SKIP THE RAMBLING IF YOU WANT

So . . . As everyone knows I'm not in the habit of finishing anything at all – it's depressing. I just stop caring about the plots at some point. So, if you're looking for an overarching plot or a full story, don't put anything into this story (if you can call it that).

Anyways, I was rewatching AGMGTW and LKH with my parents and felt the urge to read/write Pond family fics. Since I have no clue where I'm going it'll probably be a collection of one-shots with some multiparters.

Under Hurt and Comfort because it's River and her whole life is hurt/notmuchcomfort but it needs a bit more comfort.

STOP SKIPPING

Below is an extremely stereotypical examination of how they felt after ATM, if you have read too many to be interested please skip to Chapter Two and give this story a chance!

Chapter One: The Aftermath

~After Angels Take Manhattan~

Rory was staring at the ground, trying not to scream in frustration. An angel had zapped him back in time again! At first it hadn't caused him that much concern, the Doctor had been able to find him the first time so he was sure his family would come looking for him as soon as they could but as time went on he started to think about the gravestone. Rory Arthur Williams – his name, etched in stone. Rory didn't know that much about the rules of time travel but the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that knowing the future made it permanent. He pushed the doubt to the side of his mind – surely Amy wouldn't let the Doctor give up, she'd try her hardest to find him. And River – Melody, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time – she would find him. She always had. Rory ignored the little part of him that was saying no she won't, she knows you and Amy don't care for her as a daughter anymore. He sighed, it was true. He'd been far too rough on her – particularly today. He hadn't acted remotely happy to see her when she'd raised her head in 1930's Central Park. A sob broke through Rory's thoughts and he spun around to face where his gravestone had been.

Amy was standing, half bent over, her makeup smeared and her red hair whirled in a tangle around her face. She turned quickly, a desperate look in her red eyes;

"Rory!"

She rushed into his arms, nearly knocking him over. Rory held on to her tightly, burying his face in her hair; his tears soaking her shoulder. Her demeanor had convinced him – they weren't ever leaving. His heart contracted at the thought of what that meant. They'd never see his father or her parents again. Brian would be watering the plants for who knew how long before the Doctor went and told him what happened – if ever. They hadn't – he hadn't – said goodbye to anyone. He hadn't said goodbye to anyone. Rory gripped Amy tighter at the idea. He'd never said goodbye to his daughter or the Doctor – his son-in-law. And he'd never see them again. He'd never be there to patch up another cut or sew a wound as he had so many times when the two of them had stumbled through the doors of his home – or the TARDIS – at the wee hours of the morning.

Amy pulled away and hit him lightly on the shoulder, "Oh, Rory."

Rory looked at her and smiled slightly through his tears, "They're –"

Amy shook her head, "They can't, Rory. The Doctor said it would rip New York apart . . ." Her eyes gained a far off look, she could remember the heartbreak in his voice as he asked – begged – her to come back into the TARDIS. And River had been so strong – even encouraging her. Why had she . . .? Because she knew, Amy realized, she knew – or she believed that her mother and father needed to be together. And Amy knew she'd always treasure their last moment of contact.

She looked into her husband's old eyes and saw the regret there, the sadness. He would never get a last moment with anyone – whether it be with the Doctor or their daughter. He had hardly been with them tonight, he'd lost so many moments with them and she could see he knew that. Amy shoved her pity deep inside and flashed him a smile.

"So! 1939 New York, well our lives are never going to be dull!" Amy grabbed his hand and the two of them raced out of the graveyard, away from the ghosts of the future that were crying there.

. . . . . . .

River took the Doctor's hand and pulled him back into the TARDIS before slamming the door shut. The angel outside made a terrible scratching sound as it raked it's nails down the door but River rushed to the console, flying the TARDIS away from the graveyard. The Doctor stumbled to the steps, as if every movement caused him unbearable agony. He looked like an old man again; his eyes lined with loss. River bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying herself – crying had never helped anyone, not her, not her mother, not her father. She mentally activated a part of her mind she normally kept silent in the hope it would go away. She hated what Kovarian had psychologically done to her but she used it now, to keep herself strong for the Doctor. He didn't need a wife who was weepy and the daughter of his two best friends – his family. He needed the wife who was rock, who wouldn't be crushed by any burden.

"River, they were you parents. I'm sorry, I didn't even think" He was looking at her, his voice raw with sadness but the apology wasn't sincere. He couldn't see past his own pain and she didn't blame him. His connection with her parents was probably stronger than hers anyways.

"It doesn't matter." Her voice was detached – too detached, she thought – and she typed a location into the TARDIS.

"Of course it matters." He saw her sadness this time and it hurt him as deep as his own. River turned to him and saw that he had seen.

She did her best to deflect it, to go on like it didn't matter, "What matters is this. Don't travel alone, Doctor."

"Travel with me, then."

River looked to him and smiled but he knew the answer. The Doctor had known the answer from the moment he'd asked her to travel with him. It would never work – and they both knew it. Their timeline were scrambled beyond repair and her staying – as a true companion could destroy their future.

River knew her answer; she'd thought it up when she had dreamed as a college student about being asked to travel with the man she loved, "Wherever and whenever you want." But not now, it was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that she couldn't be there. She was a living reminder of the Ponds – in his mind at least, River thought bitterly. "But not all the time, one psychopath per TARDIS, don't you think?"

Both of them inwardly winced at the word 'psychopath' and River pulled down the final lever. She took a shaky breath and looked up to the ceiling of the TARDIS, bracing herself to leave – to truly give up on seeing her parents ever again. "This book I have to write, Melody Malone. I presume I send it to Amy to get it published." At least there was that – maybe they could write? River mentally hit herself, of course not – they probably wouldn't even want to. They'd made it explicitly clear that Demon's Run is where everything in their lives started to go wrong.

"Yes . . . yes." The Doctor held his hands up. What sort of husband was he? River was burying her emotions from him and there was nothing he was willing to do to help her out. Not that she'd let him help her . . . Her childhood had been stolen but her ability to trust had been as well.

She past him, "I'll tell her to write an afterward . . . for you."

River darted into the first room she saw and slumped against a wall, they were truly gone. And now she had to write it all down – she had to cause it to happen all over again. The TARDIS creaked as the Doctor raced out the doors – probably in search of that last page. The last page to that cursed book. But this gave her time, time to change and leave as quickly as possible.

River rushed into a shower, throwing the dress on the ground. She'd like it well enough but now she hated it, sorrow clung to it like a leech – how fitting it was black. She flipped the nozzles, burning water rushed down her body – too hot for comfort. River scrubbed every inch of her body until it was bright red. Tears meshed with the water – this was her fault. She'd let – encouraged – her mother to leave, to break her own heart – and the Doctor's hearts. Pushing the thought away she stepped out of the shower, drying her hair hurriedly. Wrapping a towel around herself she stepped out into what once had been the hallway.

There were two doors, one lead to the Doctor's room (or hers, since he only seemed to sleep with her around) and the other was her parent's. She didn't think but raced into the Doctor's, unable to enter Amy and Rory's room.

She looked through the wardrobe, bypassing all the fancy dresses the Doctor had picked out for her. She settled for a pair of her own jeans and a tank. Looking through the closet she saw an extra tweed jacket and smiled at it for a moment before pulling it on over the top.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror she nearly laughed. She looked like a mental patient with her half-dried hair spilling messily around her head and the tweed jacket simply added to the effect. But she didn't take it off, she needed the comfort and she knew the Doctor wouldn't mind. In fact, it might make his day to see her like this, he did love the tweed.

Flashes of the day went through her mind and she bit her lip before running out of the room, past the console, and out the door.

The first thing she saw was Amy and Rory's house. The first thing she heard was the TARDIS dematerializing behind her.

Well that was melancholy – the real fic starts on the next chapter (which is why I'm posting it with this one.)

Reviews are much appreciated!