If our hearts are never broken
Well there's no joy in the mending
There's so much this hurt can teach us both
Though there's distance and there's silence
Your words have never left me
Mending. Three years had passed since he'd last seen her. For him, that was three years of planets and continuous systems of life and death. For her, it was probably bills and shopping. He didn't even know how much time had passed in her life. The Doctor wondered, as he pounded a button a little too hard, if she was happy.
Of course she was happy. He was selfish to think she'd pine for him for long. He might be strange and magical to humans, but they must leave and move on. Amy was strong and buried so deep in the life she never thought she'd end up in. And that life wasn't life in the TARDIS. Strangely enough, she'd always dreamed of her travels with the Doctor, and she had confided that normal life felt odd, alien almost.
When he met up with her, after those three long years, he found that it had been just the same amount of time for Amy. She and Rory kept a nice house, with colorful tulips out front and simple furnishings inside. He was happy to see the TARDIS-blue front door, and a little golden plate emblazoned with taut letters that spelled out Williams across the shining surface. He smiled at it on his way out, after a few hours of drinks and conversation with the friends he'd spent far too little time with for his liking. Staring up at the windows, he silently wished them good luck.
Just as Amy found it hard to go back to a normal life, the Doctor found it hard to let go.
Distance. He had spent some time alone, just the Doctor and his TARDIS, drifting through space and time with no destination in mind. No companion; he hadn't felt like befriending anyone in a while. Especially another young soul whose life he would ruin in a matter of months inside the intriguingly dangerous solar system. One day, he got too wrapped up in his own thoughts and the barren metal surrounding him closed in. He programmed familiar coordinates and set off to Amy and Rory's.
The TARDIS landed a block away from that boldly colored door and the feisty tulips. The Doctor placed a hand on the door, ready to push it open and stride out, with an air of confidence he didn't have, not really.
When he finally stood outside in the cool springtime breeze, he noticed a couple with a child walking happily down the pavement. The little girl bounced along happily, and her father was holding onto her hand, a bit too tightly. It had really been a long time.
Too long? No, the Doctor thought. Their journey had ended long ago, and the damage he expected turned out alright in the end. Even if not at the speed of light, people moved on. Adventure came and went, as did family and friends. They clung dearly to what they had, and perhaps he inspired that in them.
In the end, he decided not to approach Amy and Rory. It was for the best. He took one last glance at the three of them before stepping back behind his own blue doors.
The TARDIS felt less empty then, filled instead with possibility that the Doctor knew was out there.
Silence. He appreciated the silence, and the distant hum of his TARDIS. If there was one thing he learned from his companions, it was that things would always work out.
Based loosely off of New York by Snow Patrol. Hope you liked it :)