A/N: Well, the TARDIS only weirds out if they travel in time into Manhatten so, why not just time outside of the city and then space? And, it's 1970, which is awhile after 1938. So, that might make a small difference. And, I miss the Ponds. Disclaimer: Stop taunting me, I don't own it! I know! DX
Amelia Pond/Willaims was a Scottish woman married to an English man living in 1970s Mahatten. Confusing, yes, but she wouldn't trade it for anything. She clutched said husbands arm tighter as they walked to the park.
Rory Willaims looked down at his wife contentedly. She had strands of gray shot through her once vibrant but now dulled ginger hair. He shouldn't be one to talk though. He had more wrinkles decorating his face than she did and his sandy hair had transformed into a pepper color.
There was a great rock in the park and he helped Amy on top of it. It held old memories of them, well technically, it would hold memories of them in about forty-two years. But, that's beside the point.
Amelia smiled and hefted the picnic basket after her. Rory sat next to her with his feet dangling over the edge and his cane placed beside him. Amy fumbled with her round glasses before she perched them upon her nose. With shaking fingers she withdrew a book from the basket and passed it to Rory who started to read out loud to her.
Amelia sighed and leaned against him. She closed her eyes and she could almost see a young man with floppy hair laughing beside her, a book clasped in his hand. Of course, she blinked and the image was gone.
Rory started coughing and then he wheezed. Amy looked up at him worriedly, but he hadn't been the one to wheeze. In fact, that wheezing grinding noise was still going on, it was permeated with an electrical sort of beeping sound.
Amelia sat straight up and Rory tapped his ear piece. She knew that sound from lifetimes ago and with it came a familiar rush of hope that squeezed at her heart. Rory was finally able to pick up the sound.
"Is that?" Rory breathed.
Amelia squinted, looking for what was making that wonderful noise, that sound that made her breath hitch painfully. And then, there! Right below her was a vibrant blue police box materializing in front of her. She scrambled down the rock, albeit slowly, with Rory following just as clumsy as her. The door creaked open from the opposite ends of the old folks.
An old man stepped out of the blue box. His back was bent and stooped, wrinkles lined his face, and his brown hair was dulled and streaked with gray. The man was grasping an old mahogany cane. He had a maroonish purple coat and burgundy suspenders that were definitely not there for show.
"Where've you taken me this time, old girl?" The man asked patting the box affectionately.
Amelia stepped out with Rory clutching her hand like a lifeline.
"Doctor?" Her old worn voice croaked.
The Doctor spun, for it was the Doctor, and she heard a loud creak. She winced inwardly at the sound.
"P- ponds?"
He stood there white as a sheet as if they were ghosts. Amy suspected it had been a much longer time for him, then for themselves. She took a step forward and the Doctor took a step back, as if afraid that if he touched them that they would dissolve before his eyes like a dream.
"What happened? Doctor? What happened to you?"
The Doctor flashed Rory a questioning look and just like that, it was like old times. Rory gave a nod of assent and Amelia's old bones groaned as she ran headlong into the Doctor's outstretched and waiting arms, that would wait no more.
Rory followed and, in an uncharacteristic show of emotion, wrapped the two in a hug. Eventually they broke away and the Doctor pressed a kiss to Amy's forehead.
"Missed you, Ponds."
Amelai didn't say a word about he shiny track of a tear that had made its way down the Doctor's wrinkled cheek.
To any outsiders they looked like a long lost family that had finally come home and, in a way, they were.
