Fic: All I Ask Is This (1/1)
Title: All I Ask Is This
Pairings: Amy/Eleven, Amy/Rory
Warnings: Spoilers for 6x11 "The God Complex"
Summary: Altered Scene - 6x11 - Before he says goodbye, Amy needs to truly know what she's losing.Note: It's been ages since I wrote Eleven/Amy. Blasted Moffat had to go and make Rory a huge deal and all. I just couldn't help but watch this moment on the screen and be so incredibly moved by it. I hate to change something so beautifully done already, but I wanted to play this thought out. What if Amy asked him the one question he never wanted to answer?
"Even so, it can't happen like this," Amy's arms are closed tight across her chest. Her legs are wobbly, so she's glad of the sleek red sports car to lean against. She's not ready. "After everything we've been through, Doctor. Everything. You can't just drop me off at my house and say goodbye like we shared a cab."
He steps toward her once more, slowly, one foot in front of the other. Her eyes search his for some sign that he understands, that she's convinced him that this cannot be the end. She tries to soak up all of him, her eyes trailing down his sad, drawn face to a jaunty bowtie, familiar tweed sleeves, and blue jeans covering long, lanky legs.
They've been through so much. It's been ages since she thought of him as her raggedy Doctor, but here he is again in all his glory and sadness. Suddenly, she too is little Amelia Pond once more, sat on her suitcase in the back garden, hanging on the words of a mad man with a box. Her mad man.
"And what's the alternative?" He asks, bringing Amy out of her reverie. "Me standing over your grave, over your broken body. Over Rory's body."
"Tell me," she requests. She knows she needn't say more. He understands. She's not so daft as to think that there haven't been others - probably many others he's loved and lost. He's a Time Lord, after all. Essentially immortal. She still wants to know.
"What's the point?" He says, really, rather than asks. She says nothing. "How could I even begin?"
"You owe me at least this."
"But Rory?"
"Tell me," she repeats, a tear rolling down her left cheek.
"Little Amelia Pond," He begins, barely able to make eye contact. There's a catch in his throat. "The brilliant, lonely Scottish girl who waited." He reaches up to catch the teardrop with his thumb. "Best worst decision I've ever made."
She closes her eyes and presses her face against the palm of his hand. His thumb traces a tiny circle against the apple of her cheek.
"Different from all the others, the exquisite Amy Pond. More than simple love, stronger than anything my two old hearts have ever felt. There have been others. Far too many for their own good or mine. But you, Amy - I had to unravel time and space for you. We didn't just see things. We changed things. Together."
Her tears are flowing fast and free now; her hands grasp at the lapels of his jacket.
"You're everything. The center of the universe itself," he grasps her face between his hand and forces himself to meet her gaze. The tears cloud her vision, but she can see him. "I will always, always love you, Amy. No matter where I go. No matter who I meet. No one will ever be the same."
He presses his forehead to hers, his lips now just inches from hers. Her long eyelashes brush against his own as they begin to breath synchronously. His lips brush ever so gently against hers and she thinks of all that can never be in their lives. She remembers all the days she spent pining after a handsome raggedy Doctor who took an eternity to return to her. She allows herself this kiss, this moment, these feelings, because they can never be. She has to feel them, has to know them in their entirety to really know how to let go of him. She has to find the edges to unhook them from her soul.
He pulls back, resting his forehead against hers again. "Love. Love. Love," he repeats under his breath like a prayer. "That's why you have to stay here, Amy Williams. Safe."
He steps back once again. The inches between them feel like miles to Amy Pond. She reaches out and pulls him into a tight embrace, running her hand down the back of his head, holding on for dear life.
"Look after him," the Doctor replies, when they finally separate.
"Look after you."
This is the end, for real. He thinks he is letting her go. But he is wrong.
It is she, who is letting go of herself. Her wait is finally over.