Doctor Who: Sleep Well, G
Title: Sleep Well
Pairing: Amy/Rory
Rating: G
Word Count: 300
Written for: who_contest, challenge #1. Theme is 'night'.
Summary: Amelia used to sleepwalk. Gen.
Sleep Well
She sleepwalked, for a while, after he didn't come back.
She would wake to the stars, which was lovely and all, but her head would hurt and the back of her nightie would be grass-damp. Mud might cling to her calves. In the winter, she woke quickly, shivering, pausing only for a moment to take in the sky before pattering back inside. In the summer, there would be the tickle of some insect across her skin, but Amelia Pond was never scared of insects. Or even spiders.
She always woke alone.
Her aunt frowned at the grass stains in the morning, but never said anything. Amelia had to wash her own clothes a lot. While the washing machine whirred, she picked out plastic cups from the cupboard and made a Raggedy Doctor.
One night, she woke still clutching her Raggedy Doctor in her hand, and if she listened hard, she could almost hear him saying something about fish fingers and custard.
After a year or so, the sleepwalking stopped.
But then Amy opened her eyes and she was seven years old again. Her bones remembered the ache of sleeping outside. Her breath puffed white up into the surprising expanse of sky above.
But she'd grown. The stars looked smaller now. If anyone asked, she would say they were less beautiful, too.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and felt someone's footsteps thudding close.
She wasn't alone.
"Amy? It's freezing out here."
Rory's warm hand fell on her cheek. She wasn't alone. She reached up and put her hand over his. He seemed to hesitate, but eventually he lay down beside her. He didn't ask, but she said, "This is where I waited," and he understood.
She opened her eyes again. The stars weren't any less beautiful. Not at all.
Pairing: Amy/Rory
Rating: G
Word Count: 300
Written for: who_contest, challenge #1. Theme is 'night'.
Summary: Amelia used to sleepwalk. Gen.
Sleep Well
She sleepwalked, for a while, after he didn't come back.
She would wake to the stars, which was lovely and all, but her head would hurt and the back of her nightie would be grass-damp. Mud might cling to her calves. In the winter, she woke quickly, shivering, pausing only for a moment to take in the sky before pattering back inside. In the summer, there would be the tickle of some insect across her skin, but Amelia Pond was never scared of insects. Or even spiders.
She always woke alone.
Her aunt frowned at the grass stains in the morning, but never said anything. Amelia had to wash her own clothes a lot. While the washing machine whirred, she picked out plastic cups from the cupboard and made a Raggedy Doctor.
One night, she woke still clutching her Raggedy Doctor in her hand, and if she listened hard, she could almost hear him saying something about fish fingers and custard.
After a year or so, the sleepwalking stopped.
But then Amy opened her eyes and she was seven years old again. Her bones remembered the ache of sleeping outside. Her breath puffed white up into the surprising expanse of sky above.
But she'd grown. The stars looked smaller now. If anyone asked, she would say they were less beautiful, too.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and felt someone's footsteps thudding close.
She wasn't alone.
"Amy? It's freezing out here."
Rory's warm hand fell on her cheek. She wasn't alone. She reached up and put her hand over his. He seemed to hesitate, but eventually he lay down beside her. He didn't ask, but she said, "This is where I waited," and he understood.
She opened her eyes again. The stars weren't any less beautiful. Not at all.