He came to her trial, as he said he would, and it threw everything the Time Agency was trying to do on its head.
Originally, they wanted to sentence her to death for what she’d done. But that was rather hard to do when the person who had been killed was up in your face telling you not to punish his murderer. Before it all had started, the Time Agency had scoffed at her when she’d said that she didn’t need a defender. They had provided her one anyway, as per their rules, and now the poor man was just standing there in shock as the Doctor strode up and down the courtroom, utterly dominating the scene.
While the Doctor argued her case, (it could never be said that he pleaded anything) her lawyer leaned over and whispered, “does he know what you’ve been accused of?”
She smiled, watching her lover prance about the room. “He knows. He doesn’t care.”
“But...why not? You’ve already admitted to killing him. I’m sorry, but if I were in his place, I’d want you dead.”
“And that’s why he’s the Doctor.”
Sentencing was swift, her transportation to Stormcage, more so. She walked calmly down the corridor, not bothering to meet the eyes of her fellow convicts. She was here to serve her time, nothing more. Though she had to admit, a two hundred year sentence was more than a little daunting.
They led her to a surprisingly spacious cage, undid her manacles, and closed the door.
“Well, then,” she said, looking at the depressing grey walls. “This is going to be fun.”
“You have no idea, darling.”
She whirled about in surprise, only to see the Doctor leaning oh-so-casually against the TARDIS in the hall across from her cell. She smiled, “Hello, Sweetie.”
“I love it when you say that.” He approached with a swagger and a saucy wink, “would you care to come with me?” He pulled out his screwdriver and opened her cell door.
“I’m not going to spend much time in here, am I?”
“Only to sleep.” He held out his hand to her, her vortex manipulator sitting in his palm. She took it gratefully, secured it to her wrist, then laced her fingers with his. “Come along, then! Just keep in mind what I said about your journal. We won’t be linear after this. I’ll pop by when it’s safe, but younger me spends a lot of time here, too.”
She just smiled at him, soaking up his presence. She knew this would be tough. With their timelines running in reverse, there was sure to come a time when he didn’t know this face. What would happen then, she didn’t know. She wouldn’t worry about that now. For now, she had his love.
It was an experience, seeing him out of order like this. Rarely did she meet the him that knew her true identity. She always knew when it was him, though. He could cup her face in his hands, kiss her sweetly, then whisper, «Bad Wolf, I love you.» Everytime. Everytime he told her he loved her, as if making up for all the time spent apart.
She loved all the time she spent with him. Every moment. Even those adventures with a him that didn’t quite trust her were fun, if only to look on in amusement as he showed off for her without wanting to admit that was what he was doing. Years passed, and her diary filled with adventures with him. Jim the fish, the Pandorica, the Crash of the Byzantium. She felt like she was writing a story, almost. The story of their lives and adventures.
She revisited his death at Lake Silencio, this time as an observer. Strange, at the time she’d not even known that there were people on the beach other than the Doctor. There were times when pretending was an absolute chore. When it was difficult not to kiss and touch him as she longed to do. But most of the time it was just fun. They flitted and flirted - he always responded to her before pausing to stare at her out of the corner of her eye as if wondering how she was able to pull such responses out of him. She enjoyed those moments the most.
Amy and Rory were there, as promised. She saw them all over their timelines. Sometimes they were married, sometimes they weren’t. Sometimes Rory was around, sometimes he wasn’t. There was a separate segment in the back she devoted just to them so she could keep track of what was going on with them. It was hideously complicated and she loved every minute of it.
Visits from future him became less and less frequent as the years rolled by, while the past versions seemed to know nothing of her but her name. The end, whatever it would be, was approaching.
Her sentence was finally up. Two hundred years of Stormcage had flown by so much faster than she’d ever thought it would. Of course, it helped that she spent maybe half of that time actually in her cell. Otherwise, she was either off on an adventure with him, or doing things that shortened her sentence. Community service had never been so much fun.
She stepped out from the transport into the sun and shaded her eyes, searching for the blue box she knew would be waiting for her. Sure enough, there it was, just in front of the apartment he’d kept current for her, with the man himself leaning against it in his nicest tuxedo with such a casual air she just had to laugh at him. He just thought he was so impressive. “Hello, Sweetie. Nice haircut. We going somewhere fun?”
“Always.” He leaned down, cupping her face in his hands. She made a happy sound in the back of her throat. She knew what was coming next. He placed a light kiss on her lips. «Bad Wolf, I love you.»
She sighed and wrapped her arms around him. She hadn’t seen this him in over thirty years. «Doctor, I love you.»
He snapped his fingers and the doors opened. She giggled and swept inside as he dipped into a gallant bow. “My lady.”
“Whew!” she said, depositing her small bag of items inside the nearest hallway. “I am glad that’s over.”
He sent them into the vortex and then danced towards her, catching her up in his arms and twirling her about the console. “Today, my dear, we are going to the Singing Towers of Darillium, in celebration of your release.”
She gasped in pleasant surprise. “Finally! You’ve been promising for ages.”
He grinned and danced them out of the console room and down the hallway towards the wardrobe room. Their laughter echoed down the hallways as they reveled in the joy of being together again. He gave her one final spin before bending over her hand; then ruined the effect by smacking a wet and sloppy kiss down on the back it.
She laughed again before extracting her hand, giving him a flirtatious wink and sailing away to pick out a dress.
He kept up his happy exuberance until he was well away from her. Then his mask fell, revealing the fear he kept buried underneath. From his pocket he pulled a very specific screwdriver. He studied it for one long moment before putting it away. “I really hope this works,” he mumbled.