title: now my heart stumbles
author: saywheeeee
pairing: eleven/amy
genre: romance, angst
rating: all ages

She finds him afterwards on the balcony, overlooking the city with its soft light sinking down from the clouds to lose itself in shadows. Funny, she thinks, how they always end up finding each other on balconies, or looking out windows, or leaning against railings. The pair of them, they can't seem to keep away from the edges of things.

She walks up to the railing he's leaning against now and joins him. He says nothing. Together they watch the world below them.

"TARDIS back safe and sound?" she murmurs after a few minutes.

He nods. "Few new scratches, that's all."

Gives her personality, she thinks, before smiling to herself. As if the TARDIS doesn't already have personality in spades.

The light is fading now, touching the tips of the buildings with gold. The Doctor reaches up and puts a hand on Amy's back. She can feel his thumb moving against the corduroy of her jacket between her shoulderblades. After a moment he lets go.

Amy clears her throat. "You almost lost her," she says quietly. "You could've stopped them from taking her if you hadn't rescued me. You might have never seen her again."

"I know."

The silence of the city is overwhelming. Amy rests her arms on the balcony railing and leans over the edge, letting the scarf around her neck fall forward until it's dangling thousands of feet above the ground, her necklace swinging in the wind, her hair tumbling down, cool against her face in the setting sunslight.

"The thing is," the Doctor says abruptly, and she sits up again, stepping back so that she can look at him. His gaze is still on the skyline in the distance. "The thing is, I'd rather have you."

She can't think of anything to say. There is a long pause before he glances at her. His eyes are anxious, and suddenly she feels like laughing out loud and has no idea why.

"Than the TARDIS."

"Yes," he replies immediately.



"All of time and space," she reminds him, gesturing at the universe.

His eyes soften. "Amy Pond."

She does laugh then. The dying sunslight gleams on the horizon, and Amy steps forward and hugs the Doctor, wraps her arms tight around his waist and closes her eyes to the feel of his warm jacket against her cheek and the rhythm of his two hearts against her chest. His arms are tight around her, holding her closer than he's ever done.

"Hey," she whispers, but he's already pulling away, his hands framing her face.

She waits for him to kiss her, softly, wordlessly, but he doesn't. Instead he presses his lips to her forehead once and strokes her hair, and then he lets go, and his hands fall to his sides, and he gives her a tired smile and says "Come on" and walks away from the edge of the balcony.

Amy looks back out at the city. The suns have set, but there are no lights flickering on in any of the buildings, no streetlamps sputtering to life. The moon is tiny and pale in the corner of the sky. She wonders if anyone has ever lived here, and then she turns around and follows the Doctor back into the darkness.