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28 October 2012 @ 06:04 pm
fic: New York Shorts [Parts 7, 8, 9, 10]  
Rating: PG
Characters: Amy, Rory, Melody Pond 1 and 2, Amy/Rory

Summary — A collection of mini stories set after The Angels Take Manhattan.

AN — This is a way to capture all the tiny ideas I had after seeing the episode. Should be ten or eleven of them in total, but I’ll keep it open-ended.

Parts 1 to 4 & Parts 5 and 6 (previously posted)

Six Months Later...

It was a Sunday evening like any other at the shelter. Most showed up to warm their bones with a hot meal and a bed for the night, some didn’t. Of the ones who didn’t, the lucky few had someone there to worry about their absence. And so Ben found himself worrying about Jeremy, who for the first time in almost a year hadn’t shown up for dinner.

Ben sat on his own with a chipped mug of steaming coffee and tried to pay the door no mind as it opened and closed with people passing through. He could almost see the bottom of the mug, and was about to call a halt to his watch, when he heard scuffling and shouting came from the entryway. Ignoring the stiffness in his leg, he rushed out to find Jeremy arguing with one of the security guards who was telling him to calm down. Jeremy’s eyes were wild and his cart was missing.

Ben shuffled up to the guard. “Can I?”

“Go right ahead.” The guard folded his arms and then took a couple of steps back.

Ben moved out to the door and put his hands up. “Hey Jeremy, what’s up? Where’s your cart? Someone take it?”

Jeremy hugged himself and surrendered to his nervous tick of the head. “Nope. Left it.”

Jeremy never let anyone near his cart, never mind leave it behind anywhere. “Left it? What happened?”

Then Jeremy looked at him with a streak of wild terror that almost took Ben’s breath away. “C’mon inside. I’ll fix you a sandwich and we can talk about whatever it was once you’ve warmed up.”

Jeremy tried to nod but it just made his head twitch more; Ben led him through the entrance into the light of the shelter.

The News

Rory lay awake. It was six months since the moon landing and they still had no luck in their search. They’d walked the streets and talked to the homeless, handing out flyers with quarters taped to them for phone calls. Most of the quarters would never make it to a phone booth, but it was worth a try. Anything and everything was worth trying, but the New Year came and went and Rory feared the worst—they’d never find their daughter.

Toddler, he thought, was the word that hurt the most. Imagining her so tiny and so vulnerable with no one who loved her around made his chest ache. Amy never lost her conviction that they would find her; she had boundless energy for the task. Rory dreaded the day when he’d need to stop her.

At 2am the phone rang.

“Is that Rory? Nurse Williams?”

“Yes.” After hearing himself croak, he cleared his throat.

“This is Ben Hudson, remember from the rehab clinic twenty-something years back? We met again a couple of weeks ago when you and Mrs Williams called by the shelter?”

Rory’s chest tightened. “Yes, Ben, of course. How are you?”

“I’m okay, but I need to tell you something. One of the boys was out on a hundred and thirteenth tonight, and he saw a little girl.”

Rory’s jaw dropped, and he wasn’t sure if his heart was still beating. “What did she look like?”

“About ten and white,” he said.

Rory picked up the phone and dragged it across to the bed to shake Amy awake. “Where exactly, Ben?” Rory was amazed that he could even speak, let alone form coherent sentences.

“A hundred and thirteenth and Broadway, a side alley there.”

Amy rubbed her eyes and looked at him, questioning for a moment; when she saw the phone she sat bolt upright.

“Okay, thanks Ben. We’re going to head straight over and see if it might be her.” Amy grabbed his arm and stared at him wide-eyed.

“Wait,” Ben said, still on the line. “There was one other thing, and it could just be that Jeremy has finally flipped, but he said that there was a crazy golden light coming out of her hands before he took off. Ha.”

Rory couldn’t finish the conversation. He simply hung up the phone. “Amy. It’s her.”

Lost and Found

Melody looked down at her hands, they were darker than before… and smaller and a little bit chubby. Oh. She took a deep breath; all of her pain was gone and she felt, well, wonderful. It was as though she hadn’t been fully alive until this moment, like all of her blood was finally flowing in the right direction and at the right pace. Wait. She stuck her fingers in her ears and held her breath. Two lubs, two dubs, two— So it was true!

She laughed and then immediately tried to slap a hand over her mouth, but missed. My god, she sounded like a… toddler. She took a quick look down over herself; her previously knee-length dress was pooling around her feet. Oh no, this wasn’t good.

There was movement in the trashcans behind her, and she turned around as well as she could without toppling. A mangy looking dog stalked out; he had been begging from her for days and she’d given him the odd scrap of food, but now he was looking at her as though she were meat.

Unable to get a grip of the hem of her dress, she waded in it as quickly as her little bare feet could take her and squeezed down behind the dumpster. She could hear the dog sniff and growl underneath it. She knew that if he tried hard enough he’d be able to move the dumpster so she tried to stay quiet in the hope he’d go away.

The dumpster jerked as the dog tried to push his way in, and then something all-consuming and primal took over her body; she started to bawl long heaving cries. She had no control; no rational thought could stop it. She didn’t know if it or the dog was more terrifying. But either way, the noise was spurring the dog on as he threw his body full force into the gap between the dumpster and the wall, inching it wider each time.

Suddenly the dumpster was heaved back all at once and the dog was gone. There was a man standing over her and then kneeling down in front of her. She blinked to shed the tears that were impairing her vision as her sobs quietened. Over the man’s shoulder, haloed by the streetlight, she saw a vision. She reached for it, for her, and made the only sound her new mouth produce. “Mum.”

After the Waiting

Amy dried the cups and put them in the dresser. Her head was filled with plans and her heart with longing, but she needed to give them space. Mum had been trusted instantly and implicitly, but Dad… Amy swiped the tear with her thumb before it had the chance to go anywhere. It would be all right though, she knew it. She’d seen it years earlier and years later. Melody would be Daddy’s girl; they just needed time. So she wiped the counter tops and straightened the jars and containers until she could wait no longer.

There wasn’t a sound from the living room as she pressed her palm to the door to open it softly. The low light of the table lamp made the room glow gold and the dance of bright flames in the hearth was lively and silent. Rory reclined on the sofa with Melody resting on his chest, asleep.

He carefully lifted his cheek from its position against her soft curls and looked up at Amy, tearful and happy. Amy sat in close next to them and kissed her husband. She looked down at her sleeping daughter, tiny mouth, almost lost between chubby little cheeks, puffing shallow breaths into Rory’s shoulder. Eyes rimmed with a half-moon of dark lashes closed in gentle surrender. “Should we carry her to bed?”

Her tiny back rose and fell in time with her breaths and Rory placed a protective palm over it. “Can’t we wait? Just another little while?” He put his lips to the top of the little girl’s head and closed his eyes, breathing her in. Amy moved closer and kissed each of their cheeks in turn. “Of course.”

They’d waited almost forty years for this. Bed could wait for them now.

<-- Parts 5 & 6

Current Location: Ireland, Galway
Current Mood: busybusy
( 12 comments — Leave a comment )
betawhobetawho on October 28th, 2012 10:02 pm (UTC)

I love the Daddy's girl reference, so true. And how Melody, after regenerating, still had all her thoughts, but had wade back on little bare baby feet.

And I bet that Rory would have hauled that dumpster away! Hearing her cry would definitely bring out the centurion in him.

Great stories.
EasyThereTygereasytheretyger on October 30th, 2012 08:45 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much.

Yeah, I thought other people go through regeneration with their memories intact, why would she be any different. :)
     Mandy: Eleven - Amy-Rory and Motorbikea_phoenixdragon on October 29th, 2012 12:20 am (UTC)
Gods...this is beautiful and touching and...

*Sobs quietly*

Such a gorgeous picture. so, so perfect...

EasyThereTygereasytheretyger on October 30th, 2012 08:46 pm (UTC)
Thank you, lady!
Brenda Sherrod: They know mechesneyj on October 29th, 2012 02:08 am (UTC)
I love the stories you've written. Just one thing. Phone calls from pay phones back then were a dime. Not sure what long distance would have cost.
EasyThereTygereasytheretyger on October 30th, 2012 08:47 pm (UTC)
Thanks so much. And thanks for the tip on the dimes. I never thought to research that.
Two Pounds of English Toffee: someone somewhere loves youfadingembers on October 29th, 2012 03:03 am (UTC)
So sweet and lovely :3
EasyThereTygereasytheretyger on October 30th, 2012 08:48 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much!
Katherine Joy Summers: Skystars_inthe_sky on October 29th, 2012 03:27 am (UTC)
EasyThereTygereasytheretyger on October 30th, 2012 08:59 pm (UTC)

the silver lady: Amy Rory laugh by september_iconsacciochocolate on November 2nd, 2012 08:45 am (UTC)
re: New York Shorts [Parts 7, 8, 9, 10]
You are so good at all this! Can see and hear the stories. :) And you've made me a bit teary, but in a good way.
EasyThereTygereasytheretyger on November 4th, 2012 12:52 pm (UTC)
Re: New York Shorts [Parts 7, 8, 9, 10]
Thanks so much. <3
( 12 comments — Leave a comment )