Amy was standing tall and motionless as the pouring rain beat her anguished face. It was a never-ending downpour and the wind only ceased long enough to gather its strength anew. Passers-by were few and far between, their pace brisk in their haste for shelter. They never noticed her, the sad lady from town square with her arm held up as if imploring the sky for a moment of clement weather.
The agonizing monotony was sometimes broken by the snails attempting their ascent up her calf. She was incensed by the touch of their smarmy body sliding across her skin, leaving slimy trails for the rain to wash away, but she couldn't shudder. She couldn't scream. She couldn't do a thing but feel, her body stone-cold yet alive from her toes to the tip of her wings.
"Amy."
Doctor. Her Doctor. She would know that voice anywhere. The sound warmed her inside out, a brilliant ray of hope at the end of the darkest of tunnels. But what if he was too late? She had waited so long.
"Amy, listen carefully. It's only a dream. You were bit by a deimos. None of it is real."
She could feel him now, his long fingers brushing her frigid skin, up and down her bare arms, her legs, her neck, searching, probing.
If her body crumbled under his touch, would she lose consciousness or turn into sentient dust?
"Ah, gotcha," he exclaimed triumphantly, brushing her hair away. The familiar sound of the sonic screwdriver buzzed, loud and close. Moments later, his hands ripped something off from behind her ear.
"You're okay. Everything's okay. It's over. I promise."
/\/\/\
"How long was I out?" Amy couldn't stop flexing her fingers and toes; it felt so good to move again.
"Two minutes, maybe three. How long did it feel?"
Decades. All my life.
"Longer than two minutes," she said, twisting to get a better look at the thing he was holding between his thumb and index finger. It looked like a lumpy grey leech, ugly but innocuous.
"Is it dead?" she asked hopefully.
"Only knocked out."
He put the creature down on the grass, as far away from Amy as he could without leaving her side.
"Unpleasant little things, deimoses. They feed on their host's dread. Their venom has paralyzing and hallucinatory properties. It's greatly effective. They invoke your worst nightmare and lock you in it until they've had their fill. They're greedy, too, if memory serves."
"This one must have a very full stomach right now."
"Do you want to talk about it? Your nightmare?"
"If you'll tell me about yours first," Amy countered, knowing it was a dare he would never accept.
"Let's go back to the TARDIS," the Doctor said abruptly. "This day could still be salvaged."
"Only if you take me somewhere dry, warm and completely snail-free."
The Doctor paused and turned. "Oh, Amy Pond," he said, his sudden smile shining right through her, "I know just the right place."