The Doctor clutched her arms tightly, and his eyes were filled with anger. No. Concern. She watched as he pressed his forehead to hers, and he told her something with a kind, commanding voice. No. His teeth gritted with frustration and he shook her, ignoring her quiet words of pain as he overlapped them with his frantic shouting. Yet she didn't hear anything. Her eyes watched his mouth, and the words that danced from his lips seemed the most familiar. He repeatedly shouted, and continuously shook her, even when she tried to break free from him.
"Amelia," his voice echoed through the silence. "You have to trust me."
She winced as he tightened his grip on her arms, and shook her as hard as he could, repeating the words that were already engulfed in the darkness.
"Doctor…" She whispered, and he paused as if he heard her. "What is this…"
Suddenly, he released her, and held her gently. The hairless mounds that made up his eyebrows raised and he smiled the same smile he had when she was seven and he told her that everything was going to be fine. His eyes seemed to whisper that again, and his thumb quickly wiped away the tear that escaped down her cheek. She watched his lips slowly move, and their foreheads leaned together. The warmth palm of his hand found hers, and he whispered his famous words, and for the first time in a long while, she didn't trust him at all.
With a flicker of her eyelids, the sweet face of her husband overtook her sight and without a second thought, she lunged into his arms and hugged him as tight as she could.
Rory's voice lightly cracked, and he concentrated on steadying himself from being knocked over. "Oh okay, Amy. What's wrong?"
She quickly hushed him, closing her eyes tightly to familiarize herself with his hold, and to the single beat in his chest. When she finally let go, she felt somewhat comforted by his cute, modest smile, and she cradled it in her hands, and a small smile became her.
"Amy?" He asked softly, with concern doused in his eyes. "Amy, what's wrong?"
She pondered for a moment, yet quickly disregarded the faint image of being held up against a wall, with the Doctor kneeling in front of her, and the weak touch of his hand as he smoothed up her skin. Almost instantly, she shook them away, and nervously smiled, looking around to take in her surroundings.
"I just had a bad dream, I s'pose." She said distantly, and glanced to their small, green couch that rested in their quaint living room.
"Are you sure that you're all right?" He persisted somewhat frantically. "I mean, one moment you were just sitting by the counter and then you said you had a headache, and you put your head in your hands and you just slipped under your elbows and h-hit your head."
Her eyes darted up to his, and they slightly narrowed, "I hit my head on the counter?"
"Y-Yeah." He stuttered, and then nodded. "Well, you hit your forehead, but…" His words trailed off from her mind and he led her to sit on the speckled ottoman that had she bought at an old flea market, against Rory's protests. She looked at it curiously as she brushed it with her fingers, and glanced back up at him.
"I don't think I can remember." She murmured, and glanced back down.
She felt her memories were like a broken record, or a rusted-cover brake, the more she tried to run it in her mind, the more it stuck and reverse and scraped away. But no, it was nothing like that at all.
"Your dream?" asked Rory, cautiously hopeful that it was only the normal case of forgetting one's dreams when awoken.
But her expression didn't change, and he tried to break a laugh, yet only came off like a nervous buffoon, "Or w-what you called this thing?"
Amy stared blankly as a fading image came into her mind, the words of dead slowly forming in her ears.
"I-I called it…..'Doctor'." She said finally, and Rory smiled and nodded and he held her hand firmly.
"That's right." He said, "Do you remember why—"
She tilted her head thoughtfully, "After a dream I had. The Doctor. . . . .-He was trapped in this pit." With a sigh, she brought her hand up to her forehead and closed her eyes, and she felt herself fade into the memory.
"A pit he fell into. He coerced me into dropping down next to him, and told me to give him a boost. I remember the orange ooze sipping through my fingers as he lifted his boot in my hands. He didn't weigh that much, I think though…."
Slowly, she opened her eyes to see the same ooze wrapping around her hand, and she turned to Rory, yet only saw a dark, brick-like wall, and suddenly she was surrounded by it.
Her eyelids fluttered from the light that shined above her, and she looked up to see a hand reaching down to her.
"Come along, Pond!" He shouted with a wide smile. "Oh, it's only Phlarctyic excretion! Think of it as perspiration from your armpits, 'cept it's really nothing like that; bad example! Whatever you do though, Pond, don't wipe it off on your clothes, it'll never get out and you'll have Kiliorises flocking you like the plague…...'cept not really like the plague. More like a bunch of small little sloth-like creatures wishing to cling to your arms and pump their Anaphlorctyic excretion duplicate through your blood stream until all you can think of are banana-like Hoors."
"Don't wipe it on my clothes, got it."
As their hands gripped together, the ooze squeezed and gurgled through her fingers.
"Glehhhhh!" She exclaimed, and her face turned into a glare when she saw his soundless laugh spread across his face. "Oi, you think this is funny, yeah?" Amy positioned her foot against a brick, to help as he would pull her up, and in the moment he readied his weight, she slightly hung her head and the shadows hid her smirk, and her other hand lifted as far up as she could to grip against another brick.
"Ready?" His excitement was entirely obvious in his voice, with a subtle wave of anxious stinging bursting on his skin from her hand as it desperately clutched his, the matter of him rescuing her, his Amelia Pond, successfully. (Even though technically it was again his fault for the need of it)
She lifted her face, and his shoulders lightly buckled at the sight of her eyes glimmering from the single ray that shined through his hair, he swallowed dryly when he believed her to be looking at him with lust.
Suddenly, their first kiss flashed in his mind, and his mind raced with ideas of how to deal with a reprise of the situation, and he played the rescue in his head, laying on his stomach, pulling her up, her toppling on top of him, her breath on his jawline, the burning trail for his lips. He thought himself to stop it before it got that far, but there was no doubt he'd never truly trust himself when push came to shove.
Her smile grew as she watched him squirm, she never had before, and it exhilarated her to only continue in the quiet moment of her looking at him like that.
"Doctor?" She said slowly enunciating with her damp lips, and he blinked somewhat frantically and bore a nervous smile as he raised his eyebrowless mounds in question. They shared the weight for a moment, and she faked a strain as he readied himself again, and she gripped tightly the brick above her head, biting her lip as he looked at her and wordlessly counted to three. How his skin tortured him and his spine anxiously quivered.
With a single move, his mind played the rescue in his mind again, and he disregarded his failure of refraining, her lips against his and her tongue sliding through his mouth as he hesitantly held her waist. They both blinked, and before he could open his eyes, he felt something topple over him. Yet it wasn't the frame of her body, and it didn't slowly scramble off of him, and it didn't remain against him out of lust.
The Doctor jolted from the pool of Phlartyic ooze, shaking his mouth from the amount that seeped through his teeth and the shock of it causing him shoot backwards, slamming his back against the wall, and a flash of lightning overtook his sight.
"Bloody fuck!" His outburst spewed a modest mouthful of it out. He continuously slapped himself in the face with one hand as the other scraped its fingers through his slimed hair and Amy's bursting laugh filled through the pit's echoing silence.
He looked to her with his wide eyes, a mixture of betrayal and shock, and he slowly reached for his bowtie, releasing a heartbroken sigh as he fingers felt it soaked.
Before he could speak, she arched an eyebrow him, and he suddenly saw through his interpretation of a lustful look. He assumed the "I'm going to fuck you" expression was going to be literal, and but her leaning against the curved wall, she couldn't be any more delighted from the alternative.
"Well done, Pond." He said humorlessly. "You finally ruined my bowtie." And he murmured under his breath as his head turned from her. "Among other things…"
Immediately, Amy took advantage of his detached gaze, and quickly muttered, "I hope you're athletic, Doctor. 'Cause I'm not quite done getting your hearts racing."
His eyes drifted to her, and he hated himself for being one of those persons, who took every comment the wrong way, yet she made him into one of them, and he hated it all the more for her abusing it.
Amy effortlessly scaled up the wall, reaching the bricks that were slightly standing out from the others, and before he could run up to stop her, she pulled herself up, and her hair flew over the pit as she turned to look down at him.
"Ooh, Doctor." She pouted, and then quickly gave him a fake, hopeful expression, "Wait, I know! Use your screwdriver!" She nodded as he scowled at her. "Oh, come on, Doctor. You had already planned to use it before, yeah?"
"Very amusing." He replied dryly.
"I think I'll go in the TARDIS, Doctor. Get me a change of clothes." She pretended to wipe dust off her shoulders and his frustration almost buried the feeling prompted by her standing in the light, her hair shining like fire and her eyes goading him.
"You don't have the key!" He announced smugly, and fished his hand in his coat pocket, retrieving the gold key and presenting it with a proud smile.
"And you don't have your sonic." Amy pulled the side of her jacket open, revealing his sonic screwdriver, its head poking out of her pocket. "Besides, I've only seen you use that key like one time."
The Doctor stifled in his stance, and his eyes narrowed, "She doesn't know you." He said in a justifying tone, his hands on his hips, and his head lightly motioning towards the direction of his precious TARDIS, optimistically believing that his old girl would defend him.
"Aren't I that orange-y girl? And don't you just do this?" She leaned on one leg, and lifted her right arm in the air, snapping with a grand motion.
Immediately, the TARDIS door creaked open, and a smile spread across her face as he tried to bury the nervous expression that was clear on his. She backed away from his view, and his tongue had some sort of spasm outside of his mouth.
"A-Amelia!" He shouted, and the door creaked shut. "AMELIA POND, YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME HERE. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO FLY THE TARDIS, YOU IMPOSSIBLE GINGER!"
"Oh, I'm sure she'll teach me, Doctor!" She shouted back and her voice bled her smile, and he helplessly pushed against the wall as the sound of raspy breathing of the TARDIS shrouded around the pit.
He stood there a bit dumbfounded, and his hands fell from his hips and he awkwardly hung his head, "She stole my companion." He said quietly, touching his hair. "She always did want a ginger."
Amy stood around the console, running her hand across the various doodads and what's-its. She smiled as the TARDIS brought a live image of the Doctor frantically trying to climb up the wall on the scanner, sharing in her fun game of torturing him.
"How about we take our time?" She said quietly, the smile not wavering as she watched him curse at the wall and fish through his coat pockets, throwing a weird assortment of knickknacks at it. "Let's give him hell, sexy."
Immediately, the TARDIS chirped flirtatiously, and several levers at a time began whirring and jolting from side to side, and Amy found her usual seat as its shaking grew in confidence.
She felt her surroundings slowly fade, and she was saddened as the purring of the TARDIS was nothing more but a faint whisper; and all that was left was a single, defiant thought.
"Getting back at you for shoving your disgusting boots in my hands? Cool."
Amy blinked through the darkness, and she opened her eyes to see Rory standing over her, with a combined look of concern and relief. She had finally woken up, and she found herself lying in a white bed, in a white room, with a stone-faced nurse standing by the door.