clomoo
in
eleven_amy
fic: Neverland
Title: Neverland
Characters: Amy Pond, Rory, allusions to The Eleventh Doctor
Rating: U
Words: 342
Summary: Set after the Doctor saves the world in twenty minutes, Amy waits.
Disclaimer: Alas the beeb own Doctor Who and not me.
A/N: un-beta'd
A metallic echo clanged in the garden. Amy’s eyes darted to the window, even though it couldn’t be and never was the sight she wanted.
The rusted garden rake had merely toppled over and drummed against the swing’s poles.
“He’s not coming back you know,” Rory said unhelpfully, sitting across from her in the kitchen.
He followed her gaze wearily every time there was even a rustle in the bushes. Even when there was a knock at the door, she fruitlessly leapt up. It was clear to him that the Doctor never knocked on doors.
Amy pressed the corner of her toast between her fingers, “I wasn’t-“ she replied defensively, removing her gaze from outside. She looked at Rory with wide-eyed insistence.
“You were and you always are,” Rory corrected having covered this ground before. He stacked their plates and slid them into the sink.
“He will come back,” Amy said, turning in her seat and standing. She sounded like a child clinging onto the notion of Santa.
She saddled up to the window, taking one last just-in-case look. Rory pretended not to notice as he dabbed at the plates with a cloth.
*
“Wednesday, what about Wednesday?” Amy asked.
It had been almost two years. Seven hundred and twenty three days. He was gone.
Rory mumbled sleepily next to her.
“For the wedding,” she said staring up at the uncracked ceiling, “I think Wednesday,”
A smile stirred Rory out of his drowsiness, “Sounds good. Can we organise it in time?”
“Of course,” she said, “Village Hall could have us tomorrow,” she mused, “Another possibility,”
“Wednesday,” he laughed, “Wednesday is fine,”
Amy closed her eyes. She was growing up.
She was Wendy, saying goodbye to Peter and Neverland. As a child she’d destroyed her VHS of that too familiar story, ramming it in the video player the wrong way and watching the tape shred. That was her goodbye to fairytale hopes and dreams. And the wedding would be none of that.
Silence rang in her eardrums as she sunk off to sleep.
Characters: Amy Pond, Rory, allusions to The Eleventh Doctor
Rating: U
Words: 342
Summary: Set after the Doctor saves the world in twenty minutes, Amy waits.
Disclaimer: Alas the beeb own Doctor Who and not me.
A/N: un-beta'd
A metallic echo clanged in the garden. Amy’s eyes darted to the window, even though it couldn’t be and never was the sight she wanted.
The rusted garden rake had merely toppled over and drummed against the swing’s poles.
“He’s not coming back you know,” Rory said unhelpfully, sitting across from her in the kitchen.
He followed her gaze wearily every time there was even a rustle in the bushes. Even when there was a knock at the door, she fruitlessly leapt up. It was clear to him that the Doctor never knocked on doors.
Amy pressed the corner of her toast between her fingers, “I wasn’t-“ she replied defensively, removing her gaze from outside. She looked at Rory with wide-eyed insistence.
“You were and you always are,” Rory corrected having covered this ground before. He stacked their plates and slid them into the sink.
“He will come back,” Amy said, turning in her seat and standing. She sounded like a child clinging onto the notion of Santa.
She saddled up to the window, taking one last just-in-case look. Rory pretended not to notice as he dabbed at the plates with a cloth.
*
“Wednesday, what about Wednesday?” Amy asked.
It had been almost two years. Seven hundred and twenty three days. He was gone.
Rory mumbled sleepily next to her.
“For the wedding,” she said staring up at the uncracked ceiling, “I think Wednesday,”
A smile stirred Rory out of his drowsiness, “Sounds good. Can we organise it in time?”
“Of course,” she said, “Village Hall could have us tomorrow,” she mused, “Another possibility,”
“Wednesday,” he laughed, “Wednesday is fine,”
Amy closed her eyes. She was growing up.
She was Wendy, saying goodbye to Peter and Neverland. As a child she’d destroyed her VHS of that too familiar story, ramming it in the video player the wrong way and watching the tape shred. That was her goodbye to fairytale hopes and dreams. And the wedding would be none of that.
Silence rang in her eardrums as she sunk off to sleep.