Summary: Beginning in 1977, The Doctor is coaxed by his companion, Sarah Jane Smith, into attending an interview in New York with a fellow reporter, who harbours a secret about the future and it involves The Doctor himself. (4thDoctor, Sarah Jane, Amy/Rory, 11th/River.)
A/N: This is a re-upload and a more polished version of this story.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
Future Shadows
-U.N.I.T Headquarters, England, October 5th, 1977-
No!"
Sarah Jane Smith rolled her large, hazel coloured eyes, in response to the muffled decline announced from under the brown, wool-felt fedora.
The brunette young reporter, (dressed in a simple, blue floral dress,) walked across the U.N.I.T lounge to where the owner of the muffled voice (a long-limbed, tall, lanky figure of a man,) lay sprawled across a sofa on his back, the aforementioned fedora resting atop his face.
The man was clad in a mismatched, bohemian-like ensemble. (Comprised of ankle boots, light brown woollen pants, a fitted tartan vest over a wide-sleeved, white shirt, abnormally long, striped scarf, and a red satin neck tie. A long, military-style, deep brown coat usually completed the outfit, this item was slung across the man's middle as a make-shift blanket.)
Sarah Jane sat on the arm-rest of the sofa her companion was sprawled upon and lifted up his fedora, glancing curiously down at the man, "Why not?" She queried, cocking her head to the side when no answer was forthcoming and the man kept his eyes shut. "Well, Doctor?"
Finally opening up one very blue eye, The Doctor sighed heavily and opened up both his eyes to look up at the young woman, "I don't want to go." He folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes again. "Can I have my hat back now, please?"
Sarah clutched the fedora to her chest, "Not until you give me a concise explanation as to why you don't want to come with me to meet A. J. Williams." She responded, "Williams is one of the most renowned journalists in the world–"
"Exactly, Sarah," The Doctor interrupted, not bothering to open up his eyes this time as he addressed Sarah Jane. "I dislike journalists. They're pushy, self-righteous bores, poking around the majority of the time where they are very much not wanted. Now, may I have my hat back, please?"
With a shocked huff, Sarah Jane prodded the right side of The Doctor's face with her right hand index finger, (maintaining her grip on the fedora with her left,) "Certainly not after that remark. Ihappen to be a journalist, Doctor." She tapped his nose to drive her point home.
Giving her his usual, wide, toothy grin, The Doctor finally opened up his eyes again to look up at the disgruntled young woman. "Yes. But you're Sarah Jane Smith first. And you're only a tedious annoyance, when you remember you are a journalist. When you're being yourself, Sarah, my dear, you are most pleasant."
Sarah Jane raised her eyebrow, "Flattery –or whatever that attempt at it was– won't get you very far with me, at the present moment. If you're so inclined towards pleasant people, I'll have you know A. J. Williams is a lovely person. She's been nothing but gracious in offering to meet with me." She mentioned, turning away from The Doctor and crossing her white pump covered feet.
Let out an exasperated groan, the Gallifreyan Time Lord put his hands into the mess of tangled, chestnut coloured curls atop his head, "Exactly my point, Sarah. You have been invited, you should go. Have a lovely time. New York was quite interesting the last time I was there. I witnessed the purchase of Manhattan– although, the history books got it completely wrong, you know. The beads were actually–"
"But Doctor," Sarah Jane interrupted, turning back and staring pleadingly down at the alien man. "I thought you might like to meet Mrs Williams. She's a most remarkable woman, and she is the reason I became a journalist. I was inspired the moment I first read one of her articles."
The Doctor folded his arms across his chest and scowled, "Did I not just mention my dislike of journalists? And now you want me to meet the person who inspired you to become one?" He rolled over onto his side, facing the back of the sofa.
"No, thank-you. Leave my hat on the side-table before you go catch your plane, would you, Sarah? Send me a postcard when you get to New York. If you want to purchase one of those little souvenir, paper-weight snow-globes for me, that would be lovely of you–"
Sarah Jane bent down over the Doctor, pleading into his left ear, "Doctor, please–"
"–oh and whatever you do, don't get me anything with the Statue of Liberty. I don't like her. That statue sends shivers down my spine, for some reason that I've never been able to quite put my finger on…"
Sarah Jane lent her chin atop The Doctor's shoulder and grasped his upper arm, "Doctor, please listen to me a moment. This is important to me and I would love for you to be there. We can make a good holiday out of it. You're always looking for an excuse to get out of the U.N.I.T headquarters–"
"Yes," The Doctor half-turned and peered up at Sarah Jane, "for an adventure. Not a tiresome meet and greet with journalists of all beings." He turned back away, sighing heavily.
"But, if you're that adamant, provided you travel with me in the TARDIS –instead of making me take one of your primitive Earth aviation or sea based transportations– I'll accompany you."
Sarah put her arms around The Doctor, "Ooh. I knew you'd come around once you knew how important this is to–"
"We're taking the TARDIS?" The Doctor pressed and Sarah Jane sighed and nodded, kissing his cheek.
"Yes, of course we are." Smith assured her alien companion, moving out of the way as The Doctor rolled over and offered out his hand. Sarah smiled broadly and handed back the fedora, which The Doctor promptly put atop his curly-haired head.
"Hmm. Well then," the Tim Lord reached across for his coat, "we'll set off tomorrow. Autumn in New York with Sarah Jane Smith," The Doctor got to his feet and offered Sarah Jane his arm. "I can think of nothing nicer, actually."
Sarah Jane took The Doctor's offered arm and got to her own feet, smiling up at the tall alien, "Neither can I, Doctor. Just think of it, a stroll together through Central Park, dotted with Autumn foliage…a carriage ride, afterwards? With hot-chocolate and the stars above us?"
The Doctor flashed his wide, toothy smile down at his companion as they headed out of the U.N.I.T lounge. "Naturally. Only the very best for my Sarah Jane. Everything that can be done in New York, we'll do. The galleries, the museums, Broadway…we're going to take the 'Big Apple' by storm, Miss Smith." He vowed adamantly as they strolled down the hallway.
Sarah Jane laughed, "I'm so glad when you come out of your melancholy, Doctor. You're so much more pleasant, when you're excited."
Central Park, New York. October 6th 1977
The cooing pigeons took flight into the late morning. Their mottled coloured wings flapping with impressive speed as they flew off in various directions as the blue, 1950's styled, London Police Phone Box materialised slowly.
The TARDIS' chameleon-circuit had been damaged for fifteen years now, and thus the time-travelling spaceship had remained as a nondescript, London Police Box.
Making her usual wheezing sound, the TARDIS finally made her landing between two trees on an embankment, nearby a bridge.
The doors opened a moment later and Sarah Jane was the first out, taking in a deep breath and smiling at the cool scent. Dressed in dark brown flares, a fitted white shirt and a dark blue blazer, a pair of heeled, dark brown ankle boots and a white box purse, (tossed over her right shoulder,) finished off the journalist's ensemble.
Waiting for her companion to step out of the TARDIS, Sarah Jane stepped aside as The Doctor finally exited his beloved ship, pulling out his key and locking the blue-box.
"Are you sure I look okay, Doctor?" Smith questioned, turning around once and gazing questioningly up at him.
The Doctor smiled and nodded, pocketing his TARDIS key. "As I assured you before, Sarah, you look most charming. Very elegant, my dear." He reassured his companion, leaning against the TARDIS and folding his arms across his chest.
Sarah Jane pulled her compact out of her white purse, and flipped it open to give herself a once over, "You're certain? I don't know if I should go get a haircut before we meet with Mrs Williams, it's getting rather long–"
"Oh, don't you dare," The Doctor interrupted, pointing a finger at his companion. "Your hair looks lovely, Sarah. You look lovely." He assured the nervous young woman.
Sarah Jane beamed up at the Doctor, "Really?"
The Doctor nodded, "Yes, of course. But the more important question is," he turned around as Sarah Jane had done and held out his hands. "Do I look okay?"
Laughing, Sarah Jane looped her arm through The Doctor's left, "Oh, you big vain thing." She managed to tease between giggles, as The Doctor led them out onto the path leading towards the bridge.
The Doctor chuckled himself and turned to tap Sarah Jane's nose, "Laughter is often the best medicine for many things, including nervousness. Relax, Sarah," he soothed, patting the young reporter's pale hand, with his free right hand.
"It's not like you to be so jumpy. But, I do understand."
Sarah Jane glanced up at her companion, as they crossed over the stone bridge, "You do? Were you ever nervous to meet someone who inspired you?" She questioned and The Doctor nodded.
"Many people, Sarah. I suppose we all form an ideal about those we admire. What we'll say to them when or if we ever meet them, how we'll impress them in some way if we can…" The Doctor smiled and glanced away.
"I'm very old, Sarah. And I've met many, many people that I admire. That feeling never goes away, though. No amount of arrogance or wisdom ever seems to cure it. Personally, I'm glad it remains. It makes life so much more exciting, in my opinion."
Sarah Jane lent her head against The Doctor's arm, "And it is an excellent opinion, in my own." She looked up at him. "Don't ever lose it, Doctor. It makes you the wonder that you are."
The Doctor removed his left arm from Sarah Jane's right and put it around her shoulders instead, drawing her nearer to him, close enough for the young woman to hear the Gallifreyan's binary hearts, beating steadily through his broad chest.
"Oh, my Sarah Jane." The Time Lord murmured, as they strolled off of the bridge and back onto the path. "There is no-one like you in the whole universe. Don't leave me, my dear. Not yet." The Doctor pleaded softly –almost in a whisper– like he was intoning a mantra.
Sarah Jane shook her head, "Not ever, Doctor. I won't ever leave you." She assured him adamantly. Feeling his chest rise and fall in a heavy sigh, the young woman glanced up to see The Doctor staring straight ahead.
"You will, one day, my Sarah." The Doctor bent down to kiss the top of Sarah Jane's head, breathing in her sweet scent as he did so. "Just not now. Maybe not even in the future. But we all have a beginning and an end. One day it will come for us all."
Sarah Jane burrowed her face into The Doctor's coat and narrowed her hazel coloured eyes, "Don't talk of such things, now, Doctor. You promised me to not be so melancholy on this trip." She pointed out, slightly put-out that their pleasant stroll had turn to solemn conversation.
The Doctor sighed again and smiled, "Yes, I did promise. All right, no more talk of these melancholic, inevitable things I bemoan far too much about lately." He avowed and Sarah Jane pulled back, flashing The Doctor a small smile as the alien man continued.
"Let's get you to the restaurant to meet with your Mrs Williams. I just hope they make a decent cup of tea and tolerable sandwiches," The Doctor grasped Sarah Jane's right hand in his left and tugged her along, the young woman laughing at his determination.
"Come along, Sarah. Let's pick up our pace."
-:-:-:-
The small restaurant, (more like a café,) in lower-Manhattan, was charming in its own little Art Deco styled fashion.
Very much a throwback to a bygone era, it was a favourite place of writers, musicians and visual artists. The aura it had maintained during the sixties as a free-wheeling, bohemian type hang-out for artisans, had remained despite the more serious tone of the seventies, and this suited the aging journalist just fine.
Seated at the small table in the corner near the unlit fireplace, the aforementioned journalist was nursing a cup of coffee and gazing out thoughtfully at the small crowd in the tiny eatery.
With her faded red hair pulled up into a simple bun at the back of her head and large, tortoiseshell glasses perched on the rim of her nose, Amelia Jessica Williams née Pond was beginning to feel her over seventy years of life.
Not that all of her years had been spent gazing about cafés in lower-Manhattan, no. Amelia's first thirty-one years of life hadn't even been spent in this era of time, let alone in this country.
Amelia Jessica Pond had been born in Scotland in 1987. She had married her husband, Rory Williams, in 2011 in Leedsworth, England. She had had her child in the following year on an alien space-station called Demon's Run. Amelia published her first novel, Melody Malone, in 1963.
How? Three words: The Weeping Angels. One name: The Doctor.
Amelia had long ago shed the last tears for her lost life. She had Rory. She had sacrificed her 'Raggedy Doctor' and his wife, her daughter, Melody Pond/River Song. Amelia knew, given the chance, she would make that decision time and time again.
Never without Rory. Not in this life. Not in a do over.
It had been over so quickly, just turning away from the Weeping Angel, a quick blink and the residual time energy stolen as Amelia was shot back in time, to the nineteen-thirties. Where there had been no small mercy in that her Rory had been sent back to the same time, by the Angel, previously.
Her husband. Dr. Rory Arthur Williams. One-time nurse, one-time Last Centaurian. He had left her just a moment ago to visit the bathroom. Amelia had wanted Rory to come along, just in case she was right about their guest.
Sarah Jane Smith. A British reporter.
A British reporter who was often on special assignment for U.N.I.T . Smith was someone who was often in close contact with Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stuart, and often reported information directly from him.
Amelia knew it was a long-shot, but she thought it might be a way to contact her 'Raggedy-Man' Doctor, one last time.
One of the last times she'd been together with The Doctor, (during the cube incident,) she'd met Katherine Stuart, the daughter of the Brigadier. The Doctor had been very close friends with Kate's father, and had been working for U.N.I.T during the seventies.
I'm praying this is the right opportunity. Amelia knew that this was a possibility of closure for herself, and maybe for Rory too. Even if Sarah Jane Smith only find some way to give the Doctor a copy of Melody Malone, so one day he'd find it, and then read it out-loud to a much younger Amelia in Central Park. That would be enough.
The Doctor didn't know his beloved 'Ponds', yet. They couldn't create a paradox…not any more.
Chances were Smith didn't even know who The Doctor was…but the Brigadier knew, and Miss Smith knew the Brigadier. Yes…it's enough. Amelia resolved, taking a sip of her coffee.
We said our good-byes, Raggedy-man. There's no need, and there is nothing to say to someone who hasn't even met you yet.
Glancing back up at when the bell chimed on the door, announcing the arrival of another customer, Amelia starred over at the couple who entered the restaurant.
The brunette woman –dressed neatly– was of average height, pretty and large eyed. The young woman's companion was tall –around six-four in height– and broad shouldered. The man was wearing a fedora –which he docked off his head while Amelia observed the couple, revealing curly brown locks– a long coat, and an abnormally long, striped scarf.
The young woman standing in the entranceway, glanced around before recognising Amelia and waving over at her, before taking the hand of her tall, oddly clad friend and making their way over to William's table.
Amelia was startled for a moment, I've seen this woman before…wait…the TARDIS records… the middle-aged reporter remembered.
Long ago, during her first trip in the TARDIS, Amy Pond had tricked The Doctor into accessing his past companion records. This woman had been one of them, Amelia was sure of it.
She must be the Sarah Jane. The former companion The Doctor told me about visiting while Rory and I were on that honey-moon. She's probably travelled, or about to, with The Doctor. Funny, he never did mention that she was a journalist…
The young woman approached Amelia and held out her hand, "Mrs Williams, I'm Sarah Jane Smith. I can't tell you what an honour it is to finally meet you," Sarah Jane revealed herself and Amelia could have embraced the younger woman in relief.
"And it's an honour to meet you too, Miss Smith. I've read your articles, you're quite a talent. I don't think I had even a quarter of your skill at your age," Amelia complimented, grasping Sarah Jane's offered hand in both of hers as she shook it, smiling down at the young reporter.
Glancing up at Sarah Jane's companion, Amelia was slightly thrown off by the deep, penetrating, light-blue eyed gaze of the man. He was silently looking her over, keeping his face expressionless. Amelia had never seen this man before in her life…but that look on his features was so oddly familiar…
"Who is your friend?" Amelia directed the curious question at Sarah Jane, who motioned between her friend and Williams.
"Mrs Williams, allow me to introduce my companion, Doctor John Smith. No relation." Sarah Jane introduced quickly. Amelia offered her hand and the strange man took it firmly in his own, giving her a small smile.
"It's nice to meet you, Dr. Smith–"
"Please," The man's voice was deep, commanding and resounding. "Just call me The Doctor."
Amelia starred, No…it can't be… "Does everyone just call you, The Doctor?" She hesitantly voiced. I know he can change his face… this is a totally different man…but those eyes. They're a different colour, but the expression…wait for his reply. You'll know then.
Doctor 'Smith' blinked his eyes at the middle-aged woman and smiled a little more, actually showing his large set of teeth this time. "Why, yes they do. I'm not really sure why, but they do. Just 'The Doctor', Mrs Williams."
At that moment, Amelia wanted nothing more than to fling her arms around her future best-friend and weep. It's you…it's really you…my own Raggedy-Doctor. I have so much that I could tell you…but you're not the you I know…did know…yet.
But, instead, Amelia had to settle for grasping The Doctor's offered hand in both her own, smiling up at him with all the pleasure of seeing her friend again, even if he didn't know her yet. "Well, it's very, very nice to meet you too, Doctor."
The Doctor gazed at her curiously, before nodding his head, "Likewise, Mrs Williams," he responded, not quite sure why there was a slight glassiness to the reporter's lovely eyes.
Amelia pulled back her hands –although loath to do so– and motioned to the chairs, "Please, take a seat," she couldn't take her eyes off of this younger version of her best friend. He's not so different, really. He physically looks different…but that fashion sense… "I must say, Doctor, you have quite an interesting flair for fashion. I like your scarf."
The Doctor lifted up a corner of his long scarf –wound about his neck– and narrowed his eyes down at the item, "Yes. I'm not really sure where I picked up the thing, but I am rather fond of it." He admitted, pulling out a chair for Sarah Jane, waiting for her to sit down before he pulled out the one beside her for himself.
Amelia inwardly grinned, "Oh it's very cool, Doctor. Scarves are cool." She couldn't help herself, and Sarah Jane raised her brow in surprise at the term from the older woman, while The Doctor flashed his wide, toothy grin.
"Oh really? You really think so? Yes, I suppose it is." The Doctor glanced aside at Sarah Jane and pointed over at Amelia. "You were right. She is most pleasant."
Sarah Jane smiled and patted The Doctor's hand, "There, you see?" She spoke so tenderly to The Doctor, she smiled back over at Amelia. "I told him I'd change his opinion of reporters, Mrs Williams."
Amelia smiled and took a sip of her coffee, she remembered how fondly The Doctor had spoken of his former assistant. "My Sarah Jane," he called her. Amelia had never heard him speak like that about anyone, even River, (whom The Doctor seemed to be more or less blown away by, rather than charmed. )
"I'm glad to help, Miss Smith," Amelia winked, sharing an inside joke with Sarah Jane that was completely one-sided. Sarah Jane smiled hesitantly in response and turned her gaze over at where a greying haired man –with a prominent nose and kindly eyes– was approaching their table.
"Please don't get up," the man said, offering his hand to Sarah Jane. "You must be Miss Smith, how do you do? I'm Dr. Williams."
Sarah Jane smiled up at the older man, his hair swept back in an old fashioned style. "How do you do, sir?" She greeted, glancing behind at The Doctor, "This is–"
"This is The Doctor, Arthur," Amelia interrupted gently, (her husband now went by his middle name in most circles.)
Rory Williams stared wide-eyed at the strangely dressed man, before glancing aside at Amelia, "Just 'The Doctor'?" He looked over at The Doctor again, before blinking over at his wife. "The Doctor?" Amelia nodded and Rory stepped around Sarah Jane to shake The Doctor's offered hand.
"Well…how are you, Doctor?"
The Doctor inclined his head, "Just fine, thank-you, Williams." He replied, wondering only passingly at the smile Williams shared with his wife, after hearing that greeting.
"That's good to hear." Rory glanced over at his wife, who was still settling her eyes every so often over at The Doctor. "Right. Well, I don't mean to be discourteous, Miss Smith, but I was wondering if you would be so kind as to help me bring back some lunch for everyone?"
Sarah Jane's eyes darted between her idol and her idol's husband, before nodding, "Certainly, Dr. Williams," she got to her feet and bent down so she was level with The Doctor's ear. "Please behave yourself." Smith whispered in the Time Lord's ear.
The Doctor turned and looked innocently up at his companion, "Naturally, Sarah." He responded non-commitedly, giving a small wave as Sarah Jane allowed Dr. Williams to lead her over to the crowded bar.
Settling back in his simple wooden chair, The Doctor smiled over at Amelia. "She worries so, my Sarah Jane."
Amelia cocked her head to the side, "I can see that she cares very much for you, Doctor," she picked up her spoon to idlely stir the small amount of coffee remaining in her mug. "Do you care for her, Doctor?"
The Doctor folded his arms across his chest, "Of course I do. Sarah Jane and I have been as thick as thieves for years now. I–I had an accident over half-a-year ago, now, and she was the first face I saw when I woke up." He revealed and Amelia stared at that man –both strange and familiar–sitting across from her.
"You were the first face this face ever saw…" He must have regenerated while Sarah Jane was with him.
Amelia smiled and lowered her eyes as she let out a sad chuckle.
"What is it?" The Doctor voiced and the middle-aged, red-haired Scottish native glanced back over at her guest's companion with a sigh.
"It's nothing. It's just you remind me of someone I knew a long time ago." Amelia admitted, putting her spoon back on her saucer.
The Doctor nodded, leaning forward and clasping his large hands on the table. "It's a likely coincidence, Mrs Williams, I was just thinking that you remind me of someone I knew a long time ago."
Amelia nodded, "Oh…was she Scottish, too?" She ventured, thinking about how much more closed-up and tense her Raggedy Doctor had been, as opposed to his Teeth and Curls version.
Shaking his head, The Doctor revealed those prominent teeth of his again as he smiled, "No, no my Mother wasn't Scottish."
Williams née Pond nodded, but inside she was completely shocked. His Mother? He never mentioned anything about his heritage to me. Nothing about his family in particular…
"She had red hair like yours, but curling." The Doctor continued, moving the salt and pepper shakers across the table with two fingers. "Her eyes were lighter than yours as well. But the way she carried herself and the way she made people comfortable right away…I suppose it is a way of mothers."
Amelia raised her brow, "Pardon me?"
The Doctor glanced up, "You are a parent, aren't you?" He queried and Amelia nodded hurriedly, the feeling of déjà vu almost overwhelming.
"I…I am," Amelia reached over for her purse and pulled out her wallet, taking out a photograph of a good-looking boy with brown, shaggy, ear-length hair. "This is my son, Anthony. It was taken quite a few years ago. He's in his thirties now."
The Doctor smiled and looked at the black and white picture, "Children are a blessing." He added softly, handing back the photograph to Amelia, who smiled and nodded, before hesitantly locking eyes with The Doctor.
"Are you a parent, Doctor?" Amelia had ventured this question before to her Raggedy Doctor, and had only gotten a pain-filled glance in response.
"I was," The Doctor responded solemnly. "I had children. My daughter passed away and I do not see my son. I don't really see any of my family, nowadays." He stared at Amelia, who winced sympathetically. "I see I also touched a nerve, Mrs Williams."
Amelia flashed a small smile, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so blunt with my questions, Doctor. Forgive me, it's in my nature, I'm sorry if this affects your opinions on reporters." She forced a chuckle and The Doctor continued to stare at her, but smiled gently.
"Well, to be honest, they weren't at very high to begin with, Mrs Williams, apart from my opinion of Sarah Jane. It's quite all right, we'll speak no more on the subject," The Doctor dismissed, leaning back on his chair again. "You'll have to forgive me as well, I'm not much for small talk. I spend a lot of time alone in my laboratory."
Amelia nodded glibly, cocking her head to the side, "Miss Smith must keep you on your toes, some of her reports suggest that she's a rather adventurous young woman," she tried to see if The Doctor might fend a little bit of truth and reveal something of his latest adventures.
Staring again at her solemnly, The Doctor leaned forward, "You act as if you're waiting for me to say something revealing. I can assure you, Mrs Williams, any secrets of U.N.I.T, or relating to myself on a personal level, shall remain as such, secrets." He responded mildly. But there was that familiar angry, protective threat behind the seemingly mild tone of reply.
Mrs Williams held up her hands, "All right, I surrender. I promise to keep to two subjects, the weather and everyone's health, from now on," she joked, but inwardly Amelia felt the pain from the way The Doctor regarded her as a stranger, addressing her with cool politeness.
The Doctor smiled thinly in response and looked away to his left, not catching the fallen expression of his future companion and erstwhile mother-in-law, who bit her lower lip and glanced to her left. Amelia hoped The Doctor also didn't catch the glassiness in her bespectacled eyes.
I was your Pond, Doctor. Your Amelia Pond, like a name in a fairytale. Although now, I suppose for you I won't be your Amelia Pond for many years yet. But I am, right now, still your Amelia Pond, 'The Girl Who Waited'. Just as much as your 'My Sarah Jane' is to you right now. And you're still my Raggedy Doctor. My poor, sad Raggedy Man, who still has so much to go through…
"I brought you a proper English tea, Doctor and a roast beef sandwich." Sarah Jane's sweet voice broke through Amelia's thoughts and ended the awkward silence. The young reporter placed the tea and saucer in front of The Doctor, then put down his sandwich plate as she put down her own tea and sandwich.
"Ah, thank-you, Sarah," The Doctor smiled up at his assistant, his tone once again jovial as he reached across for the sugar shaker. "Although, I don't know quite how proper this 'American English' tea's going to be."
Rory placed a salad roll and another coffee down in front of his spouse, sitting down beside Amelia just after Sarah Jane had sat down back next to The Doctor. "Everything all right?" He whispered in his wife's ear, putting down his own sandwich and a cola. "I know that look."
Amelia turned her gaze over to her husband, "There's nothing wrong, don't give me that stupid face, Williams," she hissed back, nudging him away and staring down at her coffee.
"Mrs Williams?"
"Hmm?" Amelia looked over at Sarah Jane, who had pulled out a notepad and pencil. "Oh… Miss Smith…Sarah Jane, would it be all right if we have lunch first? I promise I will answer every question you have." She needed a moment –or several– to compose herself out of her sadness. I didn't think it would be this hard…then again I never thought I would ever see him again…
Sarah Jane nodded and smiled, "Of course, Mrs Williams–"
"Amelia." Amelia insisted with a small smile in response.
"–Amelia," Sarah Jane amended, popping her notepad back in her purse and reaching over for her tea.
There was a moments silence around the table, The Doctor munching away on his sandwich, glancing aside suspiciously every so often at Amelia, who was mildly picking at her roll, pretending not to notice.
I see you, Raggedy Man. But I'm not going to say a damn word. Amelia thought crossly.
Rory, –cutting into his open club-sandwich– glanced between The Doctor and his scowling wife. He'd never like awkward silences and this happened to be the worst kind of awkward silence.
Hell, this might be the most awkward of awkward silences, since The Doctor told me he kissed my fiancée at my Stag party…
Sarah Jane had also noticed the coldness brewing between The Doctor and Amelia, nibbling on her sandwich with not much of an appetite, she was currently feeding off her own sense of curiosity. What happened in those few minutes between them, while I was with Dr. Williams?
There was the soft sound of music –coming from the jukebox in the far corner– that wafted over the noisy chatting going on in the busy café, Amelia smiled at the soft opening strains of the song, humming along to it unconsciously.
Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom. Well, who am I to keep you down…?
Sarah Jane's eyes lit up as she lowered the cup from her lips, "I love this song," she admitted and Amelia nodded her head.
"Me too…loneliness like a heartbeat drives you mad. In the stillness of remembering what you had, and what you lost…" Amelia sang along, "I love it. My Mother used to sing this song all the time to me when I was a little girl…" she trailed off, realising her mistake when Rory squeezed her hand in warning.
Sarah Jane let out a laugh, "Oh but she can't of! The album it's from was only released earlier this year, Mrs Williams," she pointed out.
The Doctor nodded his head, "I concur, as Sarah Jane was insistant on playing that album, ad nauseum, when it first came out," he added, the suspicion in his eyes growing.
Amelia smiled hurriedly, "Of course not. But it reminds me of another, much older song she used to sing to me," she hurriedly amended. Sarah Jane nodded and Amelia glanced aside to see The Doctor's reaction.
The Doctor's aforementioned reaction was a surprising one, he was chewing on a mouthful of his sandwich, smiling at Amelia, like he'd figured out something. Something that put his previous serious suspicion of Amelia Williams to rest.
Oh dear…
"It's all right, Mrs Williams. I just don't meet many people your age that enjoy modern music that much," Sarah Jane smiled broadly. "Or use the term 'cool'."
"Nor have I," The Doctor immediately adjoined, that toothy smirk growing wider. "Most unusual." He took a sip of his tea and smirked over at the Williams.
Dr. Williams held up his hands, "Oh no, no. We're very usual, Doctor," he put his arms around Amelia's shoulders. "I mean…normal. Just very, very normal. Very dull. Amelia writes her articles, I run a day practice. That's all. In bed at every evening after the Late Show."
The Doctor nodded his head and smiled that 'cat-that-got-the-cream' smile, "Quite." He picked up a spoon to stir his tea, "The Williams. Very usual."
"Doctor!" Sarah Jane admonished, but Amelia actually chuckled and glanced aside at her husband. Rory was also hiding a laugh behind his hand. The middle-aged couple not being able to help themselves.
"It's all right, Sarah Jane," Amelia assured the shocked young woman, "I'm afraid Arthur and I have picked up on some of our son's slang. Plus some of my interns are fond of taking us out to those discos, aren't they, dear?" She questioned Rory, who deliberately took a large mouthful of his food, so he'd only have to nod in assent as he chewed.
The Doctor had obviously grown bored –his suspicions put to rest even though he hadn't voiced anything yet– and was poking at the last of his sandwich with a fork, "Music nowadays is quite tame compared to what's to come," he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowed.
Amelia took a sip of her coffee, pretending not to have heard The Doctor. He's even more childish here and now than he was–will be, rather–in the future. He's definitely right about being a grouchy old man sometimes, really…he never did tell me how long Time Lords live for…
When they'd finished lunch in pretty much silence, Rory got up from his chair, obviously eager to make some sort of escape from the awkwardness.
"Well, I suppose I should go get us some dessert –"
The Doctor raised his hand as he interrupted the medical doctor, standing up himself, "I think it's only fair that Mrs Williams and I go fetch desert. If she'd be so gracious as to accompany me?" He invoked and Amelia nodded, getting to her feet and stepping around the table to follow the lanky alien.
"Of course, Doctor. We won't be a moment," Amelia excused herself and followed after The Doctor. When they were both standing in front of the dessert case, The Doctor leaned down to Amelia's ear level.
"The nineteen-seventies, eighties or nineties?"
Amelia glanced aside at him, before turning her gaze back to the array of cakes and sweets, "Pardon?"
The Doctor smiled slightly, Amelia catching the reflection of his expression in the glass of the desert case. "When you were really born, Mrs Williams." He responded simply. "For your mother to have loved to sing you something produced only last year, the likely date of your birth is in the later part of the twentieth century. Don't act surprised, just answer my question."
Amelia swallowed back a happy sob, My Raggedy Doctor, "Eighties. I was born in 1987…will be…it–" she took in a shaky breath, "–it's a bit difficult to keep replacing tenses." She whispered back, looking up at the server who had just appear behind the counter. "I'll have two chocolate éclairs. Doctor?"
The Doctor leaned down to study the sweets behind the glass. "Oh, a slice of that cherry pie and a slice of that carrot cake." He ordered, the server nodded and stepped back to go get some plates to place their orders upon. The Doctor leaned back down to whisper in Amelia's ear.
"What happened, Mrs Williams?"
The middle-aged woman pinched the bridge of her nose, "The Weeping Angels, Doctor." She said simply, The Doctor took in a sharp breath and Amelia continued. "I can't tell you when, I can't tell you why." Amelia glanced up at The Doctor.
"I can't even tell you who, Doctor. And don't make me say anything more."
The Doctor nodded solemnly, "I see. I understand. It's a future matter," he glanced up at where the server had placed the plates with their party's respective deserts on a tray. "Thank-you," The Doctor thanked the server, picking up the tray before he and Amelia made their way back.
"I do like to lecture on about paradoxes. I'm sorry."
Amelia rested her hand on The Doctor's arm and they both halted, "Don't be. Please don't be. I have a good life here with my husband, I know," she took in a deep breath, "you blame yourself so much for so many things. But when the time comes, please promise me not to blame yourself at all, please?"
The Doctor sighed and gave Amelia a small smile, "I can't make any promises for my future self, unfortunately Mrs Williams." The Doctor raised his brow, "I may not be the same man I am right now."
Amelia smiled and squeezed his arm before letting go, "You're always The Doctor," she assured him as they continued walking back to the table, where Sarah Jane and Rory were waiting expectantly. "And I will always have faith in whatever you do."
The next hour or so was spent pleasantly, Sarah Jane questioned Amelia on her influences and life. The Doctor asked no further questions about the future and instead had a conversation with Rory about current medical practices and what research was being done, gently dropping in hints, but enough that Rory picked up on what The Doctor knew. Rory let him know –just as subtly– that he was only aiding in future development, not advancing the human race faster than what was necessary.
Then, just like that, it was starting to get dark and they ended the interview.
Sarah Jane stood up and offered her hand to Amelia, "It was lovely to meet you, Amelia." She thanked the older woman, who took the young reporters hand in her own as The Doctor said good-bye to Rory.
"You too, Sarah Jane. I hope we meet again." Amelia dropped her hand and then turned to The Doctor, "And you, it was lovely meeting you, Doctor." One more time. She added silently.
The Doctor gripped Amelia's hand in his own, "The pleasure was mine, Amelia Williams. And I must say, you have changed my opinion on reporters quite a lot, almost as much as Sarah Jane." He assured her kindly, his eyes full of understanding.
Amelia looked between them, "Are you staying in New York for a while?" She questioned and Sarah Jane glanced up at The Doctor.
"For tonight. The Doctor has promised to take me to a Broadway show and then a carriage ride," Sarah Jane linked her arm through The Doctor's. "I hope he hasn't forgotten what he promised me."
The Doctor patted Sarah Jane's hand, "I don't forget anything, my dear." He replied.
They moved to depart and Amelia remembered, "Oh, may I talk to Sarah Jane a moment, privately, before you go, Doctor?" She queried and The Doctor nodded– suspicion in his gaze– but he let go of Sarah's hand.
"Of course. I'll be outside, Mrs Williams, Dr. Williams," The Doctor put back on his hat and tipped it as he headed towards the exit.
Once The Doctor had departed, Amelia reached into her bag and pulled out a novel, with a blonde-haired, classic femme fatale on the cover. "Sarah Jane, I want you to give this to The Doctor." She handed it to the younger woman.
Sarah Jane looked down at the book, "Melody Malone? I read this book as a teenager, I loved it…but," she stared at Amelia. "Why do you want me to give this to The Doctor?"
Amelia smiled, "I wanted to give it to him earlier, but he refused, saying he doesn't like presents. But I was hoping you might slip it to him rather sneakily if you can," she winked at Sarah Jane, who laughed as she put the novel in her purse, clipping it shut.
"Oh that's him all right. I'll see he gets it," Smith promised, offering her hand to Rory. "Dr. Williams."
"Miss Smith," Rory replied with a smile. Sarah Jane gave them a departing wave as she walked away and out of the restaurant.
Sarah Jane walked out of the café and saw The Doctor leaning against a lamppost, "There you are, Doctor." She greeted.
The Doctor smiled and offered his arm, "Here I am, Sarah Jane." He waited as Sarah Jane linked her arm through his before they set off at a brisk pace. "Now, what show are we going to see?"
Sarah Jane lent her head against The Doctor's arm, "Joseph And The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat?" She suggested.
The Doctor sighed over-dramatically. "I suppose so. Come to New York to watch a show penned by two Brits. How very British of you, Sara Jane."
Sarah Jane laughed as they turned around the corner, "Just supporting our boys, Doctor. I'm sure you'd do the same if Broadway had a show written by Gallifreyans."
"Don't count on it, Sarah. Gallifreyan entertainment is more like a melodrama then any human modern musical. Beings in colourful costumes, long-winded speeches and a lot of posturing about, pretending to be important…actually, that's the Parliament Arena…no…actually, I think they're the same thing…"
-:-:-:-
The Williams could see The Doctor and Sarah Jane walk past the large, bay window of the café and down the left side of the street. Amelia smiled through the tears beginning to weal in her eyes as The Doctor walked out of their life for the last time.
"Good-bye, my Raggedy Doctor. And thank-you for it all." Amelia murmured. Rory put his arm around her shoulders, and Amelia rested her head on his shoulder.
TARDIS Int. 12th September, 2012
"Doctor!" Amy called out, walking down the TARDIS hallways, "Doctor?"
"In here!" A voice called out from one of the nearby rooms and Amy poked her head around the doorway, her long, loose red hair falling down over her shoulder as she did.
"Where are you, we've got to meet Rory–" Amy stared around at the huge room, filled with literally dozens upon dozens of racks of clothing. "–whoa…"
The Doctor's head popped up from where he was rummaging through a stack of clothing, up on the second level. "Oh, hello, Pond." He waved and ducked back down. "Don't mind me, I'll just be a second, or two."
Amy looked around as she climbed up the staircase, reaching out to flick through a row of velvet jackets, followed by a row of lacy-sleeved, ruffled shirts. "What is this place? Is this where you got that ton of clothing, you literally dumped on my bed, after the Space-Whale adventure?" She queried, turning around to see The Doctor sitting Turkish-style in the middle of a pile of clothing.
"Yes, this is the wardrobe room," The Doctor was wearing an Edwardian style Cricket jacket and was holding a cricket bat. "I came in here looking for another bow-tie and I got to reminiscing, as I do. I'm over twelve hundred years old now, after all." He stood up and moved the bat in a motion.
Amy laughed, "You, played cricket?" She questioned disbelievingly.
The Doctor smiled and winked. "Well, not really…actually, yes. But not professionally, just amateur. My friend, Tegan, said I might get a spot on the English team, even the way I played. But this was back in the eighties and she was Australian, so she was bias. " The Doctor glanced down at his left lapel and sighed.
"It's just not the same without a stick of celery."
Amy raised her brow, "Celery?"
The Doctor shrugged and nodded, putting aside the bat and shedding the coat, "Not many men can pull of a decorative vegetable, fortunately, I can…or could, rather," he pushed back his lanky hair as he sat back down on the floor. "First time I was a blond. Been a blond three times actually, closest I ever got to being ginger, so far."
Amy chuckled and picked up a brown fedora, "You must think you're so impressive." She put on the fedora. "Do you use that as a pick-up line?: Hello, I'm The Doctor. I've been eleven different men," she put on a deepened voice and pulled down the brim of her hat, jutting out her lower-lip and looking up at her friend.
The Doctor pointed a finger as he tossed aside a multicoloured blazer-jacket, "Actually, I'm always the same man, different face," he slapped his cheeks for emphasis, and Amy flopped down next to him, transferring the fedora to The Doctor's head.
"Oh, I've known two-faced men before, but you're the eleven-faced man. Sounds like a B-grade horror movie from the fifties." Amy pulled on a black leather coat, "Ooh, I like this. Can I have it?"
The Doctor glanced aside, "Sure. I'm not going to wear it ever again," he dismissed, Amy rolled up the sleeves of the jacket slightly, and rested her chin on The Doctor's shoulder as he wound a cravat around his hand.
"Did you wear this during a rebellious regeneration? Doctor without a cause?"
The Doctor glanced aside, "Hmm? Oh, no. Regeneration nine. Post-war traumatic regeneration, actually." He added, glancing down at the cravat. "Wasn't a pleasant experience, I didn't want to regenerate at all. I liked my eighth incarnation, tried everything to stop the process. It didn't work."
Amy blinked, taking off the leather jacket, "I see." She brushed back the lanky fringe from The Doctor's forehead, poking out from under the fedora. "It hurts, doesn't it? And you've gone through it ten times?"
The Doctor nodded, smiling down at Amy, "Sometimes it hurts more than others, but it always hurts," he admitted, removing the fedora. "Your entire body twists and conforms to an entirely different physicality. Even though your memories and your very self stays the same, another man gets up and walks away. You walk away, in another body."
Amy cocked her head to the side, "So, it's not like a snake shedding its skin. Just another layer?"
The Doctor shook his head, "Oh…in a way. It's much more complicated, but I'm always me." He smiled at Amy, "Go on. I'll meet you and Mr Pond as soon as I find that elusive bow-tie."
Amy got to her feet and smiled, "I'll be waiting. Hurry it up, Raggedy man," she ordered, walking back down the stairs and exiting the room.
The Doctor smiled and glanced aside at where the top of something was peeking out over the top of the left pock of a military-style, deep brown coat, discarded nearby. "Hello, what's this?" He reached over and pulled out the novel. There was a blonde, curly haired woman in a fedora on the front, she was dressed in a trench-coat and holding a handgun.
"I don't remember ever reading this. Melody Malone. By A.J Williams. Hmm." The Doctor leaned back, "Why does that name sound so familiar?" He glanced at the cover, "Love the cover art. Reminds me of someone, too."
Shrugging, The Doctor got to his feet, "I haven't read a good pulp fiction novel in a long time. At least it'll give me something to do while the Ponds are smooching," he pocketed the novel and looked around again, finally spying what he'd been looking for.
"Ah ha!" The Doctor grabbed the blue velvet bow-tie. "There you are. And away I go." He got to his feet and hurried down the stairs, exiting into the hallway. "Autumn in Central Park with the Ponds, how very nice."
Thank you for reading. The epilogue will be up soon.