Slight AU: River does not exist, but Amy is happily pregnant with a Miss Melody Pond.
"Rory."
No response.
"Rory." This prompting was followed by a nudge.
Rory Pond swatted her hand away with a pitiful expression.
"Rory, I can't sleep."
Rory forced his sealed eyelids to part. Blinking into the darkness, he could see the outline of his wife sitting up against the headboard of their bed. His very, very pregnant wife.
"Neither could I," he agreed quickly.
Amy rolled her eyes but smiled. "Do you think we have any pickles?"
Rory blinked, still attempting to shrug off his slumber. "What?"
"I think I'm getting one of those midnight cravings," she stated, placing a hand over her swollen belly.
Rory groaned a noncommittal response, his eyes fluttering shut of their own accord.
Suddenly, Amy swung her legs over the side of the bed and switched on the bedside lamp.
Rory immediately shut his eyes against the harsh light. When he dared to squint them open, he saw Amy struggling to push her pregnant body off of the bed.
"Where are you going?" he questioned, groggily.
"Do you ever listen to me?"
That question had Rory's sensitive eyes wide open. He knew a pregnancy-influenced mood swing when he heard one. One could only make it out of such a conversation by treading very, very carefully.
As such, all the dear husband could muster was a precarious, "Um…"
Amy turned her glare on him, temporarily forgoing her attempts to rise from the bed.
"Hey! Here's an idea," Rory offered, easily throwing himself out from under the covers to land on his feet, "I will go fetch you the pickles."
Amy didn't relinquish her glare until Rory had safely escaped their bedroom.
Two minutes later, Rory returned with a jar of pickles for his wife. He quickly flicked the lamp back off, handed her the chilled jar, and promptly flopped back onto his side of the bed.
It was so warm. It was the plushest push that he had ever felt. (Or, at least, that was what it felt like at two in the morning.) He would never leave his bed again.
The blinding light flick back on, piercing through his closed eyelids.
"Rory."
"Yes, dear," Rory mumbled.
"These are sweet pickles."
"The only pickles in our fridge," he added, remembering how his wife had insisted on sweet pickles at the grocery store three days ago.
"Are you sure we don't have dill…?"
Rory flopped his head into his hand, supporting it as he looked up at his wife. She looked so hopeful. His beautiful, very pregnant wife. How could he deny her a thing?
"I'll run to the store," he said. After all, it was all a part of the soon-to-be-father experience, wasn't it? Fetching things for a wife's midnight cravings should to be a rite of passage into fatherhood.
Amy grinned and kissed her husband. "You're lovely."
Rory had pulled on a jumper and had fetched his wallet and keys. He would run to the store around the corner, grab dill pickles, and come back. Then, then he would sleep for a few good years.
However, as he pulled open his front door, an overly zealous face instantly greeted him. "Hello, Rory Pond!"
Rory let out a small, unmanly shriek that he would be sure to deny later.
"Why are you up at such an hour?" the Doctor asked, unaffected by his companion's reaction.
"What are you doing on my front porch at two in the morning?" Rory hissed back, trying to not let his wife know a certain Time Lord had resurfaced. (At least until the morning.) He desperately wanted any shenanigans to wait until he had finished his goodnight's rest.
"Now, that is a story for the ages," the Doctor began as Rory pushed them back out onto the doorstep, swiftly shutting the front door behind them. "Have you heard of the Thesoloniacs, Rory?"
"No, I can't say I have," Rory answered, still fighting off lingering sleep as he walked towards his car.
"Oh, they're a marvelous race!" the Doctor remarked, his voice filled with wonder. "They've got hands as big as their faces!"
Rory slid into the driver's side of his treasured car, and the Doctor nonchalantly followed him into the passenger's seat.
After buckling, the Doctor's smile faltered. "Come to think of it, my hand is as big as my face." He raised his palm to his face, sizing them up.
Rory shot the mad man a concerned look before merging onto the road.
The two sat in silence for a few moments; Rory groggily stared out at the moonlit road as the Doctor gave up on studying his hand-to-face comparison.
"Say, Rory," the Doctor began casually, "where exactly are we off to? Where's Amy?"
"She is in bed, craving pickles," Rory stated, signaling to turn onto the next street.
"Pickles!" the Doctor parroted, his eyebrows shooting up with interest. He turned back to watching the road. "I do enjoy pickles.
"And so we are…?"
"Fetching her a jar."
"Of pickles?"
"Dill pickles," Rory amended. Apparently, the adjective was an important indicator.
"A bit late to be fetching a jar of dill pickles, isn't it?" the Doctor noted.
Rory wouldn't argue against that. "She's been having these midnight cravings for the past few months. I thought it was only supposed to be in the early stages of pregnancy, but what would I know? I'm merely a nur—"
"Pregnancy!" the Doctor shouted gleefully as they pulled into the store parking lot. "Amelia Pond is pregnant?"
Rory couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face as he killed the engine. He and Amy were to be parents. "Yeah."
The Doctor lurched at the nurse and pulled him into an eager hug. He planted a large kiss on Rory's cheek and stated joyously, "There's going to be a baby Pond!"
Rory continued to grin goofily until he noticed the time on his watch. "And it's going to be fatherless if we don't hurry with these pickles."
(Meanwhile in another universe)
It was a late night in the house. Rose sat with her knees against her chest, nursing a cuppa. Beside her, a certain Time Lord duplicate had a tool box strewn across their kitchen table. His sonic screwdriver lay open, ready to be meddled with. The Doctor turned it over in his hands, squinting at the design through his brainy specs.
Rose closed her eyes in contentment, enjoying the feel of the warm mug against her fingertips. These were her favourite nights, merely sitting with the Doctor has he toyed with a machine beside her. She would always enjoy merely being with her Doctor, no matter the form he was presented to her in.
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.
Rose snapped her brown eyes open, listening again for the sound. It was somewhat distant, as if it had come from another room in the house.
But as she strained her ears, she no longer heard the threaded pulse.
Must be imagining things, Rose thought to herself as she returned to enjoying her cuppa. It was fairly late at night; the mind easily plays tricks on itself at this hour.
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.
Rose was sure she had heard it this time; it had definitely been louder this time. When she turned to the Doctor, she frowned in confusion. He seemed totally unaffected by the noise, continuing to mull over his weapon of choice.
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump… Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump…
This time, instead of short pulsing, the distant sound continued to echo in the back of the house.
"Doctor, d'you hear that?" Rose asked, wondering why he didn't appear to be listening for the sound.
The Doctor began screwing the side panel back onto his screwdriver, never looking up from his work. "Wha'?"
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump… Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump…
"That." Rose raised her eyebrows.
The Doctor paused his screwing, tilting his head to listen better. "Nope," he said after a moment, popping the p. He resumed reassembling his sonic screwdriver.
Rose gave him a doubting look. How on Earth did he not hear that?
He continued on, completely absorbed with the task at hand.
Rose shook her head fondly and thought to herself, Boys and their toys.
Gently, she set the mug back onto their kitchen table. She arose from the chair, deciding that she would follow the sound.
As her feet strayed down their hallway, the intensity of the thumping increased. Pulsing, louder, louder until Rose reached hers and the Doctor's bedroom. Her fingertips pressed against the ajar door, opening it further.
Something didn't feel right. In the pit of her stomach, Rose could feel how wrong this was. What it was? Oh, she had no conscious clue. But any residual energy left over from her time as Bad Wolf left her with this horrible sense of foreboding. It had been there at Canary Warf and again at Bad Wolf Bay.
Something terrible and unnatural was stirring within her unconscious mind.
The flux coagulator had been off. Really, a much easier fix than he had anticipated. With a self-satisfied smirk, the Doctor beamed the sonic screwdriver at the light fixture, causing it to flicker off and then back on.
"Sometimes my own brilliance astounds me," the Doctor gloated with a smirk. He swiveled his head upwards with his most dashing grin, expecting to see a characteristic Tyler eye roll. What he did not expect to see, however, was a vacant chair.
The Doctor let his smirk drop. Really, what was the point of showing off his genius when Rose wasn't there to be impressed?
Had she wandered off to bed already? The Doctor squinted, attempting to recall her bidding him a goodnight. Oh, she did mention a sound…
The Doctor stood with a suddenly wary expression. A sound. A sound that she had heard, but he didn't. He hadn't heard it. But he was a Time Lord; their hearing far outshined a human's abilities, Rose Tyler or not. There was no physical way she would have been able to hear a sound that he hadn't.
"Rose?" he called from his rigid stance in the kitchen.
At the silence that met him, a horrible sense of dread and guilt for not instantly listening to her began to swell within his chest.
Where had she gone?
"Rose!"
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump… Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump…
The pulsing was so loud now. Rose resisted the urge to press her hands over her ears as she entered their bedroom.
The thrumming seemed to be rolling off of their bedroom wall. The TARDIS blue wall was nearly pulsing itself with how much sound it was emitting.
Rose, being the jeopardy-friendly human she was, stepped closer and closer to the wall. Upon reaching it, she hesitantly placed a nervous hand over the wall. She could feel the vibrations radiating through the wall and into her fingertips.
"ROSE!"
The Doctor burst into the bedroom, a frantic look in his eyes. He drank in the sight of Rose well and unharmed greedily before turning his sights on the vibrating wall. At a much lower volume than what Rose was registering, he could hear a distant thrumming in the room now. The sound Rose had initially heard. The sound the Doctor had stupidly discarded.
"Rose, get away from the wall!" the Doctor pleaded frantically. He pulled out the sonic screwdriver and began scanning the sound waves.
Rose turned around and found the Doctor madly scanning the wall. Over the incredibly loud pulsing, Rose had been unable to hear her Doctor. She gave him a confused look and shouted, "What is it?!"
The Doctor lowered his screwdriver as his mouth moved. He seemed to be yelling something, (possibly her name?), and indicated for her to come stand beside him.
Rose allowed her hand to fall from the pulsing wall and took a step towards the Time Lord.
It was the only step she was able to accomplish.
An explosion rang out.
Chunks of wall went flying.
A blindingly bright light was emitted against the dark blue room.
Shards from smashed picture frames, a vase destroyed against mismatched pieces of drywall were sent flying through the air.
The sound of the explosion was nearly deafening.
The Doctor had been fortunate enough to duck and cover as their bedroom wall blew. But, as he raised his head and squinted through the settling debris, he could see that Rose had not been that lucky. She was laid haphazardly across the rubble, her temple stained and streaming with a horrifying crimson.
"Rose!" he screamed, trying to push the separating, dismantled bed frame out of his path to her.
Immediately, a heavy pair of boots stomped out of the bright, blasted hole and into their private bedroom. The intruder strongly resembled the Judoon race, matching the rhinoceros features closely. However, from the pitch black, slitted eyes and the snake-like tongues, the Doctor recognized the cousin of the Judoons: he was a Slithoon.
As more Slithoons poured out of the hole, the Doctor struggled harder to push aside the debris separating him from Rose. He knew the selfish, apathetic nature of the Slithoons. He would die a thousand deaths over before he allowed them to harm Rose.
Just as the Doctor successfully pulled the last of his wooden barriers aside, the leading Slithoon hefted a bleeding Rose Tyler over his shoulder.
"The Bad Wolf has been successfully recruited. I repeat, we have the Bad Wolf," the alien reported, turning on his heel to retreat back to the glowing, pulsing hole.
"SLITHOON!" the Doctor shouted, demanding each alien's attention.
The Slithoon holding Rose paused and faced the demanding nuisance. On each side, the alien was flanked by another Slithoon.
"I'm not quite sure how things run up on your planet Emporium, but here on Earth, we don't take kindly to having our houses explode and loved ones kidnapped!" the Doctor shouted, allowing his Donna-half to shine through in his chastisement.
"Now, I will ask you once and only once," the Doctor demanded, slowly raising his screwdriver at the mysterious blaster in one of the flanking Slithoon's hands, "Give me back Rose Tyler."
The stalemate last for a good few seconds; the Doctor continued to threaten to use his sonic screwdriver, and the Slithoons stared at the mad man.
Then, the leading Slithoon allowed his lips to snarl into a half smile. He would take his chances. With a heavy boot, he turned and walked back to the bright hole with Rose in tow.
The Oncoming Storm seemed to have a flash of lightning. In the next instant, the Doctor exploded the blaster out of another Slithoon's hands with a mere sonic of his screwdriver. The force of the blow against the powerful device electrocuted the Slithoon, stunning him into a heap upon the bedroom floor.
Just as the Doctor turned his screwdriver towards the next Slithoon, the alien spoke into his communication unit. "Threat detected. Defensive response enacted."
Before the Doctor could properly sonic his next foe, a shot rang out.
It didn't hurt at first; it really didn't. The shock of it all was too much for the Doctor's half human body.
He didn't even have a chance to process the blast nor why he was suddenly on his back, staring up at the ceiling. All at once, a burning sensation spread throughout the Doctor's chest painfully; his singular heart was failing.
Distantly, he could hear the heavy footfall of boots fade into the distance.
Perhaps it was his half Time Lord biology or maybe it was merely his desperate desire to save his Rose. The Doctor didn't know why he hadn't died instantly, but he did know his time was severely limited.
With a hideously torturous heft, the Doctor pulled himself upright. With a glance around, the Doctor saw only the unconscious Slithoon, still clutching a dimension blaster. They had taken Rose with them.
The blindingly bright hole in the wall had closed, leaving behind an achingly blank, blue one.
With another desperate heave, the Doctor forced himself to grab onto the Slithoon's forgotten blaster. If it had led them to Rose, perhaps it could lead him back to her.
Moving as quickly as his dying body allowed, the Doctor was able to push himself back upright. With a quick sonic repair, the blaster hummed back to life.
The Doctor aimed it towards the empty wall and fired; another blinding hole emerged in the wall.
With all of the effort he had left, the Doctor crawled towards the opening. He would save Rose.
He had to.
The Doctor reached the wall, bracing himself. All he could do was hope this blaster would lead him back to Rose.
With a final heave, the Doctor tilted back and fell endlessly into the white opening.
(Back in Leadworth)
There was a particular spring in the eleventh Doctor's step. Tonight was a carefree one; he was merely a friend, a family member enjoying another's company.
Oh and with a little Pond on the way! It was a fantastic night.
Upon reaching the front step of the Ponds' porch, Rory held out a hand to the Doctor, blocking his path.
"Doctor, I really do appreciate you coming to the store with me," Rory began tiredly, clutching the dear jar of dill pickles to his chest.
The Doctor grinned satisfactorily.
"And your ten different stories about Thesoloniacs were quite fascinating."
The Doctor smirked to himself, attempting to look bashful.
"But I need you to leave."
The Doctor blinked up, the smirk sliding off of his face. "Rory! You just said you enjoyed my companionship!"
"I do!" Rory hurried to explain himself. "I would, however, greatly appreciate it much more in the morning. I do need to sleep sometime, Doctor."
The Doctor tried to mask his displeasure at being shooed away. "I am not ruckus, Rory Pond. I am capable of quietly waiting on your couch until the morning," he replied indignantly.
Rory did not look convinced. "You could just take a quick hop to the morning, couldn't you? A pop into the TARDIS?"
The Doctor glanced over at his TARDIS. For a few moments, he remained thoughtfully silent.
Rory mistook the mad man's quietness and hurried to further explain himself. "We really do love you, Doctor. I've just been on shift all day is all, and I would like to catch up on some sleep before this baby is born… Doctor?"
The Doctor snapped back to attention, a quick grin instantly masking his face. "Right! Sorry! Rory, why don't you bring those dill pickles up to Miss Amelia, and I will take a quick hop into the TARDIS and just return in the morning?"
With a swift turn on his boot's heel, the Doctor left Rory blinking dumbly on the porch. "Sleep well, Pond!"
With a rather confused scrunch of the eyebrows, Rory turned his key into his front door and went to do just that.
But what the Centurion hadn't noticed, and what the Doctor had, was a flashing beacon atop the TARDIS roof. Seemingly useless to a passerby, the Doctor knew exactly its meaning: a distress signal.
The Doctor's footsteps quickened. Whoever had signaled it had to be inside of the TARDIS. Whoever was inside of the TARDIS had to know the Doctor very personally.
Whoever had signaled the light was in grave danger.
Sorry this chapter was a bit slow—I needed to get this prequelly bit up in order to pave the way for the storyline. (It gets better, I promise.) Please drop by a review, if you could. I'd love any input!
Also, another sorry if any information is incorrect; I'm American so I tried my best with the lingo.
I will try to update as soon as possible.
Thank you for reading!