CHAPTER NINE
Two weeks later, some sort of night-time.
Night in the TARDIS was never exact, it was never a particular moment. What is time, when you're in a Time Machine? Nothing.
So they called it night when they were sleepy, day when they were awake. Well, Amy did. And so did Rory, when he was- was here.
Amy and the Doctor had spent the day together, on some futuristic city-planet, eaten dinner in a restaurant at the top of a tower, overlooking all the glistening lights, the sparkling sights. She had been happy again. But all the while, there was something missing. Maybe there always would be.
She had been sleeping for several hours now, mind addled with dazed, floaty dreams: Rory in front of her, reaching out his arms, her stretching out towards him. But every time it happened, he'd disappear floating into ash, carried on the wind. Then The Doctor would be standing there, in his place. "I'm sorry," he'd whisper, "I'm so sorry."
And she'd cry, and stare into his eyes, and they'd be true, so true. And she'd feel something, but it would disappear every time she thought about it too directly, always appearing as soon as she saw his eyes, and always leaving again.
When they got back to the TARDIS after dinner that night, the Doctor had said it was time to sleep, but did he even sleep? Amy couldn't picture him sleeping. How would he sleep? Slumped on his front, curled on his side? What would he wear? She couldn't even picture him in pyjamas.
With a jolt, she realised she was wearing the same night gown she had ran away with him in. She stared down at the white fabric, floating around her legs, and nearly fell down the glass stairs. Grabbing onto the railing, she saw the Doctor, still spinning 1around the TARDIS console, the way he always does: ducking and wheeling, clumsily graceful.
He looked up. "Hello, Amelia," he smiled. It was a sad smile, though: kind, but kind of worried. Nervous.
"Hi."
They stared at each other for a moment, a midnight blue, star covered moment. It sparkled like diamonds, was velvety as the darkness of space.
It disappeared in a second, and suddenly Amy was wondering if it had even happened. She walked the rest of the way down the steps now, and was standing on the glass floor, a pale apparition, sadness in her eyes, a strange smile on her lips. "Doctor, do you sleep?"
"Do I ever sleep?"
"Yeah."
"I … of course I do." he smiled.
She smiled back.
They stood then, for a long moment, until at last, the Doctor turned away, and began moving one little lever up and down, faster and faster. He reached for another small knob just as she spoke.
"I miss him."
"I know you do." He turned around, slowly.
"I miss him so much." Her voice cracked, and she was crying. "I don't even know. I don't know what to do. Or say. Or even think. I love him. But- but I just-"
He walked in a hurried, half-waddling sort of way, embracing her head, patting it. She looked up, stepping back a tiny bit. "Rory, I'm sorry," she whispered, as though speaking to herself, before leaning forwards and kissing the Doctor full on the lips, pushing him back against the console, tears still flowing. A moment like velvet, embroidered with silver. Silver and gold.
It ended just like the last one, dropped carelessly, accidentally shattered. The Doctor grabbed Amy's arms, which were currently in his hair. "Stop. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I love you. But we can't."
"Why? Her voice was choked. Doing this had been important to her. Big. It mattered.
"Think. Please."
"Rory's gone. I know he's gone. He won't come back, and I'm so sorry. But I just-" she pushed back a fibre of hair, caught in hear tears, stuck to her cheek, before breaking down again.
"We can't. River is your daughter, and ..."
"Yes, she is. But why you too? How, it just, I- ... can't you notice? The Doctor and Amy Pond."
"I love you. But this is mad. I don't even now how I love you. I'm hundreds of years, and I just- just-" he cut himself off, walking forwards to hug her, releasing her again quickly. "Goodnight."
She stumbled up the stairs, pausing at the top, clinging to the banister.
"I'm sorry."
They both said it at the same time, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.
She turned and walked down the corridor, slowly.
Back in the console room, the Doctor turned back to the TARDIS, but instead of continuing, he walked past it, and fell into the small chair by the side. Pulling his legs up, he lay like a child, though he was the oldest and saddest of them all.
