Mad, Impossible Amy Pond

(Although, if you've clicked this story, chances are, you've seen it already)

The Doctor leaned over, eyes wide, looking at the girl sprawled on the bed in a seductive pose.

"Amy Pond... Mad, impossible Amy Pond. I don't know why – I have no idea – but quite possibly, the single most important thing in the history of the universe is that I get you sorted out right now."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," she said with a playful tilt of her head, her Scottish accent tinting her words.

"Come on!" the bow-tied man said, pulling her up from her bed and towards his blue box.

Amy tried to pull him into an embrace. "Doctor!" But the Time Lord opened the doors and pushed her inside. He looked at the electric clock on Amy's nightstand. The numbers flipped over to 12:00, signaling midnight. The Doctor then entered the TARDIS, himself.

Amy was leaning on the controls flirtatiously as he entered. She raised her eyebrows and gave a little smirk.

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, trying to decide what to do with this fiery ball of female hormones. He paced.

Honey eyes watched him like a hungry beast. She pushed herself off of the consol and tried to put her arms around the Doctor again, bringing her face closer to his; her lips reaching towards the Doctor's. "So where do you want to do this? The bedroom? Here in the control room? Maybe even the library swimming pool?" Her thumb played underneath one of his braces.

The Doctor immediately broke out of her grasp and ran to the other side of the TARDIS consol, using it at as a barrier. "How about we just take a breather, hmm? Just… sit right down and calm yourself."

Amy started walking counterclockwise around the controls, causing the Doctor to do the same. The space between them remained equal. "You keep saying no, Doctor, but whisking away a pretty girl like me to travel the universe alone with you – I don't think you mean it."

The Doctor put his hands up, trying to calm her. "Now, Amy. It wasn't like that, and you know it."

"Maybe I don't?" she broke into a run. The Doctor did too. Amy changed directions and ran the other way. The Doctor mirrored her actions, circling the controls.

"No. You do. Amy Pond, I've told you, if wouldn't work. You're human. I'm not. Besides, you even don't know if there are any biological incompatibilities."

"Well, only one way to find out!" She changed direction again, the suddenness almost causing the Doctor to trip over his own feet, but he managed to escape.

"Amy, give it up. No means no!"

She pouted, but the fire in her eyes told the Doctor that she wouldn't give up that easily. She tried one direction, then the other. The Time Lord, quick on his feet, kept opposite of her the entire time.

He tried one more attempt to dissuade her. "Amy, I've had a granddaughter. A grandchild! Nothing's more unsexy than that!"

Amy made a sudden motion to the left, only to change to the right in the last second. The Doctor, still heading left as Amy ran right towards him, immediately jumped off the raised platform onto floor below before making a run to one of the sets of stairs. The redhead followed, as he had expected.

He ran down the hallway, Amy hot in pursuit. While he sprinted, the Doctor fumbled around in his inside coat pocket for his sonic screwdriver, mentally cursing that he had made them bigger on the inside. Finally reaching his cherished screwdriver, he pulled it out, readying in his hand.

The Doctor turned left down a different hallway and entered one of the rooms through a circular doorway, the round door sliding open for him just before he reached it. He hid behind the doorframe, waiting for Amy.

The Scottish girl ran into the room at full force, getting about midway in before slowing down. The Doctor, already at the door, slipped out. He aimed the screwdriver at the doorway, and the door slid down again, trapping Amy inside.

Amy pounded on the door. "Doctor? DOCTOR! LET ME OUT!" she screamed.

The Doctor pocketed his screwdriver. "Now just calm down - it'll open again in about fifteen minutes; just enough for you to regain control of yourself and think about what you just tried to do."


"Fifteen minutes. It's only for fifteen minutes –"


"Amy, I'm doing this for your own goo-"


"If you'd gone through with this, I'm sure we'd both agree, looking back, that would have been a mistake. Just one big, giant, horrendous mista-"


"Fine, then! Do you want me to make it twenty?"

There was a momentary pause on the other side of the door.

"I was right – you really are worse than my aunt!"

"I'll see you in fifteen minutes, Amy," he said, wiping his brow.

Amy tentatively entered the control room. The Doctor was sitting on the edge of the main control platform, his legs dangling off the side.

"Oy! Amy Pond!" he greeted her.

Amy responded with an embarrassed wiggle of her fingers.

He waved her over with large, awkward arm gestures. She didn't want to confront him – not yet – but she knew that she'd have to eventually, and he didn't seem angry. Now was probably her best chance. She went down the stairs, visibly uncomfortable.

The Doctor looked up at her. "Well? What are you waiting for? Sit, sit." He extended a hand to help her down.

Amy carefully took it and slowly sat, all the while, trying to read the Doctor's face. His mood seemed pleasant enough, but she couldn't really tell anything else for certain. Nothing indicated anything about what thoughts must be circling in that large, Gallifreyan brain of his.

He exhaled, obviously mentally preparing himself.

"Amy Pond, we need to have a chat… You tried to mount me."

Amy winced – always count on the Doctor to bluntly address the elephant in the room.

"I'm sorry…"

The Doctor put his hands on the ground behind him and leaned back, smiling. "Oh, you don't need to tell me that – I already know. I mean, look at you – shoulders hunched, closed body language, hurt look on your face, no eye contact, despite the fact that I'm directly addressing you – looks like a pretty dead giveaway to me that you feel bad about it… That, and, well, I know you, Amy."

She cracked a smile, but it faded quickly. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I just… I don't know what came over me, Doctor. I was… It was so frightening on the Byzantium. I couldn't see, and the Angels were everywhere, and one of them was in my mind, and the crack in my wall was there, and everyone started disappearing, and I-I was so scared… And then there's you - you saved me, you saved River, you saved everything, and I just… I… I… I don't even know what I'm saying anymore…" Amy's eyes shone with tears.

The Doctor pulled her into an embrace. Amy sobbed silently into the shoulder of his tweed jacket, a whirlwind of emotions.

"Just let it all out," he told her, stroking the back of her head.

Amy cried. All the emotions, the turmoil. From the five-minutes-turned-twelve-years; from the sudden reemergence of the Doctor on the night before her wedding; from the agony of the Star Whale; from the threat of the Daleks; from the army of Weeping Angels; and, most of all, from her own pig-headed stupidity. Here was the Doctor, this impossibly old alien who was so much farther above her in terms of intelligence and in knowledge of the universe. Who could seemingly do anything. Who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but refused to let that slow him down. Who had a reputation throughout time and space as a force to be reckoned with. Whom she had just tried to have sex with.

And here he was, letting her cry on his shoulder.

Amy felt terrible about herself.

As if the Doctor could read her mind, he tightened his hold. "It's okay. It's all okay."

They stayed that way, in silence, for several minutes until Amy could cry no more.

Finally, Amy broke the hug. She leaned away from him and wiped her running nose on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Sorry 'bout that… You'll probably need to get it dry cleaned."

"What?" the Doctor followed Amy's gaze to the wet, dark spot on his jacket. "Oh. That. Nothing to worry about – the TARDIS will take care of it once I bring it to the washroom." He stood up, slid the jacket off, and expertly tossed it onto a handrail, then sat down again.

She smiled, the motion causing her to realize how red and irritated her eyes were.

"Now that we got that out of your system, Amy, we still need to talk. What are we going to do with you?"

"Is this when you make me leave?"

The Doctor tilted his head and looked at her. "What? No! What gave you that idea…?" His eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. "Unless this is some sort of passive-aggressive way of saying that you want to leave… You're not passive-aggressive, are you? Generally I'm pretty good at noticing these things. I always thought you were pretty straightforward with everything, too."

"No! I am not passive-aggressive! And I do want to stay. I just thought that you might be angry, or that things would be too... awkward if I stayed."

"Glad to hear that – travelling with someone passive-aggressive is like travelling with a time bomb. You never know if you did something wrong and it just puts you on edge all the time…"

He then patted her on the head. "No – I wouldn't kick you out over something like this. Now, get an advanced computer interface port installed in your forehead, then it's completely different." Amy looked at him funny. "Long story. It ended badly."

"So, there have been others who have travelled with you?" she asked.

"Ah ah ah! Let's not change the topic. Now, Amy, that last adventure was the first time you had the real threat of danger. Understandably, you were scared. Very scared. And there was no real outlet for all that compacted emotion. After it was over, you still had it all, just bubbling away inside. So, I save the day, the person you've obsessed over since you were a child –"

"Watch it, Doctor – I am NOT obsessed with you," she snapped.

"Amy, I was just in your room. There were drawings and little figurines of me and the TARDIS all over that desk of yours. Mind you – most of it looked like it was done in childhood, but there were DEFINITELY some that seemed to have been done a lot more recently… Actually, it was a little creepy. Do I really look like that to you?"

Amy crossed her arms and grumbled.

"Right! Now then – where was I… oh, yes. So, I save everyone, and you have all these simmering emotions that are just eating away at you. Mix that with some definite confusion and mixed feelings about your wedding, some hormones, and add maybe a pinch of already established lust, and what do we get? You trying to undress me. So, the question is, how do we get you sorted out without forcing you to leave, because, obviously, you don't want to go yet."

He stood up to walk around and get his brain working.

"Alright, now; c'mon, c'mon. Think. Think." He hit his forehead with his palm a few times.

"Doctor, have you ever been in love?"

He stopped and spun on his heel to face her. "Amy, you are not in love with me."

"I'm just asking. You said you have a granddaughter. You don't seem like 'Mister Domestic' to me."


"What does that mean, 'had?'" The last of the Time Lords glared at her. Amy immediately brought her hands to her mouth in embarrassment. "Oh… I mean… wow… that was horribly insensitive, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," he replied, a little too curtly. "Now, Amy, you're just trying to change the subject, aren't you?"

"You mentioned earlier that I don't know if we are even able to 'do it.' Biologically compatible, I think you said."

The Doctor resumed his pacing. "Yes… definitely trying to change the subject."

"So, the word usage leads me wondering – you only mentioned that I didn't know. Not 'we.'"

He continued to ignore her.

"So you do know if we're 'compatible' then…" She brought her finger to her lip in thought. "Is the grandmother River Song?"

The Doctor halted and frowned. "No. No, no, no nononono NO! Definitely not! And before you ask, no, I am NOT in love with her."

"So, back to my first question, then."

"Now is not the time to… to… to… gossip!" He threw his hands down for added emphasis.

"Who's changing the subject, now?"

"… Fine! Yes, I have. There – I answered. And that's the last you'll hear of it, so don't pry."

Amy smiled with satisfaction.

"Now, back to you. You're getting married tomorrow– today." He corrected. "Today; it's past midnight, so it's now today."

Amy's smug smile faded to a look of dumbfounded horror. "You're not going to make me get married now, are you?"

"You hopped aboard to delay it a bit, in the first place, correct? Noooo, I won't." He grinned. "Not even I'm that cruel. But, eventually, you are going to have to face the wedding bells, not to mention your groom, Roland."


"Right. Rory. That's what I said, didn't I?" The Doctor stopped in mid-step and smacked his forehead in sudden realization. "Yes!" He smacked it again. "YES! That's it! Rory!"

He half-jogged to Amy and helped her up.

"Amy – is Rory having a stag party?"

"Yeah; if it's midnight now, then it started at about four hours ago at the pub, but I'm sure they'll be there until it closes at 2. Why? Are you planning on going?"

"Something like that. Will he have a large cake?"

"My god. You really are planning on going. I was just kidding."

"Cake? Yes, no?"

"Maybe? Probably? I think he might have mentioned getting a special cake or something... Why?"

The Doctor clapped his hands together and smiled. "Ha-HA! I haven't done this since Albert Einstein's Nobel Prize party back in 1921… although, I didn't manage to actually make it to that one. Wrong cake. I ended up in a smelly flat with a bunch of drunken college students and a beer keg. Not one of my better days."

"What are you talking about?"

"Good question. NOW! To the pub!" He practically leapt to the controls. The mechanical whirring of the TARDIS's brakes being left on began. "It's probably best that you sit this one out. Otherwise things might get a little awkward." He turned a couple knobs and pushed a few buttons before he spun on his heels to face her, a little embarrassed.

"Um… which way is the pub?"

Author's Note: This has been bouncing around in my head for a few days now, but I was too busy running around, saving the world, and similar activities (helping my friend find a pet rat.) In the week before Vampires of Venice came out, my friend and I were very excited –probably unhealthily so– about how they would handle the Amy-almost-molesting-the-Doctor thing, and then were sorely disappointed when it wasn't really touched on except in the cake scene.

Finally found time to write it today; I woke up with a fever of 101.1 degrees F. Good news is, ibuprofen works wonders, and I am almost 97% certain that it is NOT plague. ALMOST.

Anyway, I'm sure that all two of you who actually read this part are absolutely FASCINATED by the state of my health, but that's enough of that.

I admit, this is INCREDIBLY short for me; I generally make it a rule for chapters of my continuing stories to be, at the very least, over 3,500 words, generally in the 4,000 words range. Anything else would have sounded forced, though. Ah well - C'est la vie!