Go to her...
Amy's last words to him rang throughout his mind in that beautiful Scottish accent of hers and he closed his eyes to the sounds of the TARDIS's engines, whirring and clanking while he flew through time and space. The parking breaks went on and a voice broke through his grief as a hand rested on his shoulder.
"This is my stop, sweetie," she said gently. Too gently. River was never this careful with him. The Doctor stood up from his place on the steps of the console room, becoming a head taller than his wife once more.
"Don't go, River," he begged softly. He hadn't meant for it to come out so pathetically, but he could barely contain a sob as he pleaded with her.
"But I must," she replied wisely, and the Doctor hated her for it. How could she be so calm—so beautifully calm—after her parents were brutally fed on by the Weeping Angels? How could she control her pain?
River reached up and put a hand on his cheek, wiping a tear away with her thumb.
"Don't cry, my love," she said. "You couldn't have stopped the good-bye; it was their time. There's no need to blame yourself. And it's so hard for me to see you broken."
He swallowed. "Travel with me," he said again in one final attempt to keep her with him.
She smiled sadly at his desperation to not be alone. "You know I can't do that." She was right.
It was silent for a moment as they looked into each other's faces, experiencing the same pain and loss—both bathing in the other's teary eyes.
"How do you do it?"
"Do what, sweetie?"
"Be so completely mine and yet always just out of my grasp?"
River laughed softly and stood on her toes to gently kiss a tear trail on his cheek where another tear had run down his face. "That's a secret for another day."
With that, she turned around and swept out of the TARDIS, leaving the Doctor entirely alone. The door closed with a slight creak and a click of the lock.
He stared at the door for a moment and then tore his gaze from it, jumping into action to stop himself from thinking. He turned knobs, pulled levers, and flipped switches all around the control panel in a frenzy as his mind blocked out everything related to the Pond family.
He found this impossible.
The Doctor had spent the past four hundred some years of his life picking up the Ponds and having adventures across the entire realm of space. He couldn't be expected to forget them for even a moment.
Go to her...
Another tear slipped from his eye.
Fine.
He moved around the panel of keys and changed the coordinates of his landing to the night he left Amy for the first time. When she thought he'd be back in five minutes.
"Here I come, my dear Amelia Pond," he whispered to the empty console room. "Here I come."
.
She was asleep when he found her, curled up in a ball on top of her suitcase, the tip of her nose red from the chill of the night air. It was his little Amelia Pond. The one who had fed him fish fingers and custard. The one who had no idea of anything that was about to happen to her next. The picture of innocence.
The Doctor went to her. He picked her up and carried her suitcase, bringing both things inside to Amy's room within the house. He tucked her into bed and held onto her hand as he told her sleeping form their story.
"Little Pond," he said as he allowed the tears to fall freely now. "Brave Amelia. You beautiful, amazing girl."
She stirred and the Doctor froze suddenly. What would he do should she wake? The idea of taking her again—starting over entirely—was almost too enticing. But he wouldn't. He knew he couldn't.
Amy fell into a deeper sleep and he continued.
"You and I shared entire lives. This regeneration was completely yours and your life was, in a way, completely mine. I know that was horribly selfish of me, but I only regret the end. I only regret that I couldn't save you or Rory. And I am so, so sorry for that, my Pond.
"You grow up to be such a strong girl—however," he added with a small laugh, "your eyes will need a bit of fixing." He opened his tweed jacket and pulled out Amy's glasses that were hanging from the pocket he kept the Sonic in. He played with them absently as he went on.
"Really, Amelia. You were with me longest and had the most time to carve yourself onto my soul. I think I may even hate you for that. But what's a lot of love without a little pain, eh?
"You and Rory and River made me a better man. I learned patience and found that at times I can be slightly unreasonable." Little Pond shifted in her bed, almost in disagreement. "Oh, fine," he whispered to her. "Very unreasonable. You're always right."
"You were lovely. No matter what you did, you did it wonderfully. I'll miss you very much, you know. When you see me next, a while will have passed for you. Don't be too upset. I hope that everything I show you—the future you'll have with me—will make up for it.
"And let's not forget Rory. You two taught me just how strong human love can be, and I thank you for it. You were the perfect team. Lovely Rory and magnificent Pond. The ones who shared time with the Doctor. I'll never forget it. And I hope you never will either."
His little Amy yawned in her sleep and the Doctor let go of her small hand. For a short time, he watched her breathe softly. Every moment that passed was twisting the knife in his hearts, though, and soon he couldn't take anymore.
"I love you, Amelia," he said with finality. "You and your world were enchanting, and I was so lucky to have crashed my box in your backyard. Sweet dreams, Pond."
The Doctor stood and left her room, taking one last look at her as he turned off the light and walked out—out of her room, out of her house, out of her life. Outside, his TARDIS was waiting for him like always, his faithful TARDIS that was his only true constant.
He unpocketed his key to his spaceship and unlocked the door solemnly, sending a glance at Amy's window. The soft glow of the Christmas lights strung around her bed warmed his hearts as he stepped into the TARDIS and closed the door behind him.
"Well, my beautiful forever," the Doctor said, addressing Idris, the soul of his ship, "where should we go next? All of time and space is at our fingertips, waiting to be seen. Where should we start?"
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