For Friday Flash: A bit of fan fiction. This is a piece that fills in what Rory saw in the TARDIS when House was chasing he and Amy in “The Doctor’s Wife”. No major spoilers if you haven’t seen the episode yet (slight, minor bitty thing: explains what was going on with House vs. Rory and Amy.) I hope you enjoy! And comments/feedback are more than welcome.
The Doctor’s Wife
Sliding doors slammed. Rory skidded, smacked the cold metal slab, Amy’s name suddenly the only word he knew. Adrenaline pumped, his yells echoed, fingers, they would they must, slip between the crack and pry the door, open it, find Amy. “Amy!”
And behind him: “Rory?”
Quickly he turned, wide eyes, sweat prickling his flesh. He breathed hard, fast, from running, from worrying, from anger and fear, and then it caught in his throat as he glimpsed his wife. Orange hair piled in loose waves atop her head, pristine as a Greek goddess, and he felt his fear replaced with a wave of desire.
“We thought you’d gone,” she said. Her face was more supple, her figure thicker, stronger, more seductive than thirty seconds before. Left hand rested on the subtle bump of her stomach. The ring she wore was not the one he’d given her.
“Amy,” he whispered.
Her lips trembled, deep breath. “Look at you. You look just exactly like the day you left.”
“I never left,” he said. “I was only just here, and you were there, and…” he trailed off.
Water shimmered in the corner of her eye. “Oh, Rory.” She approached him, arms out. He nestled his fingers into her back, gripping tight, vowing never to lose her again. But she said, “It’s been years. Years. You were gone. You disappeared when House was chasing us. We never heard from you again.” She shook her head.
Rory tried to object, but found words too difficult.
“We had a memorial. We thought you’d gone.”
He eyed the ring on her hand. She grimaced. “It’s the Doctor, Rory.”
His face contorted. It had only been a second, a second, he swore. Had years really passed? Could he blame Amy for taking another husband? He grabbed her hand. “Is House gone?” She nodded. “Then I want to see the Doctor. I have to face him.” Pause. “Amy, it was only a second. You were just there and then you were behind me.”
She began to lead him to the Doctor, but once again a door slammed between them. Again the beating, again the fury, again the voice behind him.
He feared to turn, but needed to see her. She stood calm, simple smile, her hand resting on the head of a young boy. He had red hair, blue eyes, a funny chin, suspenders.
Rory took a deep breath, and whimpered, “Amy.” He ran to her and reached for an embrace.
She pushed him away, gave him a terse look. “I know. It’s probably not been any time at all for you. But,” she looked at the boy, “he doesn’t know. He wouldn’t understand.”
Rory stood, staring at them, his lips trembling, his eyes blurred. He took a few steps back. Gone, she was gone, forever. He’d lost her, finally. To the Doctor.
He finally stepped far enough back, another door closed before him. Defeated, he slid to the floor, curled up in the corner, wept.
Distantly Amy’s voice echoed, yelling inscrutable words. He hung his head, repeating within it, “Gone, gone forever. Amy’s gone.” But he could not resist. Her voice was too desperate. Even if she was the Doctor’s wife, he loved her still, loved her worth waiting 2,000 years alone for her, loved her past the end of the world and back again. He loved her, loved her Doctor if she did, loved her son. He went to her.
As he approached, he found the walls smattered with words, scrawled in her handwriting: It isn’t real. House is messing with you. The closer he got to her yells, the more times it was scraped along the corridor.
Rory began to consider that House was messing with him. Amy hadn’t really married the Doctor. Maybe, just maybe, this was here, now. This must really be Amy.
Jogging toward the noise, hopeful, he began to make out her words. “Doctor,” she yelled. Over and over, the name assaulting Rory. He winced and continued. When he finally found her, she stood next to a set of closed doors, banging it, weeping, fervently yelling for the Doctor.
“Amy,” he said in a low voice.
She gasped and turned. When she saw him her brow creased, her breathing picked up. She pressed herself into the door and yelled again, a screech, a plea: “Doctor!”
“Amy,” he said again. “Amy, it’s okay. I’m here now. It’s House, like the writing. He’s messing with us.”
She trembled, shook her head and said in a tense whisper, “Who are you?”
His own breathing picked up. “Amy, it’s me. It’s Rory.” He stepped toward her.
She pressed herself further into the wall and screamed. “No!” Her voice grew quiet, her words fiery, her tone too familiar. “Don’t come near. I don’t know who you are, or why you know my name, or who sent you. Just go away. Go away!” Her voice rose into a furious shout.
“Amy, it’s me, Rory,” he said, reassuring, desperate. “Your husband.”
She sneered, shook her head. “Sick joke.” The door opened, she stepped through, and it closed again.
Rory took a few deep breaths, and turned to find the writing vanished from the wall. Again he heard Amy yelling in the distance. He bolstered himself, knowing whatever awaited must be worse, more terrifying, but soon he was running again to find her, try to comfort her, clearly horrified in the distance.
He finally came across her weeping terribly, doubled over in the middle of an empty corridor, apologizing profusely to nothing, nothing at all.
“Amy?” he said.
She screamed and turned, surprised to see him. A few deep breaths and then she looked back where she had been weeping, again looking surprised, confused. Amy stood and ran to Rory, pulling him close gripping tight. He finally believed he’d found her, the real Amy. No more illusions, not right now. He pulled away, and held her forehead to his. “It’s messing with our heads. Come on. Run.”