Chapter 2: June 7, 2032
Matt took in a slow, deep breath as his hands fell into his lap. He had been sitting in his car outside of David and Rose's house for about ten minutes. It had been a few months since he had received Amelia's message and decided to reunite with his family, and what a whirlwind those months had been.
He thought back to that crisp evening in January when he had knocked on Rory and Amy's door.
"If that is more tea kettle salesmen, I have a water pistol! You're don't want to be all wet on a night like this—"
She paused as she took in who was standing in her doorway. Eyes wide, mouth stuck open, and with her trusty yellow water pistol pointed straight in his face.
"I'm not absolutely sure…how long…?"
"Eighteen. Years," she hissed as she squirted him with the pistol for good measure.
He took a stumbling step back and swiped cold water from his face. "Okay. Fair point."
"So…" She glanced him up and down. "You're not dead."
He tried to tame that fire in her eyes with one of his best boyish smiles. "And a Happy New Year!"
She kept that fire set firmly in her eyes as she leaned forward. "Jack told us when he sent your handlers the all clear. You could have returned years ago."
He glanced down at his shoes. "Of course he told you."
"He's a good friend, that Jack." She continued to keep that stern gaze on him. "Well," she said. "I'm not gonna hug first."
"Nor am I," He retorted with a little shake of his head as he looked off towards the end of her street.
They stood awkwardly shifting about, looking anywhere but at each other, for the longest of moments before she caught his eyes and started to smile. He easily smiled back, which quickly tamed his best friend's fire, and soon enough they were giggling in each other's arms. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt his heartbeat quicken at the feel of her warm body. Something inside of him suddenly felt whole again. Something that had been missing for far too long.
"Mr. Pond!" Amy called out behind her. "Guess who's coming for dinner?"
"Hello," Rory said as he joined them at the door. "So not dead then."
"We did that," Amy told him. She turned back to Matt. "Melody is here too; we're about to have our weekly family dinner—joining us?"
He blinked. "Oh no, I don't want to intrude on your family time, I can come back some other night."
"But we already have a place set for you," Rory said.
He blinked again, this time with confusion. "But you didn't know I was coming; why would you set me a place?"
"Oh, because we always do," Amy said with a roll of her eyes. "Come inside, yah moron."
Matt came out of his memory with a soft smile. Since that night he had reconnected with everyone in his family. Well, everyone but Jack. When he had asked about him, Amy had explained that Jack had left some time ago to go on the hunt for River Song, believing that capturing her would be the only way Matt would ever come out of hiding.
Not everything had been happy during the last six months, of course. He and Tasha had gone their separate ways sometime in late May. After he had reconnected with his loved ones, Matt decided to move back into his old flat, as he had bought the building some years ago with the money from his book sales. The distance had been too much for Tasha, and she had been unwilling to move with him. He had understood, and would call their parting amicable, if somewhat disappointing.
He took a deep breath when he saw Rose's face peek out of the window and placed a hand on his door. "Here goes nothing," he said.
He opened the door and stepped out onto soft dirt. He shut the door firmly and turned towards the house. Rose and David had been able to rebuild after the fire that had destroyed their previous home, and Matt had been happy to find that they'd mostly restored it to its form glory—with a few improvements, such as a new fancy alarm system and other similar tech that controlled much of the electronics in the house. David's idea, he was sure. Both he and his dad loved a good bit of tech.
It had been his mum's idea to gather for the anniversary of Clara's death this year. He hadn't been thrilled with the idea, given that he'd spent the last eighteen years doing everything in his power to put his grief about her death behind him, but Rose had explained that the family gathered around this time every year to honor the memory of both Clara and Jenny.
The reminder of Jenny had struck another painful chord in him. Although he had grieved the loss of his sister, Matt had struggled greatly to find it within himself to forgive her for her part in the loss of his Clara. Logically, he knew now that she'd had no good choices, as she had been mixed up with the Silence at the time and not killing Clara would have likely led to Simeon murdering them both. Or worse.
Matt tried never to think about what the "or worse" may have entailed.
But Rose had made a good point when she told him that gathering with the family on this day may help him in the ongoing healing he was working towards where Jenny and Clara were concerned, so here he was.
He opened the door and was immediately met with the smell of something delicious. "I'm here!"
It was Melody who rushed out to greet him. "Uncle Matt!"
He felt a wide smile erupt over his face as he met Amy and Rory's daughter in a hug. "C'mere you!" He squeezed her tightly. "How's school going?"
"Well enough," she answered with the slightest of Scottish accents. He wasn't surprised that her mother had instilled that into her speech. He could distinctly remember at least one instance where Amy had firmly told he, Rory, and Jack that any child of hers would be "Scottish down to the marrow".
He followed Melody into the kitchen and was greeted with a chorus of hellos from his family, though he noted nervous darting glances between them. He assumed that was simply because this was the first time in many years that they had seen him on this particular anniversary. The last time any of them had witnessed Matt during this time, he had been rather out of sorts.
He tried to block out the memory of that time as he slung his arm over his mum's shoulders. "So, what are we having tonight?"
She smiled up at him brightly, her soft brown eyes twinkling. "Your and David's favorite—my famous stew."
He grinned back at her. "Well right-O." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Can I help with anything?"
She shook her head. "Rory and I have it covered. Take a seat with the others."
"So! John, how is the book tour coming?" David asked as he took a seat.
He twiddled with the glass of wine that Amy handed him. "It's all out of my hands, really. That manager of yours, Amelia, really knows her stuff."
Amy chuckled. "She's your manager now too, Raggedy Man. You should take her calls more often. It's annoyin' to be the middleman for you two."
He felt a blush crawl across his cheeks. "Right, ah, sorry. Guess I'm not used to being back in the world again, much less in the limelight." Truth be told, he'd never wanted to be there in the first place, but his book had taken off even more once it was discovered he was alive. He had been spotted in public with Amy, who had become a star in the literary world even more so in the decade he had been gone. As soon as his secret was out, he'd quickly been swooped up by Amy's manager, who had assured Matt she would try to keep the press at bay as much as possible.
Amy waved a hand. "Don't worry about it, Matt. The press will move on fast enough. You just have to wait for the next celebrity scandal to take over the headlines and they'll forget all about you."
He nodded. "Let's hope so."
Dinner was rowdy—it always was in the Tyler home. They had all happily sat around the table reminiscing about times gone by and educating Melody on old inside jokes. Well, Matt was educating her, Amy and Rory were trying to discourage him.
"Peanut butter in the vents?" Melody called out between fits of giggles. "I knew your cooking was bad, mum, but how did you manage that?"
Amy shot Matt a dark look. "Well, it would have been fine, if someone hadn't encouraged Jack to bring out the Tequila."
Matt waved her off. "Oh, come on, Pond. Don't go blaming it on the liquor."
He looked around himself then as David took over the conversation with another story involving Banana Daiquiris. His heart swelled as he took in the people around him. Even though it had only been six months since he was back in their lives, in some ways it felt as though he had never left. It shouldn't have surprised him that his family—especially his parents—had easily picked him up where they had all left off.
He still remembered that first reunion with Rose and David fondly.
Amy had insisted that he call Rose and David the same night as his dinner with the Ponds. He'd hesitated, but complied when Amy had all but shoved the paper with their phone number into his hands.
It had been Rose who picked up. "Hello?"
He had swallowed down a lump that had suddenly lodged itself into his throat at the sound of her voice. "Hi mum."
He'd heard her pull in a sharp breath. "John Matthew Smith, where the hell have you been? Your dad and I have been so worried about you."
Matt hadn't been able to help but smile—although his mum's words were accusing, her tone was anything but. "I'm sorry mum. It'll never happen again."
"I should think not," Rose had said. "When can we expect to see you?"
Matt had set up a dinner the next night, and since then he'd made a habit of meeting with Rose and David for dinner at least once a week. Eighteen years without them had taught Matt just how lucky he had been to have them, and he'd gained an even deeper appreciation for his parents. He'd vowed to never overlook all that they added to his life again.
Surprisingly, even with their continued talking, they had finished dinner relatively early and gathered in the kitchen to help with clean up. Between the six of them, they had been able to clean most of the mess fairly quickly, and it wasn't long before Rose was shooing Matt back over to sit down with the others while she and Melody finished washing and drying the remainder of the dishes.
"You'll just be in the way, go sit down," she said.
He chuckled but gave in to his mum's shooing. "Fine. Ponds? Dad? Anyone up for a game of cards?"
Rory rolled his eyes. "Oh no, Smith. The last time we played you cheated."
He scoffed, trying his best to look offended. "No, I didn't! And you don't even know what game we're playing."
"Doesn't matter," Amy stated, "you always cheat."
"You—I—no I don't!" He looked over to his dad for support. "Care to help me here?"
David shook his head. "Oh no, I'm not touching that one."
"Ha!" Amy chortled.
Rose looked out the kitchen window, and then visibly tensed. "Oh…ah, Amy, our other guest is here a tad earlier than we expected."
Matt looked around him in surprise as the air in the room tangibly tensed in the same way that Rose had. "Someone else is coming? Is it Jack?" he couldn't keep the hopeful note out of his voice as he started to stand up.
Amy held a hand out to stop him as she stood. "No, ah…" She shifted on her feet. "Matt, there's something none of us have told you yet. We…we wanted to wait for the right time."
A spark of anxiety flared up in Matt's heart, but he tried to laugh it off. "Should I be concerned?" He looked towards Melody. "Do you know what they're up to?"
She looked as anxious as he was as she bit her lip. "Maybe just let mum go get her."
His eyebrows raised up to his hairline. "Her? So, it's not Jack, then?"
Amy shifted on her feet before launching back towards the front door when there was a loud knock. "Oh, I guess there's nothing to do now but go on with it."
Matt dutifully stayed in his seat as he watched her go, and darted another look over at Rory. "Are you in on this as well?"
Rory glanced over at Rose, and then David. "I actually thought this should have happened months ago, but the timing never lined up."
Matt's attention snapped back towards the kitchen door when he heard a voice speaking to Amy down the hall in hushed tones. He tried to make out what was being said, or search for a clue as to who was speaking, but he could come up with neither. So, he sat, and he waited with his heart beating out at a break-neck pace now. Something about this felt so off. Who could a visitor possibly be? It wasn't Jack, and it couldn't be River Song. Could it be detective Smith? He knew that Sarah Jane had stayed in touch with his family once they had all come out of hiding as a precautionary measure.
There was absolutely no possible way he could have predicted who walked through the door.
His breath caught, and he swore his heart stopped as he took her in. He wished he could break his gaze away to look around at the others in the room to judge if this could be real, but he couldn't tear his eyes away as she stopped just inside of the kitchen door. Wild waves of emotion rolled through him, and he felt himself grow dizzy as he rode each one. Shock, elation, anger, deep sadness, and back to shock.
He didn't remember doing it, but he was suddenly on his feet and walking towards her. Petite frame, dark hair, and impossibly rich brown eyes—there was no mistaking her.
He stopped the motion of his feet in the middle of the kitchen, and finally forced himself to take a breath to keep himself from falling over. "Clara?"
She pulled in a breath of her own, and his eyes quickly catalogued every inch of her. How many times had he sat with the picture of her in his memory or hands? How often had he ached to remember her scent, the brightness of her smile, the exact way that she filled a room with her laughter? How long had he painstakingly tried to recall the way her eyebrows crinkled when she was focused on something, or how bright her eyes lit up when she looked at him? How much longer, still, had he forced himself to put all those memories away so he could somehow puzzle back together the pieces of his life enough to go on without her?
He suddenly was highly aware of the cool chain he still wore around his neck with her wedding band hanging on the end. Matt supposed he never had been quite successful in moving on from her.
He felt a pang of guilt when that thought made his mind turn to Tasha. Poor Tasha had done her best and had been instrumental in helping him to heal some of his worst wounds surrounding his grief, but she had never held his heart in the same way that Clara had. She had never even come close. Matt knew that hadn't been fair to her.
He felt a million questions swirl around in his head—temporarily causing him to become dizzy again—as he continued to stare at her. How had she survived? Why hadn't he been told that she was alive, and why hadn't she come to him after she had gotten away from the Silence? Why had Jenny thought—died thinking, in fact—that she'd killed Clara, when she was so clearly not dead? It was impossible, clearly, that she could be alive.
But here she was with those same warm brown eyes—if with a few more laugh lines—and those same rosy lips and that same dark hair.
He heard Amy let out a surprised sound. "No, May, wait—"
"Mum?" a voice asked from behind the woman he was still trying to convince himself was real.
A young woman with a similar stature, if an inch or two taller than Clara, and similar dark hair with eyes that looked just a little too familiar in color walked in.
She stopped in her tracks at the sight of him and sucked in her cheeks in another overly familiar way. "Oh."
Clara slowly let out that breath she had taken in and nodded in answer to his question. "Hi, Matthew."