This is upon the request of my friend The Ticking Clock, who suggested an Amy Pond/11th Doctor friendship fic.
To which I had to say: Bring it on!
It is actually my first 11 fic, so I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: As usual, I do not own Doctor Who or any of its characters.

Amy Pond crept silently into the TARDIS control room to find The Doctor sitting in his hammock below the console, making repairs and whispering to the ship he loved so dearly. It was very late in relative time, and though she knew he slept less often than humans, Amy had no idea what he was doing out here in the middle of the night.
She tiptoed across the room to look down at him through the glass floor.

"Amy? What are you doing up?" he asked, focused on repairing some sort of machinery that looked more like a kitchen utensil or a large toy.

Amy tied the ends of her dressing gown together.
"Couldn't sleep. And what are you doing out here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

The Doctor peeked up at her through the glass floor.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" he asked, going back to his work.

Amy rolled her eyes. She hated when he changed the subject and wouldn't answer questions.

"Couldn't turn my mind off. It was too quiet. Got sick of tossing and turning. So, here I am." she curtsied as she walked down the steps to stand beside him in his sling, grabbing a blanket on her way.

The Doctor nodded.
"And Rory?"

Amy scoffed.
"Still sleeping. Didn't wanna wake him. He'd prolly just freak out and think something was wrong. Keep me up all night asking if I'm alright." she laughed.
Rory was just so...protective. It could be overwhelming at times. But it's one of the many things she loved about him. He cared.

The Doctor hid behind his work with the little piece of–oh, gosh. It can only be described as a toy. None of this could ever be parts to a time machine.
But that's not what worried Amy.
He only did tedious work like this when he had something on his mind.

"What's wrong, Doctor? You seem...off." she asked kindly as she put hand on his shoulder.

He raised pale, iridescent eyebrow.
"'Off?' What does that mean?" he asked.

Amy rolled her eyes. He was just so frustrating sometimes. She didn't know how he survived, using all these scientific terms in normal conversation and not knowing what she meant by 'off'.
She sighed and leaned against him.

"You just seem...odd. Staying up late. Being all mysterious." she poked him in the side playfully.
He sighed and went deeper into his work.
Amy raised her eyebrows again.
Something is bothering him. Something big.

"What is it Doctor? What's wrong? Anything. You can tell me."

He swallowed loudly.
"I'm fine Amelia. Perfectly fine. Absolutely, 100% fine..." he trailed off into mumbles.

Amy smacked him on the arm.
"If y'think I don't know better than that, you're an idiot! Tell me Doctor!"

He looked up at her with his big green eyes, their appearance that of a begging puppy dog.

"NOW."

Admitting defeat, He sighed and put his toy down.

"I suppose-if you REALLY must know…You are very prying, you know that?" he scolded, changing subject.
Amy gave him a look of warning.
He rolled his eyes and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Fine! If you must know! I-"
He swallowed again.
"It's these dreams...They are driving me insane..."

Amy pulled the blanket over his shoulders.
"What dreams, Doctor? What've they been like?" she asked as she took his hand.

He ran a hand through his floppy brown hair.
"Everything. Terrifying...Painful..."

He had an odd look of sadness in his thousand-year-old eyes.
Amy pulled her fiery orange hair out of her face as to see him clearer.

"What, like being chased by crazy killer Clowns or having major surgery without painkillers?" she asked.

The Doctor raised a brow.
"No, nothing like that...'Crazy killer clowns'?"

Amy shrugged.
"I don't know what you dream about."

The Doctor shook his head.
"Definitely not clowns."

Amy raised an eyebrow.
"Surgery then?" she asked.

The Doctor shook his head.
"I don't think you understand. These are my nightmares-the worst things that have ever happened to me in my entire life, and I have lived a pretty long one–These aren't just human thriller movies. I have seen the universe torn apart–Yet somehow my nightmares are worse!"

Amy's eyes were wide with shock.
"Alright! Don't freak out on me Doctor! What are they really about?"

He closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair.
"I'm sorry. I'm just-I'm sorry.
It's like I told you, the worst things that have ever happened to me in my life. The Titanic, Pompeii, the Valiant, Bad Wolf bay, the Time War, it's all there."

Amy had no idea what the things on that list meant. But she did not plan on asking or interrupting.

"But it's all...silent. Like the audio has been turned off or completely turned down. What is supposed to have sound is entirely gone. Even screams."

Amy raised an eyebrow.
"No audio?"

The Doctor shook his head.
"No audio."

Amy's forehead wrinkled, deep in thought.
"What do you think could be the cause of all this?

The Doctor shrugged.
"They're just bad dreams, Amy. Nothing really causes them. I'm sure I will get over them soon."

But that was all a lie.
He knew what was causing these dreams, even though he didn't know why.
It was the cracks.
In time and space.
On the wall of a little Scottish girls bedroom. In the secondary flight station of a ship surrounded by Angels. And briefly on the console computer screen.

Amy sensed the lie but excused it, knowing he was more or less lying to himself. But she was still determined to help him.

"Well, bad dreams can go away on their own, but they will go away faster of you fix 'em. And lucky for you, I know just the remedy! C'mon!"
She pulled on his arm, trying to get him out of the hammock.

"No, Pond. I'm fine." he lied, tugging away from her grasp.

Amy tutted.
"No sir! I'm not taking no for an answer! You're comin' with me!" she managed to pull him out of his sling, making him drop his little piece of machinery.
He scoffed as he let her drag him across the TARDIS control room and up the stairs.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, only half interested.

Amy turned and smile at him.
"On a date!" she exclaimed.

He scowled at that answer, a look of disgust on his face.
"You're getting married in the morning!"

Amy shook her head.
"Tomorrow morning is a long time from now. But pipe down. I wasn't thinking THAT kinda date. I was thinking more along the lines of...warm milk and chocolate chip cookies?"

The Doctor nodded.
"Now that-that sounds more reasonable." he said, smiling.

He let her drag him to the TARDIS kitchen, his previous worries and work forgotten.

Neither of them noticed the shining horizontal crack in The Doctor's toy piece of machinery.

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