The Pale Cage

Epilogue

Well, it has been a good adventure. Thank you for following me all the way and thank you for all of your feedback! But now it is time for this story to come to an end. I hope you enjoy this final part.

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Raeburn awoke, barely refreshed from his dream infested sleep during the night. He needed to work on that. He was meant to be in a healing coma, but his hearts just would not cooperate. It was early, just a little after five in the morning, if his time sense was right – and it was.

The sound of another person's breath in the room compelled his gaze up. A blurred figure stood by the doorway leading out of the living room. At first, Raeburn thought it was Amelia. She had stood there for a long time the night before, watching him. Amy's fear that Raeburn would disappear wasn't surprising. Raeburn's decision was very out of character, the Doctor would never stay in one place forever. But Raeburn didn't have the TARDIS and a vortex manipulator was a rubbish way to time travel, especially for companions. Raeburn knew his time in one place would be difficult, but it was time: time for him to stand still and face life in linear form. He would do what he wanted to do and maybe even learn about himself.

The figure by the door was not Amelia. The silhouette was considerably shorter, with short curly hair. Raeburn patiently waited for his eyes to focus and soon Raeburn could tell that the shape was that of a boy. He had a gruff expression on, Raeburn could tell he was nervous by the slight shake of his fists. Raeburn gingerly sat up, his shoulder protested at the movement, sending flashes of memory of how the wound came to be. Raeburn grimaced at the slow falling image of Roangy, blood soaked. Raeburn shook his head, sending the image to the very back of his mind.

“Who are you?” The boy asked.

His words reminded Raeburn that there was an unknown child before him. Raeburn looked up at the boy who had taken an unsure step towards Raeburn's place on the couch. The dull glow of the dawn hidden behind clouds gave just enough light for Raeburn to see dark gray brown eyes look back. His brown curly hair rippled at his movement like a wind through a thousand paper thin springs. The boy was lanky and skinny, but his eyebrows were intense, filled with distrust. He wore a cardigan that went over a very neatly ironed and well kept dress shirt. His trousers were without a wrinkle, crease or stain.

“My name is Montmore, what's yours?”

He chewed on the inside of his mouth and didn't answer him instead he demanded, “What are you doing on my couch?”

“I didn't know this was your couch. I was just resting on it.”

“It belongs to my Mum and Dad, it doesn't belong to you.” He insisted. “How did you get in here? Dad always locks up. Are you moocher? You need to leave.”

Raeburn's expression softened. “Your Mum and Dad...are they Rory and Amelia?” Raeburn smiled when the boy nodded and he continued, “They didn't tell me they had a son.”

“I'm not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“That is very true and very wise.” Raeburn nodded. “But I'm not a stranger. Look at my clothes, I've borrowed them from your Dad. And your Mum set me up this nice bed couch...couch bed...couch for a bed. I'm a good friend of your Mum and Dad and they let me stay over.”

“Why didn't they tell me?” The boy asked, still suspicious.

“I got in very late and they weren't expecting me...You were probably asleep. The real question is -- why didn't they tell me about you?”

The boy thought about this while chewing on his inner cheek. Then with a shrug he answered, “I'm Anthony.”

“Nice to meet you, Anthony.” Raeburn held a hand out and Anthony took it. “What are you doing up so early?”