So my parents decided to go to Atlanta for some karate tournament thing this weekend, and since I didn't want to be by myself I'm going to be sleeping over at a friend's house. We have a lovely agenda planned: Anne of Green Gables marathon (my friend calls it 'rehab for our Doctor Who addiction', since we have to wait so long for the rest of this season's episodes lol), Sour Patch Kids for breakfast, that sort of thing.

Because of this, I decided to post this chapter earlier than intended.

Enjoy! :)


Gretchen Teach hated children. She hated them so much that she had never dated or gotten married for fear of having one. To her they were a necessary evil, required for keeping an area populated but not good for anything else. Being a receptionist in an OB/GYN's office hadn't been her first choice as a profession; in fact, it had been her very last choice. But it paid the bills, and she figured it was better than working for a pediatrician. The very thought of screaming tots running rampant in a waiting room gave her the chills.

The day the man with the bowtie and the idiotic hair waltzed in with his pregnant wife and announced he was the Doctor, however, Gretchen knew her days of pretending she cared about the lives of all the hormonal women who gabbed on and on to her while they were waiting were finally over. They both fit the description perfectly, and when Gretchen broke into the office's files later that night, she was thrilled to find that she had been correct in her assumption. And what luck, that the human was carrying his baby! They'd been specific about their preference of a child, if one existed; as young as could be managed. She was pretty sure an unborn one would more than suffice.

Stuffing the file in her purse, Gretchen walked home as quickly as she could, the many digits that made up the reward they'd posted scrolling through her head and spurring her on. She could quit her job once she had those credits, and retire early for good measure.

Once she reached her flat, the woman went straight for her phone and dialed a number. Her manicured fingernails tapped impatiently on the countertop as the dial tone followed. At last, there was a click on the other end.

"Hello, this is Gretchen Teach, resident of New London, New Earth. I think—no, I am certain—I've found who you've been searching for," she said, her lips curving into a smirk.


"Amy. Amelia, wake up. It's just a bad dream, nothing more."

With a gasp Amy returned to consciousness, her breath coming in short bursts, her brow damp with sweat. Annoyed by the jolt of her sitting up so suddenly, August chose that moment to shift into a more comfortable position, making his mother double over in pain. She felt strong arms encircle her, and a second later she was dragged back into the Doctor's warm chest, his fingers skimming through her hair, his steady voice in her ear calming her. She curled up against him and clung to him, surprised to find that her face was wet with tears.

"There were all these men; faceless men. They came for me, took me away from you and Ian and Jenna. I tried, but I couldn't get away from them, and they threw me into this cell—"

"Shhh, Amelia. It was a nightmare. You're fine, you're safe. I won't let anything happen to you," the Doctor told her, rocking back in forth in a soothing rhythm.

Eventually his efforts were successful, and Amy stopped shaking. She refused to slacken her grip, however. "It was the worst nightmare I've ever had. Even compared to the ones from Bai."

"It wasn't real, though. Just a product of your subconscious." The Doctor's lips pressed against her forehead before moving down to nuzzle a spot behind her ear. Her eyes slid closed, and she relaxed, just as he had intended. In no time she was asleep, and he laid her down on the pillows and settled next to her, her body still enfolded in his arms. But unlike her, the remainder of his night was spent wide awake, his mind plagued by the unknown threat that loomed over both their heads.


The following morning began early for Amy, with the Doctor shaking her awake. At first she thought it was still night, but a peek at the window revealed the sun was just starting to rise above the dark city, tinting the deep blue sky a pinkish gold around the edges.

"What time is it?" She asked, her voice still husky with sleep. She noticed he was fully dressed and looked as if he had been up for hours, which was most likely the case.

"Six o' clock on the dot."

"Then why did you wake me up?"

"Because the best time to start calisthenics is bright and early."

"Start what?"

"Exercise."

"Okay, how about this: you go ahead with that and I'll stay here until it's actually bright outside."

"Come on, Amy. You heard what the doctor said. This is vital to the health of you and the baby."

Unable to figure a way out of it, Amy groaned and sat up. The familiar surge of nausea hit her almost immediately, making her fall back into the pillows, her hands clutched to her stomach. "I am sooo over this having kids thing."

The Doctor laid a cool hand on her forehead, checking to ensure that it wasn't anything more than morning sickness. "How about some breakfast? You'll be up and at 'em in no time afterward."

"That's what I'm afraid of," said Amy, waiting another minute before heaving herself out of bed.


Breakfast turned out to be oatmeal and fruit, with a bit of honey drizzled over everything. When the Doctor slid it in front of her with a glass of milk, she just stared at it and then at him.

"What?"

"I'm more in the mood for chocolate pancakes."

"Yes, but that doesn't exactly fall under the classification of 'healthy'."

"Of course it does. It's got, um, fiber, and…there's protein in chocolate chips, right?"

"Nice try."

"Shut up."

"Just taste it, Amy."

Amy had never been one to turn down food, something that became amplified when she was expecting and therefore hungry at all times. She reached for the spoon and slowly brought it to her lips.

The bowl was wiped clean in seconds. Amy pushed it back towards the Doctor expectantly, who laughed and scooped a second helping into it from a pan on the flat stovetop.


"I. Am going. To die."

"No you're not. You're doing fine!"

"I'm sweating. I don't sweat."

"I'm pretty sure it's impossible for humans not to sweat at some point in their lives."

"I. Hate you."

"Now you know that's not true."

"It so is."

"Is not."

"Doctor, zip it!" Amy stopped jogging for a moment to catch her breath, her hands on her knees. The Doctor had bought her black jogging pants and a matching top for the occasion, as well as a polyester jacket to ward off the slight spring chill. She'd fastened her long red hair back into a ponytail herself, but he'd had to help her with getting her trainers on, what with August in the way. Amy couldn't help but be jealous of him; he never had to worry about not being able to see over his stomach. He was even dressed in his regular ensemble, bowtie included, without one bead of sweat shining on his forehead.

"Here," the Doctor said, procuring a bottle of water from one of his bottomless inside jacket pockets. Gratefully Amy took it, not bothering to stop and marvel at the fact that it was as cold as if it had just come out of a freezer before gulping half of it down.

"Can't we just stop now? I'm about to pass out," Amy asked once she was mostly recovered.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Sounds fun to me. Besides, Ian and Jenna could have given Mrs. Bloom a heart attack by now. I'm surprised she agreed to take 'em again after watching them last time."

"It was only a little explosion. And remember, Mrs. Bloom said that lamp had faulty wiring anyway, so it wasn't entirely their fault."

"Mhmm. Sure."

The Doctor opened his mouth to further defend his renegade offspring when he suddenly noticed how empty the street was. Despite the fact that it was early, they were still in a residential area, and there should have been at least one person out walking a dog or fetching the paper or something to that effect.

Without warning, the sky went black, as if someone had snuffed out the sun. The only light came from the distant streetlamps, which had automatic sensors.

"Doctor, what's going on?" Amy asked nervously, her eyes trying to adjust to the sudden change in light.

The Doctor was just as confused as she was, looking around for an answer to the question but finding nothing out of the ordinary besides the lack of sun. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of. "We need to get back to the apartment."

"But—"

"NOW, Amelia! GO!"

The Doctor shoved her ahead of him. She stumbled a bit and nearly fell forward, but he caught her under the arms just in time. They ran together, him propelling her along when she couldn't keep up.

They were too late, however. A few minutes later the Doctor felt something prick his neck. Stopping, he reached up and plucked out a rather large dart, its contents having already been discharged into his bloodstream. His hearts started beating frantically. No.

"Doctor! Doctor, what's happening? Is it them? What did they do to you?" Amy grabbed ahold of both of his hands, the dart having fallen to the ground. Whatever it had been loaded with must have been quite potent indeed, created especially for a Time Lord, for the Doctor was already becoming unsteady on his feet, the darkened street spinning at an alarming rate around him.

"Run, Amy…get away while you still…can…" The Doctor's vision was starting to blur as he sunk to his knees, collapsing entirely when he found himself unable to maintain his balance.

"No. No, I won't leave you." She was still holding on to him as if it would keep him conscious, although she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

"Fight them…Amy. Don't let…them take you." All he could see now was her face, flooded with concern and terror, so beautiful regardless. It pained him more than words could express to know he was about to lose her—and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Amy nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. She lay down beside him, pulling his arms around her, and held his face between her palms. "I love you," she told him, brushing her lips against his.

"Love…you." The last of the Doctor's strength spent on these two words, his eyes closed, and his head lulled to side.

Amy choked on a sob and burrowed into his chest, the faint beat of his hearts the only sign to her that he was still alive.

They came, as she knew they would, the men without faces. One of them attempted to pry her away from the Doctor, but she held fast, sobbing into his shirt. It took three to finally pull her off, and once she was separated from him she lashed out, kicking and biting and screaming as wildly as she could manage. Apparently it surprised them, and for a moment they hesitated, giving her enough time to make a break for it.

There was a possibility that she could have made it, if she hadn't been burdened with the extra weight of a child. They caught her before she reached the end of the street, and she felt a needle jam into her arm, felt herself going limp as the darkness overtook her. After that, she could remember nothing.


NUNCHUCKS DOWN!

Firstly, I would like to remind you guys that I shall be posting the next story shortly. After all, Moffat does cliffhangers all the time and makes you wait two weeks (or months) to find out what happens. I only make you wait a few days at most. Ergo, there is NO NEED to get violent. Thank you.

Reviews make my happy little Doctor Who-infused dream world go 'round. Just remember that. :)