Wow, didn't expect that response after just half a day! Cheers, people. Still have no clue where I'm going with this long term, but that just means I'll be able to enjoy the ride too. Pleased not to have any formatting complaints yet.

Oh, and if someone comes up with a better title for this chapter then I'll not hesitate to change it.

CHAPTER 3. Welcome To The Club: 22 August 2010

"So does this make me a weirdo like you then? Am I gonna start wearing bowties now?"

"Amy!" The Doctor snapped his eyes to the ginger, a look of mock hurt on his face. "No, unfortunately. You should, though. They're cool."

Amy simply rolled her eyes.

They were in the console room. They had taken their time making their way down there, as Amy had constantly been distracted by the complex array of symbols on the corridor walls, which we now knew were Gallifreyean writings. To her amusement, she'd found that nearly all of them were directions to the console room, and had had a jolly good time teasing the Doctor about not knowing the way around his own home after seven centuries. He'd tried to retort that his home had hundreds of rooms that he knew of, probably had thousands more he hadn't explored, and endless miles of corridors. Unfortunately for him, his protests had fallen rather flat when Amy spotted one of the markers opposite his bedroom door.

"So, apart from being able to understand Time Lord speak-"

"Gallifreyean, Amy."

"Right, that. Apart from that, what else can I do?"

The Doctor smiled fondly at her. She may have changed species, but she was still the same stubborn, contradictory, Scottish-accented ginger who had hit him with a cricket bat.

"Probably best that you read a book for that, Amy. But for starters, you have psychic ability like me now, you can sense people's emotions and communicate telepathically if you touch them."

"You can't see into my brain right now, can you? I mean, two telepaths in one room, surely they've gotta, you know, interact."

The Doctor laughed, missing the note of worry in her voice.

"I see you've inherited a Time Lord intellect too-"

"Time Lady intellect, mister," Amy corrected, her eyes glinting mischievously.

"Right, sorry," He was still struggling to get his head around the idea that he was no longer the last of his species, and was finding it difficult to get out of the habit of referring to them all by the male of the species.

Now is not the time to be starting a Gallifreyean feminist movement, he reminded himself.

"I can't see into your head yet," he said. "Eventually we'll be able to communicate through our thoughts. You still have to learn how to do it... and I have to remember how. It's been a long time since there was another Time Lady around for me to communicate with..." Knowing that he was no longer the last of his kind didn't yet ease the pain of what had been done. What he'd done.

Possibly due to the fact that you've never met anyone from Gallifrey anything like Amelia Pond, he mused.

Amy sensed his drifting off and snapped her fingers.

"Oi! Not done yet. What else?"

"What? Oh, sorry. Yes. Telepathic... stuff. All your senses are sharper, if you may have noticed. Especially taste and smell, you'll be amazed what you can find out once I teach you how-"

"-but fish fingers still won't go with custard, I'm sure-" Amy muttered.

"-and you already know about regeneration, but I don't know how many of those you have. Best we don't find out the hard way. Oh, and you don't age at all... oh." He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening in shock, as the full magnitude of what had taken place finally had taken home.

Rory.

Amy had told him about her fiancée a few weeks previously, and whilst he'd been surprised (and somewhat alarmed) to learn that the "stuff" she'd referred to was in fact her wedding day, he'd barely given thought to it since. He was, after all, in a time machine and "tomorrow morning" wasn't a phrase that had much meaning to him. Now, however...

Amy Pond, immortal Time Lady, never changing, never aging, always the same, was engaged to Rory Williams, mortal, human, aging. How could he be so blind?

How do I tell her?

Amy narrowed her eyes.

"Oh what?"

Her voice wrenched the Doctor out of his train of thought. "Nothing. Just boring stuff, you know. Anyway, that's basically all there is to it. I think."

"Right," Amy still looked sceptical, but didn't push the matter further, much to the Doctor's surprise and gratitude. "I guess there's a Time Lord 101 textbook around here somewhere?"

"In the library, yeah. Don't know where it is, never opened it myself. The TARDIS'll know, though." He smiled and waved after her as she ascended the staircase.

As soon as she left down the corridor, his smile vanished and he collapsed into his chair, sighing as he held his head in his hands.

Oh Pond. What have I done to you?

He leant back and sighed.

I really don't know what to do now... hey, that's a new feeling, he realised, briefly perking up before coming back to his senses and lightly slapping himself in admonishment. It began to dawn on him the consequences of her mistake – of his lie.

She's engaged to Rory. She belongs to him, she needs to be with him.

Does she? A small, dark whisper arose from a previously unnoticed corner of his mind.

Yes. She's getting married to him in the morning.

Then why did she run away with you? On the eve of her own wedding?

It was a fair question, he realised, and one that demanded a proper answer. I gave her all of time and space, he answered. Everything that ever happened or ever will. How could she resist?

You made her wait twelve years, the voice pointed out. Then another two. Her entire childhood, waiting for her Raggedy Doctor. What's another day?

She didn't exactly tell me straight away. I only found out about it a few weeks ago.

And then she tried to seduce you, the voice replied.

Anger flashed briefly within him, irrational and dark. Shouldn't she be the one asking these questions?

She has been. She's been asking them from the moment she stepped in. You know that. You can see it deep within her eyes. Quite beautiful eyes they are, really, the dark voice continued.

Stop it. Right now. I WILL take her back to Leadworth to marry Rory, he resolved forcefully.

And then what?

He paused for a moment, knowing what was coming. And then...

She's a Time Lord, the voice reminded him. Telepathic. Two-hearted. Immortal. There is nothing you can do to change that.

He hesitated.

So? Rory can still live a long and happy life with her.

And so Rory will live a long and happy with her, and hopefully die a natural death in fifty, sixty, seventy years. Amy, however...

The dark voice trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

She'll find someone else. There's six billion people on that planet right now, and there'll be about ten billion by that time. He received a laugh in response, bitter and cruel, born out of nine centuries of self-hatred and regret.

Really, Doctor. I know you go through women quickly – another flash of anger – but, really? Maybe you'll drop on her in the year 3000 and find her on her fifteenth husband.

Well, what choice do I have? She's Amelia Pond, engaged to Rory Williams, and most definitely not engaged to The Doctor. Where does she belong, if not in Leadworth? Impotent fury rippled through his thoughts now, his self-control withering.

Here. In the TARDIS. Like all Time Lords.

He breathed in deep, searching his mind desperately for a response, refusing to give in, to accept.

"Doctor?"

He shot bolt upright, stiffening as if he had been subjected to a huge electric shock. He actually stood so quickly that he immediately lost his balance and tumbled awkwardly back onto the seat. Amy giggled, but concern was etched in her gaze.

"Amy!" He righted himself, massaging the crumples in his tweed jacket. "Did you find the manuals?"

"Eventually. No thanks to you, hiding them behind a ten foot wall of books," she replied, dry amusement in her tone. Her wry smile faded. "Are you OK?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine," he assured her a little too quickly.

"Sure? I mean, I just had this feeling that you were getting angry about something. Bit weird, I know, from all the way over in the library, but, y'know, female intuition."

He forced a laugh and a smile. "Psychic resonances from the time vortex," he lied. "Nothing to worry about. Now, to the library and let's teach you Time Lord 101."

She giggled and turned back up the stairs to head back to the library. He followed, unseen helplessness and worry written in every young line of his ancient face.

Quite simply, he had no idea what to do.

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