Doctor Who fic: Echoes (3/10)
Title: Echoes (3/10)
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Eleven, Amy, Rory, Amy/Rory
Timeline: Post-"Death of the Doctor" and post-"A Christmas Carol" and pre-"An Impossible Astronaut"
Summary: The Doctor runs into an old enemy, and an old friend, when the TARDIS lands in 18th century Scotland.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to the BBC.
A/N: Once again, a big thank you to my beta punch_kicker15. You rock!
Chapter One. Chapter Two.
Rory handed the Cyberman head to Amy, like they were playing a bizarre game of Pass the Parcel. He hurried into the house where the injured lay without looking back and a part of her forgave him. He was a trained medical professional after all; she couldn’t blame him for focusing on the well-being of the wounded townsfolk.
Another part of her wanted to drop kick the Cyberman head into the next county. The head was lifeless but so had been the other one at the Underhenge until it decided it wanted her as its next body.
“Ye’ve cursed us.” The boy, the Doctor had called him Cameron, glared at Amy. “Ye’ve brought back the metal men.”
She didn’t appreciate the evil eye he was giving her. Feeling inspired, she dropped the Cyberman head into the boy’s arms. He let out an unmanly yelp and promptly dropped the head. It was so heavy it didn’t roll; it just sat in the dirt, looking up at Cameron. Amy wandered off to join the Doctor, trying to hide her smile.
Her smile faltered when came up next to the Time Lord. He had gone eerily still, like he was a tweed-clad statue, and he stared warily at the man in front of him. The Doctor wasn’t scared; he was surprised. Amy thought there wasn’t much in this universe that put the Doctor off-kilter and that was what surprised her the most. One man could unsettle the Doctor.
“Do I know ye?” asked the man. He regarded the Doctor with his own look of wariness, but he seemed genuinely curious of the new strangers as well. The man’s gaze shifted over to Amy and his eyes quickly flicked over her body. It wasn’t a lewd look; he seemed to be noting her style of dress, which, with her jeans, boots, and leather jacket, made her stand out quite a bit.
The Doctor blinked and like that, his confusion was gone, as though someone had flicked a switch. “No, sorry, you just reminded me of someone. And we’re not in league with the metal men. We’re here to stop them.”
Amy wasn’t convinced the Doctor had simply mistaken the man for someone else. He was old, really old, but his memory wasn’t that bad.
“Oh, aye.” The other man didn’t sound completely convinced other, but he gave the Doctor the benefit of the doubt. “Ye know something of these beasties?”
“Quite a lot, like yourself.”
The man stiffened and Amy thought for a second he might punch the Doctor, but though he remained tense, the man didn’t make a move. “I was told there was three of ye.”
“Our friend’s tending to your injured. He’s a trained nurse. I’m just called the Doctor.”
The man swayed slightly on his feet, but he quickly caught himself. He didn’t strike Amy as the type of man who was plagued with sudden dizzy spells. He had reacted to the Doctor’s name.
The moment passed before it could be commented upon. The man held out his hand to the Doctor. “James Robert McCrimmon. Jamie,” he insisted.
They shook hands, though the Doctor didn’t seem as enthusiastic as he usually was when he met someone new. What was going on here? wondered Amy.
She got so caught up in the larger mystery that she almost didn’t realize the Doctor was talking about her. He had introduced her to Jamie and she stuck out her hand before it became obvious she hadn’t been listening. Jamie had a strong handshake for a man of his age. His palms were callused but his fingers were long and elegant, like pianist’s. She could imagine he had been quite cute when he was younger.
“Help the wounded first, Doctor. We dinnae have much, but Cameron can fetch what ye need.” Amy highly doubted that now, given how she had scared the boy.
She thought Jamie would stay around to chat with the Doctor, but the man walked off without saying another word. He had a weariness to him, like he was carrying a heavy burden on his shoulders. He reminded her of the Doctor in a way.
The Doctor watched Jamie walk off. Amy always found it hard to tell what the Time Lord was thinking and this time was no different. His expression was blank but she thought she saw a glimmer of guilt in his eyes. She had seen a similar look from the Doctor when they were trapped in a dream world and Rory had “died”. The Doctor had felt responsible then for the hardship he put them through and he felt responsible now for Jamie for some unknown reason.
“We should help Rory.” The Doctor headed back to the house without looking at Amy. She easily kept pace beside him. “Or you can help Rory. I need to talk to the townsfolk.”
“So do you?” asked Amy. She had to know.
“Do I what?” They stopped outside of the house. Cameron had run off at some point, leaving the Cyberman head where it was on the ground.
“Know Jamie.” As a young girl, Amy used to think she was the only person to have met the Doctor, but she knew better now. “He travelled with you, didn’t he.” The Doctor didn’t say anything and that spoke volumes on its own.
Instead, he reached down and picked up the Cyberman head. “Stay here with Rory.” He seemed to be scolding her, like she was seven years old again. Amy hated it when he did that.
“This is a sleepy little hamlet in the middle of nowhere. You’re seriously expecting trouble?”
The Doctor had started to walk away but he turned back when Amy spoke. “Ask yourself something, Amy.” He held up the head so it was eye to eye with her. “Where’s the rest of the Cyberman?”
She blinked, unable to come up with an answer. The Doctor had her there. Cybermen didn’t need heads or arms to cause trouble.
With his point made, the Doctor stalked off, the Cyberman head swinging from his hand.
It was a stark change from his upbeat mood just ten minutes ago back in the TARDIS, further convincing her that the Doctor was hiding something. Amy was tempted to wander off and do some snooping of her own, but she didn’t want to leave Rory by himself. They had already run into Pitchfork Man and over-excited Cameron. The rest of the townsfolk could easily be just as jumpy.
The musky scent of unwashed bodies hit Amy full on when she entered the house. She mistakenly took in a breath through her nose and she caught a whiff of something else, too: blood.
She had visited Rory during one of his Casualty shifts once. Normally, Leadworth Hospital was a quiet place, but there were times when major accidents happened. A nasty pile-up outside of the village had flooded the hospital with trauma patients that night. The sight of blood didn’t bother Amy, but she couldn’t bear standing around and just watching. The chaos when there was an emergency was like a tornado. It could pick you up and spin you around if you didn’t get out of the way.
A base instinct told Amy to get out of the house and let the professionals work, but there was only Rory and a stout Scottish woman with dark brown hair. It seemed like she had only stopped by the house to deliver more hot water and some soap and now she was playing nurse. She ripped up fresh linen with single-minded determination.
The woman and Rory were tending to a man with a nasty leg wound. His injury was the source of all the blood and it had stained one leg of his trousers completely black. Rory’s hands were slick with blood as he tried to stop the bleeding.
He glanced up, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead, and he spotted Amy. His brow had furrowed as he concentrated on staunching the flow of blood but now his face lit up. “Amy!”
The ground around the cot where the man lay was littered with soiled bandages. She tugged off her jacket. “What do you need?”
“Take off my belt.”
At any other time, Amy would have smiled and gladly obliged. On this occasion, she paused. “What?”
“I need it to make a tourniquet.” He nearly snapped at her. With his hands pressed tight against the man’s thigh but the flow of blood not slowing, she couldn’t blame him.
Amy ran over. There wasn’t much room in front of Rory, but she had plenty of experience manoeuvring around him in tight spaces. Her fingers went through the familiar motions of undoing the buckle on Rory’s belt, distracting her from the deathly pale man on the cot next to her.
She and Rory were suddenly nose to nose as she straightened up to pull the belt free. The despair in his eyes made her heart sink.
“He was hit in the leg by some debris. It must have nicked the femoral artery. When I pulled it out…” Rory swallowed hard, choking on his words.
Amy didn’t have Rory’s medical training, but she knew him and the look on his face said it all. The man wasn’t going to make it. He was bleeding to death in front of their eyes.
She reached over, putting her fingers to the man’s neck. She searched for a pulse but there wasn’t one. If they had been back in the 21st century, maybe they could have done something more, but not here, not now. Amy gently tugged on Rory’s arm. His hands were still pressed to the man’s wound. “He’s gone,” she said softly.
The blood soaked fabric of the man’s trouser leg clung to Rory’s hands briefly before he stepped back. Blood had spattered past his wrists and onto his clothes, but he didn’t seem to care. Rory took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
“The people with cuts, burns, and broken bones I can help, but the others…” There were two other townsfolk, a man and a woman, stretched out on cots, unconscious and completely limp. “Her leg’s completely shattered. We’d probably have to amputate. And he’s probably got spinal damage, but I don’t want to risk moving him.”
Amy felt completely useless right then. They had all this knowledge from the future, but what good was it if they couldn’t put any of it into practice.
She linked her arm around Rory’s, resting her chin on his shoulder. She could tell he felt the same from the way his whole body sagged.
“Ye did yer best, sir.” The woman, largely forgotten until now, covered the man’s body with a blanket. Her eyes were ringed red with unshed tears but her calm composure held. “Will ye be needing anything else?”
Reminded that there were patients still alive, Rory stirred. He looked sheepishly between Amy and the woman. “I didn’t even introduce you.”
“You were a little busy,” said Amy, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. To the woman, she said, “I’m Amy, Rory’s wife.” It still felt strange, introducing herself as “Rory’s wife”. She had been “Rory’s girlfriend” for the longest time.
“Molly Mackenzie.” Molly glanced nervously around the room. “Supplies, sir?” She was holding it together in the presence of death, but she clearly wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
Rory stared thoughtfully at the remaining patients before replying, “Wood, long pieces but thin, for splints and a needle and some thread.” Molly fled from the house, the hem of her dress hiked up so she could run a little faster.
Stripping off his stained hoodie, Rory went to wash his hands clean. Amy slipped her jacket back on before joining him at the bucket of water. His hands didn’t shake, but he scrubbed vigourously with the soap until his skin was raw.
She kissed him on the cheek, wishing she could do more to comfort him. It was never easy watching someone die. She settled for distracting Rory instead. “I think the Doctor knows the man in charge of this place.”
The water in the bucket was light red by now and the soap a pinkish colour. “So we came here on purpose.” Rory dried his hands on a spare piece of linen.
“He didn’t recognize the Doctor.”
“So maybe they don’t know each other.”
“The Doctor was acting weird, weirder than normal. He knows Jamie, I’m sure of it. But here’s what I don’t get. How do you forget someone like the Doctor?”
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Eleven, Amy, Rory, Amy/Rory
Timeline: Post-"Death of the Doctor" and post-"A Christmas Carol" and pre-"An Impossible Astronaut"
Summary: The Doctor runs into an old enemy, and an old friend, when the TARDIS lands in 18th century Scotland.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to the BBC.
A/N: Once again, a big thank you to my beta punch_kicker15. You rock!
Chapter One. Chapter Two.
Rory handed the Cyberman head to Amy, like they were playing a bizarre game of Pass the Parcel. He hurried into the house where the injured lay without looking back and a part of her forgave him. He was a trained medical professional after all; she couldn’t blame him for focusing on the well-being of the wounded townsfolk.
Another part of her wanted to drop kick the Cyberman head into the next county. The head was lifeless but so had been the other one at the Underhenge until it decided it wanted her as its next body.
“Ye’ve cursed us.” The boy, the Doctor had called him Cameron, glared at Amy. “Ye’ve brought back the metal men.”
She didn’t appreciate the evil eye he was giving her. Feeling inspired, she dropped the Cyberman head into the boy’s arms. He let out an unmanly yelp and promptly dropped the head. It was so heavy it didn’t roll; it just sat in the dirt, looking up at Cameron. Amy wandered off to join the Doctor, trying to hide her smile.
Her smile faltered when came up next to the Time Lord. He had gone eerily still, like he was a tweed-clad statue, and he stared warily at the man in front of him. The Doctor wasn’t scared; he was surprised. Amy thought there wasn’t much in this universe that put the Doctor off-kilter and that was what surprised her the most. One man could unsettle the Doctor.
“Do I know ye?” asked the man. He regarded the Doctor with his own look of wariness, but he seemed genuinely curious of the new strangers as well. The man’s gaze shifted over to Amy and his eyes quickly flicked over her body. It wasn’t a lewd look; he seemed to be noting her style of dress, which, with her jeans, boots, and leather jacket, made her stand out quite a bit.
The Doctor blinked and like that, his confusion was gone, as though someone had flicked a switch. “No, sorry, you just reminded me of someone. And we’re not in league with the metal men. We’re here to stop them.”
Amy wasn’t convinced the Doctor had simply mistaken the man for someone else. He was old, really old, but his memory wasn’t that bad.
“Oh, aye.” The other man didn’t sound completely convinced other, but he gave the Doctor the benefit of the doubt. “Ye know something of these beasties?”
“Quite a lot, like yourself.”
The man stiffened and Amy thought for a second he might punch the Doctor, but though he remained tense, the man didn’t make a move. “I was told there was three of ye.”
“Our friend’s tending to your injured. He’s a trained nurse. I’m just called the Doctor.”
The man swayed slightly on his feet, but he quickly caught himself. He didn’t strike Amy as the type of man who was plagued with sudden dizzy spells. He had reacted to the Doctor’s name.
The moment passed before it could be commented upon. The man held out his hand to the Doctor. “James Robert McCrimmon. Jamie,” he insisted.
They shook hands, though the Doctor didn’t seem as enthusiastic as he usually was when he met someone new. What was going on here? wondered Amy.
She got so caught up in the larger mystery that she almost didn’t realize the Doctor was talking about her. He had introduced her to Jamie and she stuck out her hand before it became obvious she hadn’t been listening. Jamie had a strong handshake for a man of his age. His palms were callused but his fingers were long and elegant, like pianist’s. She could imagine he had been quite cute when he was younger.
“Help the wounded first, Doctor. We dinnae have much, but Cameron can fetch what ye need.” Amy highly doubted that now, given how she had scared the boy.
She thought Jamie would stay around to chat with the Doctor, but the man walked off without saying another word. He had a weariness to him, like he was carrying a heavy burden on his shoulders. He reminded her of the Doctor in a way.
The Doctor watched Jamie walk off. Amy always found it hard to tell what the Time Lord was thinking and this time was no different. His expression was blank but she thought she saw a glimmer of guilt in his eyes. She had seen a similar look from the Doctor when they were trapped in a dream world and Rory had “died”. The Doctor had felt responsible then for the hardship he put them through and he felt responsible now for Jamie for some unknown reason.
“We should help Rory.” The Doctor headed back to the house without looking at Amy. She easily kept pace beside him. “Or you can help Rory. I need to talk to the townsfolk.”
“So do you?” asked Amy. She had to know.
“Do I what?” They stopped outside of the house. Cameron had run off at some point, leaving the Cyberman head where it was on the ground.
“Know Jamie.” As a young girl, Amy used to think she was the only person to have met the Doctor, but she knew better now. “He travelled with you, didn’t he.” The Doctor didn’t say anything and that spoke volumes on its own.
Instead, he reached down and picked up the Cyberman head. “Stay here with Rory.” He seemed to be scolding her, like she was seven years old again. Amy hated it when he did that.
“This is a sleepy little hamlet in the middle of nowhere. You’re seriously expecting trouble?”
The Doctor had started to walk away but he turned back when Amy spoke. “Ask yourself something, Amy.” He held up the head so it was eye to eye with her. “Where’s the rest of the Cyberman?”
She blinked, unable to come up with an answer. The Doctor had her there. Cybermen didn’t need heads or arms to cause trouble.
With his point made, the Doctor stalked off, the Cyberman head swinging from his hand.
It was a stark change from his upbeat mood just ten minutes ago back in the TARDIS, further convincing her that the Doctor was hiding something. Amy was tempted to wander off and do some snooping of her own, but she didn’t want to leave Rory by himself. They had already run into Pitchfork Man and over-excited Cameron. The rest of the townsfolk could easily be just as jumpy.
The musky scent of unwashed bodies hit Amy full on when she entered the house. She mistakenly took in a breath through her nose and she caught a whiff of something else, too: blood.
She had visited Rory during one of his Casualty shifts once. Normally, Leadworth Hospital was a quiet place, but there were times when major accidents happened. A nasty pile-up outside of the village had flooded the hospital with trauma patients that night. The sight of blood didn’t bother Amy, but she couldn’t bear standing around and just watching. The chaos when there was an emergency was like a tornado. It could pick you up and spin you around if you didn’t get out of the way.
A base instinct told Amy to get out of the house and let the professionals work, but there was only Rory and a stout Scottish woman with dark brown hair. It seemed like she had only stopped by the house to deliver more hot water and some soap and now she was playing nurse. She ripped up fresh linen with single-minded determination.
The woman and Rory were tending to a man with a nasty leg wound. His injury was the source of all the blood and it had stained one leg of his trousers completely black. Rory’s hands were slick with blood as he tried to stop the bleeding.
He glanced up, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead, and he spotted Amy. His brow had furrowed as he concentrated on staunching the flow of blood but now his face lit up. “Amy!”
The ground around the cot where the man lay was littered with soiled bandages. She tugged off her jacket. “What do you need?”
“Take off my belt.”
At any other time, Amy would have smiled and gladly obliged. On this occasion, she paused. “What?”
“I need it to make a tourniquet.” He nearly snapped at her. With his hands pressed tight against the man’s thigh but the flow of blood not slowing, she couldn’t blame him.
Amy ran over. There wasn’t much room in front of Rory, but she had plenty of experience manoeuvring around him in tight spaces. Her fingers went through the familiar motions of undoing the buckle on Rory’s belt, distracting her from the deathly pale man on the cot next to her.
She and Rory were suddenly nose to nose as she straightened up to pull the belt free. The despair in his eyes made her heart sink.
“He was hit in the leg by some debris. It must have nicked the femoral artery. When I pulled it out…” Rory swallowed hard, choking on his words.
Amy didn’t have Rory’s medical training, but she knew him and the look on his face said it all. The man wasn’t going to make it. He was bleeding to death in front of their eyes.
She reached over, putting her fingers to the man’s neck. She searched for a pulse but there wasn’t one. If they had been back in the 21st century, maybe they could have done something more, but not here, not now. Amy gently tugged on Rory’s arm. His hands were still pressed to the man’s wound. “He’s gone,” she said softly.
The blood soaked fabric of the man’s trouser leg clung to Rory’s hands briefly before he stepped back. Blood had spattered past his wrists and onto his clothes, but he didn’t seem to care. Rory took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
“The people with cuts, burns, and broken bones I can help, but the others…” There were two other townsfolk, a man and a woman, stretched out on cots, unconscious and completely limp. “Her leg’s completely shattered. We’d probably have to amputate. And he’s probably got spinal damage, but I don’t want to risk moving him.”
Amy felt completely useless right then. They had all this knowledge from the future, but what good was it if they couldn’t put any of it into practice.
She linked her arm around Rory’s, resting her chin on his shoulder. She could tell he felt the same from the way his whole body sagged.
“Ye did yer best, sir.” The woman, largely forgotten until now, covered the man’s body with a blanket. Her eyes were ringed red with unshed tears but her calm composure held. “Will ye be needing anything else?”
Reminded that there were patients still alive, Rory stirred. He looked sheepishly between Amy and the woman. “I didn’t even introduce you.”
“You were a little busy,” said Amy, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. To the woman, she said, “I’m Amy, Rory’s wife.” It still felt strange, introducing herself as “Rory’s wife”. She had been “Rory’s girlfriend” for the longest time.
“Molly Mackenzie.” Molly glanced nervously around the room. “Supplies, sir?” She was holding it together in the presence of death, but she clearly wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
Rory stared thoughtfully at the remaining patients before replying, “Wood, long pieces but thin, for splints and a needle and some thread.” Molly fled from the house, the hem of her dress hiked up so she could run a little faster.
Stripping off his stained hoodie, Rory went to wash his hands clean. Amy slipped her jacket back on before joining him at the bucket of water. His hands didn’t shake, but he scrubbed vigourously with the soap until his skin was raw.
She kissed him on the cheek, wishing she could do more to comfort him. It was never easy watching someone die. She settled for distracting Rory instead. “I think the Doctor knows the man in charge of this place.”
The water in the bucket was light red by now and the soap a pinkish colour. “So we came here on purpose.” Rory dried his hands on a spare piece of linen.
“He didn’t recognize the Doctor.”
“So maybe they don’t know each other.”
“The Doctor was acting weird, weirder than normal. He knows Jamie, I’m sure of it. But here’s what I don’t get. How do you forget someone like the Doctor?”