Amy had been resting fitfully. The backyard wasn't meant to be slept in. That hadn't stopped her in the past, though. She was woken suddenly by a sound she'd waited years to hear again – it was the Doctor and his blue box. As the TARDIS materialized in almost the exact spot as it had ten years before, Amy sat up.
And, there he was – her Doctor. He poked his head out – taking in his surroundings – rather sheepishly, in Amy's opinion, before catching sight of the redhead.
"Am I late?"
Amy rose to her full height, letting him take all of her in. "I don't know, Doctor. What do you think?" her accent more pronounced due to the emotional turmoil she was experiencing.
The Doctor's eyes widened to comical proportions. My, but she's grown, he thought to himself. How late am I, and how long has she been waiting?
"How old are you?" he asked at last.
"Seventeen."
"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no! I promised you five minutes. It wasn't supposed to take me ten years."
"But it did, Doctor. And I've been waiting all this time."
The Doctor stepped fully out of the TARDIS. "Amelia—" he began.
"It's Amy now, actually," she corrected.
"What?" he asked, momentarily distracted. "Amelia was such a lovely name. Why the change?"
"It's a little too fairy-tale-like, don't you think?" she replied, throwing his own words back in his face.
"Amy—" he continued, only to be cut off once more by Amy.
THWACK!
A red mark was now forming in the shape of a hand, imprinted on the Doctor's cheek.
THWACK!
Amy struck his other cheek, and, despite the throbbing in his face, the Doctor was able to admire the brilliant fire that was burning in Amelia Pond's eyes.
"Okay, I deserved that," he conceded.
Amy then flew at him and began to pound on his chest with her fists. "You said you'd come back for me – you broke your promise. What kept you?"
The Doctor let her beat him, feeling that it was the least he deserved for having unintentionally abandoned her for ten years. Once she'd finally stilled her movements, he carefully wrapped his arms around her, bringing her to rest against his chest where she could hear the steady thump-thump of his two hearts beating.
"I honestly don't know," he told her. "Something must have happened to affect the TARDIS during my last regeneration. You have to believe me, Amy – I had no idea that five minutes for me would be ten years for you."
Amy drew back, sure she looked like a raccoon what with her make-up all smeared from the tears she'd shed. "I believe you, Doctor. I've always believed."
The Doctor, while initially startled at Amy bursting into tears, soon came to accept that he'd hurt her and would have to live with that guilt. No, what shook him was Amy's appearance. Apparently, she'd been wearing a lot of make-up, but her crying jag had washed it all away. In its place was a massive bruise that covered her right eye.
"Amy!" he exclaimed.
"What?" she asked, before realization struck. She made to pull away, but the Doctor held fast.
"Who did that to you?" he asked sternly.
The Doctor looked so solemn and cross that Amy was momentarily frightened.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," she said, attempting to bluff her way out.
"I'm no fool, Amy Pond. Someone hit you and I want to know who it was."
Amy deflated. She hadn't known the Doctor for long – less than a day – but she had immediately recognized him to be unfailingly kind and compassionate, and that he had a strong sense of justice. And – for some inexplicable reason – he cared for her, which meant that he would be concerned for her safety.
"My aunt," she whispered, her head buried against his chest to muffle the confession.
Still keeping his arm securely fastened around her, the Doctor set off towards the house, his long and furious strides causing Amy to run to keep up.
"She won't be there," Amy informed him hurriedly. "She's rarely home before midnight."
"Why's that?" The Doctor was confused. This woman was responsible for Amy, yet she would leave her on her own for hours at a time?
"She's in to partying," was Amy's explanation.
"That's no excuse for leaving you home alone," reasoned the Doctor.
"Maybe not, but it's never stopped her before," Amy admitted.
The Doctor slowed his steps, though Amy remained in his arms. By now, they'd reached the door, which the Doctor vividly recalled opening to throw out a piece of bread and butter. Chuckling to himself, he guided them inside and headed towards the kitchen.
"Sit," he ordered gently. Amy readily obeyed. The Doctor, though, refused Amy's offer of a chair. Rather, he knelt down on the floor, so as to be level with her face. "Now, tell me everything that's happened in the past ten years. And don't leave anything out. I won't thank you for sparing my feelings."
"Yes, sir," said Amy quietly, though a quirk to her lips let the Doctor know that she wasn't usually this submissive.
They talked for what must have been hours – though, if asked, neither would have noticed the time passing. Both cried many times: Amy, from remembering the ever-present pain that had been a part of her life; the Doctor, from realizing the full impact his abandonment had had on Amy. He determined, then and there, that he would go back in time to watch Amy grow up. If hearing about the isolation and the bullying that had directly resulted from their earlier interaction had been hard to handle, then actually seeing the events talked about take place would be infinitely worse. But, as the Doctor had already thought, it was no more than he deserved.
"I used to have friends – one, that is. His name was Rory Williams. But when I became known as that mad, impossible Amy Pond, he decided that being my friend would hurt his reputation, so he turned on me, becoming my main tormentor."
"But you're still my mad, impossible Amy Pond," said the Doctor with his gentle, all-knowing smile. After a moment's pause, though, he asked, "Aren't you?" a note of uncertainty entering his voice.
"Yeah, I am," Amy replied, returning the Doctor's easy smile. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. When life became too much for me to handle, I clung to the knowledge that you were somewhere out there, and that you'd do all in your power to come back for me. It was that – that foolish belief that someone actually cared – that kept me going."
The Doctor held her tighter, resting his head on top of her own and planting a light kiss on her brow. "I'm here now – that's all that matters."
"And you won't leave me again . . . will you?" asked Amy childishly.
"Never," the Doctor vowed.
"Good. A heart can only break so many times before it becomes irreparable."
"I am so, so incredibly sorry, Amy," he whispered, his own hearts breaking at her casual confession. "I will spend the rest of our time together – however long that is – making it up to you. That is, if you'll have me."
"Doctor," began Amy patiently. "Why would I wait this long if I planned on rejecting you?"
"That's a fair point," said the Doctor as he rose to his feet, Amy following. "Come here, you," he murmured, opening his arms.
Amy flew to him so enthusiastically that he was forced to retreat several paces before recovering his balance. Their arms were wrapped tightly around one another, and they were laughing, when they heard a disturbance in the doorway.
"Amelia Jessica Pond! What do you think you are doing?"
The two turned to find a woman standing in the doorway – an imposing sight to many, but not to the Doctor, who guessed this to be Amy's Aunt Sharon, and certainly not to Amy, who had grown up with the woman.
The Doctor instinctively positioned himself in front of Amy as he sought to shield her from any further harm.
"I said," the woman repeated, "What do you think you are doing?"
"I heard you, Auntie," Amy replied.
"She doesn't have to answer to the likes of you," sneered the Doctor.
"And who might you be, young man?" she inquired.
"I'm the Doctor," he said calmly, awaiting her reaction with glee.
"No! It can't be. But you . . . you were nothing more than a figment of Amy's wild imagination – a fairy tale, nothing more."
"Oh, I can assure you – I was never a figment of Amy's imagination. I've been around – floating through time and space. It just took me a little longer than expected to come back for your niece. But now that I'm here, I intend to see to it that Amy never returns to your care."
"You can't do that! I'm her legal guardian."
"Maybe so," said the Doctor. "But that's the funny thing about time travel. I could come and go in the space of a minute, and you couldn't tell the difference. I could leave with Amy and be back by morning. But that's not going to happen. If I leave with Amy, I won't be bringing her back – not to a woman who beats her."
"That's none of your concern," Sharon exclaimed.
"I'm making it my business – that's all that matters. You've hurt Amy – emotionally and physically. Now that I'm here, I intend to protect her from any further harm by doing what I should have done a long time ago – I'm taking her with me."
"Oh, Doctor! Really?" cried Amy.
"If you're willing," he replied, turning to face her.
"I'm more than willing, Doctor," said Amy, throwing her arms around him again. The Doctor patted her back reassuringly before – regretfully – releasing her to face her aunt once more.
"We're going, and there's nothing you can do to stop us. Any last words?" he asked, though his tone indicated that he thought otherwise. At her silence, he nodded once before turning to Amy, holding out his hand for her to take. "Come on, Amy."
"I'll just be a minute. I have to pack a bag," she said apologetically, knowing the Doctor wanted to leave as soon as possible, just as much – if not more – than she did.
"Let me come with you. I haven't been in your room for ten years. I'd like to see how that crack in your wall is doing."
"Okay," she said amenably, though there was an edge to her voice that the Doctor was quick to pick up on.
Ignoring Aunt Sharon completely, they exited the kitchen and made their way upstairs. Pausing imperceptibly outside her room, Amy opened the door.
What the Doctor saw amazed him. On the wall were countless pictures – all hand-drawn – of him and the TARDIS. "Amy . . ." he whispered breathlessly as he began to move about the room, fingers ghosting over the colors that had evidently been painted with such loving care.
"I know it might seem a little over-the-top and bordering on hero worship," she said, rambling, "But I didn't want to forget a single thing about that night, especially when everyone else persisted in telling me that I was out of my mind—"
"Come here, you," said the Doctor, pulling her into a warm embrace that effectively cut her off mid-sentence. "I think they're brilliant."
"You do – really?"
"Really really," he replied, playfully tapping her on the nose with a single digit.
"Good," she sighed, settling herself comfortably against his chest. "I was worried you'd think I was crazy – like everyone else seems to."
"Oh, Amy Pond – when are you going to learn that I'm not like other people? I will never condemn you for being yourself!"
"Thank you, Doctor," said Amy, her head resting directly between his two hearts, their steady thump-thump reassuring her that she wasn't in the middle of a very vivid dream.
As though he could read her mind, the Doctor chose that moment to say, "This is real, Amelia. I'm here, you're here, and we're going away together."
Amy held him tighter. No words were needed – doctor and companion understood each other.
Suppressing a whimper as she pulled away, Amy shot the Doctor a friendly smile as she flitted about the room, throwing clothes into a suitcase and hoping it would last her.
The Doctor watched her amusedly. "That isn't necessary, you know," he commented, motioning to the suitcase on her bed. "The TARDIS has a complete wardrobe and can provide you with anything you could possibly want or need."
"Then what are we doing still standing here? Let's go!" Amy exclaimed.
Laughing at her exuberance, the Doctor allowed himself to be forcibly dragged from the room, down the stairs, and outside where the TARDIS waited patiently.
"Here we are – my home. It's yours now too, you know," declared the Doctor.
Amy stared at him incredulously, making the Doctor laugh.
"And here," he continued, drawing something out of his pocket and placing into her hand. "This is a key to the TARDIS. Consider it one of your frequent flyer's privileges."
"I love it. Thank you, Doctor," said Amy, throwing her arms enthusiastically around him.
"Would you like a tour?" he whispered in her ear.
Wordlessly, Amy nodded. The Doctor made a flourish and motioned her through the door.
"It's so much bigger on the inside," she gasped. The Doctor chuckled to himself at how unoriginal humans could be.
As the Doctor explained the workings of the TARDIS, and how it got inside one's head and was able to translate any alien language, he showed her to her room, as well as where the wardrobe was. Amy, who wasn't very picky when it came to her clothes, emerged a short while later in jeans and red long-sleeved shirt that highlighted her hair.
"Very nice," proclaimed the Doctor as she gave an experimental twirl.
"I'm glad you approve," she said.
As she walked by him, the Doctor reached out his hands to snag her as she passed, placing them delicately on her waist and drawing her flush against his chest. They stood that way for several minutes, just basking in the togetherness that they had sorely missed.
"Amy," said the Doctor at last. "I have a proposition for you."
"Mmm, what is it?" she murmured.
"I want to go back in time and visit you."
That snapped Amy out of the daze she was in. "What?"
"I want to go back in time to watch you grow up," he clarified.
"You . . . want to go back in time . . . to watch me . . . grow up?" asked Amy incredulously. "Are you insane?"
"I have my moments," said the Doctor with his ever-present cheeky grin. He soon sobered, though. "Please, Amy. It's the least I deserve for leaving you on your own for ten years."
"So, what – this is some sort of punishment? You go back to watch my miserable existence, and then come back to the present – or whenever this is – and beat yourself up for all eternity? No, sir – I won't let you."
"Amy, I'm doing this with or without your permission. I just want to know what you went through so that I can understand who you are now."
"You already know who I am, Doctor," said Amy, desperate to keep the Doctor from learning about her past. "I'm who I am today because of you."
The Doctor closed his eyes, but not before Amy caught a glimpse of something in their depths . . . a pain of some kind. And she couldn't shake the notion that she'd put it there. But that was impossible. How could one little meeting ten years ago have had such an effect on a 900-something-year-old Time Lord? Surely there had been other companions before her. So why was she so special that she was the one to cause that look of pain to enter his eyes?
"Please – don't say what you can't possibly mean."
"I'm completely serious, Doctor," said Amy. "Whether you came back in five minutes or in five years, meeting you changed my life – for the better."
"No . . . it can't be true."
"But it is. Why can't you accept that?"
"Because," the Doctor huffed in frustration as he tried to sort out his many thoughts, "Every companion that I've ever traveled with has felt an immediate connection with me, only to leave in the end – every single time, without fail. Just once, I'd rather it developed slowly. Perhaps that would make the inevitable separation easier."
"Is that what has you worried?" Amy gave a derisive snort. "Well, I don't plan on leaving – ever."
"That's the thing, Amy," said the Doctor patiently. "None of the others ever planned on leaving either . . . usually. Only Martha left by choice – lovely girl, Martha – I think you two would have gotten on well together." At Amy's pointed glare, the Doctor gave her a sheepish smile before continuing. "Anyway, the point is – everyone leaves, and I'm alone again. But, you – this time is different, and I want us to last. That's why – if we're going to make this work – I have to see what you've been through. Please, Amy?"
Amy sighed in defeat, resigning herself to the fact that the Doctor was going to see her past one way or another. At least this way she could come along to monitor his reactions. "Alright – who am I to argue in the face of such logic?"
"Who indeed?" the Doctor queried, giving her a calculating glance – as though he were reading the inner workings of her very soul. Shaking himself from his stupor, he headed towards the control panel of the TARDIS. "So, where to first, Pond?" he shot over his shoulder.
"Doesn't matter. I've seen it all before, remember? Where would you like to start?"
In response, the Doctor punched in several coordinates. He was curious as to Amy's reaction the morning after his disappearance.
As the TARDIS came to a grinding halt, Amy approached the doors cautiously. "When are we?" she asked, knowing better than to ask "Where are we?" After all, if the Doctor was interested in watching her grow up, where else would they be but Leadworth?
"Why don't you find out?" he asked her teasingly.
They were parked near her house – close, but not too close. After all, they didn't want Amy-of-the-past to spot them, thereby messing up her future timeline.
Meanwhile, Amy-of-the-present set out determinedly for her house, the Doctor following after locking the TARDIS behind them.
They approached Amy's house cautiously, wary of any visitors. They stumbled upon the backyard where they found a young girl – one with fiery red hair and wearing a coat and hat to match – sitting by herself on a suitcase.
"You brought me back to the next morning?" Amy hissed dangerously.
"And why not?" the Doctor countered. "What better place to start than when it all began – the time I first let you down?"
Amy shrugged off his self-deprecating statement to watch the scene that was unfolding before her very eyes.
"Amelia Jessica Pond, where are you?" came an irate shout from the doorway. The woman speaking scanned the yard for signs of her elusive niece before spotting her sitting by the garden shed.
"There you are, Amelia," she declared, striding forward and yanking her to her feet.
Seven-year-old Amy woke with a start, glancing around desperately for the mad man in the funny blue box. All she saw was her aunt. That didn't discourage her, though.
Whether something went wrong or not, the Doctor will be coming back for me. He promised.
"Auntie, the most wonderful thing happened. There was this man with a blue box who fell from the sky and crash-landed in our backyard. He seemed lost, so I took him inside and fed him. You should have seen him – none of the food was to his liking. I gave him an apple, yogurt, bacon, beans, then bread and butter, before he tried fish fingers and custard and loved it! Then he took a look at the crack in my wall. I'm not afraid anymore – because of him! He's called the Doctor."
"What are you babbling about, child?" asked Amy's Aunt Sharon, "Such nonsense. Go to your room and stay there until you are ready to apologize for telling lies."
The two disappeared inside the house, Aunt Sharon roughly shoving Amy ahead of her. Nonetheless, though, the two observers saw how seven-year-old Amelia's expression dropped. Once the door had shut behind them, seventeen-year-old Amy turned to the Doctor.
"Well, Doctor. Are you happy now?" she asked him. There were tears in both their eyes: Amy, who was remembering the pain that came with finding out that the only member left of her family didn't believe her; the Doctor, who couldn't erase the disappointed look on little Amelia's face at her aunt's quick dismissal of her claims.
I caused that, he thought reproachfully.
When he turned to face his young companion, Amy took an involuntary step back. He looks so old, she thought morosely. "Doctor, are you alright?" she asked, gently placing a hand on his arm.
"Oh, yeah. I'm just dandy. What do you think? After watching that display . . ." The Doctor shook his head, staring at the ground, afraid to look at Amy.
But Amy would have none of that. "Hey," she said, ducking down to catch his eye. "I'm fine, alright? I'm here, aren't I? No lasting damage done."
"Not to the naked eye," said the Doctor, agreeing to an extent. "But do you really think that my abandoning you has had no part to play in shaping who you've become? What about your aunt's treatment of you? How long did that go on for, anyway? Did she make you stay in your room all day?"
"Possibly," answered Amy evasively.
The Doctor took that to mean that he was correct in his assumptions. "Did she harm you in any way – physically, I mean?"
"Why don't you find out for yourself?" challenged Amy.
"I will," said the Doctor, turning on his heel and striding off. "Coming, Pond?"
Amy shook her head ruefully before jogging to catch up.
Once inside, the Doctor re-set the coordinates, this time taking them to when Amy would have been eight years old.
When they next emerged, it was near Amy's elementary school. She was sitting by herself on one of the swings when a group of kids approached.
"Hey, Pond," called the leader. "Been to see the Doctor lately?"
"Go away, Rory," said Amy passively.
"Make me." Rory shared a conspiring wink with his classmates. "I hear your aunt's been taking you to see a shrink – Crazy Amy."
Amy gave no sign acknowledging Rory's presence.
"He's not real, you know," Rory continued. "And even if he were, he's never coming back. Why would he? You're nothing but a pathetic little girl. Why'd he want to get stuck with you?"
"Shut up!" Amy yelled suddenly. She pushed off the swing, eyes blazing, and threw herself at Rory. She attacked, punching and smacking and even biting wherever she could, leaving Rory powerless to resist. All he could do was call for help.
Finally, a teacher noticed the commotion and managed to pull the two apart. They were both sent to the principal's office. While Rory got off scot free, Amy was suspended for two whole days. She wouldn't be cowed though. She'd gotten in trouble defending the Doctor, and she couldn't regret that.
Wordlessly, the Doctor pulled seventeen-year-old Amy away and back to the TARDIS. "What happened next?" he asked once they were safely inside.
"I stayed home for two days and did my best to avoid Aunt Sharon."
"Why?" asked the Doctor, instantly on alert.
"She wasn't pleased, to say the least. During those two days, she found a new shrink to take me to, as she felt that the first had been too soft. Apparently, I needed a firmer hand to snap me out of my delusions."
The Doctor just nodded, too much in shock to give more of a response. Wordlessly, he plugged in the next coordinates, almost dreading where they would end up.
This time, Amy was ten years old. It was nighttime when the Doctor and present-day Amy arrived. Carefully, they snuck up to the kitchen window. Amy winced as she realized what was or would happen, and what the Doctor would see.
Ten-year-old Amy was sitting by herself at the kitchen table, a bowl of fish fingers and custard in front of her. However, she was merely pushing the food around, and not actually eating anything. The clock on the wall said it was eleven o'clock.
"It's late," the Doctor remarked. "What were you doing up?"
"Waiting for Aunt Sharon," whispered Amy. "She would stay out late and I'd get worried. Hence the fish fingers and custard – they soothed me."
The Doctor didn't have to ask why – they both knew it was because that was what he ate the first time they met.
At that moment, a woman came stumbling through the door. "Aunt Sharon," called Amy, jumping up from her seat and rushing to her aid.
Aunt Sharon, however, shoved her into the edge of a nearby cabinet, causing Amy to land awkwardly on her side. She kept silent, though, and got right back up.
That's gonna bruise, thought Amy wryly. (And it would. For many days to come. But Amy never once lost faith in the Doctor or gave up hope that he would come for her).
"Aunt Sharon," Amy tried again. "It's late. Are you alright?"
"I don't have to answer to you, kid," she said gruffly. She pushed Amy away again, who, this time, managed to stay on her feet.
"Aunt Sharon, please," Amy cajoled.
Her aunt's response was to strike Amy – landing a blow near her eye – who emitted a cry of pain. Aunt Sharon advanced on Amy. She grabbed her arms tightly and began to shake her. "Why am I the one stuck with you? Why'd your good-for-nothing parents have to unload you on me? I never wanted kids, can't stand 'em. So why am I the one to end up with you?"
By now, Amy was sobbing, tears rolling down her cheeks and off the point of her chin.
"You little freak – believing in a Doctor that doesn't and will never exist—"
"You're wrong," said Amy suddenly. "He does exist and he will come back for me – I know it."
Talking back was apparently not permitted, for Aunt Sharon struck Amy again. "Go to your room. You are grounded."
"Fine." Amy stormed away. Muttering to herself, she said, "It's not like there's anything for me to do in this town anyway, considering I don't have any friends. Oh, Doctor . . . Please save me," she whispered, before she shut the door to her room and no more could be heard.
Back inside the TARDIS, Amy was becoming concerned for the Doctor's state of mind. At the rate he was going, he would burn himself out. "Why do you persist in torturing yourself, Doctor?" asked Amy, after what seemed to be the millionth trip to visit her past. She carefully approached the Doctor, who was hunched over the TARDIS' controls, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He was quick to shrug it off, though.
"Don't," he warned. "I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. How can you stand being near me after all you've suffered – because of me?"
"Doctor, I made my choice ten years ago. I could easily have denied you and said that I made everything up – but I didn't. Do you know why?"
When the Doctor remained obstinately silent, Amy went on, "It's because you were my friend. And I would never deny my friends anything – certainly not their existence."
"Oh, God," the Doctor moaned, arms wrapped protectively around his abdomen as he sank to his knees.
"Doctor!" Amy exclaimed in alarm at the sight of her Doctor suddenly collapsing. She went to him, guiding his head to rest in her lap and beginning to card her fingers through his hair. Though initially flinching at her touch, the Doctor soon relaxed and began to enjoy the strangely soothing sensation.
"Seen enough?" asked Amy at last.
"No," the Doctor whispered regretfully. He hated that Amy was being forced to relive some of her worst memories, but he had to see this through until the end – he had to finish watching her grow up. Only then would he feel that he'd paid his due for making her wait.
Amy nodded as though she'd expected his answer. "Very well," she sighed.
Helping him up, she remained in his arms for longer than was strictly necessary before finally releasing him. The Doctor made his way over to the control panel of the TARDIS, once more refusing to meet her eyes as he prepared them for their next trip. They revisited many more moments in the life of Amy Pond, ending up at the day before he and present-day Amy reconnected.
He watched as Amy of the-day-before sat doggedly outside, refusing to budge even at the insistence of her aunt and at the biting cold. The Doctor's acute senses picked up on the fact that Amy was beginning to lose hope in his ever returning. Thank God I came when I did, he thought to himself. He looked on as Amy alternated between hitting him and crying. He perceived her as being immensely relieved to see him, yet at the same time afraid to trust in what she was presented with.
The poor girl . . .
Back inside the TARDIS, the Doctor drew Amy into his arms, both taking comfort in the other's presence.
"Feel better?" Amy inquired.
"Not yet," said the Doctor ruefully, though recognizing that it was his own fault. "But I'll get there, eventually."
"Well, in the mean time, Doctor, remember – I'm right beside you. For every step you take, so do I."
"Thank you, Amy. I appreciate it – truly."
"Everything's going to be fine, Doctor," said Amy by way of replying.
And though the Doctor supposed she could be lying – perhaps to repay him for his having said the exact same words to her ten years before – he believed her, just as she had always believed in him.
They would make it – together, as they had always been destined to be.
Roughly three years had passed since the Doctor's abrupt re-entry into Amy Pond's life. Three glorious years in which they had seen and done so many great and terrible things. No matter when or where they were, though, the Doctor always made a point of celebrating Amy's birthday, so that she would never forget how fleeting time was – or so he said. Amy's opinion was that he just liked an excuse to spoil her and to make up for his previous absence in her life.
Following the Doctor's insistence that they go back in time to watch her grow up – masochist, Amy thought to herself – they began to slowly recover, together. It was many months, though, before Amy was comfortable in being alone. She constantly required the Doctor's presence. Even if they didn't say a word, just knowing that he was in the same room set her mind at rest. Though Amy was sure that her behavior must have been tiring to the Doctor, he never complained. And during the night, he could frequently be found holding her close and comforting her after some nightmare. Surprisingly, these dreams were always about him leaving her, and not – as he'd initially suspected – about whatever supernatural horrors she'd seen or had experienced. This fact, alone, told him of the powerful affect he had on her and how detrimental a separation would be.
It was currently Amy's 20th birthday, and the Doctor had gone all out. The TARDIS was decorated to the nines, and the wardrobe had provided Amy with a fantastic dress – one she never would have been able to afford in her old life.
Amy always refused presents, saying that traveling with the Doctor through all of time and space was enough for her. She allowed him to bake a cake for her, though, and every year, when she blew out the candles, she wished for the same thing: that the Doctor would love her back. So far, though, he only seemed to view her as a friend, one of his many companions that would leave or be left in the end.
Little did Amy know of what the Doctor had in store for her . . .
"Everything ready, girl?" asked the Doctor.
The TARDIS hummed an affirmative.
"That's the spirit," he said, briefly patting her before dashing off. He was going to do it. Finally, after three torturously long years, he was going to tell Amy Pond that he loved her! The road to recovery had been long and arduous, for both had to first heal from the past. But now, the Doctor felt that they were both ready to face the future head on. "It's time," he whispered to himself.
"Time for what, Doctor?" asked Amy as she descended.
The Doctor was left speechless, mouth agape, at the sight of her. Amy was wearing a maroon-colored strapless floor-length ball gown – an intricate design around the bodice, as well as mid-length down the skirt – with a shawl to match, while her hair was piled on top of her head in a fancy up-do.
"Amy, you look beautiful," he stammered, nervous all of a sudden.
"Time for what, Doctor?" repeated Amy, though she smiled and nodded her head in acknowledgement of his compliment.
"Time to . . . wish you a "Happy Birthday", of course," he exclaimed.
Rushing to meet her at the bottom of the stairs, he extended his hand for her to take, guiding her down the final steps. Standing before her, he took her hands in his – suppressing a shudder at the contact and how much control it took for him not to ravage her on sight – and said softly, "Close your eyes. No peeking."
Amy had been with the Doctor long enough to know that he wouldn't offer an explanation until he was ready, so she did as he asked without questioning his motives. Arms outstretched, hands firmly encased in the Doctor's sure and steady ones, Amy followed blindly – as she would for all of eternity. "Can I look?" she asked. After all, patience had never been one of her strongest suits.
"Not yet," the Doctor sing-songed.
Amy sighed and shook her head in exasperation, though, secretly, she was pleased with the effort the Doctor had put into making this birthday special.
"Alright – now!" said the Doctor, releasing her hands and moving to stand behind her, all in one smooth motion.
Amy stood stock still, staring in amazement at the spread laid out before her. When she'd first moved into the TARDIS, she hadn't expected for the Doctor to be such a remarkable cook – a talent, so he said, that none of his previous forms had ever been able to master.
There was a variety of food and drink, all Amy's favorites: fruit salad, corn on the cob, artichokes, chicken, turkey, mashed potatoes, yams, iced tea, fruit punch, soda and, of course, fish fingers and custard - but the pièce de résistance was the cake, set directly in the center of the table and around which everything else was situated.
"Doctor, this is exquisite," Amy breathed. "I think you've topped yourself in celebrating my birthday. This is going to be tough to beat. Unless . . . This doesn't mean you're sending me back to Earth, does it?"
"No – far from it!" exclaimed the Doctor, quickly assuring her that just the opposite was true. "I'd like nothing more than for you to stay with me – always."
"Well, I don't plan on leaving any time soon," replied Amy, smiling shyly up at him.
As silence reigned, the Doctor suddenly spoke up, asking, "How about something to eat?"
Startled from her trance, Amy nodded demurely, and the Doctor hurried to pull out her chair for her. "Thank you, Doctor," she murmured, and both could tell she was referring to more than just her chair.
"You are most welcome, Amy Pond," said the Doctor, bringing one of her hands to his lips and – ever the gentleman – kissing the knuckles as though he were a knight of old and she a fair maiden. "Now, enjoy!" he commanded jovially.
Laughter soon filled the TARDIS as the two dug in to the wonderful meal the Doctor had prepared, sharing stories and joking about as two friends are wont to do. However, a certain amount of tension seemed to permeate the room – both Amy and the Doctor seemed to be anticipating the evening's close.
"And now, my dear," began the Doctor pompously, forcing Amy to stifle a laugh, "comes a personal triumph – your birthday cake." And he presented her with a marvelous single-layered cake with blue frosting, pearls seemingly stitched along the sides, and fondant flowers centered on top.
"It's breathtaking – truly, it is," she whispered, overcome. Pushing her chair back, she rose to her feet and threw her arms around the Doctor, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Thank you for making this the best birthday I've ever had."
The Doctor smiled at hearing that. Just you wait, Amy Pond, he thought. The best is yet to come. "Why don't you blow out the candles?" he suggested.
Amy turned back to the table, bent over, and – eyes closed – blew with all her might. And, for the first time ever, all the candles were out when next she looked. "I did it!" she exclaimed. "I actually blew them all out." She clapped her hands together like a little kid.
"Congratulations," said the Doctor from his position at her elbow. Snapping his fingers, the lights inside the TARDIS suddenly dimmed, and music began to play from all around them. "Care to dance?" he asked, bowing from the waist down and extending a hand – the decision, as always, being left up to Amy.
"I'd love to," she said. Was there ever any doubt as to her accepting him?
They twirled around the TARDIS for some time, before – with another snap of the Doctor's fingers – the song changed again.
"Listen," the Doctor urged her. So Amy did, and this is what she heard:
There's a calm surrender to the rush of day
When the heat of a rolling wind can be turned away
An enchanted moment and it sees me through
It's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you
And can you feel the love tonight?
It is where we are
It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer
That we got this far
And can you feel the love tonight,
How it's to laid to rest?
It's enough to make kings and vagabonds
Believe the very best
There's a time for everyone
If they only learn
That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn
There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors
When the heart of this star-crossed voyager
Beats in time with yours
And can you feel the love tonight?
It is where we are
It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer
That we got this far
And can you feel the love tonight,
How it's laid to rest?
It's enough to make kings and vagabonds
Believe the very best
It's enough to make kings and vagabonds
Believe the very best
Amy had her head resting on the Doctor's shoulder – her arms wrapped around his neck, his own situated around her waist – so it didn't take him long to realize that she was crying. "What's wrong, Amy?" he asked, pulling away to take a closer look at his companion.
"Th-the song," she stuttered. "It was beautiful. But why would the TARDIS play that?"
"Simple – because I asked her to," said the Doctor.
"But why?" asked Amy persistently. "You've done nothing but refuse my advances, time and time again. What changed?"
"Oh, my darling," the Doctor chuckled, drawing her closer. "My sweet, precious darling – that was because neither of us could have handled being in a relationship – we were both still healing from our pasts. But I think that three years has been a long enough wait. So I planned this whole evening around telling you how I felt."
"You mean it, Doctor? You love me?" Amy couldn't believe it – her dream was coming true!
"I was never more serious in my life," the Doctor declared emphatically.
Amy could do no more than exclaim, "Oh!" and wrap her arms tightly around the Doctor, squeezing for all she was worth. "I love you too, Doctor," she whispered, "So, so much!"
Hands gripping her arms in an effort to remain grounded, the Doctor – mindful of Amy's hairdo – lay his head on hers, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, and something else . . . something that was distinctly Amy. "I love you, Amelia Jessica Pond," he said, grateful that her head was currently buried in his chest. However much he loved her, he wasn't sure he'd be able to say what he wanted if they were facing each other. "And, because I love you, I'm going to give you a choice regarding both your future and mine."
That caught her attention. "What do you mean?" she asked him, perplexed.
"Amy, I have a machine that can either turn me human, or make you become like me. Which would you prefer – having me turn human and living out our lives together on Earth, or you becoming like me and continuing as we have been?"
"Doctor," said Amy, being sure to meet his gaze to convince him of her sincerity, "I could never go back to the way life was before I met you – or even the in-between years, while I was waiting for you to come back for me. Being human is boring – I would never choose that for you. Rather, I want to become like you and continue to explore other galaxies – both past, present, and future. That way, I'll be safe on our adventures, what with the ability to regenerate, and you won't have to worry about me and put yourself at risk for my sake."
"You're sure?" asked the Doctor, searching her eyes for the slightest hint of hesitation.
"Positive," said Amy. "I can think of no better birthday present than to become like you. And neither of us will have to worry about being alone, ever again, for we'll have each other."
"We would never have to be parted," the Doctor whispered, pressing Amy as close as was possible.
Amy did her best to impart all the love and courage she possessed into that one hug. "Change me now, Doctor," Amy pleaded.
"Amy, the process hurts. Do you really want to go through that on your birthday night?"
"No time like the present, Doctor," said Amy encouragingly. "Please?"
Her puppy-dog eyes will be my undoing, thought the Doctor grimly. I can never resist her when she begs. "Alright, fine," he groaned in exasperation, while Amy leapt for joy.
"Thank you, Doctor," she squealed, clasping her hands firmly around his middle in an exuberant embrace.
The Doctor retrieved the headpiece that would initiate the transformation. "Now, this goes on like that," he muttered to himself, making adjustments as he went along. "There, that should do it," he said. Making his way to stand in front of Amy – still in her red gown from before – he spoke, "You don't have to do this, Amy."
"Do you not want me to be like you?" she asked, affronted.
"Of course I do. I love you and want to be with you forever, and this is the only way for that to become a reality."
"Then what's the problem, Doctor?"
"I don't like the thought of you in pain," he admitted, glancing down at his shoes.
"Doctor, you said yourself that this is the only way. I'm not a sucker for pain – not by any means. But if a little pain ensures that we will always be together, then I'm willing to pay that price – alright?"
The Doctor nodded once. "Let's get started, then," he said.
Listen, Pond, said the little voice inside Amy's head as the Doctor walked to the control panel. You heard the Doctor just now. Apparently, what you're about to go through hurts, and he doesn't like to think of you in pain, much less see it. Don't let him. Don't make so much as a whimper, and everyone will be happy in the end. Get it?
Got it, Amy thought.
Good.
Then, all at once, there was a flash of light – electricity, Amy later found out – and her body was convulsing due to the shock waves being emitted. Then, just as suddenly, it was all over. The Doctor was there, removing the headpiece, and taking Amy into his arms.
"Oh, my sweet, brave, wonderful girl – my mad, impossible Amy Pond – you were positively brilliant," he murmured reassuringly in her ears.
"Is that it?" she whispered, finding her voice at last.
"That's all there is to it – you are now a Time Lady, like me." He darted away, but soon returned with a stethoscope. "Here, listen," he said, offering it to her. She inserted the tubes into her ears and the Doctor moved the disc over both sides of her chest, revealing that she now had two hearts.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
"I never heard a sound so beautiful," Amy murmured in awe.
"I have." Amy looked at the Doctor quizzically. "When you say you love me," the Doctor clarified.
"I love you, Doctor," said Amy instinctively.
"As I love you," the Doctor replied, a note of finality in his voice. With that, he placed both hands on Amy's face – one on either cheek – and brought their lips together.
Why did I wait so long to do this? thought the Doctor.
Oh, my! This is even better than I imagined, thought Amy to herself.
The Doctor's hands were cupping Amy's face, twisting in her hair. Any bobby pins he found were soon discarded and scattered across the floor, her hair now hanging loose. Meanwhile, Amy's hands were clutching at the Doctor, pulling desperately at his hair. As tongues began battling for dominance, the Doctor swept Amy off her feet and carried her up the spiral staircase and into his bedroom.
"Doctor . . ." moaned Amy, and with that, the door slammed shut after them.
The TARDIS gave a contented hum – her work was now done.
Links -
Dress: www (dot) dressdress (dot) net/components/com_virtuemart/shop_image/product/2224_Trendy_Form_
Cake: www (dot) wilton (dot) com (slash) ims (slash) image (dot) cfm?id=B6CA4DAC-1E0B-C910-EA7A9EAA51F2C9CD&view=large