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Language:
English
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Published:
2015-07-26
Updated:
2025-08-14
Words:
5,151
Chapters:
8/?
Comments:
3
Kudos:
6
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Time in the Seam

Summary:

Some things stay the same. Some things define them.

A collection of scraps of writing and drabbles about Amy/Rory

Notes:

Dug up from three years ago, early days of Ponds feels, dusted off, posted here. Amy and Rory as kids.

I will hopefully be recovering more little Amy/Rory writings from several years ago soon. These two crazy in love kids were who I used to test out my writing abilities again when I first started up after a three year long hiatus in 2011. So this will likely be where I post any of those scraps and drabbles that aren't able to be turned into anything longer.

Artwork is mine!

Chapter Text

                                                                                                                      


 

"Shut up!" she yelled, almost screeching, as she stalked away, fists clenched by her sides, brow furrowed in anger, tears stinging at her eyes, stubbornly not turning around. 

"Amy!" he yelled, his voice angry, all desperation that may have been there before when he'd called gone and replaced with cold, hard frustration. 

"I hate you!" She continued on, just looking to the bend in the road, just to get past that and out of his sight. There was silence at that, and she nearly stopped, but if only for a slight stumble in her rhythmic stomping away (one she hoped was unnoticed) she kept going. 

"I hate you too, then!"

She stopped then, at those words, distant and echoing. But she was out of sight now and it didn't matter. She walked over to the tall, sturdy oak tree by the pavement and slumped down with her back to it.

Five minutes later he came around the bend as well. She knew he was behind her, still on the walk, not looking directly but seeing her out of the corner of his eye. She was crying, covering her face, and silent.

He came over to her, the crunch of fallen leaves and scuffing of dirt beneath his feet, as he stepped over a root and threw his backpack down, sitting idly next to her. He watched her - waited for her to uncover her eyes - his expression, no other discernible emotion but that tiring, easy look of patience. 

After a few minutes she uncovered her face. She lay her hands in her lap and didn't look at him for a long while, the tears all dried on her face and salt under her nails. He still watched. She favored a glance at him, a look that would have nearly broken his heart just for itself, if it wasn't already broken because it was so familiar. She was shy and scared and only looking to see if he was really still there. Then she looked back down. 

"I'll wait," he said. 

She nodded, knowing, and let another tear slip through her lashes. 

They'd wait, no matter what might have come between them before, with her locked away inside herself and him standing guard, keeping vigil, until she was ready to open back up.