I'm going to warn everyone in advance that if you were hoping that our two lovebirds would have their first outing as a couple go to plan, you might be disappointed. And you're probably going to hate me by the end of this.
But then, you probably already knew that, didn't you?
CHAPTER 24. First Date: 1 December 2010 - 5 February 2011
Come on, the Doctor thought impatiently, what's taking her so long?
In lieu of the occasion, the Doctor had decided to exchange his tweed jacket for an olive-green overcoat he had seen lying in his room, but was otherwise clothed in usual attire, bowtie and suspenders all. He shook his head, sighing. He still had deep, deep reservations about this whole affair, but the sparkle in the emerald eyes demanded satisfaction.
He tried not to think about the wry suggestion that had formed in the corner of his mind that even though they'd barely even started their proper 'thing', and despite the fact he was over forty-five times her age, she already had him wrapped around her finger.
Muttering impatiently, he turned on the spot and began twiddling knobs on the console again, entering co-ordinates for their next destination. He'd picked it the previous week in a moment of inspiration as part of his make-up-tour for Amy. That tour was now something very, very different. But it was a quite wonderful place anyway, so there was no change of plan in that regard.
He finished dialling in the co-ordinates and was about to head below to start some more somewhat pointless TARDIS maintenance when a clear, Scottish accented voice called out from somewhere above him.
"You look rubbish."
He turned to find Amy in a full-length, silken crimson dress, standing at the top of the staircase, an enigmatic glimmer in her eyes as she smirked at the Time Lord. The material was light, rippling around her curves without overly accentuating them. Her hair had been brushed out of its tousled morning state, and now fell over her bare shoulders in a river of shimmering flame.
"You look wonderful," he replied, mouth slightly agape at her appearance. Understatement central.
"I could have sworn I saw a tux and top hat lying around here somewhere," Amy remarked as she descended the stairs, high heels enhancing her already willowy frame. "Couldn't you have worn that instead?"
"My apologies, Miss Pond." A smirk to match hers had found its way to his lips. "I'll endeavour to do better next time." She laughed, a sound that was like the cleansing cool of a waterfall cascading overhead, and linked her pale, slender arm through his.
"Shall we?"
Amelia Pond grinned at her new boyfriend. "Let's."
He gripped the flight lever and threw it down, sending the TARDIS flying through the Time Vortex.
The crisp spring air of Alaphi was silent save for the rippling of the sea breeze and the delighted chirping of birdsong. It was mid afternoon and the inhabitants were taking a well-earned siesta, leaving the streets between the gleaming towers of gemstone, dozens of metres high, peaceful and empty. It was a picture-perfect scene, befitting of the title of most beautiful city in the local cluster of galaxies. From a distance, one could stand and watch for hours as the sun drifted slowly through the unique blend of gases in the atmosphere, changing the colour of the sky from a deep, crystalline blue, to a vivid, entrancing emerald and finally a stunning crimson-red. The crystals reflected whatever shade of light the sky chose to take, twinkling at every hour of the day.
It was mid-afternoon, and the sky was still the spectacular shade of green that brought visitors from far and wide to the planet. Suddenly, the air on the outskirts of the city was rent by the soft wheezing noise, quite unlike anything else anyone could have claimed to have hear before.
As quickly as it came, the noise died down... and then came back again, louder. As it did so, the faint outline of a box began to appear out of thin air (and the air on Alaphi was indeed quite thin). The noise faded again, as did the box, but again, both returned. The cycle continued several more times before a deep reverberation, like the beating of a large drum, sounded out through the air, leaving silence and a big, blue box, sitting nonchalantly between two of the many artificial waterfalls that dotted the city.
The doors opened, revealing a tall, bow-tie wearing man wearing a full-length green overcoat, and an equally tall red-headed girl wearing an equally red dress, the fabric terminating just above her ankles.
The moment the doors had opened sufficiently, the girl's hand shot up to her mouth with a gasp, her eyes widening as she took in the city skyline from afar.
"Oh... my... god..." Amy breathed.
The Doctor grinned at her, a twinkle in his eye. After six months, it wasn't easy to surprise her in that way. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
Amy's response was to wrap her arms around the Time Lord's neck and ram her lips into his, her eyes fluttering closed as she drank in the kiss.
The reservations the Doctor had about the whole affair that hadn't been chased away when he'd seen her walk down the stairs, or stamped out of existence when she'd reacted so joyously to the location he'd chosen quite simply vanished when their lips met.
As did everything else in his mind.
All he could think about was his Amy, the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her shoulder blades as his hands slipped around her back...
She broke apart, smirking slightly, his arms still loosely wrapped around her.
"Well, well," she murmured, a mischievous glimmer in her sky-green eyes. "You sure got into that one."
"Couldn't help myself," he replied, as awareness came flooding back. "Sorry. But I was of the opinion that the kissing was supposed to happen after the date."
She giggled. "For ordinary girls, maybe. I'm not an ordinary girl in case you hadn't noticed. So shall we?"
"Oh, let's."
He lowered his arms off her shoulder blades, tracing over the silken fabric of her dress lightly, and linked his right arm through her left. Together, they took a single step over the threshold of the TARDIS and into the cool spring Alaphi air.
They had no idea that it would be the only one.
Amy would never quite be able to describe the extraordinary sensation that hit her as she took that step beyond the TARDIS doors. The closest she would come was as if someone had wired up a billion loudspeakers right against her ear and starting shouting at her, but that didn't quite do justice to it.
Billions of voices suddenly burst into life inside her head, filling every pocket of her consciousness. Utterly unprepared and unexpected, she didn't have time to react, to put up the protective barriers that would have kept them out before they flooded into her head like little balls of flame, burning her from the inside, an excruciating, impossible pain – not of the body, but of the mind.
Within a millisecond, the pain reached a crescendo, and her brain, completely overwhelmed, simply failed.
Her last conscious act to call telepathically to her boyfriend for aid before she was plunged into darkness and thought no more.
The first thing the Doctor felt was the sudden arrival of thousand upon thousands of voices pressing against his mind.
Having been to Alaphi before, however, he knew that this was nothing more than the unshielded telepathic conversations around him. The inhabitants of the planet, the Alaphite, were low-level category 5s, and at a young age, they were fitted with implants to allow them to communicate telepathically. Being weak, they couldn't detect any conversations beyond about ten metres. Being a fully trained Time Lord, however, and hence, considerably more sensitive, the Doctor found himself eavesdropping inadvertently on little pieces of gossip, business meetings and schoolyard tussles for dozens of miles around.
This was of no concern to him, though. He'd grown up on Gallifrey, where the level of ambient telepathic activity was even higher than it was here. Like on all planets with ambient telepathic activity, he'd developed an instinctive, natural barrier to the kind of undirected incessant chatter that surrounded him by the time he was just a few months old. It wasn't a product of his biology, it was just an obvious natural defence to the otherwise crippling noise that surrounded any resident of such a planet, coming before he could even crawl. It was so natural that no one really had ever thought about it, simply assuming that any telepath had such a barrier on instinct.
What he'd forgotten, therefore, was that Amy Pond hadn't grown up on Gallifrey. She'd grown up on Earth, where the level of telepathic activity was close enough to zero as made no difference. And so whilst she could consciously create barriers that could easily keep out the ambient telepathic activity of not just one but several planets' worth of noise, she didn't have that instinctive natural defence.
As a result, the second thing he felt upon stepping out of the TARDIS was a desperate, terrified cry.
Help...
It was weak, so weak that for a moment he wasn't sure if it was actually addressed to him. But he knew that voice, knew it like his own two hands. And he'd definitely heard the terror, the confusion, the pain...
What the...
He turned, stunned, to look at the Time Lady, only to see her eyes rolling into the back of her head as the life vanished from her body. She fell in a graceful arc, rag-doll-like, her arm slipping out from his.
No-no-no-no!
Moving with the grace and speed of an athlete, he caught her before she could hit the hard concrete beneath her, cradling her limp form in his arms as he turned on his heel, kicking the TARDIS doors shut behind him as he re-entered.
"Get us out of here!" He screamed at the console. The TARDIS, of course, heard him. The flight lever pulled itself down of its own accord and the TARDIS dematerialised from Alaphi, reappearing somewhere in deep space.
Somewhere safe.
The Doctor didn't notice, or care. His mind was consumed by a single, terrifying thought as he laid Amy gently on the floor, her head rolling to the side, her lips parted slightly and her eyes still sickeningly half-open, her green irises just visible beneath her eyelids, completely and utterly devoid of light... of life.
"Amy! Amy!" He could shout and scream all day but he knew it would be of no use – she was quite clearly comatose. At best.
Please don't let her be dead. Please don't let her her be dead.
He tried going into her mind, desperate, but there was nothing there. Absolutely nothing. Endless oblivion. That was all that he could find. He should have known that, of course, for he'd felt her psychic presence completely vanish when she'd collapsed, leaving a sudden, gaping hole in the telepathic field around him.
That was nothing, however, compared to the puncture that he felt in his hearts.
No. She can't be dead. Please. Please.
He bent down and grabbed her hand, turning it over to inspect the back. There was nothing, no sign of anything unusual, no golden mist rising from her pale skin. No regeneration.
With trembling fingers, he pressed his fingers to her exposed neck. If he didn't feel a pulse... he couldn't even contemplate it.
He pressed his fingers to the carotid artery and waited.
For half a second, nothing. Bile and terror rose in his throat as his stomach writhed in fear.
Then...
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
Barely palpable but unmistakeable. A sensation more incredible, more glorious than anything he had felt in his long, long life.
A heartbeat of four.
The next few minutes were a blur for the Doctor.
Having determined that she was at least alive for the time-being, and hence having regained full usage of his immense intellect as his brain was no longer consumed by overriding, debilitating terror, he scooped the comatose Time Lady into his arms, racing up the steps two at a time to gently lay her on her bed, closing her eyes with his fingertips as he did so. The image of her half-obscured irises, a deathly, sickly green, would haunt him for life. He couldn't help but quickly take her pulse again, just to be sure... One, two, three, four. Still alive. Right. Now to find out what happened.
He thought back to the events that immediately led up to her collapse.
So we landed on Alaphi. I opened the TARDIS door to show her the city. We kissed, and blimey it was a good kiss. Then we linked our arms and we walked out of the TARDIS. And just like that, she collapsed. But she sent me a telepathic message for help first. Why, why, why? What happened there?
He wracked his eidetic memory for the history of Alaphi. He was completely sure he'd landed in a time period that was safe. There was no possibility that he'd made a mistake... was there?
He had to check. He leapt up from her lifeless form, pausing only to cover her body with the blanket and reposition her head more comfortably on the pillow. Behind him, he heard a door swing open, and turned to find a doorway to the library which had certainly not been there ten seconds before.
"Thanks, dear," he muttered, sprinting into the library, only just managing to avoid running headlong into the pool. History of Alaphi... History of Alaphi... where are you, he thought as his eyes traced along the shelves. They caught a purple-and-orange hardcover tome just above his eyeline. There you are. He yanked the book off the shelf and flicked rapidly through its pages, settling on the passage of history that he wanted.
Alaphi was not known for its wars or violence, the author had written, and indeed, the period in which the Alaphi Prime metropolis was voted the most beautiful city in the Pegasus cluster was marked for the astonishing feat of not a single violent crime or war in its entire tenure as holder of the title.
So he was right after all. And in any case, if someone had shot her, he would have noticed. Plus, she would have regenerated. Or she would be dead. Seeing that she had done neither, some malevolent being attacking her was most definitely ruled out.
It didn't comfort him – she was still very much comatose. Come on. Think. Think. Whatever happened to her happened the moment she left the TARDIS doors. That must be important. Why is that important? What protection was the TARDIS providing that disappeared when she walked out the doors?
Immediately, a list tumbled through his mind as he recalled every type of shielding and protection the TARDIS provide to its inhabitants. Energy shielding. High-velocity kinetic shielding, if I find the extrapolator. Toxic gas filters, if I ever manage to fix them. Chameleon circuit, obviously. Perception filters. Temporal shielding. Vortex shields. Psychic shielding. Oh...
At the last item on the list, a memory stirred itself in his mind, of his first visit to the planet, many, many centuries ago. He was a different man then. He'd landed on the planet in its heyday, taking in the sights. Along the way, he'd passed a pair of its inhabitants, and heard them chatter telepathically, loudly insulting the multi-coloured umbrella he was carrying. That incarnation of him hadn't thought twice about putting them in their place... but he couldn't afford a trip down memory lane right now.
Telepathic. The Alaphite are telepathic. The TARDIS was proving telepathic shielding, which was why it didn't affect her while she was inside. She steps out, though, and beyond the telepathic shield, and... oh no.
It was an epiphany. He now knew what happened. It all made sense. Her almost instantaneous transition from conscious and happy to within an inch of death. The complete oblivion in her mind. The seemingly contradictory steady beating of her hearts, as if nothing untoward had happened.
Neurological overload.
A hot, nauseous sensation built within the Doctor's throat. The moment the Doctor had landed them on Alaphi, she was in terrible, terrible danger.
She never grew up with telepathic exposure. She doesn't have the natural instinctive barrier.
Her only chance would have been if he'd told her to raise her external conscious barriers before they left and keep them up for the entire duration of their trip, but, of course, in the romance, levity and excitement, he'd completely forgotten to do that, hadn't he?
Amelia Pond... I've failed you. Again.
He trudged back into her room, head bowed. He sat on her bed, taking in her round, almost angelic face, framed by rivers of flame. Part of her hair had fallen over her eyes. Although completely aware that it made no difference from her point of view, he couldn't help but brush it out of her face with his fingers. If she was dreaming, she would have sighed imperceptibly at the gesture.
There was no response, as she wasn't. She wasn't thinking anything at all. A single tear rolled down his cheek, then another. He blinked them away, recollecting himself. No. NO. I have to be strong. For her.
He knew that, thankfully, her biology had given her one last line of defence. It was the only reason she was still alive. Mercifully, there would be no permanent effects from the overload and her mind would fully recover in time. But she would find daily life a bit tricky for a while when she woke. When she wakes...
He had no idea when that day would come. Overloads had been so few and far between in Time Lord history that the records were sketchy to say the least. The coma period was said to have lasted months for some, but other accounts put it at years. One famous incident had left a Time Lord incapacitated for over a decade.
It didn't matter. He didn't care.
She waited fourteen years for me. If I have to wait that long for her, it's only fair.
He'd wait for as long as it took.
Darkness.
Total and utter black.
That was the first thing Amy Pond was aware of when consciousness returned.
Am I dead?
She might well have been, because she couldn't remember feeling so strange. Her mind seemed so... detached, as if there was a glass screen between her conscious self and the rest of her, and she didn't have a stone to break through. She couldn't feel her arms or legs - or anywhere else on her body, for that matter, resulting in a curious floating sensation. I must surely be dead.
But there was a sound, a strange noise... a gentle humming, a whirring – the TARDIS engines... I'm on the TARDIS?
She opened her eyes.
Or, rather, she tried to open her eyes. But her eyelids simply wouldn't budge.
What the hell? What's going on?
She summoned up every ounce of determination available to her and with an almighty effort, forced her eyelids to crack open ever so slightly.
Even through the narrow slit, the light entering her eyes almost blinded her. It took all her will not to close her eyes again, but she had to know what the devil had happened to her, and where she was.
Another immense effort and her eyelids opened all the way, taking in a familiar blue colour, a painted, grainy texture. Her bedroom ceiling. She lowered her eyes to see herself still clothed in her crimson dress, a white duvet covering her body.
I'm in my room, on the TARDIS. So... I'm guessing I'm alive. Always handy.
She tried to move, to get up – but again, her muscles refused to answer her request. Concentrating again, she directed all her effort towards moving her leg, but this time they didn't respond at all.
She tried her other leg. Same thing. Her arms, ditto.
Panic rose in her throat. I'm paralysed. Why am I paralysed?
She tried crying out for the Doctor but, as she'd suspected would happen, nothing came out. This didn't deter her, however.
Doctor!
From somewhere on her right, she heard an almighty crash, the unmistakable sound of a metal pot falling onto cold, hard stone. This struck her as somewhat odd, as the last time she checked the kitchen most definitely wasn't attached to her bedroom, but the thought was quickly replaced by relief as she heard thudding footsteps and saw the Time Lord appear next to her, sitting on the bed and gripping her lifeless hand as if magicked out of thin air.
"Amy? Are you really awake?"
Yes, numpty, hence why I'm talking to you.
He smiled gently at her. She would have returned it if she could, relieved that he remained the one, unchanging constant in her life, looking exactly the same as ever, bow-tie and all. On closer inspection, however, she could see that wasn't quite true – shadowed bags had developed under his eyes and his hair was even more unkempt than usual.
He looks like he's barely slept in weeks... how long was I out?
Suddenly, he had reached his arms beneath her and was holding her limp body tight against his, constricting her breathing slightly as he nuzzled her temple, taking in her scent. Although she could barely feel him holding her and couldn't react physically in any way, the nature of his reaction told her everything she needed to know. She closed her eyes, satisfaction and contentment washing through her. "Oh, Amelia. I thought I'd lost you," he whispered into her hair.
Hi to you too. I'm not going anywhere. But first things first – there a reason I'm paralysed? I can't move anything but my eyes.
He pulled back, locking his gaze with her again-open eyes. His face still wore that same gentle but somewhat sad smile as he stroked her fringe.
"Yes, you will be for a while. Don't worry, though, your motor skills will come back eventually. Give it a bit."
So I won't be quadriplegic forever?
"'Course not. I imagine you'll be up and about in no time at all."
Thank God for that. Would have been bloody boring just sitting here all day, relying on you to drag me around.
"Ah yes, now that you mention it, I have something for you." He clicked his fingers and without warning, dug his arms underneath her leg, lifting her bodily off the bed. She squawked telepathically in surprise as he carried her across the room and placed her in what was unmistakably a wheelchair – albeit a rather futuristic one.
Gee, thanks, she remarked dryly. But doesn't this still involve you dragging – well, pushing – me around?
"It's motorised, and I added a telepathic circuit to the controls."
So I just...
"Yep. Think and go."
Alright, so if I tell it to move forward...
And it did, leading to another surprised squawk emanating through the psychic field as the silver wheelchair moved forward, the Time Lady giggling telepathically as she rolled across the room. After a few seconds, however, she noticed that the opposite wall was approaching rather fast.
Doctor, how do I-
Crash.
The Doctor bounded ahead to pull the Time Lady away from the wall, who was sending out frantic messages of alarm (from her knees having been pinned between the seat of the wheelchair and the hard stone wall, although she couldn't feel them) and psychic laughter at the experience.
"I think you'll find that you have to tell it manually to stop as well," he told her, amusement dripping from his voice.
Could have told me earlier, she shot back. He laughed – even in her less-than-able state she still maintained her usual snark. So how long was I out? She asked.
His smiled dropped as he turned the wheelchair around, tilting her neck with the palm of his hand so her head was back upright again. So fragile, so precious... "Two months. It's early February now."
She paused. You're not serious.
"Deadly serious."
Bloody hell. So... I've missed Christmas? And my birthday?
He winced. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Don't worry about it. So long as you're here with me, I've got what I need.
"And I thought my lines were cheesy."
But this one happens to be true, she pointed out, drawing a wan smile from the Time Lord. Dammit, I want to kiss him so badly, but I can't... So what happened to me?
He sighed. "I'm sorry. It was my fault."
What did I say about not apologising?
"I know. But this really was my fault. I could have killed you, I almost killed you, just because of a stupid, stupid mistake..." He trailed off, head bowed, as his despair began to choke him from within.
Hey now, she crooned softly, reassuringly, her thoughts easing his pain. It's OK. Whatever happened, I know you didn't mean it. And I can tell you've been doing nothing but care for me while I was out. So what actually happened?
He met her eyes, aged pools of aquamarine meeting sparkling emerald. "The Alaphite are weakly telepathic. I should have mentioned to it to you, but..."
Probably, yeah, she interjected, but I really don't see why that's a problem, she pointed out nonchalantly.
"On Gallifrey, and on any planet inhabited by psychics, when growing up everyone develops a unconscious psychic defence against others. It's the only way we can keep ourselves sane, otherwise the telepathic chatter of the thousands and thousands of people around you would drive you completely bonkers."
I can imagine. So I'm guessing that when I stepped on to Alaphi, I didn't have this defence? Why not? I can easily create barriers that could shut out any number of people if I wanted to.
"I know. But that's the point – you have to do it consciously. You grew up without high-level telepathic ability or indeed any telepathic noise around you at all. You don't have that sort of natural defence that only comes from being exposed to ambient telepathic hubbub from a very young age."
That sucks, she remarked, drawing a chuckle from the Time Lord.
"It does, doesn't it?"
Mm. So when I stepped out of the TARDIS...
"Yes. As soon as you left the TARDIS's shielding, your mind picked up the telepathic conversations, not just of the city, but of the entire planet. That's how sensitive you are. Unfortunately, ten billion voices is far too much for even your brain to handle. Before you could react and put up your conscious barriers it... overloaded."
A shudder ran through the psychic field, the word having triggered the memory of a thoroughly disturbing passage Amy had read in an ancient Gallifreyean text several months before. Overloaded? But that... that means...
"Yeah. You know what that means."
Have I lost any memories? Will I be a different person from now on? Tell me, Doctor, she demanded, her tone urgent.
"No, I don't think so. The automatic response to an overload is to close off all the most important parts of the mind. That's not just critical functions like breathing and digestion, but memories too. All your motor and speech skills burnt out instantly but your memories and personality are intact."
He felt her relax. Thank goodness for that. Was scared for a moment that I might become weird and wear a bow-tie.
"Oi. They're cool."
They are not.
It struck him that even in this state, she was still utterly irrepressible. He smiled at her and stroked her cheek, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes, the one gesture available to her, revelling at his touch.
Wait, she began, but if I'm paralysed, then how come I can feel you now? I couldn't feel you touching my hand before, or when you were hugging me.
"Your nervous system has started to repair itself. Your facial muscles will come back first, although they'll take some time to be fully functional. You can already move your eyes, and your major facial and neck muscles should follow within short order. But your arms, legs and finer motor functions will take a while to return to full use. You'll basically have to re-learn how to walk and talk again." He closed his eyes, feeling little but acute shame for yet another wrong he'd inflicted upon her.
Doesn't matter, she replied airily. So long as I can move around in this thing and talk to you like this for the time being, I'll be fine. But you owe a bunch of presents, by the way. And a date, she reminded him.
He didn't smile. For the last two months he'd thought about little other than just how fragile, how precious she was, how dangerous he was to her. "Listen, Amy..."
Oh shut up. Not having a bar of it. I can see those shadows under your eyes, Doctor. And I can see that bed you've given yourself in the corner. And the kitchen you've attached to the side. And a bathroom. I bet you've even added a shortcut to the library too.
Now he couldn't help but smile. "Observant, aren't you?"
I try. My point is, Doctor, you can go on all day about how dangerous you are to me, and all that. But for the last two months I bet you've barely left this room at all, apart to pick up this wheelchair and modify it.
She was, of course, correct, he hadn't left the room and surroundings at all other than to find the wheelchair in a 24th century hospital. Seeing this, the TARDIS had kindly attached some extra rooms to Amy's bedroom to make life a bit easier for him, amongst other modifications it knew would be necessary when Amy woke up. But even so...
"I can't lose you, Amelia. For a moment I thought you had died there, and it was one of the worst feelings I've ever had in my life. There's plenty of competition for that, too."
Yet you could have left me in Leadworth for Rory to take care of me and run off on your own. But you didn't. You stayed to care for me on your own. You waited for me. She paused, letting the statement sink in. Face it, Doctor, she continued, you're hopelessly in love with me. And it goes the other way. I know it's dangerous. I know I might be killed the next time we leave the TARDIS. And I – don't – care.
He gazed at her for a few seconds, his face unreadable, before her determination burning star-bright in her eyes won through and he smiled again. "My Amelia Pond. What would I do without you?"
Probably be stupid bored. Now what's for lunch, or breakfast, or whatever? I'm starving.
The Doctor sprang up, regaining his usual energetic demeanour. "Ah. Yes. Lunch. I'm afraid that since you can't exactly chew, it'll be soup for a while. Oh, and I'll be spoon-feeding you."
Amy groaned telepathically. This was not going to be easy on her sense of dignity.
Sorry. I'm mean.