FIC: Aimless (3/?)
Category: Fanfiction
Title: Aimless (3/?)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Rory/Eleven
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slash, implied M/M sex, blatant abuse of science, AU
Spoilers: Possible mentions of all early Series 5 episodes
Word Count: 2,168
Chapter Summary: The Doctor lives up to his name, and Rory is all alone. Except in his mind. Well, the mind inside his mind.
A/N: To celebrate my first day back at school (just started sophomore year :O), have Chapter 3! Back to Rory's earliest memories, plus some shameless fluff at the end. Enjoy!
Chapter 2
Another hour passes, and Rory finds himself just as bored as he was the first time. It takes the Doctor an extra ten minutes than he said it would, and for sixty two minutes Rory is consumed with utter boredom. He spends every one of those sixty two minutes glaring at the wall opposite him. Well, part of those sixty two minutes. About halfway through his face starts to hurt so he stops.
After sixty two minutes, though, there's a knock at the door.
Rory tenses up, hoping for a minute that it's just his imagination. But then there's another knock. Surprising himself with his speed, he jumps up off the floor and presses himself against the wall opposite the door.
He isn't sure for how long the knocking persists. All he knows is that he spends the whole time trembling in fear. On the other side of a flimsy, wooden door is a creature that could make him forget everything-his whole life. For the first time, it hits him what could happen if it the thing gets to him. He'll forget everything that's ever happened to him. Weekend trips with his dad when he was a kid, seven years old staring at a crazy man with a blue box, meeting Amy, growing up, the people he saved at the hospital, traveling with the Doctor... His stomach clenches at the thought of forgetting everything that's happened between them.
Then, abruptly, the knocking cuts off. Rory tenses, afraid that it's going to come back, but minutes pass and there's nothing, so he lets himself sink down the wall with a gasp of relief and waits fearfully for the Doctor to come back.
When he finally does, Rory jumps up and exclaims, "It came back! The virus, it came back, it was knocking on the door."
"Good," the Doctor says flatly.
"Good?" Rory stares at him in astonishment. "How is that in any way good?"
"It's good because it's still knocking." The Doctor sits down on the floor and stretches his shoulders. "It'll probably try using disguises next. No matter what you hear, don’t open the door. Whatever it wants you to think is out there probably isn’t.”
Rory sits down, too, and they remain in silence for a few moments. Finally, Rory says, "We need to talk."
The Doctor looks up curiously. "About what?"
"About that kiss," Rory answers. "And about... Everything. You and me. What the hell this is."
The Doctor frowns. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"This is why you're rubbish at relationships," Rory grumbles under his breath. Then, louder, "Most people don't just run off after nearly kissing someone to death. They... talk about it. What it means. What each person wants."
"Wants?" the Doctor echoes, and Rory restrains a groan. The man looks genuinely confused, as if he has no idea what Rory's talking about.
"Yes, Doctor," Rory says slowly. This is where his experience with children back at the hospital on Earth comes in handy. "Out of the..." He hesitates to call it a relationship, because what if that's not what the Doctor wants out of this? But he can't think of another word for it, so he settles for, "...relationship."
Something he's said seems to have finally gotten through to him, because the Doctor's eyes light up with understanding and apprehension. "Oh. That's what you mean."
"Yeah." Rory's mouth is dry. He knows what he wants out of this. He's known for a long time. But what the Doctor wants...
Rory's not stupid. He knows there have been others before him. He's not the Doctor's first companion, nor, he suspects, will he be the last. Nine hundred years of time and space and all those companions, he's certain that the Doctor's loved someone before him. If he even loves Rory at all, that is. He wants to run away and hide his face in shame, because he feels like a schoolgirl with a crush.
It’s not just the kiss, though. It’s that night together, when neither of them was completely coherent or knew exactly what they wanted and everything felt right and wrong at the same time and Rory doesn’t know how to feel about that night. It’s the talk of “seducing” the Doctor and the easy way that they throw that night around in conversation like it’s nothing. It’s the holding hands and buying him breakfast and the “Do you trust me?” and protecting him from the virus. With anyone else, it would be fairly obvious what was going on, but this isn’t anyone else. This is the Doctor and Rory knows how he feels and knows what he wants and he doesn’t think he can take rejection from the Doctor of all people because he’s known him since he was seven years old and he’s scared.
He tells himself that they need to have this conversation. He can't put it off to spare his own feelings.
A pained expression comes over the Doctor's face. "Rory, I really don't think now is the best time to be having this conversation. You know, virus trying to destroy your memories and all."
Oh. Yeah.
Rory chuckles weakly. "Uh, good point." But damn it, they need to have this conversation, and soon.
"As soon as we're out of this, though, we'll talk," the Doctor promises, as if he’s read his mind. Rory nods, and then the Doctor's up again. "Right, then, I should probably be on my way." He glances over awkwardly at Rory, like he wants to give him a kiss goodbye but isn't sure if that's a good idea considering the conversation they just avoided having.
Rory sighs and rolls his eyes. He stands up and says, "Get over here."
With a grin, the Doctor practically bounces across the floor to Rory, presses their lips together in a brief, if passionate, kiss, and by the time Rory opens his eyes, he's gone.
---
There's almost no warning at all. Just a brief tingling sensation in the back of his mind, and then it feels like someone's grabbed him by the collar and dragged him headfirst into a pool of water.
Then he's standing at the top of the stairs. He's clutching a blanket tightly in one hand, and gripping the banister with the other. Mummy and Daddy told him to go upstairs and wait for them forever ago, and he got worried. He was going to go downstairs to find out what was going on when he heard the voices.
"How could you even think about doing this?" That's Daddy. "You can't just uproot our family and expect us to come to London with you!"
"And why not?" And there's Mummy. "Give me one good reason why I can't!"
"Well, for one," Daddy growls, "you went behind my back! I didn't know anything about this!"
"Because I knew that if I told you, you would do this!" Mummy exclaims ex-sas-per-ate-ed-ly (that was a word in a book Mummy read to him).
"Of course I would!" Daddy shoots back. "I have a life here! I've got a job, friends, my whole family's here! And so is yours, I might remind you!"
"This could be the biggest opportunity of my career," Mummy says, quieter, but more dangerous than before.
Daddy snorts. "What career? You were nineteen when we got pregnant with Rory. You’ve never worked a day in your life!"
"That didn't seem to bother you too much when you married me!"
"It didn't seem to bother you too much that you were committing to Leadworth when you married me!"
"I wasn't committing to anything," Mummy snaps.
"You were committing to me!"
"Well if you don't want to come, then fine," Mummy tells him angrily. "Stay here, with your stupid little life in this stupid little house in this stupid little town. See if I care!"
"And what about Rory?" Daddy demands. "You just going to leave him here, too? I honestly don't give a damn whether you stay with me or not, but you have a duty to your son. He deserves to have his mother here."
"Rory's a big boy, he'll learn to survive without me."
"He's four years old!" Daddy exclaims in disbelief. "Hasn't even started school yet! How can you say that he's a 'big boy?'" His voice lowers. "Look, as much as I would like to just toss you out on the street, he needs you. Rory needs his mother."
"Don't try to guilt me out of this," Mummy snaps. "I've made my choice. Rory's strong, he won't die without me."
"You can't do this."
"That's not really up to you, is it?"
Again, with just as little warning, he's grabbed by the collar and flung face first into a pool of water, and he emerges, panting, in the gray room. The Doctor's nowhere in sight, and when he checks his watch, only a minute or two has passed.
"What the hell was that?" he breathes in disbelief.
He rests his head back against the wall so he can catch his breath and is surprised to find that he's actually tired. He could almost fall asleep like this. In fact, it's not long before he feels his eyes drift shut, and without him even realizing it, he's asleep.
This time, it's almost like a dream. There's that pulling sensation, and he surfaces in a bed that seems huge, lying on his side and staring up into a set of sad green eyes.
"Are you really leaving?" he asks.
Mummy gives him a sad smile and pushes his hair back from his face. "I'm afraid so," she murmurs.
"Forever?" he whispers.
Mummy bites her bottom lip. "Oh, Rory, baby, I hope not. I promise, I'll be back for your birthday, okay?"
"But that's in like a million years!" he protests desperately. "You can't go away for that long!"
"I wish it wasn't that long," she murmurs. "I wish you could come with me, but you have to stay here with Daddy. It's safer here, and you've got friends."
"I don't want you to go," Rory whimpers, reaching out and wrapping his fingers in the fabric of her shirt, as if holding on will keep her here.
"I know, Rory, sweetheart." She wipes away a tear on his cheek that he hadn't realized was there. "I'm so sorry, baby."
A tear runs down her cheek, and, mirroring her earlier move, Rory brushes it away with his palm. His hand looks so small, resting there on her face, and she turns her head to kiss it gently. "I'll see you again," she promises. "Be good for Daddy, okay?"
He nods, and she bends down to kiss his forehead. “I love you,” she whispers.
Again he’s pulled forward, but this time, it’s into the dark bliss of sleep.
---
He awakes as he almost always does-groggy and confused. He pauses a moment so that he can take stock of his surroundings. Gravity tells him he’s lying on his side, his face pillowed on something he can’t see. There’s a gentle touch on top of his head, like someone running their fingers through his hair. He blinks a couple of times so his eyes can adjust to the light.
“Morning, sunshine,” murmurs a soft voice. He glances up to see the Doctor looking down at him, Rory’s head in his lap.
“When did you get back?” Rory mumbles, still feeling a bit tired.
“Only about ten minutes ago,” the Doctor responds. He gently runs his thumb over Rory’s temple. “I thought I’d wait for you to wake up before going back out.”
For a moment, Rory contemplates sitting up. On the one hand, he’s extremely comfortable, and the Doctor doesn’t seem to mind. On the other hand, it’s a bit awkward to talk like this. Finally, with a grunt, he turns so that he’s lying on his back, staring up into the Doctor’s face.
“What was that?” Rory asks him.
“I’m guessing you felt that one,” the Doctor says with a wry smile. “Or two. I probably should have warned you about that. You’ll relive the more powerful memories as I get through them. It’s obviously a bit tiring.” He gestures toward the way Rory’s laid out.
“You can say that again,” Rory grumbles.
The Doctor’s smile loses its wryness, becomes more genuine. “You’ll be fine as long as you get some rest,” he promises. He bends and gives Rory a kiss on the forehead. “I should probably get going,” he adds in a murmur.
Rory groans and turns his head so that his face is pressed into the Doctor’s stomach. “Don’t make me get up,” he mumbles, his voice muffled through the shirt.
The Doctor chuckles. “Sorry, Rory.” He gives Rory a pat on the shoulder. “Come on, now, get up.”
With great show, Rory sits up with a grumble. The Doctor gives him a swift kiss, and, before Rory can even get out another word, he’s gone.
Chapter 4
Title: Aimless (3/?)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Rory/Eleven
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slash, implied M/M sex, blatant abuse of science, AU
Spoilers: Possible mentions of all early Series 5 episodes
Word Count: 2,168
Chapter Summary: The Doctor lives up to his name, and Rory is all alone. Except in his mind. Well, the mind inside his mind.
A/N: To celebrate my first day back at school (just started sophomore year :O), have Chapter 3! Back to Rory's earliest memories, plus some shameless fluff at the end. Enjoy!
Chapter 2
Another hour passes, and Rory finds himself just as bored as he was the first time. It takes the Doctor an extra ten minutes than he said it would, and for sixty two minutes Rory is consumed with utter boredom. He spends every one of those sixty two minutes glaring at the wall opposite him. Well, part of those sixty two minutes. About halfway through his face starts to hurt so he stops.
After sixty two minutes, though, there's a knock at the door.
Rory tenses up, hoping for a minute that it's just his imagination. But then there's another knock. Surprising himself with his speed, he jumps up off the floor and presses himself against the wall opposite the door.
He isn't sure for how long the knocking persists. All he knows is that he spends the whole time trembling in fear. On the other side of a flimsy, wooden door is a creature that could make him forget everything-his whole life. For the first time, it hits him what could happen if it the thing gets to him. He'll forget everything that's ever happened to him. Weekend trips with his dad when he was a kid, seven years old staring at a crazy man with a blue box, meeting Amy, growing up, the people he saved at the hospital, traveling with the Doctor... His stomach clenches at the thought of forgetting everything that's happened between them.
Then, abruptly, the knocking cuts off. Rory tenses, afraid that it's going to come back, but minutes pass and there's nothing, so he lets himself sink down the wall with a gasp of relief and waits fearfully for the Doctor to come back.
When he finally does, Rory jumps up and exclaims, "It came back! The virus, it came back, it was knocking on the door."
"Good," the Doctor says flatly.
"Good?" Rory stares at him in astonishment. "How is that in any way good?"
"It's good because it's still knocking." The Doctor sits down on the floor and stretches his shoulders. "It'll probably try using disguises next. No matter what you hear, don’t open the door. Whatever it wants you to think is out there probably isn’t.”
Rory sits down, too, and they remain in silence for a few moments. Finally, Rory says, "We need to talk."
The Doctor looks up curiously. "About what?"
"About that kiss," Rory answers. "And about... Everything. You and me. What the hell this is."
The Doctor frowns. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"This is why you're rubbish at relationships," Rory grumbles under his breath. Then, louder, "Most people don't just run off after nearly kissing someone to death. They... talk about it. What it means. What each person wants."
"Wants?" the Doctor echoes, and Rory restrains a groan. The man looks genuinely confused, as if he has no idea what Rory's talking about.
"Yes, Doctor," Rory says slowly. This is where his experience with children back at the hospital on Earth comes in handy. "Out of the..." He hesitates to call it a relationship, because what if that's not what the Doctor wants out of this? But he can't think of another word for it, so he settles for, "...relationship."
Something he's said seems to have finally gotten through to him, because the Doctor's eyes light up with understanding and apprehension. "Oh. That's what you mean."
"Yeah." Rory's mouth is dry. He knows what he wants out of this. He's known for a long time. But what the Doctor wants...
Rory's not stupid. He knows there have been others before him. He's not the Doctor's first companion, nor, he suspects, will he be the last. Nine hundred years of time and space and all those companions, he's certain that the Doctor's loved someone before him. If he even loves Rory at all, that is. He wants to run away and hide his face in shame, because he feels like a schoolgirl with a crush.
It’s not just the kiss, though. It’s that night together, when neither of them was completely coherent or knew exactly what they wanted and everything felt right and wrong at the same time and Rory doesn’t know how to feel about that night. It’s the talk of “seducing” the Doctor and the easy way that they throw that night around in conversation like it’s nothing. It’s the holding hands and buying him breakfast and the “Do you trust me?” and protecting him from the virus. With anyone else, it would be fairly obvious what was going on, but this isn’t anyone else. This is the Doctor and Rory knows how he feels and knows what he wants and he doesn’t think he can take rejection from the Doctor of all people because he’s known him since he was seven years old and he’s scared.
He tells himself that they need to have this conversation. He can't put it off to spare his own feelings.
A pained expression comes over the Doctor's face. "Rory, I really don't think now is the best time to be having this conversation. You know, virus trying to destroy your memories and all."
Oh. Yeah.
Rory chuckles weakly. "Uh, good point." But damn it, they need to have this conversation, and soon.
"As soon as we're out of this, though, we'll talk," the Doctor promises, as if he’s read his mind. Rory nods, and then the Doctor's up again. "Right, then, I should probably be on my way." He glances over awkwardly at Rory, like he wants to give him a kiss goodbye but isn't sure if that's a good idea considering the conversation they just avoided having.
Rory sighs and rolls his eyes. He stands up and says, "Get over here."
With a grin, the Doctor practically bounces across the floor to Rory, presses their lips together in a brief, if passionate, kiss, and by the time Rory opens his eyes, he's gone.
---
There's almost no warning at all. Just a brief tingling sensation in the back of his mind, and then it feels like someone's grabbed him by the collar and dragged him headfirst into a pool of water.
Then he's standing at the top of the stairs. He's clutching a blanket tightly in one hand, and gripping the banister with the other. Mummy and Daddy told him to go upstairs and wait for them forever ago, and he got worried. He was going to go downstairs to find out what was going on when he heard the voices.
"How could you even think about doing this?" That's Daddy. "You can't just uproot our family and expect us to come to London with you!"
"And why not?" And there's Mummy. "Give me one good reason why I can't!"
"Well, for one," Daddy growls, "you went behind my back! I didn't know anything about this!"
"Because I knew that if I told you, you would do this!" Mummy exclaims ex-sas-per-ate-ed-ly (that was a word in a book Mummy read to him).
"Of course I would!" Daddy shoots back. "I have a life here! I've got a job, friends, my whole family's here! And so is yours, I might remind you!"
"This could be the biggest opportunity of my career," Mummy says, quieter, but more dangerous than before.
Daddy snorts. "What career? You were nineteen when we got pregnant with Rory. You’ve never worked a day in your life!"
"That didn't seem to bother you too much when you married me!"
"It didn't seem to bother you too much that you were committing to Leadworth when you married me!"
"I wasn't committing to anything," Mummy snaps.
"You were committing to me!"
"Well if you don't want to come, then fine," Mummy tells him angrily. "Stay here, with your stupid little life in this stupid little house in this stupid little town. See if I care!"
"And what about Rory?" Daddy demands. "You just going to leave him here, too? I honestly don't give a damn whether you stay with me or not, but you have a duty to your son. He deserves to have his mother here."
"Rory's a big boy, he'll learn to survive without me."
"He's four years old!" Daddy exclaims in disbelief. "Hasn't even started school yet! How can you say that he's a 'big boy?'" His voice lowers. "Look, as much as I would like to just toss you out on the street, he needs you. Rory needs his mother."
"Don't try to guilt me out of this," Mummy snaps. "I've made my choice. Rory's strong, he won't die without me."
"You can't do this."
"That's not really up to you, is it?"
Again, with just as little warning, he's grabbed by the collar and flung face first into a pool of water, and he emerges, panting, in the gray room. The Doctor's nowhere in sight, and when he checks his watch, only a minute or two has passed.
"What the hell was that?" he breathes in disbelief.
He rests his head back against the wall so he can catch his breath and is surprised to find that he's actually tired. He could almost fall asleep like this. In fact, it's not long before he feels his eyes drift shut, and without him even realizing it, he's asleep.
This time, it's almost like a dream. There's that pulling sensation, and he surfaces in a bed that seems huge, lying on his side and staring up into a set of sad green eyes.
"Are you really leaving?" he asks.
Mummy gives him a sad smile and pushes his hair back from his face. "I'm afraid so," she murmurs.
"Forever?" he whispers.
Mummy bites her bottom lip. "Oh, Rory, baby, I hope not. I promise, I'll be back for your birthday, okay?"
"But that's in like a million years!" he protests desperately. "You can't go away for that long!"
"I wish it wasn't that long," she murmurs. "I wish you could come with me, but you have to stay here with Daddy. It's safer here, and you've got friends."
"I don't want you to go," Rory whimpers, reaching out and wrapping his fingers in the fabric of her shirt, as if holding on will keep her here.
"I know, Rory, sweetheart." She wipes away a tear on his cheek that he hadn't realized was there. "I'm so sorry, baby."
A tear runs down her cheek, and, mirroring her earlier move, Rory brushes it away with his palm. His hand looks so small, resting there on her face, and she turns her head to kiss it gently. "I'll see you again," she promises. "Be good for Daddy, okay?"
He nods, and she bends down to kiss his forehead. “I love you,” she whispers.
Again he’s pulled forward, but this time, it’s into the dark bliss of sleep.
---
He awakes as he almost always does-groggy and confused. He pauses a moment so that he can take stock of his surroundings. Gravity tells him he’s lying on his side, his face pillowed on something he can’t see. There’s a gentle touch on top of his head, like someone running their fingers through his hair. He blinks a couple of times so his eyes can adjust to the light.
“Morning, sunshine,” murmurs a soft voice. He glances up to see the Doctor looking down at him, Rory’s head in his lap.
“When did you get back?” Rory mumbles, still feeling a bit tired.
“Only about ten minutes ago,” the Doctor responds. He gently runs his thumb over Rory’s temple. “I thought I’d wait for you to wake up before going back out.”
For a moment, Rory contemplates sitting up. On the one hand, he’s extremely comfortable, and the Doctor doesn’t seem to mind. On the other hand, it’s a bit awkward to talk like this. Finally, with a grunt, he turns so that he’s lying on his back, staring up into the Doctor’s face.
“What was that?” Rory asks him.
“I’m guessing you felt that one,” the Doctor says with a wry smile. “Or two. I probably should have warned you about that. You’ll relive the more powerful memories as I get through them. It’s obviously a bit tiring.” He gestures toward the way Rory’s laid out.
“You can say that again,” Rory grumbles.
The Doctor’s smile loses its wryness, becomes more genuine. “You’ll be fine as long as you get some rest,” he promises. He bends and gives Rory a kiss on the forehead. “I should probably get going,” he adds in a murmur.
Rory groans and turns his head so that his face is pressed into the Doctor’s stomach. “Don’t make me get up,” he mumbles, his voice muffled through the shirt.
The Doctor chuckles. “Sorry, Rory.” He gives Rory a pat on the shoulder. “Come on, now, get up.”
With great show, Rory sits up with a grumble. The Doctor gives him a swift kiss, and, before Rory can even get out another word, he’s gone.
Chapter 4