Talky-talky (with some, um, extras near the end), featuring the last we'll see of our human trio for a while. This one ISN'T 6000 words long, though. The original plan for this included Katherine and Jack staying onboard but a reviewer then suggested that I leave them off for a while, so I drafted this. And found that I liked it a hell of a lot more than the original (and others agree). Moral: review, because it does genuinely lead to a better story.
I honestly didn't plan to have Amy hand over the sonic phone until ten seconds before I wrote it. Bizarre how that happens.
CHAPTER 22. The Note In The Box: 4 – 30 November 2010
"You're not serious."
"What, don't you like it?" the Doctor asked Rory, bemused.
Rory just stared, agape, at the gleaming décor of the blood-red Jaguar E-Type.
"But... that's my favourite car. How did you know that was my favourite car?"
"Well, you showed me a picture a few weeks back and said 'that's my favourite car'."
He shook his head in disbelief and walked past the gleaming automobile, pushing open the garden gate. He opened the door to the house, stepping into the porch of the house. His house. It was still warm and inviting, heated by the sparkling light of the bright June sun... the 26th of June. The day he and Amy were supposed to have gotten married. He tried to force the thought to one side.
It's time to move on, Rory Williams.
It would be difficult, of course... there wasn't really anyone in his life that could replace Amy. To be honest, he'd never really considered it – his entire life, he'd only had eyes for the sharp-tongued ginger-and-now-alien. But he'd promised...
"Promise me, Rory, that you'll find someone," she'd told him after they'd finally broken the kiss. "Someone who deserves someone as special, as perfect, as amazing as you. Someone who isn't selfish, who won't hurt you, like I am."
"Amy, you aren't-"
"Promise me, Rory. Please."
He'd looked deep into her eyes, and saw that the flame that usually lit within them when she looked at him had extinguished, leaving them, sad, dull, empty. "I promise."
"So..." Amy began, utterly lost for words.
"So this is it."
"Don't worry, stupid-face," she laughed sadly, punching him lightly on the arm. "You're not completely rid of me yet. We'll drop by whenever we damn well please, so look out on Easters and Christmases. And weekends. And weekdays. Hell, just be on the lookout, because you never know when we might drop by."
He smiled wanly at her. "Of course."
She bit her lip and threw her arms around him, squeezing his chest into her briefly, tightly. Before he knew it she had broken off and was gazing at him, her face expressionless.
"I want you to have this," she told him, lifting his hand and placing something in his open palm. A block like-device, wires trailing all around it, the outlines of phone visible within, a sparkling amethyst crystal fixed to the end.
Her sonic phone.
"Amy, but-"
"Shut up. I'm getting a proper sonic screwdriver from the TARDIS when I get back, don't worry. But I want you to have this, because I've fixed it so it has the TARDIS permanently locked on. Wherever we are, whenever we are, you just call us and I promise you, whatever you want, whatever you need, I'll be there."
He smiled again, but there was no happiness in it. "And here I was thinking you weren't my girlfriend any more."
Tears briefly glistened in her eyes but she blinked them away. "No. No, I'm not. But even so, you're still important, so important to me. You're the family I never really had. Whenever I needed someone, you were there. It's only fair that I return the favour."
He placed his other hand on hers, pressing down on it and the sonic phone. "See you around, Pond."
"Same to you, Williams. Don't get too friendly with Broad in the interim."
And before he knew it she was gone, vanishing from his sight, from his life, as if she had simply dissolved into thin air, leaving the Doctor, Rory and Katherine (who was busy admiring the car) in her wake. He was about to turn and head inside, and make the first tentative step into his new life, when a sudden urge struck him.
"Doctor, can I talk to you for a moment?"
The man smiled wanly at him. "Whatever you need."
He nodded briskly. "I'll get to the point. I know what's going on between you and Amy."
A flash of annoyance crossed the Time Lord's face. "Rory, I promise you, I-"
"Be quiet, Doctor. I know you didn't mean to, that you genuinely didn't mean to steal her hearts away, that you were trying to make sure that we could be together. But it happened anyway, and it's probably for the best – it's pretty bloody obvious now that the moment she became an alien, our engagement was over."
"Rory, I'm-"
"You're sorry. I know that. I wasn't asking for your pity or your apologies. I'm just telling you this – you want her, in your heart. Or hearts, rather. She wants you. She won't admit it, she might not know it, but I've known her since she was seven. She lets on more than she knows. And do you know what?"
The Time Lord opened his mouth to try and respond, to rebuke, to explain, but the words simply wouldn't come out. The young man didn't wait.
"You can have her. I'm giving her to you. Besides which, she waited for you her entire life, and you two are the last of your species. Maybe it was meant to be." He chuckled sadly, a laughed tinged with bitter loss. "But hear this. Hurt her, take advantage of her... and you'll have me to answer to, even if you're a billion years in the future and a billion light years away. Do you understand me?" His eyes burned with a bright, piercing light the Doctor hadn't witnessed within them previously.
He nodded. He knew, of course, that if the above did happen, Rory would never get to him... he'd have dealt with himself first. He knew, deep within his bones, that he'd sacrifice himself to save her. And that he would never, ever live with himself if he hurt her deliberately.
"Good. Sorry if I was blunt," he added suddenly, the light vanishing, his hands suddenly wringing themselves awkwardly, "I just wanted to make sure I got the message across."
"Rory, I understand. I completely understand. And I'm sorry. This entire business, this entire – bloody – situation is my fault. This should have been your wedding day, but I ruined it. Just like I ruined her. Just like I ruin everyone..." he trailed off, his eyes glazing over, bitterness dripping from every word.
Despite the stabbing of jealousy and anger he felt towards the man, Rory's natural compassion was irrepressible. "That's in the past now," he said softly. "Just remember your mistakes and you won't repeat them again."
"If only it were that simple... but thank you. You're a good man, Rory Williams."
"So are you," Rory said, without why he was saying it. "Even if you don't look it at times. One more thing."
"Yes?"
"I know you two are telepathic and all, and can sense each other's emotions and all that, but even so: stay out of her head, Doctor. Seriously. You will not like what you find in there."
And with that, he was gone, the wooden door thudding shut behind him.
"Farewell, Rory Williams," he murmured, the last warning still ringing in his ears. "I'm sorry it had to be this way."
Katherine was still gawping at the vintage car parked in front of the house when the gate swung open for a second time, the Doctor strolling through, a faraway, distracted expression on his face.
"So he didn't hurt you? Funny, Rory was always seriously protective of Amy. Would've thought he wouldn't have been best pleased with you, stealing her away like that."
"Yes, well, it's not like any of us had any choice. I feel just as bad about it as they do. This whole thing is my fault, after all."
"Self-flagellation won't get you anywhere, Doctor. Although I guess it helps with the sympathy vote."
He laughed softly – Katherine certainly had a way of cutting through the tension. "You think he'll be OK? Rory?"
"Oh, he'll be fine. He's got me around, after all. It'll take him a bit, but he'll move on. He's a strong bloke, as I told you. Although how are we getting around the whole wedding thing? That was supposed to happen... well, right now," she told him, glancing at her watch.
"Jack's work. Retcon. Ask him if you want the details."
"I'll do that. He's supposed to return here in about half an hour anyway."
He smiled at her, grateful that at least there was at least one person here he hadn't wronged permanently. Speaking of which... "Where's Amy?"
"She went straight inside. She didn't look too happy... poor girl. Best give her some space for a while."
He nodded, fully intending to do precisely that. He strode over to the police box and opened the door. "So, see you in a few weeks, yeah?"
"Yep. 1st of September, here, noon. 2010, in case you forget. Be there, be square, Come back when Amy's ready. Try not too have too many adventures whilst Jack and I are gone, though."
He chuckled. "You're serious about wanting to see the universe sort of thing, aren't you?"
"Damn straight I am. Spent my whole life pretending you weren't real, but you give a girl a taste of that, and what do you reckon she's gonna do?"
"Fair enough. Catch you in September, then." He closed the TARDIS door behind him and turned to find Amy standing at the console, examining a brand-new sonic screwdriver in her fingertips, identical to his own save for the deep crimson light at the end, rather than green.
"So you finally saw the light, eh?" He joked, trying to lift the sombre blanket that had fallen throughout the TARDIS in the last few hours.
"Still not quite convinced yet, but we'll see," she answered brightly. She turned to look at him, and her face with lit with that wry, quirky smile that was so familiar – but then he saw the eyes. Their green depths were so empty, so bereft of the fire that usually burned within her, so... dead.
My Amelia Pond... what have I done to you?
"Anyway," she continued in that same cheery voice that if not for her eyes would have convinced him completely, "Where to next?"
His eyebrows shot up. What happened to needing a bit of time and space? "Er – are you sure? You don't want a-"
"I had five hours sleep last night, Doctor. Time's-a-wastin', and that's no good at all, even when you've got buckets of the stuff. So come on. Where to next?"
He gave her another brief, considering glance, and seeing that she clearly wouldn't change her mind, decided to play along. He clapped his hands together, skipping up the steps to the console, flicking switches as he danced around the central column. "Let's go somewhere nice, shall we? First moon of Aplanta, a planet-sized museum of containing replicas the finest natural wonders of the Andromeda Galaxy. And no Daleks or drills there, either – I've checked. How about it?"
Amy grinned at him – although the smile still didn't reach her eyes. "Sounds wonderful, Doctor."
"Thought you might like it. No time to lose, then!" He threw a lever and the TARDIS shuddered, the floor vibrating as it dematerialised from Leadworth.
The Doctor had been true to his word, and taken them straight to Aplanta. They'd spent just over a week there, frolicking in the silvery-blue waters of the inch-perfect replica of the Great Pools of Theseus, gazing awestruck over the swirling sapphire mists at the base three-mile-high Heavenly Waterfall and lying peacefully, hand in hand, in verdant fields of golden and crimson glass, feeling the gentle ambling of the wind through the Fields of Pelori.
But it wasn't enough. Amy needed more. Wanted more. Anything to avoid dealing with the crippling desolation that was devouring her from within. That sickening emptiness that had begun the moment she'd broken that final kiss. She hadn't really appreciated just how much Rory had meant to her, how integral he had become to her life, how intertwined he was with her own heartstrings, how much she needed him... until now that he was gone.
So she pushed the Doctor harder, more insistently, to take them to ever more amazing, more beautiful, more stunning places. What better distraction, she thought, than all of time and space? So after Aplanta, they moved on to yet more astonishing destinations – the Trojan Gardens at their greatest. Apalapucia at its zenith. Kappamarine, again, but this time in its Dalek-free heyday. And that was just in the first three weeks.
It didn't work. They couldn't adventure non-stop, after all – they had to eat, sleep, and rest. But the moment they stopped moving, stopped adventuring, stopped admiring the universe around them, her thoughts automatically turned inwards, to the sense of total loneliness building with in.
It wasn't that she was guilty about what she'd done to him, even though she was. It wasn't that she upset over the ending of their relationship, though she definitely had been for a while. She was a strong girl and she'd gotten over it in that sense. She'd never exactly been one to pine over ex-boyfriends – though she didn't exactly have many – and the intense wanting of him had long since vanished. It wasn't that she felt lost and confused either, trying to work out what her now-unstable abilities meant for her, even though that constantly played on her mind. No. She hadn't fully worked those things out, but she could package them neatly and lock them away in some corner of her mind, and she didn't let it affect her. So that wasn't it.
No. This was loneliness. Pure and simple. The TARDIS, the bigger-on-the-inside box just seemed so empty now.
It was worst at night, like right now. Every night, before she drifted into a restless, white-flecked, truncated sleep, she was acutely aware of how large the bed was with only her alone, how cold it felt without strong arms wrapped around her, how silent it was without someone else's laughter filling the room.
She's known this feeling before. Loneliness in one form of another had been a universal constant of her life for as long as she could remember. But this emptiness was different, and terrifying. This complete detachment, this impenetrable veil between her and everyone else in her life. She'd felt this once before, a few years ago. Only, that time, it was a veil of her own making, the results of a path she had chosen in her arrogance and despair. And that time it had come close to killing her from within. But back then she still had Rory, even if for months she refused to acknowledge it.
This time it wasn't a veil between her and the others in her life. It was that there was no other in her life. There was no Rory, she had banished him from her life forever. There were no friends she could talk to – she almost wished Jack and Katherine, as much as she still bore lingering resentment towards the blonde, were still on board, just so she could have someone her age to chat with. It didn't occur to her that all she needed to do was ask and the Doctor would pick them up straight away, heading back the pre-assigned date and location the girl had given him. There was no parent she could turn to, no shoulder there for her to cry on in her time of uttermost need. She was alone, so very, very alone...
...except for the Doctor.
She still couldn't work out her own feelings towards him after their not-so-final conversation that extraordinary day on Kappamarine. Had it really been, as her intuition told her, an implicit admission of deep, lasting love? Running both ways? She couldn't work it out. Even on her own behalf she didn't know. Didn't really want to know – because finding out would involve searching within herself for the answer, and that would involve facing the nothingness within... the whiteness.
She'd seen it. Got a glimpse. How the hell is it getting out? Why is it getting out? Why aren't my barriers working?
It just made her even more determined to not think about it at every opportunity.
She'd stubbornly refused to deal with it for weeks now, preferring instead to sit and wait, alone, hoping that some epiphany would come to her and solve all her problems. It didn't come, of course, and she admonished herself for being so bloody stupid, but she didn't know anything else. So she just lay in bed, staring at the deep blue ceiling, feeling oblivion creeping through her.
After a few hours of lying still, she sighed tiredly. She wouldn't be able to get to sleep for hours anyway. And when she did, she knew her dreams would be entirely unpleasant, a mixture of guilt-ridden nightmares about Rory, abstract manifestations of her own crippling loneliness, or, worst of all, flickers of pure white and even occasionally the glint of a piercing obsidian eye. Maybe she'd go to the library and finish off that Korpii historical novel she was in the middle of. Or go play pinball at the arcade. Or go mix and match outfits. Or something. Anything to get her mind off just how lonely she was.
She pushed the blankets roughly off her, forcing them to the side of the bed. This was foolish, because the moment she tried to stand up, rather than finding her feet on solid, unmoving carpet, she placed them on smooth fabric. Unprepared for the sudden lack of friction beneath her, she slipped over and landed in a heap, splayed out across the floor. She picked herself up, muttering curses and expletives in both thickly Scottish accented English and equally thickly Scottish accented Gallifreyean. As she was about to push herself upright, she spotted something beneath her bedside cabinet.
A small red ring box.
She gasped. That's... that's mine. But I gave it to him to keep. Why is it here?
She scrambled across to the cabinet, retrieving the box from underneath. With trembling fingers, she opened it, finding the jewel encrusted golden engagement ring still safely ensconced within. But there was something else there, too... something she definitely didn't remember putting in there. A tiny square of folded-up paper.
A note? He left me a note?
She bit her lip. Do I really want to read it? He must have left it here intending for me to get it some time after I left Leadworth... his last words to me. What the hell – of course I want to read it.
Hands shaking violently, she extracted the little square of paper and unfolded it, revealing the familiar block script of her ex-fiancée. His handwriting was much messier and more uneven than she remembered – evidently, his hand had been shaking as badly as hers was now when he wrote it. Tears splattered onto the thin paper as she took in the note's contents.
Amelia Pond, it began.
I'm guessing you'll read this a few days or weeks after I've gone. So this'll be the right time to say this.
I know you'll feel lonely. And upset. And guilty. And I know that however many times I tell you not to be, you, stubborn girl, won't listen to me.
I can't stand the thought of you being lonely forever, Amy. Because even if we got married, one day I'll die, and you won't. You'll just go on and on and on, missing me, feeling sad for me. And I can't stand that.
I know you gave this ring to me to keep as a memory of you. I don't need it. I've got all the memories of you I'll ever need. This doesn't belong to me.
It belongs to you.
When you'll ready, you'll know what to do. You always know.
Goodbye, Amy. Look after yourself every now and then.
Love,
Rory.
If Rory had written the note intending to make Amy feel better about herself in the short-term, he was sorely mistaken.
The moment Amy had gotten to the words "Love, Rory", she'd had it. She collapsed to the floor, convulsing, barely able to breathe properly for the force of the sobs wracking her body. Her cheeks were now covered in a sticky, glistening sheen of tears.
She knew what he was saying. What he was trying to do. But all she could think about was just how much he had cared for her. Even now, long after their relationship had ended, he was still caring for her, looking after her. She didn't deserve this.
All she knew now was paralysing, debilitating loneliness. Endless, terrifying emptiness. That was her world now.
So strong was her sobs, so thick were the tears in her eyes that she didn't notice the thudding of footsteps outside her door.
"Pond! Just had a brilliant idea for where we should go tomorrow, though you might like to-" The Doctor bounced into the room, utterly oblivious, and then shuddered to a halt when he saw her slumped against the side of the bed, cheeks shining with moisture, the ring box and note still clutched tightly in her hands.
Amy noticed him at last, her once-vibrant, lively eyes now dead, lifeless pools of sickly green finding his. Her emotions shattered, her mind utterly exhausted, she acted completely on instinct, unthinking, desperate for an escape from the nothingness killing her from within.
Before he knew it, she had run into him with such force that she'd bowled him over, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her lips smeared roughly over his.
What the-
He tried to pull away, to calm her, to try and work out what in Gallifrey's name had just happened. Not this all over again. But this time she was insistent, bloody-minded in her intent as her hands began to rove over his back, clawing at him as her body pinned his to the floor. There was no way she was letting go this time.
He tried again to remove himself from beneath her, but in the process he managed to accidentally bump his forehead into hers.
It was if a million light bulbs had suddenly been switched on after he'd been sitting in a darkened room. Thoughts and emotions suddenly assailed him, pouring from her unprotected mind into his. Whatever defences he had were simply washed away in the tsunami of Amy surging into his mind, filling his consciousness.
What's-he-doing-here-why-is-he-here-I-don't-care-I-need-someone-I-need-anyone-and-I-want-I-want-I-want-I-need-I-want-I-need-anything-anyone-let-me-out-please-let-me-get-out-please-
As soon as he heard the final tattered, incoherent thought streaming into his mind, he understood. The alarm, shock and irritation at being jumped by her again was instantly replaced in his hearts by sympathy and sorrow for her plight. With the parts of his mind still available for him to use, he managed to muster a response, hoping against hope that some portion of her mind was still capable of hearing him.
Amelia, wait. I know how you feel. But just wait.
The movement of her hands which were beginning to tug insistently at his tweed jacket stopped immediately. With a small pop, she extricated her lips from his, her wild emerald eyes burning with a uncontrolled fire as they gazed into his.
"Well, that was a surprise," the Doctor joked lamely. "Although the kiss probably was a bit rougher than last time."
The words seemed to bring her back. The dangerous flame within her eyes flickered and died, leaving them cold, sad, and empty. Just like before. The colour rushed from her cheeks and she pushed herself off him, spluttering hasty apologies as she tried to put as much distance between them as she possibly could.
"Sorry – I'm so sorry – I wasn't – I didn't-"
Quick as a flash, cat-like, he was up and before her, placing one finger on her lips and holding her trembling fingers in his other hand.
"No apologising, remember?"
She smiled gently, and the Doctor hoped that that was that – until tears began to stream down her face and wracking sobs began to surge through her body again. He pulled her into her arms, letting the tears soak his jacket as he stroked her fiery hair gently.
"It's OK. I'm here. I'll always be here. Whenever you need me, I'll be there for you, Amelia. You'll never be alone. I promise you."
"You promise me a lot of things," she whispered into his ear, sniffling.
"But I mean this one. It's the very least I can do. Fourteen years I've been ruining your life, hurting you. It's time I started trying to add to your pile of good bits again."
Amy let out a choked noise which was halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Silly old man. Don't you know you are the pile of good bits? Now that... now that everyone else is gone..." She sighed miserably and rested her head on his shoulder. Recognising the signs of exhaustion automatically, the Doctor expertly lifted her by the legs and placed her gently on the bed.
"Sleep now, Pond." He hesitated briefly, then planted a kiss on her forehead, before standing to leave. Before he could take one step, however, Amy's hand had shot out and grabbed him by the wrist.
"Doctor – wait – could you, um, stay here? Just tonight, sleep here. With me. Don't worry, I don't mean like that," she added, smiling briefly as alarm flashed over the Time Lord's face. "I just need some – some, um, company. I don't want to be alone," she explained.
He smiled warmly at her. "Of course, whatever you need. You'll never be alone, Amelia, ever again. You have my word."
She squeezed his wrist tight, her crimson-painted nails digging through the tweed into his skin. "Thank you."
If you're wondering, this'll probably be the last in the series of chapters where you'll see moody/angsty/depressed Amy (which of course, being currently centered on her character, translates into the story). She'll be back to normal-ish happy Amy for a while, and yes, she will start seriously hitting on the Doctor...
...and then I turn the angsty/depressed/unstable Amy up to 11 (no pun intended) and take it to rather alarming proportions.. So yeah... a warning.