[ For timeforamy ; chivalric code ]

[mmkaternater]

There aren't a lot of perks in facing your imminent demise come sunrise, but the Doctor has managed to grab on to a few. Perk One: If they know that tonight could very well be your last night on earth, they're going to put you up in very posh lodgings. (Of course, in 14th century England, this roughly equates to a mite-free mattress and not having to share your chamber pot with three other people, but all's fair in love and Medieval diplomacy.) Perk Two: If you are allowed to choose the contents of your last meal and you ask for fish custard, the people who are guarding you are going to give you a very strange look but will not, for the most part, object to you saying that you want to pop down to the bin to make it yourself. Which is when you manage to lose them in the castle's maze of twisting, windy stone corridors.

Actually, this perk might be better than the one about the chamber pot.

Given the volume of the shouting coming from far distant hallways, the Doctor figures he has about fifteen minutes before his dine-and-dash tactic is discovered. 'Plenty of time to find Amy and see that this whole "upon the morning" business is sorted before anyone gets hurt. Specifically, the Doctor himself.

The hallways are like highways, clogged with people and very irritated guards, so the Doctor has taken the overpass. Actually, he's taken the ledge outside one of the castle windows, scooting along the narrow cropping of stone, fingers dug into the mortar. He pokes his head into a window, only to get a chorus of high-pitched screams in return --

"Sorry, ladies! I'll be on my way. Sorry for the intrusion. Lovely bathrobes, by the way!"

-- before he edges along the wall to the next set of windows.

On the massive, four-poster bed in one of the rooms, the Doctor sees a pair of black leggings and a leather jacket. Amy. He grips the window frame and leans in, tapping his knuckle against the leaded glass.

Comments

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

There are many less than pleasant visions winding themselves end over end through her consciousness, and it's no wonder at all that Amy hasn't been able to sleep. She's much more greatly concerned with tomorrow's events, and the fact that Sir Rorrick believes it to be in her better interest for this challenge to take place. Amy hasn't any idea or desire whatsoever for this to be carried through, but according to the Earl - a gentle man, really, without a doubt - there isn't anything to be done about it. No, when that kind of challenge is presented, it has to be followed through.

Amy isn't sure as to the intelligence of that - shouldn't this be her choice, after all? - but there wasn't any point in antagonizing anyone further. She had slipped away from the party as quickly as she was able, and then chose to take up residence in her own rooms for the rest of the night. She hasn't made a move since.

The tapping on the glass startles her, but the last parts of her thoughts are still tangled up in her mind. Before that sound came into her consciousness - if she hadn't been so wanting for it, some might call it an intrusion - Amy had been worrying herself into a tangled state of leather and denim and wool alike. Morning was coming much too quickly for her liking, and if anything were to happen to him -

- but then, suddenly, he was there and at her window, and she is rushing to close the distance between her and the glass. She leaves the bed behind in favor of rushing to the large door, not too far a distance from the window itself.

Without saying anything - further speaking in the hallway might give away their position - she motions him quickly inside.

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

The Doctor pushes on the window, mouths, "locked" and points at the catch. When she's released it, he swings into the room, balancing on one leg on the inner ledge. "Blimey," he says, glancing back to where he came, "you know how they say the first rule of climbing is to never look down? I contest that. My first rule would be don't fall. Sheeyow, that's a long way down."

He climbs down and shuts the window behind him, dusting his palms on his trousers.

"Nice..." he gestures to the pale white shift she's got on "...nightie. I wonder if there was one in my room." Which is to say that the Doctor did not spend very much time checking out the accoutrements before he split to do his highwire routine.

It suddenly occurs to him that Amy hasn't said anything yet. That thought dovetails with another -- what if she's angry? He swipes at the corner of his eye and clears his throat, rocking on the balls of his feet. "So, ah, how was the rest of the party?"

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"I spent the little more of it that I stayed yelling at Rorrick." Amy's voice, when it comes, is rough and irritated, but it's not in the slightest way angled at the Doctor. No, she's much more upset with the fact that her raggedy knight is going to have to face a sword-wielding knight at dawn's coming, and the results might not be good ones.

Her arms unfold from across her chest and Amy shakes her head once, crossing to stand a little bit closer to him. Her heart is beating very fast, and she can feel it in her throat and fingertips.

"Tomorrow, that's really going to happen?"

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

The Doctor sighs. "Not unless Rorrick's going to change his mind after getting the third-degree," he says, moving past her to throw himself into one of the large, overstuffed chairs in the room. He shoves his elbow onto the arm and his chin into his hand. "Not that I'm sure it wasn't intimidating. You can be very...persuasive..." he searches her face to see if this adjective passes the muster.

"Nah," he says, "I'm not really worried. I mean, how skilled can a knight of the realm really be, anyway?"

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"Well, I am." Amy's voice is proof of that, and so is the glimmer in her eyes. It's a rarity for her to show this kind of fear for anyone else, but she has it for the Doctor tonight. The last thing she wants is to see him get hurt, and she knows full well he isn't invincible.

"It's ridiculous, is what it is." She crosses towards the chair he's in, stopping a few paces shy. "I'm not some...prized cow to be passed around to whoever wins a brute strength match."

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

The Doctor, wisely, decides to leave the entire cow comparison business alone. He drums his fingers against his mandible. "I think 'brute strength' is a tick in Sir Rorrick's column," he admits, offhandedly wondering why he never regenerates into the body of a weightlifter, "though I'd wager I have a few more in the 'knows a fair bit about Newtonian orbits,' so, you know, it's pretty much a fair fight."

He gives her a thin, tired smile.

"Don't worry. It'll be fine."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"And what if it's not?"

Now Amy looks to his face and there's wild, unchecked fear in her eyes. She rests her palm against the plush arm of the chair and leans in closer to his face.

"What if something happens to you?"

She doesn't want to think about it, but she doesn't have a choice. Amy's heart is racing in her chest, and her eyes are wide and frightened. The idea of losing him after all this time -

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

The Doctor rests the crown of his head against the back of the chair. "Then you run. You run back to the TARDIS and you don't turn around. Not for anything. You fly away and get back home. The TARDIS knows the way."

Clop, clop. Both boots on the floor. He's leaning forward so she can get the full measure of what he's telling her to do. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you? It's vital that you do."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

She is already protesting, shaking her head and leaning in further towards him. There is hard, fierce resolve in her face, and while she might be young compared to a Time Lord's standards, Amy is a young woman - or so she's told - and she doesn't care to have to leave him for any reason.

"I'm not going to leave you." She looks at him from a position that's a little taller than he is, and leans down so her hand is braced against the chair's arm. Her hair is brushing across his shoulder, red mingling with tweed.

"I can't do that. Don't ask me to do that."

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

Of all the times for her to be petulant. The Doctor scoops up her two white hands in his hands presses them between his palms. "Amy," and his voice has that mad, mad insistence to it, all kinetic and popping from sound to sound, "listen, I don't plan on going anywhere. Not for a long, long while. But if something were to happen...if I were to..."

He presses her small fingers.

"...nah, what am I saying? You're not getting rid of me that easily. This isn't my first duel, you know. 'Got challenged by a Thyriaxian prince once. Of course, those were slightly different circumstances. According to the Thyriaxii code of combat, the most effective weapon for a duel is a feather. Their duels are usually a lot more...ebullient...than most."

But they both know that he's not going up against a feather tomorrow morning. He clasps her hand, winces, and briefly brings his forehead to the backs of her knuckles. "If you have to run tomorrow, run. Tell me that you'll run."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

Tears are burning behind her eyes, and in a moment she hates herself for it. Amy hates her own humanity and the fact she can't keep a poker face at times it matters the most. Like this one. Where her newly found (alien) lover (can she really let herself call him that?) is asking her to leave him behind if he ends up in some kind of danger's path. Is that something that she can really do?

Already she knows the answer before she admits it aloud. Amy lowers her head so her words are somewhat muffled along the top of his hair, puffing a little path here and there.

"I'll run," she says quietly, "but it isn't going to be away. I'll run straight down and pick up a sword and finish it off myself if I have to. But I'm not leaving you. You know that, and you want me to tell you I will anyway, but I - I can't. I can't."

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

The Doctor tugs her -- pulls her -- in some mad effort to get them to share the same orbit. "No," he says, "Amy, no, you run. You go home to Leadworth and that pitiful little post office that's always shut, and you tell your aunt to go boil her head for making you doubt that fairy tales could be real, and you marry Ro --"

he cuts himself off, blanching

"-- and you find more good things to add to your pile." He reaches up to pull his fingers through her long red hair, palm finally settling against her cheek. "I'll find you. I always find a way back to you, don't I?"

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

Amy's vision is blurring and she shuts her eyes a moment to try and bring the world back into focus. It doesn't work, not quite the way she wanted it to, and tears spill from her eyes to fall down the sides of her face. She hates to cry, especially in front of him, but there isn't any way around it now.

"Marry who? What are you talking about?" She cuts herself off before there can be any completion to the sentence, shaking her head again.

"This is all because of me. It's all my fault, and I don't want anything to happen to you."

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

"No, no, no." He strokes the side of her face with his fingers. "Come on then, it's not as bad as all that. You're acting like I've already lost. 'Far as you know, I am an excellent swordsman." Actually, he's not that bad -- remember Christmas morning, the Sycorax ship? Although, that was another man and another face entirely; it's possible that this new version of the Doctor has no talent for swordfighting.

His thumb brushes the high arc of her cheekbone. 'Wet there. He feels his stomach clench on itself. When she cries, it moves him. It shouldn't. But now, after everything they've seen, all they've done and all they've meant to one another...

"We've faced down far worse than the likes of Sir Rorrick, hm? Remember the Weeping Angels? Way scarier, right? No, we've seen much bigger opponents, Pond. Knights are no problem. No problem at all."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

He's steadying her, and Amy feels the world moving back into place. It's better on that way, really, with him this near to her and things not seeming quite so bad. It's true, they were talking worst case scenario for awhile there - and that doesn't have to mean everything's condemned. Does it?

Amy turns her head so she can lean into his touch, then gives her head a nodding little motion. "Yeah, way more scary when I can't see anything," she says, and there might be a touch of a joke in her voice somewhere. It's faint, but it's there, someplace.

"I just don't understand any of this. Why can't he just..let me be? He has to be able to tell I want to be with you."

My, Amy, aren't we blunt?

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

It follows: wherever the Doctor and Amy end up, trouble seems to be right there to receive them with a big old smile and a bottle of stale champagne. In fact, the Doctor would think that something was wrong if they were allowed to skip through space and time unmolested. That says something about the Doctor's personality.

His mouth twists to one side. A smile. Or an approximation of one.

"Yeah, well, he's not mad for wanting to be your champion."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"You were pretty quick to volunteer in there, too."

Admittedly, Amy was a bit taken aback by that. Not because she didn't think he'd want to, but because it wasn't something she had been prepared to have face them. Herself, a lady, defended like that? It was so -

- well, nevermind that, considering where they are now.

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

"I'm the Doctor. I'm everybody's champion."

He says this, and a moment later realizes that it's probably one of those statements that don't exactly reflect favourably on the people who say them. He apologizes with a brief facial expression, then gives her hand a firm squeeze.

"Nevermind all that. What do you say we get up to no good? 'Bit of exploring before bed? Or are you too fully immersed in your role as the lady -- ' Nymph, in thy orisons!' -- to go running about in your nightie?"

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

Amy's feelings want to be hurt, but then she catches the look in his eyes and it makes her wonder again. It's as if - is it true? - this is all rather new to him. Sure, he's been intimate with others in the past, but has it been awhile? And was it ever a companion? This is all very new and strange and foreign, so there will be missteps along the way.

Her eyes flicker up to his face and then hold on, a smirk touching the corner of her lips.

"Wouldn't be the first time I've run about with you in my nightie."

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

"True," the Doctor says, pushing to his feet. His hand still clasps hers; her fine-boned fingers are tucked into the hollow of his palm as if they are hiding. They stand that way for a moment or two. 'Pull of the moon outside the window, the roar of the sea. Warm air comes in off the surf and carries with it the scent of things as old as time.

He draws his free hand over the back of her head and pulls her close, bowing her forehead, his lips pressed against her hairline. "Come on, Pond," he says, "let's go cause some trouble."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

The pressure of his lips does something to her, dizzies her a bit and renders her unsteady on her feet. Amy wonders for a moment if she ever does this to him, but disappears with that thought a few seconds later. She's much more interested in their nearness, and the fact she can feel the warmth of his skin from how close they are.

Amy turns her chin up just a bit, tucking her lips against the patch of skin above the collar of his shirt in a kiss.

"Yeah, let's cause some trouble."

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

'Little tingle. He'd be mad not to notice it. His fingers fall from orbit and it feels strange, for a second, not to be touching her. He wonders when that started to happen.

"Yes, right." He draws himself up straight as a reed and creeps to the heavy door of her chamber. 'Puts his ear to the frame and listens. He can hear heavy footfalls in the hall outside; a rumble as the guards go by a floor overhead. "We don't have a lot of time. Sooner or later, someone's going to figure out that we're in here, and I don't think the 14th Century is supposed to be co-ed."

He heaves his body off the door -- manic, time-traveling yo-yo -- and over to the window, throwing it open and peering out into the dark. "You have a problem with heights?" he asks, throwing a grin over his shoulder.

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"Not as long as I don't look down." Amy's smile is cheeky and impish, she's got a devilish kind of gleam in her eye that comes from being close to him and also from knowing she can have an effect on him. There are little pleasures like that which come from a woman's power over a man - even if that man is over nine hundred years old and nowhere near human in genetic makeup.

She's at his side in an instant, sweeping back the hair from her face and giving him the benefit of her bright, shining eyes.

"Are we climbing up?"

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

"Up and out," the Doctor says, pushing back the heavy brocade curtain, "we'll need to do a little climbing to reach the upper ramparts. 'Bout time to bring back those tree-climbing skills you learned as a kid."

He leans down and puts one palm on top of the other, face up, to help boost her into the windowframe. "Viscountesses first," he says cheerily.

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

Amy takes the boost and gives him a devilish smile in reciprocation. Her foot nests in his hands and then she's out the window, finding a grip to climb higher.

This is a new experience, and she doesn't mind it.

"Coming along, sir Doctor?"