fic: to love would be an awfully big adventure
to love would be an awfully big adventure. amy/eleven, pg, 1160 words. "All children, except one, grow up." Written for this prompt at the Series Five Ficathon.
Amy has been fairly certain all of her life that the Doctor was real. It doesn't matter that she hasn't seen him again; all that counts is that she remembers him.
And every once in a while, she will see a shadow pass along her wall and while she's a bit frightened, it is always a reminder that the Doctor is real and that one day, he will come back for his shadow.
He hasn't gotten any older since the last time she saw him. He's still running around in the torn up suit, looking for that blasted shadow that lurks in her house.
"How hard is it to keep track of a bloody alien?" she yells as they sprint.
"Quite surprisingly hard. It seems to have been a little while since the last time I saw it."
"Not my fault," Amy grumbles.
"No, you're right, it's not," he says, fiddling around with his sonic screwdriver. "But that doesn't make it any easier to find it."
"Why don't you just sew it on to you, or something," Amy mumbles. "That's the best way to keep track of a shadow."
He looks at her, an odd smile on his face. "Yes, yes it is. Unfortunately, we should probably find it first."
The next time she sees him, she's in her nightie, about to drift off to sleep.
The sound comes through her window, and she jumps out of bed, rushing straight to where the sound is coming from. She peers out through the glass and sees the blue box.
It's beautiful, she thinks, and she's never been so happy to see something in her entire life.
I knew you'd come back.
"So, we'll be back in time for tomorrow, right?" she asks again, as the Doctor parks the TARDIS in space.
"What is so special about tomorrow, Pond?" He turns around to look her in the eyes.
She looks timidly down at her hands. She thinks for a moment, trying to find the best way to describe it to him. "Tomorrow is the day I grow up," she says.
He looks at her, and then goes to flick a switch on the control panel. "Well, we can't have that!"
"What?" she asks, as he turns around.
"Do you want to fly?"
"Where are you from, Doctor?" she asks him one day.
"What?" he says absentmindedly, tinkering around with something on the TARDIS.
"Where are you from?" she repeats, not bothering to elaborate.
He looks up at her, and his face is relaxed - his eyes looking at her in a melancholy way.
He smiles. "'Second to the right, and straight on 'til morning.'"
She doesn't have to ask what that means.
"Brilliant! I'm brilliant," he says as he flicks a few more switches. "This will all be fixed in no time!"
Amy folds her arms and tries not to pout, but she can't help it. "Of course, I did nothing."
"Well, you did a little," the Doctor answers as he focuses his attention on the small little metal switches.
"You cocky bastard!" Amy exclaims, trying to keep her voice light and teasing but unable to remove all the hurt from it. "I did just as much as you and you know it." She turns away and tries not to look at him.
"Oh, Amy. Amy, brilliant Amy. Of course you did," he says, looking at her. He takes a few steps toward her. "Amelia Pond, you are one of the most brilliant young women I have ever met, and I have met quite a few brilliant young women."
"You're just saying that to make me feel better. I didn't actually do anything," she mumbles as she presses her toes into the floor.
"Amy, I would never lie to you. Not ever, and especially not about this. You are a fascinating, brilliant young woman."
She looks over at him. "Do you really mean it?"
"Of course."
She turns around and gives him a tight hug. As she draws back, she doesn't unlink her arms from around his neck. "I'll give you a kiss, just for that."
"A...a what?"
"A kiss, stupid," she says playfully.
"I know what it is, I just...nevermind. How about this - how about, I give you a kiss," he says.
"Oooh, Doctor," she teases, and then giggles.
He leans down toward her and she closes her eyes. But all she feels is his breath on her cheek and something cold and small being pressed in her palm.
She open her eyes and looks at it closely. It's a warm red color, with a letter she can't read on it.
When she looks up, he's already back to the control panel.
"Thank you," she says softly.
For a long time after she wears it on a chain around her neck.
The air is warm, the dew sweet, the grass a perfect shade of lemon green. They're stargazing, in the middle of the day, and her heart skips a beat at the tranquility of it all.
"Is this what you'll do forever?" she asks. "Do you ever, like, grow up? Get older?"
He turns his head to her. "Why would I want that?"
"I dunno. Wisdom and all that stuff? I wouldn't really know."
"It's not all it's cracked up to be. Personally, I think that's a myth that older people spread to comfort you about the fact that one day you'll grow up," he says, turning his head back to the sky.
"That's a bit depressing."
"Yes, well, so is growing up."
They lay there for a little while, and Amy thinks, as long as I'm with the Doctor, I'll never have to grow up tomorrow.
Tomorrow comes all too soon.
She doesn't want to leave him, but she knows she should; she knows it's time. She holds the amulet around her neck as they stand outside the TARDIS, parked in her front yard, where it was when she was a little girl.
After all the adventures, all the fighting and winning and saving they've done, she finds it hard to leave everything behind. Because leaving him means leaving her childhood, and she's not sure she can do that just yet.
"Um...goodbye," she says, trying to keep herself from crying.
He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "'Never say goodbye, because goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting.'" He brings her into a hug. "And I will never forget you, Amelia Pond."
He eventually leaves, after much crying on her part and quite a lot of reassurance on his that one day, he'll come back.
(She's not quite sure if it will be for her. She knows that by then, she'll have grown up long ago.)
Every night she looks out her window, because she never said goodbye to him; and goodbye means forgetting, and she never wants to forget the boy who taught her to fly and would never, ever grow up.
Amy has been fairly certain all of her life that the Doctor was real. It doesn't matter that she hasn't seen him again; all that counts is that she remembers him.
And every once in a while, she will see a shadow pass along her wall and while she's a bit frightened, it is always a reminder that the Doctor is real and that one day, he will come back for his shadow.
He hasn't gotten any older since the last time she saw him. He's still running around in the torn up suit, looking for that blasted shadow that lurks in her house.
"How hard is it to keep track of a bloody alien?" she yells as they sprint.
"Quite surprisingly hard. It seems to have been a little while since the last time I saw it."
"Not my fault," Amy grumbles.
"No, you're right, it's not," he says, fiddling around with his sonic screwdriver. "But that doesn't make it any easier to find it."
"Why don't you just sew it on to you, or something," Amy mumbles. "That's the best way to keep track of a shadow."
He looks at her, an odd smile on his face. "Yes, yes it is. Unfortunately, we should probably find it first."
The next time she sees him, she's in her nightie, about to drift off to sleep.
The sound comes through her window, and she jumps out of bed, rushing straight to where the sound is coming from. She peers out through the glass and sees the blue box.
It's beautiful, she thinks, and she's never been so happy to see something in her entire life.
I knew you'd come back.
"So, we'll be back in time for tomorrow, right?" she asks again, as the Doctor parks the TARDIS in space.
"What is so special about tomorrow, Pond?" He turns around to look her in the eyes.
She looks timidly down at her hands. She thinks for a moment, trying to find the best way to describe it to him. "Tomorrow is the day I grow up," she says.
He looks at her, and then goes to flick a switch on the control panel. "Well, we can't have that!"
"What?" she asks, as he turns around.
"Do you want to fly?"
"Where are you from, Doctor?" she asks him one day.
"What?" he says absentmindedly, tinkering around with something on the TARDIS.
"Where are you from?" she repeats, not bothering to elaborate.
He looks up at her, and his face is relaxed - his eyes looking at her in a melancholy way.
He smiles. "'Second to the right, and straight on 'til morning.'"
She doesn't have to ask what that means.
"Brilliant! I'm brilliant," he says as he flicks a few more switches. "This will all be fixed in no time!"
Amy folds her arms and tries not to pout, but she can't help it. "Of course, I did nothing."
"Well, you did a little," the Doctor answers as he focuses his attention on the small little metal switches.
"You cocky bastard!" Amy exclaims, trying to keep her voice light and teasing but unable to remove all the hurt from it. "I did just as much as you and you know it." She turns away and tries not to look at him.
"Oh, Amy. Amy, brilliant Amy. Of course you did," he says, looking at her. He takes a few steps toward her. "Amelia Pond, you are one of the most brilliant young women I have ever met, and I have met quite a few brilliant young women."
"You're just saying that to make me feel better. I didn't actually do anything," she mumbles as she presses her toes into the floor.
"Amy, I would never lie to you. Not ever, and especially not about this. You are a fascinating, brilliant young woman."
She looks over at him. "Do you really mean it?"
"Of course."
She turns around and gives him a tight hug. As she draws back, she doesn't unlink her arms from around his neck. "I'll give you a kiss, just for that."
"A...a what?"
"A kiss, stupid," she says playfully.
"I know what it is, I just...nevermind. How about this - how about, I give you a kiss," he says.
"Oooh, Doctor," she teases, and then giggles.
He leans down toward her and she closes her eyes. But all she feels is his breath on her cheek and something cold and small being pressed in her palm.
She open her eyes and looks at it closely. It's a warm red color, with a letter she can't read on it.
When she looks up, he's already back to the control panel.
"Thank you," she says softly.
For a long time after she wears it on a chain around her neck.
The air is warm, the dew sweet, the grass a perfect shade of lemon green. They're stargazing, in the middle of the day, and her heart skips a beat at the tranquility of it all.
"Is this what you'll do forever?" she asks. "Do you ever, like, grow up? Get older?"
He turns his head to her. "Why would I want that?"
"I dunno. Wisdom and all that stuff? I wouldn't really know."
"It's not all it's cracked up to be. Personally, I think that's a myth that older people spread to comfort you about the fact that one day you'll grow up," he says, turning his head back to the sky.
"That's a bit depressing."
"Yes, well, so is growing up."
They lay there for a little while, and Amy thinks, as long as I'm with the Doctor, I'll never have to grow up tomorrow.
Tomorrow comes all too soon.
She doesn't want to leave him, but she knows she should; she knows it's time. She holds the amulet around her neck as they stand outside the TARDIS, parked in her front yard, where it was when she was a little girl.
After all the adventures, all the fighting and winning and saving they've done, she finds it hard to leave everything behind. Because leaving him means leaving her childhood, and she's not sure she can do that just yet.
"Um...goodbye," she says, trying to keep herself from crying.
He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "'Never say goodbye, because goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting.'" He brings her into a hug. "And I will never forget you, Amelia Pond."
He eventually leaves, after much crying on her part and quite a lot of reassurance on his that one day, he'll come back.
(She's not quite sure if it will be for her. She knows that by then, she'll have grown up long ago.)
Every night she looks out her window, because she never said goodbye to him; and goodbye means forgetting, and she never wants to forget the boy who taught her to fly and would never, ever grow up.