Silently, the Doctor released Amy's hands and turned back up the hill. The three of them walked side by side, River holding her husband's arm. Her curly hair brushed his face as she whispered something Amy could not hear. There were many sounds behind them – carriage wheels and horses' hooves, voices, a snatch of music – but they walked inside a bubble of quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.

By the time they reached the TARDIS, Amy could breathe easier again. As they entered and ranged themselves around the console, she cleared her throat to ask one more question.

"River, your parents … Amelia and Rory … what happened to them?"

The Doctor disappeared down a staircase, his face turned away. River bowed her head and took a few moments to answer, but when she met Amy's eyes, her face was almost calm. Only some faint lines at the corners of her mouth betrayed what she was feeling.

"Amy – Amelia – found a job in the literary industry. A publisher – science fiction and fantasy, that sort of thing. Rory kept on working as a nurse. They lived to an old age together, into their eighties. They were … I believe they were happy."

All common sense aside, for a moment Amy found it very hard to be contented with these news. It was one thing to know, in the abstract, that her favorite cousin – along with the rest of her family, her friends and Jason – had been dead for centuries. It was another thing to be told.

She thought of Amelia Pond, her namesake, with her ruby-red nails and the lively melody of her accent; jogging together down the cloudy streets of England and the sunny avenues of Florida; gossiping over a bowl of fish fingers and custard. She thought of Rory Williams, nicknamed "Mr. Pond" for his gallant respect towards his wife; smelling of Lysol and corduroy; watching the news with his eyes open for any alien activity; quietly embarrassed, one morning, to be caught doing fencing drills in the garden before sunrise.

At least they had stayed together. There was a comfort in that.

"So!" The Doctor's abrupt call as he stuck his head above the staircase made them both jump. For the moment, he was a boy again, grinning madly, his hair and bow tie askew. "Now that the Old Girl's made up her mind to fly again, where shall we go next? One more trip, Amy Martin, eh? What do you say?"

The idea was chance to see Earth again, walk along the canyons of Colorado and the beaches of Florida, see her grandmother before the Alzheimer's set in, maybe even confront Jason about his cheating, and most especially to tell Rory and Amelia how much she loved them – was like offering a feast to a starving woman. She had already opened her mouth to say yes when two things silenced her.

Elder, she thought. What would he do without her? And – most alarmingly – what would she do without him?

The second thing was River, folding her arms and shaking her head.

"I think she'd better not," said River. "Sorry, Amy."

"Why not?" Amy and the Doctor chorused.

"It's too soon, Doctor." River's voice dropped to a whisper, possibly to prevent Amy from listening, but she still heard every word. "You know what happens when you try to do this. Think of Rose and Martha." Darting an anxious look at Amy, she cut herself off.

Catching sight of her redheaded reflection in the TARDIS console, Amy realized why. She took too much after the Pond side of the family. Replacing Amelia with Amy would not improve the Doctor's precarious peace of mind.

The Doctor glared at his wife, then sighed as he put his hands on her shoulders. "River, why do you always have to be right?"

"Wifely intuition, sweetie." She kissed his cheek. "Don't worry. You'll find somebody when the time is right."

Amy looked away. Frex. There went her last chance to say goodbye. Centauri-Earth had better be worth it.

Thinking in Godspeed terms, however, brought her back to Elder. She must have been gone a while by now. Did he miss her? Was he afraid she'd been attacked by one of his xenophobic subjects? And Victria, pregnant and terrified, how was she coping? Would anyone else understand what Victria was going through?

She thought of Elder watching the stars by the release hatch, and her throat constricted. She did not want to leave him.

How had she put down roots on that floating disaster without even trying?

"Take me back to the ship, please," she said.

"Are you sure?"

River's voice was low and kind, her eyes full of understanding. She knew exactly how hard it was to give up this chance.

"As you said … Elder needs me. And I … " She felt a blush coming on and ducked her head. "I care about him. A lot."

"I see."

River nodded to the Doctor, who immediately started in on the TARDIS console like a hyperactive pianist. It took less than a minute for the time machine to shudder in and out of the Vortex. With all the gravity of a host at a dinner party, the Doctor opened the door and gestured grandly for Amy to pass through. Beyond him, she saw the cryo level just as she had left it: little metal doors, white walls, the smell of chemicals. Her parents' resting place. Her and Elder's window to the stars.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Amy Martin," said the Doctor.

"Um … thanks. You, too," politely ignoring the fact that for her, it was not their first meeting at all. "Thank you for the ride."

To her surprise, he bent down, took her face between his hands, and kissed her forehead like a father or an uncle – then took a rapid step back on his long legs, looking deeply embarrassed by the display.

"We'll see each other again, little cousin," River whispered as they hugged each other goodbye. "I promise. Until then – don't forget."

"As if I could!" were Amy's last words before walking out the door.