Dead of Winter - James Goss [47]
‘Um…’ The Doctor looked like he’d happily answer any other question. ‘No sign of it yet. I think it’s shifted in time as well.’
‘So it’s of no help to us?’
‘Not really – but it can’t have gone far.’ He held up – he actually held up – two thumbs, as though this was good news. ‘The translation circuits are still working, which means you haven’t had to learn French in a hurry. And I haven’t had to learn English. That’s something.’
‘Wait… what?’
You know those toddlers you see being dragged around supermarkets constantly asking ‘Why are oranges orange?’ and ‘Can I have a biscuit?’ while their parents try and get on with shopping… Sometimes, just sometimes, I wonder if that’s how the Doctor sees me. This was one of those moments. There am I yelling ‘Save Rory! We’re trapped in time!’ And the Doctor’s trying to read the expiry date on a packet of digestives.
‘That’s really not important right now.’ He seemed to have read my mood. ‘Thing is, either the TARDIS is about to turn up, or The Familiar have got it.’
‘So anyway, big picture – no drugs from the TARDIS. The best hope for Rory is Dr Bloom.’
The Doctor looked a little more nervous. ‘You see, sometimes, you know when someone tells you something that you’re not actually, at surface value, going to necessarily like, but, if you just think about it… well…’
I felt cold and scared. ‘He’s not on the beach, is he?’
The Doctor nodded glumly. ‘I think he might be.’
I shoved him in the shoulder. ‘Are you mad? Let’s go and rescue him!’ Sometimes he needs a bit of a push, bless him.
‘No.’
‘What?’ My stomach lurched. Not my Rory. The Doctor just didn’t get it. Rory is too important.
He tried to explain. ‘If he is out there, then the very last place we can go is near him. We’re too late. They’re reading him.’
‘We’ve been on the beach loads.’
‘But I was shielding you every time.’ The Doctor had adopted his ‘being reasonable’ tone. It was infuriating. ‘Amy, if they’ve started reading him, I can’t stop it.’
‘What are they going to do to him? How can he help them?’ I swallowed, desperately. ‘He’s just Rory.’
The Doctor’s hand stroked my chin. ‘There is no Just about Rory, Pond. Not any more. He’s full of space and time and the universe. He’s knows about you, about me, about the TARDIS. Think of everything he can tell them.’
I did.
I broke away from the Doctor, running towards the door. I had to get down to the beach. I had to rescue my husband. Now.
The Doctor grabbed my hair. For a moment I was pedalling like some cartoon character. Then I was howling in pain.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
I started hitting him, shouting and screaming at him. And he just carried on holding me. A tiny bit of my brain registered that down the corridor Miss Elquitine was playing her violin, that a storm was coming, that the carpet really needed sweeping. But mostly I was just furious with the Doctor.
He leaned forward, touching his forehead to mine. ‘Think about it,’ he said, his voice ever so gentle. ‘Think about everything you know. Everything I know… and then about what Rory knows.’
I gulped. Really, awfully, terribly, I had a sudden attack of hiccups. I was staring at the Doctor, murderously angry with him. And hiccupping.
‘He doesn’t know as much as you, or me!’ I shouted in between gasps. ‘That’s it. I’m going down there. I’m offering myself to them instead. If you’re too much of a coward.’
The Doctor winced at that last word.
I hiccupped again.
‘Amy Pond,’ he said. ‘Try holding your breath.’
‘I will not hold my breath! This is important! Rory is having his mind vacuumed and we’re just standing here—’
‘Hiccupping.’
‘Yes.’
We stood, glaring at each other. I hiccupped again.
‘Seriously,’ said the Doctor, patiently. ‘I know it’s not the best time, but really, try holding your breath.’
I stood there. Hiccupping and scowling at him.
‘Rory knows plenty… but not enough. He’s like a tasty little snack. He’ll get them all excited about me, which should, just should, stop them doing anything bad to him.’
‘Hiccup.’ I stared at him.
‘He’ll be fine, seriously.’ The Doctor