Fic #5: And I'm The Only One That's Here
Title: And I'm The Only One That's Here
Author: miracleofmercy
Characters: Amy & Rory
Rating: G
Disclaimer: The Beeb and the Moff own it, I just borrow.
Summary: Amy hates being needy but misses Rory anyway.
Author's notes: 1713 words. Written for Challenge 04 at she_is_to_me. Set between The Eleventh Hour and The Beast Below. Flying unbeta-ed this time. *crosses fingers* (Frankly, it took ages to write past the first paragraph. Amy Pond was a stubborn one this time! :p)
And I'm The Only One That's Here
You only know what I want you to
I know everything you don't want me to
I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back
The less I give the more I get back
- Poison & Wine, The Civil Wars
Amy Pond had been staring at the blue ceiling of her room for about half an hour. She was all alone on a Friday night, with nothing exciting to do, not even the prospect of donning one of her costumes and going to a party. There was nothing to see on telly and the cinema was closed for repairs -- repairs which had been a month long in the works. Aunt Sharon was off at one of her night jaunts which Amy had never really cared to find out about. Amy was, by all accounts, bored out of her wits.
She rolled over and grabbed her mobile off the nightstand, laid back down and started pressing the keys by memory before the realization hit her: Rory's not here. She groaned in frustration before tossing the phone aside, staring again at the very blue ceiling. She was so used to Rory always being around that she never questioned it. Not this time, though. He was off at some community nursing workshop all the way in Ipswich, and would only be back on Monday night. He had promised to call her that night, but he was probably too busy right now. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. He'd only been gone this morning and already she missed him like crazy.
YOU can always call him.
"No." Amy's voice pierced the stifling silence, surprising herself out of her stupor. If there was one thing she hated, it was being needy. Rory would probably be thrilled by the fact that she called, but she would know it was because she was bored and lonely and needed someone. She sat up abruptly. Stop moping, she told herself. Amy Pond does not mope. Amy Pond would take charge of the situation and get something going. There were probably a million things she could do without Rory around. There's the basket full of clean washing that she had not sorted out. The stack of photographs she had had developed earlier in the day that needed to be kept. There were the wedding invitations waiting to be filled in with the names of guests (although she probably should wait for Rory for that).
She willed herself to get off the bed and padded to the basket of clothes lying behind her bedroom door. Taking a moment to switch on the radio, she then proceeded to sort the shirts and skirts, various coloured stockings and pants, all folded into its own pile. She wasn't exactly the neatest girl in the world, but at least this gave her something to do and stopped her pining for Rory. That is, until she found one of his shirts at the bottom of the basket, the one he had left behind after accidentally spilling a plate of chips all over his front. He had fussed about the difficulty of getting the grease stains out, insisting on immediately putting it in the wash to salvage the shirt. It meant that he left the house later with only his jacket because the shirt could not dry in time, but at least the shirt was saved. Amy smiled at the memory. She picked up the shirt and held it against her face, breathing in the smell of Rory. Even after the copious amounts of washing detergent used to remove the smell and stain of grease and chips, underneath it all there was still Rory. It made her miss him even more.
Call him!
Her innate stubbornness making her refuse to call him, she compensated by pulling Rory's shirt over her head and slipped her arms into its long sleeves. She got up from the bed and started moving the folded clothes into her wardrobe. Her wedding dress hung from one open door, resplendent in all its brilliant whiteness and the subtle layers of lace decorating its front. Contemplating on the dress would make her think of Rory again, and frankly the thought of actually getting married made her nervous sometimes, so Amy moved on instead to the stack of photographs sitting on her table. She picked up the photographs and some empty albums, moving them to her bed. She grabbed a felt-tip marker and started going through the photographs, cataloguing and writing behind the photographs the times and places they were taken at. The costume party for Jeff's 23rd birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson's 25th anniversary. The village summer fete just past. The last Bank Holiday weekend with Rory on Barry Island.
Another sigh escaped Amy's lips. Everything was reminding her of Rory tonight. She put away the rest of the photographs into the albums, keeping only the snapshots of Rory and her in Barry. She also took out one photo from the stack from Jeff's party, where Rory had dressed up as a Roman centurion because she'd begged him to. She slid that particular snapshot into the Roman storybook on her nightstand, a perfect place to keep it, she thought. She laid back on the bed on, made herself comfortable against the pillows, looking through the other photographs slowly. There was Rory, dozing off at the beach on Barry Island while she surreptitiously took pictures of him sleeping. The pair of them standing in front of the picturesque little inn they had stayed at. Dozens of pictures of her making faces at the camera. Rory, looking adorably nervous before boarding a rollercoaster but still giving her two thumbs up.
Silly boy. A wry grin crossed her face.
I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.
Without a second thought, she picked up the marker and started writing the letters on her fingertips, alternating between one hand and the other such that they formed the words she was thinking about. "I MISS YOU" now decorated her hands in strong black ink.
"I miss you so much that I'm wearing your shirt and drawing on my fingers, Rory Williams," Amy said out loud. "This is getting ridiculous." She paused. "And now I'm talking to myself." She stared at the words written across the fingers.
I miss you.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Resigned to the fact that she would probably spend the rest of the night sighing and inwardly moaning and missing Rory a lot, she turned off the radio, picked up her mobile and dialled his number. She bit her lower lip in anticipation as she waited for him to answer.
"Hello?"
“Rory?”
“Amy! Hi!” There was a sort of a hullabaloo at his end, as if he was standing in the middle Leicester square surrounded by a mob of people. “Hang on, just a sec.”
She could hear him talking to someone, many yells of “good night” and “see you tomorrow”, and it went on for a good half a minute before there was considerably less noise. She had half a mind to put down the phone because it certainly seemed like a bad idea to call him in the first place now.
“Hello? Amy? You still there? Sorry, sorry. Ooof!”
“Rory?”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry, fell over my bag." Some muffled yelps of pain. "I'm in my room now. Hello.”
She could hear the smile in his voice, the simple hello suffused with so much gladness and love. She laughed silently his usual clumsiness, and replied with a big smile on her own face. “Hello.”
“I was going to call you soon, we just got back. A local doctor took us down to some famous eating place and things got a bit late.” His voice got a bit muffled again. “Sorry, just taking my shoes off. Ugh. There.”
Amy closed her eyes and imagined Rory, never realizing how much she missed even the simplest things he usually did. “So you’re having a good time there?”
“Yeah, it’s been great. Only been a day though, we’ll probably be bushed after tomorrow. We’re gonna visit some out-of-the way village to do medical checkups, should be good work.” He stopped for a moment, concern creeping into his voice. “Are you okay? Did anything happen?”
“No, no, just wanted to call and talk. You know, you’re away, I’m here, you’re not. And so on.” Amy didn’t really want to say that she missed him; it would sound so needy.
There was a long pause on the other end. He was about to say something when she quickly interrupted. “Soooo, I sorted the pictures from Barry earlier. Let’s just say, my fingers and the words “Barry Island” are very well acquainted now. I was thinking to start on the wedding invites too, but that can wait till you come back.”
“You can start without me, you know,” Rory replied.
“No, we should be in agreement about it, and we probably should not invite any warring factions or there’ll be a food fight at the reception.”
“Amy, I don’t think there are ‘warring factions’ in Leadworth.”
“You never know,” she answered with grin in her voice. She shifted her position on the bed. “I’m wearing your shirt right now. The one you spilt the chips on. Spotless and smelling heavenly now. Told you there was nothing to fuss about.”
“Amy Pond, laundress extraordinaire.” Rory laughed, and Amy found herself wishing so much that he was back in Leadworth with her. “So are you alright, you know, being alone tonight? Aunt Sharon’s probably out till late, isn’t she? You’re going to be okay there?” It was as if he could read her mind.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine." That was the honest answer really. Just listening to his voice even for just a bit was doing wonders for her. "Listen, you’ve got more stuff tomorrow so I probably should let you go to sleep now. I’ll go read a book or something before bed. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll call. Promise." Amy could actually hear the smirk in his next words. "Gonna sleep in my shirt?”
“Maybe.”
“Brilliant.”
“Shut up.”
“Love you.”
“Love you.”
The call ended, Amy found herself staring at her fingers again. Oh what the heck, I AM needy tonight. Taking up her phone, she set the camera timer, took a snapshot of her graffitied hands and sent it to Rory’s phone. The return text came seconds later.
“I MISS YOU TOO.<3 ”
* * *
Author: miracleofmercy
Characters: Amy & Rory
Rating: G
Disclaimer: The Beeb and the Moff own it, I just borrow.
Summary: Amy hates being needy but misses Rory anyway.
Author's notes: 1713 words. Written for Challenge 04 at she_is_to_me. Set between The Eleventh Hour and The Beast Below. Flying unbeta-ed this time. *crosses fingers* (Frankly, it took ages to write past the first paragraph. Amy Pond was a stubborn one this time! :p)
And I'm The Only One That's Here
You only know what I want you to
I know everything you don't want me to
I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back
The less I give the more I get back
- Poison & Wine, The Civil Wars
Amy Pond had been staring at the blue ceiling of her room for about half an hour. She was all alone on a Friday night, with nothing exciting to do, not even the prospect of donning one of her costumes and going to a party. There was nothing to see on telly and the cinema was closed for repairs -- repairs which had been a month long in the works. Aunt Sharon was off at one of her night jaunts which Amy had never really cared to find out about. Amy was, by all accounts, bored out of her wits.
She rolled over and grabbed her mobile off the nightstand, laid back down and started pressing the keys by memory before the realization hit her: Rory's not here. She groaned in frustration before tossing the phone aside, staring again at the very blue ceiling. She was so used to Rory always being around that she never questioned it. Not this time, though. He was off at some community nursing workshop all the way in Ipswich, and would only be back on Monday night. He had promised to call her that night, but he was probably too busy right now. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. He'd only been gone this morning and already she missed him like crazy.
YOU can always call him.
"No." Amy's voice pierced the stifling silence, surprising herself out of her stupor. If there was one thing she hated, it was being needy. Rory would probably be thrilled by the fact that she called, but she would know it was because she was bored and lonely and needed someone. She sat up abruptly. Stop moping, she told herself. Amy Pond does not mope. Amy Pond would take charge of the situation and get something going. There were probably a million things she could do without Rory around. There's the basket full of clean washing that she had not sorted out. The stack of photographs she had had developed earlier in the day that needed to be kept. There were the wedding invitations waiting to be filled in with the names of guests (although she probably should wait for Rory for that).
She willed herself to get off the bed and padded to the basket of clothes lying behind her bedroom door. Taking a moment to switch on the radio, she then proceeded to sort the shirts and skirts, various coloured stockings and pants, all folded into its own pile. She wasn't exactly the neatest girl in the world, but at least this gave her something to do and stopped her pining for Rory. That is, until she found one of his shirts at the bottom of the basket, the one he had left behind after accidentally spilling a plate of chips all over his front. He had fussed about the difficulty of getting the grease stains out, insisting on immediately putting it in the wash to salvage the shirt. It meant that he left the house later with only his jacket because the shirt could not dry in time, but at least the shirt was saved. Amy smiled at the memory. She picked up the shirt and held it against her face, breathing in the smell of Rory. Even after the copious amounts of washing detergent used to remove the smell and stain of grease and chips, underneath it all there was still Rory. It made her miss him even more.
Call him!
Her innate stubbornness making her refuse to call him, she compensated by pulling Rory's shirt over her head and slipped her arms into its long sleeves. She got up from the bed and started moving the folded clothes into her wardrobe. Her wedding dress hung from one open door, resplendent in all its brilliant whiteness and the subtle layers of lace decorating its front. Contemplating on the dress would make her think of Rory again, and frankly the thought of actually getting married made her nervous sometimes, so Amy moved on instead to the stack of photographs sitting on her table. She picked up the photographs and some empty albums, moving them to her bed. She grabbed a felt-tip marker and started going through the photographs, cataloguing and writing behind the photographs the times and places they were taken at. The costume party for Jeff's 23rd birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson's 25th anniversary. The village summer fete just past. The last Bank Holiday weekend with Rory on Barry Island.
Another sigh escaped Amy's lips. Everything was reminding her of Rory tonight. She put away the rest of the photographs into the albums, keeping only the snapshots of Rory and her in Barry. She also took out one photo from the stack from Jeff's party, where Rory had dressed up as a Roman centurion because she'd begged him to. She slid that particular snapshot into the Roman storybook on her nightstand, a perfect place to keep it, she thought. She laid back on the bed on, made herself comfortable against the pillows, looking through the other photographs slowly. There was Rory, dozing off at the beach on Barry Island while she surreptitiously took pictures of him sleeping. The pair of them standing in front of the picturesque little inn they had stayed at. Dozens of pictures of her making faces at the camera. Rory, looking adorably nervous before boarding a rollercoaster but still giving her two thumbs up.
Silly boy. A wry grin crossed her face.
I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.
Without a second thought, she picked up the marker and started writing the letters on her fingertips, alternating between one hand and the other such that they formed the words she was thinking about. "I MISS YOU" now decorated her hands in strong black ink.
"I miss you so much that I'm wearing your shirt and drawing on my fingers, Rory Williams," Amy said out loud. "This is getting ridiculous." She paused. "And now I'm talking to myself." She stared at the words written across the fingers.
I miss you.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Resigned to the fact that she would probably spend the rest of the night sighing and inwardly moaning and missing Rory a lot, she turned off the radio, picked up her mobile and dialled his number. She bit her lower lip in anticipation as she waited for him to answer.
"Hello?"
“Rory?”
“Amy! Hi!” There was a sort of a hullabaloo at his end, as if he was standing in the middle Leicester square surrounded by a mob of people. “Hang on, just a sec.”
She could hear him talking to someone, many yells of “good night” and “see you tomorrow”, and it went on for a good half a minute before there was considerably less noise. She had half a mind to put down the phone because it certainly seemed like a bad idea to call him in the first place now.
“Hello? Amy? You still there? Sorry, sorry. Ooof!”
“Rory?”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry, fell over my bag." Some muffled yelps of pain. "I'm in my room now. Hello.”
She could hear the smile in his voice, the simple hello suffused with so much gladness and love. She laughed silently his usual clumsiness, and replied with a big smile on her own face. “Hello.”
“I was going to call you soon, we just got back. A local doctor took us down to some famous eating place and things got a bit late.” His voice got a bit muffled again. “Sorry, just taking my shoes off. Ugh. There.”
Amy closed her eyes and imagined Rory, never realizing how much she missed even the simplest things he usually did. “So you’re having a good time there?”
“Yeah, it’s been great. Only been a day though, we’ll probably be bushed after tomorrow. We’re gonna visit some out-of-the way village to do medical checkups, should be good work.” He stopped for a moment, concern creeping into his voice. “Are you okay? Did anything happen?”
“No, no, just wanted to call and talk. You know, you’re away, I’m here, you’re not. And so on.” Amy didn’t really want to say that she missed him; it would sound so needy.
There was a long pause on the other end. He was about to say something when she quickly interrupted. “Soooo, I sorted the pictures from Barry earlier. Let’s just say, my fingers and the words “Barry Island” are very well acquainted now. I was thinking to start on the wedding invites too, but that can wait till you come back.”
“You can start without me, you know,” Rory replied.
“No, we should be in agreement about it, and we probably should not invite any warring factions or there’ll be a food fight at the reception.”
“Amy, I don’t think there are ‘warring factions’ in Leadworth.”
“You never know,” she answered with grin in her voice. She shifted her position on the bed. “I’m wearing your shirt right now. The one you spilt the chips on. Spotless and smelling heavenly now. Told you there was nothing to fuss about.”
“Amy Pond, laundress extraordinaire.” Rory laughed, and Amy found herself wishing so much that he was back in Leadworth with her. “So are you alright, you know, being alone tonight? Aunt Sharon’s probably out till late, isn’t she? You’re going to be okay there?” It was as if he could read her mind.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine." That was the honest answer really. Just listening to his voice even for just a bit was doing wonders for her. "Listen, you’ve got more stuff tomorrow so I probably should let you go to sleep now. I’ll go read a book or something before bed. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll call. Promise." Amy could actually hear the smirk in his next words. "Gonna sleep in my shirt?”
“Maybe.”
“Brilliant.”
“Shut up.”
“Love you.”
“Love you.”
The call ended, Amy found herself staring at her fingers again. Oh what the heck, I AM needy tonight. Taking up her phone, she set the camera timer, took a snapshot of her graffitied hands and sent it to Rory’s phone. The return text came seconds later.
“I MISS YOU TOO.<3 ”
* * *