Word Count: 3450

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.

Warnings: Does not strictly follow Who or myth canon.

Note: Two graphics for this are posted on my profile page.

"Pluto saw her, and loved her, and bore her off – so swift is love."

Metamorphoses, Ovid

In a world where Time Lords live and roam the universe, in a place where the oldest human legends tell of the people of Gallifrey, Amelia Pond meets a man who calls himself the Doctor.

She's seven the first time she sees him. He's tired and beaten and raggedy and desperately hungry. He asks her if she has anything he can eat so she gives him the apple in her lunchbox. He eats it, even though he hates apples, because he's desperate. He makes funny faces with every bite and tells her that his name is the Doctor; she thinks he's a bit weird, but funny, and sits with him while he eats.

He doesn't stay long. He barely finishes the apple before she hears some strange gong; he jumps, his face white, and runs off. He shouts that he'll be back, that he'll get her a new shiny apple–maybe even two!–, just give him five minutes. Amelia chases after, confused, and barely makes it in time to see him run into an old blue police box and watch fade away a few seconds later.

She stands there, staring at the spot where the box had stood. After a moment, the pieces click into place and a grin tugs at her lips. A Time Lord–the Doctor is a Time Lord. She found an actual Time Lord. And he's coming back. He's coming back for her!

Amelia runs to tell everyone.


No one believes her. Some people tell her that she must have dreamt the whole thing; some say that she's just lying to get the attention. It can't be true, they tell her, because she's just a child. A small, normal, human child. She's seven and Scottish and too young to understand what it even means to see a the gods of the universe. Why would a Time Lord show himself to her? What use could she possibly be to him? None, that's what.

She doesn't listen to them. She's Amelia Pond, after all. She fights, she screams, she bites; she refuses to take back what she says. The Doctor is a Time Lord and he's coming back. He promised her would–he still owes her an apple, after all! Just they wait and see! She'll show them.

She waits and waits. Five minutes pass, and then another five, and another five. Days turn to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. She waits for years and years. Amelia fades away and Amy takes her place, but she still waits. He wouldn't lie to her. There was no reason for him to lie to her, yeah? He said he would come, so she knows he will.

So she waits and waits.

She waits until it hurts too much and she just can't take it anymore.

She waits until her faith crumbles away.


The very first thing Amy does when she finally sees the Doctor again–wearing a new tweed suit and a red bowtie–is slap him. He yelps and holds his hand to his reddened cheek and sputters some nonsense. She doesn't care; she crosses her arms over her chest and tells him that it's been fourteen years. Two thirds of her life has passed, waiting for him.

He doesn't seem surprised, not at all. Instead he scratches his head awkwardly and explains that he didn't have a choice. There are rules, laws that the Time Lords have to follow. A certain number of years have to pass; a human has to be so old before it's even allowed. He couldn't take her as a child. It would have been too dangerous anyways. He says more after that, but she doesn't hear anything else. Her heart freezes and she forgets how to breathe.

"Take me? What does that even mean?"

"It means, well, it means come with me."


"Wherever you like."

She shakes her head, makes excuses, refuses. She doesn't trust him; he did leave her, after all. So what if he did it so she could come with him? So what if he's a Time Lord? So what if he'll take her anywhere in the universe? He still made her wait an entire lifetime for him. She waited and waited, but he never came.

Except he did come back. He came back for her. Despite everything she was told as a child, the Doctor–her Time Lord–came back for her. Her–the normal, young human girl. He came back to take her with him, to travel through time and space, to see the universe. He'll take her anywhere she wants; let her live a life humans aren't meant to. And, really, how can she possibly resist?

"And my apple?" she asks.

"I'm sorry?"

"When I was kid, you promised me you would get me a new apple. You did take mine, after all."

A playful grin tugs at his lips. "Oh," he snaps his fingers and the new TARDIS doors swing open, "I think I can manage that." She laughs and finally steps through the doors.

Amy steps out of the human world and into the realm of the gods'.


She travels the universe with her Time Lord. They go anywhere, everywhere. All she has to do is say the word and they're there. They go to the Trojan Gardens, race chariots around the sun, visit every star in the Little Dipper. She meets Vincent Van Gogh, Winston Churchill, Elizabeth the Tenth. It's everything Amy's ever imagined and more.

And boy is there more. Because, you see, it's so much more to it than just the silly adventures. She fights Cybermen, she goes head-to-head with Daleks, she stares into the eyes of a Weeping Angel. Because the universe isn't just light and fun and easy. No, there's more to it than that, so much more.

"It's dangerous."

"Yup," he agrees. "Very. Is that a problem?"

A smile tugs at her lips and she doesn't even have to think to answer. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

She knows that's not the answer she should give, because she's not supposed to be here; she has a real life on Earth she's meant to be living. She knows that she should go home; that one day, whether she wants to or not, she will have to. But that doesn't stop her from staying. She knows that she's still a human and that he isn't. He's a Time Lord, after all, a god of the universe. Except it isn't that simple, because he isn't that simple.

He's the most brilliant person she's ever met, yes, but he's also the universe's biggest moron. He wears a bowtie, dances like an idiot, and talks entirely too much. He's kind and wise; he's annoying and childish. He throws her into danger every day, and he saves her every time. He protects her, while teaching her how to protect herself. He's a Time Lord, a god of the universe, but he's so much more than that–he's the Doctor.

Her Doctor.

So of course she's still there.


They accidently get married on the planet Persion III–a planet where all the foods taste like chocolate cake and the people are small, chubby pink people. The TARDIS land during at the start of their spring season and the Doctor asks her to dance together at a festival. Which, as it turns out, is the most sacred way to get married on Persion III. Amy just laughs and the Doctor grins back at her, because it's just another ridiculous adventure they've gotten themselves mixed into.

That night they lay on the blue grass and stare up at the green tinted planets. He points out all the places they've been to and tells her about the ones they haven't seen yet. She rolls her eyes and pretends to only half listen to his rambles, but actually clings to every last stupid word. And, somewhere amongst it all, her hand slips into his. He doesn't miss a beat and squeezes her hand gently.

She doesn't know when they fall into silence, but it somehow happens. He turns his head and catches her gaze. A gentle smile tugs at his lips, and Amy doesn't really think, she just leans forward and brushes her lips against his. She doesn't have to see him to know he's surprised, but, after a moment, it settles and he kisses her back. It's soft and gentle and not at all how Amy usually kisses, but definitely something she could get used to it.

When they break away, he gives her an embarrassed smile and rambles something or other. She rolls her eyes and laughs. "Your first kiss as Mr Pond."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Shut up. Yes, it is."

He laughs. "Amy Pond, you are magnificent."

"Oh, I know." She grins at him for a moment, before she moves forward so that her head rests on his shoulder. His hand brushes against her hair and he kisses the top of her head.

She just smiles.


One morning Amy wakes up to find the Doctor not in their bed. Which isn't right because the morning never leaves without waking her up–he's too damn clumsy to ever leave without making some sort of a bang. Something's up, she realises.

She barely makes it to the Control Room before she spots the Doctor. He grins and tosses something small and round at her. She barely has time to react, but still manages to catch it, and when she does, a smile tugs at her lips.

An apple.

It's a bit smaller than what she's used to and golden rather than bright red, but it's an apple alright. She rolls her eyes, laughs, and tells him it's about bloody time he paid her back.

He grins. "Well, don't just stand there and stare–try it, Pond." She grins back and takes a bite.

The fruit is crisp and juicy like an apple, but sour and sweet like a strawberry. It's cool, but burns a bit when she swallows. Not a bad burn necessarily, but an odd one, ya know? The Doctor just grins some more and tells her it's nothing to worry about, and to finish up and get dressed. He has a surprise for her.

He takes her to Parisia, a planet colonised sixty-sixth century but modelled after seventeenth century Paris. She insists on visiting the museums and seeing the different art; he convinces the chef at dinner to make him fish fingers and custard; they have dessert in front of a crystalized imitation of the Eiffel Tower.

"You're being so nice to me," she says as she sips her wine. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

She means it as a joke, so she expects him to laughs, to tell her that he's always nice to her, to do something. But he doesn't. He just sits there in silence. Finally he looks up at her and he has never, in all the time Amy has known him, looked as old as he does right then. And it worries her.

He tells her he's taking her home, because he's been called back to Gallifrey and she can't come with him. There's a war, he explains vaguely, between the Time Lords and the Daleks, and they need his help. He doesn't tell her much more than that. She frowns and crosses her arms over her chest, and tells him that'll she'll just come with him then. It can't be that much more dangerous than every other time she's seen the Daleks, yeah?

"No!" The Doctor's up and in front of her before she can even blink. "Amy, please." His hands cling at hers and his forehead presses against hers. "Just this once, don't," he begs.

Part of her wants to tell him to stuff it, because she'll do as she pleases. He's already left her once; she'll be damned if she lets him do something like that to her again. But something in his eyes stops her. Because, she realises, he's scared. Genuinely frightened.

"Okay," she agrees.

And, for once in her life, she lets him have his way.


He lands the TARDIS in her garden, barely five minutes after she left. She doesn't say anything when she steps out of the spaceship, but he follows her to her door. He refuses to go any further. And as they stand on the steps, part of her expects him to burst into laughter, to tell her he was only joking. But he doesn't; he just stands there with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Her fingers brush against his stupid crooked bowtie and the realisation finally strikes her: war. The moron–her stupid Doctor–is going to war.

Amy has no idea which of them moves first, but she doesn't really give a damn, because the next thing she knows his lips are against hers and her hands are buried in his stupid hair. He kisses her as if he's trying to say the things he can't actually say, as if it's the last time he'll ever see her; she kisses him to tell him shut up because it better not be.

He presses her forehead against his when they break away. His breath mixes with hers and she feels the tears slide down her cheeks. He brushes them away with his thumb. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"Shut up, I don't care. Just come back, okay?" He doesn't answer her; he just smiles sadly and kisses on the forehead. Without another word, he slips his hands into his pockets and steps back. He almost makes it back to the TARDIS before she finds her voice again. "Doctor!" He turns and looks at her from the doors; she runs over. "I mean it," she says, grabbing him by the jacket, "make sure you get your stupid face back here, okay?"

He smiles again and removes her hands from his jacket. "Goodbye, Amy." He kisses her hands once before he shuts the doors. A moment later, the TARDIS fades out. And she stands there, alone in her garden.

And she waits.


Part of Amy expects to see him within the hour, but she knows that it doesn't work that way–the TARDIS will go where the TARDIS goes. He'll come when he comes, and he will come. She knows he will; she doesn't know how she does, but she just does, and that's enough for her.

Weeks pass by without a word. She never tells anyone about her adventures (it's none of their stupid business), she just continues her life. She just moves in and out of each and every bloody day and hopes that it'll be her last there. And with each and every one of those days, a pain in her chest grows more and more–not only figuratively, but literally.

It starts small, but as the days go by it feels more like someone is tearing her heart in half. She tells herself that it's just some sort of weird space effect–humans aren't made to be travelling across the universe, after all. She's bound to have some side effects. Or maybe she's just gotten unused to Earth. She lists a million timey-whimey excuses. It'll go away soon enough; that or the Doctor will figure it out when he comes back.

Four weeks pass in silent pain. The fifth week, however, is when it explodes. She wakes up in the middle of the night because it actually feels as if her heart is being torn in bloody half. Amy screams out into the empty house, but no one comes. And for a moment, she thinks that this will be it–she's survived Daleks and Cybermen and Weeping Angels, only to die alone in her bedroom from some stupid space cold.

How stupid, she thinks as her eyes flutter shut.

A hand grips at hers and another brushes the hair off of her forehead. "Don't you dare give up on me now, Pond."

Her eyes snap open. "Doctor?" she breathes. He nods. "You're late."

He grins. "Actually, I'd say I'm right on time."

She opens her mouth to say something, but only a gasp escapes. He clutches her hand and his smile tightens. She asks him what's happening and he babbles something or other about biochemical change and some other spacey-wacey terms that she doesn't quite understand. What she does understand is that whatever is happening to her isn't just some space cold and it's not going to stop hurting any time soon.

He kisses her forehead and tells her that he's sorry, but he knows that she can be strong. It will come to an end, he promises, and she can do this. He stays by her side the entire time, never letting her hand go, and tells her about all the places they'll go after this. She tries to focus on his voice, on his hand, on his stupid face, but the pain in her chest takes too much of her attention.

A heat builds up in her chest and little bits of yellow light surround her. The tension in her heart pulls until is finally snaps and the light around her explodes.

And Amy screams.


The very first thing she when she wakes up is the Doctor–with his wrinkled red shirt, his crooked bowtie, and his stupid hair sticking up in every direction–reading her Pandora's Box book. He looks so ridiculous that Amy laughs. He immediately drops the book, grins, and rushes beside her. He laughs and kisses her and tells her that she's magnificent and he knew she would make it. Her grin drops slightly and she opens her mouth to ask him what exactly he means when she feels the strangest sensation: her heart beating in two locations.

He doesn't say a word as she presses her hand against the left side of her chest and feels the heartbeat. She pauses for a moment before she takes a deep breath and presses her hand against the right side and, sure enough, there's a beat. Two beats. Two hearts.

Amy looks up at him with wide eyes and all the pieces begin to fall into place. "What did you do to me?"

The Doctor gives her a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.


She has no idea how long she sits in her bed, refusing to go downstairs. Part of her knows that she should go after the Doctor–God knows what'll happen to him if he disappears on her this time–but she can't bring herself to. Not yet, at least. Right now she's too bloody furious with him.

It was the apple he gave her. It came from the oldest tree in Gallifrey; the tree that the first Time Lords ate from. That, combined with all her time on the TARDIS and any exposure to the time vortex, made, well, a Time Lord. Or Lady, whatever. Either way, it changed her. The reason her heart had felt as if it had been tearing in two was because it really had been.

She's not human anymore.

Amy tosses eventually tosses her blankets off of her. She glances out the window and sees the TARDIS still sitting in her backyard. She goes down the stairs and finally finds him sitting on the front steps, staring up at the stars and looking so very ancient. It stops her in her tracks because she finally remembers that he's been in a war. A bit of guilt swells in her stomach; it doesn't replace her anger, but she lets it take precedence for now.

She takes a deep breath and sits down beside him. "What happened?" she asks.

It had been out of control. There had only been one thing he could do. There was no other way he could stop it. He doesn't give her the full story, only vague answers and short sentences, but he doesn't need to for her to understand. Gallifrey, Skaro, they're gone. There are no more Daleks, no more Time Lords.

"There's only me," he mumbles.

Amy takes his hand in hers; he turns and looks at her with guarded, but widened eyes. She smiles gently. And it isn't that she's suddenly forgiven him now, that what he did is suddenly alright, because she's still furious at him -

"And me."

A slow grin tugs at her Doctor's lips. "And you."

- But she has all the time in the universe to be mad at him.