There was something comforting about staying at Jack’s. It was nice being in close proximity to someone who could remember and though she loved Rory she knew every time she told him about a dream or a resurfacing memory it only added to the burden on his own block. Jack was had no blockades remaining (and, arguably none to ever start) - so whispered conversations or excited trading of tales when Rory was working had suited them incredibly well.
To be completely honest, having to hide away in Jack’s place came just in time. It saved her. Saved her from a pit of despair no one could really reach her in. Talking about the Doctor helped. Funny how he managed to find a way to help even when he wasn’t himself. But those weeks of grief hadn’t dissipated and Amy had certainly made some decisions that were going to bite her.
Sooner than she expected, more than she had anticipated.
A drunken phone call with her mother brought about an onslaught of attempts for communication from her family. They had been going through such a nice patch too, she hadn’t worried them and they hadn’t bothered her. That one phone call killed everything. It was enough for Amy to swear off drinking for the rest of eternity.
Well, almost enough.
In all fairness she still had a dead stolen daughter and a fiance who seemed to becoming progressively more crippled under the weight of too many lives lived.
Which might have been the subject of said detrimental telephone call.
The bite came swift.
Amy shifted the groceries in her arms, it was another thank you dinner for Jack, a comfort dish for Rory was also in order. She had been so occupied she nearly hadn’t noticed the feeling of being followed.
Bleeding hell, she thought, just another thing she needed. Her footsteps quickened, she kept her posture straight and her demeanor calm. Was this the threat that had been breathing down the Doctor’s neck so fiercely that he had to break laws of time and parallel worlds?
Jack’s flat was only a few feet away.
Who had he pissed off this time? It could be a whole plethora of beings. Daleks, cybermen, minotaurs. So long as the Angels steered clear she would be perfectly fine facing any of them. In fact she was getting quite exhausted from her facade. Actually it was only managing to tick her off.
"Here’s the thing, I am in no mood to do the whole alien ab -" Amy whipped around and froze.
Aunt Sharon seemed out of breath and wholly perturbed even moreso than Amy had been feeling a moment earlier. “Hello Amy.”
"Duction thing," the red head finished, not noticing much that the bags had come tumbling from her arms.
"Let’s talk about your doctor, shall we?"