sixthiterationlogs | strike me down

Entry tags:

strike me down

WHO: Amy Pond
WHERE: Outside the Mill
WHEN: February 13th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Temporary confusion due to lightning & unconsciousness
STATUS: Open

"Doctor?"

Something's happened to her, something that hurts and is making everything fuzzy. Amy stares up at the sky from where she's lying on the ground, not sure why it feels like she's coming around from a nap, her body covered in dirt except for her right arm, which has a strange pattern by the shoulder, like little tree limbs stretching out from her neck down her arm. It hurts to move, but the worst is that everything is fuzzy.

"Rory?" she ekes out, trying to sit up as she stares around her, panic beginning to well. She's not entirely sure what's going on, but she's not in her clothes, her ring is missing, and she's not sure how she got these marks on her arms. For a brief moment of panic, Amy's hands fly down to her midsection and she wonders if they've got her at Demon's Run, still, if all that time in between was just some sort of dream...

"Rory!" she shouts, a little louder, more panicked. "Doctor, where are you?" Her head is splitting and she's covered in dirt on the ground in what looks like an old little village? She knows it, though, why does she know it? Rubbing a hand to the side of her head, Amy tries to sit up, but she keeps her eyes closed because everything aches so badly.

Did she get knocked out? Why does she remember a bright flash and then nothing?

Wait. Did she get struck by lightning? Does that actually happen to people? Amy manages to get to her feet, stubbornly trying to keep her balance, but she's still a bit dizzy and ends up stumbling towards the nearest building, pressing a hand to it and rubbing at the mark on her neck, grimacing at how bad it looks as she wonders if this'll be permanent. Right, she decides, she's clearly got something wrong with her, which means she needs some medical help and maybe something strong to drink.

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Moana was doing the exact opposite of what she should be doing. She'd been told to stay in bed to heal from the strike, however she'd quickly become restless. She was collecting more reeds when she heard the woman shout. It wasn't someone she knew and while she had a scar much like Amy's it was covered by her jacket. No one had to know that she had been hit too.

Her steps were slow as she walked towards Amy, she didn't want to scare the girl. "Um... are you okay? I can show you to the inn but Rory lives at the house over there. He might still be at the hospital cleaning it up." That was what he had been doing lately.

Amy's not seeing double and she can hear properly, so that's good, but what's not so good is that her brain is a touch fuzzy. Rory being at the hospital isn't right, he should be in the TARDIS with her and the Doctor, but where is it? Shaking her head, she reminds herself that she's not there anymore and she's here. "I'm feeling a little ... off," she confesses, trying to find the right word. "Buzzy? Struck," she decides, because it's the most apt.

"My head hurts," she complains, one eye squinted shut as she presses the heel of her hand to her temple.

Moana stepped forward, rising to her toes to carefully steady Amy. Her hand rests on the woman's shoulder, offering a little bit of warmth from her palm. "Let's find a place inside to sit." The only place Moana really knew was the Inn.

"If you aren't feeling well you should rest." She paused chewing on the inside of her cheek. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Amy tries to get back through her memories and pick out the one thing that actually feels real. "I was here," is what she says, gesturing to the path with her hand. "And I was walking along, trying to find out where Rory had gone, I think? Then all of a sudden, I was on the ground waking up, and I was looking for the Doctor," she admits, swallowing past her dry throat.

"He's not here, is he?" she asks, voice cloudy with disappointment.

Moana moved and lightly placed her palms on the girls shoulders. She looked Amy over with a worried stare, trying to determine if there was anything glaringly wrong. What she was saying didn't make a lot of sense but that was becoming the norm for Moana.

With a nod of her head she softly urged Amy in the direction of the inn. She'd off her own bed if it meant that Amy would rest for a few moments. It sounded like she needed it. "We can keep talking but you should sit down. I don't know this Doctor..." Not having a lot of familiarity with doctors meant that Moana took the Doctor as being someones name.

Once she got Amy to sit she'd see if she can find Rory. He'd know what to do...

Amy presses the heel of her hand to her temple, like she can rub and press until some sort of information comes back to her. Honestly, headaches and physical ones and memory loss shouldn't be so frequently present in her life, but she's unfortunately in the wrong line of work for that. She follows along after the girl, still feeling wary. "Who're you, then?" she asks, trying to focus on the here and now.

Rory can get her all properly checked out later, run whatever memory tests he might want to on her.

Moana grinned. "Did I not say? I'm Moana." She should have probably said that earlier. "I'm a friend of Rory's. I know where he is too so I can get him." She had a feeling that it was the right thing to do. Rory was a healer after all.

"I just want to get you somewhere warm first." Also somewhere seated. Moana didn't want her falling over or anything.

Maybe she has said, maybe Amy's memory is playing tricks on her again, maybe she's just completely out of it. Her memory's been like a sieve before, but she always comes back around to remembering, eventually, it just sometimes takes a little bit more time.

"We should get Rory, he's good with the doctoring things, yeah? Being all nursey, doctory," Amy says, still a bit of out of it, she supposes.

Moana nodded her head. "Yeah. Do you want me to go get him? You have to promise to wait here." She'd be faster on her own and while she might trip once or twice she felt like this was an urgent matter.

"I'll be back with him. Promise." Assuming she didn't hurt herself along the way. At the very least, Rory will coming.

Amy does want him, but at the same time, she's sort of worried that the girl is going to bolt away from her and something's going to happen to her. "Not yet," she says. "Maybe not until my head stops ringing," she amends, thinking maybe Moana can find someone else to fetch Rory or look after her, but there's a ninny of a practical voice braying in her head about not doing anything rash.

"Okay." Moana didn't want to question it. She settled in to wait for Amy to feel well enough to move. When she was she'd guide her to the inn or to Rory's house and then she'd go try and find him.

Right now, she didn't feel right leaving her alone. "Do you want to keep talking?" She could offer a distraction.

Amy's head is pounding, but she's a little worried about falling asleep with things so muddled. Her memory is usually so good, but her life is a confusing thing filled with complex timelines, alternate universes, and might-have-beens. "Can you tell me about you?" she suggests. "I need to stay awake, I need to stay awake until things sort of settle down."

She needs to make sure that things are right in her head. Otherwise, she worries about something being off and not clicking back into place. "Keep me awake, and all."

Moana nodded her head. "What do you want to know? Um..." She made a face as she spoke. "I'm from an island called Motunui. My father is the village chief. It's a very small island but it's always warm." She decided to just start talking and see if that helped. "We get everything we need from the island. There are coconut trees and we fish in the reef. There are also a lot of fruit, chickens and pigs. I have two pets. Heihei is a chicken." Not the smartest chicken but Moana loved her anyway. "Pau is a pig."

She didn't know why Amy wanted or needed to stay awake and after a bit she thought it was worth asking. "Why are you scared to fall asleep?" Moana had fallen asleep after she'd gotten hit but that had been after Jyn got her to safety.

Amy lets it all wash over her, trying to pretend that she can be whisked away in the TARDIS to go visit the island instead of just sitting here hearing about it, but at least she's not having to hear about some sad little town in England. "I don't want to fall asleep and lose track of things in my head," she admits, breathing in and out slowly. "My life is...complicated," she says, which is possibly the biggest understatement of her lifetime.

"If I go to sleep and it all gets jumbled up, I don't want to lose anything. It's happened before, I can't do that again." Especially not when Rory is the only thing keeping her sane here.

Moana's life walk relatively simple but she could understand conflicts and complications. There was always things about life that made it complicated or difficult. It was moments like this that Moana wondered what her grandmother might say. She always had the best advice.

"It's happened before?" Her brows furrowed as Moana's concern rose. "What happened? Or do you want me to keep talking about my island?"

"Me and memories have a bit of a rocky history," is Amy's wry explanation, which is the easiest way to explain it without going into details about how a crack in her wall starting feeding off her life and robbing Amy of the people in it, until she couldn't even remember that they existed. Gone, just gone. She doesn't want to lose any of that, not again.

"Keep me up," she insists firmly. "Tell me whatever you can."

Moana's expression softened when she realized what she wanted to tell Amy.

"I'll tell you my favorite legend. It's is about the goddess Te Fiti. She was able to grant life to the islands of the world. Her heart was stolen by the demigod Maui. Who was known as a shape shift, master of earth and sky, and also very devious. As Maui made his escape, he was attacked by the lava demon Te Kā, causing the heart to become lost in the ocean. No one has seen Maui or the heart since." She looked up at the sky as she continued, her voice distant as if falling into a memory. "My grandmother told me that when the heart was stolen, darkness began to cover the world. One by one the darkness stole the life from the surrounding islands. She would tell me that the darkness would continue to spread. She said that someone will find the heart of Te Fiti, find Maui and make him return what he'd stolen."

Moana looked over at Amy. "That person would be chosen by the ocean and they'd sail across the world to put it back in its place." Talking about the ocean always made Moana sound a little dreamy.

"Sounds like a bit of a hassle," she grumbles, but she knows that she's gone to further lengths for lesser things, especially if her family is involved. She'd watched Rory go to the ends of the universe for her and she knows that she'd do the same. Again and again, she would do the same. "How d'you find a lost heart?" she asks, treating it not as a silly story, but as an actual real life thing. She's seen much stranger, honestly, and a lost heart because of a demon seems fairly mild in comparison.

Moana shrugged in reply to Amy's comment. She'd do it if it means saving her family but as far as she knew, it was only a legend. Something that has been passed down for over a thousand years.

"I didn't. No one has. It's just a legend passed down through my people." Moana had yet to find anything indicating that it was real. "I used to dream that the water was my friend and it'd play with me when I was little." But that had only been a dream... right?

"Legends usually mean that once, it used to be a story," she feels compelled to point out, because she's been able to see so many legends over her lifetime with the Doctor and Rory, all those stories and things that just shouldn't have existed, only they did, and she got to see it. "Just because no one's managed to see it yet doesn't mean you won't."

She closes her eyes, head pounding. "What if it wasn't all a dream?"

"I know." She rolled her shoulders a bit. "My grandmother believes." Moana was inclined to believe her grandmother, despite the fact that the people called her the village crazy lady. She respected her grandmother and knew that the older woman was very wise.

"I don't know. How would you check?"

"If it were me, I'd get my boys, I'd get my ship, and we'd go off searching after clues to see if there's any sort of truth in it. If there is, you get to find something that no one's ever found before," Amy raves, "and if not, you still get a pretty good adventure. Usually, when it's disappointing, we go for chips after, or have fish fingers and custard," she shares with a fond grin, thinking of their little routines ingrained in her life from such a young age.

"It's a little more complicated than that." Moana frowned a bit. "I want to go. I want to see what's beyond the reef." There was passion and desire that seeped into Moana's voice. It was a feeling that Amy has probably experienced herself.

"I'd disappoint my father if I left... we all have our roles on my island. Everyone is looking to me."

See, that's where it's different for Amy. Amy, who never even had parents for most of her life thanks to a memory and person sucking light from a crack in her bedroom wall. By the time she got her parents back, there wasn't really a deep emotional connection. She loved them, of course, and all, but it's hard getting past that. In some ways, she'd always felt closer to Rory's family, because as far as she knew, they'd always been around.

"What if you asked him?" Amy points out. "Sort of a temporary reprieve?"

Moana shrugged, her expression falling into a familiar frustrated scowl. "Do you think I haven't tried. He won't listen to anything I say." She began to pace in front of Amy, her arms moving at her sides as she spoke. "But no, it's always for the village and be happy where you are. I get it. People are depending on me but I don't see what's wrong with going out to sea. We have no fish! They're somehow no fish inside the reef. I didn't saw I want to go out there to be on the ocean."

She paused, realizing that she was ranting like she had with her mother. She remembered what she had said, that her father understood her and knew the dangers of the ocean but Moana couldn't see it that way.

"Nothing I do will get through to him."

"See, that's when I stop listening," Amy says, sitting herself up just a little so that she can offer her sage advice, not that she's ever been a well-adjusted person, as the psychiatrists in her life can attest to. "If someone pushes and tells me I can't do something, it's a guarantee that I'm just going to fight a lot harder to get to do it," she promises, and even though she understands that Moana has different responsibilities than her, it's not something that she thinks should be let go, either.

"Maybe you ought to stop saying and start doing," she says gently. "Better to ask forgiveness than permission, sometimes."

Rory had been at the hospital. It seemed rather quiet until Moana had stopped by and then everything had gone downhill. Rory stayed seated for only a second, long enough to process what Moana was saying: that Amy was hurt.

A second later he was out the door, barely enough time to flip a sign that said, 'The Hospital Staff is OUT" as he ran. Of course things couldn't just go smoothly here -- something was bound to happen to one of them -- he just had hoped it would be him.

Moana had left her at the inn, which at least wasn't far to run. Rory had to resist the urge to kick the door down and at least be mostly civil about entering. "Amy?" He spotted the red hair across the room and rushed over, "Amy! Are you all right?!"

Shouting husband is a loud thing, which makes her head hurt, but the relief of seeing Rory is more than worth whatever physical pain comes as a side-effect. Already, she's sitting up and reaching out for him, trying desperately to tug him closer by the collar of his scrubs, aching as she leans herself up to fit in the curve of his body, face buried into his neck. "I got hit by lightning," she says, in an accusatory, angry tone, the words utterly muffled by his skin. "Of all the things that never happened to, that wasn't one I wanted to add to the list," she complains, because when you've been turned into a doll, made to live in a personal nightmare, and had an angel nearly burst out of you, lightning seems low on the list of inconveniences until it happens.

She reluctantly lets go of him to lie back, her heart beating what feels like probably too fast. "I think I need a doctor," she admits.

Moana had told him as much, but it was a relief to see that the lightning hadn't done worse. He was less concerned nurse and more concerned husband right now. He ran his hands over her still semi-static hair, smoothing it down and hopefully soothing her. He could only imagine what the experience had been like and, while it was mild compared to some other incidents Amy had been through, he was still concerned for her safety.

"I'll take care of you," he said, knowing he's not a doctor but he's as close as they've got right now. "I need to check for burns. Are you feeling any disorientation?"

She nods, swallowing back the fear that's filling up her mind. "It's like everything is fuzzy," she admits, "sort of like I got conked on the head and I can't put the pieces back in the right order." Given their history of time travel, Amy suspects that's probably something that's been lingering just beneath the surface and waiting to get shook up. "There's this, too," she says, shifting her collar so Rory can see the weird marks on her neck. It's not exactly like the Silence, but it's still not exactly a tattoo she ever would have chosen.

"Everything's a mess in my head," she complains, "like I can't put it back in the right order. I keep thinking the Doctor is going to be here, I keep expecting him because he should be here, shouldn't he?"

Rory isn't surprised by her assessment, as it lines up with what he knows of victims of lightning strike. Still, the fact that it is now happening to Amy means he has to try and separate his personal concerns for his wife with his medical knowledge. He gently brushes his hand over the marks, considering the pattern. "Does it hurt?" There's little he can do for her memories, maybe try to straighten them out by talking to her, but other than that -- well, mostly he's concerned with pain and discomfort.

What hurts him is that they'd already had a discussion about the Doctor's presence, or lack there of, here. He moves his hand away from the mark, "He's not here Amy, at least, not yet. We can't know if he will ever be."

"My head does," she mumbles, trying to keep her eyes half-closed so that there's no more light filtering in and making her head ache. Honestly, it's only doing so much good and she's about to give up, but she needs to be able to fixate on getting things in the right order. She swallows back the grief of hearing what she'd already known. The Doctor's not here. He might never come here.

"Should we test my memory?" she suggests. "You're about the only person I can do this with, without someone thinking I'm mad enough to lock away in a straightjacket." Which, if she's honest, she might already be precariously close to, with certain people given all her talk of the weeping angels, when she'd arrived.

Rory had at least had the foresight to grab some of the supplies from the hospital -- what point would there be if he hadn't? He has it stored in the bag he'd arrived with and as soon as Amy admits to a headache he pulls out a bottle. One of the packages he'd received was helpful enough to have aspirin. He offers it to Amy now, "Would you like some water?"

He wants to help her, but he needs her head to be clear and he hates seeing her in pain...again.

"Do you want to do that here?"

"I'd say we should do this at home, but then I'd ask if you're willing to carry me," Amy confesses, seeing as she sort of doesn't feel entirely up for walking. Even then, she's reaching out for the water, giving a pleased sound when she sees beautiful, amazing, wonderful drugs along with beautiful, amazing, wonderful Rory. It's just a day for those sorts of things, now that she's sorted out being smacked down by some angry god.

"I think this is a new one I can add to the list. Never been hit by lightning before."

"I'm pretty sure I could manage carrying you," Rory scoffs. He knows he should be concerned, but come on Amy. How often had he carried you around? He's a stick but that doesn't mean he doesn't have any strength.

He looks around, checking to see who might be around. The inn isn't too busy right now, all things considered. "Besides, it's not your memory I'm as worried about testing here. I should really check you over and I'd rather not have to strip my wife in the middle of an inn lobby to give her a physical," Rory whispers. Which was only partly true -- they'd certainly gotten up to some strange shenanigans across time, but it was a little different when you had to sit down to breakfast with these people on a regular basis and couldn't just flee the scene in a TARDIS. No, best save that sort of behavior for another time and place.

"Well. You aren't wrong there."

"The romance is dead," she announces dramatically, as if Rory's refusal to strip her down in public is somehow a bad thing. She's already reaching out to drape her arms around his neck, anticipating him picking her up. He's carried her enough times, but she feels a bit extra dead weight right now and the last thing she wants is to throw out Rory's back or something because she can barely keep her head vertical for all the pounding.

"Come on, then," she says, accepting her fate, "Let's go home where you can get my kit off."

Rory looked around, wondering who heard that. The inn is still fairly empty and he frowns (or is pout more accurate) at Amy. Come on, now, really? Rory decided it was better to say nothing and scoops her up without much of a struggle on his part. "The romance isn't dead. I just know how you get when you're loopy and we can't be having any of that right now," Rory said.

He then started carrying her back out of the inn and towards their own dwelling where he could treat her with a little more privacy. While they walk he decides to get started on the mental part of her examination. "So, take me back. What's the last thing you remember and work from there to when you first arrived and what happened before you got here too."

Amy carefully arranges her arms around his neck, knowing that he can carry her with no problem (and that she likes it plenty when he does, especially when Roman Centurion outfits are involved), but at the same time, she doesn't want Rory to throw out his back or anything just because he's not letting her walk (though, she did just get struck by lightning, so maybe letting her stubbornness be cowed is for the best).

"I was out walking," Amy says, fighting through the haze, "and then out of nowhere, everything went black, my heart was racing, I hurt," she complains, "and everything was fuzzy." She kept expecting to wake up to the Doctor looming over her, Rory just behind. Rubbing at her eyes with the shoulder of her scrubs, she tries to get it all in place. "It was like all my memories got shoved in a blender."

Rory debated taking her to the hospital -- he was always trying to advocate and get others to go there for treatment instead of staying at their homes. But, well, this was a little different since he WOULD be the one looking after her anyway. Rory listened as she recounted events, "Blender...yeah, that sounds about right. Do you remember how you got here? How you found me?"

He doesn't waste time and thankfully their house isn't too far from the Inn in the first place. He managed to get Amy through the door with some careful juggling of his hands -- he was pretty adept with his hands when it came to Amy -- and didn't even trip over the door. "Bed or couch?"

"Bed," Amy says instantly, seeing as going to the couch would be silly seeing as he's going to end up moving her to the bed soon enough. She squeezes her eyes shut to think about Rory's question and she can pull that memory out of the pile. "We were coming out of a fountain. Not together, though. I got here and nearly froze my hair off looking for you," she recounts, "and then someone told me about a lanky beanpole and since he had a big nose and not a big chin, I figured it had to be you."

Amy glances towards the bed with a longing look, eager to get somewhere horizontal and comfortable.

Rory isn't going to argue and started taking her in the direction of their shared bedroom. When he gets to it, he sat her on the bed gently. "That's right. You apparently terrorized half the village before you found me," he mused, having heard from people later with reactions of 'Oh, YOU'RE the Rory that red head was looking for' and having to suffer through Amy's berating him for having not socialized more before she got here.

Still, like always, they had found each other. He wasn't going to question that--though at this point in his life he wasn't sure if that was luck, fate, or what.

"Anything else feel jumbled?"

Edited 2017-04-14 04:30 (UTC)

Amy rubs at the back of her neck as she tries to stifle the pounding headache, wincing when her fingers touch a particularly sore area that, when she looks down, looks like she's gone and given herself some kind of tattoo, like veins or tree branches. It's not exactly marks from seeing the Silence, but it's not something she wants permanently, either.

"The last few years, before here, they're a bit of a mess," she has to admit. "I remember everything, but the order they go in is hard," she says, which could just be her being removed from events. "Do you ever feel like that? Like you're not sure what misadventure happened when?"

"That was sort of a mess anyway all things considered," Rory says off-handedly. But he knows they should at least attempt to sort it out. Time travel would complicate it, but Rory was pretty sure he had it sorted out properly in his head. It couldn't be any worse than sorting out two or three different alternate lives he had lived. One piece at a time, that's how he had to do it.

"It's sometimes confusing, but only if I'm trying to put it in any kind of order all at once. It's easier if you treat it like a jigsaw, put down a piece and slowly make the whole picture. We'll work backwards...that is from most recent to where things aren't as jumbled in the past," Rory said. "But it might just sort out on its own with some rest too. Thinking about our past isn't going to help your headache, that's for sure."

"No, that's definitely true," Amy agrees swiftly, shifting on the bed in order to get the pillow under her head, aware she's giving Rory a rather pathetic look as she wants a little more warmth and touch, eager for him to come and stay with her. "So can we stop playing headshrink on Amy and start being husband?" she requests.

She's probably not fine, exactly, but on the other hand, she's also not about to croak in the next few minutes. It had been a close call and she finds that all she wants, right now, is Rory, with her. "Come cuddle me," she demands stubbornly, voice small.

Rory brushes her hair out of her face as she adjusts to get her head on the pillow. He gazes down at her and decides she's probably fine all things considered. She's certainly walking and talking and being her usual self, which is a good sign. They'd survived worse and in Rory's expert medical opinion she was clear for what he was about to do next.

He closed the distance between them, kissing her softly as his hand cupped her face. He climbed into the bed, slipping his arms around her to cuddle, "If you insist."

"I do," she informs him, like it's the most important thing he's going to do today. She can feel her eyes already falling shut, the day's exhaustion catching up with her, but part of that is just that she feels safe with Rory. Even when the Doctor was around, she trusted no one to keep her safe so much as her patient centurion. Shame she doesn't have the costume for him to wear, here.

Leaning her head delicately against Rory's shoulder, she absently plays with his shirt. "Don't you go and get yourself hit by lightning just to make it even," she warns. "I'm more than happy taking the brunt of this one for the marriage."

He shifts closer, resting his head on her shoulder as he lays against her. He begins stroking her hair, knowing she's starting to feel the exhaustion of her ordeal return to her. He'll lay here all night if he needs to.

"I promise not to get struck by lightning," Rory says, taking the order very seriously. He'd come close a few times already and after Amy got hit, well, perhaps he could spend his time better inside instead.

Amy makes a humming noise that roughly means she's going to hold him to that promise, seeing as she doesn't think that she could stand the idea of Rory being hurt when she's in such bad shape herself, because even though she's not a nurse, she wants to be able to take care of him. "Don't go anywhere," she mumbles, reaching her hands out in a grabby attempt to keep Rory closer to her. "You need to stay, chase the nightmares away."

"My Rory," she murmurs, her eyes shut. "My centurion, always guarding me."

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