Back inside TARDIS, the Doctor and Amy situated themselves on a very roomy couch – the Doctor's arm securely wrapped around Amy while her head rested on his shoulder, both pressed as close to the other as possible – in preparation for an in-depth discussion as to what had happened down in the war room, as well as why the Doctor had felt it necessary to confront the Daleks alone, leaving Amy behind.
For the moment, though, they were content to remain in each other's arms – thoughts of saving the world all but vanished, for the time being.
However, all good things must come to an end, and, in typical Amy fashion, she spoke first, asking, "Why did you leave me?"
"Amy," pleaded the Doctor. "Try to understand . . . if something happened to you, and I'd done nothing to prevent it, I couldn't live with myself – in whatever form I took. That's why, when the Daleks gave me their ultimatum of either saving Earth or destroying them, I raced back here – it was for you, Amy, all of it. If you'd come along, the Daleks might have used your presence to get to me. I needed you to stay where you were, not just to ensure your safety, but to give me a reason for coming back at all. You mean everything to me, Amelia Jessica Pond, and I couldn't have born it had you been harmed because of me."
The Doctor bowed his head to hide the tears threatening to fall. Amy was perceptive, though, and ducked down to be at eye-level, catching a stray tear in the process.
"Thank you," she whispered. "While I don't agree with all that you just mentioned – for one thing, not only am I perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but, if I were to go, I'd rather be with you – I'm flattered that you think so highly of me. And for the record, you are very important to me too."
With that, she pressed a kiss to the wet and salty trail the solitary tear had left along his cheek.
The Doctor could barely breathe. Having Amy so close – and kissing his cheek, no less – was wrecking havoc on the self-control he'd sworn to maintain with his companions.
"A-Amy," he stuttered, gasping for air. "I . . . n-need—"
"What do you need, Doctor?" asked Amy. And, if he hadn't known better, he could have sworn that she was trying to seduce him.
Amy shifted her body so that she was perched on his lap. As she bent over him, she purred, "Is this what you need, Doctor?" before attacking his lips.
Though initially responsive, the Doctor soon stilled under Amy's . . . ministrations.
Realizing that she'd lost his interest, Amy quickly retreated to the opposite end of the couch. "I waited fourteen years for you, Doctor," she said. Her tone was part-accusatory, part-anger, and part-hurt. "All the time I was with Rory, I dreamed of being with you. I'd built you up inside my head as this wonderful guy – the classic action hero – and then when you came back, you were even better than I'd imagined. I've loved you since I was a little girl, and I need to know – what happened down in the war room? Was it an accident, something you'd like to forget? Or did it actually mean something to you? 'Cause it sure meant something to me."
"Oh, Amy," whispered the Doctor, as full understanding for what he'd put her through dawned. "Come here."
Powerless to resist his magnetic pull, Amy obeyed, crawling forward on her hands and knees until she was again positioned by the Doctor's side.
In response, the Doctor wrapped an arm around her, effectively pinning her against him.
"Of course it meant something to me," he said, overcome by an emotion that was still foreign to him. "Didn't I just get through saying that you mean everything to me – that you are, in fact, more important than the whole of humanity? So, of course our kiss . . . It wasn't just some spur of the moment thing, or an accident that I'd like to forget – I swear. In fact, I'd like nothing better than to keep on doing what we were doing."
"Really?" asked Amy, a note of hope entering her voice that broke each of the Doctor's hearts.
She's had so few people to rely on, he realized. And I probably hurt her more than all the rest combined.
"Really, really," he said, smiling down at the spit-fire in his arms.
Amy brought her head to rest on the Doctor's chest, listening to the reassuring thump-thump of his hearts.
"I think I'd like that," said Amy, smiling shyly up at the Doctor.
"Well, in that case . . ." he said, voice trailing off suggestively as he swept her up in his arms and carried her off to his bedroom.
Amy had spent years calling out to the Doctor in her sleep. Now, though, when she called his name, she was very much awake . . .
