NonAngel

[flypaw]

Word Count: 2073
Summary: The Doctor knows Amy's strong enough. She doesn't know that he is also the Destroyer of Worlds, but she never needs to. He knows she'll be the only one he'll leave untouched.
Pairing: Amy Pond x Eleventh Doctor

 

Non-Angel.

I thought... well, I started to think you were just a madman with a box.

Amy Pond

Amy knew the risk she was taking ever since she had decided to say 'yes' to the Doctor. It wasn't as if it had been a terrible decision, she'd been ready to go with him from the moment he had stepped inside of her house, at her kitchen table, and dipped his fish fingers in custard.

There was no single reason why she had done it, really. The Doctor had been next to her, his eyes dancing around the room as he spoke, hardly fixed on anything unless it was really important.

They'd fixed on her a lot during the last few hours, when he had left her in the forest on the Byzantium, when he asked her if she trusted him, even when her eyes were closed. She was important then because she had an Angel in her. She was important and she had known he would be staring at her.

But there was someone else who was important, and while Amy hated to acknowledge the fact that - yes - it could have been down to jealousy, but the deepest, nastiest reason probably was due to that green monster.

The Doctor shared something with River Song. Amy knew they had a future (or past, present, it was never distinguishable with the Doctor), but the Doctor was hers, her raggedy Doctor. She had spent years waiting, remembering the night she sat on her suitcase, cold and alone, waiting for her raggedy Doctor to return.

She had opened her eyes for the first time since the Weeping Angels had gone when she set foot on the sandy beach of Alfava Metraxis, a pace behind River and the Doctor. She respected River, liked her even, but in that moment she felt cheated. She had faced the Weeping Angels, crawled through them, blind. River had been with the Doctor the whole time, and she understoon everything. For all that she was, Amy was just a human, and hatred directed at River Song had welled up in that tiniest of moments.

Which made her feel terrible. River could handle the Doctor with ease and charm, negotiating the TARDIS even. She was a wonder-woman, amazingly clever, talented, attractive... poor old Amy Pond could hardly compare to her, could she?

Amy had sat while River was handcuffed, standing defiantly alone while the Doctor breezed over to Amy. Amy was huddled on a rock, blanket wrapped around herself tightly while everyone else was fine.

Was she so weak?

The Doctor had laughed at her, his eyes dancing again as he looked into her eyes, away to the side, her eyes again and then stared. His gaze was unlike any she had ever seen before. At first it was a curious gaze, like any you see on a person, but then you could scratch the surface to reveal a vortex of emotions. For all his supposed wisdom, the Doctor was never any good at hiding the things he felt.

Trusting the Doctor was hard. It went against every single instinct she had, to simply place all her trust in one man. Then again, when had he ever failed her (not counting the two times he had promised to be back and vanished, for years), and when had she ever come close to death?

Having an Angel inside of her couldn't count as death, could it? She wouldn't have been Amy anymore, but she wouldn't have died. The Doctor hadn't been clear about that either, hadn't been willing to tell her the truth.

But hadn't he said that was why she needed to trust him? Amy wasn't sure she could trust him anymore than she could right now, or had done negotiating the Angels.

The Doctor was a free spirit, wild and uncontrollable. Amy had made one mistake, when setting the starwhale free, and the Doctor had been angry. She wasn't supposed to tell him what to do, what to think, save him from making decisions... but that wasn't in her nature.

She was little Amelia Pond, the weird orphan with the imaginary friend. Only Rory had believed her, but that was more out of liking her than actually believing her. She had had to stick up for herself, face four psychiatrists until it was accepted that, maybe, she couldn't be 'cured'. People then had humoured her, laughing at her attempts to explain the eating habits of her raggedy Doctor.

Amelia, little Amelia Pond, had saved people from making terrible decisions all her life. She had been prepared to take the bullying as long as it saved Sally from across the road from being teased because of her new glasses. Amy had been happy to be pointed at, whispered at, if it meant that Thomas, Mrs. Smith's son, would be left alone, even after missing so much school.

It was all in day's work to Amy. Meeting the Doctor, for real, fourteen years after he first left her, and going away with him had been like nothing she could imagine. He was new, even the Doctor had admitted that to her, and he was so very strange.

Making the decision had been easy. They had been inside the starwhale, she had seen it play with the children. Things had made sense, the starwhale was harmless, it loved the children, it had come to earth...

In a movement she had taken power away from the Doctor. He had been angry - furious - but they had returned to the TARDIS together and he had left her alone.

Hours later, the Doctor had returned from the depths of the TARDIS and apologised for his anger. Not the words, just the anger.

He couldn't afford to regret.

Nor could Amelia Pond.

So she had seduced him, pushed him against his beloved TARDIS and kissed him. He had pushed her away, reasons so far as he was an alien, nine hundred and seven years old, she was getting married, she was a human.

Amy said she didn't want anything long-term. Which was true; with the Doctor, even after their short period of travelling, Amy knew nothing was certain. Her twist with the Angels had proved that, if anything.

But the Doctor's attention was on her. Fully on her. Not because she had something in her visual cortex, or because she had done something he despised. Not because she was a lost child, or an angry woman who had simply been ditched.

She was Amy Pond, devilish woman. She was the same woman who had handcuffed the stranger in her home, not wanting to believe he was the raggedy Doctor and yet seeing him with hope in her heart. She was untamable to any except one man, alien, Time Lord...

The atmosphere broke as glass does when struck and Amy once again became something of a science project, the Doctor's mind never resting. She didn't want to be a puzzle for him to solve, not this time.

He pushed her into the TARDIS, his hand unusually forceful. Despite the times Amy had been pushed or pulled around by the sheer exuberance of the Doctor, he had never been so rough.

"Amy, Amy Amelia Pond."

His voice was low, dangerous.

"We'll sort you out," he said, tongue flickering out to his bottom lip. Amy knows why, it's not because he was nervous or because he was hungry for food. Just this once, away from the real world, maybe he's going to indulge.

So she kissed him again, and all sense of reluctancy is lost. For once, the Doctor submitted, and Amy, triumphant in her goal, tilted her head back, hair cascading down her back in a line of red fire.

For this one moment, they're so much more than just the Doctor and his companion.

Amy Pond, there's something you better understand about me, 'cause it's important and one day your life may depend on it. I am definitely a madman with a box!

The Doctor

The Doctor looks down, the internal war inside of him calming for a moment. Amy's asleep, her head tilted into the pillow and her mouth slightly open. It's not flattering at all, but the Doctor doesn't mind.

He remembers for a moment the close friendship he had with Donna, and knows that his friendship, companionship, with Amy will change. Donna was really the only one of his recent companions who didn't have feelings for him, and for that he was thankful.

It had hurt to leave Rose (even though she was happy now), it had hurt to watch a friendship with Martha crumble as she walked away, shaking her head as she stated she couldn't do it anymore. She was happy too now, and he was glad she had Mickey.

Donna had been a friend, calling him on his failings, joking and laughing. She had trusted him so much... and it had hurt to leave her without her memories. He felt true regret then, tears welling as he left yet another person damaged from his presence.

That was what the Doctor did, after all. It was what Davros had shouted out at him, finger pointed as he committed genocide. Even if the Daleks were back, it didn't change the fact that he was the Destroyer. Amidst the split of himself, Doctor-Donna and the other Doctor, it was clear who he would become, what his next regeneration would be like.

A Time Lord could only move on. Despite having a TARDIS, despite being fabled in Gallifreyan law, for all his power, the Doctor could only move forward in his personal timeline. What he would become, what he had become through regeneration, could very well be the Destroyer of Worlds.

Yet here she was, curled in his bed, tucked away in his sheets, all pale and alive as she should be. She was breathing with her human lungs, her single, lone heart.

Maybe that was why he could stand so many people leaving. The Doctor had never believed in silly metaphors as a broken heart, but humans only had one heart. The pain he felt... he could cope. He had two hearts, maybe humans really were so fragile, despite their ability to keep on living.

Amy moves slightly, her hair shifting under her head, spreading on the pillow cover like a halo of orange fire. She was nearly an Angel. So very close, frighteningly so. The Doctor doesn't know what he would have done if she had turned to stone, become one of them. He does suspect, though as with all of his companions, that he would die a little. Never had any of them trusted him as much as Amy had, faced with the infallable Weeping Angles.

The Angels were deadly. One of the most dangerous creatures in the whole of time and space. Amy had come so close to death, yet slipped through, eyes closed and human heart throbbing.

No one had trusted him so much. Despite what she thought, the Doctor knew Amy Pond was amazing.

It couldn't last, not when she had the nurse to go home to. She would be marrying him tomorrow, in three days, a year maybe, or perhaps it was months ago? It was hard to tell when the time vortex was constantly throbbing inside of your brain.

Whenever it was, she would go back to earth and the Doctor would return to his future (because there was only a future and a present with the Doctor, the past was as locked as the Time War), a future with the mysterious River Song (who would die, destroyed because of him and just like all the rest).

Amy was beginning to wake and the Doctor allowed the whirlpool in his head to calm, emotions spreading through his human-shaped body like warm water drizzling from a shower.

They would carry on together, doing whatever it was they would do, being whoever they could be together, whatever they could be, but they would always have this private, peaceful, moment.

Just as Amy opened her eyes, a smile crept her face as the TARDIS' internal glow (much like sunlight, the TARDIS knew of the Doctor's love of earth) shone on her cheeks. There was something about Amy Pond that he would never be able to destroy, no matter what Davros had called him. She was the first, possibly the only one, and he could allow this moment of weakness.

As he kissed her softly, the Doctor wondered if it had something to do with her hair, the fiery halo of his non-Angel. Amy deepened the kiss, knowing exactly what it would lead to, and the Doctor allowed his mind to still for the second time in less than twenty four hours.

He had always had a weakness for gingers, after all.

Amy Pond, you are magnificent, and I'm sorry.

- It's okay. I understand. You've got to leave me. -

Oh, no, I'm not leaving you, never.

Amy Pond and the Doctor.