Gaze Across Time
By: InitialA
Disclaimer: I own nothing in either Doctor Who or Sailor Moon.
A familiar, musical mechanical noise sounded through the fog. Sailor Pluto looked away from the storm as the police box doors squeaked open, and an enraged—and heartbroken—Time Lord stormed out. "Doctor."
"Where are they?" He demanded. "Tell me where, tell me when, I can't lock on to them any longer, the TARDIS goes all wibbly and I almost broke 794 BC when I tried to force it."
A black-gowned blonde leaned against the TARDIS door frame, saying nothing. "Doctor Song," Pluto nodded to her; the woman nodded in return. The solitary guardian of Time turned her patient eyes on the Doctor again, just as he opened his mouth to continue a tirade against her. "Doctor, look behind me."
He did, and did a double-take. He cleared his throat, pushed his fringe back, and scratched his jaw, his eyes flitting this way and that as he took the storm in. "That's what happened when…"
"When Rory and Amy jumped off the building and created a paradox, yes."
"It's getting smaller."
"The last soldier, the Angel that took them, that fixed it. It's fading, but it will take time, Doctor."
He turned accusing eyes on her. "Did you send it?"
She lifted her chin slightly in defiance. "The Weeping Angels are under the command of no one, Doctor, you know this. And," she continued, her voice softening, "I would hope you would expect better from an old friend."
His mouth worked for a moment, and finally he just pointed at her tersely, without saying whatever was on his mind. She knew how he must feel, though. Anyone who lived such a lonely life, peppered with brief moments of sunlight brought by companionship, would know his pain. And to be able to do nothing about it? Oh yes, she knew a feeling very like what he must be going through. "I cannot, and will not, allow even you to break such a fixed spot in time, Doctor, even if you did your best to bring them back to the moments of their deaths. We've discussed this before about your granddaughter. It's best to let them live their lives."
"Yes, I know," his voice broke as he said it, and he paced a little, hunched over in his way when he was trying to hide how upset he was.
Pluto considered him for a moment, before taking his arm and leading him away from the fading storm. Their boots crunched over dying rose petals, and they came upon a rather clear area in the otherwise foggy fourth dimension. She waved her staff, and the air rippled, a picture forming in the center. "This is the most I can console you with, Doctor. I'm not bound by the TARDIS, and thus Time Lord law."
It was Amy and Rory. Judging from the furnishings and the clothes they wore, it was the early 1940s, perhaps a few years after they had been sent back. Rory was dressed for war, and they embraced before he left. "Rory served as a field medic in the Pacific Theatre during the war," Pluto explained.
"When were they placed?"
"Amy arrived a few years before Rory; she waited for him. It was quite kind of the Angels, actually, to place them that close together. A mysterious package was delivered to them after he came, with all of their immigration papers made out and legalized, so there was no worry there," she looked over her shoulder to River, who waited still in the TARDIS' doorframe. "He died a few months before she did. Natural, no pain. Amy probably just gave up after he went. Always together, those two."
Scenes flashed through the air, leading up to their final days. The Doctor swiped his hand through the images of elderly Amy and Rory, causing them to fade, and turned away. Pluto watched him. "I know it's hard—"
"You don't," the Doctor's voice was steely. "You have people in and out all the time. Your fellows, your friends, your Queen. All of them were given a second chance. My friends, they won't be given that chance. And I'll never see them again."
"The Queen broke several laws herself in making that second chance happen," she snapped; she hated being rough, but he was in no mood for coddling anymore. "When that's run its course, that's it. It's just me, and the next generation will take over. And when Lady Serenity goes, I will have no one. I have had no one. So don't talk to me like I don't know pain or loneliness. I have seen my own pain and loneliness coming, Doctor. Don't make an enemy of the only person left who can even remotely sympathize with you."
His shoulders stiffened. She knew she'd pierced some of his armor of self-loathing, but she wasn't sure of the outcome. Several tense moments passed, and then he turned. His face was still hard, but he was apologetic all the same. They embraced, and she felt him holding back sobs. She felt her own tears prick for his pain. "They're all right, Doctor. They're safe. And you're safe. You're going to be all right."
"For how much longer?"
"Forever. What will I do without my Doctor to look after?"
"You'd muddle through."
"As will you." She pulled back, and kissed his forehead. "Now, go spend time with your wife. You've got all of time and space to explore; you don't need me to help you convince her to go along for the ride."
He sighed. "She won't stay."
"She's got her own life to live as well, but she can take a vacation. I'm sure of it," Pluto winked conspiratorially.
The Doctor smiled ruefully. He tapped her nose, and sauntered off back to the TARDIS; he was terrible at emotional thanks and good-byes, but she knew that by now. When the blue doors closed, and the TARDIS whirled away, she sighed. He'd have a rough time for a while, but she knew he'd like the next one. That girl was a handful for Pluto to manage, and she'd gladly thrust the responsibility of her onto the Time Lord for a time.
"We muddle through," she murmured to herself, looking again to the fading storm. "Because we can't do much else."