Fight or Flight ( Doctor Who Fanfiction )

Excerpt from a Train Car

I walked into the dining car looking for Amy, only to find the Doctor sitting at a table, fiddling with a fork and staring thoughtfully at a flan.

The air immediately crackled around me.

I shook my head to scatter the sparks, and went to sit across from him.

He smiled across the table at me.

"Where's Amy?"

"She's with her husband."

I nodded. This made sense.

(Why did this make sense?)

I looked down at the flan between us. "It's not like you to leave something sweet alone."

He glanced up at me with a slight scowl of concentration. "It's not like you, either."

I raised my eyebrows and reached across the table. He let me pluck the fork from his hand without resistance, the intensity in his eyes scorching me. His hand slowly found another fork, but he didn't lift it off the tablecloth.

I paused, sharp prongs hovering a millimeter over the dessert.

"Are you all right, Omara?"

"Of course not."

(Why wasn't I?)

"Now you understand why I was letting it be."

My lips moved without my consent: "Yes."

(No, I didn't.)

Our eyes met, and I nearly fell into that soft gaze, the pale green hands that wound around my throat and pulled.

In one quick movement, I'd stabbed through the flan, and the clank of the fork against the plate made us both look down.

Instead of a pale yellow inside, the pudding oozed red, a gentle flow of blood that pooled around the bite I'd carved out.

I dropped the fork on the plate and stood.

My eyes welled with tears.

What have you done, Omara?

"It's OK," he said.

I managed to shake my head.

Tears dripping on my cheeks.

"It's OK," he said again, unfazed. "It wasn't your fault. Come here."

And I wanted to. I wanted to go to him.

I stumbled and grabbed ahold of the nearest chairback before I could fall.

"I have to..." I looked around frantically, tears rolling from my eyes despite how I tried to press them back. "I shouldn't have... I have to... find..."

"It's OK, Omara," he soothed, "She's gone."

And I was awake.

Eyes flying wide open, heart beating fast, whole body jittering.

"Mars?"

Amy was on her side, cuddling closer to me and hooking one of her legs over both of mine.

She pushed herself up to an elbow and combed my hair back with her fingers. "You were crying. I thought you were hurt."

"I'm fine, love. It was a dream."

"I know," she sighed. "I've been having them, too. None that bad, though."

Of course not. She had nothing to feel guilty for.

"Go back to sleep," I said gently. "I'm fine, really. I'm sorry for waking you."

"I'd rather you wake me." She ran her thumb along my cheek clumsily and shifted over to lay on top of me. "I'm glad you have someone to wake."

She cozied her nose into the crook of my neck and hummed, peppering me with kisses and completely banishing every remaining scrap of despair.

I threaded the fingers of one hand into her hair, massaging her scalp lightly and waiting for her to settle down and doze off against me.

Instead, she lifted herself onto elbows and pressed kisses down to the base of my throat.

I moaned softly. "Stop that."

"Why?"

I glanced at the clock. "It's three in the morning. We should go back to sleep."

"Says who. Maybe I don't want to."

"Amelia," I huffed, my voice just north of a hazy growl. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"Shut up," she murmured unceremoniously. When I tried to pry her away, she seized both my hands and kissed them fervently from fingertip to wrist.

"Ames," I repeated, softer as she let go of my hands and made her way below my waist. "Sleep."

"Shut up," she groaned again, kissing a line from one hip bone to the other. "Stop feeling guilty. I want to be awake. Say no again, and I'll stop."

I leaned my head back, covering my eyes briefly with a forearm as she waited for my decision. I hated myself as I said it: "Go on, then."

"That's what I thought." I could feel her smirk against my thigh, and she gently bit the flesh she found there, running a hand up the hard plane of my stomach, searching for something to hold.

 I hissed, glaring half-heartedly down at her. "Behave. Jesus Christ."

I could feel that devilish smile on my leg. Her hand found mine, drawing it down to weave into her hair.

"Never."