This is the story of a Doctor and his wife—of two people broken by the deaths of their closest friends.

It was one night not too long afterwards that the woman found the man slumped in a chair—eyes glazed over, exhaustion etched in every feature—in the TARDIS's console room.

"Go to bed, my love," she suggested gently, laying her hand on his shoulder. "Try to get some rest."

"I can't, River. I just can't. And do you know what makes me feel worse? Losing companions isn't a new thing—"


"—it's happened to other Doctors before, but I'm sitting around thinking about Amy and Rory all bloody day—"

"Doctor, I'm warning you—"

"and they were your parents—"

"For God's sake, sweetie, please just shut up!"

The Doctor slumped back against the chair. "Happy to oblige, m'lady."

River smiled, though it did feel rather forced. "I think we just need to stop thinking about it altogether, maybe go kill some dictators, see the parts of the universe we hav—"

The rest of her sentence was cut off by the Doctor throwing his arms around her so tightly she couldn't breathe. She didn't care, though—she was tired of being strong. She wanted to break down, too.

The two of them needed each other to make themselves whole again.

Gradually, the nightmares stopped and the days got better—and River and the Doctor never forgot Amy and Rory, but they learned to live through the pain.

They learned together.

And somewhere far away, somewhere even the TARDIS couldn't travel, Amy and Rory smiled as they watched their Doctor and their daughter, waiting for the day when they would finally come home.