1938
Rory lay curled up in a ball where the angels had dumped him on the roof of Winter Quay. He kept his eyes squeezed shut against the tears. The last minute was seared into his brain: The surprised look on Amy's face as she'd lost her balance and fallen off the roof; him, River and the Doctor screaming as the angels fell on them during the moments when the Winter Quay neon sign flickered; and finally Doctor and River's voices suddenly stopping. He hoped they had been sent back in time and not met some other dire fate. Who knew what lengths these things would go to if they had been crossed too often?
He pushed himself to a sitting position. It was pitch black, but he was aware of movement around him. And he had the impression of cruel mockery behind it.
"All right then," he challenged. "Let's get it over with. You want me? You want to send me back? Let's do it! Send me home! Come on, you bitches! What are you waiting for?"
More movement in the shadows. Then a rush away from him. He heard the huge footsteps of the Statue of Liberty retreating. Then the light went on and there was one angel left standing between him and the door. Though physically about the same size as the others, she seemed forlorn somehow. She did not look happy. And she was carrying a large manual type writer in her hands. The light dimmed again. When the light came up again, the angel was sitting next to him; she'd set the typewriter down in front of her. And Rory saw the lines of water running from her eyes. She was crying.
Rory nodded. He wanted to unload his rage and grief on one of these angels, but he had a feeling that it wouldn't be right with this one. "Let me guess," he said. "You feel different from the others? You feel bad about what happened? So they're leaving it to you to do the mopping up? You're probably the butt of a lot of jokes and they want to get their laughs by making you do the dirty jobs? Yeah, it's something like that. Well, I'll let you in on a secret: The crazy ones, the ones that don't quite fit in, they're the best sort. I ought to now. So you keep thinking what you think and believing what you believe."
He blinked, and in that interval the angel's expression changed to a slight, sad smile.
"Yeah," he advised. "Don't let them get you down." He wiped his tears and looked at the typewriter. "So what's this for, then? This how you're going to try and talk to me? All right. Guess I'll have to look away. Let me know when you're done."
Rory turned away. He tried to lose himself in the view as the typewriter rattled. None of it seemed real, as if something had gone wrong and something else had been meant to happen. He knew Amy was dead and the Doctor and River were…who knew. Yet it also seemed wrong.
They typewriter stopped its staccato song and he heard a polite cough. He turned and saw the angel had scooted over to make room for him. He moved around. By the light of the sign, he could read what she had written:
_Rory, my name is Gabrielle. You do not know me, but I have taken care of you for 41 years. In fact, you were the very first human to arrive here, and I have been your companion until you died just now. You spoke of Amy often. I know you loved her very much. If there had been anyway to prevent what had happened, I would have done it. But you are living in a time loop, so unfortunately, there was nothing to be done. I am so sorry for that, for what it is worth. But I will recover her body and I have arranged for her to be buried with your older self. So you will be reunited in the end. I hope you can take comfort from that._
He looked at Gabrielle. "Thanks," he said. "That is very decent of you." He sniffled. "So, how are we going to do this? Just a touch, yeah?"
He looked away. The typewriter rattled. Another cough. He read:
_I know it is asking a lot at the moment but I would like to embrace you. I certainly need a hug right now. If that is all right with you. Then tell me when you are ready and I will send you back._
"Sure. Why not?"
He knelt in front of Gabrielle, closed his eyes, and spread his arms. He felt her move into his arms and embrace him. He hugged her back. Instead of cold stone, she felt like a normal person, like…
No. Best not to dwell on that. Not now.
Gabrielle's body shook and he felt her sob.
"Hey, none of that," he soothed. "Amy doesn't like long faces. And I'm a nurse, too, so I know what it's like to lose patients you've made friends with. But from what I saw, old me was in pretty decent shape, so you did a good job taking care of him."
Gabrielle hummed and squeezed him a little tighter.
Rory felt a little better. Even though the angels had cost him his wife, daughter, and son-in-law, he felt no animosity towards Gabrielle. That would come in handy when he met her again.
"All right," he said. "I'm ready. See you on the other side."
Gabrielle squeezed him a little tighter. Then her body vanished and he felt raindrops hitting him.
Rory opened his eyes. He was kneeling on the front steps of Winter Quay. And it was raining.
8
8
1897
Two more flaps of her wings and Gabrielle banked and glided between the crystal spires reaching up from the forest. Of course, in the real world, it was dangerous to fly. It had to be in the dark when no one was looking and there was the risk of running into something. And by day, turning to stone at the wrong moment could be deadly. But here in the quantum mindspace she and Lucielle shared when their physical bodies touched, Gabrielle could not only assume her flesh form of a young woman with dark hair in a green dress and dark wings, but fly by day as much as she wanted.
She banked around one spire, turned, and went the opposite way around another. Then she dove towards the ground, built up speed, and pulled up, mighty wing beats driving her skyward. She looped, banked through an s-turn, and skimmed the treetops.
Then she realized she had lost track of Lucielle.
"Lucielle?" she called. She looked around. Other than feeling the other angel's presence, she had no idea where she was. "Where-"
Something crashed into her from above. Gabrielle had just enough time to realize it was Lucielle when they tumbled out of control through the canopy and landed in a clearing with a solid thud. Gabrielle found herself lying on her back. Then Lucielle laughed as she jumped on top of Gabrielle, straddling her, holding Gabrielle's shoulders down.
Gabrielle said, "You idiot! You could have killed us both."
"Oh, don't' be so serious." In her flesh form, Lucielle had red hair green, green eyes, and generous red lips. "This is a dream, remember? Our dream." She began to lean down. "I was beginning to worry if you still cared about me. You've spent more time with that silly typewriter thing than me lately."
"We have to be ready," Gabrielle said, softening as she looked up into Lucielle's eyes and began to yearn for those soft lips. "Humans will start arriving from the future any day now. We have to be ready to take care of them. Which means I have to be ready to communicate with them."
"We don't need machines for that."
"They're social animals. We should try to communicate directly as best we can without causing unnecessary suffering. But that doesn't mean I've forgotten you. In fact, Lucielle, I've been thinking about you a lot lately."
"Oh, really?"
"You doubt me?"
"I would like some proof of your affection, yes." Her lips were just inches above Gabrielle's.
"Then you shall have it, my love." Gabrielle leaned up to kiss Lucielle. As the kiss grew deeper and their embrace tightened, something touched their combined awareness.
Gabrielle pulled out of the kiss. "What's that?"
"Nothing."
"No, it's something."
Gabrielle shifted her attention to the real world where she and Lucielle stood in the lobby of Winter Quay, their wingtips touching.
A voice was calling from the other side of the heavy front doors. Someone was pounding on it.
Lucielle wondered, ((Who's that? A human knocking on our door and demanding entry? Why?)) (Her words were carried by waves of quantum energy no human could hear; and even if they could, not even a Tardis could translate the angels' ancient language.)
((Why do you think?)) Gabrielle answered. ((I think we've got one!))
8
8
Rory got to his feet. Gas lamps lit the street, and he could smell horse manure. But Winter Quay was dark.
He turned to the door. It had opened on its own when he had first got here, but now it didn't.
'Unbelievable,' he thought. 'Great nurse, lousy pilot.' He banged on the door. "Hey!" he shouted. "You lot. Open up."
Nothing happened.
He banged again. "Oi! You wanted me here, right? Got me back from the future, yeah? Well, I'm here! And if you want me to die of old age in that room, it would help if I don't CATCH MY DEATH OF COLD NOW!" He broke off. "Oh, God, do they have flu shots back…now? I don't think I got one last year."
He turned away and looked out over the street. He heard the door open. He turned and saw two angels holding the door. He recognized Gabrielle; she was smiling. The other wasn't smiling as broadly. If anything, the other angel looked annoyed.
'So you've had a bad night?' Rory thought. 'Good.' He turned to Gabrielle. 'Remember, she doesn't know you,' he thought, 'so act daft. Maybe this is why the Doctor is the way he is.'
"Hello, yes," he said. "Sorry for the outburst. Williams, Rory Williams. I've had a long trip from 2012; the layover in 1938 was a bitch. So I'm a little cranky. It's not your fault. Well, actually, it is, but that's neither here nor there and hasn't happened yet if it ever will. Anyway, I seem to have lost my luggage along with my entire family. Is my room ready? Sorry, I didn't call ahead to check my reservation."
Gabrielle didn't respond… of course. "Oh, right," he said. "Have to blink." He closed his eyes and heard the door shut.
8
8
When Rory closed his eyes, Gabrielle felt her gain enough of a flesh form to close the door. ((Go and get a room ready,)) she said to Lucielle.
((Which one is his?))
((The place is empty. Pick one!))
((Oh, calm down. It's not like he's a suitor. I think some rooms on the 8th floor have been finished.))
((I'll be in the office with him. Go and check and come back.))
((All right.))
Lucille rushed down the hall. When Gabrielle was sure Lucielle was out of sight, Gabrielle opened the door.
8
8
"Unbelievable, just unbelievable," Rory groaned. Gabrielle's future self had said he was the first to arrive, but he didn't realize the place wasn't quite ready to go. 'Nice to know monsters have cock-ups, too.'
It started to rain harder. Rory began to wonder how long he'd have to wait when the door opened again.
Rory stepped into the lobby. The door shut and it was dark. Then a hand grasped his and tugged gently. Rory allowed the unseen guide – Gabrielle?—to lead him down a hall into a room. He was guided into a chair. An oil lamp hanging from the ceiling lit. Rory found himself in a small office. The door was to one side, filing cabinets on the other side. He was sitting in a swiveling chair. He turned it around. Behind him was a small circular desk. Gabrielle sat on the other side, a manual typewriter on it. Rory tried the table and saw it swiveled, too.
"Ah, I see," he said. "Ingenious. But why not just talk? Is it part of the turn to stone thing? Never mind."
He swiveled away. The typewriter rattled at some length. Then he some creaking and a cough. He turned and the typewriter was facing him. He read:
_Hello, Mr. Williams. I am Gabrielle. In answer to your question, we do not have voices, or not ones you can hear. The closest we can come to spoken communication is to break someone's neck and use parts of their nervous system. I find that unnecessarily gruesome under the circumstances. This may be cumbersome, but it is the best method of direct communication I could find. Since it sounds as if you already know about us, I do not need to make a lengthy introduction. You will be spending the rest of your life here, and I will be tending to your needs. I will also provide as much company as I can. To that end we have a small library, and I am acquainted with human board games. I apologize for not being adequately prepared for your arrival. We knew humans would be arriving soon, but we did not know when exactly. In truth, not all our rooms are ready yet; my associate is trying to find one for you. In the mean time, could you clarify something? You said you were from 2012 and 1938? I am confused._
He laughed. "So the oldest things in the universe can have cock-ups. And when you…lot send me back, you have to send me to this date, so it's a perpetual cock-up. Dear me." He looked into Gabrielle's eyes. "Not funny for you, I expect. But I'm a nurse where I come from. I've seen every sort of screw-up with a new arrival that can happen. So you have my sympathies. I'll try not to be a troublesome patient. Had enough of those, too.
"Anyway, call me Rory. And as to how I got here…" He shrugged. No sense not telling her. "My son-in-law is a Time Lord. Maybe you heard of him, the Doctor? Took us all over time and space. Anyway, we were visiting New York in 2012. Then I went to get coffee and one of you lot sent me back to 1938. April, I think. The Doctor and River followed. Had a bit of trouble getting here…and then…" It was too fresh. He started crying. "Sorry." He turned away. He heard the typewriter rattle, then swivel back. He read:
_That's all right. I am sorry you had such an arduous journey. We'll get you to a room and you can dry off and rest._
"Thank you-"
The lamp flickered. When it relit, the annoyed angel was standing in the door.
((I've got room 802 ready,)) Lucille said. ((But he's short bath towels. I'll have to go to the laundry room to get them.)) (Rory heard none of this, of course.)
((But everything else is ready?)) Gabrielle asked.
((Yes.))
((Then I'll get the towels.))
((All right. Have fun with your new pet.))
The light dimmed. As it came up, Rory saw the annoyed angel was gone and he heard the typewriter go again.
_Good news! Your room is ready. Room 802. The elevator works so you should have no trouble. I'll be up in a few minutes with your bath towels. You can get dry and rested. I am sorry for your misfortune, but if you behave yourself, your life here shouldn't be too unpleasant._
Rory smiled. "Oh, Gabrielle, I think we're going to get on famously."