G-L
A/N: Here we are, with another set of letters from my self-imposed Alphabet challenge/prompt-thing!
One of these is connected to another letter of the first prompt and in a way-in a time-wimey sort of way, they are all connected. Doesn't mean they're happening in the right order, of course. (seriously, writing “G” nearly made me cry.) (oh and I'm using a different tense with this one, not sure if I like it or not.)
click here to read A - F
Grief - is a multi-faceted response to loss, particularly to the loss of someone or something to which a bond was formed.
The Doctor expects the TARDIS brought him here, she always was a stickler for promises. He was expecting Earth circa 1880, and instead, he got Earth-present day. The house looks much bigger and much older than he remembers. The hedges are overgrown and twisting their way over one another, fighting for sunlight. One of the windows has been smashed and the vines that were growing along the side of the house have nearly taken over.
The blue front door gives way as he pushes it. As if the house has been expecting him to show up any day now. The Doctor runs his hand along the banister, collecting dust on his fingers, as he makes his way up the stairs.
“Count them. The rooms, count them.”
He stares for a long time at the radiator. The bloody radiator that she had handcuffed him to while pretending to be a police woman. He smiles at the memory and continues on, the house, her home, reminds him too much of the TARDIS. Much bigger on the inside. He almost yells, just to see if there's an echo, but the silence is so somber that the Doctor looses his voice. He's not used to this.
The paint is chipping away on the walls.
“Look where you never want to look...”
Amy's bedroom is bare. He doesn't know why, but he was almost expecting her bed to be there, with the lights, and the pictures, and the various childhood drawings. The emptiness is crawling inside him and he peers out the window to see his TARDIS in the garden. Seeing his police box there helps chase away the emptiness, makes him remember the good times.
“About WHO I want...”
The Doctor sits on the dusty, ill kept floor, and picks up the envelope waiting for him. It's yellowed with age, yet untouched since the day she left it for him.
“Can you promise me that?”
“'course Amy, of course...”
The Doctor carefully opens the letter. His hearts beating unusually fast, as he begins to read.
Doctor,
This is so strange...writing a letter that you won't see until our adventures are over. At this very moment, you are trying to cook something! Can you believe it? You. Cooking. The Raggedy Doctor who eats fish custard. This time was better than never to write you this, I guess. We're not running from aliens or covered in sick or saving a planet a thousand years in the future.
Doctor...I just wanted to say...you are a mad, impossible, alien-and I will never forget you. Oi! And one more thing! Don't travel alone for too long, yeah? You need someone to keep you on your toes.
Love,
Amy ( p.s. Gotcha)
The Doctor folds the letter and places it in his jacket. He remains in her old bedroom for what may have been hours. His hearts ache, remembering her, wishing she was back, but knowing that his fairytale was over. He closes his eyes, feeling her arms around his neck, seeing her ginger hair against a snowy landscape, her nails-purple today, the freckles on her skin, and that smile. That contagious smile. The Doctor stands, brushing the dust off his pants, and wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. The Doctor sniffles and straightens his bowtie;
This would be the last time he walked out of Amelia Ponds' house.
Horometry - Time measurement
Amy has gotten used to disgusting things when it comes to traveling with the Doctor. She's been covered in sick, she's seen him eat grass, but this...
“You insulted their queen, Amy!” He said, little droplets of green slime falling off his jacket as he runs. Globs of it splatter onto the black rock of this planet. He grabs her hand, and its covered in matching slime, and Amy squeezes tight in hopes that they won't slip and get separated.
The mob of royal guards is chasing them, which is why they need to get to the TARDIS and fast.
“I didn't mean to! I just sneezed!”
“I know, I know.” The Doctor tightens his grip around her fingers and she wants nothing more than to wipe her hands and get a better grasp. “But on this planet, sneezing is the highest insult--”
“Is that why she sneezed on us?”
“Yes.” He grins a little and there's a big yellow-green drop hanging off his fringe. Amy wants to wipe it away, she wants to jump into a big bathtub or pool-maybe the Library will have the pool today.
They slide into the marketplace and its filled with aliens but, the coating green slime on their clothes and hair along with the yelling guards on their tail-isn't helping when trying to blend in.
“Come on.” Amy pulls the Doctor and he lets out a whoop of excitement because the TARDIS is so undeniably close.
The Doctor pushes the TARDIS door open and Amy turns, just in time, to catch a glimpse of their pursuers. Who knew aliens that looked an awful lot like slugs could move so quickly! She shuts the door and the TARDIS is already moving, getting them both the hell out of there.
And once they are safe, Amy starts to laugh. She falls onto her knees on the console floor, holding onto her stomach, laughing until tears pool in her eyelids. The Doctor is laughing too, the slime falling onto the various buttons and doo-dads and pulley-looking-things. Amy tries to get up but only slips on the floor and the Doctor stumbles as he grabs her arms and helps pull her up. Amy clutches his jacket to steady herself, it smells, and it's truly, truly foul. Yet, here she is covered in alien snot and she's never been happier.
Amy lifts her head from her pillow, never really knowing the time when she wakes up or when she goes to sleep. Her body is getting used to it, sort of. She sleeps when she can, when there's no distress signal, no impending doom on some planet or when the Doctor looks at her and says; “Pond?” then he'll say something about a repair needing to be done, or a thing he needs to find and she still doesn't know how he can tell. Well, there was that one time she fell asleep in the jumper seat.
She doesn't like to sleep, because her dreams are always frustrating and make her wake up confused and sad. She hates that. Amy can't stand the thought that she's missing something when she has absolutely everything-all of time and space at her fingertips!
“Doctor?” She finds him in the kitchen.
“Morning Amy!”
“Is it morning?” Amy takes a seat at the small table, resting her elbows on the table.
“Well, you've just woken up haven't you? I'd say that's morning.”
“Yeah but, is it?”
“Is it what?” He turns, his face confused, and Amy realizes that he's sonic-ing the teapot. She also decides that it doesn't matter if it's morning or afternoon; there are millions of stars out there and millions of planets and they're all experiencing their own mornings, afternoons, and nights. She'd go mad if she tried to measure it all.
“What are you doing to the kettle?”
“Ah, well...” The Doctor looks at the kettle again, hundreds of little thoughts running through that massive head of his. “I was trying to change the whistle.”
“Can you make it sound Scottish?”
“It's a kettle, Amy.”
“Yeah? And that's a sonic.” She points to the device in his hand, “I thought it could do anything.”
In the end, their kettle now makes a purring noise when the water boils.
Ignicolist - Fire-worshiper
(this one is really long...)
He tells her that there's a planet where they've found a way to use the lava from surrounding volcanoes as an energy force. She doesn't believe him until he takes her. The sky is dark, and the Doctor explains that it's because of the amount of soot in the air, but she isn't listening. She's absolutely entranced by the fountain in the town square, it's a statue of a woman dancing with a man and the lava is suspended, twirling around the couple. It's like nothing she's ever seen.
She didn't even think lava could do that. The Doctor notices her interest and now he's talking about gravity and physics and the advanced technology of this world yet the simplicity in which they live.
It takes Amy a half-second to notice that the Doctor is the only one talking.
Amy turns and the Doctor notices it too, the whole cluster of aliens with their pale, translucent skin and sooty, black hair, are staring at Amy. She clears her throat, and the Doctor greets everyone with a cheery (maybe too cheery), “Hello!”
There's a mummer of responses and wary glances. “She is a gift from the mountain!” The mummers turn into sounds of approval. Amy is then swarmed as they crowd around her, giving her fruit or what looks like fruit, and taking necklaces off and putting them around her neck. Amy is trying to talk and she feels the Doctor's hand take her wrist. She casts him a look, but he's not looking, he's talking with one of the surrounding aliens about stars or funny hats-she can't catch any of it with everyone else talking at once.“Wonderful!”
“Gorgeous!”
“Lovely!”
“Her hair! Look at her hair!”
Amy smiles, laughs a little bit, not used to all this attention and praise.
The Doctor's voice is close to her ear, “I think...they like you.” And she would be lying if she said it didn't cause a small shiver up her spine.
“Beautiful!”
“Enchanting!”
“You must come with us, you simply must! We must give thanks!” They're pushed along with the crowd and Amy loops her arm with the Doctor, she's aware of someone touching her hair and someone is tossing these vibrant red petals into the air. The petals don't float to the ground, rather they suddenly catch fire and disappear.
He grins, shame that he wasn't a ginger, but then again...they might try to wed himself and Amy. Oddly enough, he isn't totally against that idea. The Doctor shakes his head chasing away his thoughts making Amy look at him.
“What?”
“Nothing, you just had this funny expression on your face.”
“Oh.” He searches for something more to say and, “Those flowers are called Magma-blossoms because they grow right at the base of the volcano.”
Amy knows by the way he's talking that he's avoiding something and at the moment she doesn't have time to ask. The Doctor and Amy are brought up into the city's temple and the high priestess is staring at Amy with a sense of wonder and awe in her eyes...and something else, something that the Doctor doesn't like. No, he doesn't like that look at all.
“Quiet!” Her voice rings out through the halls of sculpted black marble and even the flames seem to shrink. The crowd that had circled around Amy and the Doctor suddenly back away.
“Welcome child...” Her dark eyes flicker. “And...is this your lover?”
The Doctor makes a sound like he just choked on his words.
“I'm the Doctor.” He says once he recovers.
“Amy Pond.”
“Curious, to have the name that resembles water...when you are so much flame and fire.” The high priestess has the same ghostly pale skin, her eyes jet black matching her hair that is tied up and away from her almost-feline looking face. Her robes are a deep crimson and Amy can faintly see markings on the palms of her hands.
Amy feels like the priestess is judging her, weighing her, and analyzing her with her eyes. “Those clothes won't do for our celebration, that is, if you are going to participate?”
“Oh, I don't see why not.” The Doctor beams, clasping his hands behind his back.
The priestess smiles, “Excellent.”
While Amy is getting dressed for the celebration, which the Doctor can only assume has been created due to her arrival, he is doing what he does best. Staying out of trouble...badly. He couldn't shake the feeling that the priestess (who's name was Pele) had some other motive. He would not forget the look in her eyes when she saw Amy, the look hidden behind her admiration and curiosity. The Doctor admired the little statue crafted from volcanic rock, and by admired-that simply means he held his sonic to it and checked the readings.
“Doctor?” He spun on the spot to see one of the other priestess's from the temple. Her robes were light blue, he noted, and she wore a heavy looking red-orange necklace.
“Yes? Hello! Where is my friend? Is she finished getting all dolled up for this celebration?”
The young priestess seemed to pale at the mention of the word.
“She's ready, but you...” Her dark eyes lowered to the temple floor, “Should hurry.”
“Where is she?” The Doctor demands, her suspicious behavior setting alarms off in his head. The priestess shook her head, shifted on her feet, and then pointed behind the Doctor. He whipped around to see a large open window that gave a clear view of one of the volcanoes. “Amy...”
“Oi!” Amy struggled against her binds, making a mental note that if she gets out of this alive she is going to have a rule-no joining celebrations without knowing what that means. The whole community has gathered to the mouth of the volcano and the high priestess is giving her opening speech.
“The sky has brought her to us! A woman with fire for hair and she has agreed to give her life for the prosperity of our city!”
“I never said that!” Amy yells but nobody is listening. Ugh. Amy leans her head back on the stone table and looks at the black sky. Visit a gorgeous planet where everyone loves her hair to the point of obsession and they want to sacrifice her. “Worst celebration ever.”
“Really?” Her heart jumps at the voice, “I think they had a rather good turn out.” The Doctor's head appears above her own and his lips are pulled back into a smile.
Her right wrist is suddenly free from the cuff and then her left, and Amy throws her arms around him for a half-second. He hugs her back, his two hearts beating a steady staccato against her ribs.
“What are you doing?!” Pele shrieks, pointing a long finger at the Doctor. The glowing embers from the volcano making her eyes glow with fury. She is without her robes and her pale body is decorated in markings, drawn on symbols that make Amy dizzy to look at.
Amy's exposed skin is hot and she can't imagine how the Doctor must feel. The lava beneath them hisses and bubbles. Maybe he doesn't let things like heat or cold get to him, it must be an alien thing.
“I can't let you kill Amy.”
Pele scoffs, “What is her life to you?”
“Hey!” Once again, no one is listening. Amy crosses her arms, giving Pele her best icy glare.
“Don't you think it would be better to keep her alive? If her hair is such a sign of good luck, why destroy it?”
The crowd is silent, looking from their high priestess to the Doctor, as if they are expecting a fight to break out.
“She offered her life.”
“You didn't exactly give her a choice!” Amy swallows at the Doctor's tone and she looks at him, his profile in the eerie volcano light. “Did you?”
“We asked if she wished to participate---”
“In a celebration! A party! Not a sacrifice!” Pele is fighting a loosing battle. The crowd is shifting, moving out of the way, parting, as a woman in light blue robes steps through. The Doctor recognizes her as the same young woman who told him to come here.
“Pele.” Her voice is much stronger than before, “That is enough.”
Pele looks back and forth from the Doctor and Amy to the mystery woman. She opens her mouth to speak but words fail her. The woman in light blue steps forward with Pele's crimson robes in her hands. “The Doctor is right. Amy Pond is not giving her life to the volcano and destroying such magnificent beauty would surely give us a thousand years of burning rain. I can not allow that.”
Pele takes her robes and gives a small huff, something Amy would have heard from a child throwing a tantrum, not from an adult. “Apologizes...mother.”
Pele's mother looks to the Doctor and Amy; “Forgive us. This is not how I wish us to be remembered.”
“Who are you?” Amy can't help but ask, but the Doctor has already figured it out in his head.
“Bridget...Pele's mother and the Queen.”
Amy's eyebrows jump in surprise and Bridget smiles at her strangeness. “Everyone!” She turns to the crowd that has been talking amongst themselves for some time now. “Let us collect Magma-blossoms and wish them a proper farewell!”
On their walk down the volcano path, the Doctor takes off his jacket and puts it around Amy's shoulders. She doesn't say anything because her head feels light, she's hot and cold at once, her throat feels dry, and she just really, really wants to go to sleep. “Easy there, Pond.” She can hear him saying. “The high altitude plus the gases that the volcano emits...ah, easy, watch your step.” He chuckles a little, keeping her steady, “it's done quite a toll on your body.”
“I'm thirsty.”
“Yes, yes, don't worry, we're almost at the base.”
Amy licks her dry lips and leans into the Doctor who has a firm grip on her arm. It's not until they're back in the temple with the bright lights and Amy drank some golden colored liquid that both quenched her thirst and cooled her body off that the Doctor really looks at her.
'She's stunning...' And everything the aliens had said earlier today in the town square comes back to him. The gown they've given her is a deep green, it hangs loose on her shoulders, and it flows with her movements. She's tied her hair up and the Doctor can only image it's because people kept touching it. Now, more than ever, he wants to touch her hair too. 'She's lovely, but she's not...you can't...Rory, remember Rory, Rory.'
“Here.” Bridget gives Amy a red gem that is roughly cut but still sparkling in the orange light. She closes Amy's hand around the gem and casts a glance to the Doctor, along with a smile, “What is it?” Bridget looks back to Amy.
“To help remember us...”
“What do you mean? I don't think I could forget this place...I mean, you did try to sacrifice me to your--”
“Then it is to give you strength in journeys to come.” Then Bridget has left her and Amy walks back to the Doctor, more confused that she was.
“I'm ready to go home.”
The Doctor looks at her, alarmed, “W-well...okay.”
Amy sighs, “Back to the TARDIS.”
“Oh.” He looks incredibly flustered, “Right.” Then he grins, “You don't want to stay for the after party?”
She lightly shoves his shoulder, “Funny.”
They take home a bouquet of Magma-blossoms, “Do these need water?” She asks as she takes her hair down with her free hand.
The Doctor bounds towards her and holds the sonic screwdriver to the flowers. They make a crackling noise and for a moment, Amy fears that they'll ignite in her hands. “No. They need soil.”
She meets his eyes as he takes the bouquet from her hand. “Where are you going to put them?”
“I'm sure the TARDIS will find someplace.”
Amy runs her fingers through her hair as the Doctor heads off to find a vase. Her hair and skin smell like fire, a few ashes fall from her hair and onto the console floor. He returns and freezes on the spot, “Pond, don't move.”
“What? What is it?”
His hand is in her hair and Amy does her best not to move, she sees a flicker of red out of the corner of her eye. The Doctor combs his fingers through her hair and Amy involuntarily closes her eyes. “Petals in your hair.” She had her hair touched all day, picked up, examined, twirled and braided. “...accident, no doubt.” But, the Doctor was gentle as he picked the petals out of her hair and brushed away the ash. “And I don't even know if they would ignite in the TARDIS.” His hands are on her shoulders for a moment and her eyes open to see his face studying her.
“All set.” He pats her shoulders and then spins back to the TARDIS. Amy isn't sure what's happened, isn't sure if it was the adrenaline, or the red beauty of the planet, but something...yes...something is defiantly different. Forgive the saying, but the spark between herself and the Doctor has finally sprung to life.
Join - to be or become connected, linked, or united.
Amy hasn't forgotten the symbol she saw on that locked door. She's just been waiting for the right moment to drag the Doctor and show him. The TARDIS is patient but, Amy knows she's up to something when she won't land. “I don't get it! What's wrong?” The Doctor leans his hands on the console. The TARDIS is moving, but at the same time, she isn't. He's tried coaxing her, speaking to her, and she must have picked up stubbornness from one of his companions.
Amy realizes that this is her chance, “Doctor?”
“It's not...no, no, I stabilized those last night.”
“Doctor?”
“What is it, Amy?”
“I've found something.”
His eyes moved from the console for the first time since she spoke to him.
“It's a door.”
“It's not a green door, is it?”
Amy raises an eyebrow, “There something bad about a green door?”
“No-I mean yes, don't go in that door.”
Looks like the TARDIS had more secrets than she thought.
“It's a door with a perception filter.”
The Doctor knows what door she's talking about. It's a room he hasn't stepped foot in since Rory's death. He feel the TARDIS give him a nudge, almost like a gentle push to his shoulder. Both Amy and his ship want him to go in there...well, the TARDIS probably showed Amy the room...and now his ship wasn't going anywhere until he went back in there. “Alright, show me.”
“It's locked.”
“It won't be for me.” The Doctor says walking beside Amy and the TARDIS gives a hum of approval.
The door swings open and they're greeted with the sound of ticking clocks. The room isn't very large, there are bookcases and shelves pressed against the walls, filled with both books and various clutter. The clocks are ticking out of synch but it's nice, almost tranquil. There's a fireplace at the far wall and its making the room cozy and comfortable.
“That's Liz 10's mask...” Amy sees the white, perfectly sculpted mask resting on a shelf. The Doctor follows her into the room.
“What is this room?” She turns to the Doctor.
“Things...” He looks at the books, all his favorites, or some he's just collected over time. So, so much time. “Well, let's go see if the TARDIS is ready...”
“What's wrong with this room?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Don't you see, Amy? He wants to tell her, I move forward that's what I do. This is a room filled with memories, filled with the past, and I can't dwell on the past or else I'd end up flying my TARDIS into a supernova.
“Hey.”
She hugs him, tight, and the Doctor hugs her back. He wonders when she learned how to read him, or if it's just Amy being Amy and reaching out when he's lost in his thoughts, reminding him that he isn't alone. When she moves, he should push her away, because he knows what's coming next. Her hand rests at the nape of his neck and he's actually leaning towards her.
Amy kisses him and it's like that time she kissed him in her bedroom or the time he kissed her on that frozen tundra of a planet but, but, it isn't. No, it isn't like that at all. There's no protest and this isn't some silly, impulsive, stolen kiss. Amy tilts her head back and feels his tongue run along her lower lip. A fleeting thought has the time to wonder if the TARDIS had this planned.
Amy's hip presses against one of the book shelves and the Doctor's hands are skirting up her shirt. His cool fingers come in contact with her skin and Amy's body shudders in response. The Doctor eases away from her mouth and rests his forehead on hers.
“This is...was...my study. A collection of things, books, objects, stuff...” He's letting his mouth talk ahead of his brain. “Time Lords don't need as much sleep, so I used to busy myself in here,” His hand finds hers and he takes her along. He tells her about some his favorite books (“I met Shakespeare, oh and then there was Agatha Christie...”), there's a staff resting in the corner of the room-he tells her it's a Time Lord staff, there's the book of Weeping Angels, and there's a colorful scarf that he once used to wear;
“Better than bowties.”
“Bowties are cool.”
Amy's never felt more a part of his world.
The clocks start ticking again.
Kaleidoscope - a complex pattern of constantly changing color and shapes.
The Doctor has been spending time in his study again, Amy only knows this because the door is now unlocked and the TARDIS hasn't been acting up at all. Amy is sitting beneath the console on the swing and the Doctor is moving about above her. “Brilliant! Wait till you see. Gorgeous, rivals the Northern Lights...”
He's right, too. The sky he shows her changes color, like a thin rainbow blanket has been placed over the ivory sky. Amy leans into his chest and feels his heartbeats on her shoulder blades. “Will it always be like this?”
“No.” His tone holds a small sadness, “It'll fade...give it another ten years or so.”
“There he is!”
Not even a second later, the Doctor and Amy have been surrounded by centaurs with their arrows raised.
“I don't believe we've met. I'm the Doctor.”
“We know who you are!” One of them sneers, “Come to gloat, have you?”
“Er...gloat about what, exactly!”
One gives a cruel laugh, “Do not play stupid!”
“You destroyed our weapon! The weapon that would win the war!”
“Oh. Well, that sounds like something I would do, yes.”
“Doctor?” Amy looks at him briefly before looking back at the furious centaurs. “We've only just gotten here.”
“Yes, but at some point in our future we'll be here...well...our past, no that's wrong, their past-our future.”
“Right, right.” Amy says quickly, “I get it.”
“You will come with us!”
“You and your friend must have consequences for your meddling!”
“No! Let us kill them now!”
The centaurs began to squabble with one another, some saying they must take Amy and the Doctor to the fort and speak with the general, some want a public execution, and others want to destroy them now. The Doctor taps Amy's arm and they slowly back up, Amy is the first to get into the TARDIS, and the Doctor is close behind.
“Amy! Pull the engine release lever!” He yells to her as he sonics the door and centaurs have noticed their disappearance. There are loud noises outside and the Doctor mutters that they should stop shooting his ship.
Amy thanks her lucky stars that she remembered which lever it was. The Doctor soon joins her and the TARDIS begins to dematerialize. Amy looks out the big circular window to catch the fading glimpse of the brilliant, colorful sky.
“So, we're going to go back there, yeah?”
“At some point.”
The arrows that hit the TARDIS fall onto the ground as if they didn't touch anything at all. The Doctor smiles and pats the console, feeling a wave of appreciation and affection roll through him. He looks at Amy, who is sitting on the stairs, “Come on, Pond.”
She looks at him.
“You can't very well pilot the TARDIS sitting down.” Amy's eyes light up and the TARDIS hums with amusement and adoration. The Doctor knew when his TARDIS liked or disliked companions and the TARDIS adored Amy Pond.
“Okay, now,” He points at a wheel, “Give that a spin.” Amy feels a rush of nervous excitement flow through her veins. The Doctor flips a switch, “Good.” And Amy smiles, the closest she's ever been to piloting the TARDIS was when she was trapped inside her. The most she knew how to use was the screen and the zig-zag plotter. Now that she thinks about it, the sky was beautiful, but the machine before her is even prettier.
Letter - a written message addressed to a person
The Doctor doesn't leave her notes. When she falls asleep in the Library, he leaves her a message skirting around the edge of her mind. She likes this more, it reminds her that no matter how human he seems, he's still an alien. A wonderful, mad alien.
The message isn't writing but more of his voice and images. He shows her his study and mentions that he's looking for a green-tube looking thing and if she's seen it, then bring it to him, because he thinks that's the missing part for the chameleon circuit but, he isn't sure and oops! He's rambling now. He tells her that she should eat something because he wants to show her the plant of Baar and it might end up being a long trip, and when she's ready she can find him in his study.
Amy starts writing him letters because she's got messages too and she doesn't have the ability to talk inside his head or whatever it is that he does. Sometimes, they're silly...
Doctor,
Whatever you were fiddling with last night made Opera music play out of the walls of my room.
Other times, they're meaningful and most of these letters just end up stuffed somewhere in her room and never get to the Doctor. Amy never really could write down or express her feelings in a “proper” way. She's better at showing and so far, the Doctor hasn't given her a chance to let her show him how she feels.
So, Amy keeps to the silly, lighthearted letters because they're easier to write and easier to leave for the Doctor to find. She leaves them folded in books, once she stuck one in a box of fish fingers and it said; Figures the TARDIS would keep these stocked for you.
It's fun, it's juvenile, and the TARDIS helps once in a while, moving her letters so that the Doctor does find them. Amy then finds a blank book on the floor of her room and she keeps it as a diary, for the letters she can't give the Doctor, for all the secret thoughts and the thoughts that don't make sense. When she kissed the Doctor back in his study, which felt like so long ago, but also felt like it happened just yesterday (time-seriously, she's given up on measuring it.) There was this feeling in the back of her mind and writing it down didn't help make any sense of it.
I dream of him, he's got no face but, I know him. I know his voice too but when I wake up, I can't remember. When I kissed the Doctor, I could have sworn I heard his voice, kind of like when I hear the TARDIS. It's not words, but more of a feeling of words. I think I felt him say 'okay' and then it was gone. I felt a smile too, is that weird? I think that's weird. Bizarre, even. I hope I'm not losing my mind...
Amy keeps this book under her pillow. She doesn't write in it every day or every night, just when she has inspiration to do so. She finds a crumpled note on her nightstand and she can tell by the paper and the writing that's peeping out over the corners that it isn't hers. Amy smooths it out and it's a bunch of numbers, letters, and equations that make no sense. Amy folds the note because, call it time traveler intuition, but she feels like it's important. She places it on her nightstand next to the magma-blossoms and red gem Bridget gave her.
The next morning, Amy moves the blossoms and the gem into his study. The blossoms bloom on the fireplace mantel and the gem sits on the same shelf with Liz 10's mask. She likes knowing that their adventures have mementos, physical objects that won't fade over time, so she won't ever forget.
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a/n: Gaaah. Letter “L” was the bane of my existence! I didn't want to do something like love, loss, or loneliness. So many L words. D: So-I hope that one worked out. But, I sort of love this one-collection...thing.