A rewrite of an earlier story of mine with a much different take. This story takes place early in the relationship between the Doctor and Amy, sometime after the Beast Below but before Rory joins them. Hope you enjoy it!
.
.
His voice is unusually serious, his eyes intent.
"Pond, this is serious," he says. "This is not, repeat, not one of those times when you agree not to follow me and then immediately do so."
Amy smirks and immediately wipes it from her face, attempts a serious expression. He is not impressed.
"Really," he continues, getting marginally louder. "This planet is insanely dangerous, even for me. I just have to run off, nip something off a museum shelf while no one is… well, anyway, it won't take long and I'll be right back, but if you leave the TARDIS or set one foot on the surface of this planet, things will get extremely complicated. Humans are hunted here. They have… complex defenses."
"Ok, boss," Amy assures him, her tone light. "Gotcha. Don't set a toe outside the door."
"Amy." he says slowly and clearly. Something in his tone wipes the last trace of a smile from her face. He is serious, she realizes. "Promise me. You have to promise."
She pushes down the temptation to vamp or flirt or make fun. "I promise," she says solemnly, looking him right in the eye. "I won't go anywhere."
His eyes search hers for a moment and are apparently satisfied. "Good girl," he says, cracking a grin, and he is off at a loping run, leaving her fuming just a little at his parting tone. She looks around the TARDIS, trying to decide which room to rummage through. While the doctor is away, the mouse will play. She decides to begin in the study at the back of the library.
About forty minutes later, Amy is nose deep in a very interesting box of photos she has unearthed when the monitors begin to clamor and a large pink light begins to blink out in the corridors. She takes a moment to carefully reassemble the lid and place the box back where she found it – no use letting him know where she's been snooping, he'll just ferret it all away somewhere else and she'll be back at ground zero – before running out to the main control room. She flips a few levers she knows to be harmless, just to feel like she's doing something, and then glances up at the central monitor. Which is when things begin to get very strange indeed.
.
.
.
The Doctor tucks the artifact into one of the many inner pockets of his tweed jacket and spins lightly on the balls of his feet – straight into the waiting eye of a rather nasty looking gun, held in the claw of an even nastier-looking alien.
"Greetings, Doctor," it snarls, its tone guttural and strangely gleeful. "We have come to escort you to a meeting."
"Ah, well, thank you much for thinking of me, but I've no intention of going anywhere with you lot," the Doctor says, slowly sliding the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and readying it for stun.
"Wrong, Doctor," the alien replies. "I think you will." He holds out a small handheld device. There, centered nicely in the video screen, is Amy.
Amy Pond.
Who is most emphatically not in the TARDIS, and is, in fact, in the company of several alien soldiers. And appears to be tied to something. And looking rather frightened.
The doctor pushes down a groan and works unusually hard to keep his default, unperturbed face on display, while a slow, quiet burn begins inside.
"Fine," he says, holding out his wrists in surrender. "Let's go."
