If I owned Doctor Who, do you think I'd be sitting in my room writing bad fanfiction all night?
Written for Sav. It was a bit hard for me because I don't ship 11/Amy and I had to break apart the Ponds and Doctor/River but I'm pleased with the result.
A woman sat on a wicker armchair inside a white gazebo, reading today's paper and nibbling on a piece of cinnamon toast. The flowery rich air hides the smells of hair dye and nail polish, carrying the aroma of fruit trees and roses and the sugar cookies that the house next-door is baking. Outside, it's a beautiful sunny day. Birds are chirping, flitting around the perfect garden like multicoloured fairies. A blue jay alights on a bird feeder, bringing its majestic head down to nibble on a sesame seed. A small cluster of peach and apricot trees are laden with fruit, the occasional fruit dropped whisked away by a small family of brown squirrels. The air is warm and lazy with summertime, sunlight filtering through the screen of the gazebo.
Amelia Pond was miserable.
She had had three years. Three perfect years, years of peace and love and soccer games and white picket fences. She thought she was safe - after everything that she had faced, everything she had done, Earth didn't seem so dangerous anymore.
So it came as a shock when she was forced to remember that car crashes were just as deadly as the shot of a Dalek.
Rory had died happy. It was painless, they told her. He was driving home from the hospital when someone lost control of the wheel. The driver was just a girl, just seventeen, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She had attended the funeral and cried almost as much as Amy had.
Of course, Amy couldn't help but hate her.
Her garden grew unkempt. She lost contact with her friends, quit her job, ripped her phone from the wall.
How could I have thought this would be better?
She had been a superhero once. Saved civilisations, fought epic battles. And she had given it up. She had discarded her Batman mask and become Bruce Wayne once more.
The Doctor had made her watch those movies.
They'd jumped to the future to get tickets to the premiere. Just her and him, before the wedding and the daleks and River and when everything got screwed to hell. They had spent the entire film laughing in the back of the theatre, her head on his shoulder, his hand in hers.
Amy missed those hands.
"Amy." A voice broke her from her thoughts. "Amy, it's me."
"No, it's not," Amy said softly, still staring at her half-eaten toast. "I'm dreaming."
There was a hand on her shoulder now, so warm, so familiar. Amy knew those hands. She finally dared to look up.
And he was there. His eyes were the definition of worried, hands in the pockets of a new black tweed jacket. His bow tie was askew and his dark rumpled hair was falling across that face of his that was way too rectangular have any business being so attractive.
"You dyed your hair," the Doctor said stupidly after a few moments.
"You have a new jacket," Amy replied, instinctively reaching up to touch a lock of her freshly-coloured brown hair. "I don't like it."
"I don't like your hair," he replied quickly, worried gaze still fixed upon her head.
Finally, something inside her broke. She stood up, knocking her breakfast to the ground where the plate shattered with a loud crack.
"How are you here." It's less of a question and more of a command.
The Doctor looked down at his shoes, trying to hide the sadness and regret that was filling his eyes. "When Rory died, the paradox was broken. Your timeline was unlocked."
"When Rory died - when Rory died?" She's in a frenzy now, the words spilling from her lips like a dam had been broken. "Rory died two years ago. Two years. Two of the most miserable years of my life. I had nothing. I had no one. And you show up now?"
The Doctor looked more miserable then she had seen him in his life. When he spoke, his voice was broken.
"I didn't think you'd want me to come."
Amy stared, open-mouthed. "How could you say that." Don't blame this on me, Doctor, because I don't think I can take it.
The Doctor finally looked up, his eyes shining with tears. "You chose Rory. You left the life I could give you for the love that he did. I tried to move on. New companions, new friends. I miss them." He swallowed. "But they weren't you."
And suddenly she's kissing him, and his hands aren't flailing and wild, they're comforting, wrapping around her like they were always there.
"Your wife might have something to say to that," she giggled once they broke apart. It had been so long since she had been held like that.
The Doctor laughed, but it was tinged with sadness. "River died sixty-five years ago. Maybe I'm allowed move on."
She hugged him now, unsure of what to say. Of course it had been longer for him then for her. Guess he finally learned to wait. "I'm sorry."
He smiled and kissed her again, but it was soft, light."Back to the TARDIS?" he whispered, lips only a few inches from hers.
"Where else?" she laughed, "Let's go." The Doctor's face broke into a wide, boyish grin. Taking her hand in his, he gave it a kiss before pulling her towards the TARDIS.
"Where do you want to go? We could go anywhere! The ocean planet of Ancapsylon Four, or maybe the Planet of the Couches, most comfortable place I've ever been!" He laughed as he ran along, looking like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
As they reached the doors of the TARDIS, Amy stopped, turning towards the Doctor. "Anywhere," she breathed. "Everywhere. Take me to the Planet of the Nokia Phones, I don't care. I just need to go somewhere."
The Doctor just grinned and pushed open the doors.
Amy had never gotten over the beauty of the TARDIS. It seemed to hum once she stepped in, as if saying welcome back, Amelia. Welcome home.
The Doctor pulled a small box out of his pocket, smiled shyly.
"Yalow's Best Hair Dye Removal?" she read, laughing. He gave her a hug. "I've missed you, Amelia Williams."
She laughed, sinking into his embrace. "It's Amelia Pond.