To see my video take on this topic, search "Vende Lumo" on Youtube to find my channel, and then find "Everything Sad is Coming Untrue" in my uploads
I coined the word 'eucatastrophe': the sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with a joy that brings tears (which I argued it is the highest function of fairy-stories to produce). And I was there led to the view that it produces its peculiar effect because it is a sudden glimpse of Truth, your whole nature chained in material cause and effect, the chain of death, feels a sudden relief as if a major limb out of joint had suddenly snapped back
-J.R.R. Tolkien
Maybe this time she's finally gotten the better of him, finally done something that would leave him impressed. "Okay, Doctor, did I surprise you this time?"
He leans out of the box-oh, that brand-new, ancient, blue box- dressed in a snazzy black suit and bow tie, always the bow ties, and says, "Yes, you did. Completely astonished. Never expected that."
But his eyes said so much more.
Good girl Amelia, I knew you could do it Amelia, it was my plan all along, If something is remembered, it can come back, didn't I tell you that? I had a plan, I always have a plan you didn't think I would just walk into a crack without a plan. And just look at the two of you now, all dressed up and ready to be married you don't think I'd let a little thing like being erased from history stop me?
"Hello everyone, I'm Amy's imaginary friend—" He walks up to the head table and shakes her dad's hand. "But I came anyway."
She wants to burst out laughing, but this happiness is too deep for giggles. In one sharp breath, she decides to settle for teasing him. "You absolutely, definitely may kiss the bride."
The Doctor taps her on the lips. "From now on, I shall be leaving the 'kissing' duties to the brand-new Mr. Pond."
"No, I'm not Mr. Pond. That's not how it works." Rory protests.
"Yeah, it is."
"Yeah, it is." Rory grins back at him.
"Right then, I'll move my box. You're going to need the space." The Doctor leaned out of the TARDIS door. "I only came for the dancing."
He was terrible. Absolutely, completely, beyond a shadow-of-a-doubt, awful. Later he told her the dance was called "Drunken Giraffe," but a drunken giraffe would have been more coordinated. But sitting there, with Rory's hand on her shoulder, she didn't care one bit.
The Doctor looked happy. Really, genuinely happy. The dark look in his eyes—like a Greek statue that had gazed over centuries of bloodshed, unable to intervene—was gone, replaced with gleeful enthusiasm. He was crazy, immature, geeky, and brilliant.
He was the Doctor.
