Ficlet - What's in the Past
Title - What's in the Past
Rating - U
Summary - Another conversation between Amy and the Doctor. This time, they are talking about Donna.
Disclaimer - I don't own any of these characters, and I am making no money from this story. Damn fun though.
Amy marched into the console room and launched hotly into her interrogation.
“That Sarah Jane friend of yours said that you must have thing for terrifying ginger women,” she announced. “Why did she say that?”
The Doctor tugged awkwardly at his collar.
“Well, you can be a bit…intimidating,” he pointed out, his tone cautious. “And you’re definitely ginger.”
She regarded him in disbelief.
“I don’t mean that, idiot.” But then she punched him affectionately on the arm with a smile. “I mean, why was she implying that scary ginger women are a theme in your life?”
Her question wasn’t unexpected, but it winded him nonetheless. He busied himself with prodding at bits of the control panel, and hoped that Amy would think that he was doing something important, instead of just avoiding her gaze.
“Ah, because you’re my second scary, ginger…house guest in a row,” he answered honestly.
“Oh.”
Suddenly, Amy was also fiddling with the console, and he rather suspected that her motivations were more similar to his own than she would like him to believe. The words ‘wind’ and ‘sails’ immediately sprang to mind.
“If you don’t want to make it so that inflatable mattresses were never invented, please stop messing about with my TARDIS,” he instructed, with a small smile.
She obliged, giving the old girl a quick pat by way of apology.
“So, what happened to that last one then?” she asked, after a pause.
“Oh you know,” he replied lightly, “She did countless wonderful, amazing things and then finished it all off by saving the universe at an inconceivable personal cost.”
“Inconceivable?” repeated Amy.
“Her time with me. She forgot every moment of it.” He looked down at his shoes. “Well, I took it all away. Because the knowledge was making her burn up from the inside out.”
She looked at him, and he stared back emptily.
“You’re right,” she told him. “I can’t imagine that.”
He made a series of blustery, non-committal noises in response, and she dipped her eyes back to the TARDIS controls.
“What was she like?” she asked.
“She was wonderful,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “For the me I was then…well, she was the best friend I could have had. The very best. She’d make you laugh. She used to like slapping me.”
“Was she the person who spelt out, ‘The Doctor should spend less time doing his hair and more time fetching tea bags’ with the fridge magnets in the kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“Are those her copies of Heat in the fancy bathroom?”
“Yes.”
There was quiet once again as each of them reflected. On transience and vulnerability and loss.
“Well,” Amy said finally, with a hopeful smile, “Never say ‘never’, right?”
The Doctor’s head snapped up.
“This time we do,” he corrected coldly. “That me is dead and so is that her. It’s finished and it can never be again.”
Every inch of him was announcing that the topic was done with.
Amy nodded wordlessly. For a moment or two, she watched as he steadily refused to acknowledge her presence any longer. Then she withdrew from the room, knowing that she would get no more affection or laughter from her raggedy man this evening. She would wait for the morning, by which time, the conversation would be forgotten and he would be ready to be hers once again.
The Doctor listened for her departure before he let out the breath he had been holding.
He had told her the truth; they could never be Donna and her Doctor again. He was changed now and she was married, and he knew that, were they to be reunited, they would not share the same connection that they had before. It would be awkward and stilted and wrong.
Assuming she was even able to remember him, of course.
No, they could never be them again. It had been a beautiful, once in a lifetime period, but it was firmly in the past now, come to dust.
Though that didn’t stop him hoping that somewhere, somehow, there was a him and a her, running through space and time with tightly clasped hands.
Saving the universe, one argument at a time.
Rating - U
Summary - Another conversation between Amy and the Doctor. This time, they are talking about Donna.
Disclaimer - I don't own any of these characters, and I am making no money from this story. Damn fun though.
Amy marched into the console room and launched hotly into her interrogation.
“That Sarah Jane friend of yours said that you must have thing for terrifying ginger women,” she announced. “Why did she say that?”
The Doctor tugged awkwardly at his collar.
“Well, you can be a bit…intimidating,” he pointed out, his tone cautious. “And you’re definitely ginger.”
She regarded him in disbelief.
“I don’t mean that, idiot.” But then she punched him affectionately on the arm with a smile. “I mean, why was she implying that scary ginger women are a theme in your life?”
Her question wasn’t unexpected, but it winded him nonetheless. He busied himself with prodding at bits of the control panel, and hoped that Amy would think that he was doing something important, instead of just avoiding her gaze.
“Ah, because you’re my second scary, ginger…house guest in a row,” he answered honestly.
“Oh.”
Suddenly, Amy was also fiddling with the console, and he rather suspected that her motivations were more similar to his own than she would like him to believe. The words ‘wind’ and ‘sails’ immediately sprang to mind.
“If you don’t want to make it so that inflatable mattresses were never invented, please stop messing about with my TARDIS,” he instructed, with a small smile.
She obliged, giving the old girl a quick pat by way of apology.
“So, what happened to that last one then?” she asked, after a pause.
“Oh you know,” he replied lightly, “She did countless wonderful, amazing things and then finished it all off by saving the universe at an inconceivable personal cost.”
“Inconceivable?” repeated Amy.
“Her time with me. She forgot every moment of it.” He looked down at his shoes. “Well, I took it all away. Because the knowledge was making her burn up from the inside out.”
She looked at him, and he stared back emptily.
“You’re right,” she told him. “I can’t imagine that.”
He made a series of blustery, non-committal noises in response, and she dipped her eyes back to the TARDIS controls.
“What was she like?” she asked.
“She was wonderful,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “For the me I was then…well, she was the best friend I could have had. The very best. She’d make you laugh. She used to like slapping me.”
“Was she the person who spelt out, ‘The Doctor should spend less time doing his hair and more time fetching tea bags’ with the fridge magnets in the kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“Are those her copies of Heat in the fancy bathroom?”
“Yes.”
There was quiet once again as each of them reflected. On transience and vulnerability and loss.
“Well,” Amy said finally, with a hopeful smile, “Never say ‘never’, right?”
The Doctor’s head snapped up.
“This time we do,” he corrected coldly. “That me is dead and so is that her. It’s finished and it can never be again.”
Every inch of him was announcing that the topic was done with.
Amy nodded wordlessly. For a moment or two, she watched as he steadily refused to acknowledge her presence any longer. Then she withdrew from the room, knowing that she would get no more affection or laughter from her raggedy man this evening. She would wait for the morning, by which time, the conversation would be forgotten and he would be ready to be hers once again.
The Doctor listened for her departure before he let out the breath he had been holding.
He had told her the truth; they could never be Donna and her Doctor again. He was changed now and she was married, and he knew that, were they to be reunited, they would not share the same connection that they had before. It would be awkward and stilted and wrong.
Assuming she was even able to remember him, of course.
No, they could never be them again. It had been a beautiful, once in a lifetime period, but it was firmly in the past now, come to dust.
Though that didn’t stop him hoping that somewhere, somehow, there was a him and a her, running through space and time with tightly clasped hands.
Saving the universe, one argument at a time.