Author Note: The following tale is intended as a supplement to the fifth season of Doctor Who broadcast in 2010 and I'd strongly suggest reading it once you've seen the show (not least because there be spoilers here). There's also a fair old bit of story before the filth so you probably want to skip to page 3 if that's what you're after.
Oh, one last thing, this isn't intended to be an entirely accurate portrayal of BDSM but a little more... Hollywood. Anyway, hope you enjoy it and as always feedback whether good, bad or indifferent is more than welcome.
21:00 25th of June, 2010
Roughly 30 minutes from Gloucester the sun was setting over the small English village of Leadworth casting a golden haze over the land. In the garden of a large home on the outskirts of the village the light fell on the rusted iron frame of a swing set, slid over the aged timber of a simple potting shed and, with the sun barely visible on the horizon, caressed the red hair and slender frame of Amy Pond as she stared out of her window. The view before her was truly spectacular, as if the whole world had decided it was time to stop messing about with practice runs and put everything it had into this sunset just in case it was the last chance it got. Under normal circumstances she'd have simply sat and watched, feeling the years slip away to a simpler time. Tonight though, ah, tonight the simpler times had never felt so far gone, yanked away once and for all.
To her right a white dress hung ready for the morning, seemingly glowing in the dying rays of the sun. Almost absentmindedly she reached out and ran a single finger over the silk, lost in her thoughts as they chased each other around and around in her head. She'd been so sure when Rory had proposed and now... No, she was still sure, she loved him and if she was being honest with herself had done for as long as she could remember. No, he wasn't the dashing, carefree adventurer she'd always thought she'd prefer but Rory had, in his own quiet way, convinced her that maybe, just maybe, there was something better. He'd always stood by her, never once made demands or tried to stop her doing something she wanted to do (even the night she told him she was going to be a kissogram had gone smoother than it had any right to, he'd even manage to crack a joke about getting a discount despite clearly being less than thrilled with her choice) and during that insanity with Prisoner Zero two years ago he'd been right by her side. Didn't know what was going on, knew that it was likely dangerous, yet it was as if the idea of turning around and running had never entered his head. Dashing? Carefree? No, not now and probably never. But brave, honest, caring and totally devoted to her? Yeah, she couldn't deny that. And then he'd been there for her when she'd seen that battered old blue box vanish in front of her for the second time. Two years. Two years he'd helped her, never once doubting anything she said and listening to it all despite some of it having to be personally painful to him not to mention her sounding slightly, well, insane at times. No, Rory wasn't the problem. That damn book on the other hand...
He'd left it here by accident she knew. Earlier that day, with all the preparations for the wedding taken care of and so nervous she couldn't possibly sit still, she'd decided to give her bedroom a good top-to-bottom clean. After all, in just 24 hours time she'd be in a position to share it properly and she didn't want anything embarrassing tucked away just waiting to be discovered did she? Then and there she'd decided to make sure that any trace of her raggedy Doctor was hidden away, show Rory that this was indeed a clean start for her. She'd pulled her old suitcase out from under the bed, after all that was where a lot of her older creations where kept anyway, and pulled the remaining dolls and pictures down from her walls. A breeze from the open window had lifted one drawing and sent it fluttering down the side of the table. It was as she had reached down to retrieve it she'd found the book.
Book was maybe being a bit generous, she thought as the sun dipped ever lower towards the horizon, now less than half visible above the distant hills. It was a notebook really, and that's where she'd been caught out as it had looked exactly like the ones she used for everything from shopping lists to a makeshift diary. Not that surprising she supposed, they all came from the Post Office and as it was the only place in the village to buy stationary, no it really shouldn't have been surprising at all that Rory used the same ones. But she hadn't known and had flicked it open at random. She'd smiled when she saw his handwriting and felt her heart flutter as she saw her name at the top of the page. It was a story of some kind and she read the first few lines out of idle curiosity more than anything else.
It was quickly obvious that Rory had written down a daydream about her and as she reached the end of the paragraph she decided it wasn't her place to read it. The last six words of that paragraph though had knocked her for a loop and she'd been unable to put the book down. By the time she'd finished the afternoon had passed to evening and her mental image of Rory had... changed somewhat. She'd had no idea that he had such an active imagination, certainly no idea that he had such a wide range of interests or, for that matter, that he was so skilled at creative writing. She wasn't shocked by the contents, in truth some of what she'd read wasn't too far away from her own fantasies, but suddenly she was beset by doubt. Could she even begin to live up to that image? What would happen if she tried and failed, what if this was what had been keeping Rory interested all these long years? An ideal version of her to which real her would only be a disappointment in comparison. If she messed that up, if she showed she was less than he thought her to be... she couldn't bear that, couldn't bear to loose the best thing in her life. Not again.
The sun finally vanished from sight and shadows spread over the garden. The stars started twinkling above her and for the last time as a single woman she raised her eyes to the heavens. For the last time she gazed up at them and thought of a stranger from those stars and wondered what he was doing now, what life would be like out there, free from responsibility, dancing in myth and legend sorting out the problems of the universe. She clutched the book tightly in her lap and sighed, standing up and stretching suddenly tired limbs. She turned and slid into the warm comfort of her bed, the book slipped under her pillow. The night, the future, beckoned to her and she let it steal over her as she drifted into an edgy, uneasy sleep with the sun shining overhead, carefree days of childhood stretching out long and unending before her and the most wonderful sound in the universe echoing through her dreams, calling her home. Getting louder and louder, closer, dominating the world...
Her eyes snapped open, the dream vanishing but the sound remaining. She raced to the window, heart pounding, not daring to hope. And there, standing upright in her garden, the answer to an unspoken prayer, stood a simple blue box. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared down for a long moment and then she did the only thing she could, the only thing that made sense. She ran. Ran for the door, her right hand grabbing a dressing gown from its hook and the left, seemingly of its own accord, scooping up the book and slipping it into the dressing gown pocket. Ran downstairs. Ran out the door. Ran into the garden. Ran to the light burning on top of that box, ran to her friend standing beside it, ran to the future, to the past, to far flung stars, to wherever he could take her that delayed the present.
23:50 25th June 2010, Several Weeks Later
Amy sat on her bed staring at the Doctor as he looked at the ring she'd just handed him, the comfortable, familiar shape of the TARDIS nestled snuggly in the corner of her room like a full size version of her own home-made dolls. While she was doing her best to hide it she was caught in a trap of her own making and trying desperately to think of a way out.
Originally she'd intended to show the Doctor her wedding dress and explain exactly why she'd chosen to run away with him on the night before the big day. Explain everything, explain how she'd been terrified of failing, of not being good enough to match the version of her she'd seen trapped in words, lovingly bound in Rory's handwriting between the pages of a cheap notebook. Ask him for advice, ask for help, ask for... well, anything really. Maybe even forgiveness for putting herself ahead of the man she loved and looking for answers somewhere else rather than just talking or even just trusting him.
The ring had put paid to that idea. From the moment she'd shown it him and he'd wondered why she hadn't been wearing it she knew she couldn't explain. He was wonderful this Doctor, HER Doctor. She'd seen him in his anger and fury, she'd seen him brave the fire and darkness for people that would never know his name, she'd experienced his forgiveness and kindness first hand and yet, at that moment, she knew that while he would try to understand and help this was something that he'd not be able to understand and there was no way for her to explain it.
Annoyed with herself for even thinking this way, for treating the Doctor as an oracle rather than a person and, more importantly, a friend, she took the ring back and retreated into the familiar ground of sarcasm.
"Why did I leave my engagement ring off when I ran away with a strange man on the night before my wedding? Hmm, you really are an alien aren't you?"
And then it hit her. Maybe she didn't need to explain. Maybe there was a way for the Doctor to reassure her, to give her the confidence she needed. At that moment insecurity and fear and the adrenaline still burning through her system after being moments from death combined to push her onwards and dared her to act.
