Chapter 2: "You're all right!"
"To respect the dignity of a relationship also implies accepting the end when it comes. Except in my mind, except in my dreams, where the aftertaste of her still lingers."
André P. Brink
The TARDIS floated in space, silent … lacking direction. Inside, the Doctor sat in his customary chair across from the main console, staring blankly at the central column in front of him.
River was gone, and not just off having her own adventures this time. Gone, as in post Library, as in lost to him forever. While he couldn't be one hundred percent certain, it was unlikely that he'd ever see any version of her again - because they'd done Darillium and he remembered, back on that fateful day, her telling him it was the last time she'd seen him.
A small part of him hoped a younger River was still out there, about to call on this him to rescue her. An even larger part fully understood why River had slapped his young face back in Utah after he'd invited her to witness his death. It would be cruel indeed to see River again, knowing that for all intents and purposes she was dead.
"Why didn't you do something?" he muttered angrily, the question one that had circled in his mind in the weeks since Darillium. It was ridiculous to be so incensed with his younger self, his tenth incarnation, as though that man were an entirely different person he could blame. He wasn't and the Doctor couldn't push the guilt he felt far enough away to disclaim it.
Sometimes it made him sick to his stomach, how easily he'd let River take his place in that chair. When the guilt was at its highest he wondered at his own motives. Had River bested him because she was just that good? Or had his tenth self been so scared of what she represented it was easier to let her go than risk himself, his emotions, his heart, when he'd sworn to himself that he'd never go there again? Had she died because there really had been no other way, or had he subconsciously put his emotional well-being ahead of her life? It wasn't something he'd do now, but then, that different version of himself, he hadn't known how rare and precious River would be.
The silence inside the TARDIS was oppressive – he desperately needed something to do but for the first time, the Doctor didn't know where to go next. His recent losses weighed heavily. First Amy and Rory, and then River. She'd refused to travel with him all the time which had hurt enough on its own, more so because of the Library.
Before any of it happened he'd felt time slipping away and been powerless to change it. His best friends had moved on, that's what it amounted to. They were all living their lives in ways and in places where he couldn't follow. It was crazy to feel left out but he did.
"Don't travel alone."
River's words echoed in his mind and he scowled. "Easier said than done, honey," he muttered sarcastically. "Can't just open the TARDIS doors and invite the first person I see to be my companion, now can I?"
It had always been the situations themselves that saw new companions emerge into prominence. They didn't come knocking on his door begging to be let inside … well, mostly they didn't. Donna stalked him for months without his being aware and he was sure she would have stormed her way inside the TARDIS if he'd dared to refuse her request to belatedly accept his prior invitation.
No, usually he had to be out there, doing something … which brought him back to the beginning of his current malaise. Where did a Time Lord go when he really had no drive to be anywhere but home where he could wallow in his misery without recrimination?
"What do you say, old girl?" he stood, making his way over to the main controls and resting his hands lightly on the keyboard. "Ready to take me somewhere special? Your choice." He rarely gave the TARDIS her head because it never ended well … now he quite thought he'd welcome a bad ending.
The central column pulsed, the noise as much a 'hell yes' as it would have been if the TARDIS could talk.
The Doctor chuckled weakly. "Right then, have at it."
He stabbed a finger decisively at the primary button, engaging the engines. The TARDIS shuddered, like a dog shaking off the dullness after a long nap in the sun, before spinning away. The time vortex sucked them in, bouncing them from side to side as the energy pulsed around them like lightning. The Doctor held on, trying to rev himself up to care about where they were going. The ride was rougher than usual but even that wasn't enough to entice his true interest. When the much loved sound of the TARDIS landing echoed around the room he let out a sigh and then straightened his shoulders determinedly.
"Let's see where we are," he announced, forgoing the need to look at the computer screens to check conditions. The TARDIS wouldn't take him somewhere environmentally unsuitable without warning him and everything else wasn't important to him. Nothing had been important since River left him for the last time.
Ripping the door open he strode outside, his feet hitting asphalt, his senses assaulted with the sounds of traffic, the noises of a busy street just a few paces away. The TARDIS had landed in a small alleyway, the usual flattened cardboard stacks and trash receptacles along each wall providing concealing cover for the blue police box.
"So … Earth," he muttered somewhat reluctantly. It wasn't somewhere he really wanted to be … too much history. The TARDIS must have had a really good reason for bringing him here.
Walking slowly forward he approached the street until he emerged onto the sidewalk and cast a curious, assessing glance around. Judging by what he could see – the types of cars and what people were wearing – it was the early to mid-nineteen hundreds. Merging with the people walking briskly the Doctor let himself be carried along, the familiarity he was feeling at odds with what he believed to be possible. After a few blocks he found himself outside an establishment that proclaimed itself to be the Waldorf Astoria hotel.
"No, in couldn't be," the Doctor muttered, glancing around him, bewildered. If he didn't know better, all the evidence suggested he was in New York, but that just wasn't possible, was it?
The hotel was a hive of activity, more so than for an ordinary day, and for the first time since River left, the Doctor felt genuine curiosity. What event was bringing so many people together, himself now included?
"Ticket Sir?" the man at the door queried.
"Oh, right, of course, tickets," the Doctor flashed a knowing smile, pulling his bill fold out and opening it. The psychic paper did its usual trick, the man nodding briskly as he shifted to let the Doctor pass.
"The showroom is to your left Sir, just beyond the stairs," the Doctor was informed before the man's attention turned to the next person.
"Showroom for what?" the Doctor murmured, following instructions and entering a large area a few moments later.
People, mostly men dressed in suits, milled around, the drone of multiple conversations filling the room. High above, suspended from the ceiling was a large metal boomerang shaped decoration with a big hole at the bend, the whole thing jutting out from the stage to loom partially over the crowd. On the wall behind it enormous letters – GM – were light up. Higher, at the back, were the words "Motorama of 1953" and holding centre stage was a large automobile, its chrome finish glistening under lights. There were additional vehicles on the same level as the crowd as well and presumably some of the conversations centred around these.
It was all very interesting and the energy level in the room was certainly high enough to warrant some degree of attention, but there was nothing obvious to the Doctor as to why the TARDIS would bring him here. It was what looked to be an early style motor show and the Doctor had never expressed any particular interest in cars.
Making his way from group to group, the Doctor listened to the talk going on around him, his puzzlement growing. "Why here?" he muttered, stopping abruptly. Frowning, he turned and glanced to his left and then back to his right. Still nothing unusual to grab his attention. Three men walked in front on him, the space not enough for them to get through easily. The Doctor stepped back, right into the person behind him.
"Oi!"
He knew that voice!
With a start, the Doctor spun around. A woman, tall and slender, stood glaring at him. She was about fifty, with lightly greying red hair and sparkling green eyes that looked both too young and too wise to belong with the rest of her. The moment stunned him – she was different but still so very much the same.
"Doctor?"
Amelia Pond stood before him, dressed in the manner of the times. She was older, true, but still Amy, still beautiful, still full of that zest for life that had always drawn him.
"Amy?" he whispered, incredulous that his eyes were working properly. His senses had been right - he was in New York, but how? How could he be here, when and where she was? "Amelia Pond?"
"Doctor!" Amy threw herself forward like she always used to and the Doctor had just enough time to open his arms to receive her hug. It felt so good it was all he could do not to burst into tears. He swallowed manfully, absorbing her warmth and familiarity and feeling something tense and bitter relaxing inside. The TARDIS had been right – this was where he needed to be.
"I knew you were lying!" Amy declared triumphantly, stepping back to give him the once over. "Although, you took your time coming to visit." Her expression turned annoyed and she smacked his arm, hard. It was so much like old times, so much what he'd longed for that the Doctor found himself laughing.
"Oh, I've missed you Amelia Pond," he declared, gathering her close for another hug.
"We've missed you too," Amy squeezed him tightly for a time before shifting to his side so that his arm remained over her shoulders. "Just wait until Rory sees you!" She bounced a little onto the balls of her feet, her excitement obvious.
"Then lead the way," the Doctor invited, eager to see Rory again as well.
They took a taxi cab from the hotel across a bridge to one of the boroughs of New York, slowing only when they passed a sign welcoming them to Sunnyside Gardens. The homes were brick row houses of two and a half stories, with gardens in front – the streets were quiet and pretty, the setting idyllic for family living. As the Doctor got out of the cab he glanced around and smiled – it was exactly the type of place he'd pictured them in, a fifties style version of their home in London. When they walked up the path and he spied the TARDIS blue door, he clapped delightedly.
"Look at that," he exclaimed, grinning at Amy.
"It was already that colour," Amy defended, brushing past him to open the door. "Rory," she called out, heading towards the back of the house.
"In here," a familiar voice called out.
"Kitchen," Amy shared as she urged the Doctor to follow her.
Rory had his back to the door when they arrived, busy with the kettle and cups in front of him. "Good timing - I'm just making tea," he said, not looking around.
"Ooh, lovely. I could do with a spot of tea," the Doctor said.
Rory tensed and then turned slowly, as if he didn't believe his hearing had been right. "Doctor?" he said uncertainly.
"In the flesh!" the Doctor declared, grinning. Rory had aged too, of course, his face now a little lined and his hair also sprinkled with grey but still as thick as it had been. The calmness of his manner and the way his eyes took in everything was the same too and the Doctor's relief was immense. "You're all right!" was all he could think to say.
"Last time I checked, yes we are," Rory agreed.
"Oh, just hug each other already," Amy insisted impatiently. Her accent had an American edge to it now but the Scotland still came through loud and clear.
The Doctor rushed forward, slapping Rory's back enthusiastically as he hugged him.
"Okay, that's enough," Rory protested after a few moments, half laughing. "You're liable to break something. In case you haven't noticed, we're not as young as we used to be."
"I did notice something along those lines," the Doctor agreed. "I don't care! You both look wonderful – you really are a sight for these sore eyes Ponds."
"So are you," Amy agreed. "It's been what?" she glanced at her husband, "fifteen years?"
"Something like that," Rory agreed.
"Fifteen years," the Doctor whispered. It was so long – they would have well and truly moved on from their life with him by now. They'd gotten over him, so to speak – far too soon from his perspective.
"You sound surprised," Rory noted. "How long has it been for you then?"
"Oh, um," the Doctor fumbled, "a few months I suppose."
"Is that all?" Amy's eyes narrowed and he realised abruptly that he should have lied.
"Long months," he added evasively, "difficult, really difficult and … long … in fact it feels like a lot longer ... years really."
"Right," Amy's brow rose. She eyes him for a few moments silently. "I'm assuming this is as much a surprise visit for you as it is for us."
"In a manner of speaking," the Doctor agreed.
"It must be because otherwise River would have come with you," Amy continued as if he hadn't spoken. "She wouldn't miss a visit with us, would she Rory?"
"Visits every month, regular as clock work," Rory replied, watching the two of them carefully. He knew Amy was on to something but wasn't sure what it was yet.
The Doctor felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach and all at once he understood why he was really there. River had been visiting her parents all along, she just hadn't told him. The TARDIS would know that just as the time machine knew everything – his friends would be expecting their daughter to visit again soon, only this time she wouldn't.
He was there to break the bad news.
"Not yet," he muttered, turning away so he wouldn't have to look at Amy. He wasn't ready for this – he wasn't sure he'd ever be ready for this.
"Not yet what?" Amy was suddenly very serious, her face paling as she picked up on his mood. "Doctor?"
"I'm so sorry," the Doctor said stiffly, hunching in on himself as he kept his back to them. "It wasn't my choice to come here. Stupid, selfish Doctor thinking it was for my sake, only it isn't and I'm really, very, sorry."
"It's River, isn't it?" Rory questioned quietly.
The Doctor turned reluctantly, knowing he had to face them. They stood together now, Rory's arm around Amy, the unified entity they'd always been still so obvious. He wouldn't have to spell it out for them because their expressions said they already knew. Their daughter was gone.
"Yes," he admitted.
"What happened?
"She took an expedition to the Library planet," the Doctor explained tonelessly. "Visitors had been locked out for a hundred years but that didn't stop River – she had to help find out what happened to all the people. It wasn't safe - the planet was teeming with Vashta Nerada – deadly shadows, the piranhas of the air." He tried to smile as he met their eyes. "You should be proud – she sacrificed herself to save them – her expedition, the 4022 people trapped inside the computer's transport systems, Donna Noble …. and me." His voice broke on the last word and then abruptly he was crying, the grief he hadn't let himself feel almost crushing him.
This wouldn't do … and it wasn't supposed to be about him. Bending low, the Doctor struggled to get back control, almost moaning at the effort it took to cut off the raw expression of his grief.
And then arms were around him … Amy and Rory, giving him something to hold on to. With renewed sobs he clutched at them and let them anchor him in a world that no longer made any sense.