AN: Full disclosure, I am not British and have not attempted to incorporate any British slang/spelling because I would probably look stupid.
Timeline-wise, Amy and Rory are post s7e01, the Doctor is post s4 and post whenever he gets the prophecy from the ood.
Amy didn't really know why she did it.
She didn't really think; she just did.
Those words would probably be inscribed on her gravestone.
Her favorite part of being a journalist and working at home was never having to follow an hourly schedule. Sometimes, however, the time got away for her. Rory had had to make her promise to take care of herself by never skipping lunch, and so she always ate at noon. Well, sort of. It always got pushed off til 1:00 by some idea that she couldn't let slip.
And so it was almost always 1:30 when she went to the park.
Right after throwing her dishes in the sink, she had a staring contest with her boots. They always won. She would find herself lacing them up, then pulling on a jacket, then locking the door behind her. Her feet betrayed her as they followed the familiar path a couple blocks down.
And there she would find herself, mostly hidden by shrubbery, watching the children in the playground. Some days she would walk right back home, but often she would stay for several long minutes, quietly observing.
It was perhaps a bit of masochistic habit, to force yourself to view the very thing you could never have. Maybe even a little creepy. But she couldn't seem to stop. Of all the paradoxes she had been a part of with the Doctor, this was the strangest. Watching children hurt and healed; it tore at her and it mended her.
It was a cloudy day when she saw him. At first glance, she immediately knew he wasn't a parent of any playground children. The young man with spiky brown hair and in a pinstripe suit had wandered in, sat on a bench nearby, and watched, deep in thought. Amy felt she was looking in a mirror.
And so, she couldn't resist her gut instinct; like a moth to the flame, she walked over, arms crossed, and sat next to him.
"Hello."
The man glanced at her with what Amy perceived as a twinge of annoyance. "Hello."
"You come here often?" she asked.
"No," he replied. "First time. What gave it away?" He looked at her with a glint of humor.
Any wrinkled her nose good-naturedly. "The tie."
He gave her an analytical once-over, mildly intrigued. "And what about you? Do you come here often?"
Amy shrugged. "You could say that."
He nodded to the playground. "Which one is yours?"
Amy frowned. "Sorry, what?"
Now the man frowned. "Your child," he said. "Or children."
It clicked a second too late. "Oh, uh, the girl on the swing on the right," she lied, gesturing to a girl of about 8 years old with curly blonde hair. Changing the subject, she asked, "So what brings you here?"
"Oh, you know." He shrugged. "Just a quiet stroll at the park."
Amy snorted. "Says the man next to a playground full of screaming children."
"I find it quite relaxing, thank you."
Amy squinted at him. Was he being sarcastic or just brusque? Deciphering this man was turning out to be much trickier than she had thought it would be. She decided to shift the topic back to her main cause of investigation. "You got any kids?"
"No," the man said, gazing into the distance. "Not anymore."
Amy looked at her hands. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. She had hoped that he was like her, in some way, but now that he had confirmed it, she just felt a sensation of sinking.
There was a lull in the conversation, and tie-man watched as a blonde-haired woman took the hand of the little girl on the swings.
Amy bit her lip nervously, but he didn't seem surprised. He just looked at her with curious brown eyes that seemed so lonely and said, "I'm sorry."
Amy avoided those sad eyes. "Yeah, well, me too."
"Why did you lie?" he asked softly. "About having a daughter?"
Amy sighed. "It's nice to pretend sometimes, you know?"
He nodded. "At first, it is. But take it from me: It's no way to live. Pretending just pushes the pain to another day." His gaze was urgent and soul-piercing and gave Amy shivers. "And when that day comes, and the illusion finally crashes down, the hurt is just intensified." She felt she'd seen that exact look, but only on one other person.
She couldn't look those eyes straight on. "But you're ok until then, aren't you?"
"It catches up eventually. It always does."
"Hasn't yet," Amy murmured.
Finally he turned away and directed his gaze at the playground. After a beat of silence, broken only by the laughter of children and the chatter of parents and the cry of a bird, pinstripes abruptly changed the topic: "If you only had a few days left to live, where would you go, if you could go anywhere in time and space?"
Something in his words made a dull light flicker in the back of Amy's brain. "Oh, I don't know," Amy said, smiling faintly. "I've already been to a lot of places."
"I'm sure you haven't travelled in time though, have you?" he smugly pointed out.
Amy grinned. "No, no, of course not," she declared overdramatically. "Time travel is definitely not possible."
"But if it was?"
She hummed and pretended to think for a minute. "There's too many options," she declared. "How long do I have left?"
"You don't know. A few days, a few months? Maybe hours."
"Can I bring anyone with me?"
"No."
Amy smiled. "I know where I would go."
Tie-man waited expectantly for the answer.
Amy's phone rang, and she jumped. She fished her phone out of her pocket. The caller ID read "Stupid Face." "Sorry, gotta get this. Hey Rory."
Pinstripes patiently waited while Amy had a quick, seemingly mundane conversation with said Rory. Near the end, she covered the microphone and explained to the man exasperatedly, "Gotta run. My husband forgot some stuff for work. But—" she paused as some idea came to her. "Hold on, Rory? I'm gonna have a friend over tonight, that alright?" Pause. "Ok, love you. Bye." She shoved her phone back into her jacket pocket and searched around until she found an old receipt and a pen. "Like I said, I have to go, because I'm married to a stupid." She scribbled something on the receipt. "But, I will answer your question. Just not right now." She handed it out to the man.
He took it hesitantly. There was an address and a time scrawled on it.
"My house, 7:00, tonight. Come over, we can talk more, you can meet my husband, I'll answer your question."
He just looked at her, baffled and…was he amused? "I'm…busy," he said lamely.
"Yep, you are now!" Amy laughed. "You're coming, want to or not."
He smiled. "You remind me of someone I used to know."
"Tell me about her tonight." She stood up. "See you." She dashed off.
Just before she left the park, she looked back. The man had disappeared.
Rory frowned at the clock. 6:54.
"You said a friend was coming over, yeah?"
They'd just finished their dinner of turkey tacos, courtesy of Amy, who was currently flipping mindlessly through TV channels. They were curled up on the couch, Rory's arm casually around her and Amy leaning against his shoulder.
Amy absently hummed in assent.
"Who is it, Martha?" Rory asked.
"Nope."
"Jo?"
"No, you don't know him."
Rory frowned. "Him?"
"Yeah, it's this guy I met today."
He blinked. "You gave a guy you just met our address?"
"He looked lonely, ok?" Amy shrugged. "It's not as bad as it sounds."
"Where exactly did you meet this person?"
Amy froze for half a second. "At the park."
Rory sensed her tense against him and watched as she fiddled with the TV remote, turning it over and over in her hand.
"Amy," he began carefully. "I don't want to jump to conclusions—"
Amy tossed the remote on the coffee table. "Careful how you finish that sentence."
He sighed. "You told me you'd broken the habit."
She jerked away from him. "And I can't just go to a park in my own free time if I want to?"
"Amy," Rory protested, "that's obviously not the problem. If you had been 'just at the park,' you wouldn't be acting—"
"Fine!" Amy interrupted. "Fine. Whatever. I was at the playground for 10 minutes. So what? It's not a big deal." She looked away and bit her lip.
"It's just…" Rory started, then frowned as something processed. "Did you meet this guy at the playground?"
"Yeah."
"And he was watching his kids?"
"Well…he didn't exactly have kids, but—"
"Amy!"
"What?"
Rory groaned. "Great. You probably just invited a pedophile to our house."
Amy stared at him. "Rory!"
"A man, at a playground? with no kids? Are you out of your mind?"
Amy left the couch. "I swear to you, I trust this man. I can't explain it, but I do."
He sighed. "You and your impulses."
"Besides," Amy added bitterly, "does it matter? It's not like we have kids we need to protect from him." She stalked to the kitchen.
"What's his name?" Rory called after her.
"Didn't ask," Amy snapped.
"Of course," Rory muttered. He stared ahead vacantly, struggling to keep a jumbled mixture of undefinable emotions from spilling over. One of them was definitely anger.
Just then, for better or for worse, the doorbell rang.
"You gonna get that?" Rory asked, somewhat pointlessly, as he knew she definitely would.
"Yes, I am," Amy retorted as she headed towards the front door.
"Just invite the friendly neighborhood pedophile in. Why not?" Rory said sarcastically to himself. "I'm sure we'll all be best friends."
He sighed, heaved himself up from the couch, and briskly headed to their front door. He walked up behind her right as she opened the door.
Rory breathed in sharply. "Amy."
Amy didn't notice. All she saw was the man in a pinstripe suit at their doorstep, the dull glow of sunset behind him. He hadn't changed since the few hours before; his eyes were still just as brown and just as sad. She smiled broadly. "Come on in," she said brightly.
Tie-man's response was not as bright. "I'm sorry, I'm not here to stay," he said.
Amy's brow furrowed. "But—" Amy started.
"But," he interrupted, "I'm here to make you an offer."
"Amy," Rory protested softly from just behind the door.
She ignored him. "What's that, then?"
"All of time and space," the man said, smiling slightly. "I can take you anywhere, anytime. We could go where you said you wanted to go."
Amy stared at him, opened mouthed. "That's not possible," she breathed.
"It is." His smile truly reached his eyes. "I have a time machine! We can help each other, you and I. You want to forget…" his tone became bittersweet. "I just want a friend."
"Amy," Rory insisted more firmly. "Look."
Amy looked. A little ways away from their house, hidden partially by a tree, was TARDIS blue. The one and only TARDIS blue. For the first time in a long time, Amy had no words. There she stood, leaning out her front door, frozen in place.
The Doctor awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets. "Or…well…" He scratched his head. "Or not. That's fine too. Travelling isn't for everyone, I suppose. Though, if you want, we can just go to wherever you had in mind and I'll bring you right back home."
Amy started to laugh. "I'm an idiot! The clothes, and everything—you're the Rag—" she trailed off, realizing the spoiler she was about to give and the concern and confusion on the Doctor's face.
"I'm the what?"
Amy smiled warmly. "Doctor. You're the Doctor." He tensed. "And you don't understand. I'm already exactly where I want to be: home, with my husband…and my best friend."
The Doctor breathed out slowly. "You know who I am."
Amy nodded and grinned widely. "Oh, this is too good!"
Rory poked his head out of the door to get a better look. "You're not wearing a—" Amy shoved him behind the door again.
"Shush, husband," she said. "Can't have too many spoilers."
The Doctor flinched almost imperceptibly at the word.
"He's already seen you!" Rory protested.
"Yeah, well, it's a bit too late for that now."
"You just want to have bragging rights," Rory grumbled, but remained where he was.
"So you know future me?" the Doctor asked. "Different face?"
"Yep."
"Well," he said, his tone dripping in the irony of it all, "I guess he and I have a similar taste in friends."
"You're the same person, dummy," Amy said with so much familiarity that the Doctor's hearts ached. He had been alone for far too long.
But however much he wanted to stay, to find out who she was and why she was sad: "It's best I leave," he said reluctantly. "Before I screw up our timelines."
"Sounds like the boring, responsible thing to do," Amy said, rolling her eyes. "Don't you worry though, when we meet again, we're going to have one hell of a time."
"Oh, I don't doubt that." He grinned.
Amy watched regretfully as he turned and took a few steps down the path. But he hesitated. Then turned around. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
Again, with the familiarity. It made the words fall out of their own accord. "Am I so different," the Doctor implored, "that you didn't recognize me?"
Amy thought back to her immediate trust for the man, to the eyes that had seen too much, to the clothes of the Raggedy Doctor staring her right in the face, to the compassion he had shown to her, a stranger, to even the little phrases he used as he talked. "No," she realized. "I think I knew. I just didn't put it all together."
He looked away, and Amy could tell even from a distance that his eyes held all that intensity of the sadness from earlier. Even though she was supposed to be the one who was all mysterious with spoilers, this past version of her best friend seemed far more enigmatic. "Can I ask you something too?"
"Of course."
"Doctor, why were you at the park? Watching the kids?"
"Just passing by." He shrugged. "The innocence of children sometimes reminds me to keep living." He frowned, as if debating himself for a quick moment. Then, suddenly: "I'm dying," he confessed.
Amy blinked in surprise. "Sorry?"
When he looked back at her, the intensity in him was thinly veiled. "I was given a prophecy. I'm going to die."
Amy almost mistook this as a reference to Utah, until he continued: "I'm going to die soon, and a new man will take my place. The man that you know."
Amy frowned. "Is that so bad?"
"Maybe not." He looked into the distance again. "In a way, though, he's not really me. He's someone else, sauntering away in my ship."
Amy walked down the porch steps, approaching him like a lost dog. "But, Doctor," she said. "Of course he's still you. And I would know." She enfolded him in a hug.
He gratefully hugged her back. While her few words didn't fully assuage him, they brought him some comfort.
"I know it's silly," he said when she released him. "So spare me any teasing when you next see your Doctor."
"Oh," she scoffed. "This is definitely at the bottom of the list of things to tease him about."
The Doctor smiled. "Well then."
Amy smiled warmly back. "Take it from me, you're going to be amazing."
"Aren't I always?" His eyes sparkled teasingly.
Amy rolled her eyes. "Just go."
He took a few more steps toward the TARDIS, but once again paused. "What about you?" he asked, seriousness and concern back in his voice. "Why were you watching children, and then lying about it?"
Amy's smile fell. "You'll find out."
His eyebrows knit together in worry, and she could practically hear the doubts in his mind—What will I do? Will I completely ruin yet another person's life? She didn't blame the Doctor for what had happened at Demon's Run; but how could she explain any of that to a much younger version of him without spoilers? She probably couldn't even explain her mess of emotions with spoilers. Best to leave it as vague as possible.
"It's ok," she said softly. "It's not your fault."
The Doctor nodded and breathed out.
"See you soon, Doctor."
He smiled, almost sadly. "See you soon." He paused, as if about to say her name, which he had to have overheard from Rory, but had thought the better of it.
And then he was off, hands in his pockets, running away in his blue box to some other adventure.
Amy watched until it had faded away and the darkening evening was once again silent.
"Amy?" Rory had snuck up behind her as she had watched. "Are you okay?"
She turned around and put on a smile. "Yeah."
Rory frowned. He reached out and tucked her hair out of her face and behind her ears. "You're crying."
"Am I?"
"Yes," he said softly, and used his thumbs to wipe away her tears.
Amy crumbled underneath his tenderness and held him close. "He's so…sad. And lonely."
"He's lost a lot."
And so have we went unspoken.
"Amy?"
"Mm?"
"Maybe in the future, don't invite over random guys?" His voice reverberated comfortingly as he held her. "You'll have Doctors left and right asking you to travel with them."
Amy laughed through her tears.
If I eventually have the inspiration to write, yes the Martha namedrop is who you think it is ;)
Word count: ~3000
-dandelioncrown
