We have reached the end! Holy. I have really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you guys liked it. Spoilers! SO MANY SPOILERS! FOR EPISODES 12 and 13! So you guys in North Amercia, don't read if you don't want to be spoiled. I plan on writing more Amy/11 stuff when I get back from Europe in 5 weeks, so please, send me prompts! I would love some! Thanks again for reading! Don't cry too hard!
See you in December
-Kate
Disclaimer: I don't own any characters mentioned, BBC does.
I.
He stares at her from the corner of his eye, and just watches. She has that look of wonder and excitement and fear on her face, and the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. It's really not the time, but he doesn't know how much longer they have. He knows that in fantasy, they have forever together, but he knows reality in this situation. He's so tired of pretending for her, because it's not fair. He can't keep holding her when she cries for the man she doesn't know. He can't keep covering up whenever Rory's name slips past his lips. He can't keep holding himself back because he loves her.
But she's broken.
God, she's been broken since he met her on that cold day when she was so little. Her eyes were so bright, but so sad.
She had lost so much, and gained nothing. And she didn't even know.
"Does it ever bother you, Amy, that your life doesn't make any sense?"
II.
He remembers, and he suddenly forgets what he has to do, and what he's holding, and he drops it. A loud clang, and he's back beside Rory.
He looks him over, his mind racing with possibilities of how the impossible happened. He's embarrassed by the fact that he's so happy to see the guy again, but the urge to hug is passed. He's thankful that maybe this will help the passion he has, and he can just be. The lonely doctor, it's who he is, was.
He isn't so sure anymore.
He tries to brush away the small part of him that is screaming with anger. Of course, Amy's sweet hero is there when needed most. He never was. It's something Rory always had over him. Always will. The fourteen years that cost them.
He wishes he could take it back.
"Well, I died and turned into a Roman. It's very distracting."
III.
He knows. Then and there what has to happen. His heart flutters a little with a hint of panic. Death? Full death. No regenerations, no second chances. Just… black.
But then he looks at her, and he feels better. If she stays alive, alive and happy, his death would be worth everything. Every single moment. She's going to have parents and a husband and eventually kids. He imagines little Amelia, with her bright eyes staring up at him.
God, he'll miss her.
"Well, we are running into a dead end, where I'll have a brilliant plan which basically involves not being there anymore."
IV.
His breath is coming out more harsh and raspy, and he knows he doesn't have much time left.
He doesn't even register what he's saying anymore, he's just thinking. He's thinking about the girl in front of him. He's thinking of the moment he fell in love.
Just a hug. Or that's what he used to tell himself. A tight, thankful hug that meant so much more. Just a hug, as he falls in love.
"Gotcha."
The words fall, and he sees her cry. He wants so bad to reach out and wipe away the tear, but he has to go. More running to do. The finish line is so close, and he can't bare to watch her cry.
And so he leaves, rocketing into the falling universe.
Because he's not going to fix the world.
He's going to fix the broken little girl.
V.
He takes her hands into his. This is the one chance he gets, and damn it, he's going to make it count. He knows how scared she is right now, how vulnerable. He wants to say that everything will turn out fine, and that in a few hours she'll be trying to get him in bed. The memory hurts him, and fire begins to burn in his heart.
"Remember what I told you when you were seven."
"What did you tell me?"
"No. No that's not the point. You have to remember."
She feels the brush of the tweed jacket against her arm.
She never makes the connection.
VI.
She looks beautiful in her dress. Her hair burns against the white, and it suits her perfectly. He watches them dance together, swaying to the soft music. He doesn't let himself feel jealous, because he's just happy to be there.
But he knows he would look so much better in Rory's suit.
Later, when the newlyweds are asleep, he just sits alone in his control room, the lights on the panel blinking at him furiously. He's alone again, and it hurts him so much. He pats the side of the wall, and his ship hums in agreement.
"You look good in a suit."
She's standing at the bottom step in her nightie, arms folded over her chest. He lightly smirks, but sadness fills him.
"Thanks."
She runs up to him then, and hugs him tightly. He buries his face in her hair and breathes in her smell.
"What happens now?" She mutters into his chest. He sighs.
"You and Rory travel with me, and then you will eventually leave me, and have kids." He feels her shake her head.
"We won't leave."
"Yeah, you will. And I don't mind. Because you two will shine so bright, it won't matter if you have me or not."
She looks up into his eyes and smashes her lips against his. He breaks for a moment and grips her waist tightly. He pulls away first, pain staring into pain.
"Is this it then?" She whispers against his lips.
"Yes."
She gives him a sad smile, turns quickly and rushes up the stairs. She doesn't look back. She never will.
And he doesn't expect her to.
And the tears come streaming down your face Lights will guide you home
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
End.