Epilogue

"He has your embarrassingly large forehead!" the Doctor cooed over the baby Connor in his arms. They had returned to Angel's room and found the crib smashed to bits, but as far as the Doctor was concerned, it was a bit of a plus: it meant he got to hold the child longer. "He likes me!"

Angel grinned and shuffled his feet in a gesture that looked quite pleased with himself. The kind that all new fathers have when they're not trying to look too macho to feel it. His feet kicked some of the broken pieces of crib on the floor by accident.

"Did he mean that as a compliment?" Rory whispered to Amy.

"I'm not sure you're allowed to talk about embarrassingly large foreheads, Doctor," Amy said loudly.

"Nobody asked you," the Doctor said. He thought Connor's forehead was just fine. He lifted the baby into the air a few times and he kicked wildly. Connor, the miracle baby. Which, the Doctor supposed, was actually what most babies tended to be. Maybe he was a miraculous miracle baby.

Amy continued, as if instructing the Doctor on various greetings in a foreign language: "Instead you could say, 'Oh! Look at those beautiful blue eyes,' or, 'Such tiny hands,' or..."

The Doctor, feeling that he had the general idea, stopped listening and settled Connor into the crook of his arm again. He had that wonderful baby feel to him: that soft, new, full of energy and potential kind of...hope. "Angel, your child has all of the normal parts at adequate yet adorable sizes."

"Or...that…" Amy finished, flicking her fingers resignedly.

Angel's grin broadened. "He's perfect," he agreed quietly.

Angel was wonderfully succinct. "You should bring him," the Doctor said firmly.

"Bring him where?"

"Everywhere. You should come. Don't you think they should come?" the Doctor asked Amy.

Amy crossed her arms and cocked her hip. "Doctor..." she started, but she was looking at Rory, who was trying very hard to not meet Amy's eyes. Such a smart guy.

"Doctor," Angel chuckled, shaking his head, "the last thing you want on your ship is a newborn."

"Angel, you don't have a clue what I want," the Doctor said. "But newborns need to be exposed to new experiences, like bringing their fathers to wonderful intergalactic space stations. You don't want him to be sheltered."

Angel barked out a laugh again. "I think he's had more experiences in his first few days than some people get in a lifetime. But when he's older, someone will have to take him to Disneyland."

The Doctor brightened. "How much older? Amy, Rory, we're going to Disneyland!"

"I asked to go to Disneyland ages ago and you said that Disney had banned you for the rest of your life."

"Amy," the Doctor pointed a warning finger at her. "That was ages ago. Keep up."

Amy's hip cocked to the other side.

"I was thinking maybe 6," Angel said. "Young enough that it's magical, but old enough to remember it. Did you know you can do character breakfasts? I was thinking Mickey. Classic. But, you know, it could be whoever he likes best. Goofy or Daffy...no...who's the duck?"

"We'll see Elsa. She's my favorite," the Doctor said.

"Who?" Amy asked. "Seriously, Doctor, you've got to stop making references up that don't exist."

"Okay, Amy, Rory and I go see Frozen, and then we go to Disneyland."

Connor started to whimper, so the Doctor transferred him back to Angel. "I am loving today!"

"We almost died," Rory pointed out.

"But we didn't."

"And we kind of beat the Master," Angel added, bouncing Connor gently to quiet him.

The Doctor grinned, pleased that Angel was also able to overlook the near death experience in favor of the better aspects of the day. "See you in six years, then, Angel."

Angel looked up at him, smiling. He had a very nice smile, when he chose to smile. It wasn't fake, like a whole lot of smiles out there. "Sure," Angel agreed. "That sounds like fun."

Sounds like fun. Angel actually meant it, too. Given Angel's tendency to respond to any of the Doctor's ideas with a 'no' or a resigned aire, the lightness of the answer felt like hope that the Doctor hadn't known he'd been missing. Like the start of something. Like something the Doctor had seen once, but not been able to grasp or even touch at the time. He suspected that while that time wasn't now, it was getting very, very close.

"Yes," he said, catching Angel's eye and grinning at him, "we'll have a blast."

The End

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! We hope you enjoyed it; we had a blast writing it. And if you did enjoy it, there's plenty more where that came from...