Fic: We're All A Little Mad Here (7/8)
Part Six
A/N: I am immensely grateful to all of you who have read, commented upon and stuck with this story. Much love to themuslimbarbie, without whom this whole story would have never seen the light of day. Please enjoy this, and the last part will be up soon. As always, Doctor Who is not mine.
Every journey leads us to the same place eventually; Home - Chris Geiger
She feels fine. Better than fine, actually, she feels properly healthy for the first time in nearly six months.
When she wakes up, it’s after a comfortable night of sound sleep, and her head is clear.
She eats proper meals again. Sharon watches her empty her plate with enthusiasm, silently relieved.
The world sometimes feels too loud and too close, but really, that’s normal(ish) anyways. Really.
After a week of no meds, Amy feels better than ever.
After two weeks, she begins to wonder if this is what her life will be like now: all normal and boring.
But then, after nearly three weeks, she wakes up one morning, not to her alarm, but to a faint sound like engines echoing in her head.
She spends the day looking around, expecting to see the TARDIS around every corner. It doesn’t and she cries herself to sleep that night as silent tears wet her pillow.
She begins to give up hope that anything is ever going to be right, to be what she wants.
Sharon sees her becoming withdrawn, and suggests going for a walk ‘round the park. Amy goes, reluctantly. The grass is green and lush beneath her feet as she wanders.
There’s where Rory and I had our first kiss she thinks, and there’s where he told me he loved me. She’s crying again, she realises, sobbing like the madwoman everyone already think she is. It never happened, did it? Not really. We never walked these paths hand in hand - I was too busy being locked up in my head to be enjoying romantic afternoon walks.
She abandons her leisurely stroll, desperate to get home, get away from all the watching people she just knows are staring at her.
She’s running down the path, feet flying, her hair whipping behind her and tears still streaming down her face. She can hear the echoes of a familiar sound ringing in her ears, louder than her heaving breaths, getting louder still.
She doesn’t even see the cyclist.
She registers pain in her head.
Then, nothing.
The world goes dark.
...........
Sharon looks at her baby girl, curled up in a tangle of blankets in the bed, looking like she’s sleeping. If it wasn’t for the ugly bruise forming on her head - or the fact that she’s surrounded by nurses, doctors, and hospital noise - she might be able to trick herself into believing that all she’s doing is watching her child sleep after a hard day.
She reaches out, clasps a-too-cold-hand in her own, straightens the blankets around the small form of her niece, and takes a deep breath.
Once upon a time, she begins quietly, there was a little girl with flaming red hair.
Now, this was no ordinary little girl, because she could speak to all the animals that lived in the whole world, and they could talk back to her. Most animals were very kind, and helped the little girl with her homework, or finding her way when she got lost. But there were some animals who were not very nice at all. These animals tried to trick the little girl into getting into trouble and mischief. So the little girl had to learn to recognise the sneaky creatures, and to not let them trick her into doing anything silly. She got very good at knowing that her neighbour’s pet mouse was not to be trusted, or the rabbit belonging to the kind old lady who gave the best sweets to all the children in her village. She learned that animals are very much like adults, and that they sometimes say things that might not be true if it is better for the children to believe a kind lie.
Sharon pauses in her story, trying to remember the ending to the little tale that Amy had loved as a raucous six-year-old. But the words won’t come, stuck somewhere just out of reach. She sighs heavily, and falls silent once more.
After a while of watching Amy breathe, she releases her hand and goes in search of someone who can tell her why her little girl hasn’t woken up.
When she finds Amy’s doctor, the news is not good.
(Amy slumbers on, falling deeper into what appear to be dreams, but really, are more like a coma.)
..........
“Amy? Amy? Can you hear me?”
There’s a light being shined in her face, flicking rapidly across her eyelids.
“Hey! I know you can hear me! Open your eyes, you silly thing. You can’t sleep all day, there’s adventured to be had out there that won’t wait for you to have a nap!”
She knows that voice. It’s old and young and far too excited.
“Doctor?”
“Pond! You’re alive. I mean - I knew you were alive. I meant you’re okay! That’s good. Little bump never hurt anyone.”
The voice, the Doctor’s voice is coming closer.
She feels warm hands smoothing her hair out of her face, gently cupping her cheeks.
“Hey, let me see those eyes huh?”
She opens her eyes.
Warm orange lights play across the ceiling, immediately blocked out by the grinning face of a cosmic four-year old madman.
“Hey yourself, Doctor. What happened?” she grumbles, sitting up gently.
“Oh, you know, this and that. Landing mostly, followed by you taking a spectacular dive headfirst into the console. You know, the usual really. Excellent form, by the way! You managed to flail into nearly all the important buttons that you possibly could have on your way down. Not quite sure what’s going to happen when we need to leave, but that’s all part of the fun, isn’t it really? Might be a rough take-off, should probably have invested in a theme that incorporated seatbelts, eh?”
He’s striding around the console as he talks, waving his arms, and absently patting the machine as he walks around it until he’s come full circle and is back beside her.
He helps her stand up, and she has to stare.
Everything is as she remembers, down to the little blinking lights. He’s even wearing the same bowtie.
She turns to the man who has apparently realised that she’s not listening to him talk. A small smile plays across his lips.
She takes on step closer to him, and grabs his shoulders, tugging until he has to move into her hug.
She buries her face into his shoulder and takes a deep breath of the unique scent of the stars that clings to his jacket.
When she steps back, he’s grinning widely again, and she’s not surprised to find that she is as well.
“Well, now that you’re up and about, let’s get going, shall we?” he proclaims, whirling around to face the doors, offering his arm as he does.
She gladly takes it.
“Where are we again Doctor?” she asks as they make their way down the glass steps in tandem.
“Well, Pond, we are currently parked on Silbeman IV - not to be confused with Silbeman V, because that is a perfectly horrible little planet - where a rare phenomenon is causing a wave of native wildlife to converse with the people! Quite harmless, really, but rather exciting to see. Just remember to not trust the rabbits and we’ll be fine. Or the mice! Don’t listen to the mice, the little rascals - they’re always up to no good.”
Amy grins once more as the Doctor continues to prattle on about species dialects and something about kangaroos-but-not-really. She flings the doors open wide and steps out into the sunshine.
Her hand trails behind her for a moment, before she remembers that they are the only ones on-board, and that there is no-one who belongs with them.
No one but her and her Doctor, her boy and his box.
For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home. - Stephanie Perkins