Rory Williams was sitting at the kitchen table in the Smith Manor eating breakfast while Tabitha Greene, Master Smith's cook, set about making breakfast for the master and his lady. The orange light of the rising sun cut through the dimness of the large room, making the shadows retreat and turning the colour soft and warm.
"I dreamed of her again last night," Rory told the short, grey-haired, motherly woman.
"Rory, darling, I do wish everything were easier," Tabitha said compassionately, her back to Rory as she drizzled thick gravy onto fresh, warm, biscuits.
"You do not wish I could be with her?" Rory asked of her.
"Oh, Rory, of course I wish you could be happy," Tabitha said, turning to Rory and wiping her fingers on a hand towel. "But you know as well as I do that it is complicated. After all, se is the master's lady and while I despise seeing you poignant, I would also have great abhorrence for any thought of the master alone."
"But he can find another lady," Rory insisted, returning to an old argument of theirs.
"And you cannot?" Tabitha asked, turning back around and pouring two glasses of milk.
"You know I cannot," Rory said, his chin in his hands. "My feelings for her burn brighter than the very sun whose glorious rays illuminate her angelic beauty each and every day."
"Why, Rory, dear, there is a bit of the poet in you," Tabitha said, turning around again and coming to sit beside the confused and lonely young man.
"I know you are lonely," she said, putting her hand o Rory's and gently squeezing it. "But I also know that you will find someone who will love you with all their heart and soul."
Rory gave a scoff, not willing to believe that anyone would love him that way.
"You will," Tabitha insisted quietly, catching Rory's eye and smiling at him.
Rory smiled back, unable to resist Tabitha's positive influence.
Suddenly, they heard footsteps above them and then on the steps and the master's lady, Miss Amelia Pond, appeared from around the corner.
Amelia was the most beautiful, most glorious creature that Rory had ever seen in his life. Her long, wavy auburn hair perfectly framed her flawless, alabaster face and her smooth, fair skin seemed to glow from within. The early light coming through the window struck Amelia just so, transforming her cocoa brown eyes into heavenly, glittering jewels of perfection. Her long, lean body had the glorious shape and graceful curves of a masterpiece sculpture. She was clad miraculously in a simple light brown sundress and a thin tan wrap. She never noticed Rory, but when she did—when she spoke to him or looked at him—he felt the divine reverence of a devout man finally meeting his lord. Whenever her skin accidentally brushed against his, a little lightening bolt of heat shot through his body and all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and never let her go. Not to protect her—she could and would take care of herself—but just to be with her.
But, alas, 'twas not meant to be. Amelia was in love with the master, set to be wed, planning on children, and there was no chance of Amelia ever taking any more than a passing notice of a lowly servant boy.
"Good morning, my lady," Tabitha said cheerfully, putting Miss Amelia's breakfast on the table while Rory went to clean his dishes.
"Good morning, Tabitha," Miss Amelia replied happily as she sat down, her magical, musical voice sending shivers through Rory's body and making his heart melt.
"And how are you today, Miss?" Tabitha asked, wiping up her cooking area.
"Quite well, thank you," Miss Amelia replied, cutting up her biscuit and dipping it in the gravy. "And you?"
"Lovely, thank you. And the master?" Tabitha inquired, turning to face Miss Amelia as Rory began wiping the wooden floors. "Is he feeling well?"
"Indeed, he is," Miss Amelia said, taking a drink of milk. "He is still resting."
"Oh, eventful night?" Tabitha questioned, raising a thin eyebrow at the young woman.
"Tabitha," Miss Amelia said, surprised, a gentle smile alighting her face and a slight, rosy blush rising in her cheeks.
"I was merely asking," Tabitha replied, smiling mischievously while she turned back to her work.
"Well, you know we are planning on children," Miss Amelia said, turning back to her breakfast. "Well, I am anyway."
"Does the master not want children?" Tabitha asked, turning to Miss Amelia again. Rory had slowed in his sweeping, wanting to hear the rest of the women's conversation.
"He does," Miss Amelia stated. "He loves children, but every time I try to… be intimate with him, he just acts uncomfortable, like he does not realise what it takes to create a child."
"I am sure he knows," Tabitha said with certainty, taking a seat at the table while Rory began to clean out the wood stove. "I am sure he just want to take things slow with you two."
"But we have bee taking things slow for a year now," Miss Amelia lamented.
"Well, maybe he just wants to make sure that you are ready for children," Tabitha said soothingly, taking Miss Amelia's hands. "Why, you are not even married yet. What would people think if you were to have a child without even being a married woman?"
"I know, but every time I bring that up, he changes the subject," Miss Amelia said sadly. "Sometimes it seems as if he is a child himself."
"Well, he is quite energetic, shall we say?" Tabitha said, not wanting to upset her soon-to-be mistress.
"He is that," Miss Amelia agreed. "But I wish he would stop being a boy and just be a man."
"Well, he is probably just waiting until you are married," Tabitha reassured.
"Then why does he persist in postponing our marriage?" Miss Amelia asked curiously.
"Have you asked him about it?"
"Yes, but all he says is that it is not time yet. I ask him when the time is and he says that we will know it when it comes. What does that even mean?"
"Perhaps it means that the master's parents taught him that there is a certain time for everyone," Tabitha speculated. "Similarly to how everyone has a time when they must leave this earthy, perhaps everyone has a time when they are meant to marry the one they love."
"Perhaps," Miss Amelia said thoughtfully."
"Hello, there, sorry I'm late."
Miss Amelia, Tabitha, and Rory all jumped at the master's sudden appearance from around the corner. He looked impeccable yet unusual as always with his light brown coat, brown trousers, white shirt, and blue bowtie. His thick, wavy dark brown hair was swirling, cleanly styled and smooth looking. His deep yet playful green eyes conveyed a knowledge of the world and things in general far surpassing his years. Every lady in the village wished for John Smith to be her courtier, but he had eyes only for Miss Amelia. And while Rory had never seen Master Smith treat Miss Amelia as anything but a friend or a sibling, he could also see that the master cared about Miss Amelia and would always protect her. And besides, he seemed a better match for Miss Amelia than any other man in the village.
"I have breakfast all ready for you, master," Tabitha said, getting up from the table and putting the master's plate in her place.
"Wonderful," the master said, sitting down across from his lady while Rory and Tabitha continued to clean.
"So, do you have any plans for the day?" Miss Amelia asked Master Smith, drinking the last of her milk.
"Oh, just the usual," the master said, biting into his biscuit. "Checking on the people, seeing how they are doing, helping if they need help. You?"
"Oh, I do not know," Miss Amelia said as Tabitha took away her empty plate. "Some people have recommended that I take up knitting, so I may give that a go."
"Oh, you do not want to do that," the master said, looking at Miss Amelia.
"I do not?" Miss Amelia asked.
"Of course not," the master said, turning back to his breakfast. "You are far too good to waste your day with something tedious like knitting. You could come with me if you want."
"What?" Miss Amelia asked, astonished. "A woman do work with her courtier? Whatever would others think?"
"Oh, Amelia," the master said intently, placing his hands on hers. "You and I both know that you do not care what the others say. Besides, it is just pointless gossip."
"What is gossip?" Miss Amelia asked, confused.
The master opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again in confusion, as if he did not eve know the meaning of his words.
"I do not know," he finally said, his brow knitted together. "I cannot recall where I heard that word. Anyway," he said, jumping up and holding out his hand to Miss Amelia. "Come on, let us go have an adventure."
Miss Amelia happily took his hand and off they went into the village, laughing all the way like two small children.
"You cannot deny that he makes her happy," Tabitha said after a bit while Rory straightened up from the stove.
"I could make her happy," he said dejectedly, rinsing off his hands in the basin.
"I know you could, darling," the older woman said compassionately, stepping over to put a hand on the young man's shoulder.
They stood like that for a moment; Rory's head downcast, Tabitha's hand gently squeezing his shoulder.
"Maybe you should befriend some other girls," Tabitha finally said, moving away from Rory, the tender moment over. "That young lady who tends lambs for the Philips Manor seems quite nice."
"But she's not Miss Amelia," Rory said sadly, looking down at the floor.
"No, but Miss Amelia is unavailable," Tabitha replied plainly, going to scrub the windows. "And you do need someone, dearie."
"Why?" Rory inquired stubbornly. "Why must I court someone? If it is not Miss Amelia, then I do not care."
"But, Rory, you must have a lady," Tabitha replied, turning to Rory in astonishment. "If you do not, then how will you carry on your family line?"
"It does not matter," Rory insisted, sitting back down at the table. "If I do not have Miss Amelia, then I do not care about carrying on my family line."
"Oh, now you are just being foolish," Tabitha said irritably, turning back to the windows.
"Am I?" Rory's tone of certainty caused Tabitha to turn back around, sighing in exasperation. "Think about it, Tabitha. What would it be like if I courted someone I did not really love? How would that be fair for me to pretend that I love someone and ache for Miss Amelia at the same time?"
"You could learn to love someone else," Tabitha said, her voice matter-of-fact, but compassionate at the same time.
Rory just sighed, looking wistfully out the window.
"How about you venture out and gather some firewood?" Tabitha said after a bit. "The sunlight will do you some good."
Too wearied to argue, Rory sighed again and got up from the table, leaving Tabitha to her cleaning. He stepped out of the manor and though the sun was bright and shining, he still felt cold. He looked around the village at the little children running to and fro, the adults making their way around, carrying buckets of water or bundles of bread and meat. All that joy, and he was alone. None of them knew the pain and turmoil he was going through. The ever-present ache of loneliness that was constantly gnawing on his heart. Granted, he did have Tabitha, but she did not know how he felt, not really. She had never known the agonizing black hole of loneliness that brought tears to his eyes and made him feel like he was being mauled by a wild animal. Every time he set eyes on Miss Amelia, an ice-cold, poison-soaked blade was plunged into his heart, the black poison spreading through his veins and infecting every part of him with a dark, self-loathing sadness, causing him to question himself. Was it his eyes? His body? His voice? What was it that made John Smith so very much more desirable than him? He would do anything for Amelia Pond, anything, and there was no way John Smith was anywhere near that dedicated to her. He never even expressed any intimate interest in Amelia and even when he held her hand, it was with the easy familiarity of siblings. Rory could give dear Amelia what the master would not, possibly could not. The master was a friend, and Rory could be a lover.
"Rory? Rory, dear?" A familiar voice called him out of his reverie and he looked up to see twenty-three-year-old Lady Marian of the Thompson Manor. She was his height with flawless peach skin and twinkling golden eyes. Her long hair cascaded down her back like a glorious mahogany waterfall and she was clad in a simple white sundress with yellow flowers. Her eyes were slightly clouded with worry, her hands clutching her basket rather hard.
"Why, whatever is the matter, Miss Marian?" Rory asked, troubled by her worried state.
"It is Thomas Jr., Rory, he is ill," Miss Marian said, tearing up at the thought of her five-year-old boy being ill.
"What are his symptoms?" Rory asked, immediately falling into the clever, compassionate doctor that everyone in the village knew him to be.
"Well, he's bee coughing for a few days," Miss Maria explained trustingly. "But I thought noting of it. But early this morning, before the rise of the sun, he began coughing up bile. He became quite hot and even when Thomas suggested we soak our boy in the cold of the morning, he would not cool off. He has begun throwing up and is constantly shaking and sweating and we believe him to be curse. Oh, please help us, Rory."
"Take me to him," Rory said with a forced calm, his voice professional.
Miss Marian took his hand and quickly led him to the other side of the village, to the large white stone house with a brown wood roof and window coverings. The manor was situated o the top of a gentle hill, the bright sunlight gracing its shape and framing it like a golden halo cast down by the angels.
Miss Marian frantically pulled Rory up the hill, into the manor, through the hallway, and into the room of her son.
The bedroom was long and wide, normally the ideal sanctuary for a young, rambunctious boy, but not today. Today the toys went unnoticed, the pencils shunned, the curtains drawn. Young Thomas II was lying prone in his bed, eyes closed, frail body trembling, perspiration shining on his forehead and dotting his upper lip. His father was perched on the edge of his son's bed, touching a damp cloth to the boy's head and face.
"Thomas," Miss Marian said quietly, entering the dim, warm room, and walking up to her husband, one hand going to his shoulder. "I got the doctor."
Mister Thomas turned away from his ill child to look into Rory's eyes. Rory almost gasped aloud at the look of abject terror in the strong man's blue eyes. This man, who was normally the epitome of strength, was reduced to a quivering heap at the sight of his only child wasting away.
"This is not Mister Smith," Mister Thomas said, knowing that however good Rory was as a healer, his master would always be better.
"I could not find Mister Smith," Miss Marian said, her hand still on Mister Thomas' shoulder while she looked worriedly at her boy. "Rory is just as good."
"You know damn well he is not," Mister Thomas spat, standing up and glaring at his wife. "Smith is the best doctor for miles around and you settle for an inferior doctor just because you could not find him?" Mister Thomas was struggling to keep his voice quiet so as not to wake the young boy lying prone in his bed.
"Rory is a good doctor," Miss Marian said, her voice hard and commanding.
"I can help," Rory piped up, hoping to diffuse the tension. "I just wish to help."
Mister Thomas' anger vanished and he sighed deeply, carefully sinking back onto his son's bed.
"Okay," he said quietly, his eyes on Thomas II. "Just please…please help my boy."
"I promise I will," Rory said. He walked slowly over to the boy and knelt down beside him, feeling his feverish and damp face and forehead.
"You said he has been like this for a few days?" Rory asked professionally.
"Yes," Miss Marian replied.
"And coughing up bile since this morning?"
"Yes."
"Has he had any other symptoms?"
"While my lady was out, Thomas suffered from severe dysentery," Lord Thomas said, stroking his son's soaking hair.
"It is consumption, is it not?" Miss Marian asked, terror in her voice, her hands wringing together in a furious manner. "Our boy has consumption. Oh, lord!"
"Miss Marian," Rory said, his voice calm and collected. "Your son does not have consumption."
"Then what does he have, pray tell?" Miss Marian pleaded, tears in her eyes. "What is wrong with my boy?"
"It is cholera," Rory told her, planning out how he was going to heal the boy.
"Cholera?" Miss Marian asked in a rather quiet and panicked tone of voice, her face turning a ghostly shade of white.
"Can you save him?" Lord Thomas asked, one hand on his son's arm, the other on his lady's.
"I promise I will," Rory said again. He informed them of the supplies he would need and the two terrified parents scurried off to retrieve the items.
Alone with the boy, Rory gazed at the youthful face stripped of all its innocence by illness and felt a pang of pity for the poor fellow. Granted, not many children in this day and age succeeded in retaining their innocence for long, but as the child of a wealthy lord, Thomas II was meant to be one of the select few to lead a happy live of peace since he would never be required to do any real work. The same would be true for Miss Amelia's child if she should ever succeed in creating one like she wanted.
Rory's heart contracted painfully at the thought of Miss Amelia creating a child with the master instead of him. He knew it would never happen, but that knowledge did not stop him from wishing that it were true, that Miss Amelia would realise that he loved her more than the master ever could. That he would wait for her forever, for thousands of years if he had to.
He was brought out of his thoughts by Miss Marian and Lord Thomas coming back into the room, arms laden with supplies. Rory quickly set about concocting a serum to help the boy. When he was done, he and the two parents guided the boy into a sitting position and Rory carefully poured the serum down the boy's throat, causing the boy to cough and gag a bit.
"There," Rory said softly after all the serum had gone down the boy's throat, lowering Thomas II back down onto his bed. "He should begin to recover when the sun is highest inn the sky."
"Oh, Rory, will you stay here?" Miss Marian pleaded, reaching out to grasp Rory's hand. "In case something goes awry and Thomas gets worse?"
"Of course I will," Rory said reassuringly. "Though I am not certain of how my master would feel about that."
"I shall send one of our servants to alert him," Lord Thomas said. "Smith is quite understanding when it comes to matters involving children."
"He is, indeed," Rory allowed, his eyes on Thomas II, voice distracted, his mind drifting yet again to Miss Amelia and he wondered if she would even notice his absence.
Tabitha was in the kitchen fixing lunch for the master and Miss Amelia when they burst through the front door and into the kitchen, winded and a bit ruffled, but otherwise fine.
"And what have you two been up to?" Tabitha asked the couple, smiling at the sight of their joined hands.
"Oh, not much," the master answered, taking a seat at the table with Miss Amelia. "Just some exploring."
"John seems to know everything there is to know about plants and animals and history," Miss Amelia said, her face and eyes lit up with joy and admiration and excitement. "He was able to inform me of the complete history and workings of the squirrel. I simply do not know how he does it."
"If you do not mind me asking, master, wherever did you learn about the workings of a squirrel?"
The master opened is mouth to answer, but closed it again, confusion crinkling his brow.
"I cannot seem to recall," he said curiously.
"Perhaps it was your father who taught you?" Miss Amelia suggested as Tabitha set the couple's lunch in front of them.
"Thank you, Tabitha," the master said distractedly, his eyes focused on something far away.
"Oh, Rory is off at Lord Thomas' manor, tending to the young Master Thomas," Tabitha informed them, putting on some tea for the two.
"The boy is sick?" Miss Amelia asked, concern darkening her eyes and carving lines into the fair skin of her forehead.
"I am sure it is nothing serious," Tabitha consoled. "Lady Marian merely came around and requested that Rory examined the young boy and try to help him."
"Why did she not send for me?" the master asked curiously.
"Perhaps because you were off gallivanting with your future bride," Tabitha said cheekily, her back to the two, a small smile on her face as she set the kettle on the stove.
"Gallivanting? Bosh," the master scoffed after swallowing a bite of his sandwich. "We were exploring and I was educating my dear Amelia."
"Do you know what ails the boy?" Miss Amelia asked, spooning up some fresh fruit.
"I am afraid that I am ignorant regarding the matter of the poor child," Tabitha answered regretfully, turning to face the lord and lady.
"Perhaps I should go and assist in tending to the child," the master thought aloud.
"With respect, my lord, I believe Rory to be fully capable and in need of handling the tending of an ailment," Tabitha said. "He really has not had much experience and perhaps it is time he gained some measure of experience."
"Are you certain he is capable enough?" the master asked Tabitha, wanting her input before making a judgement.
"Quite certain, my lord," Tabitha said, her voice steady, her eyes locked on her master's.
"If Tabitha has such confidence in Rory, then I must say that I do too," Miss Amelia said, looking at the master.
They maintained eye contact for a moment more before the master blinked and turned back to his lunch.
"All right, then," he murmured in acceptance.
Later that day, after the sun has gone down, Rory walked back across the village, having successfully healed young Thomas II. He stopped for a moment and gazed up at the moon, fully raised in an infinite sky black as pitch. He swept his eyes over the countless stars, wondering what it would be like to travel among those stars. Curiously, he felt a strange familiarity for space and the stars. He did not know what could possibly cause it; he just knew it was there. He pondered over the strange feeling for a bit before marking it of as exhaustion and continuing on home.
When he entered the manor, he heard a fire crackling in the front room. He knew that Tabitha would be abed by this hour and the master and Miss Amelia were usually abed, so he curiously and cautiously made his way into the room. He saw a silhouette sitting in the armchair and hesitated for a moment before taking a seat in the wooden rocking chair adjacent to the armchair and fixing his eyes on the morose face of his love.
"Miss Amelia," he said softly, concern in his voice. "You should be asleep. Are you feeling well?"
"I am all right," she said, her angelic face half cloaked in shadow, her strong voice unintentionally expressing sadness.
"Are you quite certain about that?" Rory asked, his own voice betraying his knowledge of her feelings.
She stayed silent for a moment, her eyes on the flames locking the air, before sighing deeply and turning to Rory.
"Tabitha told me and John about little Thomas II," she said, compassion and tenderness in her melodic voice. "Is he all right?"
"He is perfectly fine," Rory answered with confident certainty. "He had a simple bout of cholera, but I was able to fix him right up."
Miss Amelia sighed again, this time in relief. "I am glad. I was so worried."
"As were his parents… But really, Miss Amelia, it is quite late. Are you not tired?"
"I am," replied Miss Amelia. "But John at times gets into these states where he is up all night working on some elaborate project and as much as he tries to be quiet, I ca never get any sleep."
"Can you not ask him to go elsewhere?" Rory asked, his heart becoming heavy at the thought of his secret love not getting any sleep.
"I try, but he is so immersed in his projects that he seems not to perceive me."
"You may rest in my quarters if you wish," Rory said before he could consider his words.
"Your quarters?" Miss Amelia asked, not disgusted at the notion of sleeping in a servant's bed, merely surprised that he would offer.
"Well, I mean, if you cannot get any sleep in your own quarters, the perhaps you would like somewhere else comfortable to sleep. That is, unless you feel uncomfortable at the thought of using a servant's quarters for the night."
"Oh, I would not mind that one bit," Miss Amelia rushed to say. "I would very much appreciate that indeed."
"You would?" Rory asked in disbelief.
"Of course I would," Miss Amelia said, her voice kind and happy. "But where on earth will you sleep?"
"I could sleep here," Rory said reassuringly, gesturing with one hand around the room blanketed in shadows, flickering from the flames gracefully stretching and dancing in the flue.
"In the sitting room?" Miss Amelia questioned, standing and looking down at her servant.
"Why not? I have had worse nights," Rory said casually.
"It does not seem very comfortable," Miss Amelia said, her arms crossed over her chest, a playful note in her voice.
"Oh, it will do," Rory said.
"Bosh," Miss Amelia said, smiling at him in the dark. "Everyone should be allowed to sleep in a bed. And I cannot sleep unless I have someone beside me."
"But… What about Master Smith?" Rory asked nervously.
"John would understand. And besides, it is not like we will be making faces," Miss Amelia said, chuckling.
"But, I am your servant," Rory insisted, not wanting his love to have to face the consequences of such an action.
Miss Amelia just shrugged. "It does not matter to me. The way I see it, you are in no way my inferior."
"Really?" Rory asked, stunned.
"Of course, Rory," Miss Amelia said, holding out her hand to Rory.
He sat for a moment before slowly beginning to reach out for his mistress' hand.
"Oh, Amelia," the voice of Rory's master said from the stairs. Rory quickly pulled back his hand and looked away.
"Yes, John?" Miss Amelia asked, lowering her hand and looking to her husband-to-be.
"If you would like to come to bed, I have finished working on my project for now," the master said, his voice free of lust, not sounding like a man who wanted to be his lady.
"I shall be right up," Miss Amelia replied, looking back to Rory as Master Smith went back up the steps.
"Think whatever you wish about me," Miss Amelia said softly to Rory. "But I do believe I would have enjoyed sharing a bed with you."
With that, Miss Amelia turned and followed her courtier up the stairs, leaving Rory to gaze into the dying flames and contemplate her words.
He sat there, thinking, until the first grey light of the morning graced the window, banishing the shadows to the nether realm in which they resided. Rory felt that he required more alone time to sort things out, so he got up and left the manor, deciding to take a walk. He had been walking for a while through the woods before he saw something strange. It appeared to be a tall, blue, rectangular structure. It had two doors in the side facing Rory and white, four-paned windows on each side. The words 'Police Box' were painted above the windows and in between those two words, were the words 'Public Call Box' in smaller print, one word on top of the other. There was something that looked like a lantern on top and Rory cocked his head, wondering what it could be. Rory walked around it, his brow creased in curiosity, each side nearly identical to the front side, only without the doors. He looked around to see if anyone was around to claim the strange box, but there was no one. Curiosity getting the best of him, Rory went up to the door and slowly pushed it open, gasping in wonder at the sight before him.
The stupefying large hexagonal room was lighted with strange devices o the high, high vaulted ceiling and the walls, which slightly resembled stone, but also slightly wood and something Rory could not distinguish. There were slightly curving columns of some seemingly organic material and a thin silver platform going around a giant column surrounded by some thick contraption with all manner of buttons and switches and levers. There was a silver staircase with a railing to Rory's left that led up to a balcony stretching around part of the wall. He could see hallways in some parts of the room, stretching to unknown locations. The column in the middle of the room was clear, but the inside was a light, glowing green, which mesmerized Rory and rooted him were he stood.
"It's called a TARDIS," a high voice said from Rory's right. Rory turned to see Thomas II standing three feet away.
Miss Amelia gaily jumped down the stairs and danced into the kitchen where Tabitha was fixing the breakfast.
"My lady, you appear to be in quite a lovely state this fine morn," Tabitha said, smiling at her mistress.
"I am, dear Tabitha, I certainly am," Miss Amelia exalted.
"And what, pray tell, is the cause of this first-rate state that you so deservingly find yourself in?"
Miss Amelia sat down at the table and gestured for Tabitha to join her, the young woman's expression and air that of a bubbly child.
"It is John," Miss Amelia said quietly, conspiratorially. "Last night I went to bed and we had a conversation of our emotions and thoughts. I asked him if he thought of me as a wife or a sister, and he confessed his true and deep love for me…"
"Aww," Tabitha said enthusiastically. "What happened next?"
Miss Amelia paused for dramatic effect before practically squealing, "We finally did some basket-weaving."
"Oh, heavenly days," Tabitha exclaimed in joy, taking Miss Amelia's hands. "How was it?"
"It was the most glorious experience of my life," Miss Amelia said, glowing. "I have truly never experienced anything like it in my life."
"Oh, I am so happy for you, child," Tabitha said, patting her mistress' hand.
Miss Amelia's demeanour suddenly changed; she looked down and gently bit her bottom lip, all the joyous light gone from her eyes.
"Why, what is troubling you, my lady?" Tabitha asked worriedly.
"It is just… The night before, John was working on a project and I could not get any sleep, so I went to the sitting room and was there for a while before Rory came in. We talked for a bit before he offered his quarters for my use and said that he could rest on the armchair. I then stood and requested that he join me, informing him that I have difficulty sleeping unless I have someone beside me."
"But, my lady, that is not true," Tabitha said, confused.
"I know," Miss Amelia said, her own voice filled with confusion. "I just…I know he is only a servant, but I wanted so badly to lay beside him. I am completely at sea regarding the subject of Rory, but what I do know is that last night when we were speaking, it felt as if we had known each other for years and had developed a special connection. I do not know quite how to describe it, but with Rory everything just feels so right."
"So which will you choose?" Tabitha asked. "Master Smith or Rory?"
Miss Amelia thought for a bit before replying, her voice slow and firm. "John. It will always be John."
Thomas was still clad in his white pyjamas with blue stripes, his small arms folded behind his back. He appeared to be completely healed, his face and body completely cleared of perspiration, his breathing steady, but Rory could tell he was changed. While he looked the same, the boy gave off not a feeling of precious innocence and the childlike wonder that Rory would have expected from a child in this strange place. Rather, he gave off a feeling of knowing confidence and familiarity, as if nothing he could see in the world would surprise him, for he had seen it all. The boy's knowledge of this strange, unfamiliar place only heightened Rory's discomfort.
"It's a what?" he asked young Thomas II.
"A TARDIS," the child repeated calmly, looking around the strange contraption. "It stands for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space."
"But what on earth does that mean?"
"This is a ship," the boy said, stepping in front of Rory and spreading his arms. "This ship travels through time and space."
Rory just looked uncomprehendingly at the child, unable to process what he was hearing.
"What…I…I do not…" Rory stammered.
"Okay," young Thomas said irritably. "I can see this is going to take awhile and I really don't have the time, so…" The boy started towards Rory.
"Wait, what are you—?" Rory started before Thomas leaped up effortlessly, wrapped his legs around Rory's waist, and pressed his fingers to the man's temples. Rory gasped aloud as memories exploded in his mind. The Doctor, his family, aliens, Amy; they and more all vied for dominance in the relatively small confines of Rory's mind.
"John?" Amelia asked, going onto the porch behind the manor. John was sitting in the wooden rocking bench, gazing out at the mild morning.
"Oh, hello, Amelia," John said, smiling as he looked at her. He moved to the side of the bench opposite Amelia and patted the seat next to him. Amelia sat down and they automatically linked hands.
"What do you think of Rory?" Amelia asked after a while of silence.
"Hmm?" John asked, apparently lost in his own thoughts.
"Rory," Amelia repeated. "Our servant?"
"Oh, yes, yes," John said in realization. "Rory. Um, well, I do not particularly know much about him, but he seems nice enough. Quiet, a good worker, responsible. Why?"
"Oh, no reason," Amelia lied, looking away from John's inquisitive stare.
"Amelia?" John asked, curiosity and concern in his voice. Amelia turned back to him, still avoiding his gaze and instead focusing on his perfectly shaped mouth with its pale pink lips that she had come to know so well.
"Amelia?" John said again, tenderly cupping her chin and guiding it up so that they were looking into each other's eyes. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
"I…I have had some moments of confusion," Amelia admitted, moving her hand to her one true love's warm, smooth cheek. "But after last night, I can say with absolute certainty that I love you. I love you more than anything else and the only thing I will ever want in this world is to be with you forever. Please tell me you feel the same."
"I do," John said quietly, intently, his eyes smouldering into hers.
She moved forward and pressed her lips to her lover's, her heart filling with joy when he responded in full.
"She's my wife," Rory said after five minutes of sitting on the metal platform with his head in his hands, thinking through everything. "She's my wife and she's engaged to the Doctor."
"How's that for cross-gendered polygamy?" Thomas said from beside Rory, his little legs swinging off the edge of the platform.
"You think this is funny?" Rory demanded harshly, turning to the boy alien.
"Kind of," he responded easily, shrugging.
"What's your name?" Rory asked. "Your real name."
"Viattomuus."
"Is that a real language or just some alien language?"
"Well, you would call it Finnish, but really, my race invented it."
"And what would your race be?" Rory asked, too emotionally burned out to be really curious.
"The Todellisuudessa Benders," the boy said, looking straight ahead.
"Which means…?"
"Reality Benders."
They sat in silence for a moment before Viattomuus jumped off the platform and stood in front of Rory.
"I'm going to give you two options," he said, his arms once again behind his back. "Either I give Amy and the Doctor their memories back and everything goes back to your version of normal, or you can leave them here and come with me."
"And why in the hell would I do that?" Rory demanded.
The boy simply raised one hand and snapped his fingers, an image of Amy appearing on the wall.
"So which will you choose?" the voice of Tabitha said. "Master Smith or Rory?"
"John," Amy said after a second. "It will always be John."
The image switched to one of her with the Doctor on a rocking bench.
"I love you. I love you more than anything else and the only thing I want in this world is to be with you forever."
Viattomuus snapped again and the images vanished.
"That's why," he said quietly and gently to the shocked-looking Rory.
"She…She doesn't know me," Rory said with half-hearted certainty.
"Sure, that's one reason," Viattomuus said. "And I think you know the other."
"But…If you return their memories, then she'll love me again," Rory said hopefully.
"Rory, this is how she felt already," Viattomuus said gently. "The only difference is her love for you isn't there to combat her love for him."
"No," Rory insisted. "She married me."
"Rory, look at them." Viattomuus snapped and an image of Amy and the Doctor kissing appeared on the wall. "Look how happy they are."
"But she loves me more than him," Rory repeated.
"She ran away with another man the night before your wedding," Viattomuus said compassionately. "She waited twelve years for him and the left with him two years after that. Does that really sound like she loves you more than him?"
"But I…We…I love her," Rory said quietly, his throat constricting. "I love her and I would do anything for her."
"But what good is it when she doesn't feel the same way?"
"You don't know how she feels," Rory croaked out.
"Yes, I do," the boy said regretfully. "And you do too… So, which is it going to be? Let them be and find someone who will really love you or give them back their memories and continue to question and doubt Amy's feelings?"
Rory pondered for a moment, watching his wife kissing another man and realised that he didn't care how it happened, he just wanted to be with Amy, even if she was in love with the Doctor. He knew it would only hurt him more to see them together, but he would never forgive himself if he just left her. Besides, if it was what she wanted, then as her friend, Rory should be there to support her.
"What'll it be?" Viattomuus asked again, his little arms crossed over his chest.
"Give them their memories back," Rory said with firm resolve.
Amy and the Doctor vanished from the wall and Viattomuus just looked at Rory, his youthful face expressionless.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice as expressionless as his face.
"Give them their memories back," Rory repeated, still firmly.
Viattomuus just looked at Rory, his expression changing to increasingly irritated.
"They don't care about you," he said.
"Return their memories and go." Rory got up and stood in front of Viattomuus, towering over the small alien.
"They looked at each other before Viattomuus spoke again.
"You're gonna regret this," he said. He snapped his fingers a third time and vanished.
Amy and the Doctor froze, their lips still connected. The Doctor pulled away and they looked at each other in shock. They stayed like that for a minute before they both jumped up.
"Eeehhh-ah-ha," the Doctor said, wiping his lips and rubbing at his face.
"Oh, my god, oh, my god," Amy said, furiously wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
The two looked shakily into each other's eyes for another minute before the Doctor took off for the TARDIS, Amy right behind him.
"The Todellisuudessa Benders," the Doctor said in his professional voice, jumping and running around the TARDIS control room while Amy and Rory stood near the consol, watching him go. "Can't say I've ever interacted with them. Heard legends, yes, but meeting one? It's never happened before, but there's always a first time for everything. And sometimes—well, most often, well, kind of, well, sometimes—a second time for everything. Which is quite good for some things—well, most things, well, half of things—and really bad for others. For example, I think it would be fun to meet Shakespeare for a second time. But when it comes to the Todellisuudessa Benders, it's my view that one meeting is quite enough. But Rory, you were quite right to refuse this…"
The Doctor paused in his ramblings to look questioningly at Rory.
"Viattomuus," Rory provided.
"Viattomuus," the Doctor repeated, continuing to move around his ship. "Wonderful name. Finnish for 'innocence'. Well, not really Finnish, it's just what the language is known as. When in reality, the Todellisuudessa Benders developed the language about a thousand years before it was developed on Earth. But, yes, as I was saying, you were quite right to refuse him, Rory. If you had not, there is no doubt that Amy and I would have felt something missing for the rest of our lives. And you, dear Rory, you would most likely would have gone insane and lost your mind and then either would have been locked in an asylum or burned for being a witch, depending on what time you landed in. Well, maybe not a witch. Perhaps heretic would be more appropriate. Or perhaps if you landed in that sort of time, then people would've assumed that you were possessed by a demon and tried to exorcise you, and then would have burned you when that didn't work. But none of that will happen now—well, probably not—because you refused Viattomuus and now we're all back to normal and back together and—"
"But I still remember," Amy interrupted. "What happened."
"Well, of course you do," the Doctor said, standing o the balcony and leaning on the railing. "What happened is a part of all of our lives now, so of course we'll remember it."
"Rory, you know I love you, right?" Amy asked, turning to her husband, a pleading note in her voice. "More than the Doctor, more than anything."
"It's okay," Rory said forgivingly. "You didn't know who I was and he was your fiancée. And, I mean, at least all you did was kiss, right?"
Amy and the Doctor made eye contact and looked meaningfully at each other.
"You did only kiss, right?" Rory asked worriedly, Amy and the Doctor's eyes snapping to him before going to each other again.
"Oh, my god," Rory said in broken shock, shakily sitting down on the bench.
"Rory, it's like you said," Amy said, rushing up to her husband. "I didn't know you. And we were about to get married."
"But still," Rory said shakily, not looking at his wife. "I mean, you didn't have to…" He swallowed hard before continuing. "I mean, didn't you—Wasn't there anything—any part of you—telling you not to?" Rory looked up into Amy's eyes, his own shining with hurt tears of unintentional betrayal.
"Yes," Amy said after a moment, her eyes steady. "Yes, there was something telling me not to, but I didn't know what it was, so I ignored it."
"Just tell me…" Rory swallowed again. "Was it better…with him?"
"Rory Williams," Amy said intently after another moment. "I love you. I know you sometimes think I love him, but it's not him. It's you. You are the one I want to spend forever with. You are my one true love."
"Promise?" Rory asked, a look of childlike innocence in his eyes.
"Promise," Amy swore, pressing her lips to Rory's.
For Allanah.
P.S. You are worth fighting for.
3