Hey! I'm really glad you happened to click on my drabble/story/thing. I know it's short. I'm brand new to writing Who fics, so don't be too harsh! Also, this takes place at the end of The Angels Take Manhattan, so if you haven't seen it, then don't read this if you don't want to know what happens because "spoilers!"
Disclaimer: If I owned Who… I wouldn't be writing fanfiction.
Even though it hurts I can't slow down
Walls are closing in and I hit the ground
Whispers of tomorrow echo in my mind
Just one last time
One touch was all it took. Amelia Pond stared at the empty space where her husband had just stood.
She began to run, a heavy weight sank into her stomach, dragging her down. The seconds were ticking by infinitely slow, and she felt as if she were running through water; no, blood. That's how the saying went, didn't it? Blood is thicker than water?
"Doctor!" she screamed, not able to hear her own voice.
The Doctor called her, she could hear him, the one single voice that could bring sanity to the madness. She clung to the sound filtering through the cacophony of noises and images that were flashing through her brain, lightening speed.
"Where did he go?" she shouted, pleadingly. "I can't lose him, Doctor!" she cried. "Not again. One more paradox, we can do that, right?"
The Doctor shook his head sadly, "It'll destroy the city."
Amy stared at the gravestone that bore her husband's fate, tears welling in her eyes. Rory Williams- Age 82. Through the salty water that was causing her vision to become hazy, she glared at the slab of rock. Underneath the few words detailing her husband was empty marble, empty space as if… as if it were just waiting for another epithet. "There's room for another name on here, Doctor, isn't there?" she asked, an idea forming.
The Doctor nodded, ready to argue with her. Ready to convince her of a different option. Anything from what he knew she was prepared to do. "If- if I touch the angel, I'll be with Rory, right Doctor?" she asked him, a small spark of hope flickering deep within the anguish that filled her.
"There's no way of knowing, Amelia. You can't. The risk is too great," he began, but she cut him off.
"It's the only chance I've got, isn't it?" she asked him, dangerously close to completely breaking down.
The Doctor began to speak, but River stepped in, answering Amy. "Yes, dear, it is."
Amy turned to the blonde woman who'd been the source of so many conflicting emotions for so long. "River, Melody, sweetie, t-take care of him. He needs you."
River nodded, "I will, Mum."
"Amy, no, you can't do this!" the Doctor had begged, anguish filling his voice. "This is fixed time! I can't come for you again. Not anymore!"
Amy looked back at him, smiling softly, "Goodbye, raggedy man."
Hard stone pressed against her back, and she felt a jolt similar to a strong electric current begin to pulse through her body. A tightness circled her, closing in and forcing her together. The air was pushed from her lungs and there was none to be breathed, not in the blackness that surrounded her.
The Doctor was right… maybe the risk was too great.
Suddenly, she slammed into the ground and found oxygen filling her lungs.
"Amy?" she heard someone ask. Then the speaker was running towards her and dropping to the ground, checking her pulse, pulling her to their chest, and kissing her.
"Rory!" she exclaimed.
"Yah, yah, it's me. I'm here. You'll be fine in a moment." He chuckled before adding, "Creating fixed time hurts."
She reached up, clutching at his shirt and pulling herself closer to him whispering, "I thought I'd lost you this time."
Rory ran his fingers through her hair, "Nah, you can't get rid of me that easily. We always seem to find a way back to each other." He held her in an embrace, refusing to let go.
Finally, after all these years, the Girl Who Waited and the Last Centurion would wait no more.
Yah, so there it is! My first time writing for Who. Tell me what you think? Did I nail it or fail it? I'm always open for suggestions in writing style or whatever!