler a few rows ahead couldn’t boast about that.
Thinking about Amy brought back the old pain. Someone who hadn’t lost a parent, let alone both, couldn’t understand how a grown child still hurt from that. Only somebody like him knew the feeling of There’s nobody back there now to catch me or how the pain lasted for years, maybe forever. He had read a quote from Maya Angelou at Amy’s funeral: “I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life.”
He should have brought his mother’s books in his carry on instead of packing them in his suitcase. He could quote them word for word now, but he still loved reading them again and again. Each one was so different: Melody Malone and her second adventure, Angel’s Kiss. He pictured the books in his head including the cover art that made his mother look off into the distance when she looked at it. He never understood why she used it if it made her react that way. It had been her publication company after all; she didn’t insist on any particular artwork for the others.
And her original Pond River publishing house that produced both Melody Malone novels; why, he asked her, had she changed her company to Williams Centurion Press after he was adopted and by the time Summer Falls came out? He knew why the Centurion and Pond, but he asked his mother about why River? She got quiet and then said it was a play on Pond that once was used during her time with the Doctor. He got nothing else about that, not even the story on when she used the pseudonym. Rory told him to let it go and his tone allowed for nothing further.
They came around with the drink cart and he hurriedly pulled in his legs so it didn’t bang his knees. The woman by the window ordered coffee; he began worrying she suffered from hypothermia. His direct neighbor ordered a club soda and turned down the pretzels. He took them because munching on them gave him something to do and he asked for a vodka tonic. The woman up ahead ordered something called “Between The Sheets” that he had never heard of before.
He should attempt to make some conversation with his neighbor. “Are you going to England on business or vacation?”
She didn’t look up. “Business. I hope to be home tomorrow night.”
She didn’t ask him, but he tried anyway. “I’m going to see family.”
She answered in her flat Midwest accent, “That’s nice.”
It was more than nice. He reached into his coat pocket and touched the letters to his grandparents. His grandparents. He would finally meet them. He was a little nervous which was natural, but he knew they understood about the Doctor and how odd things were with time travel. They’d understand a grandchild that was older than them... but he still was the one who had to tell them about New York and his parents never coming home. He was the closest one to what had happened. He hadn’t lived that, he couldn’t tell them anything firsthand. But only the Doctor had been there, Amy and Rory had said, and they doubted he had gone to tell their parents. So that left only him, their “timey wimey” child.
A man behind had stood and reached into the overhead compartment. Anthony ducked to make sure he wasn’t hit in the head by the man’s bag.
“I almost didn’t make it,” he said in another try to be friendly with his neighbor. “My passport and all the other paperwork just kept getting snarled up in red tape. It looked like it’d never happen and then suddenly it got cleared.” He smiled. “I must have an angel watching over me.”
There! The woman up ahead did it again! She looked back suddenly on “angel”. But what were the odds she would know anything about Weeping Angels and the creature who had given him the greatest gift of his life, his adoption?
His neighbor looked up and told him how nice things had worked out, but that was the last thing they said to each other. He leaned past her to see if the passenger at the window wanted to talk, but she ignored him. He kept the sigh to himself. Conversation would have been nice to pass the time.
He glanced ahead and thought about going up to the woman with all the curls. He could talk about his mom and dad and their travels.
But he wasn’t like his parents. He wasn’t putting himself down; he was a good, solid man, but he didn’t have that Williams spirit that Amy and Rory had. People noticed when they came in the room, even his dad who insisted he wasn’t like that. People were drawn to them. They wanted a good story or they needed advice, they went to Rory and Amy. His parents walked into a place and things brightened just by them being there.
Anthony blended in, he didn’t stand out. Maybe that was why he hadn’t married. Not because he preferred men in a time when being gay wasn't accepted. He had met wonderful people, including ones his parents approved of. But he wanted someone like his mother, but never met them. He wasn’t his father either that could keep such a person
His dad once said Amy had needed a friend to point him out as the perfect choice, not that Anthony had missed his match, he added. His son asked if he would meet that friend when he finally got to go to Leadworth, but they went quiet again and finally said she had been wild and was killed in a car accident.
He always hoped his parents would live to come with him on this trip. He never imagined he’d be taking it alone.
He shook off the gloom. His grandparents waited for him and he’d finally see everyone and everything he grew up hearing about.
He got out his wallet and looked at the family photos. He was old school and still carried printed pictures instead of scanning them to carry in his phone. He pushed his seat back and dreamed of happy times.
The plane landed smoothly and he saw his suitcase immediately at the baggage claim. He grabbed its handle and bumped into someone who was reaching for theirs at the same time. It was the woman with the wild hair from his flight.
She laughed. “I look like I’m following you.”
He had at last found someone friendly. “Now why would you do that?”
She tilted her head to the side and gave him a searching look. “You remind me of someone.”
“Someone close?”
She shook her head and she sounded a little sad. “Someone I only heard about.”
She seemed okay with his tagging along, at least for awhile as they both headed outside the airport. “I know what you mean. About someone you only heard about.”
“Oh? Is that why you’re here? I noticed the American accident. New York, right?”
“Right. I’m here to see my family.” They don’t know it yet.
She gave a private smile. “Family’s important.”
“Are you visiting family too? Or off to see something like Stonehenge or the Roman Baths? I heard you say you travel a lot.”
She grinned. “Who’s following who?” The grin faded. “Not family, I only had my parents and they’re gone.” He made sympathetic noises and told her he understood. “And as for Stonehenge, been there, done that.”
He again thought that she had no idea what lay underneath and smiled over his mother and two thousand year old father. She took his smile for liking her joke, which he had in a different way, and her grin came back.
He had to know. “I said something about angels and you looked back. Did -- did the angels mean something to you?”
“Angels?” She frowned. “I don’t remember anything like that. I did look back because the man behind you was going into the overhead where I had stored things. I didn’t want him banging around in there.”
He remembered that happening around the same time. He knew she couldn’t have understood what he meant.
To prove it, she asked, “You’re a big believer in angels?”
He smiled. “I was talking about the statues you see in architecture.”
“Ah, you’re an architect?”
He shook his head. “Accountant. Retired now. Do you still work?”
“Who said I worked? I could be living off some inheritance and seeing what trouble I can find in the world.”
He let out a big breath and sagged. “You make me feel suddenly old.”
She winked. “Don’t. I’m older than I look. I probably have you beat.”
She could be hundreds of years in age, Anthony decided, and it wouldn’t matter. People like her never got truly old.
“So what do you do?” he asked.
“Just like I said. I’m living off my inheritance and seeing what trouble I can find in the world. Money went from the great-grandparents all the way down to me.”
“And who’s after you? Kids? Nephews, nieces?”
Her eyes danced with wickedness. “Nobody, so I get to spend it all.”
She flagged down a taxi for him because naturally none of the cabbies noticed him. He was a New Yorker though. He’d have gotten the job done, but he didn’t need to. She, of course, stood out and barely had to gesture to pull up not one, but two cabs. He suddenly realized why she fascinated him. People noticed her like they had with Amy and Rory. She reminded him of his mother and father, the way she told her stories and the way she had talked quietly with him about being here for his family.
He gave himself a mental shake. He had his parents on the brain. She was a wonderful, exciting person, but he saw things there because he wanted to see them as he headed for his grandparents. She was a casual encounter with a pleasant stranger where people spent a few minutes talking before they went on their way.
He turned to look out the back window and waved. She waved back and got into her own waiting taxi.
He sat back in his seat. Time for Brian, Augustus, and Tabitha to meet their grandchild.
The woman who had sat next to Anthony Williams on the plane watched from baggage claim as he met the other passenger and struck up a conversation.
A voice came from behind her. “I hate your hair. It’s all-- bleah.”
River managed a small smile even with the mood that pulled her down. “Of course you do.”
The Doctor walked up to stand with her as she watched Anthony. Her brother. She had a brother.
She could feel him working up to a boil. “You should tell him, River.”
“No, I shouldn’t and I can’t. We both know his letters say nothing about me. He knows nothing about me. That’s already happened for us. I can’t change it”
A very angry old man shone through the Doctor’s eyes. “It doesn’t mean they can’t find out at all.”
She spun on him. “I’m not doing that. End of discussion.”
Anthony and the woman started walking away, still deep in conversation. She followed, keeping a distance, so he didn’t see her and wondered why the person from the plane stalked him.
“She looks like you.”
“It’s just the hair. I’m not the only one who has it.”
He leaned down. “But what if he thinks it’s you? What if Amy and Rory did say something and he’s looking for you?!”
She pushed back. “We know that’s not true. He doesn’t even know who Mels Zucker is, let alone Melody--”
“His sister Melody!”
She held back the tears. “... he doesn’t know she exists.”
“Then why dress like this? Why hide you from him?”
“I didn’t know if he knew River Song,” she answered. “And if he did, what it was he knew, if they said they had a friend with that name. I gave myself a buffer in case he didn’t.”
“And how do you know he’s never heard of River Song?”
“Because he hasn’t said anything to her about whether she’s that woman, Doctor. When I saw her getting on the plane, I knew it was the perfect way to find out what he knew without exposing myself, in case he hadn’t heard about River. Which he hasn’t.”
“I hate this, River. It’s not fair.”
“No one said it was, Sweetie.”
The Doctor became one taut muscle with his hands fisted in his pockets. His anger reached its breaking limits and he snapped, “I’m telling him,” and he launched himself after the man.
River got immediately into his path. “What are you going to tell him? That--”
“That he has a sister named Melody and she’s amazing and her parents loved her!”
She couldn’t sound more broken. The pain she held from the cemetery in Manhattan when she had to say goodbye to her mother forever, and had no final moment with her father at all, pushed through the cracks. She contained it as much as she could. “That stopped being true a long time ago, Doctor.”
He stared at her and then violently shook his head. “No! No, that’s not -- I’m telling him, River!”
“What? That the parents he adores kept the fact they had a daughter from everyone, including from their own son? He made them happy, they loved him. Leave that alone.”
“They loved you too. They did.”
“And those years, you know what they meant. But my time ended for whatever reason and his began. It’s still going on. Think of how we would ruin it if we told him. What does that make them look like?! I don’t know why they did it, but it’s their choice. I won’t do that, you know I never would.”
“River--”
She swallowed and looked away. “Did it ever occur to you that they resented me again because they couldn’t have another child? That they loved Anthony, but wished they could have had another baby too? If it wasn’t for me--”
“If it wasn’t for the Silence and Demon’s Run!”
She squeezed her eyes tight before turning so he could see her. “Same thing.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “No, River, it’s not. If anything, it’s me--”
She put her fingers to his lips. “Stop. We’re not doing that either.”
She looked over her shoulder. Anthony was about to leave the airport. She turned back. “He would like to meet you. Go catch up to him. It would mean the world to him, Sweetie.”
“Forget him. I have nothing to say to him except about you.”
She put her hands to his cheeks. “Don’t do that. Don’t hold anything against him. Or anything against them.” She drew his head closer. “You’re the Doctor he’s heard about his whole life. Go and tell him. He’s a time to Amy and Rory. He’s the last thing they can give you and you to him. He must have a thousand questions for you.”
He pulled off the square framed glasses that were just clear lenses. He then took her hands in his and folded them between their chests. “River Song, Melody Pond, I have the only Williams child I need to talk to.”
She worked against the lump in her throat. “You’re making a mistake, my love.”
“It’s not the first time. You can’t change my mind, River.”
The woman with Anthony got him a taxi and made sure he got in it okay. River was glad. She had to save Anthony a few times already. He was nearly mugged on his way to the airport, which she took care of quietly before he was hurt or saw her, and he wouldn’t be on the plane at all if she hadn’t taken care of the bureaucracy that kept his papers from going through.
He was her brother. She’d do what she could for him. He’d be okay now. She had already seen him in Leadworth before traveling back through his timeline until the cutoff in 2012.
She pulled the Doctor’s arm around her shoulders like a warm blanket. “Where’s the Tardis?”
“Not far.” He tugged her away through the now empty baggage claim. They had gone a few steps when he pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “You’ll fix your hair?”
She smiled as quietly as he spoke. “Yes, I will.”
He pushed open the door and stood aside so she could go in first. She went by, but he spoke suddenly and it stopped her. “River, the Tardis and I -- we’re not grandparents and we’re not a brother. We can’t--”
She laid a hand on his chest. “Hush.”
He followed her inside and closed the door. They dematerialized a minute later.
Notes: "PS" may not be canon since it was never shown onscreen, but Steven Moffat did approve of it, so this shows the consequences of it. Seriously, Chris Chibnall, how could you?
Ugh, this hurts.
Anthony already wished he had brought a book. He needed something to do besides stare at the seat in front of him. Seven hours wasn’t horrible, he was lucky he had a straight through flight, but he had nothing to do but think about Brian Williams and Augustus and Tabitha Pond. That made it hard to sit still. He wanted to be walking up to their front doors right now.
A woman with mousy hair had the seat in the middle next to him. Everything about her was like that. She flipped through the in-flight magazine through a set of amazingly thick glasses and gave him only a cursory smile as he sat down. Another woman sat by the window wrapped in layers as if it was the dead of winter. She said nothing at all.
On the other hand, he saw a woman with a really impressive head of blonde curly hair three rows ahead in the seat diagonal to him. Through the flight, he tried to listen in on her conversation. She regaled people with stories of her travels, but he still couldn’t hear more than a word or two even though she held court with the seats around her. She didn’t speak loudly, she wasn’t obnoxious, and the only time he heard her clearly was when she gave a throaty laugh to the woman next to her who was clearly flirting. Even with that laugh and her flirting back, she gave off an air of Spoken for, but you’re sweet for trying.
Not that he was interested. He wasn’t attracted; he was fascinated. He thought he caught her looking back towards him once or twice and he hoped she’d come back to talk to him. He’d like to hear those stories.
His mother was once a travel writer. He imagined how much she’d like this woman. After all, Amy Pond met many historical figures and traveled everywhere herself, let alone everywhen as she put it. She knew what was under Stonehenge. He was sure the vivacious traveler a few rows ahead couldn’t boast about that.
Thinking about Amy brought back the old pain. Someone who hadn’t lost a parent, let alone both, couldn’t understand how a grown child still hurt from that. Only somebody like him knew the feeling of There’s nobody back there now to catch me or how the pain lasted for years, maybe forever. He had read a quote from Maya Angelou at Amy’s funeral: “I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life.”
He should have brought his mother’s books in his carry on instead of packing them in his suitcase. He could quote them word for word now, but he still loved reading them again and again. Each one was so different: Melody Malone and her second adventure, Angel’s Kiss. He pictured the books in his head including the cover art that made his mother look off into the distance when she looked at it. He never understood why she used it if it made her react that way. It had been her publication company after all; she didn’t insist on any particular artwork for the others.
And her original Pond River publishing house that produced both Melody Malone novels; why, he asked her, had she changed her company to Williams Centurion Press after he was adopted and by the time Summer Falls came out? He knew why the Centurion and Pond, but he asked his mother about why River? She got quiet and then said it was a play on Pond that once was used during her time with the Doctor. He got nothing else about that, not even the story on when she used the pseudonym. Rory told him to let it go and his tone allowed for nothing further.
They came around with the drink cart and he hurriedly pulled in his legs so it didn’t bang his knees. The woman by the window ordered coffee; he began worrying she suffered from hypothermia. His direct neighbor ordered a club soda and turned down the pretzels. He took them because munching on them gave him something to do and he asked for a vodka tonic. The woman up ahead ordered something called “Between The Sheets” that he had never heard of before.
He should attempt to make some conversation with his neighbor. “Are you going to England on business or vacation?”
She didn’t look up. “Business. I hope to be home tomorrow night.”
She didn’t ask him, but he tried anyway. “I’m going to see family.”
She answered in her flat Midwest accent, “That’s nice.”
It was more than nice. He reached into his coat pocket and touched the letters to his grandparents. His grandparents. He would finally meet them. He was a little nervous which was natural, but he knew they understood about the Doctor and how odd things were with time travel. They’d understand a grandchild that was older than them... but he still was the one who had to tell them about New York and his parents never coming home. He was the closest one to what had happened. He hadn’t lived that, he couldn’t tell them anything firsthand. But only the Doctor had been there, Amy and Rory had said, and they doubted he had gone to tell their parents. So that left only him, their “timey wimey” child.
A man behind had stood and reached into the overhead compartment. Anthony ducked to make sure he wasn’t hit in the head by the man’s bag.
“I almost didn’t make it,” he said in another try to be friendly with his neighbor. “My passport and all the other paperwork just kept getting snarled up in red tape. It looked like it’d never happen and then suddenly it got cleared.” He smiled. “I must have an angel watching over me.”
There! The woman up ahead did it again! She looked back suddenly on “angel”. But what were the odds she would know anything about Weeping Angels and the creature who had given him the greatest gift of his life, his adoption?
His neighbor looked up and told him how nice things had worked out, but that was the last thing they said to each other. He leaned past her to see if the passenger at the window wanted to talk, but she ignored him. He kept the sigh to himself. Conversation would have been nice to pass the time.
He glanced ahead and thought about going up to the woman with all the curls. He could talk about his mom and dad and their travels.
But he wasn’t like his parents. He wasn’t putting himself down; he was a good, solid man, but he didn’t have that Williams spirit that Amy and Rory had. People noticed when they came in the room, even his dad who insisted he wasn’t like that. People were drawn to them. They wanted a good story or they needed advice, they went to Rory and Amy. His parents walked into a place and things brightened just by them being there.
Anthony blended in, he didn’t stand out. Maybe that was why he hadn’t married. Not because he preferred men in a time when being gay wasn't accepted. He had met wonderful people, including ones his parents approved of. But he wanted someone like his mother, but never met them. He wasn’t his father either that could keep such a person
His dad once said Amy had needed a friend to point him out as the perfect choice, not that Anthony had missed his match, he added. His son asked if he would meet that friend when he finally got to go to Leadworth, but they went quiet again and finally said she had been wild and was killed in a car accident.
He always hoped his parents would live to come with him on this trip. He never imagined he’d be taking it alone.
He shook off the gloom. His grandparents waited for him and he’d finally see everyone and everything he grew up hearing about.
He got out his wallet and looked at the family photos. He was old school and still carried printed pictures instead of scanning them to carry in his phone. He pushed his seat back and dreamed of happy times.
The plane landed smoothly and he saw his suitcase immediately at the baggage claim. He grabbed its handle and bumped into someone who was reaching for theirs at the same time. It was the woman with the wild hair from his flight.
She laughed. “I look like I’m following you.”
He had at last found someone friendly. “Now why would you do that?”
She tilted her head to the side and gave him a searching look. “You remind me of someone.”
“Someone close?”
She shook her head and she sounded a little sad. “Someone I only heard about.”
She seemed okay with his tagging along, at least for awhile as they both headed outside the airport. “I know what you mean. About someone you only heard about.”
“Oh? Is that why you’re here? I noticed the American accident. New York, right?”
“Right. I’m here to see my family.” They don’t know it yet.
She gave a private smile. “Family’s important.”
“Are you visiting family too? Or off to see something like Stonehenge or the Roman Baths? I heard you say you travel a lot.”
She grinned. “Who’s following who?” The grin faded. “Not family, I only had my parents and they’re gone.” He made sympathetic noises and told her he understood. “And as for Stonehenge, been there, done that.”
He again thought that she had no idea what lay underneath and smiled over his mother and two thousand year old father. She took his smile for liking her joke, which he had in a different way, and her grin came back.
He had to know. “I said something about angels and you looked back. Did -- did the angels mean something to you?”
“Angels?” She frowned. “I don’t remember anything like that. I did look back because the man behind you was going into the overhead where I had stored things. I didn’t want him banging around in there.”
He remembered that happening around the same time. He knew she couldn’t have understood what he meant.
To prove it, she asked, “You’re a big believer in angels?”
He smiled. “I was talking about the statues you see in architecture.”
“Ah, you’re an architect?”
He shook his head. “Accountant. Retired now. Do you still work?”
“Who said I worked? I could be living off some inheritance and seeing what trouble I can find in the world.”
He let out a big breath and sagged. “You make me feel suddenly old.”
She winked. “Don’t. I’m older than I look. I probably have you beat.”
She could be hundreds of years in age, Anthony decided, and it wouldn’t matter. People like her never got truly old.
“So what do you do?” he asked.
“Just like I said. I’m living off my inheritance and seeing what trouble I can find in the world. Money went from the great-grandparents all the way down to me.”
“And who’s after you? Kids? Nephews, nieces?”
Her eyes danced with wickedness. “Nobody, so I get to spend it all.”
She flagged down a taxi for him because naturally none of the cabbies noticed him. He was a New Yorker though. He’d have gotten the job done, but he didn’t need to. She, of course, stood out and barely had to gesture to pull up not one, but two cabs. He suddenly realized why she fascinated him. People noticed her like they had with Amy and Rory. She reminded him of his mother and father, the way she told her stories and the way she had talked quietly with him about being here for his family.
He gave himself a mental shake. He had his parents on the brain. She was a wonderful, exciting person, but he saw things there because he wanted to see them as he headed for his grandparents. She was a casual encounter with a pleasant stranger where people spent a few minutes talking before they went on their way.
He turned to look out the back window and waved. She waved back and got into her own waiting taxi.
He sat back in his seat. Time for Brian, Augustus, and Tabitha to meet their grandchild.
The woman who had sat next to Anthony Williams on the plane watched from baggage claim as he met the other passenger and struck up a conversation.
A voice came from behind her. “I hate your hair. It’s all-- bleah.”
River managed a small smile even with the mood that pulled her down. “Of course you do.”
The Doctor walked up to stand with her as she watched Anthony. Her brother. She had a brother.
She could feel him working up to a boil. “You should tell him, River.”
“No, I shouldn’t and I can’t. We both know his letters say nothing about me. He knows nothing about me. That’s already happened for us. I can’t change it”
A very angry old man shone through the Doctor’s eyes. “It doesn’t mean they can’t find out at all.”
She spun on him. “I’m not doing that. End of discussion.”
Anthony and the woman started walking away, still deep in conversation. She followed, keeping a distance, so he didn’t see her and wondered why the person from the plane stalked him.
“She looks like you.”
“It’s just the hair. I’m not the only one who has it.”
He leaned down. “But what if he thinks it’s you? What if Amy and Rory did say something and he’s looking for you?!”
She pushed back. “We know that’s not true. He doesn’t even know who Mels Zucker is, let alone Melody--”
“His sister Melody!”
She held back the tears. “... he doesn’t know she exists.”
“Then why dress like this? Why hide you from him?”
“I didn’t know if he knew River Song,” she answered. “And if he did, what it was he knew, if they said they had a friend with that name. I gave myself a buffer in case he didn’t.”
“And how do you know he’s never heard of River Song?”
“Because he hasn’t said anything to her about whether she’s that woman, Doctor. When I saw her getting on the plane, I knew it was the perfect way to find out what he knew without exposing myself, in case he hadn’t heard about River. Which he hasn’t.”
“I hate this, River. It’s not fair.”
“No one said it was, Sweetie.”
The Doctor became one taut muscle with his hands fisted in his pockets. His anger reached its breaking limits and he snapped, “I’m telling him,” and he launched himself after the man.
River got immediately into his path. “What are you going to tell him? That--”
“That he has a sister named Melody and she’s amazing and her parents loved her!”
She couldn’t sound more broken. The pain she held from the cemetery in Manhattan when she had to say goodbye to her mother forever, and had no final moment with her father at all, pushed through the cracks. She contained it as much as she could. “That stopped being true a long time ago, Doctor.”
He stared at her and then violently shook his head. “No! No, that’s not -- I’m telling him, River!”
“What? That the parents he adores kept the fact they had a daughter from everyone, including from their own son? He made them happy, they loved him. Leave that alone.”
“They loved you too. They did.”
“And those years, you know what they meant. But my time ended for whatever reason and his began. It’s still going on. Think of how we would ruin it if we told him. What does that make them look like?! I don’t know why they did it, but it’s their choice. I won’t do that, you know I never would.”
“River--”
She swallowed and looked away. “Did it ever occur to you that they resented me again because they couldn’t have another child? That they loved Anthony, but wished they could have had another baby too? If it wasn’t for me--”
“If it wasn’t for the Silence and Demon’s Run!”
She squeezed her eyes tight before turning so he could see her. “Same thing.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “No, River, it’s not. If anything, it’s me--”
She put her fingers to his lips. “Stop. We’re not doing that either.”
She looked over her shoulder. Anthony was about to leave the airport. She turned back. “He would like to meet you. Go catch up to him. It would mean the world to him, Sweetie.”
“Forget him. I have nothing to say to him except about you.”
She put her hands to his cheeks. “Don’t do that. Don’t hold anything against him. Or anything against them.” She drew his head closer. “You’re the Doctor he’s heard about his whole life. Go and tell him. He’s a time to Amy and Rory. He’s the last thing they can give you and you to him. He must have a thousand questions for you.”
He pulled off the square framed glasses that were just clear lenses. He then took her hands in his and folded them between their chests. “River Song, Melody Pond, I have the only Williams child I need to talk to.”
She worked against the lump in her throat. “You’re making a mistake, my love.”
“It’s not the first time. You can’t change my mind, River.”
The woman with Anthony got him a taxi and made sure he got in it okay. River was glad. She had to save Anthony a few times already. He was nearly mugged on his way to the airport, which she took care of quietly before he was hurt or saw her, and he wouldn’t be on the plane at all if she hadn’t taken care of the bureaucracy that kept his papers from going through.
He was her brother. She’d do what she could for him. He’d be okay now. She had already seen him in Leadworth before traveling back through his timeline until the cutoff in 2012.
She pulled the Doctor’s arm around her shoulders like a warm blanket. “Where’s the Tardis?”
“Not far.” He tugged her away through the now empty baggage claim. They had gone a few steps when he pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “You’ll fix your hair?”
She smiled as quietly as he spoke. “Yes, I will.”
He pushed open the door and stood aside so she could go in first. She went by, but he spoke suddenly and it stopped her. “River, the Tardis and I -- we’re not grandparents and we’re not a brother. We can’t--”
She laid a hand on his chest. “Hush.”
He followed her inside and closed the door. They dematerialized a minute later.