A/N: I'm so sorry it's been so long! I've just lost my fanfic writing mojo recently and I didn't know what to post, really.
This is just a series of thoughts I had whilst re-watching 'Amy's Choice'; I've decided I can't hide the love I have for this ship any longer. I'm considering writing a short sequel to this, or something. I really like this ship.
I dedicate this to Costanza (makesmelosecontrol on tumblr), who is responsible for the my reigniting my love for this couple.
Enjoy!
"I'd blush... if I had any blood supply. Or a real face."
Amy opens her mouth to argue but finds no words and she can feel Rory's hurt gaze on her; surely he must know, surely he must have guessed but all the same she can almost feel the twinge in his heart. But it's not like she can help her dreams; she's allowed to feel bad about doing it consciously, but her subconscious she has no control over and it's not fair to be blamed for that.
The Doctor steps forward and she's known him long enough to know when he's happy, or even proud; there's a sudden confusion swirling in her. She wants to know why the fact that he so often stars in her fantasies makes him have to hide a smile; but there's something else. It's like The Doctor recognises her defensiveness over how she cannot help what she dreams about and it's like back off; he steps forward and changes the subject, getting the spotlight off of her, making it all the harder to keep her decision.
"Leave her alone."
He'd encountered many villains who were just despicable before, who just seemed to want to toy with his temper for the sake of it...
To scare her, sir... for fun sir...
...but this man was pushing The Doctor to the brink. Because he knew that toying with Amy was the same as toying with him; because The Doctor had graciously accepted that Amy and Rory were Amy and Rory and that The Doctor didn't get married, didn't get a happy ending, not like that. He knew Amy dreamt about him, he'd heard her for goodness' sake. The first night she stayed, he heard he shouting his name; he rushed to her room, "Amy! Amy, what's wrong?"
He bursts in and she's asleep, her nightgown sticking to her slightly and her hair is messy and sweaty like the rest of her skin.
"Doctor," she rasps again, her hand curling into a fist as clutches at the pillow. He hears the way she rolls her 'r's (The way she's kept that stubborn Scottish accent all those years) and sees the way her chest raises with each gasp. He's mesmerised; her body is almost contorting in how much pleasure she seems to be in and The Doctor drinks it all in. Suddenly she's still and he's scared for a split second that she's about to wake up, but she just rolls onto her side, her cascade of red hair falling into her face.
The Doctor approaches her cautiously and smoothes it away; he wonders how many of these dreams she'd had, and he can almost picture her waking sitting up, gasping in her bedroom. He sees her hugging herself and rubbing her arms and the guilt overwhelms him; why did he crash in her garden, why did he have to haunt her so, why... why... why...
"Doctor," she sighs, snapping him out of his thoughts. He realises he hasn't taken his hand away yet but that he doesn't particularly want to.
"Amy Pond," he whispers into her hair, "the girl who waited. All night in your garden; why?"
His voice is full of hate as he says, "Leave her alone," to the Dreamlord and he's never meant it more before. This is Amy, his Amy and no-one touches her, no-one harms her, no-one can have her. Except for him.
"Love's a redhead, our naughty Doctor."
"Drop it, drop all of it. I know who you are," he says. He doesn't want to lose his cool but he doesn't want Amy to know that; he doesn't want Amy to get the wrong idea about why he picked her. Not because she's ginger, not because she's the most gorgeous human he's seen for a long time, none of those reasons. He chose her for other reasons, however attracted to her he may be. He steals a glance at her and swells with pride; he chose her because in the face of danger, she can mask her fear and stand defiantly even with a baby in her belly.
It's the fact that the only reason they're in the mess is because of him, because she came with him, but she hasn't complained, she hasn't blamed him at all. And it's just nice, because he's blamed himself for so much for so long but she continues to put her faith in him.
"Yeah but are we disagreeing or competing?"
"Competing? Over what?"
They just look at her, because The Doctor knows that it's hopeless to try and disguise it at this point; he wants to be right and he doesn't want the village to be the dream. He doesn't want to believe that Amy would ever leave him because he wants her with him forever, or for as long as she can live; he wants her. Just her. So he wants to impress her; because maybe if she's impressed enough she'll forget the village that time forgot and stay with him.
It's the way that in the face of death she jokes around about ponchos and Peruvian folk bands...
"Now," The Dreamlord is behind her, crouched in between Rory and The Doctor, "which one of these men would you really choose? Look at them."
Amy doesn't like where this is going.
"You ran away with a handsome hero..."
He's more than that. He's so much more than just 'handsome' and heroic: he's kind and thoughtful and protective and wise but he's very, very sad too. He helps even though he says he won't; he leaves but he always comes back eventually; he's 900 years old but still acts like a child sometimes...
"...would you really give him for a bumbling, country doctor who thinks the only thing he needs to be interesting is a ponytail?"
"Stop it!" she says, because deep down she doesn't see why she has to choose at all. Why can't she have them both?
"Or maybe it's better than loving and losing The Doctor?"
How do you know? Why do you care? What do you want from me?
"Pick a world, and this nightmare will all be over."
Amy would like to believe it was that simple.
It's the way she can make him want another man come back to life, even if it means that he can't have her; the way she mumbles 'Come back' so dazedly at a pile of dust; the way she looks up at him and says 'Save him' so simply, so trustfully. She believes in him... until she doesn't.
"You save everyone. You always do."
"Not always." Her face is disbelieving, almost smiling; she disappointed. He looks away, he can't bear it. "Sorry."
"Then what is the point of you?" Her voice is raw and angry now. Full of hatred for him.
Her hand reaches into the pile, digging into the Rory dust and he instinctively comes closer, wanting to reach out to her, wanting to comfort her. His hand touches her back and she says it.
"This is the dream."
It's the way she storms out the house and gets angry at the fact that they're not attacking; it's the fact that he's mildly scared of her. Amy Pond is the creature that can frighten the oncoming storm, which is quite a feat.
It's the way that even as she's saying that she only wants Rory, his heart swells with how beautiful she is, how the sunlight hits her hair so nicely, how she wears bravery like it's her own skin. She's glowing. She glows; Amy Pond is magnificent.
There are tears drying on her cheeks as she smiles slightly at him and takes the keys of the van. The Doctor squeezes her hand and says, "Okay," very quietly.
She's his best friend.
The Doctor turns sadly to look at The Dreamlord outside, who just stands there. He knew this would happen and so did The Doctor: they both know she would truly pick Rory in the end.
But it still hurts.
The Doctor bites his lips and says nothing.
Amy opens her eyes and searches for him, wanting to know if it was all in vain. Oh God, what if she killed both she and The Doctor, what if that was the real world...
A frost hand squeezes hers, rough with the ice. She knows it'll all be okay.
The Doctor pretends not to care, gives himself one last chance to smell her hair before he pushes her away towards Rory; he acts as if he doesn't see their heart-to-heart, as if he's not paying attention.
He almost convinces himself: he doesn't wish he was Rory kissing Amy, he doesn't care that they're having a moment.
The Dreamlord smirking at him in the glass knows better.