Loose ends
Series: Life, as witnessed by Rory Williams
Part two: Loose ends
A few weeks later, people started to ask about Mels’ absence. They couldn’t tell them - they had no idea where or rather when she was -, so they just shrugged and said: ‘Somewhere out there, wandering. You know what she’s like.’
Loose ends
Falling back into his work routine came easy this time. He loved his job, but mostly he loved working with people: his patients, but also their family and his fellow colleagues.
The medicine, however, was harder to get used to again. Even though the Leadworth hospital was state-of-the-art (one of the best in Britain) after all he had seen - and the ways he himself had been treated a few times - modern medicine simply seemed old fashioned. Even crude.
That day had been particularly hard. One of the elderly patients on his ward had died of a blood clot in his brain. All Rory could think about for the remainder of that day was that tiny vial that the Doctor had passed Cleaves after the events in the acid farm. So tiny, yet very effective.
He debated with himself whether to discuss it with Amy. It would be wise to let her know he was feeling a bit down, but he decided against telling her the whole story. He didn’t want to mention the Doctor, not when they had both just gotten their lives back on the rails.
It had taken her a few weeks of deliberation, but finally Amy knew what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. She had always dreamed of her own shop, selling people something they could enjoy, bringing joy to their lives. Having thought it through, she enrolled in a few evening courses: financing, book keeping, advertising, ... determined to plan this “adventure” well.
They were eating dinner quietly that night, until someone knocked on their door.
Rory got up to answer and recognised the caller immediately. It was Sergeant Mills from the local police station, whom they - courtesy of Mels - had gotten to know rather well over the years. The officer had been at their doorstep (that of their old flat, and before that of their parents) plenty of times before.
‘What has she done now?’ He blurted out, then winced at the triggered response. In his mind, the older man was without exception linked to Mels being in trouble. Only now… she couldn’t be.
Amy appeared behind his back. “Sergeant Mills? We’ve already told you we don’t know where she is.”
Nobody had seen or heard from Melody the previous months. How could they? Fortunately for the Melody everybody in Leadworth knew a disappearing act wasn’t much out of the ordinary. She had gone missing before, only to pop up a few months later, broke, but with lots of interesting stories.
‘I’m sorry to …’ Mills started, with a heavy voice. When it became obvious he couldn’t finish the sentence, he began anew after clearing his throat: ‘Cardiff Central Police Station called us today.’
He handed the bag he’d been carrying to Rory. Two objects could be made out through the plastic: a cell phone and a piece of paper, that looked like it had been wet, with the word sorry written across it.
'They were found in the Cardiff docks. The police suspect Melody…” The officer paused a moment; ‘They suspect she jumped into the water.’
Surprise. Whatever he had been expecting, this wasn’t it! He off course knew that Melody wasn’t really dead and that the notion of suicide was ridiculous. He just hoped that his befuddled look could pass as shock.
‘Have you contacted her par.. foster family?’ Amy recovered faster than Rory, although her eyes were teary.
‘No. I wanted to contact you two first. You’ve always...’ He gestured with his hands, like he wanted to pluck the right words out of the sky. He then settled for: ‘cared for her.’
Her foster parents had taken their hands off Mels the moment she turned eighteen. Emotionally, they had checked out years before. Rory and Amy had always resented them for it, but knowing what they know now, perhaps there had been some external influence?
‘I will stop by their house later.’
Rory wanted to hand him the bag back, but Mills refused. ‘You should keep it.’ He gestured at the phone. ‘It’s broken though. It rained when it was discovered. It’s one of the reasons it took so long to identify the owner.’
‘Okay...’ Rory said, not really sure how he was supposed to respond. He had the feeling the other man was beating around the bush, prolonging the conversation for some reason. Frankly Rory wanted him to go, so he and Amy could discuss these new events.
‘Your number was the only one they could recover. She put it in as Dad. It confused the investigators.’
Tears sprung into Rory’s eyes, while the other man continued: ‘It makes perfect sense to me.’
---
They saw the Sergeant again a few days later at the funeral. They had made all the arrangements, knowing that was how Mels would have wanted it. Rory spotted him, dressed not in his uniform but in a simple black suit, in the back of the room. Next to him sat an unknown, dark-haired man. His clean haircut and rigid posture indicated a past in military or other official service. Perhaps someone from Cardiff’s police force?
The service was short, but very emotional. They had decided against a religious service: Mels had never been a devout person and they themselves would never forget it was an clerical order disguised as an army (or was it the other way around?) that had taken away their daughter. The eerie prayer of attack still played a large role in his nightmares.
If he hadn’t known that River was still out there - somewhere - he would have been affronted at the small turnout of people saying goodbye to her younger self. A few old friends from school had joined three sets of parents; Mels’, his and Amy’s. To no one’s surprise it was Mrs. Pond who cried the most, she’d always had a soft spot for her daughter’s first (and only) girlfriend.
Since Amy had begun the service with a word of welcome and a recitation of Mels favourite song lyrics (she never had the patience for poetry, but could listen hours to music), it was up to him to make the final speech. To be the last to say goodbye.
He mourned the friend he had first met in primary school
‘Hi, you’re Rory right? Amy’s friend? Well then I’m your friend now too.’
‘Uhm. Ok?’
All the embarrassment and unease he might feel, knowing that that girl was also his daughter - and that she had seen, heard, said and known things no one should ever have about their parents - he locked away deep in his mind. Deeper than where he had hidden the Centurion.
Only the feelings of friendship, love - and sometimes sheer exasperation at her antics - would be allowed after that day. He didn’t make it through the first sentence of his speech without crying. He didn’t care. His friends were worth crying about.
Later that day they buried an empty casket. Only the two of them knew for sure her body would never be found.
Only it wasn’t empty. He and Amy had filled it with memorabilia from Mels’ short life. To his surprise, Amy later added her Raggedy Man collection: all the home-made dolls and Tardisses she had created as a child. He didn’t try analysing his wife’s actions, but it seemed to him like she was trying to say goodbye to more than Mels that day.
Rory stayed last, settling the last arrangements with the priest. Their parents had already taken Amy home and, knowing them like he did, were probably preparing enough food to last them a week. He was about to leave, casting one last glance to Mels’ grave to make sure everything was in order, when the unknown man from the funeral approached him.
‘My condolences again.’ The dark-haired stranger spoke, holding out his hand for Rory to shake. ‘My name is Captain Jack Harkness. Me and your daughter used to know each other.’
Either it was the glint in his eyes or the arrogance that radiated form his stance, but Rory interpreted ‘knowing’ as ‘knowing intimately’. He decked the man and left him bleeding on the cemetery’s grass, without looking back.
Hours later, after he realised Harkness had said daughter and not friend, he found him again and bought him a beer in the pub.
Sounding a bit nasally - his right hook should have broken the other man’s nose, Rory thought - Harkness explained his words without actually telling him much. He simply mentioned he had met River during his duties as a Time Agent before he spent a lot more words on the tale how he had met the Doctor and a girl called Rose during the Blitz. Then he shared adventurous stories of his current rag-tag team, in Cardiff.
Rory didn’t share. He didn’t talk about how he had met the Doctor (jumping out of a cake at his stag party…) and why he had joined them in the Tardis (his wife having kissed him). Nor did he talk about their adventures (aliens, vampires, pirates, dying). He just listened and occasionally nipped his now lukewarm beer, nodding at all the right times in the other man’s stories.
Eventually he got up and thanked him for coming to the funeral, hoping that was that.
‘You know that’s not the only reason I came to Leadworth.’
Rory did suspect, but had hoped Captain Harkness had only come here because there weren’t that many former travel mates of the Doctor on Earth and he just wanted to talk about the things he had seen.
‘So what are you here for?’ No doubt Harkness would have told him anyway, but already feeling like a bad actor in a terrible movie, he decided to go for it and say the lines on his imaginary script.
Harkness’ eyes turned serious. Rory had already noticed during the evening how the other man didn’t fit quite his age. He hadn’t worried about it, knowing all too well how soldiers’ eyes could age rapidly from all the things they saw in the line of duty. From the stories Harkness had just told, he had seen and lived through a lot.
He quickly changed his theory: Harkness hadn’t just lived a lot during the past years, he had actually lived for a very long time. Maybe even longer than him, once, in the other timeline. Harkness was old and perhaps even tired of life. He suddenly reminded Rory of the Doctor, on the few nights exhaustion had driven his childlike excitement away and had exposed the old, haunted Timelord. For the first time that night, Rory was actually curious about the person in front of him.
Instead of further insights, he was handed a shiny golden business card. It was empty but for the word Torchwood emblazoned on it.
‘The companions of the Doctor,’ Harkness started: ‘they know what is really out there.’ With a small nod to the sky he emphasised his words. ‘They know it’s a dangerous universe. And that Earth, right now in this time, is basically defenceless.’ A small cynical smile, more like a wince, crossed his face. ‘The Doctor won’t always be here to save us. So we save ourselves.’
Rory mirrored his not-smile. He was done being a loyal soldier. ‘So you’re recruiting me?’
‘The both of you. You and your wife are a package deal, right?’ That smile was more genuine and seduced Rory to do the same. The mere mention of Amy could always brighten his day, even in the worst of times. ‘You could say that.’
Noticing Rory’s hesitation (with stemmed from wondering how to decline, rather than from the actual offer), he added: ‘You don’t have to answer now. Take the card, call us.’
Rory accepted the card, put it in his back pocket and left. He was tempted to throw it out on the way home but felt obligated to ask Amy first. And he would, just not that night.
---
Next:
Her first visit
‘Mother,’ River spoke indulgently, ‘The Pandorica, that’s just a myth!’ The ‘Right?’ remained unspoken, but could easily be read from her face.
Amy just smiled infuriatingly.