"There's no living with you, honestly," he sighs softly in exasperation, though they both know he's not really annoyed.
Though, he goes a bit quiet himself at the mention of River.
"River, is she - she was gone. I had to say goodbye," he admits softly. Amy will understand, surely; he had to do the thing he loathes - he had to acknowledge he would never see her again.
Amy goes quiet; rare, for her. Staring at the console, she flips a few switches before finally speaking again.
"She told me. Before I woke up from the dream, she told me." She looks at him, grief he'll know and understand there in her eyes. "I never even got to raise her and now she's dead. Well. Uploaded."
Turning, Amy crosses her arms over herself. "But it doesn't matter because to her, we'd already been gone a long, long time. Except that I could tell myself she would be fine forever." She looks back at The Doctor.
"Of course it matters. She was yours, you were hers. Hundreds of years separate you now, but that means nothing with grief." He should know. He reaches out to hug Amy for a moment.
"She was a good girl. Brave, like her mother. She saved everyone." He won't tell her much, wanting to spare Amy the details; it's the least he can do, if he couldn't save her daughter to begin with.
"She wouldn't be mine if she hadn't at least done that."
Amy says that even as she's hugging him, and she closes her eyes, turning so that she's tucked just a little bit closer. But she does finally pull back, turning and clapping her hands together.
"I saw we go to a brand new planet, something new, something far. Cause trouble."
"Amelia Pond, let's get one thing straight between us," he holds her gaze for just a moment before moving to the console. "I do not, under any circumstances-" He pauses, and anyone else might assume he's about to insist that he doesn't cause trouble, but it's quite the opposite.
With a grin, simply spins a knob and looks up at the lights. "Oh, let her choose, it doesn't matter. As long as there's something waiting for us on the other side."
It's so easy to fall back into this, a life she never truly wanted to give up, once she'd tried to balance. It's bittersweet because Rory should be here, but Amy can't deny the thrill of it all - rocketing off and never knowing what would happen. In a way, she'd been chasing that in her books, writing words of adventures for all of the children with no Doctors.
"Oh, she'll make sure of that." He looks up at the column in the middle of the console, watching it light up, shimmer and shine, before looking over at Amy and just watching her for a moment. He never thought he'd see her again, but she's right here. Maybe not for very long, but even just a day with her is gift enough.
"We could have done this forever," he murmurs softly. Traveled the universe, never stopping, just exploring forever. Until the end of him, at least.
"I know. But then there wouldn't have been me and Rory, and there wouldn't have been you and Claire," Amy points out.
"But I really would have liked that, you know? The three of us, always. I think I always thought we'd figure it out one day, that it would never really end and we could live two lives."
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Though, he goes a bit quiet himself at the mention of River.
"River, is she - she was gone. I had to say goodbye," he admits softly. Amy will understand, surely; he had to do the thing he loathes - he had to acknowledge he would never see her again.
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"She told me. Before I woke up from the dream, she told me." She looks at him, grief he'll know and understand there in her eyes. "I never even got to raise her and now she's dead. Well. Uploaded."
Turning, Amy crosses her arms over herself. "But it doesn't matter because to her, we'd already been gone a long, long time. Except that I could tell myself she would be fine forever." She looks back at The Doctor.
"Fairytales."
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"She was a good girl. Brave, like her mother. She saved everyone." He won't tell her much, wanting to spare Amy the details; it's the least he can do, if he couldn't save her daughter to begin with.
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Amy says that even as she's hugging him, and she closes her eyes, turning so that she's tucked just a little bit closer. But she does finally pull back, turning and clapping her hands together.
"I saw we go to a brand new planet, something new, something far. Cause trouble."
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"-stop causing trouble. Now. Where should we go?"
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It's so easy to fall back into this, a life she never truly wanted to give up, once she'd tried to balance. It's bittersweet because Rory should be here, but Amy can't deny the thrill of it all - rocketing off and never knowing what would happen. In a way, she'd been chasing that in her books, writing words of adventures for all of the children with no Doctors.
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"We could have done this forever," he murmurs softly. Traveled the universe, never stopping, just exploring forever. Until the end of him, at least.
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"But I really would have liked that, you know? The three of us, always. I think I always thought we'd figure it out one day, that it would never really end and we could live two lives."