Because I loved the character of Brian Williams, and strongly felt that this needed to be resolved.
I do not own Doctor Who.
…
In the end, they had decided it would be best if she were the one to do it. He dropped her off at the unremarkable street, right in front of the unremarkable house. Unremarkable except for the brilliant blue door. She knew he had chosen that door on purpose. She knew that he had hoped, when they travelled in and out of that house every day, that they would look at that door and remember him.
But now they would never see that door again.
She rang the bell, and not a moment later was met with a beaming face. It nearly broke her heart.
"Hello, River! How are you? Are Amy and Rory with you?" he craned his neck over her shoulder, looking around in all directions.
"No, Grandfather, they're not. There's something I need to speak to you about…"
His face fell for a fraction of a second, but he quickly regained the wide smile, "Of course, dear, come on in. I've been watching over the place, house sitting, you know. Watering the plants and feeding the fish and all that. Come on, sit!" he patted a spot on the couch, "Oh, I nearly forgot, would you like some tea? I'm pretty sure your parents have got something in the kitchen…"
"No, that's all right." She sunk down onto the couch and sighed. He sat next to her, and his face grew concerned.
"River, what's wrong?"
And she began to tell him.
….
Brian Williams knew something was wrong as soon as River Song appeared on his doorstep. He could see it in her eyes. Her face spoke of being calm and collected, but her eyes were so, so sad.
Even still, he kept up his cheery façade: invited her in, and offered her tea. But he knew that in the end she had come to tell him something terrible. And so he got right to it.
"River, what's wrong?"
She turned in his direction but couldn't quite meet his eyes, and she began to tell him a story. A fantastic and horrible story. A story about New York City, and detectives, and statues that moved when you weren't looking. A story about loss. A story about love. And the further and further she got in this story, the further and further she seemed to unravel, and by the end of it she was openly crying.
Brian had seen River grow up alongside his son, but he had only just started to get to know her. His granddaughter. He'd never had the chance to spoil her with gifts, or tell her embarrassing stories about her parents. He'd never had the chance to have her come visit him on the weekends, or teach her how to play golf. He'd never had the chance to hold her in his arms.
But all of that didn't matter. Because she was here now, and she was sobbing, and they were both so old, but that didn't stop him from cradling her in his lap and rocking her back and forth. And she soon soaked his jumper with her tears, and he knew that he was supposed to be strong for her but he couldn't help it when he started to cry too.
And they sat there, together, the woman who'd just lost her parents and the man who'd just lost his children.
