Hello, my beautiful/handsome readers/writers!
I return for the Ninth Day of Christmas…slowly but surely I'm catching up. Today (the 4th) is technically the Eleventh Day of Christmas, so I have a couple more to go. Fortunately, I know what the other one-shots are going to entail (somewhat), which should make writing them a bit easier and faster.
By the by, there is this AMAZING author who writes brilliant Tentoo fanfics (I'm sort of going into a Tentoo-obsessive phase at the moment). His/Her username is BookkepperThe, and I'll leave you to go find his/her material and read it. The ones that I ended up reading and favoriting are as follows:
Perchance to Dream
Chance Encounters
Public Relations
Duality
Seeing and Perceiving – this one especially, as it deals with Tentoo and his relationship with Tony :D
So…I'll leave you with that as you wait for my long-over updates. There is some language in these stories, so be warned of that when you go to read them. It's sparse, though, and doesn't dampen the fanfictions to a point where they're ruined.
God bless and Merry Christmas!
ThePro-LifeCatholic
Writing Prompt: 9th Day of Christmas
Characters: 11th Doctor, Rory Pond (Williams?), Amelia Pond
Shippings: Amy/Rory
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Friendship/Family/Christmas-y
Rating: K
Note: This takes place after that little ending scene of The Doctor, the Widow, and the Wardrobe, when the Doctor goes to the Ponds' house for Christmas dinner.
On the Ninth Day of Christmas
The Doctor let me see:
A proper Christmas Dinner
Trees falling over,
A sled ride down a mountain
Tea after Midnight
SURPRISE SNOW FIGHTS!
Carols from the Past
Mugs of Hot Chocolate
A new red bike
And a small Babe asleep in the hay.
After Amy invited the Doctor into the house, she flew in the direction of the kitchen. Her exclamations about the stuffing in the oven cause the Doctor to chuckle. He picks up the discarded water pistol and makes his way into the interior of the house.
He sees that they've done some re-decorating since he saw it last; it's been touched and now it glows with the warmth of a happy family. Rory rushes down the stairs, and the Doctor notices that he and Amy are wearing matching ugly sweaters.
"Merry Christmas, Doctor!" Mr. Pond cried, pausing to give the Doctor a huge hug. Then he noticed the weapon in the Doctor's hands.
"Mind if I see that?" he asked innocently. Without much thought, the Doctor relinquished the water gun. Rory disappeared down a hallway, and it isn't long before Amy's high-pitched shrieks reveal that the pistol has found a new purpose.
The Doctor made his way slowly to the kitchen, still immersed in a feeling of surrealism. The table-cloth under his hands seems real enough, and the chair he slides onto is firm under his weight. But it's like some amazing dream; even the smell of charred stuffing – combined with the delicious aroma of baked goodies – doesn't entirely convince him that he, of all people, was sitting down to a family dinner.
Rory emerges, dripping and laughing, from the kitchen. He's carrying glass mugs, which he sets oh-so-carefully down on the tabletop. He slides one over to the Doctor and grins.
"So, finally decided to come around, then?" he asks, taking a sip of the hot-chocolate-and-coffee-hybrid-beverage in his own cup. "I don't know if Amy told you this, but we expect you every year."
Instead of answering, the Doctor traces the frills on the table with one finger. His vision blurs, and a large tear squeezes from his right eye. It weaves its way down his cheek, leaving a wet trail in its wake. Rory doesn't miss it, and the smile on his own face fades.
Have they done something wrong? He knows how broken, how old and cold and tired the Doctor is. What sort of adventures has he been on? Was there some fresh loss, invisible wounds still bleeding that he hadn't told them of?
The Doctor reaches up and wipes away the tear. Then he licks his finger, savoring the bitter, salty taste. Rory gently, gingerly, reaches over and takes a hold of the Doctor's hand.
"Is everything alright?" he asks tentatively, softly. "Like, really alright?"
The Doctor smiles and looks up at Rory. He blinks rapidly, trying to focus on Mr. Pond's fuzzy outline. Then he nods and gives him a thumbs up. His smile is a watery one, and he wouldn't trust his own voice at the moment.
"You sure?" Rory isn't quite persuaded. "If you'd rather leave…"
But he can't finish his statement, because just then the Doctor laughs. It's a pitiful chuckle at best; a strangled half-sob at its worst. He grips Rory's hand tightly, as if afraid that it would slip away if he didn't hold it hard enough. He chuckles again (the only alternative would be crying) and tears course down his face in two small streams. They splash and stain the tablecloth.
Rory waits for the Doctor to collect himself. That whole time, he doesn't release his grip. After only a few long seconds does the Doctor finally get a hold on himself. Using the tablecloth as a tissue, he wipes his face clean and sniffs loudly once, twice. Rory's concerned expression, mixed with compassion and patience, makes him want to start crying again. He concentrates on holding back the next flow, which he feels is waiting to tumble over and begin the process anew.
"Rory…" he starts. He stops, waiting until he's certain the tremble in his voice is gone. "…It's been so long since I've had…" The Doctor motions to his surroundings, at a loss for words to describe what he'd once been a part of. "…Since I've had a house, and a Christmas dinner and…and a family."
He desperately hopes that he's not sounding like a sentimental moron. But Rory Pond isn't mocking him or turning up his nose at him. He's listening intently, and the Doctor takes comfort in getting rid of this nagging burden.
"I'm not sad," he says carefully. "I'm…happy. So, so happy." Another tear slips, unbidden, down his cheek. Almost angrily, he swipes it away and stares accusingly at the wet mark on his fingertips.
"Oh," is all Rory can think to say. He's seen and heard so many things from the Doctor, but most of it was rubbish, empty coverings to shield what lay beneath. For a short, rare moment, Rory has seen beyond the façade that his friend had crafted so masterfully.
"Doctor!" Amy's voice carries into the dining room. "Wanna help me with the gravy?"
Rory shoves his chair back. "I'll go," he says. He gives the Doctor's shoulder a friendly squeeze before exiting the room. The Doctor leans back in his chair, listening to the snippets of contented conversation that fill the house. His thoughts wander to a time years ago; Christmas turkey being sliced, a family seated around a table; laughter, Christmas crackers, and paper crowns.
"Humany-wumany" he mutters. Then he smiles, picks up his cup, and takes a sip of the hot beverage.
And here we have some Rory and Doctor being together and sharing a moment. I really like Rory, and I felt like he was rather underrated in the episodes. Which makes me kind of disappointed. Ah, well. He's still a great character.