[ For timeforamy ; Air-Paris ]

[mmkaternater]

[ OOC: Follows this ]

There are approximately 400 billion stars in the Milky Way. A respectable number, for any galaxy. But that's small potatoes when compared to the number of stars found in the entire universe -- something like ten to the power of twenty-four -- which is a very pragmatic, comfortingly mathematical way of saying that space is big.

Really big.

Bigger than your whole town, much bigger than the little flat you have in the city, with the leaky shower head and the upstairs neighbors who like to stomp around wearing wellies filled with bricks. Space is bigger than your township, your borough, bigger than all the places you have ever been, combined and multiplied by themselves until the math makes you dizzy and you have to lie down for a while. Big. Ten to the power of twenty-four. Countless suns, all burning out in the black. Of those, maybe a little more than half have planets. Of those, approximately half have some form of life. Of those, approximately sixteen-million-five-hundred-and-forty-seven-thousand-one-hundred-and-eighty-six have intelligent life, or some variation of it. Comparatively speaking, that is a depressingly small percentage. But, then again, "intelligence" is relative, especially across star systems.

The Doctor is in the TARDIS's control room, hunched over the console, his nose inches away from a chronofribrilator feed that, apparently, requires up close and personal inspection in order for it to function properly. He's muttering to himself, soft space-themed mutter. Once in a while his eyebrows will jump, as if he's just thought of something, but then he will return to his work, subdued. He left Amy in his bed down the corridor, asleep. He does not quite know what to think about that.

He does know that he needs to take her somewhere -- somewhere spectacular -- and he needs to do it right away. What are you doing, old man? You can't honestly expect to carry this off. Not when you're not even being entirely honest with her. Not when she's only just lost her --

He hears bare feet on the catwalk above his head. "Pond!" he announces, "glad you're finally awake. Listen, we're just about to make landfall. Oh, er', well, spacefall, I suppose you could say. Air-Paris: the entire City of Lights, replicated perfectly, floating in the Sunset Constellation of Ursa Minor Minor. Sort of like Starship U.K., but with much more wine and cheese."

Comments

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

The Doctor laughs, thrown off balance, and brings his other arm up to steady her waist. "Oh this," he says, "this is lovely. I like this."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"Yeah? What's it that you like about it?" Amy doesn't lessen her grasp, instead turns her face against his neck. She inhales his scent and smiles against his skin.

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

"It's very..." the Doctor consults the top of Amy's head "...ginger."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"Ginger?" Amy lifts her head to give him a bemused grin.

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

The Doctor returns the look, the edge of his mouth tugged out in a waggish grin. "Cut me some slack, Pond. I narrowly escaped being Mongolian barbecued a very big lizard." He pinches a red curl between his thumb and forefinger. "I think I've earned it."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"You might have earned yourself a bit more than that." His words have made her feel bold, and Amy lifts her chin so her mouth can brush his cheek. She doesn't hurry with the pressure of her lips.

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

'Tip of his thumb against her cheek. The beret's slipped down her forehead and pushed her hair toward her face. The soft strands tickle the back of his hand so much that he's constantly twitching his fingers to avoid the tickle. "Any hero worth their mettle wouldn't dream of accepting a reward for good deeds done."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"What if I insist?" She's buoyed and elated by his words and everything that comes with them, her heart dancing a certain kind of beat in her chest. Amy raises up a half inch more so her mouth can touch the corner of his lips, a sort of tickle in itself, featherlight and gentle.

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

Slowly, dangerously, the Doctor allows himself to be pulled in by her force of gravity: her small fingers curled around his lapel, breath at the corner of his mouth. At this point, it would be very easy for the Doctor to fall completely. And why not? 'No greater force in the universe than gravity. Resistance would be going against the very pattern of the universe.

But it's not you. It's the force itself. You're a dream. A dream built on the memory of a boy who never lived. And sooner or later, she's going to find out that you lied to her. And then you'll be all alone again.

He puts his forehead against hers and closes his eyes. "Amy..."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"Yes?" Amy can feel her own heart beating, but she is more consumed by his. It will never stop being a fascination to her, the way two heartbeats can move in some sort of time like that and still sustain one man to life. He is more than life, he is the center of the universe and all that time has ever given forth, spinning around and about again, madly so, and she is clinging to him with all of the desperation she can muster in ten human fingers and one beating heart.

And for now, it seems it is enough. Because he is with her, and they are together, and she can't want for more.

"Doctor." She closes her eyes, the fringe of her eyelashes dancing across his skin.

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

Go on, Time Lord. Tell her the truth.

The Doctor slips his fingers through Amy's hair, nudging the beret up her forehead. Long, soft strands around his knuckles, spilling into the hollow of his palm, their colour as bright as the light at the center of a collapsing star.

Oh I see. You're afraid of the truth, are you? The great defender of the universe -- the paragon poster boy of right versus wrong -- and you can't even tell a girl that her boyfriend's an existential footnote.

He swallows. "...Amy, there's something I have to tell you."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

Her hand lifts to cup against his cheek, a smooth touch with her palm where her caress warms to his skin. For all of her perceptiveness, Amy is completely unaware there could possibly be anything important for him to tell her, especially when they are this close. When she is taking in his breath for her own and her fingers are tingling gently for sheer want of him, how could anything possibly be important?

"Is there? Because there's something I have to tell you, too, Doctor."

Amy nudges her nose gently against his cheek, then lifts her chin to bring her mouth to his.

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

He's still considering a consonant when she kisses him. 'Has half of a vowel sound when she shuts out sound completely -- one of the most practically and effective ways of shutting up the Doctor -- and all of the things he was thinking of go rushing out of his brain, like oxygen out of a vacuum.

"This is a kiss," the Doctor points out dizzily, lips exploring the corner of her mouth, "'bit different."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"And yet I don't think you're complaining."

Her fingers are twisting gently to twine in his hair, the backs of her knuckles dancing across the nape of his neck, and Amy isn't much caring for details at this point. She's too concerned with his mouth against hers, and the humming of her senses in remembrance for where else his mouth was last night.

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

"I'm alien -- not stupid."

He drops his hands to her hips and steers her toward the edge of the console. 'Slides his fingers up her spine and over her shoulders, pushing the beret from the crown of her head. Brilliant ginger curls spill, fall, tumble out. She has the most extraordinary smell.

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

Amy shivers once, though not from cold, and takes his direction with her arm circling his shoulders. Her hips nudge against his and she gives a little toss of her hair, enough to graze a few curls across his cheek. Dimly, she realizes her behavior is very, very human, but neglects to mind that too much.

Her back presses against the console's edge and Amy arches a little, drawing him in to her with a coaxing pull. Her eyes are dancing in the light the TARDIS gives off.

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

Something about this is blasphemous: the old man and the young damsel, fumbling with one another's hearts in full view of the ancient, sentient time machine. Every time he touches her, the Doctor feels the cracks in the skin of the universe getting wider. The console blinks, but the TARDIS remains silent.

Does she care? Is she angry? Is she ignoring me?

Hands. Hers are on the lapel of his coat and at the back of his neck; his are smoothing out the wrinkles of her dress, down and over her hips. His fingers brush the tops of her stockings. He hitches a breath. Kisses her again.

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

Amy's knowledge of the TARDIS is so very limited. There is little she knows about the amazing machine which takes them to impossible, amazing places beyond any sort of her comprehension, and she could never dare to hope to understand everything which was taking them around now. The TARDIS is alive, so very much so, and it is a witness to their coupling - both last night and this, here and now.

It would make her mind reel to try and understand, but she would try, if she knew.

Her fingers slip beneath his coat, palms flat against his chest so she can push a layer of tweed from his shoulders. His touch against her thighs makes her breath catch in her throat and Amy makes a low sound in her throat, kissing him again.

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

The TARDIS is as much a part of the Doctor as his two hearts. She is the only thing he has left to remind him that Gallifrey actually existed, and her infinite halls and corridors are more beautiful to him than the spires of all the citidels and castles in all the universe.

-- But she is not a passive bystander.

Over time, the TARDIS has gone to considerable lengths to imprint herself on the Doctor's subconscious, and to bring a little bit of himback with her. She is moody, mercurial and, the Doctor has suspected on several occasions, capable of jealousy.

Which is why it does not completely surprise him with it begins to rain inside the TARDIS.

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"Oh."

Amy is caught by surprise now, what with her hair plastering itself to her face from the rain's touch, a few droplets catching in her eyelashes. The water makes his image blur and a smile play around the corners of her lips. Part of Amy which is still a child in so many ways wants to giggle aloud, laugh and throw her head back so she can spin around in the rain, her imaginary friend's hand tight in hers.

Her head lowers to look back at him, into his face, and a smile creeps its way up her lips again. It's a dazzling, happy one, where her teeth catch against her lower lip.

Admittedly, she's always wanted to be kissed in the rain.

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

He blinks against the drizzle and blows a raspberry, vibrating the water off his upper lip.

"What was I saying earlier about surprising you?" he asks, raising his voice to be heard over a sudden peal of thunder.

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"I think you win this round."

Amy laughs, blinking against the rain, her arm still loosely around his shoulders.

"And where we're going next, is that a surprise, too?"

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

"Ah," the Doctor looks 'round, as if their next destination is lying about the foot of the console or in another corner of the room. "Ah!" He raises a wet finger, scattering droplets everywhere. "'Forbid us something, and that thing we desire' --"

He disentangles himself from Amy's arm's and starts splashing about at the console. The TARDIS, sensing that the moment is over, stops the rain. A thin, three-hundred-and-sixty degree rainbow appears around the time rotator.

"-- Do you know the quote, Pond?"

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"Chaucer!" Amy remembers her studies relatively well, even though she missed a great deal of her younger academic years (four psychiatrists could cut into a young girl's life), but she had taken to literature for a few classes or so. There had been things worth reading, and that quote struck a familiar chord.

Her hands clap together once in delight.

"Is that where we're going, to meet Chaucer?"

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

"Very good! Look who's very clever in school!" He retrieves his coat from the floor of the console room and uses it to mop up some of the puddles. "Good old Chaucer -- the rangiest, foulest, biggest mouthed Englishman ever." A beat. "Well, at least until Wayne Rooney came along. Anyway, point is, Chaucer's a fascinating fellow and all this talk of dragons and maidens has got me hungering for the fourteenth century."

He spins a dial with dramatic flourish.

"--What do you say? Fancy a trip back in time?"