paradisalost | - thirty-seventh year waiting -

Entry tags:

rory williams

- thirty-seventh year waiting -

[dictated]

[alone on a bed in the medbay on Eleven's TARDIS, Rory Williams wakes up from a week-long sleep. He feels extremely disoriented and doesn't really remember collapsing in the castle lobby--there's so many new memories to process this time around, two thousand years' worth and then some--and he's got a pounding headache. But both of these are minor concerns when, upon regaining consciousness, the first thing he realizes is that he has a heartbeat. A pulse. And he's breathing. Not because he can, but because he has to. Which can only mean one thing:

He's gone home. And he's come back human again.

The realization hits him like a sucker punch to the chest and he makes to bolt upright into a sit, grabbing frantically at his right hand to check for the hinge--except his head throbs like it's been hit with a sledgehammer and a wave of nausea crashes over him. He sinks back onto his bed with a groan, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing in pain. Okay, maybe the headache's not such a minor concern after all.

Swallowing to wet his dry throat, he croaks out:]

Amy? ... Doctor? Wha ...?

((open like an open thing! Rory's back from a trip home and has been canon-bumped up through Series 6, Episode 7: A Good Man Goes To War. He's no longer an Auton (buh-bye plasticness and handy gun in his hand!) and brings with him a metric fuckton of new emotional baggage courtesy of the Doctor and River Song))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[the sound of her crutches hitting the floor is like a noise bomb going off inside his head; he cries out sharply, pressing his hand down harder on his forehead and rolling over, all but curling up into her]

[she is... not entirely sure what's going on, unless he's having problems getting used to having human senses again. Grimacing to herself, she curls over him in turn, resting her cheek on his upper arm and chancing rubbing her free hand in a slow circle over his back]

It's okay, it's okay... what do I do?

[she's right, in one way: he'd gotten so used to having slightly muted senses as an Auton that now that he's human again, it's like they've all been turned on full-blast. So in addition to trying to sort out all the new memories and experiences he's got, he's suffering from minor sensory overload. He curls even more into himself, fumbling to grasp at her, heedless of the fact that he looks extremely weak and needy]

Urgh ... my head ... is killing me ...

[Amy doesn't care what it makes him look like, as long as she's got him back]

Here, just--stay still, keep your eyes closed... I can get you some painkillers?

[he doesn't want to let her go, or let her out of his sight now. Not even for a second. He has the sudden irrational fear that she'll dissolve or disappear or be replaced again. No never mind that he needs painkillers to begin with. For actual pain. It's all too much to handle.

He complies, keeping his eyes closed, but doesn't move away from her]

... Non-drowsy?

[because he doesn't want to slip back into unconsciousness either]

Of course.

[she squeezes her arm about him, very carefully, then gently pulls away and--crap, picking her crutches back up is going to suck. It's awkward going, but she manages to lever herself down to get them and then straighten back up. Then she hobbles over to the medicine cabinets to search through them, making sure she picks out a non-drowsy variety of painkiller. She brings the bottle over to Rory's bed before going to get a cup of water, which takes her a while to get back with without sloshing the water over the rim]

Here, hold your hand out...

[she presses the cup into his hand, then opens the bottle and shakes out a couple pills]

[just like he feared, Rory has to swallow down a sharp wave of panic and a cry of "don't!" when Amy moves away. It's followed just as quickly by a wave of shame--because he hadn't been so clingy and paranoid at Demon's Run, but he'd also been running on pure adrenaline and desperation by then. He doesn't know if he would have been this way there once things--quieted down.

When she come back he complies, holding his hand out--and peeks out from underneath his hand, squinting, to see her. When he sees she's still on her crutches--how could he not have put two and two together?!--dismay gets thrown in with the panic and shame and he struggles to sit up, heedless of the pounding in his head]

Oh, Amy, I'm--I didn't realize--

[Amy somehow manages to readjust her center of gravity so she can prod him back down with her free hand. She keeps her voice down]

Stay still, dummy...

[he subsides--a little--but stays sitting up so he can drink his water without slopping it everywhere. Looking guilty, he points out the obvious]

You're still on crutches.

So what?

[she hands him the pills and puts the cap back on the bottle, then tosses it inelegantly onto her chair]

[he just looks at her as he knocks back his medicine--ow, it feels like his brain is bouncing off the inside of his skull--and is about to automatically take a swig of water to chase them down when he stops with his glass halfway to his mouth. Then he blinks and looks at it like he's confused. It's several seconds before he finishes raising the glass to his lips--and instead of the chug it was going to be, it's a polite sip.

He might as well be holding up a giant blinking neon sign that says HOLY SHIT I JUST SWALLOWED SOMETHING]

[she looks back at him in slight confusion for a moment before comprehension sets in, and a curious mix of happiness and sadness flickers across her face]

When you're feeling up to it... I'm taking you to Caritas and buying you as many pints as you can keep down.

[he nods silently, still looking at his glass. Getting smashed sounds brilliant right about now. Now that he can get royally pissed again he wants to, really really wants to, because maybe that will make him forget the more recent events of his past. It's definitely not the responsible thing to do and it won't fix a damn thing, but ... it might hold off on the inevitable. How can he tell Amy about any of it? Oh, god, learning she was a replacement and pregnant with a baby they could never have here was bad enough. This ... this will destroy her. (It's destroying him.)

Better to stick to safe topics then, like his newly-regained humanity. Yeah. That should work]

--I held her.

[he blurts it, suddenly, without thinking or looking up from his glass. God fucking DAMMIT]

[her eyebrows knit together, and she frowns]

What?

[still staring squarely at his glass--almost as if he's in shock, or afraid to look at her]

Our baby. I held our baby.

[for an awful, choking moment Amy thinks her heart has thudded to a halt in her chest--he WHAT? But then it starts beating again, and she realizes she's gripping the edge of his bed, and she tentatively begins to hope that everything turned out alright after all]

You--you found me? You and the Doctor?

[he's very visibly struggling to keep his emotions in check now--he's swallowing a lot, breathing a little hard, and his chin is trembling slightly. His grip on his water glass is tight, and his eyes are practically fused to it now. After a few more silent, thick swallows, he nods.

(He doesn't want to speak, much. If he does the floodgates will open and he'll spill everything and cry the way his heart--his real, beating heart!--is currently howling, and utterly destroy her. He can't--doesn't want to be--responsible for that]

[when he doesn't say anything, or even look at her, that's when the dread starts creeping in. Something's wrong. He'd be happier than this, if everything turned out alright. Scenarios start zooming around her head--what if she somehow dies in childbirth? What if she lives but the baby dies shortly after birth? What if they BOTH die? God only knows what's being done to her, wherever she's being held; maybe she and the baby are being experimented on, and it ends up killing them. But Rory said they find her--him and the Doctor. Surely it doesn't take them nine entire months to realize something's wrong?]

Rory...

I held her--she was beautiful--

[now he's audibly struggling too. His voice is choked and thick with barely contained emotion: happiness and joy and wonder and beneath that, probably confirming some of her fears--heartbroken. He finally sets aside his water glass and looks up at her; his eyes have the faintest red-rimmed touch to them. It jars with the weak smile crooking his lips]

You had a baby girl.

[her knuckles have gone white, she's gripping the edge of the bed so tightly]

Rory, tell me.

Edited 2011-07-13 09:16 (UTC)

[his face nearly crumples--he knows that SHE knows there's something wrong, but still he doesn't want to give into the grief rising up to swallow him. Because Amy might not be so lucky, and who will be strong for her then? This is so much worse than before, when they shared their pain and weakness.

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out--and then his jaw works, like he can't decide what to say. What she wants to hear, how much he'll even tell. He wants to keep the worst of it from her but already knows she won't allow it.

Where does he even start? The beginning, when they discovered she'd been taken? Or the end, with the gut-wrenching devastation?]

[all Amy can do is wait for him to say something; she's scared, properly scared now, even more so than when River refused to tell her anything before]

[oh fuck, here it comes--the boulder lodged in his throat becomes too much to bear, and he looks aside as guilt and shame barrel full-force into his chest. He's not going to cry--not going to cry--]

I'm sorry--I'm so sorry--[his face is utterly stricken]--I tried, I thought I had her ...

[oh god stop talking, just stop]

But she wasn't ... they ...

[her knuckles are a threat to crack and snap from the pressure]

Rory, what are you saying.

[there's nothing else for it now, is there. He's going to hate himself for a long time over this. Swiping a hand over his eyes, he sniffs and looks back up at her. It's going to be hell to look into her eyes and say this, but it needs to be done this way, with the eye contact]

You'd--already given birth by the time we found you. They ... they were taking Melody away, trying to escape, but I, um--I stopped them. Got her back. And then ... brought her back to you. [the more he speaks, the more he's slowly falling apart, getting more and more emotional] I thought everything was fine and we were safe and I--I had my girls ...

[his voice cracks and he tries to smile at her then, because 'my girls' is a rib off of her 'my boys', but his smile cracks too]

But they .... oh, god.

[he has to stop and look away, squeezing his eyes shut because tears are pricking at them. After a moment he takes a deep breath and shakes his head. He's a coward after all--he can't look at her for this, terrified he'll see anger and blame in her eyes]

They did the same thing to her that they did to you. They replaced her. It ... it was never her I held at all. [fuck, he's losing it. His face is red and blotchy from keeping the tears back but that isn't going to last for too much longer] And they--she--oh god! ... it was too late. They took her.

Edited 2011-07-13 15:38 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

holy fuck long tag