The sparks were everywhere but Amy didn’t care. She couldn’t bring herself to care, not yet, now now, not later, and probably never again.
(But she wasn’t fooling anyone but herself, she was terrified) (But there was nobody around to see that, so she barged on)
She could hear the Doctor screaming her name from a hundred feet down, through a hole he couldn’t fit through but she could. She couldn’t hear his sonic anymore, though she knew he was trying desperately to get it to work, but his voice was still loud and clear.
“Don’t do it Amy, it’s suicide, don’t do it!”
She looked down and blinked away tears, because no matter how often she claimed to be the invincible and fearless girl she so wanted to be (like the Doctor), not-so-deep down she was more like the seven year old child who first met him all those years ago.
So she continued to climb.
It’s suicide anyway, she told herself. It’s either you or all of them.
Rory, Amy thought.
She bit back a sob and hoisted herself up.
The rungs were rusty and hot underneath her blistered, sweaty hands, only getting warmer as she went higher. She forced herself to stop looking down and steeled herself for whatever came next.
A barrage of sparks fell from the top, parading down in a gorgeous downpour of fire. She ducked her head under her arm, and her jacket protected most of her from them, but one of them landed on her hair and she was suddenly on fire.
She yelped quite loudly and batted desperately to put it out. But then she slipped and was suddenly falling down faster than she could think.
She screamed, a raw sound that tore from her throat before she could realize it. The Doctor roared in sheer
fear anger terrorhopelessness as he watched her plummet. Amy locked eyes with him from two hundred feet up and saw that look in his eyes- the saddest look she had ever seen- the most terrified look- horrified- as she clawed desperately for a handhold.
Finally, she caught herself on a rung after what seemed like an eternity of falling. She scrambled for a solid grip, and once this had been achieved, she rested her head on the ladder for a moment before climbing back up.
“Amelia Pond!” The Doctor yelled, his voice fading with every foot higher she climbed. “Amy. Pond. Don’t do this! Please. Don’t. Do. This.”
She steeled herself against his voice. She could see the top now. She was almost there.
Her blood ran cold.
“Amy, please!” But she couldn’t go back now. She couldn’t let them all die. It was better her than them, the two most important people in her life. Rory and the Doctor.
She hoisted herself over the top of the ladder.
Poked her head over the edge. Two hundred feet down, the Doctor was there, looking more like her dolls than the man she had grown to love, (as a friend, after much thought. The bestest friend she’d ever had, ever would have).
She shouted, with everything she had left in her broken voice.
“What if you were really old, and really kind and alone? Your whole race dead, no future. What couldn’t you do then? If you were that old, and that kind, and the very last of your kind…. you couldn’t just stand there and watch children cry,” Amy paused. “Only this time, it’s not children, it’s you. And Rory.”
The Doctor stopped screaming and stared up at her. He remembered the first time she said that, he remembered, and he remembered knowing that he’d chosen right.
That memory came with a breath of relief, and those words did too.
But this was an entirely different story, and now it did nothing but make him cold and weak with panic. He couldn’t do anything, Amy Pond was going to die and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
His TARDIS was gone, Rory was off doing Rory-ish things, and Amy Pond was marching towards death, brave as ever, calm as a breeze.
And finally, finally, after years of travelling and over a decade of having known this wonderful, wonderful, girl, Amelia Pond had finally grown up in his ancient eyes. He understood her, and as much as he hated it with everything he had, hated it with all the years he’d been alive and all the memories he’d collected, he understood it. He accepted it, as much as he could, and he got it.
“Bye, bye, Pond,” He whispered, giving up. Dropped his sonic. Watched it roll away.
He knew Amy couldn’t hear him, but she seemed to understand.
And so Amy climbed on, out of sight.
She crept down a hallway, eyes and ears straining for any sign of the Daleks, ducking into shadows when she saw one and slowly making her way down the straight hallway.
It was a pretty simple design, this spaceship, generally only going in one direction until it took you down the next. Side tunnels for maintenance things, but otherwise straightforward. If she were looking for a main room, it would have been easy.
However, she wasn’t looking for a main room. She’d heard the Doctor interrogate a dying Dalek. 31B, it was. 31B.
If it existed, it would be there. It had to be there.
She peered down a hallway at precisely the wrong time, and a Dalek let loose a robotic scream. Amy yelped, which only drew more attention to herself, and the next thing she knew she was running for her life through a main room that had more Daleks than she bothered to acknowledge.
And then they were all shooting at her.
She ducked low and ran as fast as she could, out of the main control room and down, down, down an endless hallway.
21A, 21B, 22A, 22B, painted in large red paint. If she could still read it, than the TARDIS was still on board, somewhere, right? Or they had done it in English to trick her, and this whole thing was a scam to kill her, to get to the Doctor, to make her do exactly what she had done.
No, Amy thought. No, you have to keep going.
So she did. An army of Daleks shooting at her, miraculously missing her each time, but probably wouldn’t be for much longer.
At 28B a Dalek beam scraped her shoe, going straight through the leather and brushing against her skin.
She screamed and forced herself to keep going, despite the agony that had exploded on her foot. She was going to die anyway, what was a little pain?
She kept running, albeit a lot slower than before.
31A, the Daleks were gaining.
She’d lived through what so many people only told stories about, lived through dreams and hells and saved so many lives and ended so many more.
Amy couldn’t help but cry as she reached 31B, and another Dalek beam managed to scrape her abdomen. Every step was agony, every breath was hell, everything ached and she would never be healthy again.
It was only downhill from here.
Her eyes searched desperately, despairingly, for a lever, a button, anything that could end this all.
The Daleks were so close, so eager for her death she could feel the air buzzing with it.
She let loose a primal scream and marched forward as she spotted a lever two dozen feet away.
A beam hit her thigh.
She dragged herself forward the last couple feet and threw herself onto the lever.
A Dalek beam hit her back dead-on as the lever was pulled down.
Amy fell limp on the ground.
Rory was backed up against the wall, not wanting to cry but doing so anyway. A Dalek was right in front of him, and unless a miracle happened in the next few seconds he’d be dead again.
But then just that happened, a miracle, (not his death), and all the Daleks went still.
The Doctor saw them die, and he knew she had succeeded. Hope blossomed, but he didn’t dare let it grow.
He made his way throughout the Asylum, climbing stairs, looking for 31B. He weaved his way through countless Dalek shells as he walked. Hope and torment clawing at his insides.
Maybe she wasn’t dead. Maybe she was.
He didn’t want to know, because although Schrödinger was a terrible man, the Doctor was quite fond of his theory, (and his cat).
Eventually he found 31B. Slipped between his fallen enemies.
He fell to his knees at what he found.
“Oh Amelia,” the Doctor sighed sadly, his hands hovering above her, unsure at what to do. “Oh, Amy. Oh, Amy.”
He found Rory in the lower levels, looking around confusedly. He heard the Doctor come in, didn’t stop looking around at the empty carcasses.
Amy was light in the Doctor’s arms, limp and light, eyes unseeing, yet open. He couldn’t bring himself to say the truth, not even to himself. He wouldn’t set her down, he wouldn’t, he refused. Like a little child, he refused.
“Who killed all the Daleks?” Rory asked.
The Doctor had to swallow a lump in his throat before he replied. Rory finally brought his gaze towards the Doctor and his fallen friend. His face fell, and the Doctor’s heart shattered.
The Doctor spoke.
“Who do you think?
Posted on Thursday, 2 August
Reblogged from: danisnotofire
Posted by: danisnotofire
- loumauve likes this
- madderthanaboxoffrogs reblogged this from danisnotofire
- madderthanaboxoffrogs likes this
- hedgehoginajumper likes this
- musingsofzabet reblogged this from madderthanaboxoffrogs
- madderthanaboxoffrogs answered: Omg how does this not have more notes? THIS IS AMAZING!!! Your writing is INCREDIBLE!
- prongs--potter likes this
- theuntemperedschisms reblogged this from danisnotofire
- spectaclesandscars reblogged this from danisnotofire
- wasntadream likes this
- amelia-pond-get-your-goat likes this
- torymae likes this
- i-will-trade-all-my-tomorrows likes this
- i-will-trade-all-my-tomorrows answered: Now THAT is how you write a story based solely on a trailer, a promotional pic and a GIF. Bloody hell.
- roads-go-ever-ever-on reblogged this from danisnotofire
- museanddoctorwhowooh reblogged this from curtisisfamous
- healinghandsoflove likes this
- curtisisfamous reblogged this from danisnotofire and added:
- curtisisfamous likes this
- gabriels-moose likes this
- gandalfthesassy reblogged this from danisnotofire
- danisnotofire posted this