The Arms of Amy

“Wow,” Amy says, wide eyed and open-mouthed. “That’s beautiful.”

Beside her, the Doctor smiles, swinging his legs carefully back and forth. “It’s a big ball of burning gas, Pond, and it’s about to explode.”

“It’s beautiful,” Amy repeats, eyebrow arched in challenge.

“Yes,” the Doctor says softly. “It is.”

The TARDIS is in orbit around a supernova. It’s huge and glowing and positively majestic and absolutely the most beautiful thing Amy has ever seen. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t be able to tear her eyes away from it.

There’s something almost poetic about it, about the way it’s burning up all its energy and dying a little bit more in the process. She knows it’s not dying, not really, can just about remember enough Physics lessons to know that when the star eventually explodes, the dust and gas will go on to form planets, maybe even another star, and the whole process will start over again.

But it feels like dying. To her, anyway.

“You okay, Amy?”

The Doctor’s voice brings her sharply out of her reverie and she turns to smile at him. “Yeah, I’m great. You?”

“Me, I’m fine, I’m always fine,” The Doctor replies, but it sounds automatic, robotic. He looks away quickly, gaze fixed on something she can’t see. She finds herself staring at his eyes, his ancient, haunted eyes, tinged with a terrible, unspeakable grief she can’t quite understand.

She leans into his side, head resting on his shoulder, says nothing. The Doctor’s nine hundred and seven years old; he’s got plenty to grieve over. It’s an awfully long time to live, growing older on the inside but never on the out, watching everything that matters to turn to dust.

Amy thinks she could do it, sometimes, thinks she could handle being a Time Lord just fine. After all, everything she cares about is right here, fit comfortably into this tiny blue police box that’s bigger on the inside. But sometimes... sometimes she’s not so sure.

“This is safe, right?” Amy says eventually, more out of a pressing urge to break the silence than any desire to know the answer. If it wasn’t safe, the Doctor wouldn’t have brought her here, she knows that.

“Oh yes, perfectly safe. The TARDIS is protecting us, throwing up an oxygen bubble and shielding us from the cosmic radiation,” The Doctor informs her, latching onto the question like a lifeline. “Thanks, dear.”

(The last part isn’t addressed to Amy, and she knows it. She stopped thinking it weird that the Doctor treated his TARDIS like a living, breathing creature when she realised that it kind of sort of was, in a way.)

“We probably shouldn’t linger too long, though,” the Doctor continues, head swaying in time with his legs. “Don’t want to get accidentally caught up in the explosion.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d mind, considering how much you like throwing yourself into life-or-death situations,” Amy says, a little incredulous.

“Think I’ve had enough of life-or-death situations for one day.” His voice is quiet, barely more than a whisper, and Amy wouldn’t think anything of it except... except it’s his eyes, betraying the old man in the young body, reflecting a million galaxies in their depths before he wipes them all away with a single blink. “Come along, Pond,” he says briskly, getting to his feet, “I know just where we should go next.”

Amy sticks a hand in the air, waiting for the Doctor to get a firm grip on her wrist before hauling herself up against him. He lets her hand drop almost instantly, making sure she’s safely inside the TARDIS before shutting the doors.

“Where?” Amy asks, affecting boredness as she watches him stride over to the console. “You still haven’t managed to get me to Rio yet, you know.”

She thinks she probably imagines the Doctor stiffening slightly when she mentions Rio, but that doesn’t stop her narrowing her eyes, suspicious.

“Forget Rio, I’ve got somewhere much better in mind,” he says without turning around, but Amy can hear the grin in his voice, and it makes something in her chest settle.

“Space Florida?” she suggests, biting back a smirk as she leans back against the hand rail.

“No, but that’s a very good idea,” the Doctor muses, bashing fervently at something on the console. “Maybe we should go there after...”

Amy’s mouth drops open a little. “Wait, there actually is a Space Florida? I was joking!”

“I wasn’t,” the Doctor says, grinning at her. “Oh, you’ll love it, there’s rollercoasters the size of Olympic stadiums, and-” He breaks off to smack a palm into his face, presumably harder than he intended because he winces. “Not. Getting. Sidetracked,” he mutters, shaking his head firmly. “We can do Space Florida another time. I was thinking of something more... culturally refined.”

Amy narrows her eyes, curious, but before she can say anything, the TARDIS gives a lurch and she nearly loses her balance as they hurtle into the vortex. She thinks, I will never, ever get used to this, and finds herself grinning.

When they land, the Doctor throws open the doors with a flourish. Outside is the Musée d'Orsay, and the grin on Amy’s face threatens to split it in two.