Fic: Girl In The Mirror 'Verse, Chapter 11: Sunflowers for Amy
Title: Girl In The Mirror ‘Verse, Chapter 11: Sunflowers for Amy
Author: psyfi_geekgirl
BetaBabe: akkajemo
Characters/Pairings: Twelve, Amy/Rory, Amelia, Tabetha and Augustus Pond
Rating: PG-13
Excerpt: Originally, she’d had no idea what this change was supposed to teach her. Now she had a much better idea...
Word count: 3,639
Disclaimer: Until she’s Jossed, Twelve is mine-but of course based entirely on stuff that ain’t mine… All hail Auntie Beeb!
A/N: Written before s6, so it may go a bit AU
WARNING: Character death.
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10
Comments = ♥
I know you’re out there…
The TARDIS wheezed to life in the garden prompting Rory to walk to the window. Amazed to be back home, Amelia ran through the garden excitedly, yelling “Mummy! Mummy, Mummy!”
Rory watched her through the window, her red hair bouncing in her wake. His heart ached for the time when she would grow into a replica of her mother-and for every moment until then when she would resemble the girl and the woman he loved in achingly familiar gestures, tricks of the eye and half-seen smiles.
The Doctor followed her out, securing the TARDIS door behind her. “Careful, Amelia-mind your bike by the hedge there-and no running up the stairs!”
Rory met his daughter at the bottom of the stairs. His haggard, careworn face, rumpled clothing and weary eyes gave a quick sketch of a battle not easily fought.
Rory bent down to hug his daughter. “Ohh! Missed you, munchkin!”
The Doctor caught up, anxious to speak to Rory, but stood waiting through their hug, pensively rubbing the peculiar, sparkly nail varnish on her thumb.
Amelia giggled and wriggled out of his grasp. “Daddy! We weren’t gone that long!”
Rory tousled her hair. “Amelia, your grandparents are in the kitchen. Why don’t you tell them about where you went with the Doctor?”
“What about you? I want to tell you, too!”
“I’ll be there soon. Daddy needs to talk to the Doctor.”
“K!” she called and rushed down the hall, arms all a-flutter. They watched her go, a spring breeze of ginger warming the winter of the Pond house.
“Are we too late?” asked the Doctor.
“Go to her,” said Rory. “She wants to see you. It won’t be long, now. I’ll be behind shortly.”
The Doctor climbed the stairs, pausing at the spot just outside the bedroom to stare at the place she had been handcuffed to the radiator when she wore another face on its first day.
What happened to her? What happened to Amelia Pond?
She heard the ominous, hateful clicking of machines and pushed the door open quietly.
Amy was resting.
The Doctor’s hearts broke to look at her. Amy wasn’t just pale, she was grey-a photograph fading right before the Doctor’s eyes. She walked over towards her bedside. As she neared, Amy’s eyes fluttered open and her lips curled upwards slightly in greeting.
“Hiya,” returned the Doctor softly. She pulled a chair closer and sat down. “That’s quite some kid you’ve got there, Pond,” she said, noticing her eyes fight for the sparkle they once had. “Maybe someday I ought to take her away with me.” The Doctor chuckled as Amy’s eyes grew stern. She winked at her, “Yes, fine then. I promise to wait until the day before her wedding.” Pushing away a strand of hair from Amy’s face she added, “and maybe I’ll even jump out of the cake at her fiancé’s stag, too.” She wiggled her nails for Amy. “Like it? Amelia put it on me.”
Amy made a face.
“Sparkly nail polish! I love it,” insisted the Doctor. “I wear sparkly nail polish now. It’s cool! I’m gonna keep it. It suits me. The new new me…”
Amy’s hand moved to cover the Doctor’s and she noticed Amy wince. A cloud of discomfort passed across her face and then was gone, replaced with the smooth, even countenance of acceptance itself. The Doctor leaned over and covered Amy’s hand with her other, stroking the back of her hand, feeling the wet tissue paper flesh that stretched over the wiry veins underneath; those veins that carried the mutated, diseased messengers of her compromised DNA throughout her body, spreading and replicating the invisible soldiers she’d grown so very tired of fighting.
Except they hadn’t quite got the message yet that the war was over.
Tears welled up in the Doctor’s eyes as she gazed at Amy, the implacable soldier, wife, mother and friend. The Doctor knew instinctively that if she’d been gifted with a longer life that Amy wouldn’t have cared if she had to change her sex to do so.
Yet, this was hardly a time to feel sorry for herself. Originally after the regeneration, she’d had no idea what this change was supposed to teach her. Now she had a much better idea. Such things didn’t matter anymore, her perspective was changed; suddenly she was grateful to live on at all.
“Pond, you’re amazing,” she whispered to her, feeling the last vestiges of her resentment against her own fate slowly ebb away.
Secure in the bed, Amy smiled peacefully and nodded slightly. Words had appeared to lose their burning necessity; instead, Amy winked at her and jutted her chin towards her slightly.
The Doctor laughed (despite the piercing knife of sadness ripping through her hearts), until it caught in her throat. She interpreted Amy’s gesture aloud: “’So are you’ you mean?”
Amy smiled, and made a small gesture for the Doctor to lean down to her. Slowly and with great effort, Amy rasped into the Doctor’s ear, “No matter… what… form you… take.”
The Doctor’s breath drew in, an exquisite pang that both rattled her breath and swelled her chest. Overwhelmed by sadness and admiration, she answered Amy, “I think I finally get that now,” she said softly, choking on her own tears. “Thanks...”
She doubted she could pour any more gratitude in her simple expression of appreciation, but she had tried.
The two friends held each other’s gaze for a long moment. Too soon they would be separated by distance and time. Amy was scheduled to begin a journey of her own where the Doctor could not follow. She could not be there to guide her and she would not be able to hold her hand to make it better or protect her. There would be no last minute tricks or miracles-and certainly no magic, doppelgangers, Timelord flimflam or paradoxes to save her.
For she was going somewhere the Doctor had never been, and with any luck, wouldn’t be headed for quite a while.
And by the look in her eyes, Amy didn’t resent the Doctor for it one bit.
Amy and the Doctor sat in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s company, and while the Doctor had so much to say-she found it wasn’t necessary. Soon she heard Rory’s footsteps on the threshold.
Finally she gathered up her hand and kissed it. “Bye bye, Pond,” she said, lovingly kissing the tips of her hair, her forehead and then caressing her face before leaving the room.
******
The Doctor stayed back in the hallway and allowed her family their final moments with Amy. Once she had passed, everyone exhaled, their uncertainties and the fearful anticipation they’d been holding was released with her. They wept tears of sadness and relief.
They had all passed through the veil into the unknown and were now liberated from the unspecified horror of nameless possibility into the relative comfort of their grief.
Amy was gone. She could not be hurt any more but somehow they would go on.
That was all that mattered now.
The Doctor marveled at the humans-their strength and their comfort in ritual-for even now they were at work as Amy’s father, Augustus, withdrew his granddaughter from the room so that Rory and Amy’s mother, Tabetha, could prepare the body. They gently removed all of the equipment and breathing apparatus-everything foreign and non-organic was taken out of the room immediately so that they could see her as she was-remember her as she was-released from the struggle and torment of her body’s failings.
Feeling like an interloper, the Doctor silently retreated downstairs and left them to it.
Legs made of lead, she clomped into the kitchen, dazed by the humming of the reverent and solemn voices above that spoke in hushed tones. Still in shock, the Doctor meandered around the room, randomly straightening things. The clock on the wall ticked loudly but sluggishly, seemingly slowing down to force them to negotiate their sorrow at a time that ticked by like wading through cold treacle. Standing back, she imagined the ghost of the adorably brave, ginger haired girl who had cooked him beans, toast and bacon and had given him apples, yoghurt and fish custard without a thought to say ‘no.’
He’d kept her waiting for so long and still she’d forgiven him.
Now all she could do was mourn her.
Finally overcome, the Doctor wept. She cried for The Boy and Girl Who Waited, who would now have to wait a bit longer, she cried for her family and the ones that got left behind. She cried for her own people and her bitter disappointment with the survivors, twisted by the Master. She cried for the man she was who had to give up the woman he loved to himself. She cried for all of the companions that she could never bring herself to say goodbye to, but never forgot. She cried for the brave little girl who feared the crack in her wall but never feared death.
Her shoulders shook, her nose ran and her eyes streamed, but she didn’t stop. And while she’d been oddly and mercifully free of headaches since she’d arrived, she clutched her head in her hands as her body rocked in time with her release.
The Doctor thought she’d cry forever, but it wasn’t nearly that long.
Rory froze up in the doorway, startled to witness the Doctor’s tears. For Rory, it appeared a rare moment of the Doctor’s intensely bared emotion-and it touched him very deeply.
He put a hand on her back gently to know he was there.
Caught, the Doctor vigorously rubbed the tears from her eyes with the sleeves of her old burgundy jumper. Rory reached for her and they hugged.
“Doctor Rory Williams Pond, the Boy Who Waited…” she breathed as she released him.
“I’d do it all again.”
Hesitating, she let go and took a small step back. “Do you regret me?” she asked.
“No.” Rory’s voice was resolute; he shook his head in surprise. “Not one bit. Why would I?”
“I ruined your life.”
“No, Doctor-you gave us a life! We were happier, laughed more, more in love, and more satisfied than we ever could have been by your lack! We were better from having known you.” He looked around the sparse kitchen, largely unchanged since Fish Custard, “I don’t know what we’d have been without you, but we wouldn’t have been fully ourselves. I don’t think that we would have enjoyed ourselves quite so much if you hadn’t crash landed into our lives.”
The Doctor thought Rory was sweet, but she wasn’t so sure. Her eyes were unfocused and she looked out into the middle distance, feeling out all of the timelines-all those that weren’t, as the result of the Doctor coming to call. The subtle lines of her face deepened with the sadness of her knowledge. “She’d have lived longer, y’know Rory. Without me. You’d still have her-“
“But we’d have been boring,” he said, with tears in his eyes. “You said it yourself, years ago.”
“I was just being unkind.”
“No. You were telling the truth. And I’d have a rubbish haircut with a tail…”
The two old friends chuckled in their shared sadness.
The Doctor nodded, remembering, “That was a rubbish tail...”
He watched her shake her head, and saw her unflappable guilt. “You always take so much responsibility…” he sighed, but the Doctor cut him off before he could finish.
“Somebody once told me that I made people unnecessarily reckless-made people take risks to impress me…” They looked at one another for a moment, the Doctor’s jaw set. “Turns out that somebody was right.”
“All risks aren’t bad. Besides, life is a risk. A madman with a crazy bow tie once taught me that.”
“The bowtie was a risk,” she sniffed.
“So was the tail,” he quipped.
She paused, considering it for a second. “Nope, mate. Not buying it. No points for that.” Another pause dragged out as the Doctor fiddled with her earlobe. Finally, she spoke, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay for the funeral.” Talking of risks…
Rory breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh yes, Doctor-please. Amy wanted you to but we weren’t sure if you would.”
“Well, if it’s what Amy wanted then I’m happy to,” she said as a sad smile played at her lips.
Rory fiddled a bit with his jumper before answering. “It seems that this regeneration is better at cleaning up the mess…”
“Oh, Rory,” she added with a sigh, “you have no idea…”
“I like it.”
She clasped her hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. “I’m so glad to hear you say it...”
******
The Doctor stopped outside a boutique in the anemic centre of Leadworth and peered in. Consignment store from the look of it, but she decided to go in. It was the morning of the funeral and she decided it was time to find herself her own suit-no patchwork jumble made from old incarnations any more. After all, the daughter of a loved companion had taught her the importance of being One’s Own Woman. The ladies in the shop were only too glad to help and soon, the Doctor had scads and stacks of clothes to try on until she found something just right.
“To hell with the raggedy. Time to put on a show!”
The bell on the door jingled pleasantly as she strode out of the shop. The bags in hand held her old wardrobe as she stepped out into Leadworth in style:
Burgundy wedge-heeled trainers led her down the pavements as her legs swished in her jacquard suit. Somehow, she’d managed to find a feminine-but still very tailored structured-shoulder suit-in a fabric of burgundy-on-navy vine pattern that reminded her of one of her favourite old ties. She felt like a million pounds, but doing the maths in her head and adjusting for the inflation rate of 2026, she decided that a million pounds wasn’t quite enough…
She whipped out her sunglasses.
“Yessiree, Bob! The bitch is back!” she announced defiantly, to nobody but herself, taking a few more confident steps forward... and promptly turned her heel in her shoes.
Gracelessness incarnate, she stumbled clumsily-hair and limbs flapping ungainly-a small giraffe taking her first steps. But quickly she was up; readjusting the sunglasses and smoothing her hair, she regained her balance and flounced off in the direction of the cemetery.
Absolutely nothing-not even an alien invasion or two inch heels-was going to keep her from getting there on time. She owed at least that much to Amy, but she regretted she was unable to spend any extra time to pick up a bouquet for the funeral.
The walk wasn’t far, but it gave her time to get used to the extra height in her heel, and she marveled that she might actually be finally getting used to the whole new center of gravity thing. Once she arrived, she saw most of the town had turned out to say their goodbyes. The Doctor recognized a lot of people from Amy’s wedding only sixteen years before, but the Ponds had been active and dearly loved in the community.
Some time later, as she listened to the eulogy, the Doctor looked across the lawn and spotted a handsome man in a dark suit-mid-forties, with beautiful, wavy ginger hair-just the colour she’d love to have someday-and crinkled light green eyes shining out of a kind face. She noticed he watched her with a dim curiosity. There’s something familiar about him, she thought, but she couldn’t place him, and her attention was soon diverted to the movement of the crowd as the minister finished his final blessing and closed the service.
By the time she looked again, he was gone-lost in a sea of dark suits, as she craned her neck to find him.
The Doctor decided she’d never seen him before after all.
But he’d just seemed so familiar. And his eyes had been so kind. Maybe she just needed to see someone looking like that at her, after everything.
She glanced back and saw a small bouquet of sunflowers left on the coffin.
She shook her head.
Surely someone other than she knew about Amy’s penchant for sunflowers?
She also swore she tasted the metallic tang of teleport exchange in the air.
Had to be coincidence, really…
******
Back at the house, she found Rory in a small crowd and together they briefly walked apart from the rest, toward the TARDIS.
“You need to know that Torchwood’s been keeping tabs on you since the Pandorica. They’ll protect you. You’ll be safe as houses. Also, you and Amelia won’t want for anything-“
“You don’t have to do that,” said Rory.
The Doctor was resolute, “Yes, I do.”
Rory nodded his silent acceptance and gratitude but the Doctor pulled him into a hug. “Be good. Raise Amelia. Never grow a tail. Call if you need me.”
He promised he would and then added, “I don’t figure it would do any good to remind you to look after yourself.”
“Naaawww,” chided the Doctor. “Where’s the fun in that?”
He shook his head. “Same old Doctor…”
The Doctor smiled warmly, “Goodbye, Doctor Williams.”
Rory shook his head, “It’s Doctor Pond, Doctor.”
She grinned back, “Yeah… Yeah, it is.”
By the time she reached the doors of the TARDIS she felt a tug at her suit jacket. She looked down to see Amelia’s little freckled face looking up at her.
“You going, Doctor?”
The Doctor started to stammer out excuses involving interstellar conflicts and a riot on Ribald 8 that she couldn’t give the details of, but Amelia stopped her.
“It’s ok. I know I’ll see you again.”
“Oh? You do…”
“Sure. But I think you need this,” and she handed the Doctor the bottle of glitter nail varnish from her pocketbook.
The Doctor grinned at her. “Stardust on my nails… I shall wear it and think of you.” She pocketed the gift and patted it.
And the circle continued: Fish Custard had given way to Stardust Nail Polish...
“I’m glad I got to meet you, Doctor,” said Amelia. “Mummy always said she thought you were imaginary when she was little. Now I’m gonna get to grow up and know you’re real.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help your Mummy, Amelia.”
“Sure you did. You made her happy. And when you’re happy nothing hurts quite so much and it’s harder to be afraid.”
“Are you afraid, Amelia?”
“I used to be, but I’m not any more. I used to think there were monsters and that they hid under my bed and waited for me to go to sleep at night. But Mummy told me about you and how you get rid of all the monsters so that little kids like me won’t cry and can sleep. Now that I’ve met you I know you’re real and that Mummy must have been right.”
The Doctor squatted down to the little girl’s height. “I want you to know that you can call me whenever you want and I’ll come to help you. Wherever I am, I’ll come and find you.”
“Oh, I’ll be ok,” she assured her. “But who will help you?”
Her breath caught in her throat. “What do you mean?”
“Well I have Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa. And Mummy’s gone but watching over me-so she’ll be my invisible friend now-but who will you have?”
The Doctor paused, considering this little girl who seemed like she might just be some kind of intervening angel-if she believed in that kind of thing-and she answered, “Oh, I’m pretty lucky. I have lots of people to look after me.” A lump grew in her throat as she repeated a version of what another beloved companion had said years ago, “Sometimes I act pretty lonely… but I actually have got the biggest family on Earth!” She ruffled her hair and tweaked her nose. “So, don’t worry about me, ok?”
Amelia nodded and the Doctor opened her arms for a great big hug.
******
Minutes later and seven and a half years earlier, the TARDIS materialized in Upper Leadworth square. The Doctor emerged, and walked towards the duck pond that finally had ducks.
She found her in the square, pushing baby Amelia in the pram. Amy smiled at her, taking the Doctor aback.
“Hello, Doctor,” greeted Amy. “You’re a girl now, huh?”
The Doctor stared at her in amazement, “How did you… Did River…!?”
“I heard the TARDIS, dopey! And who else would wear a suit like that in August?”
She looked down. “You don’t like my suit??”
Amy just laughed at her.
They spent an enjoyable hour together feeding the ducks-ducks that had miraculously returned to the pond one day. The Doctor didn’t say much, but just enjoying being in their presence and seeing Amy alive and vibrant, with her vivid red hair blowing free again was a salve on her broken hearts.
And when she left, she told Amy she’d see her again.
And she would. Maybe even more than just the once. Because she had a time machine, and she left out the boring days-the Sundays and Tuesdays and the Thursday afternoons-for just this sort of occasion, so she was free to pop back and say hello, whenever she liked....
It lessened the pain of saying goodbye.
This way she would always be young, she would always be alive and she would always be just one trip away.
Later, back in the TARDIS, after all the ducks had been fed, the Doctor pulled off a piece of paper with the coordinates written on it that she’d taped to the monitor.
She pointed the TARDIS towards River Song.
To be continued in Chapter 12: The Forgotten Day
Author: psyfi_geekgirl
BetaBabe: akkajemo
Characters/Pairings: Twelve, Amy/Rory, Amelia, Tabetha and Augustus Pond
Rating: PG-13
Excerpt: Originally, she’d had no idea what this change was supposed to teach her. Now she had a much better idea...
Word count: 3,639
Disclaimer: Until she’s Jossed, Twelve is mine-but of course based entirely on stuff that ain’t mine… All hail Auntie Beeb!
A/N: Written before s6, so it may go a bit AU
WARNING: Character death.
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10
Comments = ♥
I know you’re out there…
The TARDIS wheezed to life in the garden prompting Rory to walk to the window. Amazed to be back home, Amelia ran through the garden excitedly, yelling “Mummy! Mummy, Mummy!”
Rory watched her through the window, her red hair bouncing in her wake. His heart ached for the time when she would grow into a replica of her mother-and for every moment until then when she would resemble the girl and the woman he loved in achingly familiar gestures, tricks of the eye and half-seen smiles.
The Doctor followed her out, securing the TARDIS door behind her. “Careful, Amelia-mind your bike by the hedge there-and no running up the stairs!”
Rory met his daughter at the bottom of the stairs. His haggard, careworn face, rumpled clothing and weary eyes gave a quick sketch of a battle not easily fought.
Rory bent down to hug his daughter. “Ohh! Missed you, munchkin!”
The Doctor caught up, anxious to speak to Rory, but stood waiting through their hug, pensively rubbing the peculiar, sparkly nail varnish on her thumb.
Amelia giggled and wriggled out of his grasp. “Daddy! We weren’t gone that long!”
Rory tousled her hair. “Amelia, your grandparents are in the kitchen. Why don’t you tell them about where you went with the Doctor?”
“What about you? I want to tell you, too!”
“I’ll be there soon. Daddy needs to talk to the Doctor.”
“K!” she called and rushed down the hall, arms all a-flutter. They watched her go, a spring breeze of ginger warming the winter of the Pond house.
“Are we too late?” asked the Doctor.
“Go to her,” said Rory. “She wants to see you. It won’t be long, now. I’ll be behind shortly.”
The Doctor climbed the stairs, pausing at the spot just outside the bedroom to stare at the place she had been handcuffed to the radiator when she wore another face on its first day.
What happened to her? What happened to Amelia Pond?
She heard the ominous, hateful clicking of machines and pushed the door open quietly.
Amy was resting.
The Doctor’s hearts broke to look at her. Amy wasn’t just pale, she was grey-a photograph fading right before the Doctor’s eyes. She walked over towards her bedside. As she neared, Amy’s eyes fluttered open and her lips curled upwards slightly in greeting.
“Hiya,” returned the Doctor softly. She pulled a chair closer and sat down. “That’s quite some kid you’ve got there, Pond,” she said, noticing her eyes fight for the sparkle they once had. “Maybe someday I ought to take her away with me.” The Doctor chuckled as Amy’s eyes grew stern. She winked at her, “Yes, fine then. I promise to wait until the day before her wedding.” Pushing away a strand of hair from Amy’s face she added, “and maybe I’ll even jump out of the cake at her fiancé’s stag, too.” She wiggled her nails for Amy. “Like it? Amelia put it on me.”
Amy made a face.
“Sparkly nail polish! I love it,” insisted the Doctor. “I wear sparkly nail polish now. It’s cool! I’m gonna keep it. It suits me. The new new me…”
Amy’s hand moved to cover the Doctor’s and she noticed Amy wince. A cloud of discomfort passed across her face and then was gone, replaced with the smooth, even countenance of acceptance itself. The Doctor leaned over and covered Amy’s hand with her other, stroking the back of her hand, feeling the wet tissue paper flesh that stretched over the wiry veins underneath; those veins that carried the mutated, diseased messengers of her compromised DNA throughout her body, spreading and replicating the invisible soldiers she’d grown so very tired of fighting.
Except they hadn’t quite got the message yet that the war was over.
Tears welled up in the Doctor’s eyes as she gazed at Amy, the implacable soldier, wife, mother and friend. The Doctor knew instinctively that if she’d been gifted with a longer life that Amy wouldn’t have cared if she had to change her sex to do so.
Yet, this was hardly a time to feel sorry for herself. Originally after the regeneration, she’d had no idea what this change was supposed to teach her. Now she had a much better idea. Such things didn’t matter anymore, her perspective was changed; suddenly she was grateful to live on at all.
“Pond, you’re amazing,” she whispered to her, feeling the last vestiges of her resentment against her own fate slowly ebb away.
Secure in the bed, Amy smiled peacefully and nodded slightly. Words had appeared to lose their burning necessity; instead, Amy winked at her and jutted her chin towards her slightly.
The Doctor laughed (despite the piercing knife of sadness ripping through her hearts), until it caught in her throat. She interpreted Amy’s gesture aloud: “’So are you’ you mean?”
Amy smiled, and made a small gesture for the Doctor to lean down to her. Slowly and with great effort, Amy rasped into the Doctor’s ear, “No matter… what… form you… take.”
The Doctor’s breath drew in, an exquisite pang that both rattled her breath and swelled her chest. Overwhelmed by sadness and admiration, she answered Amy, “I think I finally get that now,” she said softly, choking on her own tears. “Thanks...”
She doubted she could pour any more gratitude in her simple expression of appreciation, but she had tried.
The two friends held each other’s gaze for a long moment. Too soon they would be separated by distance and time. Amy was scheduled to begin a journey of her own where the Doctor could not follow. She could not be there to guide her and she would not be able to hold her hand to make it better or protect her. There would be no last minute tricks or miracles-and certainly no magic, doppelgangers, Timelord flimflam or paradoxes to save her.
For she was going somewhere the Doctor had never been, and with any luck, wouldn’t be headed for quite a while.
And by the look in her eyes, Amy didn’t resent the Doctor for it one bit.
Amy and the Doctor sat in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s company, and while the Doctor had so much to say-she found it wasn’t necessary. Soon she heard Rory’s footsteps on the threshold.
Finally she gathered up her hand and kissed it. “Bye bye, Pond,” she said, lovingly kissing the tips of her hair, her forehead and then caressing her face before leaving the room.
******
The Doctor stayed back in the hallway and allowed her family their final moments with Amy. Once she had passed, everyone exhaled, their uncertainties and the fearful anticipation they’d been holding was released with her. They wept tears of sadness and relief.
They had all passed through the veil into the unknown and were now liberated from the unspecified horror of nameless possibility into the relative comfort of their grief.
Amy was gone. She could not be hurt any more but somehow they would go on.
That was all that mattered now.
The Doctor marveled at the humans-their strength and their comfort in ritual-for even now they were at work as Amy’s father, Augustus, withdrew his granddaughter from the room so that Rory and Amy’s mother, Tabetha, could prepare the body. They gently removed all of the equipment and breathing apparatus-everything foreign and non-organic was taken out of the room immediately so that they could see her as she was-remember her as she was-released from the struggle and torment of her body’s failings.
Feeling like an interloper, the Doctor silently retreated downstairs and left them to it.
Legs made of lead, she clomped into the kitchen, dazed by the humming of the reverent and solemn voices above that spoke in hushed tones. Still in shock, the Doctor meandered around the room, randomly straightening things. The clock on the wall ticked loudly but sluggishly, seemingly slowing down to force them to negotiate their sorrow at a time that ticked by like wading through cold treacle. Standing back, she imagined the ghost of the adorably brave, ginger haired girl who had cooked him beans, toast and bacon and had given him apples, yoghurt and fish custard without a thought to say ‘no.’
He’d kept her waiting for so long and still she’d forgiven him.
Now all she could do was mourn her.
Finally overcome, the Doctor wept. She cried for The Boy and Girl Who Waited, who would now have to wait a bit longer, she cried for her family and the ones that got left behind. She cried for her own people and her bitter disappointment with the survivors, twisted by the Master. She cried for the man she was who had to give up the woman he loved to himself. She cried for all of the companions that she could never bring herself to say goodbye to, but never forgot. She cried for the brave little girl who feared the crack in her wall but never feared death.
Her shoulders shook, her nose ran and her eyes streamed, but she didn’t stop. And while she’d been oddly and mercifully free of headaches since she’d arrived, she clutched her head in her hands as her body rocked in time with her release.
The Doctor thought she’d cry forever, but it wasn’t nearly that long.
Rory froze up in the doorway, startled to witness the Doctor’s tears. For Rory, it appeared a rare moment of the Doctor’s intensely bared emotion-and it touched him very deeply.
He put a hand on her back gently to know he was there.
Caught, the Doctor vigorously rubbed the tears from her eyes with the sleeves of her old burgundy jumper. Rory reached for her and they hugged.
“Doctor Rory Williams Pond, the Boy Who Waited…” she breathed as she released him.
“I’d do it all again.”
Hesitating, she let go and took a small step back. “Do you regret me?” she asked.
“No.” Rory’s voice was resolute; he shook his head in surprise. “Not one bit. Why would I?”
“I ruined your life.”
“No, Doctor-you gave us a life! We were happier, laughed more, more in love, and more satisfied than we ever could have been by your lack! We were better from having known you.” He looked around the sparse kitchen, largely unchanged since Fish Custard, “I don’t know what we’d have been without you, but we wouldn’t have been fully ourselves. I don’t think that we would have enjoyed ourselves quite so much if you hadn’t crash landed into our lives.”
The Doctor thought Rory was sweet, but she wasn’t so sure. Her eyes were unfocused and she looked out into the middle distance, feeling out all of the timelines-all those that weren’t, as the result of the Doctor coming to call. The subtle lines of her face deepened with the sadness of her knowledge. “She’d have lived longer, y’know Rory. Without me. You’d still have her-“
“But we’d have been boring,” he said, with tears in his eyes. “You said it yourself, years ago.”
“I was just being unkind.”
“No. You were telling the truth. And I’d have a rubbish haircut with a tail…”
The two old friends chuckled in their shared sadness.
The Doctor nodded, remembering, “That was a rubbish tail...”
He watched her shake her head, and saw her unflappable guilt. “You always take so much responsibility…” he sighed, but the Doctor cut him off before he could finish.
“Somebody once told me that I made people unnecessarily reckless-made people take risks to impress me…” They looked at one another for a moment, the Doctor’s jaw set. “Turns out that somebody was right.”
“All risks aren’t bad. Besides, life is a risk. A madman with a crazy bow tie once taught me that.”
“The bowtie was a risk,” she sniffed.
“So was the tail,” he quipped.
She paused, considering it for a second. “Nope, mate. Not buying it. No points for that.” Another pause dragged out as the Doctor fiddled with her earlobe. Finally, she spoke, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay for the funeral.” Talking of risks…
Rory breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh yes, Doctor-please. Amy wanted you to but we weren’t sure if you would.”
“Well, if it’s what Amy wanted then I’m happy to,” she said as a sad smile played at her lips.
Rory fiddled a bit with his jumper before answering. “It seems that this regeneration is better at cleaning up the mess…”
“Oh, Rory,” she added with a sigh, “you have no idea…”
“I like it.”
She clasped her hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. “I’m so glad to hear you say it...”
******
The Doctor stopped outside a boutique in the anemic centre of Leadworth and peered in. Consignment store from the look of it, but she decided to go in. It was the morning of the funeral and she decided it was time to find herself her own suit-no patchwork jumble made from old incarnations any more. After all, the daughter of a loved companion had taught her the importance of being One’s Own Woman. The ladies in the shop were only too glad to help and soon, the Doctor had scads and stacks of clothes to try on until she found something just right.
“To hell with the raggedy. Time to put on a show!”
The bell on the door jingled pleasantly as she strode out of the shop. The bags in hand held her old wardrobe as she stepped out into Leadworth in style:
Burgundy wedge-heeled trainers led her down the pavements as her legs swished in her jacquard suit. Somehow, she’d managed to find a feminine-but still very tailored structured-shoulder suit-in a fabric of burgundy-on-navy vine pattern that reminded her of one of her favourite old ties. She felt like a million pounds, but doing the maths in her head and adjusting for the inflation rate of 2026, she decided that a million pounds wasn’t quite enough…
She whipped out her sunglasses.
“Yessiree, Bob! The bitch is back!” she announced defiantly, to nobody but herself, taking a few more confident steps forward... and promptly turned her heel in her shoes.
Gracelessness incarnate, she stumbled clumsily-hair and limbs flapping ungainly-a small giraffe taking her first steps. But quickly she was up; readjusting the sunglasses and smoothing her hair, she regained her balance and flounced off in the direction of the cemetery.
Absolutely nothing-not even an alien invasion or two inch heels-was going to keep her from getting there on time. She owed at least that much to Amy, but she regretted she was unable to spend any extra time to pick up a bouquet for the funeral.
The walk wasn’t far, but it gave her time to get used to the extra height in her heel, and she marveled that she might actually be finally getting used to the whole new center of gravity thing. Once she arrived, she saw most of the town had turned out to say their goodbyes. The Doctor recognized a lot of people from Amy’s wedding only sixteen years before, but the Ponds had been active and dearly loved in the community.
Some time later, as she listened to the eulogy, the Doctor looked across the lawn and spotted a handsome man in a dark suit-mid-forties, with beautiful, wavy ginger hair-just the colour she’d love to have someday-and crinkled light green eyes shining out of a kind face. She noticed he watched her with a dim curiosity. There’s something familiar about him, she thought, but she couldn’t place him, and her attention was soon diverted to the movement of the crowd as the minister finished his final blessing and closed the service.
By the time she looked again, he was gone-lost in a sea of dark suits, as she craned her neck to find him.
The Doctor decided she’d never seen him before after all.
But he’d just seemed so familiar. And his eyes had been so kind. Maybe she just needed to see someone looking like that at her, after everything.
She glanced back and saw a small bouquet of sunflowers left on the coffin.
She shook her head.
Surely someone other than she knew about Amy’s penchant for sunflowers?
She also swore she tasted the metallic tang of teleport exchange in the air.
Had to be coincidence, really…
******
Back at the house, she found Rory in a small crowd and together they briefly walked apart from the rest, toward the TARDIS.
“You need to know that Torchwood’s been keeping tabs on you since the Pandorica. They’ll protect you. You’ll be safe as houses. Also, you and Amelia won’t want for anything-“
“You don’t have to do that,” said Rory.
The Doctor was resolute, “Yes, I do.”
Rory nodded his silent acceptance and gratitude but the Doctor pulled him into a hug. “Be good. Raise Amelia. Never grow a tail. Call if you need me.”
He promised he would and then added, “I don’t figure it would do any good to remind you to look after yourself.”
“Naaawww,” chided the Doctor. “Where’s the fun in that?”
He shook his head. “Same old Doctor…”
The Doctor smiled warmly, “Goodbye, Doctor Williams.”
Rory shook his head, “It’s Doctor Pond, Doctor.”
She grinned back, “Yeah… Yeah, it is.”
By the time she reached the doors of the TARDIS she felt a tug at her suit jacket. She looked down to see Amelia’s little freckled face looking up at her.
“You going, Doctor?”
The Doctor started to stammer out excuses involving interstellar conflicts and a riot on Ribald 8 that she couldn’t give the details of, but Amelia stopped her.
“It’s ok. I know I’ll see you again.”
“Oh? You do…”
“Sure. But I think you need this,” and she handed the Doctor the bottle of glitter nail varnish from her pocketbook.
The Doctor grinned at her. “Stardust on my nails… I shall wear it and think of you.” She pocketed the gift and patted it.
And the circle continued: Fish Custard had given way to Stardust Nail Polish...
“I’m glad I got to meet you, Doctor,” said Amelia. “Mummy always said she thought you were imaginary when she was little. Now I’m gonna get to grow up and know you’re real.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help your Mummy, Amelia.”
“Sure you did. You made her happy. And when you’re happy nothing hurts quite so much and it’s harder to be afraid.”
“Are you afraid, Amelia?”
“I used to be, but I’m not any more. I used to think there were monsters and that they hid under my bed and waited for me to go to sleep at night. But Mummy told me about you and how you get rid of all the monsters so that little kids like me won’t cry and can sleep. Now that I’ve met you I know you’re real and that Mummy must have been right.”
The Doctor squatted down to the little girl’s height. “I want you to know that you can call me whenever you want and I’ll come to help you. Wherever I am, I’ll come and find you.”
“Oh, I’ll be ok,” she assured her. “But who will help you?”
Her breath caught in her throat. “What do you mean?”
“Well I have Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa. And Mummy’s gone but watching over me-so she’ll be my invisible friend now-but who will you have?”
The Doctor paused, considering this little girl who seemed like she might just be some kind of intervening angel-if she believed in that kind of thing-and she answered, “Oh, I’m pretty lucky. I have lots of people to look after me.” A lump grew in her throat as she repeated a version of what another beloved companion had said years ago, “Sometimes I act pretty lonely… but I actually have got the biggest family on Earth!” She ruffled her hair and tweaked her nose. “So, don’t worry about me, ok?”
Amelia nodded and the Doctor opened her arms for a great big hug.
******
Minutes later and seven and a half years earlier, the TARDIS materialized in Upper Leadworth square. The Doctor emerged, and walked towards the duck pond that finally had ducks.
She found her in the square, pushing baby Amelia in the pram. Amy smiled at her, taking the Doctor aback.
“Hello, Doctor,” greeted Amy. “You’re a girl now, huh?”
The Doctor stared at her in amazement, “How did you… Did River…!?”
“I heard the TARDIS, dopey! And who else would wear a suit like that in August?”
She looked down. “You don’t like my suit??”
Amy just laughed at her.
They spent an enjoyable hour together feeding the ducks-ducks that had miraculously returned to the pond one day. The Doctor didn’t say much, but just enjoying being in their presence and seeing Amy alive and vibrant, with her vivid red hair blowing free again was a salve on her broken hearts.
And when she left, she told Amy she’d see her again.
And she would. Maybe even more than just the once. Because she had a time machine, and she left out the boring days-the Sundays and Tuesdays and the Thursday afternoons-for just this sort of occasion, so she was free to pop back and say hello, whenever she liked....
It lessened the pain of saying goodbye.
This way she would always be young, she would always be alive and she would always be just one trip away.
Later, back in the TARDIS, after all the ducks had been fed, the Doctor pulled off a piece of paper with the coordinates written on it that she’d taped to the monitor.
She pointed the TARDIS towards River Song.
To be continued in Chapter 12: The Forgotten Day