A/N: Okay, so I've seen the season finale, and I have the following responses: 1) I like River Song much, much more that I used to. 2) I SO saw some of that coming (won't do SPOILERS here, though) 3) Despite developments in the "real world" of DW, I remain steadfast in the storyline I have going here. Those of you who've seen the finale know exactly what I mean. Those of you who haven't...what the heck are you reading this for? Go get it. Now. That is what God made streaming video for, isn't it?
Dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask. ~X-Files
Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives. ~William Dement
All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams. ~Elias Canetti
I.
They were rummaging around in the TARDIS's copious kitchen stores when she found it.
"I don't believe it!" She held up the tin, looked at it in amazement, turned it over in her hands rapidly. "I haven't had this...in...forever. Not since I was a little girl." She narrowed her eyes, looked at the cupboard she'd found it in suspiciously. "This wasn't here yesterday when I was getting stuff for breakfast. I know it wasn't."
The Doctor glanced away from his own foraging absently. "Wasn't it? Hmm..."
"Doctor."
He put down the jar of strawberry preserves that he'd been contemplating and gave her his full attention.
"Yes, Pond? Now what is it?"
"This. This was not in here before. This could not have been here before, because, as I recall, they stopped making it years ago..."
"And?"
"And? And, well, how is it that it's here now?"
"I'm sorry. How long have you been rattling about here in the big blue box now?"
"That's not an answer."
"Isn't it?"
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. He was, as usual, completely unfazed.
"Okay. Okay, Pond. Haven't you noticed yet that the TARDIS sort of just...provides...things as needed?"
Amelia thought about the perfectly-fitting green swimsuit she'd been able to lay her hands on the day of that fateful swim, the clothing she'd just happened to find that fit her in a forgotten closet, the fact that the library had a whole shelf of her favorite author that she'd come across tucked away in a corner... It had all seemed like happy coincidence at the time, or at least nothing quite as overt as this.
"Yeah, she's usually a bit more subtle about things than this, granted, but I suppose this is just her way of...oh, I don't know...welcoming you into the family?" He smirked as he said it, his hand unconsciously coming up to rest lightly against the kitchen wall.
Amy looked down at the tin again, and thought about it for a moment. She seemed to be turning something over very seriously in her mind even as she was turning the small colorful tin over and over in her hands. She didn't see the Doctor's expression change, grow focused and intense as if he were concentrating on something, didn't see him tense slightly as he watched her. Then she smiled and shrugged and turned away toward the sink. He shook his head slightly, posture relaxing, a slight wariness remaining.
She looked back at him over her shoulder. "Well, if it comes with gifts, it can't possibly be a bad thing, right?"
II.
They sat eating and talking.
"So has she always gotten childhood and hometown favorites for everyone you've ever traveled with?"
"Everyone?" He had to stop and think about it. There had been so many... Good grief. How was he to remember what they took with their tea? He sorted through the memories, careful as always, because the vast majority of them were sharp-edged like broken glass, cutting him by accident just with the handling. He looked down at his own teacup, lifted it, lightly swirling the brown liquid inside gently, unable to stop the mixture of fondness and sadness that swelled inside him as he remembered all those beautiful souls who had stood beside him. All those who were now gone, many of them forever...
"No," he said softly. "No, she doesn't do it for everyone. She only seems to put the effort out for the ones she really likes. I remember..." He paused, took a sip of tea, was silent for a long time.
Amy held her breath. She barely dared to move. He never spoke of his past except in the vaguest of terms. Would he do so now? A minute slipped by, two...
His voice came again, somewhat grudgingly, as if he would rather not say it. "I remember, for example, she never really came to care for Leela. I suspect that was rather mutual, for of course, even though she tolerated the TARDIS as sort of a necessary evil, Leela would have considered anything she offered her very much 'Tesh' as she called it, and therefore untrustworthy." He smiled at a memory of the fierce young woman with a yo-yo standing in the control room trying to keep the magic blue box going... "Ah, Leela. Always running about with those nasty Janis thorns and that knife." He eyed Amelia. "She was a ginger, too, you know..."
Amy grinned. "Really? So, what? You've just been wandering around the universe collecting redheads?"
"Ah, well. Yes and no, Pond. Yes and no. There have been a couple of others, though." She heard the names Mel and Romana float to her as he spoke, but she let them pass. If he wanted to tell her those stories, he would... "Were bound to be at least a few of you lot around, I suppose, in 907 years..." His eyes grew distant as his mind wandered back down those long corridors of memory, and she saw that sadness growing again there. Some of that, she'd seen in the small flashes of him she'd shared during the bonding, more than enough to know why he carried such sorrow inside. Someday, maybe he would share the rest. For now, though, it was time to turn the conversation, if she could...
"What about you, then? Does the TARDIS carry your favorites, too? Stock in Time Lord treats for you?"
His eyes snapped to hers, and a painful smile crossed his lips. He paused before answering, shifting the cup in his hands.
"Ah. Again. That's a question requiring another yes and no answer, isn't it?. Yes, she does try to keep things I like available. She's a bit of a mother hen, really. Sometimes I will completely forget about food altogether if I get wrapped up in something, and she's always been a dear about sort of ...prompting me. At least, when she's not irritated with something I've done or not done, anyway. When she's not happy with the state of repairs and maintenance, I have the very devil of a time finding even a stale crust of bread, sometimes..." He shot a disgruntled look over at the innocuous seeming cupboards of the cheerful blue-and-white kitchen, seemed distracted...
Amy recognized this for what it was, a diversion. He did not want to pursue the "no" answer. He wanted to be allowed to let it slide away into darkness and oblivion. She could feel the stress coming from him, could see it in the fingers that were nervously fidgeting with the edge of the table.
But this is important. This is something I need to know, I think...
"And the no?"
He sighed. "The no. Well, as to the no, I would have to say that she doesn't stock in my childhood and hometown favorites the way she has done for my companions because..." He stopped again.
"Because?" She asked it gently.
When he spoke again, his voice was low and filled with despair. "Because she can't, Amy. Because there's no place for her to pull it from. And she would if she could, believe me. Because not only am I the last of my kind, the last of the Time Lords, but because my home, my whole world is gone from time, from forever." His fingers had gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. "And, of course, it's gone because of me, isn't it? Because I destroyed them all, sent them all screaming into oblivion. Twice, actually. Although, I suppose it could be argued that the final time, I had a bit of help..."
Unable to bear the pain she felt from him she pulled her chair beside his, putting her hand over his, seeking to give him some comfort by physical touch. He started at the touch, almost as if he had forgotten that there was anyone else in the room, and he looked down at her hand on his for a moment as if he had never seen anything like it before. Then, with effort, he let go of the table's edge, turned his hand over, and linked his fingers with hers tightly. She did not move to embrace him. She knew instinctively that he would shatter.
"Wish you could have seen it, Pond, back before the War began, back before..." His voice cut off suddenly, and his hand pressed hers. He was still staring down at their joined fingers.
"Tell me about it, then. Tell me about your home." Don't think about the end. Think about...think about the beginning. Think about the middle. Tell me any part of the story you can stand, Doctor, but don't think about that other part at all...
Her voice recalled his wounded, distant gaze to her own, and she willed him strength and love and comfort in whatever form she had within her to give for a hurt so grievous as the one he was carrying inside him. Some of him seemed to come back to her, and he ran his thumb over her knuckles. He could feel her, was appreciative. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, tried to reclaim himself from that ever-present void that yawned inside him, that silence that used to be filled with all the voices of all the minds of all the Time Lords of Gallifrey...
"You've actually seen...Gallifrey" Hard to say it. So hard to say it, still. Would that ever ease? "...once. Well, sort of."
She looked at him in confusion. "What? When? You said that..."
He smiled ever so slightly, the ghost of his usual grin when he presented her with an impossible tangle to sort out.
"Well, okay, it wasn't a physical destination, but I was there in the only way I ever can be again, and you just happened along in that impossible way of yours..."
Understanding dawned. "It was the place, wasn't it? With the red grass and the silver tree? Where we..? Where you...? The first time that...?"
For the first time in too long for a man who was constantly moving, constantly full of humor even when it was inappropriate, he smiled. "Back to those tantalizingly unfinished sentences are we, Pond?"
She colored a little, tossed her hair, determined not to think about that right now. "So it was a real place, then?"
"Yes. It was my dream of...home. That field was near where I grew up, actually. It was a special place for me, a bit of a refuge, I guess. When I dream of ...what was...when I dream well of it, that is, as opposed to the more-common nightmares, I frequently go there, especially if I am tired or sad or in need of some peace to recharge myself somewhat."
"It was beautiful," she said softly.
He squeezed her hand. "Yes. It was. There was never any place like it. I suppose everybody feels that way about home, but I've been everywhere, Pond, and I've never seen anywhere as lovely as that old planet when she was at her best." He paused a moment, looked at her seriously. "I am happy you got to see it with me, even if it was only in that way, only inside one of my dreams." He reached out with the fingers of his free hand and traced them over her cheek softly.
She smiled at him, turned her face into his hand, kissed it lightly. Then a thought occurred. She looked at him curiously. "So...if it was your dream..."
"Yes?"
"How did I wind up in it? I've certainly never been to Gallifrey. How could I dream of a place I've never been to?"
"The bond, Amelia. It was the beginning of the bond. We were sleeping side-by-side, so we had physical contact working for us, and also there was definitely the groundwork already there for a bond in place from our previous...um...encounter. The thing is, I had largely choked off that tenuous connection between us with my mind when Rory appeared. I think you probably felt that."
She nodded.
"However, you are nothing if not tenacious. Somehow, you used what was left to track me down in the Armory. I suspect the TARDIS of collusion in that little endeavor." He glanced at the ceiling briefly. "But when you were lurking about in the darkness and I stopped focusing on the fencing, I realized I could feel you in there. It was much stronger than it should have been given that I had shielded that bond, left it tied neatly off, as I thought, to wither and die. When you came looking for me, somehow you sort of shoved the connection between us back open. That's how I knew you were having nightmares, too. It came to me through that re-opened connection."
She stared at him. "I what? How could I even do that? I don't know how to do that!"
He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of hers. "I don't know, impossible Pond. I don't know. I have a couple of theories, but right now, I don't care to speculate. You are..." He waved his free hand around vaguely. "...stronger than you know. You are...a mystery wrapped in an enigma. You are...a veritable army of cliches, apparently." He stood up, tugged her lightly to her feet. "Which is, of course, why I choose to keep you around. Come on. I think we need to go get cleaned up. Unless I'm wrong, which, as you know I almost never am..."
Amy snorted loudly.
"...we will be arriving on Rishell fairly soon. We can talk about this other stuff later. I have a few theories that I'd like to explore with you, but it's not an urgent thing."
They walked down the hall still holding hands, swinging them back and forth lightly. As they reached the door to her room, Amy turned and looked up at the Doctor.
"Doctor, this thing I have...this ability or whatever. It's not something I need to be worried about, is it?"
The Doctor tilted his head and gazed down at her for a moment, thinking about the stillness in her head, those moments when her mind went absolutely quiet for him...
"No, no, Pond. Nothing at all to worry about. I'm sure everything will be fine...just fine."
III.
Amy came into the control room just as the Doctor was finalizing the landing. She watched him dance around the console twisting knobs, flipping switches, and she felt the joy in him. It was such a contrast to the bottomless sorrow he'd been immersed in only an hour or so ago.
He didn't tell me all of it yet. There is more. But that's okay. He told me as much as he was able. He told me something. For the very first time.
She was aware of the weight of that, the value of that, of how much it had cost him to do it. She wanted there to be a time for the two of them to go back to that quiet place of incarnadine grass and listen to the wind sing in the silver leaves again. She would sit with him and let him tell her stories of when he was young. As he frolicked in front of her, she tried to picture what a young Doctor at play might have looked like.
I'm guessing except for the physical, not too much different...
He released the monitor, turned around, and saw her, eyes alight with happiness.
"Ms. Pond, your own personal magic kingdom is right outside those doors, complete with Rishellians of the High Empire, who, I beg you, please remember, not to call elves, Amy, castles with walls of silver and gold, and monsters of myth and legend." He flipped one last switch, turned and stood with his elbow crooked for her to slip her arm through. "Ah-ha! Yeah! Shall we go and see what sort of trouble we can find to get ourselves into today?"
He can't resist the adventure, the lure of what might be, the call of the new experience. Even though he was reluctant before to come here, now that we are here, he's just as excited as I am...
She took a skipping step down to where he stood near the console, grinning just as widely as he. "Oh, let's, Doctor. Let's."
She slipped her arm through his, and they raced for the doors of the TARDIS.