Fic; While I Was Waiting.
Title: While I Was Waiting.
Author: OnlineMiniBoss
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Amy/Rory
Rating: T, it gets a little intense.
Warnings/Spoilers: The Doctor's Wife.
Disclaimer: All your characters are belonging to BBC.
Summary: As Amy faces her darkest fears, deep in the TARDIS, so does Rory. What happened to him while Amy watched his death?
Author's Notes: So the reason this is so long after the episode is, I've just finished posting it all here, on the kink meme. Hear that high-pitched whizzing noise? There goes my anonymity.
Anyway, basically it starts off kind of slow and rubbish 'cause I haven't written in forever, but it gets really epic, I swear.
Bloody Doctor.
No, that wasn't really fair, was it? Considering the circumstances, Rory could hardly blame him. Then again, he was the reason they were stuck on the TARDIS. And... well, and why they were even travelling through space to begin with. And danger did sort of follow him. Or maybe he sought it out? Who knew? Maybe Time Lord biology required huge amounts of adrenaline to function. All Rory knew was, human biology definitely didn't, and the amount the Doctor seemed to 'accidently' land them in hot water was starting to get him suspicious.
As it stood now, he was jogging down a corridor after Amy. That voice - House (He couldn't deny it; every time he heard the name, it put Hugh Laurie's face to the voice) hadn't spoken to them since they'd started running, and although Amy was sprinting ahead as though she was freaking out he lagged slightly. Maybe it had left them alone? Surely there were more important things to do when you'd just hijacked a TARDIS? It's not like they were doing anything entertaining, anyway- oh, crap-
"No!" Amy had stepped through an open doorway, and it slammed shut behind her, the silver doors sliding shut with a solid THUNK! He slammed his hands against it, and tried to dig his fingers into the gap to lever the two halves open, but it wasn't budging.
Clearly Amy had been right about the freaking out thing... Great. An evil TARDIS out to get them, just what everyone needed. The implications of this hadn't even occured to him until now - House could do anything to them. It was like being in Final Destination, you had to keep an eye on every inanimate object and just guess about whatever you couldn't see. What if he simply opened the next door out into space? The fact that the TARDIS didn't really work like that was of little reassurance.
After battering the door a little more, he realised how unhelpful that was as the doors slid sideways, rather than outwards, and he began to scout around where he stood for something sturdy enough to prise them open. There - the square panels that lined each archway. If he could pull one of them off and get it between the doors, he could maybe get it open! Save the girl, defeat the monster, and the Doctor could forgive him for breaking the TARDIS later... Maybe.
He stepped to the closest one and started feeling around the edges, trying to find a space he could wedge his fingers under to yank it out. It didn't even seem to have an edge; obstinately, it stuck to the wall through sheer force of will or some form of super space glue. He ran his hands over it, and then abandoned it and tried another, looking for a weak spot of any kind, when suddenly a thought occured to him, and he dropped his hands to his side. A plan it might have been, but it was a plan that essentially amounted to feeling up Hugh Laurie... That was out, then.
He turned his attention to the door once more, the polished silver flashing arrogantly at him, taunting him. He pressed his ear right up to the crack in the middle, hoping to hear her. It wasn't that thick, right?
She's right on the other side... Why can't you reach her? Honestly, giving up so soon, that's just pathetic... Come on, you'll never get through, why are you even trying?
Rory couldn't tell if the insidious voice was coming from House, or inside his own head. Pulling away, he slammed a fist against it once more, as though hoping it would somehow collapse under the force. Some hope.
"Amy! Amyy! Amy, can you hear me?" He paused, as if expecting a response which so far hadn't been forthcoming. "I'm gonna see if there's another way around, if you can hear me, stay where you are!"
He turned to start the quick jog to the end of the corridor the two of them had only just run up, but stopped at the end. There was absolutely no guarantee that House wouldn't just mess up the hallways once again; the two of them could spend the rest of their lives wandering the seemingly endless corridors, searching for each other. He cast an agonised glance down each different corridor and gave another yell, hands cupped around his mouth.
"AMY! AMY!!" He fell silent, hoping for a similar cry from her. But there was silence... Just the mild humming of the TARDIS.
He turned around and, slowly this time, made his way back towards the door. Pressing his back against it, he stared blankly down the empty corridor and kept silent for a minute or two, just in case she was calling out to him and he just couldn't hear her. No such luck... Minutes passed, and he tried once more.
"Amy?! Amy, can you hear me?" Only silence answered. Damn it, this was his fault. He was the one who convinced the stupid green thing that they'd run away-
Hey, cool it, a little voice that sounded oddly like Amy's cautioned him. If you hadn't convinced him, neither of you would be alive right now, you gave both of you a fighting chance - she's not dead, you know how resiliant she is.
His breathing slowed - the caution had worked. She'd never let this defeat her, and she definitely knew how to handle herself. The best thing to do would be to wait here. Knowing her, she would be looking for him without regard to what he was doing, so he needed to stay in one place. Out of the two of them, he certainly knew who he'd trust to find their way around, and it wasn't him. Maybe she was just on the other side of the door, and any minute now House would get bored and open it again.
He took a step to the side and let himself slide down, until he was sitting relatively comfortably, leaning against the frame that edged the door. Still nothing but silence from the rest of the surrounding area.
Hours passed. He changed positions several times, pretending it was to prevent his legs - or butt, the floor was really hard - seizing up, and ignoring the restless nagging in the pit of his stomach. After several hours of straining his ears to try and hear a footstep, anything that would signal her arrival, he had the idea to call her name, over and over - it gave him something to focus on, and it was better than sitting silently. Maybe he could even lead her to him.
More than once he stopped, and looked up, convinced he heard her walk round the corner, or say his name, but it was always nothing. His mind, playing tricks on him. He couldn't even trust his own head anymore.
"Amy..." There was a pause, before the lazy call picked up again, "Amy!" Another, slightly longer, pause, "...Amyyy..."
Rory wasn't sure how long had passed. Though in a slightly whiny, exaggerated way he'd swear a whole day and night had probably passed, he knew it was probably something more like seven or eight hours. Around half an hour ago he'd slid back into his original position and rested there, head in his hands, to continue his repeated cry. The way the TARDIS corridors echoed, only a few corridors over, made him sound as a ghost, haunting a long-silent ruin for a lost love. Perhaps he was.
"...Rory?"
His head snapped up in something like shock, as the very real voice interrupted him before he could call again. Wow, it actually worked. A plan! His plan! ...Of a sort. Was 'sit and wait' a plan? Well, it bloody worked, so clearly it was.
He scrambled to his feet. "Where have you been?"
She half-indicated down the corridor she'd just come from. "I stepped through that door and it came out here."
He hesitated. "...You've- you've been hours."
"No I haven't..." Oh... maybe sitting and waiting wasn't the best plan, then, if she was only around the corner. Her face mirrored his, as their eyes met in identical confusion. "It's House. And it's messing with the TARDIS. Come on, back this way-"
She turned to run, around to the corridor she'd just come down, and he picked up his cue and followed instantly. That was something he hadn't even anticipated - the last few hours he'd lived through, she'd not even... she hadn't. Messing with time? That was creepy.
He realised he was lagging behind slightly again, and sped up - and nearly ran into the doors that WHOOSHED closed right in front of him, separating the two of them once more. "NO!" He slammed a hand against it once more, but more out of anger than anything else. Experience had taught him the pointlessness of that.
Rory turned on his heel, to face the empty corridor. The light seemed to dim for a brief second, and he would almost swear that it was laughing at him. Right. Screw this. He wasn't waiting around for who knew how long just for her to turn a corner and stumble onto him. He headed back the way he'd come, back to the T-junction of corridors; the right led back to the console room, the way they'd come in. To the left was the door he'd kept a vigil at, only this time, the door was open.
He pushed aside the obnoxious little thought, almost as if it wants you to go that way, cast a look back at the smooth silver hexagon that impassively blocked him from Amy, and started down the corridor, at a light jog.
Rory had no idea how long he'd been running. All the passages looked identical - quite possibly, if House was easily amused, the corridor was bent in on itself, and Rory had simply been running from one end to the other, repeatedly. In the middle of just another aisle, suddenly, Rory slowed, and stopped, panting. He took a few seconds to bend over slightly, and regulate his breathing a little, before straightening up.
"All right. All right! I thought you wanted entertainment, this is more like reality telly, nothing's happening!" He stretched out his arms, talking - shouting - at the walls. "You bring Amy to me only to take her away instantly, how is that-" He stopped himself, almost laughing. Like this guy was gonna be fair. "Are you ever gonna let me find her again?"
"What are you doing?"
Amy's voice was remarkably loud, and took him completely by surprise after his own voice had echoed itself quietly into oblivion. He spun to face her, dropping his arms, as she hung back by the corner of the passage.
"Amy! You're okay!"
"Of course I'm okay, you big idiot-" He crossed the space between them in only a couple of steps, anxious to make sure that never again was there space enough between them for House to lodge a door, and wrapped his arms tightly around Amy. Her hair still smelled good, that shampoo he'd once mentioned he liked, which she always wore now. He could feel her stiffening slightly in his grip, though, and for some reason she didn't return the hug. He released her from it, instead resting his hands on her upper arms and looking into her eyes.
"Amy, are you all right? Did he... Did he do something to you-?"
"No!" Amy scoffed, pulling away from him. "Honestly, Rory... Poor old Rory, always so paranoid. Always-... always thinking everyone's too good for him, that he doesn't belong here." Rory eyed her, expecting a punchline, as she rolled her eyes, keeping her hands twisted together behind her back and circled him. She laughed, "Do you even really believe me that there's nothing going on between me and the Doctor? Guess what, stupid..." The expression of confusion Rory had worn earlier seemed to be glued to his face, as she hooked his collar and tugged him towards her, leaning in close, so close to him he could almost feel her lips brush his ear.
"You're right."
Rory had no time for any reaction but to widen his eyes, before suddenly she brought her hand around and slashed at his chest. He barely pulled himself far enough out of the way to stop the heavy-looking knife she carried going so deep that it incapacited him, as was clearly her plan - as it was, it only grazed him, though that was enough to make him cry out in pain. Grasping at the steadily bleeding slice on his chest, he backed away, further down the corridor - but she followed, slashing the air, a mad glint in her eye that he'd never seen before.
"Amy! Amy, what are you doing?! Think about what you're doing, Amy, come on, don't do this-" He jerked barely out of the way of another attempt to slash at him. She showed no signs of stopping, only advancing. "Amy!!"
"Stupid Rory, you could never see the obvious, could you?! You always fell for the same old routine. 'Him?'" She feigned surprise when she said it, and Rory's stomach felt like lead, "You never even saw it! You know, we had sex on your bed. Your bed." Another slash towards him, "And in the middle of the console room."
After a gasp for breath, Rory made a sudden lunge for the knife, and though she twisted away from him, yelling, he finally wrestled it off her. She faced him, and though the lights around them flashed a dark green it was easy to see the anger that filled her eyes. Her hair hung loosely in front of her face, as she stared at him, furious, waiting for a chance to pounce at him again. Rory took a deep breath, one hand still clamped on his chest, the other clutching the knife, outstretched between he and Amy. This was crazy.
"...This is one of the knives from the TARDIS kitchen... Amy, what the hell is going on?"
"Ha! Oh, great, gotta explain it to Rory, yet again! It's always the way, Rory's always in the dark, poor Rory..." She was like a tigress, ready to jump at him the second he looked away. "It's me and him, it always was! I grew up in love with him, how could you ever compare to that?! Even the TARDIS doesn't want you here! This whole thing was a set-up."
Rory shook his head, as if trying to deny what he was hearing. "No, Amy, why are you saying that? It's not true! It's House, it's gotten into your mind, this isn't you-!"
"Isn't it?" Amy narrowed her eyes at him. "Amelia Pond is left distraught as her husband, only months after they wed, is tragically killed in a robbery gone wrong... Amelia becomes a hermit in her own house, but really, Amelia starts travelling the universe with the real love of her life, finally free to do whatever they really want to do..."
Rory wasn't listening. He'd stopped after she mentioned the wedding, and an idea had formed. House had to be messing with something here. Had to be. What if it was just him?
He thought about the wedding. Thought about how Amy looked at him, how she cringed at the more embarrassing family members - and the Doctor and his ridiculous dancing. How she laughed at their private jokes. He saw her, the first time they'd seen their new 'cool' bunk beds, and how she'd raised her eyebrows suggestively at him. He saw how she'd sobbed when he'd drowned, and felt how tightly she'd hugged him.
He saw the worry on the Doctor's face, when they'd listened to Amy begging for help, and the joy on it when he'd thought there were more Time Lords on some planet at the end of the universe. He saw the millions of indecipherable facial expressions that crowded the Doctor's face every day, and the easier ones to recognise, the fear, and the sadness, sadness Rory could barely comprehend.
He saw it all in seconds, and knew beyond all doubt that whatever was in front of him was lying.
"You're not Amy."
She screamed, an intense scream of pure frustration, and as he winced she launched herself at him, grabbing the blade of the knife in a ferocious attempt to wrestle it away from him. She didn't stop there, though - as the two of them fell against the wall, she dug the nails of her free hand into his arm and bit his shoulder, hard.
"Aargh!" He held the knife as tightly as possible, desperately trying to keep it out of the way, and used his other hand to attempt to pull her off, but she kept digging her nails into his already seriously painful chest and shrieking right beside his ear. Finally, he forced her away - but her leg tangled around his, and tripped them both up. The two of them crashed to the floor, as she landed on top of him - but in the chaos, he'd lost control of the knife, and it had twisted, and lodged itself deep in a stomach-
The fight was gone, left both of them drained. Rory squeezed his eyes shut, in despair, as Amy's hair fanned across his face. She hadn't moved since the two of them had heard the sickening slice of the knife, that too easily slid into her. Rory simply lay, for just a minute, her body heavy on top of him, as he stroked her hair carefully. A juddering breath tugged him out of his morbid detachment, and he edged carefully to the side, sliding out and sitting up, to leave her lying on the floor, leaning the upper half of her body on his lap. She was still alive, her mouth gasping for words that didn't come.
"Amy... Amy..." Dread had been steadily rising since she'd collapsed onto him. What if this was really her? Had been the entire time? She could have just had her mind messed with, instead of his automatic assumption that this wasn't her, couldn't be, had to be some kind of illusion because his Amy would never even consider those things.
So why was she still here? She was here and - oh God - he couldn't tell what was his blood and what was hers, staining his dark yellow shirt a thick, browny red. He didn't even hurt anymore - outwardly, at least, though he was sure the scar on his chest would take a long time to heal. Inwardly, however... He had no idea his heart could ache this much.
She was staring up at him, as he cradled her face, tears obscuring his own sight until he blinked them away, but they kept coming back. Stroking her hair out of her face, he glanced to the knife that remained lodged deep in her stomach, and gave a choked sob. Blood soaked her shirt, and her hands were grasping at the knife as if to pull it out herself. He reached out his hand to clasp one of hers, and their eyes met again; he understood, and reached over himself, to get a firm grip on the handle. He took a shaky breath in and braced himself, closing his eyes, which only served to spill the tears his eyes had been threatening, then carefully drew the heavy blade out.
She whimpered in pain, giving a small cry. He couldn't bear that sound, though she quieted as he tossed the knife as far down the corridor as he could, hearing it clatter to the floor. Turning his attention back to her, she started to grab at his arms, and he wrapped them around her, steadying her against him.
"Amy... Don't- please don't-"
"You killed me once already, Rory... Shouldn't think this would be anything new..." Her voice was barely audible, and he could see a trickle of blood escape her lips, the beautiful lips he loved to kiss.
"Don't say that... The Doctor's gonna be here any minute, he'll save you-"
"Just like last time? Just like... all the other times..." Rory shook his head, as one of his tears splashed gently onto her face. Her voice suddenly changed, and her eyes filled with pleading. "Rory... Rory, don't let me die... Please, Rory, you can't let me die, I don't want to, I need to be here with you..."
"Amy- Oh God, Amy, I can't-" Her hand rested on her wound, and he laid his hand on top of hers, her blood staining the two of them. He could see tears forming in her eyes now, too, and lifted her towards him, leaning in to bury his face in her neck. "...I can't save you." His words muffled in her hair as he squeezed her tighter to him.
"I have to be here, for you, my big stupid-face, you can't manage it alone..." He felt her arm around him, and shook his head, his eyes tightly closed, as some childish game. If he couldn't see it, it wasn't happening.
"You're not... You can't, Amy, you're not Amy, Amy can't be dead, please-"
He could hear her voice breaking, and felt his cheek wet with her tears. "Why are you saying that? Rory... Rory, it's me, you know me-..." She broke off and pulled away from him, giving a cry of pain. His stomach was knotted so tightly he nearly threw up, dread and despair being taken slowly over by grief.
His tears were stinging his eyes. Carefully he lowered her to the floor, just beside himself, pulling his legs free of her, and stood up, slipping his arms free of her as she tried to cling to him, her eyes begging for his help. He staggered backwards, moving away until he hit the opposite wall, not taking his eyes off her; she held his gaze with tears in her eyes, silently pleading with him, until suddenly a great spasming cough overtook her, and more blood trickled from her mouth, and she took another juddering breath... and fell silent.
Rory's breathing became shallow, as he tried to press himself further backwards, into the wall. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, and looked away, down the corridor, then back - but she was still there, her body, unmoving on the floor. Throwing a hand out to the wall, he slid to his knees, and crawled back to her again.
"Amy... Amy, I'm so sorry... Amy, please... Oh God, please Amy, please-" The words he wanted to say simply caught in his throat, as he reached her, and looked into her eyes, and saw nothing.
Not long after, he'd returned to the opposite wall. He wasn't crying anymore, he felt too empty for that. Instead he sat, his arms supported by his knees, propped up in front of him, and he stared, an exhausted, dead stare that rested on the exanimate body of his wife.
He couldn't comprehend why she hadn't disappeared yet. She shouldn't still be here, shouldn't exist. She was all in his mind. But then, why did her blood still cover him? He glanced away from her, taking a look further down the corridor. The knife, its glinting silver blade dulled with blood, lay where he had thrown it.
It would be a long time before he moved from this spot.
As it turned out, it would be a lot shorter than he thought, but he'd never been more grateful for an interruption.
Not more than a few corridors away, there was a scream. Rory's head snapped up so fast he almost got whiplash - Amy! He scrambled to his feet, and ran to the end of the corridor, but the scream had long faded. He knew which direction to go in, at least.
He turned back in a panic, and stopped short. She'd disappeared. She was gone, and so was the knife. He was right the whole time. He almost wanted to hit his head against the wall; why did he let himself get suckered in like that? Another thought occured to him, and he looked down at himself. No blood. His shirt was unripped, and he lifted it slightly to check his chest... that was whole, too. All the physical pain he'd felt, the scratches from her nails as she fought him, everything he'd seen... The whole thing had been in his head.
The relief he felt washed over him like a wave, almost knocking him to his knees. Without wasting a minute more, he spun around and started to run, in the direction he'd heard the scream.
His vague guess towards how far away she was seemed more or less right - he'd only turned a couple of corners before he heard sobbing, and he picked up the pace, almost running past the opening to one hallway before realising there was movement there. He stared, seeing Amy on her knees, crawling towards one of the archways.
"...Amy?" He could barely get the word out. It seemed so impossible. She screamed, hearing him, and twisted around; but on seeing him, her eyes widened, and she turned to look down the corridor. Rory did too... there didn't seem to be anything here, but maybe she saw things he didn't. He turned his attention back to her as she picked herself up and ran towards him, and he caught her and held her so tightly, so tightly, as it was supposed to be.
She tore herself away, and he could see how drained she looked, as he placed his hands on her face, and they leant their foreheads together. She hit him on the shoulder in frustration before her hands gripped his jacket, and he knew this was really her.
"It's messing with our heads. Come on- run!" She nodded in agreement, clearly as emotionally shot as he was, and the two of them turned and ran, to save the day, as the Doctor's companions did.
Author: OnlineMiniBoss
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Amy/Rory
Rating: T, it gets a little intense.
Warnings/Spoilers: The Doctor's Wife.
Disclaimer: All your characters are belonging to BBC.
Summary: As Amy faces her darkest fears, deep in the TARDIS, so does Rory. What happened to him while Amy watched his death?
Author's Notes: So the reason this is so long after the episode is, I've just finished posting it all here, on the kink meme. Hear that high-pitched whizzing noise? There goes my anonymity.
Anyway, basically it starts off kind of slow and rubbish 'cause I haven't written in forever, but it gets really epic, I swear.
Bloody Doctor.
No, that wasn't really fair, was it? Considering the circumstances, Rory could hardly blame him. Then again, he was the reason they were stuck on the TARDIS. And... well, and why they were even travelling through space to begin with. And danger did sort of follow him. Or maybe he sought it out? Who knew? Maybe Time Lord biology required huge amounts of adrenaline to function. All Rory knew was, human biology definitely didn't, and the amount the Doctor seemed to 'accidently' land them in hot water was starting to get him suspicious.
As it stood now, he was jogging down a corridor after Amy. That voice - House (He couldn't deny it; every time he heard the name, it put Hugh Laurie's face to the voice) hadn't spoken to them since they'd started running, and although Amy was sprinting ahead as though she was freaking out he lagged slightly. Maybe it had left them alone? Surely there were more important things to do when you'd just hijacked a TARDIS? It's not like they were doing anything entertaining, anyway- oh, crap-
"No!" Amy had stepped through an open doorway, and it slammed shut behind her, the silver doors sliding shut with a solid THUNK! He slammed his hands against it, and tried to dig his fingers into the gap to lever the two halves open, but it wasn't budging.
Clearly Amy had been right about the freaking out thing... Great. An evil TARDIS out to get them, just what everyone needed. The implications of this hadn't even occured to him until now - House could do anything to them. It was like being in Final Destination, you had to keep an eye on every inanimate object and just guess about whatever you couldn't see. What if he simply opened the next door out into space? The fact that the TARDIS didn't really work like that was of little reassurance.
After battering the door a little more, he realised how unhelpful that was as the doors slid sideways, rather than outwards, and he began to scout around where he stood for something sturdy enough to prise them open. There - the square panels that lined each archway. If he could pull one of them off and get it between the doors, he could maybe get it open! Save the girl, defeat the monster, and the Doctor could forgive him for breaking the TARDIS later... Maybe.
He stepped to the closest one and started feeling around the edges, trying to find a space he could wedge his fingers under to yank it out. It didn't even seem to have an edge; obstinately, it stuck to the wall through sheer force of will or some form of super space glue. He ran his hands over it, and then abandoned it and tried another, looking for a weak spot of any kind, when suddenly a thought occured to him, and he dropped his hands to his side. A plan it might have been, but it was a plan that essentially amounted to feeling up Hugh Laurie... That was out, then.
He turned his attention to the door once more, the polished silver flashing arrogantly at him, taunting him. He pressed his ear right up to the crack in the middle, hoping to hear her. It wasn't that thick, right?
She's right on the other side... Why can't you reach her? Honestly, giving up so soon, that's just pathetic... Come on, you'll never get through, why are you even trying?
Rory couldn't tell if the insidious voice was coming from House, or inside his own head. Pulling away, he slammed a fist against it once more, as though hoping it would somehow collapse under the force. Some hope.
"Amy! Amyy! Amy, can you hear me?" He paused, as if expecting a response which so far hadn't been forthcoming. "I'm gonna see if there's another way around, if you can hear me, stay where you are!"
He turned to start the quick jog to the end of the corridor the two of them had only just run up, but stopped at the end. There was absolutely no guarantee that House wouldn't just mess up the hallways once again; the two of them could spend the rest of their lives wandering the seemingly endless corridors, searching for each other. He cast an agonised glance down each different corridor and gave another yell, hands cupped around his mouth.
"AMY! AMY!!" He fell silent, hoping for a similar cry from her. But there was silence... Just the mild humming of the TARDIS.
He turned around and, slowly this time, made his way back towards the door. Pressing his back against it, he stared blankly down the empty corridor and kept silent for a minute or two, just in case she was calling out to him and he just couldn't hear her. No such luck... Minutes passed, and he tried once more.
"Amy?! Amy, can you hear me?" Only silence answered. Damn it, this was his fault. He was the one who convinced the stupid green thing that they'd run away-
Hey, cool it, a little voice that sounded oddly like Amy's cautioned him. If you hadn't convinced him, neither of you would be alive right now, you gave both of you a fighting chance - she's not dead, you know how resiliant she is.
His breathing slowed - the caution had worked. She'd never let this defeat her, and she definitely knew how to handle herself. The best thing to do would be to wait here. Knowing her, she would be looking for him without regard to what he was doing, so he needed to stay in one place. Out of the two of them, he certainly knew who he'd trust to find their way around, and it wasn't him. Maybe she was just on the other side of the door, and any minute now House would get bored and open it again.
He took a step to the side and let himself slide down, until he was sitting relatively comfortably, leaning against the frame that edged the door. Still nothing but silence from the rest of the surrounding area.
Hours passed. He changed positions several times, pretending it was to prevent his legs - or butt, the floor was really hard - seizing up, and ignoring the restless nagging in the pit of his stomach. After several hours of straining his ears to try and hear a footstep, anything that would signal her arrival, he had the idea to call her name, over and over - it gave him something to focus on, and it was better than sitting silently. Maybe he could even lead her to him.
More than once he stopped, and looked up, convinced he heard her walk round the corner, or say his name, but it was always nothing. His mind, playing tricks on him. He couldn't even trust his own head anymore.
"Amy..." There was a pause, before the lazy call picked up again, "Amy!" Another, slightly longer, pause, "...Amyyy..."
Rory wasn't sure how long had passed. Though in a slightly whiny, exaggerated way he'd swear a whole day and night had probably passed, he knew it was probably something more like seven or eight hours. Around half an hour ago he'd slid back into his original position and rested there, head in his hands, to continue his repeated cry. The way the TARDIS corridors echoed, only a few corridors over, made him sound as a ghost, haunting a long-silent ruin for a lost love. Perhaps he was.
"...Rory?"
His head snapped up in something like shock, as the very real voice interrupted him before he could call again. Wow, it actually worked. A plan! His plan! ...Of a sort. Was 'sit and wait' a plan? Well, it bloody worked, so clearly it was.
He scrambled to his feet. "Where have you been?"
She half-indicated down the corridor she'd just come from. "I stepped through that door and it came out here."
He hesitated. "...You've- you've been hours."
"No I haven't..." Oh... maybe sitting and waiting wasn't the best plan, then, if she was only around the corner. Her face mirrored his, as their eyes met in identical confusion. "It's House. And it's messing with the TARDIS. Come on, back this way-"
She turned to run, around to the corridor she'd just come down, and he picked up his cue and followed instantly. That was something he hadn't even anticipated - the last few hours he'd lived through, she'd not even... she hadn't. Messing with time? That was creepy.
He realised he was lagging behind slightly again, and sped up - and nearly ran into the doors that WHOOSHED closed right in front of him, separating the two of them once more. "NO!" He slammed a hand against it once more, but more out of anger than anything else. Experience had taught him the pointlessness of that.
Rory turned on his heel, to face the empty corridor. The light seemed to dim for a brief second, and he would almost swear that it was laughing at him. Right. Screw this. He wasn't waiting around for who knew how long just for her to turn a corner and stumble onto him. He headed back the way he'd come, back to the T-junction of corridors; the right led back to the console room, the way they'd come in. To the left was the door he'd kept a vigil at, only this time, the door was open.
He pushed aside the obnoxious little thought, almost as if it wants you to go that way, cast a look back at the smooth silver hexagon that impassively blocked him from Amy, and started down the corridor, at a light jog.
Rory had no idea how long he'd been running. All the passages looked identical - quite possibly, if House was easily amused, the corridor was bent in on itself, and Rory had simply been running from one end to the other, repeatedly. In the middle of just another aisle, suddenly, Rory slowed, and stopped, panting. He took a few seconds to bend over slightly, and regulate his breathing a little, before straightening up.
"All right. All right! I thought you wanted entertainment, this is more like reality telly, nothing's happening!" He stretched out his arms, talking - shouting - at the walls. "You bring Amy to me only to take her away instantly, how is that-" He stopped himself, almost laughing. Like this guy was gonna be fair. "Are you ever gonna let me find her again?"
"What are you doing?"
Amy's voice was remarkably loud, and took him completely by surprise after his own voice had echoed itself quietly into oblivion. He spun to face her, dropping his arms, as she hung back by the corner of the passage.
"Amy! You're okay!"
"Of course I'm okay, you big idiot-" He crossed the space between them in only a couple of steps, anxious to make sure that never again was there space enough between them for House to lodge a door, and wrapped his arms tightly around Amy. Her hair still smelled good, that shampoo he'd once mentioned he liked, which she always wore now. He could feel her stiffening slightly in his grip, though, and for some reason she didn't return the hug. He released her from it, instead resting his hands on her upper arms and looking into her eyes.
"Amy, are you all right? Did he... Did he do something to you-?"
"No!" Amy scoffed, pulling away from him. "Honestly, Rory... Poor old Rory, always so paranoid. Always-... always thinking everyone's too good for him, that he doesn't belong here." Rory eyed her, expecting a punchline, as she rolled her eyes, keeping her hands twisted together behind her back and circled him. She laughed, "Do you even really believe me that there's nothing going on between me and the Doctor? Guess what, stupid..." The expression of confusion Rory had worn earlier seemed to be glued to his face, as she hooked his collar and tugged him towards her, leaning in close, so close to him he could almost feel her lips brush his ear.
"You're right."
Rory had no time for any reaction but to widen his eyes, before suddenly she brought her hand around and slashed at his chest. He barely pulled himself far enough out of the way to stop the heavy-looking knife she carried going so deep that it incapacited him, as was clearly her plan - as it was, it only grazed him, though that was enough to make him cry out in pain. Grasping at the steadily bleeding slice on his chest, he backed away, further down the corridor - but she followed, slashing the air, a mad glint in her eye that he'd never seen before.
"Amy! Amy, what are you doing?! Think about what you're doing, Amy, come on, don't do this-" He jerked barely out of the way of another attempt to slash at him. She showed no signs of stopping, only advancing. "Amy!!"
"Stupid Rory, you could never see the obvious, could you?! You always fell for the same old routine. 'Him?'" She feigned surprise when she said it, and Rory's stomach felt like lead, "You never even saw it! You know, we had sex on your bed. Your bed." Another slash towards him, "And in the middle of the console room."
After a gasp for breath, Rory made a sudden lunge for the knife, and though she twisted away from him, yelling, he finally wrestled it off her. She faced him, and though the lights around them flashed a dark green it was easy to see the anger that filled her eyes. Her hair hung loosely in front of her face, as she stared at him, furious, waiting for a chance to pounce at him again. Rory took a deep breath, one hand still clamped on his chest, the other clutching the knife, outstretched between he and Amy. This was crazy.
"...This is one of the knives from the TARDIS kitchen... Amy, what the hell is going on?"
"Ha! Oh, great, gotta explain it to Rory, yet again! It's always the way, Rory's always in the dark, poor Rory..." She was like a tigress, ready to jump at him the second he looked away. "It's me and him, it always was! I grew up in love with him, how could you ever compare to that?! Even the TARDIS doesn't want you here! This whole thing was a set-up."
Rory shook his head, as if trying to deny what he was hearing. "No, Amy, why are you saying that? It's not true! It's House, it's gotten into your mind, this isn't you-!"
"Isn't it?" Amy narrowed her eyes at him. "Amelia Pond is left distraught as her husband, only months after they wed, is tragically killed in a robbery gone wrong... Amelia becomes a hermit in her own house, but really, Amelia starts travelling the universe with the real love of her life, finally free to do whatever they really want to do..."
Rory wasn't listening. He'd stopped after she mentioned the wedding, and an idea had formed. House had to be messing with something here. Had to be. What if it was just him?
He thought about the wedding. Thought about how Amy looked at him, how she cringed at the more embarrassing family members - and the Doctor and his ridiculous dancing. How she laughed at their private jokes. He saw her, the first time they'd seen their new 'cool' bunk beds, and how she'd raised her eyebrows suggestively at him. He saw how she'd sobbed when he'd drowned, and felt how tightly she'd hugged him.
He saw the worry on the Doctor's face, when they'd listened to Amy begging for help, and the joy on it when he'd thought there were more Time Lords on some planet at the end of the universe. He saw the millions of indecipherable facial expressions that crowded the Doctor's face every day, and the easier ones to recognise, the fear, and the sadness, sadness Rory could barely comprehend.
He saw it all in seconds, and knew beyond all doubt that whatever was in front of him was lying.
"You're not Amy."
She screamed, an intense scream of pure frustration, and as he winced she launched herself at him, grabbing the blade of the knife in a ferocious attempt to wrestle it away from him. She didn't stop there, though - as the two of them fell against the wall, she dug the nails of her free hand into his arm and bit his shoulder, hard.
"Aargh!" He held the knife as tightly as possible, desperately trying to keep it out of the way, and used his other hand to attempt to pull her off, but she kept digging her nails into his already seriously painful chest and shrieking right beside his ear. Finally, he forced her away - but her leg tangled around his, and tripped them both up. The two of them crashed to the floor, as she landed on top of him - but in the chaos, he'd lost control of the knife, and it had twisted, and lodged itself deep in a stomach-
The fight was gone, left both of them drained. Rory squeezed his eyes shut, in despair, as Amy's hair fanned across his face. She hadn't moved since the two of them had heard the sickening slice of the knife, that too easily slid into her. Rory simply lay, for just a minute, her body heavy on top of him, as he stroked her hair carefully. A juddering breath tugged him out of his morbid detachment, and he edged carefully to the side, sliding out and sitting up, to leave her lying on the floor, leaning the upper half of her body on his lap. She was still alive, her mouth gasping for words that didn't come.
"Amy... Amy..." Dread had been steadily rising since she'd collapsed onto him. What if this was really her? Had been the entire time? She could have just had her mind messed with, instead of his automatic assumption that this wasn't her, couldn't be, had to be some kind of illusion because his Amy would never even consider those things.
So why was she still here? She was here and - oh God - he couldn't tell what was his blood and what was hers, staining his dark yellow shirt a thick, browny red. He didn't even hurt anymore - outwardly, at least, though he was sure the scar on his chest would take a long time to heal. Inwardly, however... He had no idea his heart could ache this much.
She was staring up at him, as he cradled her face, tears obscuring his own sight until he blinked them away, but they kept coming back. Stroking her hair out of her face, he glanced to the knife that remained lodged deep in her stomach, and gave a choked sob. Blood soaked her shirt, and her hands were grasping at the knife as if to pull it out herself. He reached out his hand to clasp one of hers, and their eyes met again; he understood, and reached over himself, to get a firm grip on the handle. He took a shaky breath in and braced himself, closing his eyes, which only served to spill the tears his eyes had been threatening, then carefully drew the heavy blade out.
She whimpered in pain, giving a small cry. He couldn't bear that sound, though she quieted as he tossed the knife as far down the corridor as he could, hearing it clatter to the floor. Turning his attention back to her, she started to grab at his arms, and he wrapped them around her, steadying her against him.
"Amy... Don't- please don't-"
"You killed me once already, Rory... Shouldn't think this would be anything new..." Her voice was barely audible, and he could see a trickle of blood escape her lips, the beautiful lips he loved to kiss.
"Don't say that... The Doctor's gonna be here any minute, he'll save you-"
"Just like last time? Just like... all the other times..." Rory shook his head, as one of his tears splashed gently onto her face. Her voice suddenly changed, and her eyes filled with pleading. "Rory... Rory, don't let me die... Please, Rory, you can't let me die, I don't want to, I need to be here with you..."
"Amy- Oh God, Amy, I can't-" Her hand rested on her wound, and he laid his hand on top of hers, her blood staining the two of them. He could see tears forming in her eyes now, too, and lifted her towards him, leaning in to bury his face in her neck. "...I can't save you." His words muffled in her hair as he squeezed her tighter to him.
"I have to be here, for you, my big stupid-face, you can't manage it alone..." He felt her arm around him, and shook his head, his eyes tightly closed, as some childish game. If he couldn't see it, it wasn't happening.
"You're not... You can't, Amy, you're not Amy, Amy can't be dead, please-"
He could hear her voice breaking, and felt his cheek wet with her tears. "Why are you saying that? Rory... Rory, it's me, you know me-..." She broke off and pulled away from him, giving a cry of pain. His stomach was knotted so tightly he nearly threw up, dread and despair being taken slowly over by grief.
His tears were stinging his eyes. Carefully he lowered her to the floor, just beside himself, pulling his legs free of her, and stood up, slipping his arms free of her as she tried to cling to him, her eyes begging for his help. He staggered backwards, moving away until he hit the opposite wall, not taking his eyes off her; she held his gaze with tears in her eyes, silently pleading with him, until suddenly a great spasming cough overtook her, and more blood trickled from her mouth, and she took another juddering breath... and fell silent.
Rory's breathing became shallow, as he tried to press himself further backwards, into the wall. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, and looked away, down the corridor, then back - but she was still there, her body, unmoving on the floor. Throwing a hand out to the wall, he slid to his knees, and crawled back to her again.
"Amy... Amy, I'm so sorry... Amy, please... Oh God, please Amy, please-" The words he wanted to say simply caught in his throat, as he reached her, and looked into her eyes, and saw nothing.
Not long after, he'd returned to the opposite wall. He wasn't crying anymore, he felt too empty for that. Instead he sat, his arms supported by his knees, propped up in front of him, and he stared, an exhausted, dead stare that rested on the exanimate body of his wife.
He couldn't comprehend why she hadn't disappeared yet. She shouldn't still be here, shouldn't exist. She was all in his mind. But then, why did her blood still cover him? He glanced away from her, taking a look further down the corridor. The knife, its glinting silver blade dulled with blood, lay where he had thrown it.
It would be a long time before he moved from this spot.
As it turned out, it would be a lot shorter than he thought, but he'd never been more grateful for an interruption.
Not more than a few corridors away, there was a scream. Rory's head snapped up so fast he almost got whiplash - Amy! He scrambled to his feet, and ran to the end of the corridor, but the scream had long faded. He knew which direction to go in, at least.
He turned back in a panic, and stopped short. She'd disappeared. She was gone, and so was the knife. He was right the whole time. He almost wanted to hit his head against the wall; why did he let himself get suckered in like that? Another thought occured to him, and he looked down at himself. No blood. His shirt was unripped, and he lifted it slightly to check his chest... that was whole, too. All the physical pain he'd felt, the scratches from her nails as she fought him, everything he'd seen... The whole thing had been in his head.
The relief he felt washed over him like a wave, almost knocking him to his knees. Without wasting a minute more, he spun around and started to run, in the direction he'd heard the scream.
His vague guess towards how far away she was seemed more or less right - he'd only turned a couple of corners before he heard sobbing, and he picked up the pace, almost running past the opening to one hallway before realising there was movement there. He stared, seeing Amy on her knees, crawling towards one of the archways.
"...Amy?" He could barely get the word out. It seemed so impossible. She screamed, hearing him, and twisted around; but on seeing him, her eyes widened, and she turned to look down the corridor. Rory did too... there didn't seem to be anything here, but maybe she saw things he didn't. He turned his attention back to her as she picked herself up and ran towards him, and he caught her and held her so tightly, so tightly, as it was supposed to be.
She tore herself away, and he could see how drained she looked, as he placed his hands on her face, and they leant their foreheads together. She hit him on the shoulder in frustration before her hands gripped his jacket, and he knew this was really her.
"It's messing with our heads. Come on- run!" She nodded in agreement, clearly as emotionally shot as he was, and the two of them turned and ran, to save the day, as the Doctor's companions did.