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I Will Protest You With My Favorite Vow

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adribetty394
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« on: November 21, 2010, 12:54:22 am »

Character/Pairing: Eleven/River, Rory/Amy
Rating: PG-13 (allusions to violence)
Disclaimer: The BBC owns my soul and this.


“If I’m honest I don’t think I can say, ‘until death do us part’.”

“Is that a spoiler?”

“It’s a thought. There are other things I can vow.”

~~~~~

It starts with death.

He’s thinking about mercy and how little he’s got left and considers that each new body should be refilled with the stuff, but at the moment he seriously doubts that’s how it works.

He is thinking about mercy and how he doesn’t think he’ll find it in himself to forgive whatever did this.

Amy stands frozen by the side of the blue box which sits so impeccable that it gleams amongst the sand and the blood. It says something about how plastic-Rory spent his days that rather than shock and terror there is more of memories and pain in his eyes.

This is one of the images that the Doctor knows will be burned in his mind no matter the color of his eyes or his choice of tie. This image is his now, not because of guilt, but because it will forever be the image behind his need to avenge.


I give to you my protection, my allegiance.

There is a tug of something he used to call instinct and a recalibration of gravity leading him twenty yards to the left, three paces back, behind a rock, five corpses to the right.
There is something pulling him to her or her to him.

It starts with death but not with hers.

*

It takes Amy more than a moment’s time to recognize the body that seems to be surprisingly just the tiniest bit alive.

She doesn’t see it in the brownish curls matted in blood and grime, or the slightly distorted curves of her face.

She sees it in the way he makes his way straight towards her, picking out her barely breathing chest from a sea of dead. She sees it in the way he picks her up, oddly gentle and smooth, and the way he marches back inside with her nearly limp body in his arms.

She sees them. It breaks her heart a little and also it makes it sing. She holds her husband’s hand a little tighter and marvels at the other woman’s faint breathing.



To cherish and keep.


It seems to her, there’s always enough life left when someone holds you in their arms.

The Doctor says a great many things about PTSD and shock and internal wounds and he says them very very fast, but as he places her broken body on a too large unused bed all that he’s really truly said is, “I could wake her now, but she’d only be frightened, pained, and sad.”

In their own just right room, in their own just right bed, they whisper thoughts out loud about the trillion colors of the stars and the infinite twisted pretzel shapes of love.

*

It isn’t the longest time they’ve stayed in place, but it feels like it. Sometimes the two men find each other when they can’t find sleep. They don’t talk much but listen to the humming of the ship and sometimes Rory holds the Doctor’s hand without any shame and says, “I know you’re afraid, but you’ve got to be brave now.”


Our love will open windows to the worlds we lived in as children.

Courage is something he’s always had but fear is something he’s smart enough not to lose, and he looks at her just laying there and tells her half of part of a fairytale upside-down.

“Last month,” he says, “437 years from now you were twenty-five, and you waltzed up to me and asked me to dance and I’ve rarely said yes so quickly in my stupidly long life.”

He shifts the curling halo of her hair, “The week after that you were thirty four or so you said, and that day I asked you and you said yes and it was one of the most fantastic nights of my stupidly long life.”

Her unconscious movements look like a sigh and he wishes they would look like a laugh, “But now I think you’re not twenty five. Now, I think, you are child; it scares me how gorgeous you already are.”

Sometimes when sleep found Rory as it did his wife but still did not find the Doctor, not even with a map; he lay beside her and told her whole fairytales right side up.
He tells her, “Once a very long time ago not too long from now, there was a boy who liked to watch the raindrops shine like silver on the ruby red grass.”

*


I promise to cross stars just to be the sight you wake up to once in a while.

When she wakes up she doesn’t ask the - who, what, when, or why. She opens her eyes to the three staring down at her and focuses on the silly pretty boy in the bow tie. She doesn’t ask the – who, what, when, or why but rather she is asked, “Do you have any idea who I am?”

She remembers many men saying those words and on many days she’d said, “Darling, I don’t care who you are.”

But today when she’s asked by the silly pretty boy in the bowtie she’s compelled to say, “No, but Sweetie, I can’t wait to find out.”

The silly pretty boy with the secret-filled green eyes smiles and the red headed girl laughs and the big nosed boy mumbles something that sounds like, “She’s back.”

*

As it turns out River is nineteen and no longer a child and no one questions that. She doesn’t ask many questions about the lost place filled with sand but she asks if they all died, and when she’s told that they have no one speaks for a while, and Amy’s certain they’ll never really find out who They were.

River walks around the console room at a leisurely pace and he likes to think he can just stand back and watch, but he likes to think many things and act otherwise, “Are you surprised at all?”

“By this place? Yes,” she laughs breathlessly, “yes, I am.”

“It wouldn’t seem so,” he says and counts the steps between them and tries to keep them as they are, “you seem quite at home.”

“It’s just,” she says placing tentative hands on the buttons and levers, “everything about this place feels right.”



I promise that I’ll always sometimes occasionally let you drive.


She smiles and he grins at that, and when Amy and Rory make their way down they find the Doctor teaching River where the breaks are and telling her if she doesn’t leave them on it’ll just ruin the flight.

After one maybe two maybe five bumpy starts, River lands them on a planet with an ocean made of lights and for once in a long time there’s not monster in sight.

“Alright Doctor,” Rory says as the two girls leave them behind laughing their way to the sand, “from now on she drives.”

*

Amy decides quite resolutely that the Doctor and River need to chat for a while and grabs her coat, keys, and man for a night in the town. The town happens to be Viniz on Forin 3 and the sky is a spectacular shade of purple specked with gold.

“Do you think they’re married?”

Amy laughs and picks out the best pink grapes from their batch, “They’re so married.”

“It must be hard for him," Rory sighs, "she has no idea who we are.”

“His turn isn’t it? It’s only fair.”

“No, Amy,” he says, and his eyes turn old, “being forgotten is never fair.”



We will share a lifetime of eternal, immeasurable love.


“Do you remember those days when you were all Roman Rory with your Roman Rory thoughts?”

“Yeah, why?”

“What did you dream about? Did you dream about all the war and fighting?”

“Sometimes,” he said, touching the fire of her hair, “but mostly I dreamt about your eyes.”

She would have teased before, but there were things that didn’t deserve teasing now, “My eyes?”

“I saw them every night,” said her sometimes silly husband, who wasn’t at all silly sometimes.

*

“Torch,” he demanded from below the console.

She sighed as she placed it on his outstretched hand, “Torch.”

“Tercic duplicator.”

River sighed a bit louder this time as she handed him the tube-like device, “Sweetie, are we going to do this all night?”

The tinkering from below the console stopped--- Sweetie she’d said, Sweetie, yes she had---“Is there something else you’d rather do?”



And I’ll always dance at weddings, especially ours.


He could hear the click of her heels on the glass floor, “Amy and Rory are on a date.”

The tinkering recommenced, “So they are.”

“Couldn’t we do that?”

Torch and duplicator clattered to the floor.

It was something like being hit with a cricket bat, surprising, disorienting and just what he needed.

His words were muffled as he squirmed out from under the console, “You want to go on a date?”

In some ways it was as if she hadn’t been here all this time, in some way River had just waltzed in the door, “I thought dancing maybe. Do you dance?”

He blinked; once, twice. Her gaze was steady.

“Yes,” he nodded after a moment, “yes, I dance.”

The night sky is all shades of purple and the stars draw pictures of adventures, twisted timelines, and their eyes.

It ends with dancing, except it doesn’t really end at all.

~~~~~

“And do you ever keep any of your vows?”

“Every single one.”
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Peri-Peri
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« Reply #1 on: November 21, 2010, 10:51:20 am »

Another great story Smiley
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« Reply #2 on: November 21, 2010, 04:20:47 pm »

Absolutely brilliant! I love it
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MandyDuchovney
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« Reply #3 on: December 17, 2010, 08:11:08 pm »

Very nicely put together Cool
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Sarah Jane Smith: No.The universe has to move forward. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love. Whether it's a world, or a relationship. Everything has its time. And everything ends.
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