time is all around us
Title: time is all around us
Characters: The Doctor, Amy Pond, & Rory Pond
Rating: M (suggestive themes/rated for other chapters)
Summary: These creatures pluck out the deepest, darkest desire of a person (or alien's) heart and they make it true. So, when the Doctor & his companions stop their home from experiencing devastating war; they thank him the only way they know how. “She shall be his...”
Note: I had this fic floating around in my head for a long time. Every morning I would wake up with a new idea, a new something, so I decided to sit down and type-type-type it out! Comments/Feedback is lovely. I hope you enjoy it!
Note #2: Also; there is a lot of Greek in here, I don't know Greek, honestly---so if it's incorrect...then um...er...damn! I did that intentionally, just to add to the mystery (/shrug) and I thought it would be cool if the TARDIS didn't translate everything. Okay! I'm done blubbering. Enjoy!
Epithymia ; when the Doctor pronounced the name, Amy's first thought was that it sounds a bit like a disease.
“So, never turn down anything-it's extremely rude!” The Doctor said flipping a few switches on the console. He was prancing about like some mad professor. “It's actually punishable by death-so--don't ever reject a gift!”
“What if...it's y'know, dangerous? Poisonous?” Rory spoke up, uncertainty in his tone. Amy played with her scarf around her neck, she was just anxious to go somewhere new.
The Doctor shook his head, “No, no, they wouldn't do something like that. But if you're unsure about some food or drink-I can sonic it!” The TARDIS landed with a slight thud, jostling its companions and the Doctor hurried to the door. The sweet aroma of flowers and fresh air wafted into the TARDIS. Amy took Rory's hand and they caught up with the Doctor.
Epithymia. A place both dark and beautiful. The trees towered above them, dark, twisted, gnarly roots that looked like they could hide something beneath them. A few feet ahead lay the large settlement, where Amy could see tall creatures moving about.
The bazaar was constructed of bright fabrics, jewelry hanging, food being cooked and wine being drank. The women were gorgeous, their faces like ivory, and their hair shining in the warm light of the sun. The men stood just a few inches taller than their women. “Oh wow.” Amy breathed out, seeing an ivory (what she thought was a tattoo) on a woman's face shift and change into a tribal mark around her left eye.
“Quite brilliant, the markings represent status but also tie into their emotions.” The Doctor explained, his mad grin reaching ear to ear as he took in his companions bewildered expressions. The people of Epithymia were humanoid, if you dismiss the sharp teeth and abnormal height (the average height being 6 feet 7 inches). A bit of a neck sore if you got into a prolonged conversation!
At the center of the bazaar, a band was playing, and everyone was dancing about. The Doctor threw his arms around both his companions. The area circling the bazaar was tall pillars of white marble, buildings constructed out of the same material but, decorated in flowers and paintings. Everything shimmered with life.
“Every day is a celebration for them.” He said, watching the maiden's move about in their breezy dresses while the mother's went about in deep-colored togas. Children (who were Amy's height) helped their mothers carry baskets of fruit and herbs.
The Doctor led them to the largest building of them all. “Is this a museum? Are you keeping score on other planets?” Amy asked with a smile.
“Even better.” The Doctor said before pushing aside the curtain; the planet was too warm for doors. And oh was he right. The building had a high arched ceiling, covered in glass, so you could see the bright orange sky in all its glory. That wasn't the best part. No, there was an old man, his knobby fingers plucking and sliding along an ornate harp.
The music actually brought tears to Amy's eyes. The man's beard was a salt and pepper gray, his eyes closed, and his body tan and covered in changing marks. They crawled along his skin and swayed with the music.
The Doctor caught her expression-he wanted nothing more than to take her hand, but Rory had that covered. His eyes went back to the harpist. The music blossomed and the sky above gave a low rumble of thunder. The song continued, slowing down, until the man ran his fingers along the strings for a final note and silence draped across the large room. His eyes opened and he smiled upon seeing the Doctor.
“Doctor. It has been too long.” The elder got to his feet and the Doctor shook his hand warmly. “Nearly ...two centuries, yes?” The elder looked at his red haired companion and the boy at her side. He blinked and then looked back at the Doctor. 'Ahhh, I see. Do you see, Doctor? Hmm. I have seen them, they wish to travel with you forever just to simply be with you; but this one...the one with hair like fire. She wishes to travel forever with you-to travel. Having you with her simply a wonderful bonus.'
“You said there was a problem?” The Doctor clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his heels. Problems are what he fixed! That's what he did. The elder nodded and then motioned for the three to follow him. They walked outside and to the middle of the bazaar where a fire was being built for the night. The elder reached into a pouch that was strapped around his waist, his frail body wrapped in a black toga.
He threw purple colored ash into the wood. “Hush.” His voice was barely above a whisper but suddenly; all movement in the bazaar settled. Children stopped running. Merchants stopped selling their wares. Rory stared at the elder-to have so much control, what was this man, besides old? Or did they just listen to him because he was old? Rory glanced at the Doctor.
“They came from the Wood.” He began, the fire being lit, and its flames turning blue. “We know of our Neighbors, Doctor. But for centuries, centuries, and centuries-we have lived in harmony, though separate.” There was something about the way this man spoke. It was rhythmic. His pauses were deliberate and his voice was smooth.
That's when Amy noticed something a little off. She looked at the Doctor and Rory, who were both paying attention to the elder. They hadn't noticed. Everything was still, everything was quiet, except for the crackling of the fire and the elder's voice. So why was that sheet over there moving? Amy kept glancing over at it...
“They spoke of prophecies.” The elder pressed his fingertips together. “They spoke of our waters rising up and drowning. They spoke of our trees lifting from their roots and trampling us. Nature turning on us. We took their warning...”
“Surely you didn't call me out just because of some prophecy.” The Doctor said, his eyes narrowing, he was tired of prophecies. Most of the time they weren't even true; they just happened because you made them happen.
The elder smiled but there was no warmth in the gesture. “I am old, but I am not stupid.”
The sheet moved again and Amy's eyes snapped to it.
“They, our Neighbors, are building something. They believe this prophecy and think the only way to stop it from coming true...is to destroy us.” There was a slight mummer in the crowd then. Anxiety and fear. Amy saw a shadow move...no it actually moved...and it was moving towards them. She gasped as the shadow took shape behind the elder.
Was she only one paying bloody attention!? The Doctor saw it as Amy gasped. Amy tore her hand from Rory's and gave the elder and quick shove out-of-the-way, “Move!” She shouted quickly as the shadow turned into a person. Well, an alien. It was an alien.
The bazaar erupted with activity, everyone moving to circle and protect the elder, while others stood beside Amy and faced the creature. The Doctor felt his hearts beat a little faster; Amelia Pond just stopped the planet's most influential and important being from being killed.
It was a man, dark skin, with white markings covering his body. His lips twisted into a snarl. “Woman! Do you know what you have done?”
“Stopped you from stabbing a defenseless person in the back?” Amy quipped back. The man brought back his arm and was nearly a second away from striking Amy-when someone grabbed his arm. His head whipped over to see the foolish creature who dared to touch him.
“Hello! I'm the Doctor and you are not lying a hand on her.” His tone somehow a mix of threatening and cheery, “Or anyone for that matter.” His grip on the man's arm tightened and his eyes narrowed. The Doctor let his arm go and by this point; the assassin had several spears at his throat.
“Nobody is killing anyone today!” The Doctor said quickly, waving his hands. The elder cleared his throat and the spears were lowered-slightly.
“Amy, are you alright?” Rory asked and Amy grinned at him.
“I'm fine!” It was the honest answer, really, it was. Aside from a bit of an adrenaline rush, Amy had no real complaints. The Doctor stood there, in between the elder and his attacker, trying to figure out what purpose the Neighbors would have by killing this elder. Yes, he was widely respected and the oldest here (aside from himself).
“Why?” The Doctor asked, “Why him?”
“He knows old magic. His blasted harp! It can bewitch, it could destroy, it's not safe!” The man announced loudly.
“He's been playing that ol' thing forever! You just want someone to blame...” The Doctor may have been looking up at him; but it was the Doctor who was the intimidating presence here. “What is it? Crops failing? Cattle dying? What could be so devastating that you'd wish to start a war with people you have lived side-by-side with since the birth of the planet?!”
“The prophecy...” He began, glaring down at the Doctor.
The Doctor grinned and cut him off; “Yes, yes, waves will rise up.” He waved his hand, “Who wrote it?”
Silence.
“Ah. You don't know.” The Doctor twirled on his heel and looked at the elder, “Where do you write your music?” Amy could practically feel the excitement radiating off the Doctor. He had figured it out-and of course he did. But, she stopped an assassination. Score one for Amy Pond.
“By the fields...by the river...” The elder suddenly stopped his speech and looked at the Doctor. His eyes filled with understanding. “Oh dear.” The Doctor ran up the steps to the large building where they first met the elder. On the floor near his harp were scraps of parchment, music sheets, and little poems. He grabbed a handful (very careful not to knock over the harp) and ran back outside.
He chucked the handful of poems at the sulking assassin. “It's poetry!” He laughed, “The prophecy was a poem he wrote and it must have gotten over to your city-but not knowing the author or where it came from you assumed it came from the sky! Didn't you?”
“Go back...tell them of the misunderstanding.”
“No.” The elder spoke, “I will go and this young man will escort me.” He walked forward and extended his hand to the assassin.
“What?!” Amy placed her hands on her hips, “Are we forgetting that this guy tried to off ya just barely two minutes ago!?”
Rory caught the Doctor's smile. Even if he and Amy were married; happily married, he still got that twist in his gut when the Doctor looked at her. The twist intensified when they shared looks with each other, secret jokes, little smiles, and the way he kissed her forehead.
The elder looked at Amy and Amy suddenly felt like those eyes were boring into her. Staring right down into her gut and cracking open her ribcage to examine her heart and soul. The elder blinked and the feeling was gone. “I shall settle this matter and then we shall celebrate!”
There was an uproar of approval and clapping. “Do stay, Doctor. I have a gift for you.”
“Ah n--” The Doctor stopped himself from turning down the gift. Very, very bad idea that was. “We will be here!”
that evening;
The fire had turned a rosy hue and the sky was dark-decorated with a billion stars. The merchant's stalls had been packed away but the town was exploding with life. Stringed instruments played a jaunty tune that got everyone moving. Women flirted, danced, and kissed. Men courted, twirled their partners, and whispered sweet nothing's in their ear. No one danced with the same person twice.
The Doctor chuckled, twirling Amy in his arms, for the moment; it was just the two of them. His tweed jacket had been discarded and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. Her cheeks were flush from the wine and all the heat from the bodies and the fire.
“It's so lovely!” She sang into his ear.
“Yes, yes it is.” He agreed, stealing a second to smell her hair and enjoy the feel of those gorgeous locks brushing against his cheek. It was wrong, he knew that, Rory was dancing with a blonde woman just a few feet away. But he wasn't going to kiss her, or hold her close, or do any of those things that he wanted to because; she was not his.
That was okay. It was. It was. It was.
Amy smiled and she took the hand of a man with straight, black hair. He had a bouquet of red flowers around his neck. He called her 'exquisite.' She danced away from the Doctor. He ignored that ache just below his heart. It was probably indigestion, anyways.
The fire turned blue and everyone stopped, mid-laugh, mid-dance, mid-drink...a few sputtered out said drink in order to pay attention. “Amelia Pond, you saved me. I am ever-so grateful.” The elder bowed slightly and Amy flushed.
“That is why, I have a gift for you, Amelia. If you'll follow me...” The elder said with a soft motion of his hand. Amy looked over at the Doctor and Rory and smirked. She couldn't fathom what it was going to be. The Doctor opened his mouth to ask what the gift was but that was also a big no-no on this planet.
“Didn't he owe you something as well?” Rory asked, stealthily pouring the rest of his wine into someones' cup.
The Doctor swallowed, “I believe so...but I have enough stuff in the TARDIS!” The Doctor smiled but his insides were ice cold. The elder had taken Amy away (she could take care of herself, he wasn't worried about that). He was worried about what this gift was.
He recalled the look that the elder had given him when they first reunited. A deep, soul-searching look and the Doctor had immediately threw his defenses up. He had given the same look to Amy; but Amy didn't know-how could she? He should have told them! The younger ones weren't so capable, but the elder? He was an expert. He could get into your head, see what you desired most, and get out in a matter of seconds. No pain, no touching, just a look.
“Doctor?”
“H-oh sorry, I was thinking. What were you saying?”
“I was telling you that you have a spider on your leg.”
“What!? Gah!” The Doctor shook it off, “I hate spiders!”
Amy took in the newly decorated chamber. She could see all the stars above her head, which filled the room with a soft light, and there were now plush pillows on the floor. A few candles here and there as well. The elder had taken his seat next to his harp.
There was a cream colored pillow right near him; Amy could only assume it was for her.
She sat down with her legs tucked underneath her, “So then, have you written me a song?”
The elder plucked a string. “Indeed I have, fair Amelia.” He began to play, the song sorrowful but suddenly gaining and become more wistful-dreamlike. Amy yawned behind her hand; not meaning to be rude but also not able to help herself.
Sleep was scarce when it came to traveling with the Doctor.
“Rest now, magnificent Amelia--
for your heart sings to us,
and I'll shall follow its melody...”
Amy blinked a few times-was that...what was that-gold dust? She yawned again and he kept playing. She couldn't keep her eyes open and she slumped to the floor, her head falling delicately onto the pillows, and the harp song washing over her.
The elder continued his song until the gold dust had surrounded her. He changed the tune and the clouds covered up some of the stars, so most of the light was on her, and she was breathing it in. Old magic, stardust, and before his very, very old eyes he watched Amelia change.
She did not change physically, no, her hair was the same. Her body was the same.
It was on the inside that he changed. “I gave him what he desired most, what she desired most...” He muttered to himself, his hands returning to their song. “You shall be his Ainonios Eratis.” The gold dust had settled, sunken into her skin and been breathed in through her lungs. The stardust sparkled her hair and he changed the song again so that the clouds dispersed.
“How lucky you are, dear Amelia. How blessed and cursed.” The elder stopped playing because he was suddenly alarmed at the wetness on his face. How many decades had it been since he cried? And for what reason was he crying? “Very few are fortunate enough to live so, so long. And to live...to live beside someone...ah...makes me think of my dear beloved. I shall play you her song.”
The Doctor was anxious. He was beyond anxious. He paced back and forth, avoided the crowd so he wouldn't be sucked into dancing, and he checked his watch nearly every five seconds. He heard the harp song. His first thought was; Oh, he's just playing her a song. How very kind, Amy will enjoy that...
It has been thirty minutes and four-five-six-seven-eight-nine seconds since she walked in. 'Is she alright? Should I pop in? Make sure all is well? Oh why the bloody hell not! Where's Rory?'
“Rory!” The Doctor yelled with enthusiasm, because at least that could hide his concern. “Come on, let's go check on Pond!”
Neither of her boys were prepared to see what they saw when they walked through the curtain. The elder playing on his harp, the song warm, kind, inviting-and beautiful Amelia Pond fast asleep nearby. The Doctor let out a 'whoosh' of breath before taking long strides to reach them.
“Ah, fell asleep did she?” The Doctor said, crouching down and looking at Amy with such fondness, such tender affection, that the elder looked away. He felt as if he was invading on a private moment.
“I'm afraid so.” The elder chuckled warmly, his eyes meeting Rorys'. Ah, such jealousy will get you killed, boy. Do forgive me, will you? In my old age...I often forget consequences...the domino effect of my actions. He saw the Doctor move out of the corner of his eye and he looked, Amy Pond scooped up into his arms, still sleeping soundly.
The Doctor couldn't help but feel like something was off. He wanted to get the TARDIS and figure it out right away. Amy did not stir in his arms, her breathing was soft, and she felt warmer than he thought she would. Perhaps she caught a fever?
Then, there was this mental tug and he looked at the elder. “You know...” He began, but then decided to change what he was going to say, “You are welcome to return at any time...” The elder closed his eyes and went back to his harp.
“What's wrong?” Rory asked as they weaved around the still-dancing crowd. He jogged to keep up with the Doctor, who's jaw was set and his eyes burning.
“I think Amy's sick.” The Doctor said, passing the dead weight over to Rory's arms as he fished out his TARDIS key. “I don't know. She feels warm, too warm, and she hasn't even flinched.”
Rory looked at his wife, “You're right. When have we ever known her to be a heavy sleeper?”
“Exactly!” The Doctor moved quickly so Rory could carry her across the threshold. “Get her to the med bay.” The Doctor instructed and Rory nodded. When it came to Amy, at least when it came to her well-being, they were on the same page and fiercely so. There was no competition.
The TARDIS pressed at the Doctor's temple, she's different, she's different, she's different! What happened?! He could feel her worry mix into his own. The TARDIS knew more than he did, she knew right when Amy returned, but it seemed the Doctor hadn't exactly figured it out yet.
The TARDIS wasn't going to push him-he is clever, he'd find it out on his own.
Rory settled Amy down in one of the beds and he looked around for some type of regular medical instrument. Anything, really. He found all sorts of salves, medications, bandages, a magnifying glass, some tea...tea?! Why would there be tea in the medical bay? Rory used the back of his hand to feel Amy's forehead. She was cold...
The TARDIS gives a little shake and then they're off, into the time vortex, and the Doctor pats the console; lovingly. “Yes, dear. I'm worried too.” He admitted to his ship.
“Doctor!”
The Doctor jumped out of his skin. Amy! Is she awake? Why did Rory sound like that? He knocked over a lamp (why is there a lamp in the hallway, love? ) on his way to the med bay.
“She's colder now.”
The Doctor pulled his sonic out from his pocket, the comforting feel of it being in his hand, and he checks the settings for a moment before sonicking Amy. “What is it?” The Doctor looked at the results and his stomach clenches.
“She's okay.” Relief floods into both their hearts. “She's...in a coma, though.”
“What...what do you mean?”
“He changed something...altered her genetic make-up...” I know what he did. How could he? Did he even ask her if that's what she wanted? Did he even think about it? And how could he have possibly done it? There's no technology in the world that could do...that.
“So, her body is recovering from it.”
“What. Did. He. Do?” Rory punctuates each word sharply.
The Doctor's shoulders slump, “I don't know, Rory. I don't know. Not exactly...” It's just a trick, an old magic trick, she's Amelia Pond; She's human. She will wake up and everything will be fine. The elder did not...he didn't change her...
“So we wait then?” Rory pulled up a chair and sat beside Amy. His hand going to cover her much colder one. The Doctor looked away and walked back to the console room. He gripped one of the levers and stared at his obscure reflection in the glass. The TARDIS soothed him, her hum low and melodious.
Is that what he saw? When he looked into her eyes and looked into mine? When he reached in, without warning, and held up our hearts for inspection? He saw her...with me...always. That's not how it works! You can't just wish for it, or long for it, and then it happens! I don't get older, my companions do and Amy had a life to live after her travels.
The TARDIS hummed a little louder and he sighed. “I know, I know...” The TARDIS was worried, but she was also hesitantly optimistic about the whole thing.
He couldn't even place his emotions if he wanted to.
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