A/N: I'm not sure where this wants to go. I have another scene written and ideas for at least two more. Feedback would be much appreciated, even if it's just a frowny face. I don't own Doctor Who and make no profit from this story. (If anything, this story owns me). Title from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Caroll.
Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one - Albert Einstein
It's raining again.
She can't see it. Can't watch the soft pitter-patter of the raindrops race down a window. There are no windows in her room. She can hear the drops as they impact on the ground outside. Splat, splash, spatter.
She likes the rain. It never rains when she's not drifting. But it's always raining when she comes back. Rain means she's really here. It means she can act like a girl again. Not like a pirate or an adventurer. She's not sure which version of herself she likes best. (Actually that's a lie, she knows. But she shouldn't like herself when she's away, so she says she doesn't – some days she even believes her lie). Nobody is visiting her today. Where is Rory? She wants Rory.
Rory does not come.
Perhaps she might stay to see the rain stop this time. See the sun break through all the clouds. That would make the doctor happy. He always likes to see her enjoying the sunlight. Perhaps, this time she can hang on long enough. Keep her grip. Perhaps...
In a windowless room on the third floor of a secure building, Amy Pond slips away into dreams.
"Daydreaming again Pond?" the Doctor asks with a smile. "Is the universe not holding your attention?"
Amy opens her eyes. She's standing outside of the TARDIS, Rory and the Doctor are looking at her with concern in their eyes. Rory is holding her hand.
"It's sunny. It wasn't sunny a second ago!" She exclaims.
Her boys exchange a look.
"Amy," Rory begins gently, "It's always been sunny. Something to do with the atmosphere here, the Doctor explained earlier. Don't you remember?"
He looks worried. The Doctor is fiddling with his screwdriver. He looks worried as well.
"Of course. I remember, I just could have sworn it was raining a second ago. Must be seeing things. Never mind me, you moron, " Amy laughs. Of course it wasn't raining. Why would it be raining?
They enter the console room. A soothing hum slides across the surface of her mind, not truly perceived, a half-heard melody of comfort.
"Right! Where to next Ponds? How about trying for Rio again? Or Barcelona? – the planet mind, not the city. Did I ever tell you about the dogs with no noses? Lovely place Barcelona." The Doctor is whirling around the console again, tweed jacket flying behind him as he spins dervish-like, hitting buttons and pulling levers like the madman he is.
"You pick Doctor. I want somewhere with snow. We haven't had any decent snow for ages now." Amy says with a smile. "Just...take your time yeah? I feel like having a nap."
The Doctor nods, and with a last glance at Rory, she leaves the main room.
Rory is shaking her awake, telling her they've arrived. The Doctor has taken them to an Ice Age re-creation exhibit. (Now featuring genuine Mammoths! The cheery sign outside proclaims. She wonders what they had before, imaginary Mammoths?)
Looking round the exhibit takes all day, maybe longer. Time is fluid here. Malleable, like clay. The Doctor is a sculptor, forming pleasing shapes she cannot admire. Whorls and dips in a dimension she does not perceive. She feels like she can see it sometimes, a mirage in the corner of her eye, never there when she turns her head. She catches glimpses of many things that she wishes she could ignore. Sometimes what she sees feels more real than reality. How is that possible? How can something be more real than reality?
Time moves on. The worlds they stand upon continue to turn at impossible speeds beneath their feet.
Faces at the door.
Judging faces.
Is she stable? Is she grounded?
They ask her questions.
She doesn't like them asking questions. Of course I saw the Doctor today, we visited Van Gogh. I gave him sunflowers.
Nobody mentions her husband.
She asks if she can go outside.
They don't answer.
She wants to see the stars.
What else did you see Amy? Did you see River? Or the Blue Box?
It's called a TARDIS! Time And Relative Dimension In Space.
They make notes. Ink-dipped spiders run across pages, leave behind scribbles. Jargon and gibberish spouts from painted mouths. Words are problematic.
There is a crack in the wall. Two parts of space and time that should never have touched.
The fog is returning. Time to sleep. Breathe in the drugged air. Pleasing warmth of limbs weighted down with weariness.
The Angels are coming.
Her eyes snap open.
Don't blink!
How do you know you're dreaming, if you've been asleep all your life?