-Epilogue-

Village People

Two Years Later…

The only thing worse than the sweltering heat of New York in the summer was the bitter frost of New York in the winter, and unfortunately, the Eleventh Doctor had found himself in a frozen alleyway somewhere in the East Village blindly following smudged directions Clara had written for him on a piece of notebook paper. It had a draft of a poem on the back that she had scribbled out before giving him the page, and the other side an address Amy had dictated over the phone.

"Doctor!"

He didn't know where Amy's voice had come from, staring around from a pile of trash cans at one end and a street lined with decrepit, outdated cars at the other.

"Up here!"

He looked up and saw Amy's head sticking out of the wall of the apartment building high above him.

"Pond!" he shouted, "I was trying to find your address, but I think Clara wrote it down wrong." Amy laughed.

"The door is that way, right around the corner – it's yellow, you can't miss it. We're on the fifth floor, I'll meet you."

"Right you are!" He thought he saw her smile and then she disappeared, closing the window behind her. He could just about see the words 'yellow door' written on his piece of paper, but without knowing that it was hard to make out the writing. He was beginning to suspect that Oswin had somehow taken the call or written the note, but her handwriting was significantly worse than Clara's even when Clara's was messy.

The Doctor bounded up the steps two at a time and collided with Amy on the third-floor landing, lifting her up when he hugged her.

"I haven't seen you since New Year's Eve," he said.

"What year?"

"I don't know, what year is it now?"

"1941."

"Then it must have been New Year's Eve 1940," he told her, smiling. "We're still in sync, I'm being good."

"Mm, and who's to thank for that? Clara? Does she have a big calendar you have to abide by?" Amy quipped.

"…It's only a small calendar. She marks off the days," he explained, "But I'm here to see your flat! You wouldn't let me in the last time."

"Because we were all out drinking in Midtown," she reminded him, leading him up the stairs the rest of the way, "Well, you weren't, but the rest of us were. And we'd just moved, I forgot the address, everything was in boxes… it's nicer now. Considering."

"Considering what?"

"That we're in New York in the Forties. Here we are," she pushed open a creaky door that he saw hadn't been fixed to the frame properly and let the Doctor into the flat she and Rory occupied. He had to admit, he liked it, but he sometimes struggled to come up with places he didn't like. It was small, very small, but they'd upgraded from a flat that had a Murphy bed to one that had a bedroom, he could see through an open door. They also had photos hanging up that were decidedly not from the right era, but he declined to comment.

"Rory!" he exclaimed when he saw Rory, who was hunched over a radio at the kitchen table, listening intently. He didn't get up to greet the Doctor. "Everything alright?"

"It's December 7th," said Rory.

"Ah. You want CBS at two-thirty, then," the Doctor informed, "What time is it now?"

"One," said Amy.

"They won't declare war until tomorrow, though," said Eleven. "Brought you a present, by the way…" He reached into his coat and produced from transdimensional pockets a box of Yorkshire Tea.

"You're a dream," said Amy, taking it from him, "It's so hard to get good tea here."

"Clara advised me to bring a box," he smiled.

"Do you want a cup?" Amy offered.

"Absolutely, if you don't mind." They didn't have a separate kitchen, just a few appliances wedged into the corner of the room. The Doctor pulled out a seat next to Rory, who turned down the radio. It was playing jazz softly. "How've you been? Do you want a ride anywhere? We could go to New York after they cleaned it up."

"You've not going to get us in the TARDIS that easily," said Rory, though he was clearly still on edge waiting for the news to come through. Not that it had even happened yet to be reported on. "We're good. Apart from all the polio, TB, the fact they don't see me as qualified enough to work in a hospital."

"They have male nurses, don't they?" asked the Doctor.

"Not nearly as many in this decade. I'm hoping they'll…"

"What?"

Amy filled a saucepan with water, in lieu of a kettle, and set it simmering on the hob after dishing out the tea into mugs. She promptly returned to the table while Rory stumbled over his words.

"I was thinking of joining up."

"Joining up with who? Not the Hare Krishnas? Is that now?"

"It's not, and no," said Rory.

"He's thinking of joining the army," Amy explained when Rory was incapable.

"The army!?" the Doctor exclaimed in horror, "The United States army?"

"It's – it's not like that, they're fighting the Nazis," Rory argued, "Or, they will be. And the British Army isn't much better right now, if at all. They're still colonising." The Doctor was gobsmacked and looked to Amy to see what she thought about all this.

"What do you think about all this?"

She shrugged, "It's the Nazis. And what's the risk? We've seen our headstones. We'll die in New York in over sixty years."

"I want to join the Medical Corps," said Rory, "They can train me as an army doctor. They'll need them soon enough in Europe." In a matter of hours, in fact. "I can't be here and not help in the fight against fascism."

"I wouldn't hesitate to call the American army fascist, but…" Jenny was over there right now, helping fix up planes for the RAF in Dover at some point in her distant past. He sighed. "I suppose if it's the Nazis. And the Medical Corps."

"Anyway, you forget I was a Centurion. The Romans were conquerors, too."

"And I don't like them, either," said the Doctor, "Fine. But you'd better leave in '45, and stay away from England. I'm there a lot during World War Two."

"You're there a lot regardless," said Amy.

"All I mean is don't get caught up in things, or before you know it you'll be shipped off to defend the 38th Parallel or throw tanks at Saigon. And call me anytime for a quick getaway, you can be MIA rather than get subjected to a dishonourable discharge."

"What? If I want to run away?" Rory questioned.

"Well, no, of course I wouldn't think you'd do that," he said, "But if they try to pull a Hotel California on you. And I'd avoid getting promoted too much, you don't want to meet someone who ends up working as a presidential aide in 1969, or else they'll recognise you when we mess around with the moon landing."

"Yes, thank you, Doctor, but I do know how time travel works."

"…Course," he nodded, "Sorry. But you will tell me if you need anything? If you find yourself in danger of being shipped to a POW camp?"

"Oh, you mean so you can orchestrate another 'great escape'? Didn't you ruin the 'great escape' and accidentally dig into a room full of German officers?" Amy said.

"I may have," he admitted, "It was a long time ago. I suppose, though, I won't stand in your way if you want to stick it to Hitler. Again. After that last time, where you punched him and stole a bike."

"Never a dull moment on the TARDIS," said Amy.

"What will you do?" Eleven asked, "Stay here, while he's away?"

"I don't have the training or the knowledge to go over as a nurse," she said, "I was always rubbish at science. Barely passed my GCSEs."

"You know, there's always a place for you-"

"On the TARDIS, yes, I know. You'll have to visit a lot more when he's gone."

"I'll visit every day, if you like," he offered.

"Maybe I'll even get so lonely you can bring Clara. How is she, by the way? Are you enjoying being married to someone you see in the right order?"

"I am, thank you for asking. And I hope you mean that, she likes coming to New York," said the Doctor, "And she likes you, and your books."

"I haven't written them yet," said Amy.

"Well. One day. You'd get along if you spent more time with her, you know," he pointed out. He hadn't come there to lecture them about how they still hadn't warmed to his new wife, but the opportunity always seemed to arise, and he had to defend her. He loved her, even if they didn't.

"I'm sure she also likes the Forties because she can smoke where she likes."

"Amy," said Rory disapprovingly.

"It's fine," said the Doctor, "I won't force you. Especially not with this one volunteering to be shipped off to France. You could go with him and join the Resistance?"

"Maybe I'll work in a factory, I don't know," she said, "I'll do something. Write something."

"I think that water's finally boiled," said Rory. Amy stood up to go and finish making the tea.

"Well, whatever happens, either of you just call me with a time and a place and I'll be there, right away, no questions asked. Now, what's say we enjoy Rory's last afternoon of freedom?"

"I'm not going to prison," Rory mumbled.

"We could have hotdogs. I'll pay. Not that I have any money, but I'll-"

"Tea will be fine," said Rory as Amy brought three mugs over, "And you can give us some updates. How are things with Jenny? And how's the baby – Matilda – getting on?"

Eleven sipped his tea and crossed his legs, "Well, Mr Pond, I'm very glad you asked…"