[ 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

[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?"

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

"Presently," he replies, just before someone starts pounding on the chamber door. "Milady, it's Sir Rorrick! Is everything all right? The Doctor has escaped! I have the guards after him -- open the door!"

The Doctor leaps from the window ledge and starts hauling the large chair across the room with a scrape of heavy wooden legs. "Saint Christopher's cross!" he cries in a high falsetto, aping Amy. "How dare you address me so informally! Away with you at once, sir knight!" As he shoves the heavy chair against the back of the door.

"I am sorry, milady. Is everything all right? I heard --"

"Nevermind what you heard! Go away!" Beat. In his normal voice: "And get a haircut."

He hops up onto the window ledge beside Amy, swinging out onto the balustrade. "Chair should hold him for a few minutes, but we'll want to double-time it, if you please --" he gestures to the narrow lip of stone. "Onwards and upwards, milady."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

It takes a world over of self control for Amy to refrain from bursting into laughter. She wonders for a few seconds if the Doctor has lost his mind, but of course that's far from the truth. No, he's buying time - and right now that's what they need.

Amy hurries out the window and to higher places, her fingers grasping for a hold against the stone. There's a rough breeze that whips against her hair and she can't see the Doctor beside her - she has to rely on instinct and trust - and she gives him the benefit of both.

"I still don't know why he's treating you like a prisoner," she retorts petulantly. "It's not like you've gone and done anything wrong -"

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

"You're human," the Doctor points out, "it's your species. All of your wonderful inventions -- brotherhood, camaraderie, microwaved pizza -- but then you get it in your heads that you need to be competitive with one another." He kicks one leg up over the edge of an overhang and hauls himself up, offering her a hand.

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

She puts her hand in his, her fingers clasping over his own. "Don't blame me for the show of masculinity that's going to happen at dawn," she volleys back, her tone petulant. "It's very clear to me whose arm I'm on, and voluntarily. I don't understand why he's become so..angry with you."

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

"I suppose it all comes down to attitudes and perceptions. We are rather...familiar...with one another." He lifts her onto the ledge with him. "He probably thinks I'm a bit fresh for a knight."

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"He said something to me -"

Amy has a moment where she can't quite recall, but it comes back to her as quickly as it left. She remembers Sir Rorrick's eyes, the way he had looked at her, and it makes her wonder.

" - something about..he'd give his sword and shield to.."

She shakes her head. "It sounded poetic."

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

"Well, there's your first problem," the Doctor says dryly. "First poetry, then threats of violence? We really should be educating our children about the dangers of Keats and other ruffians who write like him. I wager far more young people have been hurt by poetry than the likes of video games."

He's kidding, of course. But what she said about Rorrick bothers him -- has been bothering him -- ever since they left the hall. The way the knight looked at Amy; the way she looked at him... It's almost as if she had been trying to pull memories through him.

The Doctor brushes his smarting palms on the front of his trousers. They're very close to the highest part of Dover Castle, on the rampart just below the top tower, and the view is incredible. From here, the sea looks like a vast, flat disc, unchanging. Though he knows their pursuers are close, too, the Doctor can't resist bounding over to the wall to look out at the ocean. He rests his elbows on the old, old stone and looks out on a thing as vast and timeless as the universe itself.

His expression is suddenly very far away.

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

It doesn't take Amy long to join him, to rise over the wall and come to his side. There's something in his face that's hitting a place in her heart she doesn't want to feel, because there's pain there and the idea she might be causing it for him doesn't sit well in her lower stomach. But has he been keeping something from her?

And where did that thought come from?

If Amy's honest with herself, she's been wondering after it a little while now. There's something in the Doctor's face that is worrying at her subconscious, and while she can't place a finger on it, it's definitely there.

Her palm comes to rest against his shoulder, gentle.

"Look at me?"

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

He turns. "Hm?"

[timeforamy.livejournal.com]

"Did you think I'd leave with him?"

[goodwithtime.livejournal.com]

The Doctor's mind makes a frightening leap, skipping right over specifics and into a place where the mire is deep and his thoughts are less guarded. He thought she meant Rory. Did you think I'd leave with Rory? He swallows around several small stones. Would she leave? Maybe. Would she leave if she knew what she was missing? It twists the Doctor's stomach to speculate. He doesn't like that.

"Of course not." A pause while he grips the stone beneath his hands. "Would you have?"