A/N: Too many feels to put in one author's note! I couldn't have done this half as well without tomorrowsong Beta-reading.

Since I can't write second-person without breaking rules, I'm including the Doctor's name as an address at the top of every chapter so that it's clear who it's actually directed towards.

Please don't read the note following this one unless you work for the site, as it's just there as a technicality.

Thank you a thousand times, and enjoy!

oOo

A/N: TO FF.N MODERATORS -IMPORTANT- I have a note of hesitant permission from you to write this story in letter format. It seems written in second person, but since it's directed towards a character, it's different.

After emailing the site asking, "I was wondering if I could write a story/letter addressed to a character in a TV show. For instance, I would address them by their name, and then give them a chapter of their lives, told back to them," I received the reply:

"If you are writing a long letter to a single character then it should be ok."

This story is a long letter to a single character. However, it's not strictly a letter in the truest sense of the word, since I'm writing their life to them in high detail. Feel free to message me if you don't like the way I'm going about this, but I thought I'd just say for reference that I DID ask for permission.

Thanks so much for your time!

oOo Doctor, oOo

It's like a tank, the life support. You sit, dry, watching the wet inside it. Hand on the cold glass, see the silver bubbles - like the Silence, like the places you kept the Silence the day you married her. No, don't think about that. Not the Silence. Forget them.

You crack a smile. Forget the Silence. For anyone else, it would be mandatory. But for you, it's a wish. If you could forget what was coming, at Trenzalore …

Don't, don't think about it. Shut up.

And, of course, with "don't think about it" comes River.

Your hand is shaking as you reach for the communicator, as you flip it open. Distract yourself, distract yourself, distract yourself - pick it up, Pond, pick up already!

"Hello?"

"Amelia!"

"Doctor? What - what's - up?"

Laugh a little - voice dry and hoarse. Clear your throat. "What would you think if I told you you were a grandmother?"

She shrieks a little and you try to laugh again.

"A grandmother?" Her voice has gone up a few octaves. "You can't do this to me! I'm not even thirty!"

"It isn't really funny," you admit, killing the moment.

"Doctor, what have you done?" She says, still facetious.

"River's gone," you say.

There's no sound but the hum of the life support beside you and the wet growl of the bubbles in the apparatus.

"What?" Amy says.

"She went to Darillium."

The other line is quiet, then Amy sniffs and says, "But - won't she turn up again?"

"Maybe."

There was nothing left in her diary. You liar. You… liar.

The quiet is even longer this time. Finally, Amy speaks in a small voice (Pond, using a small voice - the world's ending…) - "So how'd you have a baby, if River's gone?"

"I persuaded her to put him in an external life support system."

"Him? It's a boy, then? And how - when-" she sighs. "Doctor."

"I'll pick you up," you say, pitying the plea and the misery in that last word.

The Ponds' road. It's so mundane, so peaceful, that you're sad to break up the quiet with the groan of your TARDIS.

Door creaks open, pop your head out, and, before you can even take in your bearings, Amy's there. She flings her arms around you and hugs tight, and you return the embrace with eyes shut, and an extra, desperate squeeze.

"What exactly's going on?" She says, still quiet as before.

"Tell you when we get there," you say, and press your face against the scarf she's wearing, filling yourself with the scent of home. These are your parents (-in-law, but does that really matter? You need a family right now).

"Doctor?" Rory says, coming up beside you. You don't reply, except to hold out an arm to invite him in, making it a group hug.

For what seems a long while, you all just stand there, and then the moment's over and you draw back.

"So," Amy says, running a finger under her eye. "River's gone."

"I'm sorry," you say, voice husky.

"And what's this about a baby?" Rory asks.

You turn and go inside the TARDIS without answering, and they follow - up the few stairs to the flight deck, where Amy plunks herself down on the seat, Rory beside her.

"Good to be back in here," Amy says, leaning forward from her seat to plant a light little kiss on the console. "How have you been?"

You begin to answer, but then the TARDIS whirs loudly and slightly mournfully in response and you realize the question wasn't directed at you.

"Where are we going?" Rory asks.

"Tatania Three," you say, setting the ship in flight and punching a stabilizer - both for the sake of quiet conversation, and in memory of the woman who taught you to use those little blue buttons. "Planet with the best hospital I know. Run by the Sisters of the Infinite Schism. We've been there before."

"Doctor, what is going on?" Amy gets up and walks around to you, pushing the monitor you were aimlessly reading away and taking your hands.

"Come take a look," you say, as your TARDIS emits her familiar grating sound and you land.

It's quiet in the ward, extremely quiet. Lights, too bright, floor, too white. Amy and Rory step out of the TARDIS, and you stay near the doors, leaning against the beautiful blue wood and watching the new grandparents discover their daughter's baby.

They're clearly disconcerted by the glass-and-metal life-support system, but after approaching cautiously, they press their hands against the smooth windows where the wires and the steel framework part, and look in on the gorgeous little life in there.

"Doctor." Amy turns around. "Why's he in this thing?"

"He isn't born yet," you reply, checking your watch. "He isn't due for months."

"Explain," she says, emotions clearly threatening getting the better of her.

You stuff your hands in your pockets and walk over to join them. "River's DNA, along with scans of her pregnant body I got from the TARDIS, gave the nurses here enough information to construct a safe place for the baby to survive outside of his mother. It's not unheard-of in the fifty-first century."

"That is so creepy," Rory says.

You shrug. "Yeah. I suppose. But look at him."

You all stare for a minute. The forming body, little eyes, tiny fingers - all so small and already so detailed. And after so long, a child. It's more - so much more - than you hoped, than you dreamed. And it hurts. Because he reminds you of them. The ones the Daleks killed, and the ones you killed, and Jenny, who died to save you. It's all your fault. You want to run.

Rule seven. Never run when you're scared.

Instead, kneel down and dream of what your son will be.

Rory and Amy refuse to leave the TARDIS when you bring them back home. They say they're staying where they can get to the fifty-first century and watch their grand-baby grow. You can't blame them - did you ever leave when Susan was expected? So you let them stay, and, after begging the TARDIS to save the places you "need to go" for later, head off to some nice, peaceful planet.

She out-does herself, and takes you somewhere you've never been before. It's the shore of a restless grey sea, the whole beach made of glass. You see crackling electric storms in the distance, moving away through the bruised purple sky, and, after some scans with your screwdriver and information from the TARDIS, find out that this used to be sand, but was melted into sheets of glass when lightning struck.

"Beautiful," you say, and the Ponds agree.

Amy finds a picnic basket somewhere in the kitchen, and you eat lunch on the beach, watching the water wash against the glass.

"Promise there aren't going to be any creepy astronauts this picnic?" Amy says, and you give your word that you're not planning on dying.

"So, tell us," Rory says. "What happened?"

You swallow unnecessarily, and Amy rubs a hand along your shoulders in comfort.

"River-" Your voice starts out as an involuntary whisper, and you clear your throat. "River told me she was pregnant at Darillium. I supposed I screwed up time a bit getting her to the hospital - in the Library, she told me that - that Darillium was the last place she saw me, but I changed that to Tatania Three. Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey - I don't think it matters. She'll have the sense to tell me about Dar- what I need to know. Weird thing is, it didn't take an awful lot of convincing. I think… she knew there was something I wasn't telling her. At any rate, it was basic safety - the trips she takes - took - were dangerous."

"Are you all right?" Rory asks.

Smile. "Are you?"

"Not really."

A cloud shades the sun, and you all sit looking out at the ocean. Then the pale light peeks through again, and Amy asks if you and River talked about naming the child.

"River wanted to name him after me," you say. "I wasn't too keen on the idea, but I think -" you shrug. "If she wanted it."

Amy chokes on a sip of juice. "Excuse me - I'm not having a grandson named 'Doctor'!"

"No, not Doctor! Theta."

"Theta?"

"It's Gallifreyan."

"That's the big deal? That's your huge secret? That you're really called Theta? It's not even that bad."

"It's not bad at all," you sniff. "It's a very dignified name."

"So why are you so ashamed of it that you'd go by "Doctor" all your life?"

"Theta's not my real name," you say. "It's my novice title. It's what people called me when I was a child."

"So, would your son change his name, too, when he gets older?"

"I don't think so. The Gallifreyan school system's been abolished, so I think the name-rituals should be, too. But he can do it if he wants. When he's a hundred."

"A hundred! So, his lifespan will be like yours?"

You take a sip from your glass and savour it, letting the silence stretch longer and longer.

"Doctor?" Amy says.

"I don't know," you say.

"You're lying."

"I always lie."

"Please, not about our grandson."

"Both River and I were almost immortal, compared to most species. Barring accidents, we could have lived three or four thousand years each, at the start. But accidents happen."

"So…" Amy runs a finger along the edge of her glass. "Theta's safe, then? If that's what we're calling him."

You force another smile. "Safe and sound."

oOo

A/N: I'm planning on updating this every Saturday (you don't have to worry about it going unfinished - it's pre-written). Thanks for reading!