how someone could have chosen, by alpacas
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het_reccersFandom Category: Doctor Who
Pairing: Amy Pond/Rory Williams
Fic Title: how someone could have chosen
Author: alpacas
Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/525532
Rating/Warning(s): G
Genre: post-episode
WIP?: no
Why This Must Be Read: Post-"Angels Take Manhattan." What happens to the Ponds. Wonderfully, gorgeously written. Read it!
Amy arrives in the past eight days before Rory, and they are the worst eight days of her life. She stalks the graveyard, checking and double-checking each stone. He's not there—so he's not dead. Yet. Already? What if he's in the room? What if she is still too late? She makes trips to Winter Quay but can't find it, mugs someone badly for money, lets him think she's a pro, takes his wallet and runs, sprints away, and goes back to the graveyard. She spends the first two days in as close to a blind panic as she's ever been, jumping at every noise and unable to think, unable to do the maths in her head, count back the years on the stone—but it didn't say the year he'd died, how could they have not put that on, who had not put that on (what if he dies today). She just gave up her life on a gamble, and she lost.
By day four, she's calmed down. Rory must not have arrived in the past yet, she decides (if he has and just has given up on stalking the graveyard—no, no, he wouldn't've done, not her Rory). She'll just wait for him until he arrives. A year or two, what's the fuss? She can wait for him. Great views of the New York skyline from here, prime-o real estate. He's started to get a bit self conscious about their age difference lately, a whole two years what a cradle robber, and a nice quiet Waiting will even that out. She calms herself and doesn't let herself pace. There's shops a short walk from the graveyard; she goes and buys herself a piece of cake with the last of her stolen money, asks about waitressing, shows some leg, and then spends fifteen minutes trying to convince Mrs Winters that no, women in Scotland really do wear trou—pants—all the time, it's perfectly acceptable there, really. She gets the job when she promises to buy a skirt, and walks back to the graveyard saying pants pants pants until it sounds American.
On the eighth day, she's making the rounds of her graveyard again, swallowing against her sore throat and visiting all her favourites and wondering how the hell Rory didn't get bored to death with the box, when there's a weird sound, or not sound, like the air pressure briefly changed, and her ears ring and he's just lying there when she turns, sits up slowly and rubs his head, and he looks confused and then he looks at her and she tears her new stockings when she runs, skids, tackles him before he can even stand. It's all arms and limbs and he's very confused and keeps trying to tell her how confused he is, but every time he tries to talk, Amy is unfortunately reminded that they are not kissing, and they should be, and he has no counter-argument to that.
Pairing: Amy Pond/Rory Williams
Fic Title: how someone could have chosen
Author: alpacas
Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/525532
Rating/Warning(s): G
Genre: post-episode
WIP?: no
Why This Must Be Read: Post-"Angels Take Manhattan." What happens to the Ponds. Wonderfully, gorgeously written. Read it!
Amy arrives in the past eight days before Rory, and they are the worst eight days of her life. She stalks the graveyard, checking and double-checking each stone. He's not there—so he's not dead. Yet. Already? What if he's in the room? What if she is still too late? She makes trips to Winter Quay but can't find it, mugs someone badly for money, lets him think she's a pro, takes his wallet and runs, sprints away, and goes back to the graveyard. She spends the first two days in as close to a blind panic as she's ever been, jumping at every noise and unable to think, unable to do the maths in her head, count back the years on the stone—but it didn't say the year he'd died, how could they have not put that on, who had not put that on (what if he dies today). She just gave up her life on a gamble, and she lost.
By day four, she's calmed down. Rory must not have arrived in the past yet, she decides (if he has and just has given up on stalking the graveyard—no, no, he wouldn't've done, not her Rory). She'll just wait for him until he arrives. A year or two, what's the fuss? She can wait for him. Great views of the New York skyline from here, prime-o real estate. He's started to get a bit self conscious about their age difference lately, a whole two years what a cradle robber, and a nice quiet Waiting will even that out. She calms herself and doesn't let herself pace. There's shops a short walk from the graveyard; she goes and buys herself a piece of cake with the last of her stolen money, asks about waitressing, shows some leg, and then spends fifteen minutes trying to convince Mrs Winters that no, women in Scotland really do wear trou—pants—all the time, it's perfectly acceptable there, really. She gets the job when she promises to buy a skirt, and walks back to the graveyard saying pants pants pants until it sounds American.
On the eighth day, she's making the rounds of her graveyard again, swallowing against her sore throat and visiting all her favourites and wondering how the hell Rory didn't get bored to death with the box, when there's a weird sound, or not sound, like the air pressure briefly changed, and her ears ring and he's just lying there when she turns, sits up slowly and rubs his head, and he looks confused and then he looks at her and she tears her new stockings when she runs, skids, tackles him before he can even stand. It's all arms and limbs and he's very confused and keeps trying to tell her how confused he is, but every time he tries to talk, Amy is unfortunately reminded that they are not kissing, and they should be, and he has no counter-argument to that.
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