Fic: ‘In his dreams.’
Title: In his dreams.
Fandom: Doctor Who.
Rating: (G)
Time Period: Between A Good Man Goes To War & Let’s Kill Hitler.
Summary: Rory dreams.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
This image, this brief scene has been bugging me for a short while. So, I wrote it.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of the BBC & Steven Moffat; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
He holds her close, bringing her small face to his. He smiles, expression widening as she reaches for his nose.
Which crinkles.
“Amy!”
He’s not above calling for his wife to change dirty nappies.
“Give her to me y’big baby,” she scolds, reaching to take Melody from his arms, cooing to her as they leave the room.
He looks down, away from the window, and, unnoticed, he rubs his eyes. He can’t cry; Amy needs him. She needs his shoulder, his strength, his arms. It doesn’t matter, he’s told himself (and tells himself now). It doesn’t matter that he can’t hold her, kiss her perfect cheek. He has his dreams, waking and asleep, in which to do that. It’s all he needs, he tells himself.
He feels the lie for what it is, even as he thinks it.
“Rory!”
He stands, straightening his expression; she can’t see the moisture on his cheeks, the dream in his eyes.
“Coming!”
He doesn’t look back as he leaves the room, leaving his dream behind.
Fandom: Doctor Who.
Rating: (G)
Time Period: Between A Good Man Goes To War & Let’s Kill Hitler.
Summary: Rory dreams.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
This image, this brief scene has been bugging me for a short while. So, I wrote it.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of the BBC & Steven Moffat; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
He holds her close, bringing her small face to his. He smiles, expression widening as she reaches for his nose.
Which crinkles.
“Amy!”
He’s not above calling for his wife to change dirty nappies.
“Give her to me y’big baby,” she scolds, reaching to take Melody from his arms, cooing to her as they leave the room.
He looks down, away from the window, and, unnoticed, he rubs his eyes. He can’t cry; Amy needs him. She needs his shoulder, his strength, his arms. It doesn’t matter, he’s told himself (and tells himself now). It doesn’t matter that he can’t hold her, kiss her perfect cheek. He has his dreams, waking and asleep, in which to do that. It’s all he needs, he tells himself.
He feels the lie for what it is, even as he thinks it.
“Rory!”
He stands, straightening his expression; she can’t see the moisture on his cheeks, the dream in his eyes.
“Coming!”
He doesn’t look back as he leaves the room, leaving his dream behind.