WHO: eleven & amy pond WHERE: the sleepy hollow WHEN: afternoon, 15 june WHAT: the best reunion in recorded history thank you very much WARNINGS: he is definitely a mad man with(out) a box
Nothing had been easy since she woke up in Marrowood. It was a lesson that was still being hard-learned by Amy, and it wasn’t getting any easier as time dragged on and she was still utterly, completely alone.
Alright, maybe that was being dramatic. There were other people here, yes. There were plenty of other people here, but none of them were her people. None of them were Rory Williams, none of them were Melody Pond, and while one of them was the Doctor, he was also not the Doctor. He was not her best friend, whom she unapologetically believed was by and large the best Doctor to ever exist. If she was being fair, then she might have admitted that he was also the only Doctor she truly knew.
But Amy was not a fair woman in the slightest manner, hard as she tried. She tried hard not to fall back on the desperation of everything, on mourning the loss of her entire life. Time was a funny thing that way-- it brutally and cruelly dragged her against her will through the seconds and minutes and hours that had, at some point, turned into days and weeks.
Luckily, while the moments of despair certainly did overwhelm her from time to time, Amy was not the sort to dwell on it entirely too long. She forced herself away from the confines of her room at the hotel to explore, and this behaviour intensified after the night of restlessness that plagued her and gave her horrible dreams.
To say she shut herself off from the strangers in Marrowood that shared her situation was an understatement. Amy was not a shy woman, nor was she the kind of person who necessarily enjoyed closing herself off, but the fact was that if she didn’t focus her efforts toward at least trying to figure out what Marrowood even was, she would go mad. As far as looking for work went, well...she knew it was the hottest topic being thrown around on the network, as if they hadn’t all just experienced horrific nightmares and demonic possessions, but it frankly didn’t strike as much urgency in Amy as it perhaps should have.
So she spent an awful amount of time in the library sometimes, occasionally prodding one of the librarians for any answers she might have had-- although Amy rarely received anything from the girl that didn’t involve science babble and talk of multiverse theories that really was all better suited for the Doctor’s ears than her own. The books there ultimately proved to be little help for her, and after several hours of wandering up and down the aisles, she eventually gave in and returned to the Sleepy Hollow.
She’d been making her way back to the room she’d woken up in when a familiar sound made her freeze on the spot. Her whole body tensed as suddenly all her senses were focused in on that one sound...that pitchy, electronic buzzing that got higher and higher...the sound of a man’s frustrated voice scolding the presence of wood...the impatient shuffling of feet.
Slowly, Amy forced herself forward, her body moving in autopilot toward the source of the noise. As the figure, bent slightly over in front of a door, came into view, Amy’s emotions immediately began to bubble up to the surface. The tweed jacket, the dark tuft of hair, the old man trousers...there was no mistake.
“Doctor? Is that...is that you?” she said, her voice far meeker than it had been in a long, long time. Her eyes stung and she could feel tears welling up, though she did her best to hold them back.
This could have been a trick-- could have been a ghost or a projection to fool her. But the thought was lost, drown out by the overwhelming hopefulness that made her breathing a laboured effort and her heart begin to rise. There was no stopping that hope, no matter how much she tried. Even if it was a trick of some kind, it would have been welcomed along with whatever trap it hid, if only for the briefest glimpse of that stupid bowtie one more time.