Pairings: Amy/Rory, hinted Doctor/River
Summary: As an old woman, Amy finally gets her TARDIS key.
Spoilers: Through all of series 7a
Warning: Character death
Rory went first. She remembered reading sometime in her teen years that men had lower life spans than women, but it was still shocking to her. To live without Rory. He’d been there as long as she could remember, and him not being there felt wrong. A few years after he passed away, her son asked her if she would ever consider dating or marrying again. Amy just laughed and waved him off. There had only ever been one man for her. It wouldn’t be fair, how could anyone else compare to her Rory? No, she shook her head, a smile on her lips. She would never date again. Amy couldn’t even imagine letting her lips touch another’s, it seemed insane.
Amy would visit his grave every Sunday. While others in her neighborhood went to church or temple, Amy went to her place of worship, Rory’s gravesite. There she would plop down on her fold out chair (she was too old for sitting on the ground) and she would tell him about her week. She would bring pictures of their grandchildren and tell him about how she killed a spider all by herself, wasn’t he proud?
Rarely, but sometimes, she would talk about the early years of their marriage. About the adventures and the danger and all the running. She would name the stars they saw, the planets they saved, and the aliens they met.
She didn’t notice that on the occasional Sunday, for years, there was a man standing in the shadows, watching her. Listening to her. Sometimes crying with her. He never talked to her, never allowed her to see him, but he was there. Floppy hair falling in his eyes, bowtie crooked. He didn’t like goodbyes, but this one... this one he was still having trouble leaving. Sometimes a woman was with him, wild, curly hair, sad eyes.
One, completely unspectacular Sunday, Amy walked up to the grave in her normal way, setting down the chair. Her body was hurting more than normal that day, but it didn’t stop her. She’d never missed a Sunday. As Amy settled down in the chair, she noticed something on top of the grave. Sitting there, as though it was completely normal, was a bright blue envelope. Amy could feel her heart speeding up as she stood and picked it up. The front was addressed to a name she hadn’t called herself in decades, Amelia Pond, in handwriting she still knew after all these years. Hands shaking, she opened it, pulling out the blue note card. It only had one sentence, no signature: You’ve waited long enough for one of these.
Confused, Amy felt something with weight in the envelope. Tipping it into her hand, a small key tumbled out. A simple key, one that would open a simple lock. Or, the key to the most important lock in the universe.
It was the TARDIS key.
Amy’s fist closed around it and she looked around, eyes wide. She called out, hoping he would show himself, hoping for one last goodbye. She waited for hours... but he never came. She only left when her son went out to find her and made her come home, late that evening.
Once home, Amy slipped a cord through the key and tied it around her neck. She was not going to risk losing it. Next week. He would be back next week. She knew it. One more adventure with the Doctor. One last chance to see the stars.
Two days later, Amelia Jessica Williams passed away in her sleep. Her funeral was on that Sunday, where she was laid to rest with her husband, Rory Williams. She was buried in a bright red dress (her request), her wedding bands, and the key still tied around her neck. In the back of the fairly large crowd was a young man in a bowtie and a slightly older woman, with wild hair. They didn’t talk to anyone, just stayed to themselves, staying long past everyone else leaving.
The Doctor walked up to the grave, River several steps behind him. He stood there, tears running down his cheeks silently. He touched the gravestone, and whispered, just barely loud enough for River to hear, “Come along, Pond.”