A.N: Here ya go, dudes and dudesses! On hindsight, I think that everything in Chapter 2 seemed to go a bit quickly. In my head, the Doctor's all strange and angsty from post-regen trauma but it sorta got lost on page (screen, whatever). Anywho, onwards!
Disclaimer: RTD doesn't own it. By default, I do. Eh? What was that? Steven who?? You must stop mumbling, I can't understand a word you're saying.



Amy felt rather than saw the Doctor slow down; she had been half-closing her eyes in a vague attempt to block out the 18th Century London around her. They were near the dead end of a little, deserted alley. Leaning against the dusty wall stood a faded-blue phone box. The Doctor took out a little Yale key, and then seemed to check himself. Frowning curiously, he snapped his fingers. The doors swung open, with a sort of welcoming creak. The Doctor gave Amy a charming, slightly cocky grin, and nodded towards it. Feeling faintly foolish, she took a few steps before turning around.
"Doctor, what-"
"Just look."
"But it's only an old police box!"
"Go on!"
So she did.

After about a minute, she walked back out again, slowly. The Doctor left a pause, evidently waiting for her to say something, so eventually she asked,
"Space ship, yeah? Just who the hell are you?"
"But..." The Doctor's face fell. "You're supposed to say "Oh my gawd it's bigger on the inside!"
"Oh, I'm sorry..." she shot back. "I'll remember that, thanks. Question: Next time I get sent back centuries into the past, would you like me to yell "Oh my gawd I've gone back in time!" and draw even more attention to myself?"
The Doctor opened and closed his mouth noiselessly several times.
"Well...um...OK," he conceded, finally grinning. "Touché, Amy. Touché."
Amy felt herself grin back, poking her tongue into one cheek – her own personal trademark way of dealing with vague embarrassment. She could feel the Doctor's eyes searching her face, his gaze locked onto hers intently, for far too long.
"Ahem. Shall we?" he nodded towards his strange...impossible...weird ship, and Amy nodded, relieved. Together, they walked inside, the Doctor immediately setting off about several hundred controls at once. The green column in the middle of what seemed to be the main console started moving up and down, in time with the haunting, grinding noise she was now sure she had heard once before.
"Um – Doctor?"
"Yep?"
"Where are we going?"
"London."
"But...we just were in London..." The Doctor looked quite smug at this.
"London. 2010." Amy simply gaped. "Not all cool-cucumber now, are ya?"
"It's a time machine?"
"It's a time machine."
"Oh..." and she sank back into one of the seemingly random arm chairs, trying to take it all in. Then, something else. "You're...you're taking me home?"
"Yeah."
Amy nodded, quickly, and focused on the green column, nearly missing his next sentence.
"The Weeping Angels, these, these creatures, they send you back into history and live off the energy of all the days you could have lived in the present."
"So...why me?"
"Coincidence, I think. I don't know much about them at all, really, 'cause they move so fast, and it's usually more like pot luck if I find the victim anyway. See, they have this...defence thingy, whenever anything living, anything at all, is looking at them - they turn to stone. As soon as you look away – WHAM! Move in the blink of an eye."
Amy bit her lip anxiously. She was in the middle of sorting out the muddle of new facts in her head when the Doctor gave a sudden groan of pain, collapsing on the metal-grille floor.
"Doctor? You all right?" No reply. "Doctor!" Nothing. Amy fell to her knees in a hurry, tilting the Doctor's chin to free airways, coaxing his limbs into an approximation of the recovery position, hurriedly dragging a great brown overcoat over his body and propping his head up with her rucksack, checking for a pulse.
That can't be right...she thought, shaking her head briskly. Try again, at the heart, it's clearest.
So she put two hands onto his suited chest, all at once aware of the warmness there, of the vulnerable look on his still face, of the...closeness...of her and him. Then, something so strange, so impossible, so weird sprung to the forefront of her mind so that all other thoughts where put on hold.
"Impossible," Amy whispered. A rhythm of four, two hearts beating only-just out of synch with each other. "It can't be..."
Sinking back into a random armchair, Amy shook her head experimentally, as if to clear water out of her ears, completely dazed.

After a few minutes of Amy simply sitting there, watching the Doctor intently, she became aware that the ship – box – thing, whatever it was, had stopped. The screen fixed to the console – she guessed it was some sort of camera or scanner – showed the duck pond of Victoria Park, exactly as she remembered it. Although she was vaguely worried by the strange, circles-within-circling-circles diagrams which would probably tell her the actual date if she could read Ancient North Pluto or something, but the over-riding need to do something won over. Throwing one last look at the Doctor's sleeping form, Amy opened the door quickly – and came face to face with a stone angel, its hands reaching towards her, its eyes wide and staring, its face pulled into a murderous grimace.

Process. Process. Process. PANIC!
No. Process. Process. Process. Right. Don't panic. Got that? Good. Remember what the Doctor was saying...they're incredibly fast. Move in the blink of an eye. So just. Keep. Looking at it. No, no, even more; he said "in the blink of an eye"...just focus. Don't blink. Whatever you do. Don't. Blink.


AN: Yeah, reeeelly need to work on the lovey. If they seem like idiotic teenagers crossed wit Rose & Tenth, it's because that's honestly all I have to go on =/