Haven't watched any Who this season yet (I know! I need to get on it!), but I wanted to share my theory that I've turned into a one-shot. I will probably revise it later, after I actually sort of know what's going on, and after we find out what actually happens to the beloved Ponds. As I said this is based off a theory (the River Song's Broach theory, it's on google) and my thought that daughters often inherit their jewelry... from their mothers.
As usual, I own nothing, all hail the wonder that is BBC.
"I've met you somewhere before, haven't I?"
No, he replied, babbling about a new face and whipping around the room with that peculiar girl, who used to be a nun but was now a policewoman.
She couldn't shake that feeling of familiarity, though. She felt the same way about the girl, Amy. Like she knew her, better than she ought to as the grandmother of a friend. That's who she was, right? It was so hard to remember sometimes. Maybe she was more- Jeff's girlfriend, maybe? No, no. That wasn't right. Amy was with that nurse. What was his name? She couldn't recall. They were good together, though, she remembered thinking that. She was with this new man now, though.
This man that seemed so familiar. He reminded her of someone, someone important. A nagging itch scratched at the back of her mind, and she could picture him in a different setting. Blue. She could picture him standing in front of blue, reaching up towards his collar to straighten- And then she was interrupted, and she lost the image.
What was I thinking about just now?, she wondered. It was important. She struggled to recall. Well, Jeff will know, she thought. Jeff will remember it for me. He was such a good son. No, that wasn't right. She didn't have a son. Did she? She had Jeff, though. Jeff helped her with everything, even if she didn't always remember it. It was hardly any wonder he lacked a girlfriend, with all the time he spent taking care of her. It was probably a good thing the old woman didn't realize this, or she would have felt terribly guilty.
Of course, Jeff wasn't the only one looking out for her- When Jeff was out, another man stopped by. A young man, with eyes older than her own, though his weren't lined with wrinkles. He only came when she was sleeping, of course, so she wouldn't have known him even if her memory wasn't damaged with age and disease.
He'd lean over her frail form, feeling her pulse and measuring her breath. Occasionally, he'd pull something from his pocket and wave it over her, until he was satisfied with the readings. Not that he ever was pleased with the readings, he just was sure they weren't going to change.
"Oh, Pond," he'd whisper into her ear. "I miss you terribly."
He'd settle into the chair next to her pillow, and begin to tell stories.
"I've never heard anyone talk back to a Cyberman quite like that! Clara's a real riot, the two of you would have gotten along fabulously…" The old woman would snore lightly.
"River's doing well, of course. Or as well as can be expected, what with her situation. I'm going to get her out of the Library soon, I promise." Her hand clenched and unclenched slowly, and the man took it hesitantly within his own.
"It's amazing how positive she still is, you know. You two really did a hell of a job raising her." He grasped her withered hand tightly, and traced her palm with his fingers.
"That was the one good thing, eh? I lost so much time with you- But at least she gained it. The angels really nailed it, didn't they? If they were going to send you anywhere, a few years before Melody's regeneration was the perfect point." He sighed deeply.
"I'm still angry with you two, you know. I understand. Raising her, together, being a real family- That was all you really ever wanted. But-I," he stammered, "I wanted to be a part of it, too. That was what I wanted."
"And you didn't even tell me where you were! I looked everywhere, you know. River finally admitted she knew you were both safe, but she refused to tell me when and where. On orders from you! Why would do that, Amelia? Why?"
He knew why, of course. If River had told him too soon, when the loss of his two best friends was still fresh, he would have wanted to right the wrongs he felt the universe had dealt him. He would have gone back, and restored their timeline- thus destroying Melody's memories of her life with them. And then she never would have gone to Leadworth, to grow up with them. And then she wouldn't have met the Doctor, and then, and then, and then she would not have been able to tell the Doctor where to find them in the first place. He and River had created dozens of time loops on behalf of each other and the Ponds, but a paradox was another thing. She would never allow him to do it, and he would have been foolish to try.
But maybe there was another reason, he thought. "Was life really so much better without me?" He pressed her hand against his forehead, as a tear trailed down his cheek.
"Was I always just preventing you from living the life you wanted? I'm sorry if I was. So, so, sorry. But you had so much hope, Pond. The first time I met you- A girl who lost her parents, who was all alone in a house that didn't make sense. But you still wanted to help me. You still could be amazed. And I grew to envy you- You and Rory. You loved each other so much. That was all there was to it. If you had each other, that was enough."
The woman rolled over in her sleep, and her hand slipped from his.
"And when I was with you two- Well, I thought it might be enough for me, too. I wanted it to go on forever. But nothing lasts forever. Especially humans."
She stirred, and her eyes fluttered.
No, no, he prayed to himself. Don't wake up, Pond. Not yet.
His wife's words rang in his ears: "Keep her safe, in Leadworth. She will last just a little past the invasion of the Atraxi. Visit her until then, for us both. But if she wakes up- That's the last chance you'll have."
He had just fixed the Jeff, too- For such a highly-recommended robotic, he certainly got a lot of viruses. Probably all those porn sites he keeps visiting, the man mused.
But he had just repaired the robo-boy! And stocked the fridge with custard! And bought new bowties for his next few visits! And-
It did no good. However many reasons he could think of for why this was the most inconvenient time for the widow Angelo to wake, it did not stop her eyes from opening.
"Hello," he said softly, both his hearts breaking slowly. She stared at him in fear.
"Who are you? Why are you in my house?"
"We've met before," he assured her. "I'm a friend of the family's and I just-"
"No, no," she muttered. "Get out! Where is my brother?"
She began feebily shouting for Jeff. She waved wrinkled hands at him, as though shooing him was her best defense.
"No, I'm here to help, I'm a Doct-" And then he realized. The wires and monitors and the entirety of the home health system, it was all gone. He'd been so excited to see her again, so selfish to not even notice that her life support was gone.
"I don't need any doctors," she wheezed, her spike of adrenaline fading. "I've got a right to my own choices. And this is mine. My choice."
She said that last bit so stubbornly, he couldn't help but allow the corner of his mouth to lift upwards. He backed out of the room slowly, but he wasn't sure if he needed to. She was already nodding off.
It took longer than expected, he had to admit. He was so unused to death by old age. While he had waited for sleep to settle firmly, he ducked into the Tardis for a heart monitor.
While it beeped steadily, he talked and cradled her hand. He told her everything he could think of, whether he had already told it to her or not. He told her about his childhood, about how he was relatively certain that the Weeping Angels had been permanently defeated, about how he had stolen Rory's ashes out of a vault titled "Angelo: Roy" and buried them under a monument to the Last Centurion- He would rebury them both together, but he wasn't quite sure where yet. She didn't offer any suggestions.
He talked until his mouth ran dry, and past the point where he no longer wished for a glass of water, because he knew time was, at long last, running out for the girl who waited.
The monitor took a nose dive, and he leapt from the his chair.
"Amy!" He shook her violently, and her eyes opened blearily.
"Doctor," she whispered, looking into his eyes. "Doctor." He bit into his lower lip as a tear formed. Memories or not, she was Amy, and he was her raggedy Doctor.
"I need a… doctor-" And then she flat-lined. He sank into his chair, defeated.
She hadn't recognized him, after all. She was simply regretting her choice to let go of life. He wondered if there were other choices she regretted. He was sure of it. And he pulled the sheet up over the face of another life he believed he had ruined.
He cleaned the small house, top to bottom. Threw out most things, took them out to the curb of the sleepy Leadworth street. He saved a few photos of the pair of them, with grainy quality but happily smiling faces. The recently purchased custard went down the garbage disposal.
He was deactivating Jeff, when he paused. He reset the unit's core instructions. He was to live his own life, move away and sell the house. Maybe get a girlfriend, if he could manage it.
At last, he returned to the now-empty back bedroom.. He tucked the sheets in around the cold body, and lifted. She was so light, he thought, but she felt like the heaviest burden he had ever carried. The Tardis doors opened without so much as a snap, which he appreciated. The tears were getting so thick, he could barely see.
He set her down on the bench next to the console, and tried to not look at the woman who had been Amelia Pond and Emilia Angelo and most importantly, his best friend. The Tardis dematerialized slowy, the engines groaning weakly. It was the last time he would steal away the girl who had changed his life, and the last night the girl who waited would spend with the man who had changed hers.