Disclaimer: I do not own DW or any of the related characters
Just a quick drabble thing, originally intended to be entirely from Amy's POV. No 11/Amy intended. Just what I think Amy thinks about the Doctor. I don't like it all that much, but hey I can't like everything I write. Enjoy.
Reviews and crits welcomed.
Talking to the Doctor was easy. He was just that kind of guy. The type who, no matter what you have to say, will listen intently, even if he thought it completely insignificant. And if he did find it insignificant, well, who could blame him? He'd seen the universe, seen all of time and space, the massive expanse of what some may consider nothingness, but was so much more. He had seen his planet burn and his race crippled in war. He had lost so many people, friends and family, and yet he carried on. It was admirable and ridiculous all at the same time. Amy had always been able to talk to him, ever since he crash landed in her garden when she was a little girl. She had told him about the crack in her wall. The one that terrified her, the brave little Amelia Pond, beyond belief. When she was around the Doctor she felt like she could speak freely and things just sort of spilled out her mouth. Like when he had come back for her twelve years late. She hadn't intended to tell him. In fact she had been hoping that she could just pretend it never happened and he would go away, disappear like he had the day she first met him and never come back. As it turned out the shed gave it all away and she had ended up blurting it out in anger. Though she now wondered whether she would have ended up telling him anyway. He was just that kind of guy. Talking to the Doctor was easy. Getting him to talk was another matter entirely. Sure you could get him talking about aliens and planets, but when it came to talking about him there was nothing. He avoided that topic of conversation as though it were the plague. He refused to tell anyone who he was. 'Just the Doctor'. That's what he'd always say. He was 'just the Doctor'. Nothing more, nothing less. He would never talk about his planet either. When it came up in conversation he'd pretend that he hadn't heard, or change the topic entirely. It was as though he thought the utterance of a single letter would bring the universe to an end. Getting the Doctor talk was like asking a baby to pilot an aircraft. It was near impossible. Just like him. He was an impossible man. Somehow that made everything easier.
Talking to the Doctor was easy. He was just that kind of guy. The type who, no matter what you have to say, will listen intently, even if he thought it completely insignificant. Getting the Doctor to talk was another matter entirely.
