"I'll tell her to write an afterword, for you. Maybe you'll listen to her"

Riversong walks up the stairs and the Doctor sits there, in silence.

[End of Angels Take Manhattan]

"Sweetie, I'm leaving now for the Ponds. Be back in a jiffy. Don't miss me!"

Riversong winks at the Doctor as she programs the time vortex manipulator for New York, 1940. They had located Rory and Amy's coordinates through the TARDIS datacore, and she was stopping by to say goodbye and to drop off the manuscript for Melody Malone: Private Detective in Old New York Town to be published. The Doctor and his TARDIS could not follow the Ponds, for fear of ripping New York apart: the Weeping Angels had left too many time distortions and the Ponds had created too strong a paradox for the TARDIS to land.

Riversong finished entering the coordinates and disappeared, leaving the Doctor alone in his TARDIS.

River arrived in 1940, in the foyer of an apartment building. She found the doorbell labeled "Williams" and rang. Rory answered, asking:

"Hello, who is this?"

Riversong grinned, and replied"

"Delivery for the Ponds"

The door buzzed open, and she continued through to the rest of the building. She found apartment number 7 and raps on the door. Amy opens the door, and stops for a moment.

"Rory!"

"Who is it, Amy?"

"ROOORY!"

She leaves the apartment and wraps her arms around River, flooding her with questions.

"Where is he? Where's the Doctor? How did the TARDIS get here? Where are we…"

Pulling away, and looking at Riversong's face, realisation dawns.

"He's not here"

"No. He thinks the time distortions around New York are still too strong and the TARDIS would rip it apart. I can here with the vortex manipulator—like a…"

Rory finishes for her, as they close the door behind them and settle into the living room.

"motorbike through traffic. Hello!"

"Hello, Dad! Yes, but he's wrong. I am sure the paradox you created that night in Manhattan cleared up the time distortions, and least enough so the TARDIS can land."

"Yes, but wouldn't our leaving create a paradox. I saw Rory's grave, he's meant to die here"

"The Doctor is getting too careful, doesn't want to draw attention to himself. But time can be rewritten, neither of you have to die here"

"You mean we can go home? And try to live a life that's…" Rory asks, trying to find a word to describe their life before being thrown back in time by a surviving angel, "…normal?"

"We can travel with the Doctor again?" her priorities clear, Amy starts to hope that she will once again be done with waiting for her raggedy man.

"Yes, but he so stubborn! He won't listen to me, so I thought you could talk some sense into him."

"Me? Well how am I supposed to do that if he's stuck in the TARDIS?"

"I brought this!"

"The book! Yes, well, he won't read any more of it now, will he?"

"Ah, but he doesn't need to read the book. Just the last page—an Afterword, by Amy Pond"

"Uh, yeah, it's Mrs. Williams," Rory interjects, attempting to correct River but ignored by the both Amy and River.

"No, he tears the last page out so the story doesn't have to end. He doesn't like endings"

"Exactly. This is not an ending. And I found the page from the park, and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He'll know it's from me and he'll read it"

"That's brilliant!" Amy moves to the typewriter and begins typing the afterword for Melody Malone: Private Detective in Old Town New York.

The Doctor strides aimlessly around the TARDIS control room, muttering to himself and intermittently fiddling with screens or nobs, and then walking away from the console. Finally, he sits down on the stairs, and digs his hands into his jacket pocket.

"Blimey, how does anything get here? What IS this?"

He pulls out a folded book page and turns it over to reveal a lipstick kiss and River's scrawling hand saying "Read me, sweetie."

He opens the page, to find the Afterword of Melody Malone: Private Detective in Old Town New York, by Amy Pond. He puts on his glasses, scans it, and jumps up, muttering to himself…

"River! But the time distortions! The paradoxes! We saw their gravestone! It can't be. But… what if it could?"

He rushes around the TARDIS console, flipping switches and turning nobs, stopping at the screen to watch it calculate something.

"It MIGHT just work. Or this is completely bonkers, and we may rip a hole through New York."

He stops and runs his hand through his hair and pushes his glasses up his nose a little.

"I suppose there's only one way to find out," He grins. "GERONIMO!"