So I was going to save this update for tomorrow, but I figured you guys could use it a day early lol.

Please review! :)


It was starting to drizzle as Amy left the apartment, but she was numb to it. Her feet moved on their own accord, pounding out a steady rhythm—the same dull footstep over and over again, and after staring at them for much too long she had to force herself to look up to quell the dizziness that resulted.

She hadn't meant to get that angry. All she'd wanted was the Doctor to understand how she felt, see how trapped she was on New Earth. There'd also been a headache rattling against her skull at the time, and a stomachache in her belly to top it off, which was enough to put anyone in a rotten temperament.

The further she got from the apartment complex the more her headache lessened, allowing her to think more clearly. This, however, only made her feel worse about what she'd done, and how desperately she craved to be in the Doctor's arms again no matter how many times she told herself she didn't want to have anything to do with him. Blinking the tears out of her eyes, she crossed her arms and looked straight ahead. The city was bustling even at this hour, the orbs of light from the streetlamps doing a poor job of illuminating the streets due to the weather. The smooth gray buildings merged with the gray wet streets and the slick coats of the people scurrying down the sidewalks, blending into dull shades of gray and blue and slate, bleeding together, spinning…

Amy reached out and grabbed a streetlamp to prevent herself from collapsing, her stomach twisting unpleasantly. If she was ill, this wasn't the kind of weather she needed to be out in. Sighting a café a little distance away, she made for it, figuring the bout could have resulted from skipping supper.

The chime over the door tinkled as she entered, and she tried to shake off as much water as she could before the coat rack in the entryway took her coat for her and a waiter seated her at a circular table. The opaque-skinned fellow gave her a funny look when she ordered something from just about every section of the menu, none of which complimented each other in the least, but said nothing before going off to fill it, a silver tail flicking back and forth behind him. During his absence, Amy studied the comfortable, softly-lit café interior in hopes that it would take her mind off her upset thoughts and the knots in her stomach.

When at last the food arrived, Amy tore into it with a ferocity that surprised even her. The more she ate the better she felt, giving her a chance to empty her mind of the feelings that had crowded it. She knew what she had to do, even it meant facing him again. Ian and Jenna needed her.

"Well well, if it isn't Amy Pond. Fancy meeting you here."

Amy was just paying her tab—a substantial amount that she felt no guilt using the Doctor's credits for—when she heard the cocky voice behind her. Dread entered her heart as she recognized who it belonged to.

"Fineas Beck."

"Glad to see you remembered." Three and a half years had made him no less of a rich brat, and his eyes wandering a little too freely down Amy's curves. She frowned and hastily retrieved her coat, wrapping it tightly around her to dissuade him.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, more indignant than interested, yet still wanting to know. Anavrin was a long way from New Earth, according to the Doctor's maps.

"Trading, of course. My father thinks I should learn to show some prowess in his growing company, so here I am." Fineas fell in step with Amy as she left the café, although she was none too pleased to have him as a companion. "Never thought I'd run across you again. But where, pray tell, is your husband?"

"At home. How are Clarion and River?"

"Fine, fine. Still busy rebuilding Anavrin. Why did he not come with you, then? The Doctor doesn't strike me as someone who lets you out of his sight."

Amy sighed, seeing that this would not be a question easily sidestepped. "We had a falling out, and I needed some time to think. I'm good now, though. Just headin' back."

"Or you could stay here instead, with me." Fineas grabbed her arm, making her pivot to face him. His eyes were dark and voracious. "I'd like to learn more about you, Amy."

The ginger's stomach lurched again, and she felt bile at the back of her throat. She wrenched out of his grip. "Sorry, Mr. Beck. I can't."

"What's stopping you?" He asked, reclaiming her arm. He was close. Much too close. She could smell the opium on his breath, and it made her head spin again.

"Listen, buster. I'm a happily married woman with two beautiful children. Now, unless you intend to lose that hand, I suggest you let. Go."

"If he really loves you, then why are you out here on your own?" Fineas's grip hadn't yet slackened. Rivulets of water were running into face from his hair, but he had more important things to focus on.

"Because a good man knows when not to be possessive. Perhaps you could take a page out of his book." With that Amy stomped down on his foot, making him cry out in pain and let go of her arm. The moment she was free she ran, shoving her way through the crowds. She could hear him cursing and giving chase, and she willed herself to speed up, weaving a zigzag path in hopes of losing him.

She could see the apartment complex, a white building in a sea of gray, looming nearer, but Fineas's footsteps were also gaining on her. Her body was begging her to stop, the muscles in her legs burning, and she knew she wasn't going to make it, that she was going to drop on all fours any second now and be sick right then and there, and Fineas would have her.

The lobby was devoid of people, much to Amy's dismay. She snatched up the most dangerous thing she could find—a letter opener—off the front desk and turned on Fineas, chest heaving, one hand grasping the desk for support. She wished the room would stop churning, and her stomach with it.

"I'm warnin' ya, don't come any nearer!" She told him, brandishing the letter opener.

Fineas looked at it with amusement before deliberately doing the opposite of what she said. His hand closed around her wrist just as she jabbed the point towards him and turned it, making the blunt blade fall from her hand.

"You don't look well, my dear. You should come back to my hotel with me and rest." Fineas's mouth curved into a smirk, and they both knew that she had lost.

Suddenly, however, the look in Fineas's eyes transformed from victory to surprise as he was dragged forcibly backward by his collar. It was with terror that he found himself face to face with an entirely different sort of storm than the one outside, although this one was a great deal more perilous.

"You seem to have a rather short memory, fella, because I recall telling you quite plainly three and a half years ago that you couldn't have my wife." The Doctor's eyes had lost their calm and were roiling like tempest-tossed waves at sea, and his voice, although low, rumbled with thunder.

Fineas gulped. "I—I—"

"Don't stutter; you'll never make friends if you keep that up. Now, consider this your lucky day, because I'm giving you one last chance to get out of my sight and never even think about coming near Amelia again. But bear in mind; if you do return, you're going to wish you were never born. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

Fineas nodded, flinching. When the Doctor released him, he staggered a little trying to get away from him, then turned and ran out of the apartment complex as fast as his legs could carry him.

Amy, who had slid down to the floor during the exchange, was staring determinedly at her hands in her lap. She was afraid to look at him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him crouch down beside her, felt him checking to see if Fineas had hurt her before placing two fingers under her chin and lifting it so that she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

The storm had dissipated from them, leaving tranquil waters in its wake. He'd been worried about her, she could tell.

"I'm sorry," they both said at the same time, but the Doctor placed a finger over her mouth to silence her.

"No, Amelia. You were right; I should have thought about what living here would do you, and for that I am sorry. But right now we need to get you out of these wet clothes." The Doctor picked her up and began carrying her towards the lift.

"But—"

"We can talk later," he cut in, and she didn't bother to say anything else for fear that she'd be sick all over him if she tried.


The children were asleep by the time they reached the apartment. As soon as they entered it, Amy scrambled out of the Doctor's arms and made a beeline for the toilet, everything she had just eaten refusing to stay down. The Doctor followed her and patiently wiped her mouth with a warm rag, then used a cool one to press against her forehead. She tried to shrug him off, but his hold on her was too strong.

"I guess I shouldn't have eaten so much when I went out. My eyes must be too big for my stomach," Amy said, still feeling a little nauseated.

"You'll feel better once you've had a bath," the Doctor informed as he turned on the hot water tap, not entirely convinced that the food had been the cause but not wanting to say anything yet. He had to be sure.

Later, after Amy was clean, dry, and in one of the Doctor's nightshirts, they climbed into bed together. She was upon him in an instant, her lips seeking his hungrily, her fingers prying at the waistband of his pants, searching for the security Fineas's appearance had taken away from her. Before she got far, though, the sleep that she needed more claimed her, and she went limp against him.

The Doctor waited until her breathing slowed to a pace that meant she wouldn't be easily wakened before reaching for his sonic screwdriver, which was lying on the bedside table. Careful not to disturb her, he held it above her and ran it the length of her prone form, then brought it up for inspection. A familiar feeling tugged at his gut, somewhere in between apprehension and ecstatic joy.

"Suppose this makes three for us, Pond," the Doctor told her in a soft voice, kissing her forehead lovingly.


Hmm wonder what's going to happen next ;)