This idea has been burning my fingers, I so needed to type it out! I realize this is not a new concept, but I really wanted to give it a go. Many kudos to those who have already done this prompt because they have all done it remarkably well! I can only hope to measure up if even a little.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of its characters/actors. I do own a TARDIS plush that has patiently allowed me to listen to its awesome sound continuously for hours on end. You win some, you lose some.


The Doctor often lurked behind Amy's closed eyes. She used to dream of adventure and chaos, of erupting volcanoes and narrow escapes. But in the time spent with her Doctor away, she could only dream of him. Simply him. His form, thin and garbed in tweed with a face never aging, and his eyes displaying the same old and weary loneliness that could come only from centuries of running.

She dreamt in TARDIS blue shades. The color pervaded her senses until she would wake up thinking it could not have possibly been just a dream. But the gentle snoring of Rory beside her and the sound of rain upon the roof of their suburban home spoke otherwise. There she would lay and stare up at the ceiling, thoughts only of a blue box somewhere and sometime far away.

It was on one of these many nights that she allowed a sigh to escape her lips. She turned over to face the window with its streetlight illumination. She closed her eyes tightly, willing every inch of herself back to sleep.

There she was, floating amidst stardust and faraway moons, breathing air created by some unknown force. She smiled serenely, awaiting the familiar presence of her imaginary friend. But he did not come. She pirouetted, eyes searching the space around her. No one.

She shivered, now keenly aware of the loneliness of space. She closed her eyes tightly in a vain attempt to shut the emptiness out.

"Little Amelia Pond," a voice called to her. It was not the Doctor's, for its tone was distinctly feminine.

Amy twirled around, her fiery hair floating into spirals around her face. Somewhere far away she could hear the tinkling of bells and the familiar sound of a sudden materialization of a very old, very new, and very blue box. Her eyes fell upon the guest in her dream, albeit uninvited but not necessarily unwelcome.

There Idris stood, standing among space with regal grace and a wise air to her. She smiled coyly at Amy, her eyes large and shining, while her skin was all pink and gold and glimmering. She held out a hand, beckoning Amy to grasp it.

Amy's blue nails seemed to complement the bright woman in front of her. Idris, the personification of the TARDIS was there before her. Amy could almost weep in her presence as she grabbed hold of the woman's hand. She squeezed the fingers tightly, unable to shake the feeling that this was a real event occurring.

"I miss you," she said, almost choking on the words. "How is he? The Doctor?"

Idris' smile was bittersweet, a greeting and a goodbye all at once. "Girl Who Waited, Amelia Pond," she began, her voice ethereal, "he needs you more than you could ever know."

Idris' hand squeezed back. Amy exhaled slowly. Pictures of a darkened console room and a lone figure leaning over the levers and buttons, eyes tightly shut in pain, flooded her vision. No wound was evident on his body. The pain was that of a lonely dreamer, of an aimless hero left alone to fight existence and live forever. His shoulders began to shake as if the weight of the world was finally too much for this noble Atlas. All at once the image broke away, fading like the sun on the end of a winter's day. The sun that flew away to leave the world's creatures to bear the cold.

And suddenly Idris' lips were upon Amy's. There was no time to think a coherent thought.

To Amy, kissing her was unreal. It was like trying to swallow a star, and allowing its light to replace your blood with a bright and intense fire. It was like floating in space mere seconds away from a gravitational pull that would send you sky rocketing back to the ground in a blur of fear and skin splitting wind. It was like kissing the core of creation, kissing time itself. It was clumsy yet consuming in its power.

To Idris, kissing her was like feeling the red grass of Gallifrey underfoot. Like sensing the impression of her mass on a ground that no longer existed. It was a memory grasped and deemed real for one intense moment. It made her undeniably sad and irrevocably happy all the same.

"Take this and find us," Idris whispered into Amy's lips. Her form slipped from Amy's fingers, though she tried to grasp it with all her might.

Tears fell in long, warm streaks upon Amy's face. "I will," she cried into the nothingness that took Idris, the TARDIS; all her childhood wonderment that arrived with a blue box in her garden one fateful night. But she did not know what Idris had even meant. Take what?

Amy could hear thunder from outside her dreamscape. It sounded again, an echo to the first strike of lighting's sound. It grew louder, frenzied, before she realized it was not thunder at all. It was coming from within her, a pounding that could only be human. A human heartbeat. Yet it wasn't. Heartbeats did not echo. That was an impossibility. Right?

She sat bolt upright in bed, hand over her chest. There it was. A heartbeat. Then what? An echo of that same heartbeat? Impossible! Impossible... but it wasn't. Impossible Amelia Pond did not feel one heartbeat.

She distinctly felt two.


Taking a break to continue brainstorming and doodling Amy Pond all over my planner.