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justviwriting · 1 year

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'Amy's Christmas'

Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Amy Pond, Rory Williams, River Song, Eleventh Doctor (mentioned) Pairing: Amy/Rory Rating: G Words: 6.785 Summary: Amy writing down a story about all the different Christmases of her life. A/N: In 2021 I had the idea for a Christmas oneshot about Amy but I didn’t finish it in time to post it before/during Christmas so I decided to wait until next year. Obviously, I completely forgot about it lmao. And because I know I’ll probably forget again, I finished writing it and decided to share it now so it won’t die in my drafts. It’s a bit sad towards the end, just as a warning. Also, because the story is switching between tenses (and English isn’t my first language) I probably made some mistakes along the was ‘cause it got confusing, but I hope it doesn’t disrupt the story :)

[you can also read it on AO3]

I would like to tell you a story. A Christmas story. Not about a particular Christmas but about the many Christmases throughout my life. You might wonder how this could be an interesting story, but I have realised just recently that perhaps, the Christmases I have celebrated, and even the ones I haven’t, present the best way to but the insanity of my life into one short tale. Ever since I have started writing and publishing those stories you have probably read, I have told you, the reader, how many of those are not as fictional as they might seem. So, I wanted to share the story of my life. Now is perhaps the best time to do this.

When I was a child, Christmas had never been something I had looked forward to. I never hated the holidays but I never shared the excitement and joy all the other kids felt when Christmas approached either. For one, because I only ever had one wish, and that was for the Doctor to come back and take me on adventures through space and time, and with every Christmas that passed, I had less and less hope that he would actually return for me. So, no matter what gifts Aunt Sharon bought me, I never felt as happy as I should have been.

The lack of joy around Christmas was not just caused by my wish to see the Doctor again, though. There had always been an odd sadness rising inside of me every year, a sadness one should probably not feel as a little girl who had enjoyed a rather sheltered life at this point. A hollow sadness born from a distant memory of happy, bright Christmases that had been long gone.

I didn’t remember much about Christmas with my parents. Only a few memories had stayed with me in the back of my mind, like the smell of the vanilla scented candles my mother had put all around the house. And that old, worn-out star my dad had tried to put on top of the Christmas tree every year, hoping it would survive another. But really, that was it. I had been very young when my parents had died, or so I believed. I didn’t know how young, but I couldn’t remember when it had happened. Every year throughout my childhood, I continued to ask Aunt Sharon about our Christmases together with my parents, but for some reason she never wanted to tell me, even though I could see the same sorrow I had always felt inside me in her eyes as well. Still, she placed the few scented candles that still lay hidden in one of the drawers around the house, and also put the star on top of the Christmas tree, but only because I insisted. That was the first Christmas I properly remembered. The Christmas after I had met the Doctor for the first time. It had only been me, Aunt Sharon, and the dying star on top of the Christmas tree.

The year after that, Aunt Sharon had decided it would be fun to visit my relatives in Scotland during the Christmas time, so we wouldn’t be all alone on Christmas Eve again. I had not particularly looked forward to it, because I had known that I would be the only child there, and it was as insanely boring as I had dreaded. Before we left for the holidays, I had written a letter addressed to the Doctor and put it on the kitchen table, just in case he would finally come back, so he would know where to find me. I hadn’t given up hope yet that he might return and pick me up at any point. After all, he had promised. And I trusted him. To me, he was a friend, someone who wouldn’t lie.

To avoid the utter boredom of Christmas with my relatives the next year, I had spent the months before trying to convince Aunt Sharon to have my best friend Mels come join us.

“Please,” I had told her then, again and again. “I’m the only kid there. It’s boring. I need a friend with me.”

“I understand that,” Aunt Sharon had explained, “but can’t you pick someone else? That girl is only trouble. And God knows you’re already getting in enough trouble on your own.”

“Everyone else has a family to celebrate with,” I had continued persistently. “Mels doesn’t have any parents. She’s all alone. On Christmas. That’s not fair.”

Eventually, I had convinced her. Perhaps, in the end, she actually felt sorry for Mels, though she would never admit that to me.

Naturally, that Christmas was way more fun than all the one before – or at least the ones I could remember at that point. Every year, I had to convince Aunt Sharon again to take Mels with us, and every year I succeeded. When we were twelve years old, Mels had come up with the idea to give the Doctor a message. Next to the ancient house we were staying at, there was a huge corn field, covered in snow, so Mels had told me that if we dug through the snow to form the word Doctor, perhaps he would see it from outer space. So, we spent that entire Christmas on our message for the Doctor, ignoring my aunt’s pleas to come back inside. Sadly, however, he still didn’t show up, though I could have sworn that night I had heard the noise of that big blue box he travelled in.

As I grew older, I had stopped thinking about the Doctor. Well, that wasn’t completely true, but I had simply stopped trying to reach him, never giving up that small hope that he might return at some point. However, at some point, I had started to think that perhaps he had, in fact, just been part of my imagination. Somewhere deep inside me I had always known that wasn’t true, but it had been better to tell myself this than to keep waiting. And it made my aunt very happy, who, I believe, had been rather worried for my mental health.

Mels, however, was not tired of waiting. Sadly, she would not meet him when he did finally come for me. The Doctor did return, like he had said he would, just twelve years later than he had intended. He saved the entire world from aliens that tried to blow it up, then left again. As before, I waited for his return, but this time I stopped waiting early enough.

There was no Mels that Christmas after the Doctor, as she had ended up in prison, like I had always assumed she would. Instead of visiting my relatives, now nineteen-year-old me spent her Christmas by paying Mels a visit. She was the only person I could freely talk with about the Doctor. While aunt Sharon had seen the giant alien eyeball at the sky back then, she didn’t believe me actually meeting the Doctor. She had told me it had all been in my imagination, in a moment of fear, where an old childhood friend had come back to save me. She didn’t believe Rory either, because she had never taken him seriously regarding anything. Rory, my childhood friend and at that time boyfriend, also would rather forget what had happened. Well, the first days, even weeks, we had talked about nothing but the Doctor and the crazy events that had taken place, but then he had moved on. So Mels, mad at missing the Doctor, would keep asking me any sort of questions that Christmas. And I had to promise her, should the Doctor return, we would break her out and take her on adventures.

The Christmas after that, I also visited Mels – no words of the Doctor – and then spent Christmas Eve with Rory and his family. After I had told him I had no intention to visit my family this year, again, he had kept insisting on spending it with his family instead. Eventually, I had given in. I had always liked his family, they had always been friendly to me, but sometimes too friendly, too shallow in their conversations but at the same time too intrusive in their questions.

Before the dinner started, Rory pulled me aside, walking with me into the kitchen. I can still remember every little detail about that moment. The smell of the burned turkey, the slightly opened window to clear the smoke-filled air, and Rory’s very nervous, almost frightened face.

“Okay…so, there’s something…” He was taking several deep breaths in order to calm down, although that had rarely ever helped him calm his nerves. Had I not known him, I would have believed something terrible had happened. “You know,” he continued, “I was a bit annoying about you spending time with my family this year.”

“Yeah,” I simply replied.

“Well … there’s a reason for that,” he told me, his voice trembling more with every word spoken. “Something I wanted to do, but now … now I’m not sure how and when and…” He trailed off in his rambling.

“Rory,” I said then, laughing. “Take a deep breath and then tell me what you want to tell me.”

Another deep breath followed, and then he reached into the pocket of his jeans. The moment he took out a small box, exactly the size for a ring to fit in, the insides of my stomach started to turn, and for a short second I was not sure whether the cause had been joy or fear. When he opened it, and I saw the ring, I remember gasping slightly, but the feeling of fear had left me completely in that moment. He stood in front of me with the ring in his hand, which had been shaking so much, I was scared he might drop it, so I carefully took his hand into mine.

“I wanted to ask you, if you … if you want to marry me,” he said then. He had been looking at me the entire time, partly scared, partly hopeful, and so completely with love that I forgot to breathe for a second. However, his eyes had left mine then, looking down, as he said, “You know, I wanted to do it at dinner, properly, but then I thought … if you said no, that would be bad. And I didn’t want you to say yes just because you felt sorry for me, so I-“ He kept rambling on, looking at the floor, so in order to make him look up again – and also to shut him up - I had then taken his face into my hands, and once his eyes, still full of love and hope, had reached mine, I pulled him closer to kiss him.

“So…is that a yes?” Rory asked then as I pulled back, but leaving my hands around his neck, carefully caressing his hair. His hesitation and uncertainty made me realise then that perhaps my face was not showing my feelings properly, so I put on the brightest smile when I said, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” I laughed, kissing him again.

We redid the proposal during dinner, and everyone was happy for us, obviously.

Among the laughter, childhood stories of us and champagne bottles, I suddenly came to the realisation that I was now an engaged woman. Not the little girl anymore. Not the girl who had spent hours sitting on the windowsill, looking out at the stars, waiting for the Doctor to come back. And who needed a Doctor when there was a Rory anyway?

But then, one night, I was awakened by a noise I never thought I would hear again. He had come back for me. Two years later, the Doctor came back. And I joined him. Forgetting about Rory, forgetting about Mels, I went on adventures with him. It was a childhood dream coming true, until the Doctor woke me up. He made the decision to take Rory with us, which, in retrospective, was the best decision he could’ve made. Well, there was that bit were Rory had died, but he came back to life, somehow. Most of you who are reading this probably know this story already, as I have written a whole novel about it – and yes, the story is true. But to summarise for everyone who is in the dark: We saved the entire universe and reset the timeline. Suddenly, I had parents. My parents never died, you see. They had been erased from time. And I brought them back to life. Like I had done with Rory before. Just my will against the universe. Not trying to boast here but that is pretty cool.

Anyways, suddenly there was that insane maze of memories inside my head. I remembered all my life, all the Christmases, with and without my parents. Suddenly, the scented candles had never left. Suddenly, Mels had spent Christmas at our house. Suddenly, Rory had proposed in front of my family, not his. But I still remembered the other Christmases as well. Like I said, a maze. Two different lives, but both real.

Then, we missed Christmas 2010. Weird to think about this now. I missed a whole Christmas. Not by not taking part in it, but by literally not being on Earth during that time. After mine and Rory’s wedding, we had left with the Doctor. Several months of traveling later, he dropped us off in February 2011. So, no Christmas. There was a Christmas 2012 though. But before I can get into that, there is some more backstory, because otherwise it would be way to insane to tell.

Now, this is a story I have never told before – or at least have never written about. And you will probably see why in a second.

I was pregnant which I had not known for a long time, because after the Doctor had dropped me and Rory off back on Earth, I had been kidnapped by some people calling themselves the Silence, which I can’t even remember ever happening. And I had been replaced by something called a Flesh, which is basically a clone, except that it only existed through my mental connection. So, I was in this place called Demon’s Run, somewhere in the future in space, but it felt like I was with the Doctor the entire time, going on adventures with him and Rory.

The connection between me and my clone had eventually been broken by the Doctor and I found myself at that place, pregnant, with contractions, giving birth … If you think that sounds bad, I can tell you it felt a hundred times worse than you could ever imagine. Which is why I have never written this story down before, and I why won’t go into details now either. Some things are better left unsaid.

What is important is that I had a child, a beautiful daughter called Melody, that I love with all my heart, despite everything that had happened. And then … then she had been taken away from me, kidnapped and raised as an assassin, raised to kill the Doctor.

And that girl turned out to be my friend, Mels, and she also was my other friend, River. Yes, I know, but stay with me. I had met my child several times throughout my life, without ever realising. First, by growing up with her, as my best friend Mels. Then, later, as a friend of the Doctor’s, taking part in some of our adventures, where she had also become my close friend. I know, that sounds confusing. Again, believe me, it’s even worse than it sounds. But it all turned out okay, eventually. I never saw Mels again, except for that time she had died and regenerated into River and then tried to kill the Doctor … But I met River again many more times. I never saw my baby again. I do love River with all my heart, however. And that is something.

So, at some point after all of that, the Doctor dropped me and Rory off back on Earth. He had bought us a new place, and Rory a car he loved, and we should’ve been happy, but I knew that this would be the last time I’d see the Doctor. The thing is, we had seen him die. A future version of him. And I knew that he knew. He had dropped us off to say goodbye.

Thankfully, River was there. A slightly older version of her. A version that had already lived through all this craziness a long time ago. She was there for us during that difficult time and also during Christmas as well. A few times I had tried talking to her about the Doctor, about his death, but I could never quite bring myself to do so. Rory was the one who had connected the dots; who had figured out that it would be her – our baby, our friend – who would kill the Doctor. I knew that it would have never been her intention. I knew she loved him. But it made sense that she would be the one, disguised in a space suit, killing him.

Then, the summer afterwards, I had woken up with a whole new bunch of memories buzzing inside my head, about a time that never was. A wedding between River and the Doctor in a weird, timeless place that resembled Earth, but not truly. Rory didn’t remember anything, but I realised what it was almost immediately: an alternative timeline. The Doctor had died. River had killed him, but only because he had insisted … After they had been married. Confusing again, I know, but at this point I couldn’t stop myself anymore: I invited River over, because I needed her in that moment. I told her about the Doctor’s death, and honestly, I was more than glad I had finally done so, after months of keeping my feelings and thoughts shut inside my head. Not only because it had helped unburden my heart, but mainly because she had intrusted me with a secret. A secret, I probably should not write out right now, but really, I doubt the Silence or anyone else of interest would read this story, so here it goes: He didn’t die. He was alive. He had faked his death, and River had always known.

River spent the next Christmas with us again. We waited for the Doctor to perhaps join us, but he didn’t come. Still, we had a beautiful time together.

Then, the next Christmas, he finally paid us a visit, had finally found the courage to tell us he wasn’t actually dead. I’m thankful River had told us before, because I would have most definitely punched him in the face otherwise. River joined us later, and we spent another beautiful Christmas together.

The year after that was the invasion of the cubes, another story I have published before. The Doctor had been gone for a while and didn’t come to visit us for Christmas, but River did, again. This time it was a younger River, so we had to be careful what we were talking about with her around, so to not share any accidental spoilers of her life. Overall, we still had a lot of fun. Well, until Rory’s dad came over.

He had entered, just rambling on about the weather outside, as if we had been expecting him. “So, are your parents coming, Amy? Oh, hello,” he added then, when he noticed River.

“Hello, I’m Brian.”

For a moment, every single one of us, even River, was speechless due to his sudden arrival.

“This is River,” I told him eventually. “She’s … she’s a friend of ours.” If River was in any way offended by my words, she didn’t let it show. She just smiled and reached out a hand to Brian, greeting him. “And no, my parents won’t come over,” I said then. “We’ll visit them tomorrow.”

“Oh, really?” Brian asked. “I know, I haven’t been in touch much with your family, but I’m ready to make changes. You know, spending Christmas alone isn’t really my thing anymore. Why don’t you invite them over? If they don’t have any other plans, of course.”

I was certain that, would I ask my parents, they would surely join us, but for a moment I thought that perhaps I should just tell him that they did, in fact, have plans of their own. We had kept declining their attempts to invite themselves to our Christmas celebrations, because we simply preferred spending time with River and the Doctor on Christmas Eve. It had become some kind of tradition, at least with River, and it was nice to have some structure and certainty in the otherwise uncertain life we led. And in our minds, all of them in one room had not appeared to be a good idea.

Still, I felt somewhat sorry for Brian, and I also knew that we would not be able to get rid of him either way, so I just said, “Sure, I’ll give them a call.”

After he had left to put the presents he had brought under the Christmas tree, River turned around to us, still a smile on her face. “I think it’s probably the best if I leave then.”

“No, stay,” I told her sincerely.

“I doubt that’s the best idea,” she replied, smiling.

“We don’t have to invite them over,” Rory said immediately. “My dad is fine on his own.”

River, shaking her head, replied, “You should be with your family. I have this,” she pointed at her vortex manipulator. “I can have Christmas whenever I want.”

She left shortly after that, and we spent Christmas with our family. Well, our other family. Or part of our family. Another part was missing.

After that Christmas, I made a decision. I had always known it wouldn’t be easy to tell my family about anything surrounding the Doctor. They had kept asking, and I had usually avoided their questions, but it was time to tell them the most important story of all.

I wasn’t even sure if I had never told them about River – Melody – because I knew they’d have a hard time understanding it, or because I was afraid of talking about it. About making it real. Somehow, in my mind, I could always separate those different people - Melody, Mels, River. I knew they were the same, but my relationship with them was different. Melody was the baby I had lost. Mels was the childhood friend I knew I would never see again. And River was the present, was one of my best friends, but she was neither Melody nor Mels, not really. I knew it wasn’t different for River. She had always known I was her mother, whenever she had met me previously, while I had been unaware. And sometimes I wondered whether she wanted me to be that person - her mother. She never said it, though, not even implied it. When she called me ‘mother’, it was usually in a less serious way, often jokingly. But I was her mother. And it was time that my parents knew that, too.

So, some time in November, Rory and I gathered my parents and his dad around in our living room. I had never been this nervous in my life before – and that said a lot. I was happy that Rory had been next to me, I’m sure I’d have never gone through with it if it wasn’t for him.

Then we told them. All of it.

Brian took it fairly well. I guess he had seen enough insanity in recent times. My parents needed a second. My dad continued calling me every day after that, always with a new reassuring message, that he loved me and wanted to meet River. My mum took a bit longer. I think she was a slightly scared. But as Christmas rolled around, and River appeared, my mum was suddenly smiling. This time, we were all together … well, except for one person.

Now, the Doctor had kept visiting us, and he had continued to take us on adventures, after letting us know he was not really dead, but he wasn’t there for Christmas. So, River had promised us to get him next time.

And then there it was. Christmas 2016. River appeared, the Doctor at her side. My parents were there, Rory’s dad was with them. A true family Christmas. If only we had known it would be the last.

Really, in a way, it’s beautiful. We didn’t know at that time, but we made that last Christmas memorable. Back then, I had hoped for more Christmases like that. A naïve way to think when you travel with the Doctor.

Rory and I had been sent back in time by a Weeping Angel. 1938 to be exact. None of our parents were even born yet and we were stuck in New York City. Where we also had to die. Or Rory did. Because I had seen his gravestone, which was the reason why the Doctor couldn’t come and get us. He would create a paradox, on top of several more paradoxes we had already created during that time, which, according to his words, could blow up New York. I had chosen to be here. My name had never been on that gravestone, but I hoped it was now.

That first Christmas we spent in a tiny, mouldy flat. It was cold, but we made due. Rory continued working as a nurse. Well, there was a world war about to happen, so there would be more than enough work for him to do.

That Christmas, however, we received a special gift. The manuscript to a book. A book River had written about our adventures in New York, right before the Angels had sent us back. A book, I had already read in some parts, because we had seen it before. Attached to it was a letter by River, which I still have with me. The paper now shines in a yellow hue, and the writing has faded slightly, but it’s still perfectly readable.

Dear Amy and Rory,

I’m sorry I have to contact you like this. I know I could come and visit you. I really could. Just using my vortex manipulator, I could go and talk to you, spend more time with you. I wanted to do it, but I decided against it. And please don’t take this the wrong way. I want to see you, more than anything, but I’m also afraid. Afraid, that the temptation would be too great. Could either of you, or me, really resist the possibility of getting you out of there? You know, I could get you back, right now. Back to your life, to your family. But then, we would risk a paradox, might risk the lives of thousand and millions of people. And in all honesty, I can’t tell you what way I would decide if I saw you, so I chose to stay where I am.

The Doctor is fine. I’m with him right now. He’ll be okay, and I hope you are too. I really hope you both are together, and are happy and love each other. That is all that matters. I sent you the manuscript to that damned book. I’ve finished writing it, but I need someone to publish it. I know you kept talking about writing books, Amy, even if you’ve never seriously considered it before. Now, I know that this is my story, but perhaps it can get you a foot in the door. When you get it published, please add an afterword, for the Doctor. He misses you and I feel like he would listen to you, so please tell him what he needs to hear.

I miss you, too. I wish I could come and see you, but I already told you why I can’t do so. However, if you want to talk to me, write me a letter, I attached an address. Please don’t come and visit it. I probably won’t be there either way, but I’ll check the mailbox every now and then, so you can send me letters from your time. Perhaps we can stay in touch that way.

I love you,

Melody

I had actually published the book. It took a while, but eventually I had found a publisher. And it became a bestseller. I’m also assuming you’ve read said book, if you’re reading this one now. So, yeah, the events were real, written out of the perspective of my daughter. We had also kept in touch with River through letters. We understood why she could not visit us, and we were not mad at her at all, because we, too, would probably take the opportunity to get out.

Several Christmases came and went now. No time traveling and missing Christmases and waiting for the Doctor anymore. That was in the past. Instead, we just lived our lives. Rory continued his work in the medical field, and I kept writing stories. Stories about our adventures with the Doctor. Some were a bit exaggerated, I admit, but for the most part it really was that crazy.

Then, in 1946, Rory and I decided to adopt a baby boy. We named him Anthony, and that Christmas we spent with our new, two-year-old son. We had always wanted more children, but after what had happened to me at Demon’s Run, sadly I couldn’t get pregnant anymore. Due to our insane and occasionally quite dangerous life, however, we had decided against adoption, as we were afraid, even if we did not travel with the Doctor anymore, that this part of our life would still eventually catch up with us. But now, that part was gone. Our family was gone, but we built a new one.

As the years went by, and our calm and happy life continued, things started to get a little more difficult again. Both, me and Rory, realised we were entering a weird time. For once, our parents had been born. They lived now, the same time we did. It was hard to resist the urge to go and visit them. But really, what should we tell them? And then there was 1969. We knew we had been there, in Florida and Washington. Our younger versions. Me, pregnant, not knowing yet. The Doctor. River. And then we realised River wasn’t just there once, but twice.

River had told us a bit about her childhood. She had said she couldn’t remember much, but I remembered her saying she regenerated as a little girl in New York in 1970. So, when that year arrived, I started looking for her. Rory had told me that it was a foolish thing too do, that the city was big and that I would only be devastated should I not find her, but I didn’t care. I kept looking. And eventually, I found a little girl.

She was about three or four, lost in the streets, but weirdly smart. She could communicate with me well, not like you would expect from a child that age. But that wasn’t what made me sure it was her. I just knew.

When I had taken her home, Rory wasn’t immediately convinced.

“What’s your name?” I eventually asked her, when I realised I hadn’t done so before. I had been so certain it was here that it had never even occurred to me to ask.

“Melody,” the girl replied. Then, as my heart made a jump, I saw Rory turning completely white. I went to give Melody something to eat in kitchen before I went back to the living room, where Rory still stood in shock.

“Don’t you see?” I said, tears in my eyes. “River told us about that old married couple taking her in back in New York. Now look at us,” I added. We were both well into our sixties now. Obviously, I looked better than him, but still, for a little girl we were both pretty old. “We were that old couple.”

Now, the tears also appeared in Rory’s eyes. “We can’t…”

“Of course we can,” I said. “We’ve already done it.”

It took a while to convince Rory, but eventually we decided to take care of her. We found a nice orphanage for her to live in, because we knew she couldn’t stay with us, as River had told us so, but every weekend she visited, and every Christmas we celebrated together. Me, Rory, Melody and Anthony. This was our family now, and the many Christmases we spent together made me almost forget the life we had before. Seventeen years of Christmas like this, until 1988. That was the year Rory died. He died the year he was born. The thing is, I had always known it would happen soon. I had remembered the age on Rory’s gravestone. Somehow, I had hoped I would die before him. Both, Anthony and Melody, were grown now. They didn’t need me anymore. But here I was, no Rory, just me and our children, one not knowing she was our child.

We had eventually told Anthony everything, including who Melody was. Despite us adopting him later in our lives, he was older than her and even though she didn’t know it, he cared for her like an older brother would. And we kept spending Christmas together, although times changed. Anthony had gotten married and I now had a granddaughter. Rory never met her, but he had known that she was on her way, so that was something. He knew we had a grandchild.

Now Anthony had another family, and while he spent Christmas with his in-laws, I decided to stay with Melody. Just like Mels and River, Melody had already decided to get herself into a lot of trouble. I had to keep an eye out for her, but I also didn’t want her to get too attached to me. The 1990s arrived and I knew Melody would soon go and meet my younger self. My younger self, that had just been born, across the sea… I knew I had to let go of her soon, while knowing everything she was about to go through.

Last Christmas I was putting up the decorations, thinking about whether I should encourage Melody to leave, while knowing I could never ever push her away, when someone knocked on the door.

“Did you forget your keys again, Melody?” I mumbled as I walked towards the door. “Or lost them? I swear, if I have to change the lock again, I’ll get you … River!”

I had opened the door and just starred at the person standing in front of me. It was Melody, but not the young version. It was her grown up version. A face I hadn’t seen in decades.

She just stared at me too, before a careful smile appeared on her face and she said, “Hello, Amy.”

I was simply speechless for a moment, at a loss of words like I had never been before. I had been sure that I would never see her again. When I didn’t say anything, River asked, “Is my younger self here or can I come in?”

“Er … no, no, just me. Come in.” I let her through the door and as we walked towards the living room I had just been decorating, I asked, “How do you know you were here as a kid? Did you always know?”

River turned around, still a smile on her lips. “I figured it out when you sent me that letter about adopting Anthony. And I remembered your names were Mr. and Mrs. Williams. That was just too much of a coincidence.”

I sat down with her on the sofa. “I thought you said you couldn’t visit us.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t have my vortex manipulator with me.” She showed me her empty wrist where her vortex usually was attached to. “I hid it away before I came here,” she explained. “I thought, after all those years, you might not want to get back, but I didn’t want to test it.”

I was glad she didn’t. Because, in all honesty, I didn’t know what I would do given the chance. Anthony had his own family, Melody would leave soon, and Rory was gone. It would have been good to see my family again.

“Rory is dead,” I told River then.

“I know,” she said.

“He would’ve loved to meet you again, too,” I said then. It wasn’t meant as an accusation, I was simply curious on why she decided to get here now.

“I know,” she replied with a sigh. “This visit wasn’t planned. I just thought about you both, specifically you, on this Christmas. With Rory gone and my younger self about to leave. Then I decided to get here. Talk with you for a bit, perhaps.” She smiled again, but this time it was a sad smile, and I noticed she started to fumble with the edges of the dress she was wearing, almost as if she were nervous. She rarely ever did that. “And also, I didn’t know whether you knew, but it was you who told my younger self back then to go and find you and Rory. I know I could’ve also told you that in a letter, but…”

“…but you came either way,” I said, smiling. “It’s great to see you again, River.”

We spent the next hours talking in the still not completely decorated living room. I told her all the details about my life in New York that never made it into my letters to her. She told me about what she had been up to lately, told me about my parents which I had asked her to comfort about my absence, and how the Doctor was doing.

Eventually, the door opened and Anthony walked into the living room. “Hey, I just wanted to check in with you and … oh, hello,” he said as he realised that I wasn’t alone.

“Hello, Anthony,” said River and Anthony just stared at her, confused at her for knowing his name.

“Anthony, this is River,” I told him, and slowly I could see the realisation hit him as he looked back and forth between us, stunned.

“River … you mean … Melody?” he asked, now staring at her carefully.

River gave him a smile. “Yes, that is me. But if I remembered correctly,” she added, gazing up at the clock, “I’ll be here soon. So, I’ll have to leave you two alone.” She got up and I walked her to the door, leaving a bewildered Anthony behind.

“You know, I always wondered,” I said then as she walked into the hallway, preparing myself to ask the question I wanted to since River had arrived. “When I got sent back by the Angel … did my name appear on that gravestone next to Rory’s?”

River looked at me, a sadness in her eyes that told me more than she probably wanted to. “Yes,” she said. “If not, I could just take my vortex and get you back to your time.”

“I know. That’s why I asked,” I told her. “You know, I never knew whether it was just Rory, and you simply didn’t visit us because you knew I wouldn’t leave him,” I said. “Now, I believe that also means that you know when I die.”

River’s smile faded. “Yes.”

I just nodded at her, putting a smile on my lips. Her eyes stared at me, with that sadness again, and even though I now looked noticeably older than her, I knew she was probably far higher age that I was. Her eyes had started to resemble more and more the way the Doctor used to look at me. All that age and wisdom and knowledge that most of the time felt more like a burden than anything else. Perhaps dying wasn’t too bad.

“Merry Christmas,” I told her and gave her a kiss on the forehead. The last time I had done that, she had been a baby.

“Merry Christmas,” River replied, the smile back on her face.

I spent that Christmas Eve with Melody. I convinced her to go look for her parents. On Christmas Day, Anthony and his family came for a visit. I took it all in. After that, I decided to write down this story. I know it will be the last story I will ever tell. Perhaps it is the only story that ever mattered.

#doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #amy pond #rory williams #amy x rory #eleventh doctor era #river song

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