YesIEatQuiche if, for some weird reason (do you even get Doctor Who is the US?) you decide to read this, then DON'T. I quite enjoy the fun we have R&Ring each other's stories, and I don't want to destroy anything sweet…

Little Fire Thief, that goes for you too.

Ooooh and for any other readers by the way, you'll have to assume for this story that the Doctor hadn't gone to collect Rory yet, lol. Thank you.

Amy Pond lay on her bed in the TARDIS, for some reason unable to sleep. She'd had a hectic day; the Doctor had taken her to the planet of Eliserber and shown her all the wonders, but bizarrely she had been unable to concentrate. The Doctor's enthusiasm was usually so enrapturing- not that she needed the Doctor's help for this- that Amy would become completely overwhelmed herself. This dramatic change in attitude had begun to frequent more often than she would like, and for the first time, Amy was beginning to get scared. What was stopping her from taking pleasure in each new town, world and planet? Why couldn't she immerse herself in all the marvel that the Time Lord had to offer? For goodness sake. She was in a time machine, she could go anywhere, do anything. And yet she was visiting all these places like she was a child again, being dragged by her aunt round museum after dusty, dull museum.

Her green eyes fixed themselves on the enormous expanse of the TARDIS's ceiling, yet she was really seeing nothing at all.

We can't do this. It's wrong- you are getting married to Rory! No-You need sorting out.

The same words, spoken by the same voice, played an endless record in her consciousness, screaming to be heard. Amy had long ago tried to convince herself that she had flung herself at the Doctor through sheer greed… time travel and sex? Could life get any better than that? She supposed that she loved Rory, but he wasn't there. He probably wouldn't even have minded, dear Rory. He didn't care when she was a kiss-o-gram, dressing herself as a policewoman, French maid or nun then getting off with men at parties.

But the Doctor had cared. He had almost seemed angry about it. Why the hell did that turn her on? And as for Rory, she thought to herself, almost viciously, why does her have to push the marriage thing quite so hard? Why do we have to get married now? Why not in a few years when I'm… when I'm READY? Not for the first time she resented her boyfriend and his weak-willed clinginess. Unlike another man she knew who would do whatever the hell he liked, misguided or not…

Stop! She was Amy Pond. Fiery, no-nonsense Amy Pond that used to glide through men like a knife through butter, who formed emotional attachments as readily as a Jewish man proclaimed he was inspired by Hitler. No way was the Amy Pond going to get dragged into some erotic fantasy that led to nowhere. You only like him because you know you can never have him.

Have you ever fancied someone you know you shouldn't?

She had met his eyes at that moment, but bless him he had seemed oblivious, far too excited at the prospect of saving the world for the Nth time. But that's all it was then, a crush. He was her Raggedy Doctor, the man who had taken her on wild adventures, the one that saved lives on almost a daily basis. No, it wasn't even a crush, it was hero-worship. She liked him because he was so powerful, and that was it. Or at least, that used to be it.

She now lived, it almost seemed at her most desperate moments, for his touch. For a man so not human he was agonisingly affectionate. They hugged each other frequently, touched faces and held hands. Each brush of his fingers used to be innocent but now they burned into her, unleashing fires that needed to be quenched. She now wished when they hugged that his hands would glide lower than her shoulders and trace her breasts, slide her bra-strap from her shoulders and have his thumb stroke her nipples, allowing them to become hard with desire. His hands would soon be replaced by his mouth, and she would fall into the world she really wanted to visit, undressing him slowly and savouring every detail of his lean, tall yet toned physique that was soon going to be hers.

No such thing happened of course, and at Amy's attempt to er… suggest such thing to be happening had fallen rather flat. But that wasn't just it. Amy wanted something more than sex- though of course that would do- and she couldn't quite place her finger on it. It was a feeling deep inside her, half buried by her desire, and she had no way of telling what it was. No matter. It would resurface in the end.

A feeling semi-crossed her mind to slip out of bed, to watch the Doctor while he slept and perhaps wake him up. Just to talk, nothing else. Her long, white leg slipped from the sheets, yet something stopped her from the early morning disturbance. He might guess that something was wrong and then send her home, back to plain-old, getting-married-in-the-morning life. She didn't want that, she couldn't have that.

Go to sleep. Sighing, Amy Pond turned on her side and closed her eyes. When she dreamed, she dreamt of the obvious.


"Amy Pond, you need to wake up."

Amy's eyes fluttered open to find the Doctor standing over her, boyish grin in place, thick brown hair flopping over his high forehead. "Whaa-" Violently, to remove the little-sleep sluggishness from her brain, she sat up. "Doctor! What time is it?"

In his usual outfit (costume?) of tweed jacket, bowtie and braces the Doctor sat on the end of her bed, crossing those impossibly long, thin legs of his. "Oh not late. Only two in the afternoon."

"Two in the afternoon?" Amy ripped back the covers, remembered she was only wearing her underwear, and quickly pulled them back on herself, cursing in embarrassment. The Doctor gave a short chuckle.

"Come on lazy-bones, I don't care. It's nothing that I haven't seen before." He rose up from the bed, and started to walk towards the main room of the TARDIS where his beloved controls lay.

"Nothing that you haven't seen before?"

Mid-stride the Doctor paused. "Yes. Well, no. Not meaning you. Other… other people." He shook his head, flustered. "Does it matter? Quick, get up and we'll see what's going on today."

"Can you pass me my clothes?" The Doctor picked up cautiously one of Amy's many vest tops and short skirts, then threw them haphazardly at her.

"Come on, Pond. We've already wasted half the day. Not that it matters. If you really want I could try and get it back…"

"Shut up." Amy pulled herself from under the duvet, and turned her back to him, getting dressed as quickly as possible. Other people. It's… it's just me he doesn't want. "I'm ready! Ready for another day, in SPACE!" She had her usual naughty grin fixed on, but the Doctor didn't look at her, too busy wanting to see where the TARDIS was to take them. Amy dragged her unwilling self into the main room, grin on the point of making a definite waver. Other people.

From that moment on the day progressed as usual, although the Doctor (though it may have also been Amy's paranoia) seemed a lot more conscious of the slip he had made that afternoon. Amy in response became increasingly closed in, giving one-word answers instead of her usual thirty, her good humour evaporated like a desert's oasis.

Finally, late evening after going precisely nowhere seeing as Amy appeared so unwilling, the Doctor let his babbling about oh the wonders, oh the wowness, oh the joys of the TARDIS grind to a halt. Suddenly, the enormous room seemed very, very quiet. Amy was making tea in the corner, deliberately not looking anywhere but the kettle. She didn't know the Doctor was behind her until she heard his voice.


Gasping in surprise, Amy's arm shot out and knocked over a cup of the hot drink, it's sticky beige contents making a break for freedom to the clean floor.

"Oh, you!" Amy whirled around, pretending to be light-hearted. "Don't scare me like that! Now I'm going to have to make you another cup of my completely fantastic PG Tipps." She paused, waiting for the Doctor to continue the joke. Instead, to her shock and almost horror, his hand slid to her face.

"Are you happy being with me, Amy?"

It was like all of Amy's recent nightmares coming true at once. What do I say? Yes… no? If I say no will he ask me to explain why? Oh for goodness sake… what do I say?

"Happy?" She repeated, looking puzzled. "Yes… of course."

"No." The Doctor was quizzing her facial expression, his eyes staring deeply into hers. "There's something wrong…something missing. You want something." His index finger gently touched under her right eye, as if checking for tears. "What is it that's missing for you, Amelia Pond?"

He was very close, and Amy opened her eyes wide, drinking him in. His expression was thoughtful and intelligent, yet his quirkiness sprang close to the surface, each mannerism answering hundreds of questions, asking even more. The green of his eyes were as intense as she had ever seen them, eyebrows drawn low as he attempted to sift through his companion's emotions. Amy felt another pang of the feeling she wasn't sure what was, trying not to sigh as his light touch was searing through her like white-hot electricity. The moan was rising in her throat, but she forced it down, not wanting to end such close contact with the object of her… her…


"No. No!" Abruptly, with no warning, the Doctor ripped his hands away from Amy's face and backed off, his shout still ringing in her ears. Angrily, he pushed the hair back from his eyes. "I told you NO. Why…" He pointed at her, still backing away. "Why don't you listen? Why are you so HUMAN?"


"DON'T TALK TO ME!" The Doctor's roar made her jump, and although he had screamed at her before, it was nothing like this. Before she could stop herself, hot fast tears were gliding down Amy's face. She had ruined everything. Worse, she'd lost everything that ever was.

"I'm taking you home. Back to where you belong. There will be no more human's on this ship. They're not… they're not worth the trouble." He began to fiddle with the controls, not even giving Amy a glance.

"Please," His companion's voice was quiet. "Please, listen to me."

"What would you have to say that I would want to listen to, Pond?" For the first time, Amy began to realise that the Doctor truly wasn't a man, but something far beyond, something untouchable. His tone was flat and cold, all trace of affection wiped clean. "Hopefully in time, the crack in your wall will be gone. Although by then I suppose you'll be living with Rory. So you'll be happy either way."

"Will you say goodbye?"


"Will I… will I never see you again?"

"Not if I can help it."

"THEN DON'T HELP IT!" At this agonised scream that stunned even Amy herself, the Doctor finally, finally, looked up. She stared fiercely back at him, long fingers clenched at her sides, giving him her most defiant stare. The tears continued to slide down her face, but she didn't dash them away. The Doctor's cold inhuman resolve suddenly broke, his face crumpling.

"Amy… I… I just wanted you to be happy. I'm sorry I ever took you with me. Amelia Pond, fairytale Amelia Pond with the crack of time and space in her wall… I couldn't resist showing you what I have seen."

"You could still show me."

"No. I couldn't."

"You wanted me to be happy."

The Doctor came towards her then, and Amy stepped back, afraid that her defiance had gone too far and he was to punish her. Her back grazed the wall, and the floor she stood on was wet with tea- she could not move any further. Slowly, the Doctor reached out, but instead of harming her, gently held a strand of her hair. The dark red wound around his fingers, and his companion watched him, still frightened.

"I've wanted you to be happy for fourteen years, Pond. I came back for you."

"And now I want more."

"It's not possible." As the Doctor was saying this he was coming closer, the gap between them now so small it couldn't be seen by human eyes. "The danger involved…"

He kissed her. Amy Pond, the one that usually orchestrated when the kissing was to be, allowed herself to be guided, rather than being the guide. At first his mouth was soft and gentle, but soon became harder, his lips firm and fresh against hers. His hands were now buried in her red hair, gripping her head in place. In ecstasy, Amy opened her mouth and the Doctor slipped in his tongue, the flesh sweet as it touched and danced against her own. Without pausing, he struggled to remove his tweed jacket, and pushed up his sleeves, revealing toned forearms. Finally he broke away, eyes even brighter than usual.

"Are we done?"

"No, we're not!"

"I didn't think so. Oh, Amelia Pond." He kissed her again roughly, this time cupping her breasts, circulating them with long-fingered, artistic hands. His thumbs rubbed at her nipples, already marble-hard, and he pulled at her bra straps, sliding both bra and top down to her waist. Gently, the Doctor led her down the floor, and he lay on top of her, kissing her mouth, then neck and down to her chest, where he bit her first lightly then harder, making her moan in elation. His penis pressed against her, hard underneath the clothing, assuring Amy of it's size. Scrabbling desperately in a haze of pleasure, she pulled off his braces, and unbuttoned his shirt slowly to savour the experience. The Doctor pushed against her, torso warm, her breasts flattened against his chest, his eyes never leaving hers, charming, enigmatic smile always on his face.

"I've discovered a good talent of yours, Pond."

One of his hands still stroking her swollen nipple, the other wondered down further, unbuttoning her denim skirt. Amy arched her back, ready for what was to come. Painfully slowly, his touch feathered down her long thigh, and back up again harder, fingers slipping into her so quickly she barely felt it. She gave a low moan of longing, willing him to do it again, but never stop. Again, she felt him stroke and massage her thighs, slowly inching upwards, only to taunt her by lowering for a second time. When she finally thought she could take no more, the touch was inside of her properly, making her wet as he alternatively teased and released her, finally rubbing the warm ball of flesh down hard; she gasped and writhed, thrashing with liberated joy and pleasure-orientated cries.

Without pausing even to think, she began to fumble with the button of his trousers, pulling his cock free from it's confines. The smooth skin blushed and throbbed as his erection became even harder, her nails scraping the shaft lightly, making him audibly shiver. She twisted downwards, and allowed her tongue to lightly touch the tip, then encircle, finally sliding it into her mouth and out again. The Doctor gave an animalistic groan, his eyes now closed and grin gone as he tried to keep it together. "Amy…"

She pulled away, and it came to her; exactly what she had wanted. The feeling she couldn't put her finger on. "Doctor," she pressed her lips to his ear, voice choked in excitement. "It's not just you that I want. I want your power, your inhumanity, your lifestyle, your thoughts, your mind. Doctor, I don't just want to have you. I… I want to be you."

The Doctor stared at her. "Amy… I'm flattered." He parted her legs further darting with his own tongue, and finally pushing into her, both panting at once. The steady rhythm began to get faster, Amy with one hand in the Doctor's hair, the other gripping his back, as he leant down to suck at her chest whilst keeping the movement. His face was screwed up as he struggled not to come, trying to make everything last longer…

The noises of their orgasm seemed amplified in the TARDIS, their pleasured breaths echoing back to them, as if in agreement. Exhausted, the Doctor rolled off, and pulled Amy close to his naked body, his sweat showering onto her so she could taste salt.

"Amy Pond… and to think I met you when you were a little girl."

Amy shot him an amused glance. "And now you just sound like a pervert."

"I know. Wrong thing to say."

There was a long, yet comfortable silence as both parties basked in their post-coital glow. Both bodies were entwined with the other, no longer lustfully, but unwilling to break the connection.

When the Doctor spoke again, he sounded sad. "What about Rory?"

"I don't know. I do love him. At least, I think I do."

Another short silence. Then-

"Amy… did you mean what you said? You don't just want me, you want to… be me?"

"I…I…" She didn't know what to say, then opted on the truth. "I did. I thought that having you was the closest I'd get, but now I realise they're different. I want you, and I want to be you."

"You know that's impossible?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

The Doctor pulled her in close to him again, and stroked her hair. "It's a hard life out there. But it's all the little things that can make living slightly brighter. You've certainly brightened my life, Amy Pond."

No flames s'il vous plait. I tried. =S