Doctor Who meme | heartbreaking episodes | (2/?) | A Good Man Goes to War
"Night will fall and dark will rise, when a good man goes to war"
She turns up not two minutes later with the distinct fizzle of a vortex manipulator, appearing right outside the front door, and wastes no time letting herself in. She does hesitate in the foyer, however, not entirely sure where Amy’s room is and not entirely willing to start poking around aimlessly.
Amy’s head lulled backwards on her pillow, red hair fanning out like a halo. When the sound of the door opening reached her ears, she pulled herself reluctantly into a sitting position, the book in her hand being placed gently on the table beside her bed, gaze coming to rest on the doorframe.
”Up here.” she called, Scottish drawl travelling slightly muffled down the stairs.
thetimetravellerslibrarian replied to your post “[TEXT] so we’ve got to talk like asap can i drop in”
[TEXT] okay good i’m on my way over
[ text ] Okay, the door is open.
[ text ] I’ll be in my room.
Too long a time he’d spent locked up in his study; in fact, he’d set a new record for the amount of time he could sit down doing just that — not getting up to see anyone or do anything. Just sitting, left alone to his mere thoughts. It didn’t take the Doctor long to realise how much of a terrible idea that was and, in a matter of seconds, he’d shrugged on his coat and walked out of the TARDIS doors, hands in pockets and mind set on adventure; anything to stop his thoughts from wandering. If he stayed alone for too long, they began to amble towards things he’d rather not linger on; his mind would dangle the downsides of (semi) immortal life right in front of him, taunting him with the series of almosts; of ‘could have beens’.
The shift applied to his everyday life (and by everyday life, he means the exact opposite of that), took him off guard; it was hardly what he’d been expecting. Familiar eyes caught sight of him (as familiar as they get) and, by natural impulse, his legs guided him in the exact opposite direction. The crowd that had once been a nuisance to him, soon became incredibly convenient; he’d grown accustomed to weaving his way through streets of busy people with places to be and people to meet — each and every one with their own life, their own family and friends. And sometimes — just sometimes — people would (accidentally or not) entangle their lives with his. One person in particular being Donna Noble; he couldn’t risk even looking at her; allowing her to look at him.
It was a risk he wasn’t willing to take; would never be willing to take.
What he didn’t realise, however, (until a few seconds afterwards) was that in his rush and nervous haste, he’d managed to barge into a young woman’s shoulder and send what looked like all her hard work, flying. After pausing in his steps, and making sure the ‘coast was clear’, he turned on his heel to check on the woman, eyebrows raising as he caught on to the huff of annoyance that escaped her lips.
❝Sorry—-about that. Bit distracted, as you could probably—tell.❞ Words tumbled from his lips, trailing off on the last words as he could practically feel her distaste for them. Okay, so she wasn’t having the best day - that he could tell. And possibly fix.
❝Let me help,❞ he uttered, offering her a minuscule smile before bending down to aid her in picking up the papers that had fallen from her grasp.
Amy, admittedly, regretted the exasperated sigh as soon as it passed her lips, but it was already out there. This week had been a nightmare, full of nothing but paperwork and long hours with very little rewards. Her pay was enough to get by, but only just. This existence was undoubtedly not what she’d had planned for herself but since she had opted out of university and settling down for less than she deserved, she had no other alternatives. There was no way out.
Being trapped— in Amy’s opinion— was the worst feeling in the world and therefore brought out the worst in her. Leaning down to tuck a few stray strands of red hair behind her ear, a small smile twisted it’s way across her features. He was attempting to help, and that caused the ice that had momentarily seized around her heart to start to melt away.
❝I am so sorry.❞ she replied, bringing herself back up into a standing position, shifting the weight of her papers to her right hip. When she caught his gaze again, her face was nothing but apologetic. For the first time, she takes in his appearance. From his pinstrip suit to his Converse all the way to his chestnut locks. His face was also contorted apologetically and okay, she had to admit it. He was very attractive. How could she possibly stay mad?
❝I wasn’t watching either. And I’ve just been having a— really, really rough week. It’s probably more my fault than yours.❞
[ text ] Uhm… yeah?
[ text ] I’m home now.
His gaze on her was still; unwavering. Even as she glanced towards the street opposite them—he remained focused on the situation at hand, his curiosity getting the better of him as he awaited her words. This wasn’t supposed to happen - this wasn’t how things worked anymore; becoming interested meant becoming attached and that was something he merely couldn’t work with. There was no time for attachments in a world of cruelty; not when there were pieces of c o a l where your hearts once were. She spoke with confidence; it sent a shiver down his spine (again, unnatural) and made his back straighten, smirk fading just slightly.
❝Amelia——lovely name, that is. Sounds odd on a girl like you. Too—fairytale.❞ Observant eyes watched closely as she stretched out her fingers before him, keeping a close eye on anything that may be deemed a threat. When he was sure there was nothing else she was wielding (on her hands, anyway), he moved his hand forward to grab hers, his fingers caressing hers. ❝Oh, I entirely agree. Using a weapon—-it’s all in the fingers, really. Making sure to maintain a steady hand; shaking is a terrible disadvantage. The way you held your weapon signified experience. You’ve done this before.❞
The once-fading smirk slowly began to regain its confidence; he moved away from her to head in the direction of the street she’d just been staring at. Forget the box——he was going to figure this woman out. ❝Which means you could very well be dangerous.❞ For a moment, silence enveloped them—the smirk turned into more of a smile than anything else (there’s a big difference). ❝I’m the Doctor,❞ he begins, turning only to look her dead in the eyes. ❝Coming?❞
Amelia teetered slightly on her heels, gaze sweeping back over the man in front of her fiercely. He was a puzzle, plain and simple. She would tell herself that over and over again as justification for why she didn’t simply turn and walk away. She didn’t need anyone around her— she didn’t even like people, but there was something about this man that kept her rooted to the spot, emerald eyes searching for something she couldn’t quite put a name to.
❝You can call me Amy, if you’d like. That’s what I tell people my name is; so they have something to scream when they’re begging for their lives.❞ And there it is. No more cloak and dagger. No more concealing her true nature beneath flirtatious, empty words. She felt the knife in her back pocket, making sure her hand was a comfortable distance from it. If she needed to, Amelia wanted to be able to grab it with only a second’s hesitation.
When he turned, walking with purpose down the street, she faltered for a moment. She hadn’t made it this far just to follow a strange man right into some kind of torture chamber. She had seen it in his eyes— he was just like her. He held the same darkness; felt the same urges. Even if she didn’t feel that she was in any particular danger, following him into the night registered in her mind as a bad idea. It had been a long time since she’d allowed her mind to control her actions however, and after his last utterance her feet started to move, black heels clicking against the pavement until she’d caught up to him.
❝Doctor, eh? Does that title come complete with a God complex, or are you one of those self-serving types?❞ Her voice is taunting, though teetering more towards teasing. She had questions— thousands of them— but she would keep them locked away in her head until a more opportune time presented itself.
The Ribos Operation - season 16 - 1978