Surface Tension ('Vast' entry)
Jan. 31st, 2015 08:52 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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who_contestTitle: Surface Tension
Rating: PG
Genre: Drabble/Missing scene
Word Count: 300
Pairings/Characters: Eleventh Doctor, Amy. Implied Amy/Rory
Warnings: Set between Cold Blood and Vincent and the Doctor, so spoilers for those episodes.
Summary: Amy grieves for a man who never was. The Doctor tries to fix it.
After Rio he sets co-ordinates for Arcadia, but his fingers must have been shaking. Beyond the TARDIS doors the ice stretches out unbroken until it meets the horizon, reflecting the night sky back with such clarity that to step off the threshold would be to tread upon whole solar systems.
“Ah. This'll be Wide, then. No, really, that’s what they call it. Lovely people, the Arcadians, but not that clever with names. Don’t worry; the city’s only a quick hop to the left, and then-“
His voice sounds thin and strangely distant in the winter silence, but he presses on. Amy just stares, one hand clutching the doorframe. “How wide?”
“Pick a word between vast and, and yowzah. Every year this lake freezes over and they have sledge races to the other side. ‘Cept if you don’t move fast enough it’s spring by the time you get there and you’re doing breaststroke the rest of the way.”
“Well, come on then. Race you.” The tug at his elbow unbalances him and he almost topples, catching at the air to steady himself. Friction here is less than it would be on Earth and the stars reel above and beneath their feet for a long, weightless moment, as though the whole planet has shrugged them off. Then time snaps back and they hit the surface, Amy’s hair in her eyes and their arms still locked together. Her winded, vital laughter stops the breath in his own throat. “You okay?”
“Never do that again,” he says, once he can speak. Their faces are almost touching and he searches hers for loss, that tiny flickering current beneath the ice. He hates the hope that sparks when he finds it.
In the Trojan Gardens it is high summer, and he is cold under the sun.
Rating: PG
Genre: Drabble/Missing scene
Word Count: 300
Pairings/Characters: Eleventh Doctor, Amy. Implied Amy/Rory
Warnings: Set between Cold Blood and Vincent and the Doctor, so spoilers for those episodes.
Summary: Amy grieves for a man who never was. The Doctor tries to fix it.
After Rio he sets co-ordinates for Arcadia, but his fingers must have been shaking. Beyond the TARDIS doors the ice stretches out unbroken until it meets the horizon, reflecting the night sky back with such clarity that to step off the threshold would be to tread upon whole solar systems.
“Ah. This'll be Wide, then. No, really, that’s what they call it. Lovely people, the Arcadians, but not that clever with names. Don’t worry; the city’s only a quick hop to the left, and then-“
His voice sounds thin and strangely distant in the winter silence, but he presses on. Amy just stares, one hand clutching the doorframe. “How wide?”
“Pick a word between vast and, and yowzah. Every year this lake freezes over and they have sledge races to the other side. ‘Cept if you don’t move fast enough it’s spring by the time you get there and you’re doing breaststroke the rest of the way.”
“Well, come on then. Race you.” The tug at his elbow unbalances him and he almost topples, catching at the air to steady himself. Friction here is less than it would be on Earth and the stars reel above and beneath their feet for a long, weightless moment, as though the whole planet has shrugged them off. Then time snaps back and they hit the surface, Amy’s hair in her eyes and their arms still locked together. Her winded, vital laughter stops the breath in his own throat. “You okay?”
“Never do that again,” he says, once he can speak. Their faces are almost touching and he searches hers for loss, that tiny flickering current beneath the ice. He hates the hope that sparks when he finds it.
In the Trojan Gardens it is high summer, and he is cold under the sun.
