She supposed she could only blame her stubbornness for her life. Her gaze wandered the street before her, seeing nothing. The radio was on, blasting some song through the speakers, him singing along with enthusiasm.
She supposed she could've been more courageous, once upon a time, yet at the same time, she had faced and bettered the most difficult events of her life with clear eyes and only a bleeding heart.
And it hadn't been that bad, her life. Just... less.
She had realized early on that there were fixed points in time, in her destiny. Points she had to comply to, fulfill, or all – or too much – would be lost. And she had done it, done them, time and time again.
The first time was during the dream episode. She still stood by her choice – she couldn't imagine a life without Rory. But she couldn't imagine a life without him either.
But standing there, in Rory's arms, feeling safe and warm, something had clicked and unravelled in her mind.
"There are fixed points in time", he had whispered in her ear and the words had stayed with her, resonating in her mind.
That was the first time she knew what she had to do, needed to, ought to do. Marry Rory, deny anything and everything vigorously, always, to him, and face whatever the fates threw at her with a raised chin and a steely resolution.
And so she had done, to the best of her ability.
There had been moments of weakness, though. Jealousy flashing in her eyes when River came a'bounding. Warmth when he didn't notice the curly haired woman, his mouth going a thousand kilometers a minute, face alight with excitement on this or that.
When she had told him she might be pregnant, swallowing the unfathomable, silent wish, never to be voiced, of the child's paternity – the look in his eyes had nearly been her undoing, but, fixed points. The pressure in the back of her mind kept her silent, her eyes clear.
And then she had been taken. She had called for him then, without regret or repressions, craving for his smile to light the darkness around her, his voice warming her from the inside.
And he had come.
And so had River, and Rory. The moment her legally wedded husband had appeared before her, the dull thudding of fixed points did so, too, dulling her aching heart, hiding her already revealed feelings in the gray haze of reality.
And she didn't dare fight it. She swallowed the sobs in her throat, called her husband stupid-face, and went on.
She even managed to fool him. And she supposed it was good, just so.
She went on in her life. She had her fixed-point baby, lost her, saw him every now and then and loved Rory as the dear, unbelievably good friend and man that he was. She modelled, supported Rory, and when he asked, she sat down with him in the car and drove to Leadworth to see houses.
And then... New York. The beginning of the end, and then, the end.
No more raggedy man, no more blue box. She couldn't live without him, but couldn't live with him, either. She'd grow old, he'd not, and the adventures would stop as her body would slow. Rory was gone, in some other place, unreachable if she let it be so. Oh, how she yearned to let it be so.
But she couldn't. The Doctor, her Doctor, had lived a thousand years, had lost and had found new beings to share his life, even for a flicker of it. He would find someone after her, if she just left now. Staying would be a sweet torture, that would end in more tears than would be good for either of them. She felt the sobs turn uncontrollable in her throat, pressure rising, his voice begging her and she so wanted to give in. Feeling the her heart break, her world crush and shatter and stop from being, she drew in a painful gasp of air, wishing she could hold him even just one more time, and closed her eyes.
The arms that circled her were warm, but wrong, and she stayed on the ground, wailing her pain like a madman, for a long time.
She had always thought to be so clever, thought that she could fool him. But then again, he always pretended not to notice. The mad, impossible girl, always at the corner of his eye, staring at him, unreadable and unblinking. Except that she was like an open book to him, always had been. Even now, after all these years, he still wasn't sure what it had been that had caught his interest and never let him go.
Rose was still clear on his memory the first, second, third time he met her, and for a long time after that. And yet the little red-haired girl had formed an equally strong impression in his mind, establishing her place in his wide mind somewhere along with fish fingers and custard, long before he, unwittingly, stole her away.
He had lived such a long time, experienced so much loss, forbidden himself from intimate and most tender feelings, that her kiss had quite caught him unawares, unsure of what to do. So he had taken the cowards way out, pushing her towards Rory. First, to his relief, and later, to his puzzling annoyment, she had complied.
And then his dream-self had happened.
After that, all he saw was the look in her eyes.
Oh she thought herself clever, never looking at him directly, but only from the corner of her eye, when she thought he was busy. Or when she was hugging Rory, arms around his neck, staring, yearning him from the corner of her eye.
Introduce River.
River who must be, River who had to be, fixed point, no way to avoid collision, River. Her daughter, his future wife.
And the woman did intrigue him, she did, with her sultry smiles, swaying hips, oozing of self-confidence and knowledge of the workings of the universe. If there had to be another almost-time-lord, then she was a fine choice. But for all her intriguing sides, her smile was what she saw, when River smiled, her eyes, her wonderful red hair. Her lips was what he tasted, what he thought of after River's kisses.
It was almost his undoing when she told him she was pregnant and he read her eyes like he read her mind. Feeling fate take charge was seldom pleasant but at that moment, at that look, he could swear both his hearts stopped.
But, fixed points.
He stared at her, dread and finality a cold, clammy lump in his stomach, her eyes burning with unshed tears.
And then she had been taken – and she had called to him.
Even with almost 1000 years lived and countless losses and heartache, it was hard to go back to that moment, even now, years after. Hope, despair, hopelessness, determination and resignation had flitted through him, like a caged hummingbird inside his chest. Rory, the dear, foolish man, glued his unrealistic hallucinations to her voice, resolutely not giving in to the reality he knew in his heart.
And then, New York, and pain as he had only once felt but managed to forget.
He begged, he cried, he promised her the sky and the stars and the universe, to no end. A blink of an eye, and she was gone.
Forever.