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Title: She's Not There
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Eleven/Amy/Rory as Team TARDIS; discussion of Amy/Rory by Eleven and Rory.
Word Count: 1,132
Rating: T [instances of the f-word, because Rory's an angry grownup]
Warnings: Spoilers for the end of "The Almost People".
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em! I just play in the sandbox.
Summary: ... and his heart was beating harder than ever before except he wasn’t sure it was still there because Amy was gone and it felt like his heart had been ripped out of his fucking chest.
Notes: A fill for the comment_fic prompt Rory - he felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

“But it’s too late to say you’re sorry
How would I know? Why should I care?
Please don’t bother trying to find her—she’s not there.”
- The Zombies

“Stand away from her, Rory.”

Rory fumbled for Amy’s arm, for any part of her, really, needing to hold onto her, to protect her from this man so scarily unlike the one he’d known—they’d known—for months now. Lord knows he has not always trusted the Doctor, has blamed him for a great many things over the years, but he would not let him near his wife if he had any intention of harming her.

“Why?” he asked, so lost, just wondering why the Doctor was going on about needing to see the Flesh in its early stages—what did that have to do with Amy. “No. And… why?” The Doctor wasn’t giving answers. Why wasn’t he giving Rory the answers he was asking for?

“Given what we’ve learned, I’ll try to be as humane as I can, but I need to do this—and you need to—stand—away.” The Doctor’s voice was loud now, frighteningly so, tense and viciously intent on whatever it was he wanted to do.

Rory had never heard that voice aimed at him before. Only at people the Doctor very much disliked—people who were getting in his way.

He looked at Amy, then at the Doctor. Something was wrong here, hideously wrong, and he didn’t know what, but he knew that the Doctor’s concern always had a justifiable cause.

Slowly, he untwined his fingers from their grip on Amy’s arm, backing away slowly, painfully, his breath hitching in his chest.

“No. No,” Amy breathed as he pulled his hand from hers, standing back, still holding her gaze, even as she looked at him like he’d betrayed her. All throughout their childhood, he’d always been the one promising never to leave like the Doctor had. Now he was letting go, and he tried not to let it rip him to pieces.

Amy was looking at the Doctor now, tears in her voice, making her choke on the words. “Doctor, I am frightened. I’m properly, properly scared—”

“Don’t be.” The Doctor was advancing now, coming towards her, standing close. “Hold on. We’re coming for you. Whatever happens, however hard, however far, we will find you.”

He’d reached out his hand to cup her cheek, and Rory was fighting the urge to yell and ask why, what, what in the fucking hell did he mean, ‘find’ her

“I’m right here.” Amy was almost begging now, and he wanted so much to believe her, but why did he have the feeling that he couldn’t—

“No, you’re not. You haven’t been here for a long, long time.”

And the words were about to break free, he was about to yell at the Doctor and demand an explanation, and the Doctor was backing away and raising the sonic screwdriver and—

And he was breathing and Amy was saying what he was thinking, no, and suddenly she dissolved and she wasn’t there at all.

Somehow the Doctor was there to catch him when his knees folded, when he fell to the floor of the TARDIS, retching and heaving whatever he’d last eaten onto the glass floor, trying to look away from the gelatinous heap of Ganger flesh. The Doctor’s hand was on his back, trying to soothe, to comfort, but as soon as Rory had recovered his breath and his senses, he was flying at him and then on top of him, tackling and scratching and screaming.

“How could you not—fucking—TELL ME!” His hands were making contact with the Doctor’s face and he was scraping flesh with his fingernails and somehow tears were running down his cheeks. “Where is she? Where the hell is she?”

“I don’t know yet but I’m working it out—Rory—Rory!” The Doctor was shouting, trying to struggle out of Rory’s hold, but Rory clamped his knees harder around his waist and pinned him to the floor, finally stopping his scratching and planting his hands on the Doctor’s chest, affording him no opportunity to move.

“You didn’t tell me,” he repeated, because that was all he could say, all he could think, and his heart was beating harder than ever before except he wasn’t sure it was still there because Amy was gone and it felt like his heart had been ripped out of his fucking chest.

“I couldn’t risk you telling her, Rory, I’m sorry. And I was never certain until just today—if there had been any other way—”

“I let her save my life,” Rory said, leaning in close and speaking very low, very furiously, so the Doctor would be sure to understand. “I let her breathe into me to save my life, I kissed her, I shared a bed with her, for Christ’s fucking sake, and now you’re telling me she wasn’t even real!”

“Her mind, her soul—Rory, those things that make her Amy, your Amy, those were still there. She was still your wife, on the inside. The makings, that’s all that was different.”

Rory finally eased off the Doctor, but his legs were still unsteady and he remained where he was, sitting on the floor of the TARDIS and wrapping his arms around his knees, pressing his forehead against them. The Doctor sat up but stayed there next to Rory, seemingly unconcerned about his bloodied face.

“Why would they take her?” Rory asked, his voice muffled by his position, and he felt the Doctor’s hand at his shoulder again, a consolation.

“Because she matters to us. Because your child matters.”

“They wouldn’t harm the baby.” He was looking up now, looking right into the Doctor’s eyes, a supplication for answers he knew the Doctor couldn’t give. “They wouldn’t—no one would ever—?”

The Doctor was silent, and Rory knew the answer.

The Doctor’s hand was squeezing now, a pressure Rory knew was meant as more than a comfort—it was a promise. “We will find her, Rory. Her and the baby.”

“You’ve lied before.” He didn’t want to say it, but he had to. “How do I know you’re not lying about this?”

It took some time before the Doctor answered. “Because I’ve lost a wife and children, Rory. Lost them to battle, to war. I won’t let the same happen to you.”

He wanted to ask more, but the Doctor was getting up and heading to the console, adjusting the controls and saying over his shoulder, “There’s Centurion armor in the wardrobe. You’d best suit up. They should know you’re coming. The Last Centurion, keeping Amy Pond safe for all eternity.”

And Rory closed his eyes and hoped the Doctor was right about that.



Jun. 28th, 2011 06:04 am (UTC)
<3 So lovely and heartbreaking. Thanks for filling this!
Jun. 28th, 2011 06:18 pm (UTC)
Glad you enjoyed! As ever, thanks for the great prompt! :D

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