"So what happens now?"
Ah, the question. Every adventure, every time-traipsing incident, every accident averted, they look at him so earnestly and ask. Humans—from the moment they landed, they invested themselves in the outcome and expected him to tell him it all worked out well in the end. His might be the telepathic race, but theirs was the empathetic: even a thirty second commercial could tug at their heartstrings. His companions were always the best of their race, but they saw him as part storyteller, part white knight. There were times he subsided only on the faith they put in him, their expectations, and chose accordingly. There were also times that he had no idea how to shoulder the burden their hero worship placed on him, given everything he'd done. He'd built himself up, particularly for Amy Pond, as the man who fixed things, fixed everything. After all, if he couldn't. . . what was the 'point' of him?
His silence was dragging on too long. Sitting on the stairs, Amy glanced up at her husband, leaning against the railing next to her, and even looking at her askance through the glare on the goggles, he could see the concern in her eyes. Tucking the sonic screwdriver away, he pushed the goggles up to his forehead, and ran the flat of his palm down his chin. "Life goes on."
"Yeah, but what happens to them. You told us that the Romans were the new human empire, that they're why we end up all across space, yeah? Does this change that? Did we win?"
"Win?" His movement set the hammock seat to swinging as he turned to look at her, watching her as she was watching him. "Does anyone really win a war? You survive them. The human race lives on, the Sontarans will clone another batch and set back to the stars to keep fighting. The Caesar will live to an old age, though I'm not certain that's a win for humanity." His answers were concerning her, he could tell. Mentally shaking himself, he swung his seat to reach a cable, screwdriver whirring again, back to high animation with the toes of his boots skimming the floor.
"Cheer up, Ponds! We averted the destruction of the human race again, you like when we do that. The Romans will do as Romans do, no offense to Roranicus, and conquer and spread and make excellent roads (so to speak) across the universe. Eventually, the republic will dissolve, that's the trouble with them and their expansionism, but technology will leap forward rapidly until then, and let's not even discuss the population boom! You humans, marrying and breeding and carrying on. He's not the worst leader you've thrived under, and if it makes you feel any better it's Scotland that breaks first. I told you—never conquered, they just went along for a bit in exchange for a larger role in the republic. Transportation! When they decided they needed a starship, they got it on the cheap and had everything they needed squirreled away already."
Amy's grin was a balm to something he hadn't even known was bothering him, as if in cheering her up he had righted something within himself as well. Pushing himself out of the seat, he made his way to the stairs to chuck her under the chin lightly, nearly bent double to look her in the eyes. "Life goes on, Pond. And it should for you, too."
Glancing up without moving away from Amy, he met Rory's eyes and saw understanding flit across them. For Amelia, the TARDIS had hijacked her life from the moment he'd crashed in her garden. For Rory Williams, Amelia Pond had been the center of his from the moment she'd moved into his little English village. And Amy. . . he'd met his match in running away in little Amelia Pond, who never saw a reason to grow up. She'd postpone marriage, a proper marriage, for as long as she could—it could be the day after their wedding for forever, just as it had been the night before her wedding. In thirty years, he'd have to punt her out of the door back to Leadworth, and the world would wonder just what happened on their honeymoon to age them so dramatically.
There was never a forever. But the Ponds had the closest shot at it he'd ever seen in a human couple.
The conversation went as he expected it would, all three of them pulling up a stair, her leaned back against Rory's knee, her shoulder to the Doctor's as he sat beside her. Amy protested, as he knew she would, not because she failed to see the sense in what they were saying but because she believed that she'd be forever waiting if he left. And, in truth. . . she would. Some part of Amy Pond was still little Amelia, sitting in the garden waiting for her Raggedy Doctor. Rory made his wishes clear in a quiet way, without pushing, stoic and ready to soldier on and wait for Amelia to make her way to him. Anything more and she would have resented his interference. Anything less, and he wouldn't have been Rory.
It fell to the Doctor to convince her. The importance of family... he tried not to let the irony sting.
Upper Leadworth was, unsurprisingly, quiet as a stone when they landed. Amy's hug, folded in the Doctor's arms, was long enough to elicit a cleared throat from her husband. To even matters out, Rory received just as long of a hug, sending Amy into hiccoughing laughter as he tried to figure out how to take that, patting the Doctor on the back awkwardly.
"But this isn't goodbye, is it? Promise. Promise me I'm going to hear from you again, Doctor, or I swear to you I'll chain myself to the TARDIS."
"No handcuffs required, Pond, I promise I'll be in touch! This time, though, don't put things on hold for me-that's missing the point, completely. Live! Settle in. Go out on the town. . . . well, not this town, find a real town for that. . . oh, you know what I mean. Go on, Ponds. Your future awaits." His shooing motion at both of them failed as both dragged their feet, but it was Rory that got the next words in-it seemed something they'd both decided to ask, determined who would ask.
"Is she going to be okay, Doctor? Jenny, I mean. I thought she'd see us off." A soldier he might have been, a Centurion, but Rory was a nurse first and foremost. A caregiver. The trouble was, what ailed the young Time Lady was beyond his ability and outside of his area of study. There was that empathetic strain again. She'd been aboard the TARDIS mere hours before they fell into trouble, but they still cared. He could have hugged them both all over again. He settled for wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders, walking them farther away from the TARDIS.
"We'll go travelling a bit, see if we can't stay out of trouble. It's like she said: Jenny is mostly me. I'll give her a bit of time, she needs it. She'll probably ring you up sometime when she's got things sorted, and in the meantime she'll have me. And youtwo have each other, so go on then." Flicking the tassled end of Amy's scarf, he pushed them the last few steps toward the front door of their flat, spinning full circle toward the TARDIS again, then back, pointing at both of them in turn. "Take care of each other. I'll see you around, Ponds."
When he had the TARDIS doors solidly between him and the Ponds, he paused to rest his forehead against it quietly, eyes closed, letting the cheerful demeanor drain away. It was there that he heard the last of the conversation as they waited on the stoop for the TARDIS dematerialization. "You know, I think I'm going to take Jenny's example. There's got to be history books, websites, newspapers and the like. . . Let's look him up."
Trust Amy Pond to find a new way to wait, and sound excited about it.
Shaking his head, the Doctor found the walk to the controls laborious, the uphill climb of the ramp more an exertion than he was accustomed to from his usual floor-eating, bounding stride. Tugging down the lever to start the dematerialization, flinging the TARDIS back into the vortex, he watched the time rotor rise and fall, silent for a moment, before turning to the corridor.
The trouble with his daughter being cut from the same cloth was that he not only knew how she felt, having experienced the same. . . he knew how he dealt with it.
He knew where to find her without asking the TARDIS. Leaning his shoulder against the doorway, arms crossed, one foot resting against the doorjamb, he watched the flurry of frantic energy and blonde hair. He assumed the rucksack was a gift from the TARDIS, considering how much seemed to fit in it without overflowing. He was right about the colors of the shirts, too. Maroon. Navy blue. Drab olive green. It was fitting, he supposed-if there was one regeneration that knew about shouldering the pain of a war singlehandedly it was big-ears, and the TARDIS was perceptive enough to recognize the parallel and outfit accordingly, with modifications for gender.
He'd told the Ponds they'd be travelling together. He'd told them that Jenny'd have the Doctor to see her through. In short, he'd told them a clever lie to get them on with their lives, for their own good. Because in the end it wasn't his choice but hers that mattered.
"There you are! Hope you don't mind, figured none of this would fit you anyway. Can I borrow a few books, too? Your library's amazing, found it on my way back here." Her grin was picture perfect, eyes bright, expression animated. And it wasn't feigned, not entirely. He knew. Just as he knew what this was.
After all, he'd perfected adventuring as a coping method. A daft old man who'd stolen a magic box and run away, who kept running, who never slowed down for fear of having to look at what he'd done. And now his daughter had joined him, inherited that defining characteristic, that fundamental character flaw. They'd had, all told, less than 48 hours in each other's company in her entire short life, and each time she'd come out the worse for it.
She wouldn't blame him. He could blame himself quite well, though. Blame himself for knowing she blamed herself.
Stepping over the strut at the doorway, the Doctor joined his daughter in the wardrobe room, reaching into his inside pocket to fish out his sonic screwdriver from the tweed jacket. Holding his other hand out, palm flat, he gestured at her wrist. "C'mon then. Let me see your watch. Can't have you running off without being able to ring home."
She was watching him perceptively, despite her outward demeanor. Resting her hand on his palm, she gave his hand a squeeze as he whirred the screwdriver over the watch on her wrist. "Stop that. No, no. Not that, keep doing that, I don't mind a good backup plan. Stop. . . " she pressed a fingertip steadily to the middle of his forehead, setting him rocking back, then forward again as she dropped her hand again. "That."
He had the childish urge to say 'you first,' but knew the argument would get him nowhere. Shaking his head slightly, instead he turned her hand over in his palm, and pressed the sonic screwdriver into her grip until her fingers wrapped around it, her eyes questioning. "Take it. I'll have the TARDIS make me another one. Too much to hope you're going to change your mind? We never did get to finish those tests, don't know if you're going to regenerate."
"Well, then, I'll just have to assume I only have the one life and get to it, won't I?" The cheeky grin and inadvertent echoing of his message to the Ponds finally succeeded in making him laugh at the intrinsic irony of the entire situation. Folding her into a hug, he rested his chin atop her head, keeping her there as if he could protect her.
"I don't want protection. And you have nothing to blame yourself for." Telepathic race. He'd had too many years alone in his head, he needed to work on leashing his thoughts again. "I spent a day in your life, Dad, and was ready to kill to end a conflict. I did kill. And don't tell me again about how the Cordolane signal was your work, we both know you didn't pull the trigger on it, and they had to twist it to make it kill. It's not the knowing that's wrong, it's in the doing. And I'm getting the feeling I'm always going to know." Pulling away, her lips quirked into a more natural smile. "I'm clever, me. Good genes. C'mon, then, let's go. I'll let you pick where you're dropping me, make a go of it."
"Allons-y." His ironic agreement as he was tugged along by the arm towards the control room garnered him a measuring look, as if she were weighing the merits of the catchphrase. The word felt strange on his tongue-this mouth wasn't made for it. This was a mouth made for an entirely different sort of exclamation, for strong emphasis, for dramatic pops of energy.
"Allons-y." For a moment, a completely insignificant moment, he felt as if the world was waiting on something. As if one tiny insignificant phrase could tip a scale. And then she grinned, laughing at him. "No."
You can't extrapolate a relationship from a biological accident, he'd said. Genetically, she was 96.25% identical to him, closer to him biologically than the human-timelord metacrisis that shared his old face and was living out a life he could have had. And yet, she wasn't him. She'd said it herself, though at the time he hadn't listened: Body. Mind. Independent thought. And 3.75% completely unique material, a minor miracle, the little bit of chaos the universe tossed into the mix.
The universe wasn't ready for this girl, yet. But as he looked at her, even knowing the conflict in her mind, he knew she was ready for the universe. He'd looked for a Time Lord to share this all with for centuries: but now he knew. . . there was something to be said for watching her run.
He outpaced her for the last stretch of the corridors, lacing his fingers in hers to drag her along and remind her that her father could run with the best of them. Pointing her at the controls he spun a dial randomly, meeting her grin with his own across the console, and threw the lever.
"Geronimo!"
Author's Note: First, I want to thank ALL of you that've read this far. For all your alerts, your astute corrections (Anti-Clockwise! Who knew? Not this Texan.) and your suggestions and contributions and comments. You've made writing this a real joy. Wrapping it this way was something I weighed-having Jenny travel with the Doctor longer or wrapping it up neatly. . . in the end, I wanted to make this tie into current continuity, to make this an encapsulated adventure that doesn't take away from where the story's going in mainstream, but adds to it a bit. I hope you all enjoyed it, and I look forward to another adventure with you all next time!