#(anthony thread)

“Amelia Pond? That’s you, yes?”

Anthony had debated on who to see first. He had three letters from his father to deliver. Three people who were the most important people to Rory Williams. Despite all her faults, Agatha Williams had been someone Rory had come to understand, in a way. Or at the very least accept. Her letter would be last, as she needed the most explaining to. And Rory had told his son it might be best to confront her with his grand-dad. Brian would understand. Agatha hadn’t been in Rory’s life as much. But she was still his mother. She deserved to know.

As for Amelia... Amy... The great love of his father’s life, the woman who should have been his mother... Anthony had to meet her for himself. She needed to be first. Because if not, he’d loose the courage to confront her. And his father deserved a hell of a lot more than that.

He took a deep breath. He was 70 years old. He had waited almost 30 years to deliver this message. All his life to meet this woman.

He took a yellowed envelope from his jacket pocket, handing it out to the young woman.

“I’m Anthony Williams. Rory Williams’ son. I have a letter for you.”

Anthony Williams had gone from struggling author and playwright to wildly successful in the early 1990s with his hit romantic musical “The Lovers That Waited”. A tragic, comedic, impossible heartfelt tale of two kids who fall in love and by some wild circumstance the husband is sent back two thousand years into the past with his wife trapped in a box. They must wait until the box opens, two un-aging souls, desperately in love, unable to answer one another and yet so perfectly in tune they can somehow still know what the other is thinking. Anthony never had another play quiet as inspirational or as massively popular as that one, but it didn’t much matter to Anthony. His dad had been able to hear some of it before he passed. His mother lived just long enough to see him win a Tony for best musical. He wrote music, lyrics and novels and poetry. He was successful enough to live comfortably in the apartment in the city he had grown up in. 

It was the year 2022 and Anthony Williams was 76 years old. He often wondered, once the new year came along, walking down the street, waiting in line at the deli, boarding the subway, if he’d spot a familiar face. One that he couldn’t imagine would recognize him. Either from timelines not yet meeting up or the fact that he was now an old man.

He never expected Bill Davies to ring his doorbell. The surprise was evident on his weathered face before he reached up and took Bill’s face in his hands, like a grandfather might, not seeing his grand kid in so many years. He was about Bill’s height now, maybe an inch shorter, having lost a few thanks to old age.

“Well... would you look at that. Hey, Bill.” Anthony pulled the kid in for a hug, tight and suddenly felt emotional. “How are ya, kid? It’s good to see you.”

“We could have done something. You could have done something, Doc...” Anthony shook his head, lost and angry and confused at the Doctor’s refusal to help. His parents had told him how amazing their adventures had been, how they really owed everything to the Doctor. How they had turned their tragedy of being lost in time to one of the greatest gifts of all... finding a baby boy who needed parents. 

He understood the darker themes of the stories his parents told him now. The far away look his father sometimes had when he’d talk about history lessons at school. The lost day dreaming he caught his mother doing when doing laundry and that particular shade of blue their dining room tablecloth was.