Screeching To A Halt (Book Eight of The Bad Wolf Chronicles)

Penny Drops

I cried. That's all I really have to say about this. Definitely not one of my happier interludes.

***

Wanda was still as white as a sheet as she curled up into her brother that evening. "She was so . . . " Her voice grew quieter as she tried to describe how the Time Lady she looked up to had felt. "Distraught," she finally decided on.

Phil Coulson, who had brought his team to check in with the Avengers, raised an eyebrow. "Jessie, distraught? That doesn't happen often."

"That depends on what's happened," Melinda May pointed out.

"But she has rarely felt like this," Wanda shook her head. "It was something big."

"I don't know what it could possibly have been," Martha frowned.

"But you are all right, Wanda?" Vision asked.

"I'm fine, Visz," Wanda smiled.

"I'm worried, though," Jemma said as she checked her phone. "There's been nothing from Amy and Rory for a week. They usually send something every few days updating what's been happening."

"There's a reason for that."

Wanda didn't even recognize the voice behind her. In a flash, she stood and turned around, her eyes widening as she took in the Doctor's face. His face was the saddest she had ever seen. "Doctor," she breathed, running to give him a hug.

"Wanda," he answered, hugging her back, squeezing his eyes shut. "You knew."

"I could feel it," she pulled back. "What she felt . . . "

"Was heartbreaking," his voice cracked. "But with what's happened . . . "

Wanda's heart fell into her stomach. "What is it? What's wrong?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Jemma. Fitz."

"What?" Jemma's eyes slowly widened as Fitz did a double take. The Doctor hadn't called him Fizzy . . . it had to be serious. "Doctor, what is it?"

"Where's Jessie?" Steve looked around.

"She's got the TARDIS," the Doctor answered. "She had a stop to make."

"Where?"

"Doctor, what's happened?" Fitz stood. "Doctor, tell us what's going on."

The Doctor took a shaky breath. "Better to show you than tell you."

***

Brian looked up from watering the plants in the Ponds' house when he heard the doorbell ring. Frowning, he went to the door and opened it. Standing there, wearing an old-fashioned suit, was a man in his mid-sixties. "Mr. Brian Williams?" he asked in a New York accent.

"Yes," Brian frowned. "How did you know I was here? This isn't my house."

"This is for you," the man held up an envelope.

Brian stared at the envelope, seeing who it was addressed to in familiar handwriting - Dad. "I don't understand," he whispered.

"You should read it," the man said. "I'll wait."

Brian stared at him, surprised, as he walked in past him, then he turned and sat on the sofa in the lounge, opening the letter. His eyes widened as he read the familiar handwriting.

"Dear Dad. This is the difficult bit. If I've got this right, you're reading this letter a week after we left in the TARDIS. Er . . . the thing is, we're not coming back. We're alive and stuck in New York fifty years before I was born. We can't come home again. I won't ever see you again, and that breaks my heart. I'm so sorry, Dad. I thought about this for years, and I realized there was one thing I could do. I could write to you. Tell you everything about how we lived. How despite it all, we were happy. But before I do, I need you to know you are the best dad any son could've had, and for all the times I've drove you mad, and you drove me mad, all the times I snapped at you, I'm sorry. I miss everything about you. Especially our awkward hugs. I brought a trowel! We have a small yard. I garden. But one more important bit of business. The man who delivered this letter, Anthony, be nice to him, because he's your grandson." Brian's eyes widened as he saw the picture that came with the letter: a photograph of Rory and Amy, a small baby with them. "We finally adopted in 1946. Anthony Brian Williams. He can tell you everything. He'll have the family albums, and I realize having a grandson who's older than you is so far beyond weird, but I'm sorry. I love you, Dad. I miss you."