AN: The ponds have landed in 1950's NYC. I know that this is not what is canon but it ties in with the story and doesn't make much difference to how to interact with the past. This is my first fanfic so read, review and (hopefully) enjoy!
She landed.
The sobs racked her entire body, her heart nearly bursting through her rib cage. Her little girl and her raggedy man had been left behind, she could never get them back. The tears nearly blinding her, she dashes forward, pushing people out the way, screaming his name, not noticing the looks; the children being pulled closer to her mothers, reprimands from old woman. Amy did not care, she couldn't when the one person worth giving all that up for was in this city somewhere, she was sure of it. Her husband. Rory.
"Rory!" she screamed, hysteria taking over, the angels may not have sent them to the same city, the same country or even the same point in time. Amy realised this and broke down. The sobs began to overwhelm her and she fell to the cold ground. The life that she had known, made so many terrible sacrifices for, was all gone. Amy could cope with that she thought, she could cope with never seeing her best friend again, if only she had her soul mate. Rory had waited two thousands years for her, she had fought aliens and sacrificed herself for him, there was no way their story was over.
Wiping away her tears, and patting herself down, she stood up straight ready to take on the world, panicking would not find Rory, nor would shameless breakdowns in the middle of a park. Breathing in, she began to look for signs, landmarks, an anchor to hold her down. Searching the sky her eyes fall on Bethesda Fountain. 'Central Park' she thought to herself, spotting a bin, she ran over and stuck her hand inside desperately searching for newspaper, she knew the where, she just had to find out the when. When, never would that be a question again, she wiped her tears away at the thought, not allowing them to pull her under again. The dirty newspaper she found lying on top of the rubbish held the answer, wiping off the remnants of someone's lunch she read the date 'November 27th 1956.'
The odds on finding Rory were low, the largest city in the country during the fifties. Amy reasoned with herself, 'I did not say goodbye to my child and my best friend to get here and not find him'. Wrapping her coat tighter around her, wishing she had worn a jacket with sleeves, she pushed her hands further into her pockets and walked towards Central Park West. Thankfully her trips to New York with The Doctor as well as a fascination from childhood meant she knew how to get to Central Park West, where she would go from there however she did not know.
The city wasn't as she expected, it was dirty, cold and the people were poor. The glamour of modern day New York was missing and the depravity of the conditions of humanity was clear. Her stomach growled and she realised she hadn't had a thing to eat since The Doctor picked her up for their last adventure, a picnic in the park, that had been at least 24 hours ago. Rory would never be found if she didn't get food or water, she must find a way to feed herself and find shelter before the city got dark, she stops and asks a man in a suit the time, he hurriedly checks his watch and he rushes off after spitting the time of 4.15 at her. Moving ever forwards in the rush of people not knowing where to go once she reaches Central Park West, she thinks of Rory, the ring on her hand sits cold against her skin, a constant reminder that he isn't with her. The cold gold necklace was frozen against her skin too, the winter air not helping, when she realised, she knew how to make money and she knew how to fix this. Her heart felt heavy but the ring was a symbol for them, and what use was a symbol if she couldn't get the real thing back.
"Excuse me… I'm hoping you could… direct me towards the nearest pawnbrokers?" Amy nervously asked a portly man, his bespectacled face looked kind and because she was not feeling her usual self, she hoped desperately for someone more friendly than the last person she spoke to.
"Why of course mam' and what a pretty accent, there's about 20 of them in the next few blocks alone, I think there is one on West 83rd Street 'Blaumans' I think it's called." The man tips his hat and marches away, hurrying to get out of the cold, his dark figure already lost in the crowd as Amy yells a unheard cry of thanks.
Passing beautiful town houses and redbrick apartments, Amy makes her way up West 83rd Street, the city seems magical once more, so many people, living in such a small place, the attraction of New York. Allowing herself to dream she thinks 'Maybe Rory and I will be happy here one day' but quickly pushes the thought out of her mind, she needs to carry on. Finally she arrives, the tacky sign in the dirty window displaying 'Blaumans Family Pawn Shop" pushing through the heavy metal door she prepares to give away her last connection to Rory.
The queue was only four people, but each were giving away family heirlooms, visibly struggling with passing them on. It was like a seedy Aladdin's cave, rings, watches and trinkets gleamed up from the glass cabinets she leaned on, guitars and accordions hung from the ceiling above. The place was filled with memories of the poor and she couldn't help but imagine the guitars once being played for the love music, now falling silent, all so a family could eat for only a few nights.
"Mam'" the rude voice broke her out of her daydream and brought her back into the now empty, dusty shop, the other customers had gone. He continues to try to engage her in conversation as he looks her up and down. She can see him licking his lips, his filthy mind written onto his face and she would like nothing more than to slap him and walk out but he is a horrible and necessary means to an unavoidable end, pulling the ring off her finger she places it in his hand quickly, trying to avoid skin to skin contact with the fowl man. Amy knew that sentiment would not help her, and as Rory had once said, 'She was so 'Scottish'.', so forcing down her emotions in front of this stranger was not difficult. She looked on with disgust as his short stubby fingers pawed over her ring, how his dirty fingernails scraped along its side. It took her all her self control not to snatch her ring back and walk out. After seeing the quality of her jewellery the man was impressed giving her a healthy sum of money, handing it over in a brown envelope he said in a thick New York drawl, corners of his mouth turning up in a horrific toothy grin;
"Ya got one month to get the money, plus $150 or a' sell it on" It was the eyes Amy didn't trust, that and the lingering hand on hers. Pulling her hand away, she emptied the bag onto the glass counter top. The man's eyes went wide, and he swallowed extra unnecessary air, as Amy proceeded to count the money. $200 short. His hand reached under the counter and he tried to pull out a gun, but Amy was faster and had her hands around his neck before he could reach it. Gasping for air, he tried to fight her off, but Amy was not in the mood to be messed with today.
"Put $400 in the fucking bag or I will end you." The man could see Amy was a woman of her word, and Amy knew that all her anger at the world was directed into the hand around the man's throat. One of her hands reaches across the counter, and she grabs the gun, releasing his neck as she does. The man's hand shoots up, rubbing his already bruising neck, tears are in his eyes and Amy has to fight the urge to laugh at the 250lb man crying with pain, fear and humiliation. Shaking, he hands over $400, with a quick bow of the head and a faux thank you she makes her way out of the shop, holding the door for a tall man in a suit and she laughs to herself at the scene he is about to walk in to.
Money in her pocket and hope in her heart she eventually finds herself in a small cafe. Weaving in between the tables she sits in an old booth in the corner, wood, leather and no direct bulb above making it peaceful enough to think her situation through. Amy begins to feel guilty. She had snapped. She had threatened to kill a man, and at that point possibly could have followed through on her threat. The last time she lost her daughter, she killed a woman; an evil woman but Amy had felt it was wrong even then and now, the second time she loses her baby, she nearly kills an almost innocent man. She had to find Rory, he was a calming influence. Interrupted from her thoughts by a waitress, asking for an order, she suddenly remembers how hungry she is and places an order for fries - she must remember this is America, not Britain - and devours her plate as soon as it arrives. Ordering one more milkshake so she can use the heat of the diner a little longer she begins to practically think through the situation she is in one more time. Amy knows she has landed in New York with no money or passports but she did land in New York with a knowledge of the years to come. Thinking about what she knew for sure, about the future she thought back to the conversation she had with a man named Canton Everett Delaware III. She had been confused at the time about why he had been kicked out of the FBI, he was clearly a good agent, and he was telling her all about his fiancé, black and male was all Canton had said at first with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Then he spoke of him the way she spoke of Rory, with immense love. Canton had then went on to repeat many times that he and Ray had lived together, with friends, at an apartment on West 77th Street. Apartment 271b.
Amy remembered how he kept mentioning it to her and now she knew why - she must have told him to, armed with cash, the memory of an address and nothing else she walked towards West 77th Street.
Towards Canton and Ray, towards her future and towards Rory.