Disclaimer: However hard I wish, I don't own the Doctor, The TARDIS or any of Doctor Who.
A/N: I was watching the God Complex and this idea came to me, so I just thought I'd put it down on paper :)
The Doctor swallowed, edging towards the door that was calling to him. There was a brass sign on the door. 11. And the Doctor knew it was his room. Besides the pull he felt, he was the eleventh incarnation of himself, and he just knew it. Feeling his curiosity overwhelming the fear he was experiencing, the Doctor reached out and turned the brass door knob, opening the door a crack and peeking his head round it. And as soon as he saw the contents he knew it couldn't have been anything else, just like the letter that girl had written - Lucy Haywood. She had said when you see what's in your room you realise it couldn't have been anything else. She was correct.
Inisde his room was the TARDIS. Or what was left of it that it. It looked like it had been in a really bad crash to be honest, but there was nobody there to fly it. Died in the crash? The Doctor's eyes widened as he took in the mangled form of 'Sexy', which wasn't so sexy now. But it was still his TARDIS. The main console looked terrible, and the warning bell was going off. Smoke was steaming, and half of the main console was hanging by a shread. The Doctor stepped back, quickly shutting the door after he had whispered, "Of course. Who else?" The Doctor ran off back to find the others, trying ever so hard to forget what he had just seen. It wasn't real, and when he finds the TARDIS again he'll see that it's fine, she's fine. That's what the Doctor told himself anyway. It had shaken him though. His TARDIS, the one he stole that is, crushed and damaged beyond repair. Guess being in a state of temperal grace didn't really help it. But he had failed it. He had borrowed a TARDIS and wrecked it, or that's what would happen if he kept carelessly travelling around like there was no cost. And his mind wondered to his companions. Or more specifically, Amy. And Rory too. But mostly Amy. She was just like that, he had taken her away to see the stars, but if he wasn't careful he could break her, he could damage her beyond repair. And he couldn't let that happen.
So somewhere in the back of his brain, while the Doctor was figuring out how to get them out of the hotel and stop this 'monster', he was wondering about what he should do, and a plan - a not so good plan- but a plan all the same. And the the bad thing was that the plan made sense. He could either drop Amy off at the house he had bought, just in case he needed it, with Rory and remember them all healthy and well and pop back for Christmas dinner, or he could carry on in his little blue box and risk it all, maybe having to drop one of the Ponds off one day, their cheecks tear-stained as they mourn over the death of their other half. And so the Doctor thought. And thought. How selfish was he? Would he like to have to admit to River that he killed her parents out of selfishness because he couldn't bear to be alone on the TARDIS? No. He'd much rather have them healthy and alive and well. And that's what he'd have to do. Besides, his time was running out...he didn't have that long, and he had a few final journeys he wanted to make. And maybe they were best made on their own. So the decision was made.
But what would happen to the TARDIS?