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30 September 2012 @ 12:25 am
DW :: "A Madness of Angels"  
Fandom: Doctor Who
Title: "A Madness of Angels"
Rating: G
disclaimer: I hate you Steven Moffat for all these glorious painful feels. Also, I don't own these characters, blahblahblah.

He simply couldn’t believe it. They were gone. Both of them. Taken by the Angels. One life snatched, the other sacrificed, right in front of his eyes. Eyes that had seen many friends and foes alike disappear and die. But this time around, the shock was bigger and more powerful than he had dared to imagine. Salty tears streamed down his cheeks as his body nearly convulsed with grief and anger. River Song had to use all of her strength to drag the Time Lord’s shuddering frame back into the safety of the TARDIS. Many hours passed until he finally seemed to have recovered. River had steered the blue police box away from the graveyard and parked it in the middle of the Ponds’s living room. Her husband had collapsed in front of the console, his face a mess of tears and snot. She’d carried him into one of the TARDIS’ many bedrooms. After that, River herself was in need of a break. She fixed herself some tea and sat down at the top of the stairs in the console room, listening to the soft humming of the time vortex.
Meanwhile, the Doctor’s mind disentangled itself from the fogs of nightmares and angsty dreams. He jackknifed into a sitting position, his broken voice crying out for the Girl Who Waited. His slender fingers clawed at air. She was gone, taken by the Weeping Angels. And he hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye. Not a proper goodbye. Slowly but determined, the Time Lord slipped out of bed and changed back into his usual attire. When he arrived in the console room, River was peering at one of the TV screens above the console. She hadn’t even heard his footsteps as he approached.
“Oh my! Sweetie, you scared me there. I had no idea you’d come around again so soon.”
“Sorry about that. I’m not really feeling myself, right now.”
River put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
“I know, believe me, I know. But we’ve got to move on. That’s what Amy would have wanted. You know that.”
She slipped a book into his hands whilst planting a kiss on his cheek.
Suddenly, his eyes grew big. He turned the book around and a smile spread across his face.
“Read the afterword. No more spoilers, sweetie.” River winked.
The Doctor didn’t have be told twice. His eyes raced across the page, filling up with fresh tears as he advanced through Amy’s comforting last words.
Oh Amy. Oh Rory. Why did I not see this coming? Why didn’t I call you into the TARDIS sooner? I could’ve prevented this, I could’ve said the goodbyes I meant to say at one point… Not like this. Not now.
“I know it’s hard to comprehend but… they’ve lived their lives, and it’s been a good ride for both of them. To have tried to stop Amy would have been crueller than any Angel’s touch, and you know it. Please don’t blame yourself – there is nothing you could’ve done.” River said as she began to fiddle with levers and buttons.
“No. You’re wrong. There’s so much I could have and should have done. And it’s not too late. It’s never too late. Despair blocks the path to success. I was overcome with grief and emotions, but I can set things right after all. Just watch me.”
The Doctor’s voice was still shaky and his eyes seemed to be on the verge of glazing over with the promise of more tears, but he quickly regained his composure and gently brushed River away from the console. One mad grin was all it took to make River realise that she’d be finding herself stranded in her parents’s house while her crazy Time Lord husband was headed on a recovery mission that might never accomplish anything but more grief and pain.
She shook her head and laughed as the TARDIS dematerialised again. She shrugged and headed upstairs into what was once her parents’s bedroom. Within minutes of laying her head onto the pillow, River Song welcomed the soothing rhythm of sleep.

He was racing, roaring, raging. He is a Time Lord. Nothing can hold him back from finding what was stolen from him – not even the Weeping Angels. They denied him a chance to let go and take his leave – on his terms, that’s how it should be done. Too often had he seen companions being ripped away. Too often had he felt like it would tear apart his soul. But now… they’d done it, hadn’t they? A searing pain inside his body, like a fire burning and threatening to consume him. Hatred, regret and despair, mixed into a dangerous cocktail. Hell hath no fury like a Time Lord scorned. Let it be known.
Every day of every year, the same spot, the same emptiness. Again and again he’d open up the door but there was no Amy and Rory meeting his gaze. He dismissed logic’s wise words: it can’t be done.
They’ve created a fixed timeline. I will never be able to find them. But it seems to easy. Too easy, in fact. A TARDIS should be able to beat the Angels. Then why can’t I find them? What am I not seeing clearly?
He soon lost track of his attempts. Time and time again he stepped outside the TARDIS and was met with a painful void where Rory and Amy ought to be. But he would step back inside and try again. And again. And again.

The TARDIS arrived at the graveyard, materialising slowly. The door swung open and the Doctor’s head appeared. He did not stare straight ahead like he had before. His eyes strained to face yet another blow in the shape of an empty space filled with rows of tombstones. But now, there was something different about the scene. There were two people amidst the graves, locked in an embrace that seemed to last a lifetime.
The Ponds. Amy and Rory. The Doctor’s grabbed the door of his TARDIS to keep himself from swaying backwards. He had found them at long last. Displaced in time but not lost forever. Not anymore. The moment their heads turned at the sound of his voice, he knew that he had won the battle. And this time around he did not waste precious minutes getting them back inside his magic blue box. He all but shoved them into the brightly lit console room before slamming the door shut and flittering about as he got the TARDIS headed back to the Pond house in London. He was not quite in a speaking mood, what with tears running down his face again. But he needn’t use words – the soft smile of gratitude and recognition that Amy and Rory beamed at him was all he needed to know that all was right. He would drop them off and let them live their lives.

And maybe one day he’d get to read another afterword. This is the story of Amelia Pond. And this is how it ends…