#we all know Rory took Amy's last name let's not kid ourselves

[noodles-07]

follow up poll to my one about the doctor. which modern Doctor Who COMPANION would win in a fight against all the others. no holds barred. they can fight dirty. psychological warfare is not just allowed but encouraged (though not mandatory). just full on duking it out. this is not about who your favorite is this is about who would be the most devastating in combat

we're not including Jack Harkness because he Literally cant die. also not including Wilf because I love him too much to put him in these situations.

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 30

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 30 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 30/? SUMMARY:  The Doctor’s death is looming on the horizon and Elise is growing every  day. What the Doctor doesn’t know is that he has 200 years to teach Elise all he knows. Amy, Rory, and River let Elise in on their secret,  because River knows she will keep it. What will Elise do when he’s gone?

[A/N - Chapter 30! God, can you believe it? Just a few more chapters till the end! Are you ready?]

After retrieving Joe, they went back to the restaurant. Joe was lying on a table while the Doctor scanned him.

Rita was making tea for everyone.

Howie and Rory were trying to find things to barricade the door with.

“If we can wedge a chair under the door handles, that should stop anything from getting in,” Rory said.

Rita walked over to the Doctor and Elise with mugs of tea.

“Thank you,” Elise said.

“What exactly happened to him?” Rita asked, gesturing to Joe.

“He died,” the Doctor told her.

“You are a medical doctor, aren't you? You haven't just got a degree in cheese-making or something.”

“No! Well, yes, both, actually. I mean, there is no cause. All his vital organs simply stopped, as if the simple spark of life, his loves and hates, his faiths and fears were just taken…” The Doctor sniffed his mug. “…and this is a cup of tea.”

Well what else would it be? Elise wanted to say something, but the Doctor clearly wasn’t having any of her attitude on this trip. In human years, Elise would be classified as a teenager. Is that why she felt angry or sad all the time? Hormones?

“Of course, I'm British, it's how we cope with trauma. That and tutting,” Rita said.

“But how did you make it?”

“All hotels should have a well stocked kitchen, even alien fake ones. I heard you talking when you arrived. Look, it's no more ridiculous than Howie's CIA theory, or mine.”

“Which is?”

“This is Jahannam.”

“You're a Muslim.”

“Don't be frightened.”

The Doctor laughed. “You think this is Hell.”

“The whole '80s hotel thing took me by surprise, though.”

“And all these fears and phobias wandering about, most are completely unconnected to us, so why are they still here?”

Rita sighed. “Maybe the cleaners have gone on strike.”

The Doctor chuckled. “I like you. You're a right clever clogs. But this isn't Hell, Rita.”

“You don't understand. I say that without fear. Jahannam will play its tricks, and there'll be times when I want to run and scream, but I've tried to live a good life, and that knowledge keeps me sane, despite the monsters and the bonkers rooms. Gibbis is an alien, isn't he?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Okay. I'm going to file that under Freak Out About Later.”

“Doctor, look at this. I found it in a corridor, I completely forgot I had it,” Amy said, handing over the paper she found earlier.

The Doctor playfully smacked her on the head with it. “My name is Lucy Hayward and I'm the last one left. It took Luke first. It got him on his first day, almost as soon as we arrived. It's funny. You don't know what's going to be in your room until you see it, then you realize it could never have been anything else. I just saw mine. It was a gorilla from a book I'd read as a kid. My God, that thing used to terrify me. The gaps between my worships are getting shorter, like contractions. This is what happened to the others, and how lucky they were. It's all so clear now. I'm so happy. Praise him. Praise him.”

“Praise him,” Howie said.

Everyone’s heads turned towards him.

“What did you just say?” the Doctor asked.

“Nothing. Praise him!”

“This is what happened to Joe!” Gibbis shrieked.

“God, it's going to come for me now,” Howie moaned.

“You'll lead it right here.”

“I won't leave you. I promise you. You have my word on that,” the Doctor reassured him.

“I don't want to get eaten.”

“Calm down,” Amy said.

“He's going to lead the creature right here!” Gibbis yelled.

Elise really wanted to hit him to get him to shut up.

The Doctor pulled out his screwdriver. It whirred loudly and everyone went quiet. “Thank you.”

“Don't you see? He'll lead it right here,” Gibbis said.

“What do you suggest?” Rita asked.

“Look, whatever it is out there, it's obviously chosen Howard as its next course. Now, tragic though that is, this is no time for sentiment. I'm saying if it were to find him, it may be satisfied and let the rest of us go. All I want to do is go home and be conquered and oppressed. Is that too much to ask?!”

Elise opened her mouth to go off on Gibbis, but was cut off by Rita.

“It's okay. I'll stay with Howie. You take the others and go.”

“No. We stay together,” the Doctor said. The Doctor walked over to Gibbis. “Your civilization is one of the oldest in the galaxy. Now I see why. Your cowardice isn't quaint, it's sly, aggressive. Its how that gene of gutlessness has survived while so many others have perished. Well, not today. No one else dies today. Right?”

Gibbis nodded.

“Brilliant. Howie, any second, it's going to possess you again. When it does, I'm going to ask you some questions. Please try to answer them.”

They all sat down at a table, except Elise. She was too restless, so she settled for standing behind her father.

“I hope my mum's all right, she's going to be w-worried,” Howie said. Something came over him.

“Howie?” the Doctor asked.

Howie started smiling.

“Howie. Howie, you're next. We're all dead jealous. So, tell us. How do we get a piece of the action? Why isn't he possessing all of us?”

Howie laughed. “You guys have got all these distractions, all these obstacles. It'd be so much easier if you just let it go, you know? Clear the path.”

“You want it to find you even though you know what it's going to do?” Amy asked.

“Are you kidding? He's going to kill us all. How cool is that?”

They all got up, leaving Howie at the table by himself.

“It's as I thought. It feeds on fear. Everything, the rooms, Lucy's note, even the pictures in reception, has been put here to frighten us. So we have to resist it. Do whatever you have to. Cross your fingers, say a prayer, think of a basket of kittens, but do not give in to the fear,” the Doctor told them.

“Okay, but what are we actually going to do?” Amy asked.

“We're going to catch ourselves a monster.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They managed to trap the monster, which of course happened to be a Minotaur, in the spa.

“Quite fitting isn’t it? Labyrinth of a hotel?” Elise said, “Makes sense.”

“Nothing personal. I just think we should take things slowly. Get to know each other. You take people's most primal fears and pop it in a room. A tailor-made hell, just for them. Why?” the Doctor asked.

The Minotaur snarled at them.

“Did you say they take? Ah, what is that word? The guard? No, the warden? This is a prison.” The Doctor turned and smiled at Elise. “My clever girl.”

Elise returned the smile.

“So what are we, cell mates? Lunch?”

The Minotaur growled.

“We are not ripe. This is what Joe said, that we weren't ready.”

They stepped out of the shadows and faced him.

“So, what, what, you make us ready. You what? Replace? Replace what, fear? You have lived so long even your name is lost. You want this to stop. Because you are just instinct. Then tell me. Tell me how to fight you.”

Elise’s eyes filled with tears as her hearts broke for the Minotaur. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He wanted it to be over. She knew how he felt.

“My master, my lord. I'm here! Oh! Bring me death.”

“That’s Howie,” Elise said.

“No, no, no, no, no!”

The Minotaur put it’s large fist through the glass separating them.

“Rory, watch out!” the Doctor yelled.

Amy and Rita burst in.

“Stay back!”

The Minotaur smashed the glass and knocked Rory down.

Elise rushed to side. “Rory?” she asked.

“Where'd he go?” the Doctor asked Rory.

“Somebody hit me,” Rory said, “Was it Amy?”

The Doctor got up and ran down the hallway.

“Rory, are you all right?” Rita asked him.

“We should find the Doctor,” Amy said. She stood up and walked towards room 7. She opened the door.

Rita pulled her back and shut it.

Amy, Rory, Elise, and Rita met back up with the Doctor, who had already found Howie dead. They took Howie’s body and laid it out next to Joe’s in the restaurant.

Amy placed the goldfish on a side table in the reception area.

The Doctor walked past Elise and grabbed her arm.

“Where are we going? Why aren’t the others coming?” she asked.

“Because. We’re going to go find our rooms.”

Elise laughed sarcastically. “Okay, you’ve completely lost your mind.”

“C’mon. Don’t you want to know?” The Doctor smiled when he saw the curiosity in her eyes.

As they ventured through the hallway, they could hear whispers.

Elise walked past a door with a number 10 on it. It was calling to her to open it.

Elise looked at her father and he nodded. She opened the door and saw herself standing there. Over the bodies of everyone she cared about.

Her father. Both incarnations of him. Amy. Rory. River. Outside the window, Gallifrey was burning.

She stumbled back into her father’s arms as she let out a shuddering breath. She turned and buried her face in his neck.

“Shhh”, he cooed, as she stroked her hair.

He understood her greatest fear now. Being completely alone. Just like she had been in the last days of the Time War. Before he killed them all.

“Hey”, he said, pulling her away from him. He cupped her face in his hands as tears streamed down from her blue eyes. “I’m not gonna let that happen. Do you hear me?” he told her.

Elise nodded and he placed a kiss on her forehead. She wiped her eyes and sniffled. “Did…did you find your room?” she asked.

He nodded and gestured to room 11.

Elise let out a watery laugh. “Of course.”

He opened the door, just enough to peak, before closing it and putting a Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob. “C’mon. We need to find the security room.

[taryandbrarian]

Angels in Manhattan

This is my second Weeping Angels related fix-it fiction. River Song is one of my favorite characters. I liked River Song and Melody Pond as names with a clear connection. I had a head-canon that she she more names revolving around the theme. Carol Spring is her detective name in my version of the story (an unneeded edit, I just liked that it fit more of a pattern than Melody Malone).

Sam Garner thoughtfully typed away on an old-fashioned typewriter. He read aloud in his thick New York accent what he had written, “New York, the city of a million stories. Half of them are true. The other half? Just haven't happened yet.” He could hear thunder and a dreary rain began to fall. It reminded him of the night he had gone to visit the collector. Statues, the man had told him; living statues that moved in the dark. Inside the opulent study of the Grayle Mansion, Sam had met with Mr. Grayle himself.

“So, will you take the case, Mr. Garner?” Mr. Grayle threw a packet of money on the desk. “Sure. Why not?” Mr. Grayle smirked. “Because you don't believe me.” “For $25 a day, plus expenses, I'll believe any damn thing you like,” the detective replied. “But you don't believe that statues can move,” Mr. Grayle said. He gave a small chuckle. “And you're right, Mr. Garner, they can't. Of course they can't.” He peered out the window through the darkness at a statue of three dancing angels.  “If someone is looking,” he added ominously. Sam picked up the stack of cash and said goodnight. He put on his fedora and was escorted out by one of Grayle’s men. The collector did not watch them go. Instead, he returned his gaze to the statue in the park. In a flash of lightening, he could see that the trio of angels was now a pair. The address Mr. Grayle had given the detective was an apartment block near Battery Park. According to Mr. Grayle, it was where the statues lived, but he dared not go there himself.

Sam Garner continued to type. “Mr. Grayle was the scariest guy I knew. If something scared him, I kind of wanted to shake its hand. Perhaps this was why I was so eager to see just exactly who was living at Winter Quay.”  

Winter Quay was a hotel. Even though the rain had let up, the place still felt gloomy. As he walked up the stone stairs, Sam noticed a life-sized angel statue on the right. He looked to the left, but the pedestal was empty. The lack of symmetry was odd, but he hadn’t given it much thought at the time.

The foyer of the hotel was brightly lit with electric lamps. However, he could see several candelabras and lanterns were on hand. The front desk manager greeted him. “Checking in for the night?” he asked. Sam Garner stopped short. He looked more closely at the man behind the front desk. “Excuse me,” he asked, “But are you possibly related to a Mr. Grayle?” Though this hotel employee and the collector were at least twenty years apart in age, the resemblance was hard to overlook.

"I am.” He gave a little sigh. “Your room number is 502, Mr. Garner. I will show you to the elevator.” The old lift came down and the doors slid open. Mr. Garner entered the lift. Before the lift doors closed, the desk manager said, “Also, when you get the chance, be sure to write a letter to Detective Carol Spring.”

Mr. Garner exited the lift at the fifth floor. The floorboards creaked as he walked down the hall examining the doors and nameplates. He stopped at room 502 and peered at the name "S. GARNER". He slowly opened the door as he knocked. He called out, “Hello? Anyone home?”  He walked down the short hallway and noticed a fedora and jacket draped on a mirror. He ran his fingers along the fedora’s brim. An open, worn wallet on the side table caught his attention. He took it up and looked for an identity card. He found a card with his photo and name. It looked like a faded version of his PI license. He reached into his own coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. A moan from an inner room got his attention. The door was slightly ajar, so he pushed it open. He found an old man lying in a large hotel bed. The old man opened his eyes wide, and tried to sit up. “Who are you?” the detective asked in surprise.

“They're coming for you. They're going to send you back,” said the old man.

“Who's coming? Back where?”

“In time. Back in time. I'm you,” the old man said, reaching out his hand. In a weak voice he repeated, “I’m you!” Then he fell back against the pillow.

Sam Garner stepped out of the apartment and into the hall. He turned and nearly jumped out of his skin upon seeing the stone angel from the steps standing in the hallway. He turned to the left and saw another stone angel statue in the elevator.  When he looked back at the first statue, it had somehow moved remarkably closer. He looked to the elevator, but that angel had moved closer, too. He pulled out his gun and backed out through the door into the stairwell. He started down the stairs but stopped when he saw two stone angels. Yet, these were not like the ones in the hall. These had their arms out stretched, and their mouths were wide open with teeth bared. He ran up the stairs and stepped out onto the roof. For a moment, he thought he was safe. Then, he noticed four angels, one from each corner of the building, twisting out of their position under the eaves. It was like Mr. Grayle had said, the statues didn’t move when he was looking at them. “You got to be kidding me,” the young detective muttered.

It was a sunny day in Central Park. Rory Williams lay against a warm boulder, slurping on frozen lemonade. The Doctor and Amy sat back to back reading. Amy was trying to focus on her newspaper, but her concentration was repeatedly broken because the Doctor kept reading aloud. “New York growled at my window, but I was ready for it. My stocking seams were straight, my lipstick was combat-ready, and I was packing cleavage that could fell an ox at 20 feet." Amy sighed, “Doctor, you're doing it again.” “I'm reading!” the Doctor protested. “Out loud. Please, could you not?” The Doctor took a noisy slurp from his frozen lemonade. “What's the book?” Rory asked. “Is it that one you got from the used book-store?” “Carol Spring. She's a private detective in old-town New York.” Amy said with a dramatic flair, “She's got ice in her heart and a kiss on her lips and a vulnerable side she keeps well-hidden.” “Oh, you've read it,” said the Doctor. “No, you read it. Aloud. And then went Yowzah!” Rory sat up. “You know, only you could fancy someone in a book.” “I'm just reading. I just like the cover.” Amy turned around quickly. “Ooh! Can we see the cover?” she asked, tossing aside her newspaper and reaching. “No. No. I'm busy,” the Doctor said. Amy pestered him, trying to reach over his shoulder and snatch the book. The Doctor hunched and tried to hide the book’s cover against his chest. “Didn’t you find that book in the science-fiction section?” Rory asked. “Is there a sexy alien?” “Oh! Now you’ve done it!” The Doctor exclaimed. “You’ve ruined the ending!” “I did not!” “Not you, Amy. Amy ruined the ending.” “How?” “You made me spill my frosty, sticky lemonade all over it. Look,” the Doctor held up the book. The back cover and about the last quarter of the book were soaked. “Well, if you’d just let me see the cover, that wouldn’t have happened,” Amy retorted. The Doctor playfully tossed the soggy book in her direction. He stood up and stomped over to the TARDIS. “You owe me a new lemon slushie,” the Doctor said as he shut the door. “I’ll get it,” said Rory. “No, get us coffee instead,” instructed Amy. She gingerly picked up the book, flipping it over to look at the front cover. “Huh! Does she look familiar to you?” Rory didn’t answer, he had already left. Amy looked once again at the cover picture: a woman in red lipstick wearing a trench coat and a hat that barely covered a mane of curly blond hair. The Doctor opened the TARDIS door. He was wearing a completely new shirt, jacket, and tie. The Doctor admired himself. “Like superman! Only thing a phone booth seems good for these days… Where’s Rory?” “Getting coffee,” Amy answered. The Doctor returned to sitting on the rock. “Coffee is not frozen lemonade,” he said. “Doctor, I really am sorry about your book.” The Doctor grinned. “No matter, it’s actually a good thing.” He ripped away the soaked section of the paper-back book and tossed it into the picnic basket. “Now the story doesn’t have to end. I hate endings.”  Amy said, “Read to me.” “I thought you didn't like my reading aloud.” “Shut up and read me a story. Just don't go Yowzah!” They sat back-to-back and laughed. The Doctor opened the book and found the place where he had left off.

Meanwhile, Rory was crossing through the park with three cups of coffee. He stopped briefly to admire the Bethesda Fountain along with so many other tourists. At the top of the fountain was an eight-foot bronze angel, and below, thinly veiled by curtains of water were four small cherubim. Rory looked at the angel for a while. “Don’t blink,” he murmured to himself. Then he chuckled, and continued walking towards the underpass. Rory mimicked Amy’s voice, “It’s bronze, not stone. Don’t even joke about that.” Then he mimicked the Doctor, “Besides, it would be near impossible for every tourist here to look away at the same time. We’re all perfectly safe out here in broad daylight. Of course, if we were to find ourselves in a dark underpass…” There was a sound of childish giggling and scampering. Rory turned around, but he saw nothing. Hiding in the eaves of the underpass, was a bronze cherub from the fountain, with its mouth open, showing its teeth.

The Doctor and Amy had left the rock and had taken to strolling. They stopped on the Bow Bridge and the Doctor continued reading from the book while Amy dropped sticks from the railing and watched them drift in the water. "I followed the skinny guy for two more blocks before he turned,” the Doctor eagerly turned the page and continued reading aloud. “…and I could ask exactly what he was doing here. He looked a little scared, so I gave him my best smile and my bluest eyes." “And beware of the yowzah. Do not, at this point, yowz,” Amy warned. The Doctor ceased to casually lean against the railing, intrigued by something in the book. “Doctor? What did the skinny guy say?” The Doctor answered, “He said, ‘I just went to get coffees for the Doctor and Amy. Hello, River'."

Rory was bewildered. He was on a New York City street, at night, under an old fashioned street lamp. River Song was dressed as a private eye, complete with trench coat and fedora. “Hello, Dad,” she said. “Where am I? How the hell did I get here?” “I haven't the faintest idea,” she said, noticing a figure approaching from behind Rory. “But you’ll probably want to put your hands up.” Rory turned around and saw a man aiming a gun at him. He dropped the coffee and raised his hands. Another man appeared behind River. “Carol Spring?” the man behind River said. Rory squealed over his shoulder, “You’re Carol Spring?!” A dark car came to a sharp halt. “Get in,” said the man with the gun.

The Doctor and Amy were crossing Times Square, but neither one was taking in the sights. “What's River doing in a book? What's Rory doing in a book?” Amy cried. “He went to get coffee. Pay attention.” “He went to get coffee and turned up in a book. How does that work?” “I don't know! We're in New York!” the Doctor replied in frustration.

The dark car drove through the streets. Rory and River sat in the back seat. “What’s going on?” Rory asked. “Well, I suppose you aren’t here to help me, then. You didn't come here in the TARDIS, obviously.”

“Where did you get this book?” Amy asked the Doctor. They had made it back to the TARDIS. “The used book store, Sparrow and Nightingale I think it was called? Store owner recommended it.” The Doctor was feverishly flipping switches. “Date. Date. Does she mention a date? When is this happening?” Amy flipped through the book. “Yes, hang on. Uh -- ooh! April 3, 1938.”

Rory asked River, “Why is it obvious?” “You couldn't have,” River answered. “This city's full of time distortions. Be impossible to land the TARDIS here. Like trying to land a plane in a blizzard. Even I couldn't do it.” “Well, how did you get here?” Rory asked. River held up her wrist to show off a large bracelet. “Vortex Manipulator. Less bulky than a TARDIS, like a motorbike through traffic. You?” Rory confessed, “I'm... not sure.” The car pulled into the gated courtyard of the Grayle mansion. Lined along the roof were stone angels.

“Even who couldn't do it?!” the Doctor blurted. “Don't you two fall out. She's only in a book,” Amy said. The Doctor scoffed and flipped the controls to set the TARDIS in motion. The TARDIS tried to materialize in the air near the Brooklyn Bridge, but it was forced back. The TARDIS sparked and rocked and an alarm sounded as a warning appeared on the monitor. “What was that?” Amy asked, carefully standing after she’d been thrown to the ground. “1938. We just bounced off it,” the Doctor said. The TARDIS materialized in the middle of a cemetery. Amy saw the Empire State Building in the distance. They had returned to New York in the 21st century. “The Weeping Angels? Are you sure?” Amy asked the Doctor. “It makes sense.” “It makes what?” “That's what happened to Rory. That's what the Angels do. It's their preferred form of attack. They zap you back in time, let you live to death.” The Doctor used a fire extinguisher on the exterior of the TARDIS. “Well, we've got a time machine. We can just go and get him.” “Tried that, if you've noticed, and we are back where we started, in 2012!” “We didn't start in a graveyard. What are we doing here?” “Don't know. As I said, we bounced. Probably causally linked, somehow. Doesn't matter.” He continued to tend to the TARDIS. Amy flipped through the book. “Well, we're going to get there, somehow. We're in the rest of the book.” “How can you know that? The rest of the book is a soggy, sticky mess at the top of a picnic basket.” “Well, you’re on page 143, talking to River, or should I say Carol Spring…” “I’m what?” “Page 143. You're going to break something.” “I'm what?” Amy read from the book, "'Why do you have to break mine?' I asked the Doctor. He frowned and said, ‘Because Amy read it in a book and, now, I have no choice.'" The Doctor ran over and took the book from Amy. “Stop! No! No! Stop! You can't read ahead. You mustn't and -- and you can't do that.”“But we've already been reading it.” “Just the stuff that's happening now, in parallel with us. That's as far as we go.” “It could help us find Rory.” “And if you read ahead and find that you do something criminal? This isn't any old future, Amy, it's ours.” “Time can be re-written,” Amy said glibly. “We are in a dangerous gray area, Amy. That muddy spot between historical fact and historical fiction. If we want this story to be true, if we want to know that Rory has been touched by a Weeping Angel and that River is going to help us, we must do exactly as the book says.  I'm going to break something of River’s because you told me that I'm going to do it. No choice now. Otherwise, we make this book fiction and we won’t be able to find Rory at all!” The Doctor took Amy’s hand and together they ran into the TARDIS.

Rory and River Song were escorted into the gigantic house by the two men. They stopped at the foot of the stairs.  River saw a large Chinese vase on a stand. “Ah, early Qin Dynasty, I'd say.” “Correct,” said a large, white haired gentleman, standing on the first floor landing. “Are you an archaeologist as well as a detective, Miss Spring?” Mr. Grayle continued to speak as the descended the stairway. “Early Qin, just as you say. You're very well-informed.” “And you're very afraid. That's an awful lot of locks for one door.” River nodded towards the front door. It had at least four different types of locks on it. Rory was looking at all the Chinese porcelain, shocked that he could read the characters. He whispered, “River, I'm translating.” “It's a gift of the TARDIS. It hangs around.” Mr. Grayle pointed at Rory and spoke to one of his men, “This one. Put him somewhere uncomfortable.” Rory was not surprised by this turn of events. “With the babies, sir?” “Yes. Why not? Give him to the babies.” The man grabbed Rory by the arm and pulled him from the room. Rory was taken to the cellar. When the man opened the cellar door, Rory could see a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The man threw Rory down the stairs. “The lights are out. You'll last longer with these.” He tossed a box of matches to Rory. “What do you care?” Rory shouted up the stairs. The man scoffed, “It’s funnier.” He left and shut the door behind him, leaving Rory in the dark.

The Doctor stood on the console turning a wheel attached to the column. “Okay, landing a plane in a timey-wimey blizzard. Can’t go to New York, April 3rd, 1938… we just bounced off. We can’t punch through… we need to pierce. I need a more specific target.” “More specific than New York, April 3rd, 1938?” Amy asked. “Much, much more specific. The man they’re meeting, he’s a collector, right?” “Yeah…” “What did she say, early what dynasty?”

Moments later, Amy and the Doctor were in China in a porcelain studio in 221 BC. An older Chinese man was directing his apprentices. “Ah, hello. Yes,” the Doctor held up his pad of psychic paper. “Special permission from the emperor.”

Mr. Grayle had taken River Song into his private study. She removed her trench coat to reveal a slinky black dress. She glanced about the room and saw the word "Yowzah" written on the Chinese vase in front of her. “Hello, sweetie!” she said under her breath. She turned around to face Mr. Grayle. “Let's see -- crime boss with a collecting fetish.” She walked confidently towards a heavy curtain. “Whatever you don't want anyone else to see has got to be your favorite. Or, possibly, your girlfriend.” She opened the curtain with flourish. Behind the curtain stood a Weeping Angel, poised to attack. However, it was chained and manacled. Its face was cracked and deformed. River smirked, “So, girlfriend, then.” She opened a panel on her vortex manipulator and started typing. “What are you doing?” Mr. Grayle asked. “Oh, you know, texting a boy.” “These things are all over, but people don't seem to notice,” Mr. Grayle said. “It never moves while you're looking.” “Oh, I know how they work.” “So I understand. Carol Spring, the detective who investigates Weeping Angels.” River stepped closer to the statue. “Badly damaged,” she said. Mr. Grayle shrugged. “Used to be worse. I think it uses sun light to heal itself.” Unexpectedly, he switched off the light then turned it on again. The Angel was gripping River’s right wrist. “You're going to tell me all about these creatures. And you're going to do it quickly.”

Rory lit a match and shuddered as he stood. He looked around nervously when he heard more giggling and scampering. “Hello, is someone there?” he called out. He walked forward cautiously. In the light of the match, he saw three cherub statues lying on the floor. Instinctively, he leapt back. The match went out and in the dark, there was more scampering. Rory quickly lit another match. He could now see four cherub statues poised to attack. He backed away quickly, but dropped the match when the flame burnt his fingers. He fumbled with the match box. When another match was lit, he could see that the cherubs had now moved in an attempt to block him from the stairs. Rock felt the wall at his back and the flame growing closer to his finger tips. He muttered to himself as he lit another match. If only there was something he could light on fire. But then, fire would cause smoke. He pulled another match from the box, ready to strike it the moment the other match burnt out. He just had to make it up the stairs.

The Angel was gripping River’s wrist tightly, she could not wriggle free. “The Angels are predators. They're deadly. What do you want with them?” she asked Mr. Grayle. “I'm a collector. What collector could resist these? I'm only human.” “That's exactly what they're thinking,” River retorted. At that moment the lights began to flicker and the house started shaking. Mr. Grayle wondered if it was an earthquake. River smiled, knowing it was her husband at his fantastic blue box.

Mr. Grayle stumbled into the front hall as the TARDIS finally came to land with a resounding thud. Mr. Grayle collapsed. Amy immediately ran out of the blue box and straight up the stairs, calling out for Rory. The Doctor stayed behind a moment, preening. He licked his fingers to smooth his hair. He checked his breath and straightened his tie.  At last, he opened the door. He gave a little wave to River, who was still in the study. “Sorry I'm late, honey. Traffic was hell.” He knelt down to check on Mr. Grayle. “Shock. He’ll be fine.” “Not if I can get loose,” said River.

The Doctor pushed his hair back into place as he strolled into the study. Of course, when he spotted the Angel, his demeanor changed. He quickly pulled out the sonic screwdriver and started to scan. “You needn’t do that, Sweetie. She wouldn’t bother sending me back in time, and she’s too well shackled to kill me quickly.” The Doctor relaxed a little stood behind the woman in the slinky black dress. “So, where are we now, Dr. Song? How's prison?” “Oh, I was pardoned ages ago. And it's ‘Professor’ Song, to you.” “Pardoned?” “Mmm! Turns out the person I killed never existed in the first place. Apparently, there's no record of him. It's almost as if someone's gone around deleting himself from every database in the universe.” The Doctor tapped her nose with his finger. “Mmm, you said I'd got too big.” “And, now, no one's ever heard of you. Didn't you used to be somebody?” “Weren't you the woman who killed the Doctor?” “Doctor who?” “Ha!” The Doctor checked the scanner’s readings. “She's holding you very tight. What makes you so sure she won’t send you back?” “It isn’t worth the effort. It takes energy to send someone back in time. And I have a vortex manipulator, so I could simply escape wherever she sent me, leaving her with no wasted potential to feast on.” “Good to know.” Amy appeared in the doorway.  “I still can’t find Rory.” “Well, if I’m going to help you, I need my hand back. So which is it going to be, are you going to break my wrist or hers?” The Doctor was very quiet for a moment. He looked at her, then at Amy. Then back at River. River’s face was full of disappointment. “Oh no. Really? Why do you have to break mine?” “Because Amy read it in a book and, now, I have no choice.” He glared at Amy. “You see?” “Well, what book?” River asked. The Doctor reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the torn book. “Your book. Which you haven't written yet, so we can't read!” “I see. I don't like the cover much.” Amy perked up with an idea. “But if River's going to write that book, she'd make it useful, yeah?” “Well, I'll certainly try. But we can't read ahead.” “I know, but there must be something we can look at.” The Doctor interrupted. “What, a page of handy hints, previews, spoiler-free?” Amy said, “Chapter titles.” The Doctor snapped his fingers and pointed at Amy with a grin. He opened the book to the chapter page. His finger scrolled down the list. The Centurion in the Cellar, he read. “He's in the cellar,” he called out. Amy reached out her hand. The Doctor tossed the sonic screwdriver to her. She caught it and ran out.

The Doctor got up, ran over to River and kissed her on the cheek. He began to head out the door, but he stopped. He gripped the back of the chair, rereading the chapter page. River begged him to tell her what was wrong. The Doctor clung to the book with both hands. The last chapter was titled “Amelia's Last Farewell". River tried to soothe him. She told him to calm down. The Doctor threw the book and shouted, “No!” “Talk to me! Doctor!” The Doctor walked up to River and spoke in a gruff voice, “You get your wrist out. You get your wrist out without breaking it.” Then he stormed towards the door. “How?” River called after him. He answered without turning around, “I don't know. Just do it! Change the future!”

Amy threw open the cellar door and hustled down the stairs. “Rory?” she called. There was no answer.  The blue beam of light from the screwdriver revealed the cherubs at the base of the stairs. The Doctor came down the stairs behind Amy and grabbed her shoulders. “No!” he warned her. “They're Angels! Baby Angels.” In front of the cherubs on the floor were the burned-out matches and an empty box. They heard giggling and scampering, so the Doctor lead Amy back up the stairs and closed the door behind them. The Doctor began to pace. Amy took a seat on the flight of stairs in the front hall.  “So is this what's going to happen?” Amy asked. “We just keep chasing him back in time and they keep pulling him further back.” River came out of the study wearing her trench coat. She walked swiftly as she held her tablet in her left hand, her right arm hung at her side. She stepped gracefully over the still unconscious Mr. Grayle. “He isn't back in time. I'm reading a displacement, but there are no temporal markers. He's been moved in space, not in time, and it's not that far from here, by the look of it.” The Doctor gazed at her, bewildered and relieved. “You got out.” Amy asked, “So where is he?” The Doctor went back to pacing, this time excitedly. River fumbled with the tablet, swiping and typing one handed. “Well, come on, come on, come on, where is he?!” the Doctor asked. “If it was that easy, I'd get you to do it,” River said calmly. The Doctor wondered aloud, “How did you get your wrist out without breaking it?” “You asked. I did. Problem?” The Doctor laughed, “You just changed the future!” “It's called marriage, honey. Now, hush. I'm working.” The Doctor took a seat beside Amy. “She's good, huh? Oh! Have you noticed? Really, really good.” Amy was concerned. She thought the Doctor didn’t want the story to be fiction. If River just changed the future, what did that mean for Rory? River began to speak before Amy could voice her concerns. “Wherever it is, it's within a few blocks.” She smiled at the Doctor. “There's a car out front. Shall we steal it?” “Show me!” the Doctor said exuberantly. He grabbed River’s right hand as he rushed to the door. She gasped in pain. The Doctor stopped and finally noticed River’s bruised and swollen hand. River bit her lip, then went to sit on the stairs next to Amy. She placed her tablet in Amy’s lap. She held her wrist out so Amy could remove the vortex manipulator. “Okay, when all those numbers on both units go to zero, that's when we've got a lock, okay? That's how we find Rory.” Amy nodded. “Got it,” she said as she stood up and walked to the door. Her eyes were glued to the screens. The Doctor sat down next to River. “Why did you lie to me?” “When one's in love with an ageless being who repeatedly travels with people under 30, one does one's best to hide the damage.” “It must hurt. Come here.” The Doctor gently took River’s hand in his. “Yes,” River said softly. “The wrist is pretty bad, too.” The Doctor looked at River, but she kept staring straight ahead. He placed his other hand above hers and she gasped. Their hands began to glow yellow. River tried to pull her hand away. “No. No. No, stop that. Stop that! Stop it!” When the Doctor lifted his hand, River’s wrist was healed. “There you are,” he said. He lifted her hand and gave it a courtly kiss. “How's that?” River flexed her fingers. “Well, let's see, shall we?” She slapped his face. “That was a stupid waste of regeneration energy. Nothing is gained by you being a sentimental idiot!” she scolded. “River!” the Doctor pleaded. River stood. “No! You embarrass me!” She stormed away, leaving the Doctor with his arms out calling, “River!” Amy watched River walk out the door. She pushed the two devices into the Doctor’s hands and hurried out the door to comfort her much older daughter. Alone, the Doctor stomped his feet in frustration. He should have stayed focused on the mission of finding Rory.

Amy found River outside the mansion, next to the black car. “Okay, why did you lie?” Amy asked. “Never let him see the damage,” River said in a shaky voice. “And never, ever, let him see you age. He doesn't like endings.” The Doctor came bustling out the door. “Got it! He's in a place called Winter Quay. The car, yes? Let's go.” The three of them hop into the car. In the rear-view mirror, Amy noticed the statue of three dancing angels; one seemed to be watching them drive away.

Mr. Grayle woke up to see the mess. The giant blue box was still in his front hall, and the strange man, the one Carol Spring had called her husband, was gone. Everyone was gone, and they had left the front door open. Mr. Grayle slowly walked to the front door. Startled, he jumped back. Standing on the front steps was a stone angel. He was quite excited, and looked to the platform. The other two angels had changed their pose, now sitting back to back. When he looked back, the Angel that was standing on the stoop was mere inches from him. He backed away, around the corner. When he turned, he saw another angel blocking the way to the study. His eyes widened in fear.

When the elevator stopped on the third floor of Winter Quay, Rory exited the lift. Electricity crackled as he slowly walked down the hall. In one of the rooms, he heard the sound of a typewriter. He wondered to what year and place the Angels had sent him this time. He peered at one of the nameplates, it read R. Williams and he reached for the door. It opened for him. As he entered the apartment, he didn't notice the Angel at the end of the hall. The dark car turned around the corner and Amy hit the brakes. She parked quickly and scurried out of the car. “Why would they send him here?” River wondered.  “Why not zap him back in time, like they normally do?” “We'll know that when we know what this place is,” the Doctor said. He went to join Amy. Amy was looking up at the red neon sign. “Winter Quay,” she said. River took the book out of her trench coat. “According to the titles page, there’s going to be a death here.” The three of them ran up the stairs, Amy in the lead. The doors opened on their own with a creak. They ran past the front desk and into the lift, taking no notice of the wrinkled desk clerk. When the lift stopped at the third floor, River announced, “He’s close.” Amy strode down the hall, almost breaking into a run when she spotted Rory entering an apartment. “Rory!” she called out. “Amy!” The two hugged just inside the doorway. The Doctor and River got a clear view of the hallway, and what was at the end of it. “Doctor. Look at this,” River said. There was an Angel in the hall. It was smiling. “Why is it smiling?”

The Doctor saw the nameplate by the apartment door. “Amy! Rory!” he called as he ran into the apartment.

River followed and closed the door behind her.

“Get out of here. Don't look at anything. Don't touch anything,” the Doctor ordered. They heard a gasping sound coming from the bedroom. When they looked, they saw an old man lying on the bed. He reached out and whispered hoarsely, “Amy! Amy, please.” The Doctor turned away as Amy slowly approached the old man. She took his hand as he repeated her name over and over. She looked his wrinkled face very closely. “Rory,” she says softly. The old man’s eyes widened. She turned to her husband. “He’s you.” The old man gasped and fell back against the pillows. He whispered Amy’s name with his final breath. Rory said, “Someone, please, tell me what is going on.” The Doctor answered, “I'm sorry, Rory, but you just died.” Rory swallowed. He stiffly walked out of the bedroom. The sound of a scuffle and breaking ceramics in the hallway brought the other three out of the bedroom as well. Someone was knocking on the door. “Open-up! It’s me! Sam! Sam Garner!” River Song recognized the name and quickly opened the door. Standing in the doorway with a sledge hammer was a scruffy man in his late fifties. He stepped into the room and River shut the door behind him. “Oh! You look so young!” he shouted. He dropped the sledgehammer and gave Rory a big hug. He turned to River Song. “And you must be Carol Spring. I guess you got my letter. Took me seventeen tries, but I made it to that mailbox! Ha!” “Seventeen?” “Every time anyone tries to escape, the Angels zap them back. Once Rory got the sledgehammer, we were able to defend ourselves better, get pretty far…” “So this place belongs to the Angels? They built it?” Amy asked. “Displacing someone back in time creates time energy and that is what the Angels feed on,” explained the Doctor. “But, normally, it's a one-off, a hit-and-run.” “It seems some Angels saw the benefit of collecting their victims,” Sam Garner said. “Yes! To feed off their time energy over and over again... This place is a battery farm. How many Angels in New York?” “What? You mean like all the bronze statues and stuff?” Rory asked. “The Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn alone would have nearly a dozen… Damnit, why do I read the tourist pamphlets?!” “Yeah, the Angels take Manhattan because they can,” the Doctor said grimly. “But they can’t move when people are looking at them, yeah. And this is New York, the city that never sleeps,” Amy reasoned. “So, how could they take over?” River answered, “Because they've never had a food source like this one: the artists, the philanthropists, a never ending stream of people hoping to make their mark on the world.” “In the future, some of them will have absorbed enough time-energy to overcome the quantum lock. They are fast, and unless someone is looking, really looking, they could move about as they please.” Rory wondered what would happen to him, putting a trembling hand on the handle of the sledgehammer. The Doctor sat on the couch and rubbed his face with his hands. “The Angels will come for you. They'll zap you back in time, to this very spot, 30-40 years ago, and you will live out the rest of your life in that room, until you die in that bed.” “And will Amy be there?” Rory asked. Sam answered, “No. It’s just you and me. You’ve told me about this day. It’s the day you see yourself die, the day the Angels take you.” “Okay. Well, they haven't taken me yet,” Rory chuckled, and shouldered the sledgehammer. “What if I just run? What if I just get the hell out of here? Then that never happens.” The Doctor sighed, “It's already happened, Rory. You've just witnessed your own future.” “Doctor, he's right,” River said. River explained, “If Rory got out, it would create a paradox. This is the Angels' food source. The paradox poisons the well. It could kill them all. This whole place would literally un-happen.” “It would be almost impossible,” the Doctor said. River smiled, “Loving the ‘almost’.” The Doctor stood. “But to create a paradox like that takes almost unimaginable power. What have we got? Eh? Tell me. Come on, what?” Amy went and stood next to her husband. She took his hand in hers. “I won't let them take him. That's what we got.” “Rory, even if you got out, that wouldn’t create a paradox. It’s a paradox only if they never catch you. You'd have to keep running for the rest of your life.” Amy responded, “Well, then, better get started.” She opened the door to reveal an Angel. She stared at it and said, “Husband, hammer!” Rory swung the sledgehammer at the Angel, hitting it squarely in the chest. It toppled over, a fracture forming across the wings. Rory took another swing, and the statue split. He was about to do another, but Amy spotted a second angel coming out of the lift. The couple ran down the hall.

The Doctor armed himself with his sonic screwdriver and approached the door.  The Angels kept getting closer, until the only safe route was the fire escape.

Amy and Rory hustled down the stairs, but stopped on the second floor when an Angel blocked their path. Amy turned in her tracks. “Up!” she ordered Rory. “Up? What good's up?” “Better than down.” Rory nodded in agreement and they ran up the stairs. They ran past third floor, and finally burst through the door that opened onto the roof. The rooftop was well lit by the moonlight and the glowing neon sign. Amy ran to the edge and looked around for a way down. Rory followed, slowed by the weight of the sledgehammer. He closed the door behind him, dropped the hammer and panted. Amy and Rory stood next to each other, panting. But, over the edge, they noticed four stone hands, one on each corner of the building. The roof was too wide for even two people to keep a close eye on all four corners. Bit by bit the Angels came creeping out from under the eaves. Rory tugged on Amy’s arm before running over to the edge. Amy asked, “What? What is it? What?” “Just keep your eyes on them!” Rory leaned over the side. He saw the traffic passing below. “Is there a way down?” “Uh...no. But there's a way out,” Rory said as he climbed onto the ledge. “Rory, what are you doing?” Amy asked. When no answer came, she turned, taking her eyes off the encroaching Angels. “Rory, stop it!” She ran up to him. “You'll die,” she said tearfully. “Yeah, twice. In the same building on the same night. Who else could do that?” “Just come down, please.” “This is the right thing to do,” the young man said. “This will work. If I die now, it's a paradox, right? The paradox will kill the Angels. Tell me I'm wrong. Go on, please, because I am really scared.” Amy said nothing. “Great. The one time you can't manage it.” Amy began to cry. “Oh, God,” Amy choked. Rory reached out and took her hand. “Amy,” he said, “I'm going to need a little help here.” He placed her hand on his chest, then threw his arms out to the sides, a perfect martyr pose. Amy grabbed his shirt in her fist, “Just stop it!” “No, just think it through. This will work. This will kill the Angels.” “It will kill you, too.” “Will it?! River said that this place would be erased from time, never exist. If this place never existed, what did I fall off?” “You think you'll just come back to life?” “When don't I?” Rory laughed. Amy began to protest, but he cut her off. “And, anyway, what else is there? Dying of old age downstairs, never seeing you again. Amy, please. If you love me, then trust me and push.” “I can't.” “You have to!” “Could you? If it was me, could you do it?” Rory looked down at his tearful wife. “To save you, I could do anything.” Amy let go of Rory’s shirt. She carefully climbed upon the ledge to join him. “Prove it,” she said. “No, I can't take you, too.” “You said we'd come back to life. ‘Money where your mouth is’ time.” Rory began to argue, but Amy said firmly. “Shut up. Together. Or not at all.”

The Doctor and River arrived on the rooftop via the fire escape. “What the hell are you doing?!” the Doctor shouted. “Changing the future,” Amy answered. She lovingly ran her hand along Rory’s face. “It's called ‘marriage.’” Then, with a deep breath, Amy and Rory fell over the side, their eyes on each other. “Amy!” the Doctor called, rushing to the edge and looking over the side. “Amy!” he called again. Amelia Pond-Williams and Rory Williams, fell with their arms wrapped around each other. On the roof, the Doctor watched helplessly. The air began to fluctuate and the white glow of moon light and the red glow the neon grew even brighter.

“Doctor!” River called out, “What is happening?” The Doctor seized her hand. “The paradox, it's working. The paradox is working!” The light got brighter and there was a flash before all went dark.

The Doctor and River sat up. They were lying in a grassy cemetery. The TARDIS was near-by. “Where are we?” River asked. “Back where we started! They collapsed the timeline. The paradox worked. We all pinged back where we belong!” “What, in a graveyard?” River asked with a smile. “Does it matter? We got lucky! We could've blown New York off the planet.” River Song handed the Doctor a scrub brush while she held a bucket. The Doctor continued to talk as he cleaned, “I can't ever take the TARDIS back there, of course. The timelines are too scrambled.” He gave a deep sigh. “Oh, I could've lost them both.” “It could do with a repaint,” River said. “I've been busy.” “Does the bulb on top need changing?” “Just changed it. Why are you acting that way.” “What way?” “You’re acting shifty. Shifting the conversation. Not wanting to talk about Amy and Rory. Where are Amy and Rory?” The Doctor opened the door to the TARDIS, but he didn’t see them. He squinted at River. “Why are we in a graveyard?” River sighed and calmly walked over to a gravestone. It was a simple headstone with the engraving “Rory Williams, Aged 85. And his Loving Wife Amelia Williams, Aged 87". “No!” the Doctor shouted. He bent over in anguish before standing and sobbing. He made a dash towards his time machine, but stopped himself. River went over to him and put a comforting arm around his waist. She gently guided him back to the TARDIS.

In the Pond-William’s house, a soft sunset could be seen through the windows of the front hall. Rory’s father, Brian, was dutifully watering the plants. He stopped and looked around, taking in the emptiness of the house, but his moment of musing was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Brian opened the door. A man in his mid-60s was standing on the doorstep. He was wearing an old-fashioned suit and spoke with a New York accent. “Mr. Brian Williams?” “Yes. How did you know I was here? This isn't my house.” The man held out a letter. “This is for you.” The envelope said nothing except DAD. “I don't understand,” Brian said. “You should read it. I'll wait,” the older gentleman said. He walked in past the bemused Brian. Brian sat on the sofa in the lounge and read the letter. “Dear Dad, This is the difficult bit. If I've got this right, you're reading this letter a week after we left in the TARDIS. The thing is, we're not coming back. We're alive and well and stuck in New York about fifty years before I was born. We can't come home again. I won't ever see you again and it breaks my heart. I'm so sorry, Dad. I thought about this for years, and I realized there was one thing I could do: I could write to you. Tell you everything about how we lived, how, despite it all, we were happy. But before I do, I need you to know, you are the best dad any son could have had, and for all the times I drove you mad and you drove me mad, and all the times I snapped at you, I'm sorry. I miss everything about you, especially our awkward hugs. I bought a trowel. We have a small yard. I garden. But one more important bit of business: the man who delivered the letter, Anthony, be nice to him ‘cause he's your grandson.”

Brian looked up at the older gentleman waiting in the front hall. The man tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. Brain continued reading. “We finally adopted in 1946. Anthony Brian Williams. He can tell you everything. He'll have the family albums and I realize having a grandson who is older than you is way beyond weird, but I'm sorry. I love you, Dad. I miss you.” Brian left the couch and walked up to Anthony. Anthony held out his hand. “How d'you do, sir?” Brian, stunned yet smiling, gave the old man a hug.

River was at the controls as the Doctor sat on ascending stairs, grieving. He lifted his hand out of his hands with a sudden thought. “River… They were your parents. Sorry, I didn't even think.” “It doesn't matter,” River said matter-of-factly. “Of course it matters.” “What matters is this: Doctor, don't travel alone.” “Travel with me, then.” “Whenever and wherever you want,” she said, gently steering the big blue box. “But not all the time. We can’t race to each other’s rescue if we’re already together.” The Doctor returned to moping. River pulled a lever, then stood squarely in front of him. “Okay, this book I've got to write, Carol Spring… Perhaps I could send it to Amy to get it published?” “I suppose.” “I'll tell her to write an afterword.” The Doctor shrugged. River sighed, “That piece that comes after the ending…For you. Maybe you'll listen to her.” River left the control room and the Doctor sat alone with his grief. Then he remembered, “The rest of the book!”

The Doctor ran across Bow Bridge to the area where they had been picnicking earlier. The basket was still there with the slightly sticky and soggy quarter of a book sitting on top. The Doctor pulled back the back cover to read the last page. It said, “Afterword, by Amelia Williams. Hello, old friend. And here we are, you and me, on the last page. By the time you read these words, Rory and I will be long gone. So know that we lived well and were very happy. And, above all else, know that we will love you always. Sometimes I do worry about you, though. I think, once we're gone, you won't be coming back here for a while and you might be alone, which you should never be. Don't be alone, Doctor. And do one more thing for me. There's a little girl waiting in a garden. She's going to wait a long while, so she's going to need a lot of hope.”

The Doctor remembered little Amelia. He pictured her sitting atop a well-packed suitcase, wearing a warm coat and hat, waiting for him. He continued to read. “Go to her. Tell her a story. Tell her that, if she's patient, the days are coming that she'll never forget. Tell her she'll go to sea and fight pirates. She'll fall in love with a man who'll wait 2,000 years to keep her safe. Tell her she'll give hope to the greatest painter who ever lived and save a whale in outer space. Tell her this is the story of Amelia Pond -- and this is how it ends.”

The Doctor did just that. He found little Amelia Pond, aged 7 years, and let her know just a few of the wonderful things the next 80 years would bring.