Emerald Green

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Farewells

"Oh, fuck," Molly muttered as they approached the house on the outskirts of the city.

The Doctor glanced at her. "I know you're nervous, but-"

"It's not that," said Molly. "I mean, this time, it's not that."

The house was surrounded by what looked to be police officers, but Molly knew better. Some of the Agents were still roping off the area, and a small crowd had gathered. Molly had a good look at the man who was trying to disperse the crowd.

She saw the Doctor's confusion. "What is it, then?"

"I forgot that James changed his last name to his mother's maiden name after his parents divorced."

"What?"

"James Oliver," she said, motioning to Robbie's supervisor as he shouted at the crowd to step back. "In my world, he was James Oliver, too, until he changed his name to James Thomas."

She felt the Doctor stop beside her as he examined the supervisor's face. "…Ah. Yes. I should have recognized him. That would be your ex in this universe." He paused. "Small universe."

"That's your ex James?" asked Amy. This time, Strax had absolutely insisted on coming along, so Jenny and Vastra stayed behind with Arty, with the promise that Amy and Rory would switch with them if things got dicey.

"Yep," moaned Molly. "Are we still sure I need to be here?"

"Well, at least he won't know who you are," said River, and gave her an encouraging push forward.

She groaned again, but forced herself to move forward to face her alternate universe ex. He looked almost exactly the same, though his black hair was a little messier, and there were more lines around his dark brown eyes then in her universe. That was probably what happened when you had a job like his, and not a job handed to you on a silver platter by your maternal grandfather.

"You the negotiator?" he asked. "Harkness said he was bringing an expert."

Instead of taking a moment to be stunned by the familiar voice like she thought she would, she immediately turned to Jack. "He said what now?"

"Molly's an expert," the Doctor assured James. "Just modest."

She'd never been described as 'modest' before. "I can't promise anything," she added to the Doctor's statement.

"Negotiators never can," said James, as he waved the group past the line. "We just need you to tell us what his demands are to release the hostages. He won't speak to us."

"Does he know I'm here?"

"He said he'd speak to someone not associated in any way with the agency," James told her. It was strange hearing him sound so naturally in charge, whereas her James had been all bravado. "Wait here a moment and we'll tell him you're coming up to the door."

He disappeared into the chaos of Agents quickly. Molly felt her chest tight, and her hands were shaking. She tried not to show how terrified she was to go into that building and try to convince someone with a gun not to kill everyone in there, including herself.

She had to focus. She turned to Jack. "Tell me about him."

"I mentioned he's married. His wife's name is Mary. She has something called Spina Bifida, and can't walk, but she does computer programming for extra income. They have two children, twins, Luke and Lucy. I think they're about eight years old now," said Jack. "His mothers in this time, and she lives in the city. She used to live in Queens, but after he started with the agency, he set his mother up in an apartment. His dad used to get blackout drunk every night, and sometimes he'd…" Jack didn't need to finish the sentence for her to understand. "He's been splitting his payments between Mary and the kids, and his mom, keeping just what he needs to get by for himself, or to get presents and gelt for the kids at Hanukkah, or for their birthdays."

"Sounds like a good guy," said Molly, looking at the little white house.

"Good?" asked Rory. "He's holding people hostage."

"Yeah. I wonder what he did that has him so scared?"

"You sound like the Doctor," River observed.

Molly felt a warm tingle through her body. "Thank you."

James returned before Molly could get a look at the Doctor's reaction, holding what looked a lot like a bullet-proof vest. "Okay. This should withstand the beam from his weapon. You can change in the van."

Molly looked at the vest, then at the house. "No."

"I think you-"

"No," Molly repeated, shaking her head. "I'm supposed to be going in there as a potential ally. If I wear that, I'm saying I expect him to shoot me. I'm saying he's a murderer, not a person. I need him to trust me. He won't trust me if I don't trust him."

"It's really unusual for-"

"Oh, shut up, James, I can make my own choices," she said, automatically. She hesitated when she realized she'd spoken to him like she'd have spoken to her James. "…sorry."

But this James didn't react with anger like hers had. "Okay. You call the shots here. You ready to go in?"

No, she wasn't. She turned and looked at the group, each of whom seemed to believe in her more than she believed in herself. Her eyes landed on the Doctor, and she could tell he could see her fear. He stepped closer to her. "You know I wouldn't send you in if I wasn't absolutely confident you could do this," he said. "But you can still say no. No one will force you to go."

Molly held her breath a moment, then sighed. "I'll do it. I'll try my best, anyway."

"Your best will be more than enough," he assured her.

She looked at the group again, and forced a smile. "Well. Be right back."

"You've got this," Amy assured her.

Molly nodded, then turned to James. "So should I just walk up and knock?"

"Keep your hands up as you approach the door. Knock on it with a few kicks. Keep your hands up until you're inside and he says you can put them down."

"Got it." And then there was nothing else to do but walk up to the door. Don't get angry, she told herself. Not this time.

With another whispered 'fuck', she put her hands up and walked through the overgrown front yard to the door, and gave it three gentle kicks. She decided to identify herself. "Hi. I'm the negotiator. I'm not armed, my hands are up."

She saw curtains in the window by the door shift, and then the door cracked open. The first thing she saw was the gun pointed at her, and she fought to keep from vomiting. She hadn't actually seen the gun that shot her, but she remembered vividly the feeling of the bullets tearing into her.

"Turn. Slowly," said Robbie. Molly did so, turning on a dime. "Okay. You can come in. Close the door behind you. Keep your hands up."

"Will do," she said, and then wondered if she should be speaking so casually. Robbie took a few steps back, and she nudged the door open with her foot before going in, and leaned back to close the door.

"You wearing anything? Bugs? Vest?"

"I'm not. Promise," she said. "Can I lower my left hand for a moment?"

He hesitated, then, "Yeah. Just a moment."

Molly nodded, then used her left hand to pat down her bodice and skirt. Then she slipped her shoes off to show him there was nothing hidden there, either, then quickly put them back on. She really didn't want to do this one barefoot.

She put her left hand back up. "If you want to pat me down, you can. I won't think you're making a move or anything." Again, she thought she probably shouldn't be cracking jokes.

But it seemed to put him at ease. "Nah. It's fine. Sit at the table."

Molly glanced around the room. They were in a little kitchen, with a small table up against a wall, and two chairs at it. She moved towards the furthest chair, so she could peek through the doorway to the living room. She quickly counted the heads as she turned, and was relieved to find that everyone seemed to be okay. But she didn't look for long. He had to know she was here for him, not for them.

"Put your hands flat on the table, and don't move them."

Molly nodded, and pressed her palms against the wood of the table, flat enough to feel the grain of it. "Do you want to tell me your name?"

"I'm sure they already told you," he said, sitting across from her. The gun was still aimed at her, and he leaned back so she couldn't reach to grab it. Not that she would.

"Yeah, but there was this kid at my school that was named Jackson. He preferred his middle name, Daniel, but shortened it to Danny. Is there a name you prefer?"

He seemed to think about it for a while. "You can call me Robbie."

"Robbie. Hi," she said, smiling. She thought about adding a 'nice to meet you', but figured that would be a bit too obvious of a lie. "I'm Molly, Molly Quinn."

"You're not with the agency, right? They told me they would send someone else in."

"I'm not. Even if I wanted to be, I probably wouldn't make it in. I'm not big on authority."

"Me neither," he admitted. "You were with that group that was chasing me in London, though."

"I was. My friend was looking for someone, and thought the energy your device was putting out might be them. We ran into some of his friends, who were looking for you after James Oliver told them to keep a look out, and…well, you know what happened."

"Didn't mean to take you with me," he said. "You've been hard to dodge, searching the city every day."

"You've been hard to find," said Molly. "I've got all kinds of blisters."

"You don't sound Victorian," Robbie observed. "And you've got an American accent."

"My friend is a time traveler, but like…an independent one. Recreational," she explained. 'Recreational' didn't seem to cover it, but it was enough for this situation.

"When're you from?"

She actually had to think about it for a second. "2024. No. 2025. I missed a lot of the end of 2024 and the start of 2025, so I keep getting my years mixed up."

"I like the 2020s," he said. "Well, the media, anyway. Movies are great."

"Right?" Molly agreed with a smile. "Did you see the third Spiderman movie?"

"Yeah," said Robbie, and she felt some relief to see him starting to smile back. "It was nice seeing Andrew Garfield as Spiderman again. He's my favorite."

"Mine, too. Best one-liners."

Robbie nodded, then the smile faded. "We're not here to talk about movies, though."

Molly felt the atmosphere shift immediately. "No. We're not."

"You're talking to me like I'm not holding a gun at you."

"Not the first time I've had a gun held at me. And it wouldn't be the first time I've been shot, either," she added. "But I don't think you're going to shoot me."

"Why not? You don't know me."

"I don't. But I've heard some things."

Robbie grimaced. "I saw Jack out there. Did he tell you about me?"

"A bit."

"Are you two friends?"

"I've only met him a couple times," said Molly, shrugging. That was the truth, so her mouth didn't run away with her. "He didn't get into anything too personal. But he told me about how you take care of the people you love. So I don't think you're a bad guy. I think you're a decent guy having a really, really bad day."

Robbie made a sound sort of like a short, barking laugh. "You could say that, yeah."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

She saw the gun waver in his hand a moment, and thought that maybe it was because he was moving his finger to the trigger. She felt a sharpness shoot from her stomach to her throat, and she felt her spine ache though she knew the injury wasn't there anymore.

But instead, he lowered the gun. "Well, you and your friends have been giving me a pretty hard time." He paused. "Was one of them a Sontaran?"

She did her best not to smile with relief. "Yeah. Strax. He's not bad, as long as you keep the grenades away from him."

He chuckled, and again she felt cool relief flood her. "I prefer 'em without grenades, too," he said. He hesitated a moment. "I'm not like this. This isn't something I do. But I needed a place to run, and I wanted to go home, my home before I met Mary, but they considered my house abandoned and sold it and there were these people living here. And I thought…well, I had you on my trail, and the agency on my trail, and I just needed some kind of bargaining chip so people would listen to me."

Molly nodded. "That's why I'm here. To listen. Do you want to tell me your story? Or just what it is you want from the agency? It's up to you."

Robbie leaned further back in the chair, and gnawed on his lower lip. He looked up at the ceiling for a while, and then looked back at her. "Pa was a drunk. He'd go to the liquor store in the morning, buy two big bottles of whiskey, and they'd be empty by night. Sometimes he'd buy three. He'd knock Ma around some nights, but mostly just passed out. Ma had to take care of us. She worked in a factory all day, then came home and worked as a seamstress by night. I had to take care of myself, you know, starting when I was eight. I look at my twins – I've got twins, Lucy and Luke – and they're eight, and I can't imagine leaving them to fend for themselves like I had to, but Ma had to work to keep us alive." Molly heard the tightness in his throat when he talked about leaving his kids alone at eight. She heard his fear of becoming his dad, because that was a fear she was intimately familiar with. "I started work young, too. I sold newspapers on the corner, then milk bottles, then worked at a hot dog cart, that the old man left to me when he died. I only went to school a couple days a week. By the time I was twenty, I had enough money saved away to move here, get a little house. Then I got the agency job, and I could afford to get Ma out, too. We packed everything in the middle of the night while Pa was passed out. But about a week ago…"

He didn't seem able to continue. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."

He shook his head. "Nah. I get the feeling…" he paused again. "People like us, we recognize each other. I can see it in your eyes. You know what it's like to be scared of being your Pa. I want someone to understand."

Molly felt the tears pricking her eyes, and she took a breath to steady herself. No crying. Not now. "You're right. We do recognize each other."

He nodded. "Right. So…" He took a breath. "A week ago I found out that while I was working at the agency, Pa tracked Ma down, and he broke her door down, and beat her to death with a bat. Then he shot himself." Molly felt her heart sink straight down to the floor, and flashes of red filled her eyes. "I'd just left her, like he wouldn't ever go looking. I should've been there. I should've watched out for her. I should've moved her in with my wife Mary and our kids, even though I wasn't allowed to take her out of her time, and Mary's in the 2000s. But she could've helped Mary with the twins, and she'd have been safe." The regret made his voice thick and coarse, and that was a sound she knew well.

Instinctively, she reached to hold his arm, though she couldn't reach. She realized what she did, and quickly moved to press her hand against the table again. "Sorry. I was just…I know the feeling."

He stared a moment, and seemed to make a decision. "It's fine. I trust you, I think. You can move."

"Thanks," she said, relieved. Her arms were feeling stiff, and she felt the need to mess with her hair to help settle her anxiety, so she ran her fingers through it a few times. "I don't fully understand what you've gone through, of course, no one but you can. But I am familiar with that helpless feeling, that regret and overwhelming guilt, when you feel like you could have done more to protect your mother."

Robbie tilted his head at her. "I wanna know your story, before I say anything else."

Molly froze, both in movement and in temperature. This wasn't something she wanted to do. But she needed to bond with him, she knew. And if she wanted him to say anything more, she didn't really have a choice.

Reader's Digest version. "My dad was mentally ill, though we didn't know it. When I was twelve, I made a joke with him about being a goddess, but he believed me and constructed this whole story in his head, about me being a reincarnated goddess called the Phoenix, and how he needed to make sacrifices of the pain and blood and death of women, and then cut me open in order to release the goddess. He became a serial killer, and killed a bunch of women, and on the night of my thirteenth birthday, he tortured my mother in front of me. Eventually he was distracted, and I slipped the chains he'd put on me. I misheard my mom when she said 'get help', and thought she asked me for help. But I was scared, and I ran to a neighbors instead. By the time the police got to our house, my mom was dead. I didn't realize she'd been asking me to go get help until recently, and I carried that guilt with me since I was a kid, of leaving her behind while she begged for help, and the guilt of the women my father killed." She paused a moment, and hoped she could sound like the Doctor. "You shouldn't blame yourself for things that were outside your control. What happened was because of your dad's actions, not yours. It is all on him. You did what you thought was best for her."

She saw Robbie swallow hard. He seemed to tremble for a moment. "What your Pa did, that was fucked up."

Molly almost gave a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah. It really was."

"Do you blame yourself?"

She closed her eyes, and wished he hadn't asked that question. How could she tell him not to blame himself, when she blamed her words for the painful deaths of so many women? She didn't blame Robbie for his mom's death, though he blamed himself for leaving his mom unprotected and being killed by his dad. But she blamed herself, for leaving those women open to her father's attack.

And finally, finally, she felt it all click into place, and opened her eyes. "I blamed myself to punish myself. I…" Tears filled her eyes, and it didn't matter anymore. "Punishing myself was easier than forgiving myself. It was an easier process, to hate myself for every little thing I did that might have led to what he did, than it was to look at the situation clearly and understand that I wasn't at fault. It's harder to work through the guilt and the pain and the regret that comes with grief, rather than indulging in it. Forgiving yourself is so, so much more difficult than blaming yourself. You have to face the grief and feel the pain of it, rather than turning it into self-hatred, which is easier to carry." She moved her hands to wipe away the tears. "Until about a minute ago, I blamed myself. But I can't blame you for what happened to your mom. And blaming myself sets an example, a pattern, a logic that means I'd have to blame you. But it wasn't your fault. And it wasn't…" Her throat closed, and she had to wait a moment for it to open again. "It wasn't mine, either." She had to wipe tears away again, and took a deep breath. "Sorry. This is about you, not me, I swear." But her mind screamed. It wasn't her fault.

When her vision cleared, she could see that Robbie's eyes were red. "Nah. It's fine. I think…I needed to see this." He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and shook his head as though to shake away the encroaching emotions that were softer than what he was clinging to. "I couldn't live with the guilt. I stole a gun and used my Time Vortex Manipulator to get to Ma's apartment before Pa did. When he got inside, I shot him. But the second he died, the agency knew what I did. James Oliver knew. They showed up at the door, and I had to run, but they took my Manipulator before I could get out with Ma. They were talking about how to fix what I'd done, and I knew the only way that I might undo their so-called 'fix' was to get away so I could go back again without 'em. I grabbed someone else's Manipulator and took off, but I landed in water, and the Manipulator shorted. I had to cobble something together. I was in the future, and took a look at some records, and they'd done just what I knew they'd do."

Molly heard the chill in his voice. "What did they do?"

"They killed Ma. Made it look like Pa had shot her, then himself. To 'restore the timeline'. To avoid a paradox," he said, bitterly. "I don't give a fuck about paradoxes. I just want my Ma back."

Molly felt sick. This was why they wouldn't tell anyone what he'd done, because they didn't want anyone finding out what they'd done to fix it. She could almost feel that pain. If she'd been able to save her mom, she would have. And then to have her coworkers, her supervisor, go back and murder her all over again…

All she could do for a long time was stare at Robbie in horror. "That's awful," she could say, eventually. "There aren't words for how awful that is."

"No, there ain't," he replied. The more emotional he became, the more he seemed to slip into how he must've spoken before the agency. "I hate 'em more than anything, almost more than Pa. I left Ma behind to get killed for them. I barely have any time with Mary and Luke and Lucy 'cause of them. And they killed my Ma. How do you do that to someone? Even if I might've caused some kinda dangerous paradox, how do you do that to someone?"

"I don't know," she half-whispered. "I don't know how anybody could kill the mother of someone they were supposed to be comrades with."

He nodded, though he only seemed to be half-listening. "I know I did wrong. I mean, I don't care that much, but I know I broke the rules, and I know the paradox might've hurt somebody," he said, in a rush now. "What I want is my Ma back. But I know they won't give me that. So what I'm askin' for is to keep my retirement fund. They're gonna take it from me, 'cause of what I did, 'cause they're gonna put me in prison for risking people like that, and for this, and killing Pa, and they're gonna fire me. But I want to keep that. And I want a years' pay. And I want it sent to my kids, and my wife. I don't want to be like my Pa, to leave them all to fend for themselves. Mary does computer programming, but it's for a little extra income for vacations and stuff. It's not enough to support them. I want them taken care of until she can find better work. And – well – she can't walk, and a lot of people won't hire someone who can't walk, even though she's able to do the job. So it needs to be at least a year, plus the extra from the retirement fund. And I want Ma to have a proper funeral and burial, and I want to be there for it."

"Okay," Molly said, nodding. "That sounds reasonable to me, after what they did to you. I'll get it for you."

"You shouldn't make promises," he replied quickly, "James won't want to give me anything."

"Don't worry about James," she assured him. "I know…uh, people like him. How to deal with them. And my friends recently informed me that I can be pushy when it comes to making people do the right thing."

"Okay. Okay, yeah," said Robbie, standing. He kept the gun on the table. "If they let me go to Ma's funeral, and send my pay to my family, I'll let everyone go and give myself up."

"Cross your heart?"

She was glad to see him smile. "Cross my heart."

Molly stood slowly, still wary of startling him. "I'll go tell them."

He nodded, so she headed for the door. Her hand touched the handle when she heard him speak again. "Molly?"

She turned. "Robbie?"

"Did you want to kill him?" he asked. "If you could have killed him, would you have?"

This was an easy question to answer. "In the moment, to stop him? I wouldn't hesitate," she said. "Afterwards, in revenge? No. No, I didn't want him dead."

"Even after…?" He didn't seem to be comfortable saying exactly what Cillian had done.

"I didn't want him dead," she repeated. "I want him to suffer."

The small smile he gave her was conspiratorial. "Did he?"

"I think so. He was in prison last I heard, in isolation." She shrugged. "I don't even know if he's alive or not. I still want him to hurt, if he's still alive, but it's no longer important to me. He's not important to me."

Robbie sighed. "You think he'll ever stop being important to me? Even after everything…he was supposed to love Ma and me."

Molly chose to think it through, and tell him honestly. "I think you'll have a lot to work through first. But yeah. I think one day you'll wake up and realize you forgot to be hurt by him the last few days." Like she had, with the names. "That kind of guilt, that kind of hurt, that kind of deep anger, they're all like grief. It's like a wave. It'll come, and it'll go, but the wave will be smaller every time it rolls back in, until it's gone, and you didn't even notice it going." She thought for another moment. "With grief, it's never gone forever. And sometimes there are tidal waves that you'll have to ride out. But the pain and guilt and anger when someone doesn't love you the way they should - they'll just be a memory someday. Sometimes the memory hurts a little, but most of the time, you won't even remember to think about it."

When Robbie blinked, a tear ran down his cheek. "Thanks. I needed to hear that from…maybe the only person who understands. Someone who's actually gone through it. I had to know what to get ready for."

"Happy to help," she said, with a smile. "I'll go get you what you need."

Molly exited the house, and made an immediate beeline for James. Now she could be angry.

"What the actual fiery pit of hell, James?!" She didn't care that he wasn't actually her ex. She was too furious not to treat him like he was.

She saw the concern on the faces of her friends as they moved to join her where James stood by the van.

James had a grimace on his face. "I was afraid he was going to talk to you about it."

"And you should have been!" she screamed, now close enough to get into his face. She'd always appreciated being taller than him during a fight. "What kind of fucked-up 'fix' is this? What is wrong with you? How do you do something like this?!"

Molly felt a hand on her shoulder and tried to shake it off until she realized it was the Doctor, and then let him pull her back a step.

"What's happened?" the Doctor asked. "What did Robbie do?"

"Ask them what they did," she spat.

The Doctor turned to James. "What did you do?"

Molly recognized the set of his mouth in a line, the way his eyes narrowed with all the muscles around his eyes as his anger built. "We did what we had to do to clean up his mess."

"That doesn't answer the question," said River. Her voice was firm, seeming to trust that Molly had good reason to be angry.

"I don't answer to you."

"You asked for our help," said the Doctor, "You owe us answers."

"I owe you nothing." His professional demeanor was dropping. This was how Molly remembered him, during the last days of their relationship.

Molly folded her arms across her chest. "You want to be a coward, I'll tell them myself."

"I'm no coward!"

"Then tell them."

James looked like he was about to scream at her as his face went red, but instead he shifted his infuriated gaze to the Doctor. "He changed his own timeline, and with it, the timeline of others. We fixed it. It wasn't pretty, but it had to be done."

"Fine," Molly said sharply. She moved to stand by James, and turned to face her group. "Robbie's mother was murdered by his father. He went back and saved her, killing his father. The agency showed up and killed his mother, to make it look like the murder-suicide it originally was."

"They did what?" Amy demanded, turning her own angry gaze at James.

Rory looked sick. "What kind of a person does that?"

"That's disgusting," said River, looking the perfect mix of her mother's anger and her father's horror.

"Dishonorable," Strax muttered. "Striking down an unarmed adversary. No sport to it."

"Tell me you didn't, James," Jack pleaded, but underneath that was something like a threat.

The Doctor was the only one who didn't speak. The setting of his mouth, the deepening of the circles under his eyes, the line in his forehead all told her exactly what sort of anger it was he was experiencing.

"We didn't have a choice," James said, trying to defend himself, but his anger sounded weak compared to the Doctor's mere expression.

The Doctor stepped forward, pressing his hands together, and indicating towards James with the tips of his fingers. "There's always a choice. A better choice than violence." He spread his hands, another familiar gesture. "Agency-sanctioned murder, is that it? Is that how you solve your problems?"

"You don't understand," James insisted. "Eileen was popular among her neighbors, helping to repair clothing and children's toys and kitchen sinks. That murder-suicide brought everyone in that apartment building closer together. It made them look out for each other more. It made them watch for signs of domestic violence. And that saved a little girl, Polly Wren. Polly grew up and joined the agency, though she never met Robbie." He paused. "When Robbie saved his mother, Polly disappeared. Polly was killed by her mother when she was ten. Eileen had to die, and it had to be clearly domestic violence. It was the only way to bring Polly back."

"So you executed Eileen," replied the Doctor, his voice low. "It wasn't domestic violence. It was cold-blooded murder by people who never met her before."

"They don't know that, and that's what matters."

"It happened, and that's what matters," the Doctor countered.

"What was I supposed to do?"

It was River's turn to be angry. "You were supposed to do anything else. There are a thousand possibilities, there always are. You're telling me you couldn't come up with one?"

"This isn't how the agency does things," insisted Jack.

James glared at him. "You went rogue. You wouldn't know, would you?"

"Did they approve this?" asked Amy, sounding disgusted. "The agency?"

"Of course they did," said James. "I wouldn't have gone forward with it if they hadn't."

The Doctor folded his arms. "I'm not certain what the point of your agency is." James heard a question about his work. Molly, and the others, she was sure, heard the threat.

"We protect-"

"You don't seem to protect anyone," Rory interrupted.

"Shall I kill him?" Strax asked.

"No," said Molly. "We're not like him. Besides, we still need him."

James glowered at Molly. "And what is it he wants? His mom back, I assume."

"Of course that's what he wants," said Molly. "But he knows he won't get that. So instead, he wants his retirement fund, and a year of pay, to go to his wife and kids. And he wants his mom to have a funeral, and a proper burial, and he wants to be there for it."

"Well, he's not getting that," said James. "He's dishonorably discharged from duty. He doesn't get his retirement fund, or a whole year of pay without work. We can have a funeral arranged, but he'll be in chains for it."

"No, he won't," the Doctor insisted. "What he's asked for is more than reasonable, after what you did. You'll give his family what they need. You'll give him what he needs to grieve the mother that you killed."

"And why should I?"

"There are still people in there," said Amy. "People who need our help."

"He'll have the funeral, in chains. Maybe I can get him the retirement fund. That's all."

Molly stepped forward, put her hands flat against his chest, and shoved him back into the van. She gripped his shirt tight in her fists, and stepped even closer so, while she didn't exactly tower over him, he had to look up at her. "You're going to give him what he wants because it's the right thing to do, James Oliver. Aren't you?"

"I…" His eyes were wide with something like fear, but not quite. He cleared his throat. "Miss Quinn, I-"

"That's ma'am to you," she said firmly. "Say it."

"Ma'am," he started, and hesitated. "I really should-"

Molly placed a heel at the top of his shoe and leaned forward. "You really should do exactly as you're told." She felt a hand on her shoulder, and shrugged it off, not even knowing whose it was.

His eyelids fluttered, as she hoped they would. "I…I'll do my best."

"Do your best to do what?"

"Give Robbie what he wants."

"Give Robbie what he wants, what?"

"Give Robbie what he wants, ma'am."

"Good boy." Molly stepped off his foot and let go of him, and took a few steps back. "Go get it done, I'm sick of looking at you."

He nodded, and darted off quickly, his face flushing red.

Molly felt the stares of the group on her. She turned to them with an embarrassed smile. "I wasn't actually, like, torturing him. In my world, he liked girls standing above him and telling him what to do sometimes. I was hoping this James would, too, and if he did I figured I could catch him off guard and subconsciously make him more willing to do what we needed him to do."

She saw River's eyebrows raise. "So…kink saves the day?"

"I guess so," Molly shrugged. "I told Robbie I knew how to get James to do what I want. I'm just glad it worked."

In the next hour, it was all settled. Robbie was promised his demands, and he released the hostages and surrendered. He was brought to the van in handcuffs, though when Molly waved, he gave her a smile and a nod.

It felt strange, to just turn and walk away. But their work was done.

As they made their way down the sidewalk, Molly slowed to walk beside the Doctor, who was behind everyone. "How are we getting home?" Because, after all, the TARDIS was her home.

"While you were inside, I told James Oliver to give me a few Time Vortex Manipulators, and told him I'd return them to the agency when we were back at the TARDIS." He walked a few more steps before adding, "I want to stop by for a visit, anyway."

Something in his voice told her it wasn't a social visit. "Before we go, there's something I'd like to do."

"What is it?"

"I want to stay for Robbie's mom's funeral, if you're okay with that."

He watched her for a few more steps, then smiled. "That sounds like a good plan."

Amy turned her head to look at them. "We'll stay for it, too. Besides, it'll give us all more time together."

"I'm in," volunteered River.

"Me, too," added Jack.

"Do human funerals ever have explosions?" Strax wanted to know. "Sontarans don't have funerals, but we do blow up the bodies of those who failed to die in battle."

"Uh, no. No, there are no explosions," Rory said. "We just sort of sit and remember them before burying them."

"Sounds terrible," said Strax. "But I've known Madame Vastra and Jenny to attend them anyway."

The others continued to talk as they walked down the road, but the Doctor and Molly fell a few steps behind. The Doctor nudged her with an elbow. "See?"

"See what?"

"You're good at plans, too."

The funeral was the next day. As promised, Robbie wasn't in chains for it. And James hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that Eileen had been well-loved; it looked like the entire building showed up. The little church was almost overwhelmed with mourners. People brought flowers, some real, some made of folded newspaper.

Their group – everyone, including a veiled Vastra – stood in the back, and listened to the speakers talking about Eileen's heart of gold, and amazing work ethic, and how good she was with all the children. There were a few hymns, to which Molly mouthed the words 'watermelon, cheese and crackers', remembering when she'd been forced to take choir and the girl beside her told her that mouthing those words would make it look like she was singing along.

After, Molly stood in the back of the long line of people to wish Robbie well. It was miserable, to see all these people tell him how much they appreciated him taking care of his mother, and how they hoped he had a good life, and they'd see him around sometimes, and not knowing he was about to spend possibly decades in prison. Maybe more. Molly hoped less.

Finally, the rest of the crowd was gone, save a couple men standing behind Robbie, who she assumed were Time Agents. Molly stepped up and offered her hand. "It was a beautiful service, Robbie," she said, repeating what the dozen or so mourners had said to her at her mother's funeral, when Aunt Loren insisted on a Christian funeral. Of course, her mother had needed a closed casket, too.

"Thank you," said Robbie, taking her hand. "It's really kind of you to come. You didn't need to."

"I wanted to," said Molly. She stepped aside and gestured to the rest of the group. "These are my friends, otherwise known as the group that was chasing you."

"You're all difficult to dodge," Robbie complimented them. "Thanks for coming."

"We all thought we should," replied the Doctor, also offering his hand.

Partway through the handshake, Robbie frowned. "You're the Doctor, aren't you?"

"I am, yes."

Robbie shook his head, and a slow smile spread across his face. "She told me she was traveling with a recreational time traveler. I should have known it was you." He released the Doctor's hand. "If I'd known the Doctor was on my trail, I'd have given up sooner. Not much point in running from you."

The Doctor grinned. "Gave us all a good chase, though." His face turned more solemn. "I am sorry. So very sorry. I wish we could have done more."

Robbie shrugged. "S'alright. You got me more than I thought I'd get. And maybe I'll feel better, facing justice for what I did to my Pa. Thinking about it, I probably could have stopped him without…" He seemed uncomfortable saying the word 'kill' in a church. "Anyway. Thanks for helping me out."

The others stepped forward with their own well-wishes, their own apologies. Even Strax shook his hand and thanked him for the hunt.

When that was finished, they all went back to the hotel, gathered their things, and checked out. Jack said a short goodbye to them all, and left to make a note of the agency's corruption with Torchwood and UNIT, though the Doctor told him not to worry about it.

The Doctor led them to an abandoned building to make their departure less conspicuous, and handed out the Manipulators, programmed to bring them all back to the TARDIS. Of course, some of them didn't get a Manipulator.

The Doctor was taking his turn holding Arty, bouncing him and telling him a Gallifreyan story.

"Zagreus sits inside your head; Zagreus lives among the dead; Zagreus sees you in your bed, and eats you when you're sleeping. Zagreus at the end of days; Zagreus lies all other ways; Zagreus comes when time's a maze, and all of history is weeping."

"I'm not sure that's exactly a fun nursery rhyme," commented Amy with a smile.

"Oh, you're one to talk," the Doctor said dismissively. "Your children's stories and songs are all about plagues and curses and murder and wolves eating people up."

"You have a point, there," Amy admitted. "Apparently, people like telling kids scary stories, no matter what planet they're growing up on."

The Doctor smiled in response, and kissed the side of Arty's head. "You be good, now. Grow up as brave as your mum and dad, hey?" He offered Arty back to Amy, who settled him back into his stroller.

The Doctor looked from Amy to Rory, and back again. "You could come with, you know. I could take you back now." But he said it as though he already knew the answer.

Amy and Rory looked at each other, both with a sort of sad expression in their eyes. Somehow, they silently decided that it would be Rory who disappointed the Doctor. "We know. We talked about it. But we…we really like our lives here, now."

"We love you," said Amy. "And we miss you. You know that. But we've adjusted to the time period, and we've made friends, and love our work. Rory's more modern medical education has helped him in his career a lot. And I like my publishing business, and I like writing. I could do that back there, I know, but…"

"You have a home here now," the Doctor finished for her. "I had to ask." He set a hand on each of their shoulders, as he had in the graveyard just before they died. "I'm very proud of you both, you know. Not everyone could have adjusted the way you did, starting from nothing. And you made yourself a family, too. You both did so well. I'm glad I got to see it."

"We're so glad we got to see you again," said Amy, moving in to hug him tight. He did the same, pressing his head into her shoulder for a brief moment. "My Raggedy Doctor."

The Doctor had a smile on his face that was part sadness, part fond remembrance, as he pulled away. "Amelia Pond. The girl who waited, with the fairytale name. You got your happy ending."

"I did," Amy agreed, nodding, quickly wiping a tear off her face. She reached up to straighten his bowtie. "You know what? I think I like it now. It might be a little, tiny bit cool."

The Doctor grinned. "I told you!" He turned to Rory. "You know I missed both of you, terribly."

"I know," said Rory. "I missed you, too, Doctor. I'm glad you jumped out of that cake at my bachelor party." Rory and the Doctor ignored Amy's expression of embarrassment. "We had some great adventures together, and I'll never forget them. More importantly, we helped people. I'm really grateful for you, Doctor."

"And I'm grateful for you, Rory. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Well, of course you couldn't," Rory responded, but while Molly was sure he meant it mostly, there was an undertone of a joke.

"No, really," insisted the Doctor, his voice softer now. "I couldn't."

The moment to say goodbye had come, and no one seemed to want to admit it. To buy them a little time, Molly stepped forward, to shake Rory's hand. "It was really nice to meet you, Rory. You were always one of my favorites."

"Was I?" asked Rory, sounding flattered. "Well, thanks. I liked you a lot, too. It's been really nice meeting you, in, you know…reality."

After their handshake, Molly turned to Amy, who immediately seized her in a hug. "I'm really glad he has you. Take care of him."

"I'll do my best," Molly promised.

She pulled away, and took a few steps back to give them some distance. Vashta, Jenny, and Strax had already said goodbye, and were waiting a few feet away. River stood closer, though she hadn't said her own goodbyes, yet.

"I guess it's time." Rory set a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "Goodbye, son." Though he'd said it seriously, he wasn't able to keep a straight face for more than a half a second. "No, that's too weird, even as a joke."

"I am older than you again," replied the Doctor, also looking a little weirded out by the reminder that he was, technically, Rory's son-in-law. But he also had a smile. "Bye, Rory. Maybe I'll see you around again. You never know."

Amy threw her arms around the Doctor again. "You better be safe, Doctor. As safe as you ever are, anyway. I'll kill you if you get killed."

"I know you would."

Amy wasn't ready to let go yet. "Thanks for being my best friend."

"You, too, Amelia," replied the Doctor. "The first face this face saw. I got lucky."

"So did we," Amy said. She held him tighter for a moment, and finally let go.

The Doctor saw Amy's wipe more tears away, and shook his head. "No. Don't cry, Amy. You'll get me started."

"Shut up," replied Amy, but she smiled. "Goodbye, Doctor. Don't forget how much we love you."

"I won't, so long as you don't forget how much I love you both."

Molly turned and joined Strax, Jenny and Vashta, so they didn't have to see her crying, too, and so she didn't have to watch them leave.

But she heard River when she told the Doctor, "I'm going to stick around for a bit. Spend some time with them. Get to know my baby brother."

"Well then," she heard the Doctor say. "Until next time, dear."

"See you around, sweetie." Next came the sound of someone turning on their feet. "Molly."

Molly quickly blinked the tears away, and turned with a smile. "River?"

"I'll see you next time, too, apparently," River said with a smile.

Molly grinned. "And maybe I'll bump into you again."

"Stick with him, and it's inevitable," said River, motioning to the Doctor with a glance. She gave a wave to the group. "This was fun. We should do it again."

The Doctor watched the Ponds leave, and stood still a long moment after the door closed. Then he turned to the rest.

"Well," said the Doctor. "Let's get everyone back where they belong, shall we?"

Jenny held on to Vashta's arm, and they disappeared, and shortly after, Strax followed.

"You okay?" Molly asked the Doctor, now they were alone together.

He took a second to think about it. "Yes. Yes, actually. More than okay," he said, with a smile. "I'm grand. Sad to see them go, but happy that they're happy, and that I got to say a proper goodbye. This feels like closure. I don't always have that. Again, I can't thank you enough for this."

Molly smiled. "I'm really glad you're okay. Or…grand."

The Doctor wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Well. Hold on tight."

"The tunnel again," Molly groaned, wrapping her arms around his middle as she felt his arm around her shoulders draw her in closer.

"The tunnel again."

The goodbyes with Vashta, Jenny, and Strax were less emotional. The Doctor promised to stop by the next time he had an adventure in the area or time period, even if it wasn't with that face. Molly told them how great it was to see them in person, and they seemed pleased that she was the one traveling with the Doctor now.

Molly was grateful when they stepped back into the TARDIS, alone this time. This had been a long, trying adventure, and one that left her feeling like the scabs over her emotional wounds had been torn away, and she was bleeding. But maybe this time, they'd heal fully, leaving a proper scar rather than a fragile layer of skin over them.

The Doctor was beside the console, putting in new coordinates already. "Time to pay the agency a little visit," he said, his voice again implying the threat.

"What are you going to do?"

"You did your bit. This one's mine," he said. "Erase their records. Set every Time Vortex Manipulator to send everyone wearing it back to their home time, just after they left, and then short out. See if I can get their headquarters sold out from under them." He glanced over at her. "No more Time Agency."

It was extreme. But that was the Doctor. Besides, "That sounds fair, after what they did. Will the agents be okay?"

"Yeah. I'll have Jack look in on them," replied the Doctor, as the TARDIS began to move. Molly reached out and grabbed the hand bar nearest her as quickly as she could. "Coming with, I assume?"

Molly waited until the TARDIS had settled to speak. "No, actually."

The Doctor turned to her with concern. "Why not?" She sighed, and moved to stand closer to him. She didn't know how to begin to explain the feelings in her chest, or the words in her head. His concern deepened. "Are you…thinking about leaving?"

"No," replied Molly, laughing a little with surprise. "No, don't be ridiculous."

"Then what's wrong?"

She curled a strand of hair around her finger and tugged on it a few times, before dropping her hand back to her sides when she finally knew what to say to explain it all in one sentence. "It wasn't my fault."

He looked at her with that expression of concern another moment, before it melted away to something more like relief. "No. It wasn't." He knew exactly what she was talking about. Because of course he did.

Molly nodded, and then wrapped her arms around his middle again, her body bent some so she could press her face against his chest. She thought she would cry. But it seemed all she really wanted was to feel his arms wrap around her, as they did a moment later. She felt a hand go into her hair at the back of her head, gently pushing her a little closer. And she felt his cheek lay across the top of her head. She took a few deep breaths, breathing in the smell of mint and honey. A scent she might now forever associate with healing, with comfort, in the same way she'd always associated the color emerald green with those things. That was why she dressed in it. It felt like maybe it wasn't a coincidence that this man who had brought her so much of both was now dressed in the color, too.

Molly knew she'd been holding on to him for a little too long, but she wasn't ready for it to end. "Don't let go yet," she asked, her voice muffled against his waistcoat.

"I won't," the Doctor promised. "I won't let go of you. Not until you're ready to step away from me."

She clung tightly to him for a long time, the pressure of his arm around her, the feel of his hand buried in her hair, the touch of his head on top of hers soothing the sting of the scab being torn away. It felt so good, just to be held that tightly, and yet that gently. Better than anything she could think of. It was difficult for her to finally realize she needed to step away. There was more to healing than comfort.

She swallowed hard, and leaned back, signaling to the Doctor that she was ready to step away. "Thanks," she whispered. "I needed that."

"Anytime," he said. He paused. "I needed it, too."

She smiled. "Anytime."

The corner of his mouth turned up a little, but he said nothing else. She stared up into his green eyes, and he stared down into her blue. She turned her head a little to look at the TARDIS light, shifting in hues of blue-green. She'd missed it.

When she looked back at him, he was still staring. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Staring."

"Right," he said, quickly looking away. "So. I'll head out to take care of this, and be right back."

"I'm gonna go lay down," she replied. "I need a few minutes. Or maybe a nap. Or maybe just to sleep. Someone woke me up before the sun rose."

"Sounds like a madman," he replied.

She chuckled, shoving him playfully. "He absolutely is."

As the Doctor left the TARDIS, Molly went up the stairs, and back to her room. She closed the door with a soft sigh, pulled off the 40s dress and shoes, and changed back into the oversized red shirt she'd been wearing when she first arrived. She paused a moment to press a hand against the wall and tell the TARDIS she'd missed her, and then turned back to the bed and collapsed on it.

Anger and guilt and self-hatred made a strong wall against grief and pain. But there was more to healing than comfort.

Molly took a deep breath, and knocked the wall down.