Sorry it's taken me so long to update, guys. I recently finished my novel and am now going back and editing it, and have to add a few more scenes to get it up to 60,000 words. So basically I have to put this on the shelf on occasion. And besides that I've been pretty busy. I'll be going to Florida on vacation next week, so please bear with me during that time.
By the way, who saw the Girl Who Waited? I just have to say amazing acting on Karen Gillan's part, as well as Matt and Arthur. And I do rather like the Doctor's new coat :D
Please review!
Amy's recovery was gradual yet steady over the next several days, as her body worked hard to repair bones and tissue alike. The Doctor's life-giving breath seemed to have had some kind of effect on her healing process, speeding it up a little so that it took weeks instead of months. River checked in often to make sure the Doctor was behaving himself, usually bringing Ian, Jenna and August with her. The children were delighted to see their mother alive, especially August, who had a greedy tummy to satisfy. They stayed until Amy started to grow weary again—something she tried to hide even though her many watchers were far too observant for it to work—and then River would whisk them away, leaving the Doctor to hold her while she drifted off to sleep. She generally slept deeper when he was nearby.
Freya came to visit on occasion as well, mixing up balms with ingredients she found around the palace to apply to Amy's many bruises and cuts. As a result of the dwarf's careful attention, the bruise that had once spanned half of her face was starting to fade, taking on the yellow hue that meant it would soon turn back to her natural skin color.
The doctors who tended to the patients in the infirmary—and anyone else who tried—soon found it impossible to separate the Doctor from their redheaded charge. At first they tried to establish a visiting period, in hopes of allowing Amy more time to sleep, but this proved counterproductive considering she would stubbornly remain wide awake when he wasn't there. Not to mention they usually ended up conversing mentally anyway, even when the Doctor was on the other side of the palace. Eventually they gave up, and although they were reluctant to admit it, it was noted that she improved quicker when he was right by her side.
"What are you wearing?" Amy asked incredulously one day when the Doctor came waltzing into her cubicle after one of his very rare—and very short—absences.
The Doctor grinned and spun on the spot, the olive-green military-style coat he had on in place of his tweed jacket spinning with him. "Thought I'd switch it up a bit," he replied cheerfully, not mentioning that putting on a new tweed jacket would only refresh the memory of exactly how the old one had been ruined. He'd decided to wait a little while before going back to it. "What do you think?"
"I think you still look like an idiot," Amy said critically. Regardless, a smile soon crept onto her lips. "My idiot."
"Thanks…I suppose." The Doctor paused by the foot of her bed, trying to get a good view of his new accessory in the overshined brass knob on one of the posts.
Personally, however, I wouldn't mind too terribly if you took it all off, Amy thought to him, roguishness lacing her words.
The Doctor's head shot up. "Well aren't you a naughty girl. You must be feeling better," he said, his eyes twinkling as he moved towards her.
"It has been a while," Amy responded beguilingly.
The Doctor took off his coat, draping it over the back of the nearby chair, and laid next to her on top of the blanket instead of under it with her. Trapping her head between his arms, he leaned down and kissed her gently.
"You and I both know you're still not well enough for that," he murmured.
Amy was not to be dissuaded just yet. She crooned his Gallifreyan name to him in the softest, most enticing tone she could muster, infusing it with the longing she was feeling. A groan echoed in the back of the Doctor's throat, but he managed to control himself, his lips lightly brushing against the tip of her nose.
"Soon, Pond, but not now. Not until you're mostly mended," he told her in his language, tracing his finger down her chin.
Amy pouted in disappointment. "Being an invalid is no fun at all," she complained, switching from English as well.
"Now now, none of that talk," the Doctor ordered, pressing two fingers against the rose-flush pucker of her lips. "We could play a game."
"How about spin the bottle?" Amy suggested, grabbing his collar with the hand that wasn't in a brace and kissing him.
"I mean it, Amelia."
Amy sighed. His warnings sounded even more serious in Gallifreyan. "Fine. Your pick."
Excited by this prospect, the Doctor galloped off. He returned a few minutes later with a deck of cards and proceeded to teach her the rules of a card game that had once been all the rage amongst the Time Lords. At first Amy was skeptical, but she got into it almost immediately, and by the time the Doctor told her they needed to stop so she could get some rest she was protesting quite emphatically. Eventually he got her to calm down—there was quite a bit of snogging involved—after which her exhausted body quickly forced her into a heavy, repairing sleep. The Doctor smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead before slipping off to find Freya.
"How's your wife doing?" Freya asked concernedly when the Doctor approached her. She'd adapted to Anavrinian life rather well in the short time she'd been there, even wearing their fashions and doing her hair in the same way as the court women.
"She's improving rapidly. Your balms have been a great help," the Doctor answered.
Freya smiled. "I like to do what I can," she told him demurely.
"Tell me, Freya, do you have any desire to return to Svartálfaheimr? Any family you've left behind?" The Doctor asked, leaning against the wall facing her and crossing his arms.
Freya shook her head. "My family's dead and gone. Truthfully, I'd been hoping for ages that you'd come back someday, take me away from the oppression I suffered at the hands of my own people." The dwarf's smile widened. "I thought you never would, but I was wrong. You came after all, and brought me to this wonderful planet where I've been offered a position in the court."
The Doctor cleared his throat awkwardly, knowing perfectly well that he would have never returned if Amy had not insisted upon it. "I'm glad to hear you're happy here."
"Oh, very much so." Freya squinted up at him. "But you know, I never figured on you becoming a family man again. Dwarves are very good at sensing what a person's life has been like up to the point, and the first time I met you, yours seemed so sad, full of things no one should be able to see and keep going on afterward like you do."
"I never figured on it either, until Amy. She's…really something. No; she's extraordinary."
Freya chuckled. "So I've noticed. No one's ever survived the Fenris before, let alone succeeded in killing it."
The Doctor beamed proudly.
"Although…there's something about what I can sense, like it was planned."
The Doctor's smile faltered. "How do you mean? Everything that's happened up to this point has been purely accidental."
"Here, give me your hand," Freya said, extending her own hand. He complied, briefly reminded of Eudora as she ran a stubby finger down the lines in his palm, concentrating. She winced as she read the tragedy and pain written there, the mere flickers of their memories on the backs of her eyelids almost too much for her to bear. "Ah, here it is. I see several events that don't quite follow the pattern of your life. It begins at…the third time you landed in Amy's garden, before she became your wife and the first time she traveled with you. The others involve…the Fountain of Youth and a landing on the planet of Dulkis, where you were married unknowingly. All of these were organized by an exterior force."
Freya had his full attention now. "Are you saying someone tampered with the TARDIS's coordinates?"
The dwarf closed her eyes again. "More like something. An ancient being, old, if not older, as your race…" Freya laughed weakly. "This is going to sound crazy, but it's almost as if…as if it's your ship in of itself. But that can't be; time machines aren't alive."
The Doctor's expression darkened as realization dawned on him. "Excuse me, Freya. I think it's time I had a little chat with a certain lifeless time machine."