1994
"Excuse me," Amy said, "but are you a weeping angel?"
Dressed in a turtle-neck shirt and slacks, she had her long, gray hair in a pony tail as she looked up on the statue of an angel on the grave of one Julius Grayle. It was a sunny day in Early September. Amy wasn't as spry as she'd once been, and she knew she would pay for today's trek into the cemetery with a long nap. But there were things to be taken care of, so she'd grabbed the IBM Thinkpad laptop, put it in a small satchel, and headed for the cemetery.
"My husband and I figured you were," Amy said. "But even though our grave is over there-" she pointed "—so you can't send us back AGAIN – we thought it was safest if we waited until one of us was gone. Then the other would be too old to provide with a good meal. Hope you don't mind." She looked around. "There's no one else around, and I doubt anyone on the highway is looking this way. So if you could change to your regular form? I need to see your face. I need to know that I'm talking to the right one. Otherwise, I'll be on my way."
She closed her eyes. When she opened them, the angel had its regular form, and it was crouching on the head stone, smiling with a warm, friendly look on her face.
"Yeah," Amy said. "Oh, yeah. I never forget a face. You're the right one." She went around the side of the headstone. "I'm Amy. Pleased to meet you. Mind if I sit down?"
She sat down against the side of the head stone and heard something drop down in to the side of her. Then creaking noises and a grunt. She peaked around the corner. The angel was standing there with its hands in its back, arching its back.
Amy giggled. "Yeah, I guess standing in one spot like that would cause a backache, even if you are living stone." She turned back to her bag and got out the laptop. She heard more noises and peaked again. The angel was sitting on the ground on the front of the headstone, turning Amy's way and smiling.
"Nice to meet a friendly angel," Amy said as she started the laptop. "That lot on the *Byzantium*" … She shuddered. "Don't know if it's anyone you know; it was in the 51st century anyway. But you seem to be ok. That's good. Anyway my son has a friend whose son went to MIT, and set this up. Had to hem and haw about why I wanted it, but they don't need to think I'm totally crazy. And it's working! Great. It's a voice synthesis program. You type something in…hello…my…name…is…Amy… and hit return, and…"
An emotionless electronic voice came out of the laptop: "Hello, my name is Amy."
"See?" Amy said. "So we can have a conversation. You try it."
She looked away and felt the laptop be taken off her lap. Then after a moment, the keys rattled. "Damn," Amy said. "You are one fast typist."
The keys stopped and the electronic voice said, "Thank you Amy. This is wonderful. I enjoy conversing with humans. I am called Gabrielle. And you needn't have worried. I have sworn that I will never again feed on a human's time energy."
"Then how will you stay alive?"
"I won't."
"Oh, I…I don't know what to say. But you have a problem. See you're going to feed one more time. That's where I know you from. You sent me and my husband from 2012 back to 1938."
There was a long pause. Keys rattled, and Amy heard, "Excuse me, but what did you say your name was?"
"Amy. Amy Williams. And my husband was Rory Williams. We were at Winter Quay. We jumped off the roof. We created a paradox that blew the place up and sent us back to 2012. Right over there, as a matter of fact. But then an angel sent us back to 1938. You. That's why I have to talk to you. You have to take care of something for me."
Though the electronic voice was flat, Amy swore she could hear anguish in it: "No! Do you realize what you've done? You and Rory were free, and I was never going to feed again. But you've doomed us both. You told me I'm going to do it, so I have no choice now. I'm a monster. I am evil. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore, but I can't help it." Amy heard sobbing.
"Hey," Amy said. "Listen to me. Let me tell you what happened. I was looking right at you. The image of an angel is an angel, right? So you got in my head. And as the Doctor was pleading with me to get in the Tardis, there was a voice in my head telling me it would be all right, that I would be with Rory. That was you, wasn't it? And I felt so much love and compassion, as if I was being hugged from the inside. You sent me to Rory because it was the right thing to do. And we've had a good life. Some ups, some downs, and one or two surprises, and a trip upstate that was the absolute best. So don't say you're evil. I've met evil. It ain't you. All right?"
A sniffle and then the computer voice: "All right. Thank you. What do I have to do for you?"
"You'll see the Doctor again after that, and when you do, you'll have to thank him for the money…"
8
8
2014
"What money?" the Doctor interrupted.
"I'm sorry," Gabrielle said. "I assumed you took care of it when you left with—that was River, right?"
"Yes. But I haven't done it yet, so you might as well tell me."
8
8
1994
"…when Rory and I arrived in front of this Salvation Army mission, there was this lizard lady and this little old English woman waiting for us. Madame Vastra, she said her name was. And Jenny. Nice people. She said the Doctor had given her some gold and they'd sold it to get us some cash. Didn't go into too many details except to say something about how the Doctor had adopted some of humanity's less desirable traits. Whatever she meant by that." She held a slip of paper over her shoulder. "Time, place, date, and how much we got. Commit it to memory."
The paper got snatched out of her hand. "All right, Amy. I can do that. And while I am sorry I will have to do that, I knew Rory…an alternate version of Rory. I took care of him at Winter Quay. I knew he loved you and missed you very much. So…I will be happy to keep you united."
"That's the spirit! Don't beat yourself up so much."
"I'll try. Anything else? Will you want a berth in the sleeper car for your trip to 1938?"
Amy laughed. "Sleeper car? Oh my, girl! You've been here for too long. Those big airplanes that go overhead all the time? That's how people get around now."
"As long as it's better than being in the cargo hold of a steamship. That's how I got here from Londinium. Not the most comfortable experience."
"Londinium…that's the Roman name. You know they-"
"Hey!"
Amy turned in the direction of the voice. A man in coveralls from the cemetery was coming up from behind the headstone, so he couldn't see Gabrielle.
Amy got to her feet. "Yeah? Is there a problem?"
"What happened to the statue?"
"Statue?" Amy hustled over to the man and tried to keep his attention on her.
"The statue on the Grayle grave. It's missing. Did you see what happened?"
"Are you sure you're thinking about the right one?" She grabbed his arm and pulled him away from Gabrielle, getting their backs to the Grayle headstone. "There are some statues over there-"
He pulled his arm free. "No, I mean that one, and the statue is-" He broke off. Gabrielle was back on top the headstone in her long-haired angel form.
"Well, there's a statue there now," Amy said. "Maybe the light hit it wrong?"
The man looked at her. "You a friend of the family?"
"Something like that."
"I'll have to call Mrs. Grayle-"
"Ah, no. I have to be going."
Amy hurried away from the man. She collected the laptop and the slip of paper. She looked to make sure the man was heading back the way he came. Then she smiled up at Gabrielle. "Hey. It'll be all right. Nice meeting you. Goodbye."