http://nurse-boy.livejournal.com/ (
nurse-boy.livejournal.com) wrote in
paradisalost2011-07-12 01:34 am
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Entry tags:
- 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))
[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))
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And that she'd already been taken from him.
Suddenly he wants to grab onto her and never let go again]
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In the present, Rory's face threatens to crumple again and he takes a deep breath, struggling to push the tears back down. He might be willing to physically lean on Amy at the moment, but he still feels incredibly isolated and alone. It doesn't help that he's already spent a lifetime keeping silent and internalizing his sorrows]
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I was so worried about you.
[the words just tumble out, whispered hoarsely over a hardening lump in his throat. He wants to take them back as soon as they're there, but he can't]
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It's--it's okay... I know.
[Jesus Christ, she feels inadequate as hell]
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He can't even express relief over getting her back from the Silence.
His inner turmoil outwardly manifests as him turning quiet and withdrawn again but not moving from Amy's side. His face is pinched with the effort of holding everything inside back, and he might be shaking a little. It's so very hard to allow himself to take what tiny comfort he can in Amy's presence--and it's not much, because of the awkwardness thick between them--instead of pushing her away and folding into himself]
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How are you feeling? Any better?
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She squeezes her arm about him gently]
Do you want more tea?
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Yeah ... yeah.
[and he sits up to reach over to his bedside table and get his mug]
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Amy, you don't ...
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Yeah, I do.
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When it's finished, she leaves one crutch against the counter, holding the mug in her free hand, and carefully starts levering her way back to the bed]
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But his face actually brightens a shade as he swallows, and looks back over at Amy in surprised]
You put some honey in.
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I thought it might... you know. Help. A little.
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This time his smile has a little more genuine warmth in it]
It did ... I mean, it does.
[and then he scoots back over toward her, until their elbows are just bumping]
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I wonder how long it will take for you to remember that you're allowed to feed yourself again.
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... He knows it won't]
A while, probably. Everything else, too, like ... sleeping. Having a shower.
[as if on cue, his stomach gurgles. He looks down at it and smiles slightly before looking back at Amy]
You won't let me starve, will you?
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Nah. You won't let you starve, either. And sleep won't be so bad. You'll settle down with me for the night and pass out before you know what hit you.
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[another sip of tea quiets his grumbling stomach--to be quite honest, he's not entirely sure he could hold down any food right now, the way he's feeling--and likewise, it's the smallest ray of sunshine peeking through the clouds. Just the thought of being able to lie next to Amy, close his eyes, and fall asleep with her cheers him up (relatively speaking) more than anything else has yet. And suddenly Rory wants nothing more than to do just that: pull Amy back against his chest, bury his face in the back of her neck, and fall asleep while thanking every deity and higher power there is that he's human again, and that he still has his wife healthy and whole beside him. That it's that way back home, too, that not everything is lost.
(He'll need to keep reminding himself of that one truth.)
He wants it so much it makes his (real!) heart physically pang; his entire body is radiating the longing he feels for it. But. Probably, Amy's not tired. So Rory concentrates on his tea, and tries not to let his mind get carried away with visions of being cocooned beneath the covers, warm and entwined with Amy, feeling her heart beat against his chest and her breath on his cheek, and knowing that she's *alive*]
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abusing the fuck out of this icon
well, it's appropriate
I need to make more :/
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