Author Notes: So, this is my first ever Doctor Who story, because I really do love the dynamics between the Doctor, Amy and Rory in the new series. It's the first time that I've felt I could really create fic out of the relationships in the series (that, and my beta has been demanding a fic like this since the series aired...). Anyway, I really hope you like it, and that the characters are all in keeping. This is set post end of series 5. Enjoy!
Keeping Faith
It was too surreal. Of course, travelling with the Doctor meant you usually expected things to go downhill pretty fast, but not like this. Rory's heart was screaming from both fear and adrenaline as he and the Doctor dodged and weaved through the thronging crowds, running full pelt to try and reach their goal. The crowds thickened, bright colours and blurs. Rory stumbled, only to have his upper arm grasped and feel himself steadied by the Doctor as he wrenched him through a tiny gap in the people. It was then that Rory caught a glimpse of the Doctor's eyes for the first time since they have worked out what was going on. He was angry, beyond angry, and Rory knew that diplomacy was not what they were here for. He pitied their hosts. Almost.
These people had welcomed, smiled, tricked and lied. And now...Amy... Rory didn't even want to think what would have happened if the Doctor, with his Timelord hearing attuned to everything involving his companions, hadn't overheard those two discussing it from afar.
And then, amidst the shouting that rose in a crescendo with every frantic footstep, Rory heard another voice, a clear, angry outcry; Amy. When they finally pushed into view, Rory's stomach dropped, and he couldn't stop his breath from catching in his throat with a sick jolt, "Oh God – Amy!"
There was his wife, red hair whipping away from her face in the swirling hot wind. She was stood on a wooden platform, under which bracken and bundles had been piled. She was pressed with her back straight against a tall stake, hands bound, but chin still high. Her eyes glittered in the bright sun, both from anger, and from tears she would never let fall, lest it bring the crowds satisfaction.
Why had Rory let himself be taken in by these people? But they had sounded so convincing and lovely; they had offered Rory and the Doctor a tour of their government complex, while Amy was prompted to go with the daughters of the High Official into the Grand Bazaar for some alien shopping. She had been so enthusiastic, both of them had, fascinated by the cosmopolitan civilisation, a mixture of races, including humans; a glimpse of their race's future. The Doctor had even visited the planet before during his considerably long life, albeit a couple of centuries earlier in its timeline. He had said it was a grand, bustling utopia of the 62nd century.
In hindsight, Rory should probably have been suspicious from just that claim.
Now, without any indication as to why, Amy was about to be burned alive. The Doctor turned to an alien woman next to them, "What's going on?"
The woman looked him over with a brief shrug, "Demon woman." And she spat on the ground.
The Doctor turned back to Rory, "Wonderful – they seem to have developed superstitions since I was last here. Typical. And of course, we then gave them Amy. Not my best move..."
Rory cut over the Doctor's waterfall of words, "Do you have a plan?" He needed to know, because he already had an insanely bad plan of his own weaving its way in the depths of his mind.
The Doctor looked at him in a brief moment of sober clarity, his eyes determined, before he let that manic grin of his stretch across his face, "It's Amy! Of course I have a plan!" And then, at Rory's silent plead, the Doctor's mask fell away once more, and with a serious calm lacing his ancient voice, he held Rory's gaze, "I'll save her, don't worry Rory. You just need to trust me, okay? Do you trust me?"
An odd sense of calm settled over Rory with the Doctor's words, so different from his feelings of twisting unease from when he had first started travelling with the Doctor. A couple of millennia as waiting plastic did wonders for a person's perspective; of what mattered, of who to count on, and how to act. He smiled softly at the Doctor, an expression completely juxtaposed against their current predicament, and the baying of the crowds, "I do trust you. I completely trust that you get us out of this, just like you always do."
His words were so unexpectedly lilting for Rory to have been the one to say them, that it gave the Doctor a split second's pause. And that was enough to dull his reflexes, so that when in that instant his second human companion darted away and pushed through the remains of the pressed crowd, the Doctor could only watch as Rory violently punched out an overzealous spectator at the base of the platform and vaulted up to join Amy. The Doctor really needed to stop underestimating Rory's rather extensive experience; his sneakiness and general pigheadedness had definitely not been tempered by his time as a plastic Roman, "Rory! You idiot human!" The Doctor shook his head in askance and worry, but couldn't let himself pause now.
This was the problem with travelling with two companions – there was always double the potential for trouble and mortal danger.
Amy heart lurched when she saw her husband, "Rory!" A couple of men made a grab for him, but he managed to knock one away and get height on them by jumping up onto the platform with her. He was breathing hard, and she watched as he backed up, looking as unsettled as her when the crowd fell hushed and the men fell back slightly, glaring, but making no move to get him down.
Rory turned to her, his fingers finding her bound hands to lace into his own, "Are you okay?"
Amy's first desire of a retort was something along the lines of not asking stupid questions, and why didn't you bring a knife, but the quashed spark of fear in his eyes had her biting her tongue. She had become so unused to seeing that look in his eyes, and didn't like to see it again. Instead, she nodded jerkily, "You have a plan, right?"
"Don't think your presence will stop us burning the demon, boy!" One of the men in the front jeered, a sick grin on his face – at least, as much a of grin as can be gained from having a vertical mouth.
"The Doctor has a plan." Rory muttered in return, somehow injecting confidence into his tone.
"Oh, wonderful." Amy replied wryly, some of her old sarcasm returning with Rory's presence. "He going to hurry that up any?"
"I really hope so..." Rory's eyes had fixed on one of the men further from the platform, a man with something that looked horribly like an unlit torch.
Amy flinched as bright flames suddenly licked their way into oil, cloth and wood, a sparking fire that kindling the crowd's cheers once more. Rory moved closer to her, hand tightening on hers as he held her around her waist with his other arm, pressing his body to her, "Rory, please go. Please, Rory!"
Rory swallowed, "No. I'm not leaving you."
Amy whipped her head round violently to lock her furious eyes onto his own, this time unable to prevent her tears from sliding gracefully down her cheeks, "Listen to me, you useless waste of space – you are my husband, and I am telling you to get your sorry self out of here!"
Rory smiled sadly, trying to ignore the multiplying of flames near the base of the platform as more torches were lit and the crowds grew louder, "It doesn't work like that."
Amy's breath caught, and despite her utter faith in the Doctor, she couldn't help but let the world slip, and suddenly she could only see Rory – Rory and the fire. Quietly, she hissed back, "Yes it does!"
And there was Rory's smile again, the one he had borne since waiting, the one that had seen impossible things, the one that loved her all the more, and embodied more than she could ever hope to feel, "Not this time."
"Last chance, boy."
Rory glared down at the man, yelling, "She hasn't done anything!"
"She's a demon!" A faceless call.
"She's my wife, and you are a pack of ignorant murderers! You are the demons!"
Mutters and curses ran through the packed crowd, and the men's faces darkened, "He is as tainted as her!"
"Oh for the love of..." Amy rolled her eyes, spitting back, "Get over yourselves!"
"Burn them!" The cry went up, and Rory knew that was it.
"If he doesn't hurry up, I'm going to cut up his bowtie." Amy gritted out through clenched teeth. There was no need to ask who she was talking about.
Rory swallowed, "Talk about cutting it fine."
The dry kindling sparked, and it might have been his imagination, but Rory could swear he felt the soles of his shoes getting warmer already. He tightened his arms around Amy. She took a shuddering breath, somehow keeping her composure as reality began to set in, "Please, Rory..."
"I'm not going anywhere. I made you a promise."
Amy shot him a look, "I think this definitely qualifies in the 'till death' part of our vows. You can still run." Her last few words were slightly choked as smoke began to curl and blaze up from the base.
Rory shrugged, "I'm not waiting a second time."
Amy shook her head, "I hate you."
Rory grinned, coughing, before he rested his forehead in to her flame-red hair, "I love you too."
And then Amy was pressing back into him and the post that kept her there, and Rory could only tighten his hold on her, as his eyes watered and they both found their breath stolen, "Rory!"
"I'm here."
"Oh God..." Amy couldn't process that this was actually happening, after all they had done, all they had been through, all over something so trivial. And where was the Doctor? He would come, he always came, in the end. She had to believe that this would be no different.
The heat seared her face, long before the flames even licked at the base of the platform, and she was sure she heard shouting, but she couldn't watch their joyously malicious faces anymore, and so she closed her eyes, and focused on the pressure of her husband at her side, all the while, never quite believing that this was really it. With the Doctor, it was never the end, not until the darkness finally fell.
But then she took one more smoke-choked breath, and it did.
Rory felt Amy slump next to him, and he tried to blink against the smoke, using his sleeve to try and stop himself from breathing in as much smoke. His instincts told him to run – fire, heat, blue and grey.
Wait...blue?
He tried to listen beyond the strengthening blaze, and blinked away the stars that danced from lack of oxygen. His lungs burned, and he could have been hallucinating the changes in crowd noises, and a particular voice that seem to rise above the cacophony, but he knew he was close to passing out, and if they shot him, then, well, at least he tried.
Last chance. He could only hope that his poor excuse of an idea matched up with the Doctor's plan.
Shying away from the fires' intense air-bending heat, Rory made light work of the knots that bound Amy with the knife he had lifted off the man he punched earlier, having hidden it up his sleeve. His sluggish reflexes only just caught her before she slumped to the burning platform.
Furiously, Rory reflected that he was becoming really sick of having to rescue Amy from fires, but at least this time he wasn't in danger of melting – no, just becoming a charred lump of flesh. He staggered against smoke-induced vertigo, trying to find a way out of the fire and away from the platform, all too aware of his wife's vulnerable dead weight in his arms. And then her weight was lessened slightly, and the Doctor was suddenly there. Rory realised that the Doctor not only had a firm hold of Amy, but was also shaking Rory's shoulder, clearly trying to breathe past the smoke, "Rory! Stay awake! Help me get her just a little bit further!"
Rory may have helped. He may have helped get them past the flames, away from the heat, away from the smoke and into cleaner air and a chaos of confused people. He may have even been conscious as the Doctor forcibly got them into the TARDIS, but he really wouldn't know, as by that point, his body had just fallen into autopilot, trusting the Doctor to guide them right.
Dark most definitely fell, probably as soon as he heard the wooden doors creak close. He didn't even remember hitting the grated floor, nor did he remember the Doctor catching him.
Amy stirred to the comforting hum she was now so used to, their living home soothingly making her presence known. She smiled softly, eyes still closed, as she felt Rory's body pressed behind her, his arms having wrapped around her while they slept. But then a slight frown graced her forehead, and she noticed how raw her breath felt. Groggily, she opened her eyes, remembered heat and fire and smoke flooding into her, tempered only by the utter relief that she felt, safe where she was in the TARDIS, not only with her sleeping husband, but also with her sleeping Timelord, the picture of whom did not fail to bring a quirky grin to her lips, washing away the terror she had felt. He was asleep in a chair next to their bed, head lolling comically at an odd angle, his bowtie askew and his hair even more of a bird's nest that it normally was. His light occasional snores added to the harmony of the ship's hum, and Amy almost surprised herself by letting a giggle escape. No doubt it was part hysteria, but right now, she didn't care.
They were alive. They were safe.
Gently, she twisted so that she could look at Rory. He smelt of smoke, and it was impossible at that moment to tell that his hair was blond, but his face was cleaned up, and more importantly, his expression was relaxed.
As often happened when she woke before him, Rory seemed to know he was being watched, and it wasn't long before his eyes opened to meet her own, "Hey." He winced as his voice tried to rasp out the word.
"Hey." She grinned wonkily despite the raw pain the reply had caused her – she had sounded worse that he had!
"Hey yourselves. Took you both long enough to wake up!" The Doctor had clearly awoken in those moments, and Amy found herself twisting back around, "I cleaned you up as best I could, and the TARDIS' filtered her air to deal with your smoke inhalation, but I couldn't fix the damage until you woke up. Drink!" He brandished two metal cups at them, both of which gave off a rather ominous layer of white smoke.
Nevertheless, they both obediently drank, twitching a little at the strange tingling sensation that wound down their throats and wrapped around their lungs, "Urgh! That was disgusting!" Amy shuddered.
"Feels better though?"
"Oh, don't look so pleased with yourself." Amy snorted, before suddenly seeing Rory's right hand as he placed his empty cup back, "What happened to you?"
Rory blinked, noticing the white bandage that wound around his palm and wrist for the first time, "I have no idea."
"We really need to discuss this failing of yours at knowing when you're injured." Amy stated flatly.
"Just a minor burn, Rory, don't worry. You accidently grabbed one of the metal stakes holding the platform together during our escape. I sorted it out – should be healed in a few hours. Perfect respite before the next planet, yes? Wonderful!"
"Wait a minute. You haven't told us how we escaped! I was unconscious for it – I need a retelling." Amy stated firmly.
Typically, the Doctor just grinned, "Superstitions are a wonderful thing."
Rory raised an eyebrow in amusement at the Doctor's avoidance, while Amy snorted, "Not when it means people try to burn you for only having one man when you're over twenty."
Rory spluttered, "What? That's why you were a demon?"
"They thought I was married to both of you. When I told them in no uncertain terms that I'd only ever have one husband, that decided that I was a demon conspiring to give males bad ideas and corrupt their social order. A little extreme, but I have been accused of the former before, I suppose." She grinned wickedly, and Rory slapped her lightly on the arm in response to that last comment.
"Oops." The Doctor winced.
Rory narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean Oops?"
"Well how was I to know that inventing marriage on that planet would do that? It's a very complicated concept, you know, when you have more than one species coexisting, and I might have forgotten to leave behind a few key pointers... but in my defence they really threw good parties back then!" Rory didn't know whether to laugh or throw a cup at the Doctor, while Amy just fixed him with a rather unsettling glare, "What? I'm sorry!"
"I would keep an eye on your wardrobe if I were you." Rory advised.
The Doctor shook his head, "No gratitude. " He followed this statement up with a salute, before strolling out into the depths of the TARDIS.
"It doesn't count when you caused the problem in the first place!" Amy yelled after him, determined to get the last word. She shook her head wryly, before twisting back to face Rory, smiling.
He mirrored the smile, "You okay?"
In her own form of reply, Amy simply pulled him deeply into a kiss, letting it melt away the fear she had felt, and the fading memories, if only for a time. When they finally parted, Amy held her husband's gaze, "You shouldn't have done what you did – it was beyond a bad idea."
"Travelling with the Doctor does that to a person I suppose." Rory grinned.
"I'm serious!"
"So am I. And I'd do it again. You should know by now that I will always be there when you wake up. I made a promise."
"To wait, I know, and to marry me." Amy sighed long-sufferingly, despite the secretly warming feeling she felt.
Rory grinned, leaning forward to kiss her lightly on the nose, "To never leave you, even if I know it took you over a decade to believe me."
Amy cocked her head slightly, a soft smile gracing her lips as she recalled a steadfast, quick-drawn promise from a seven year old boy to a seven year old girl, just because he hated to see her cry. "Does this mean I won't be allowed on any solo excursions for a while?"
"You have to admit that you going off by yourself does tend to almost get us both killed."
"Which is why we have the Doctor!"
Rory laughed, "We'll talk about this later."
"Oh will we?" Amy raised her eyebrow suggestively.
Rory shut her comeback up with a kiss.
FIN
Author Notes: I would love to know what you all thought of this! Thanks for reading!