A/N an alternate view on Amy's thoughts whilst using the password in 'The Doctor's Wife'. I don't own Doctor Who and make no money from this ficlet. Review if you feel like it.

1. Crimson

The colour of the blood that pours from the gaping bullet – or whatever passes for bullets here - wound on his thigh. Desperate running limp back to the TARDIS, supporting his weight and yours. Stumbling through the doors – ignoring the pull to open sign, unceremoniously slamming them shut just as the next volley of shots impacts at your backs. His distressed laugh followed by scream of agony as you continue to drag him in the vague direction of where the med bay was three (or was it four?) trips ago. Attempting to play doctor (haha play Doctor!) as you cut the fabric of his trousers to see the wound and apply pressure with some gauze the TARDIS helpfully provided, and ignoring his cries of "those were my best trousers Pond!" and "I feel much better now, leave me to deal with it". He subsides when you glare at him, but that's probably the blood loss going to his head. Eventually, the bleeding stops and he provides roundabout instructions to using the futuristic equipment that heals the hole in his leg and leaves a faint scar above his knee. Once he's patched up he goes…somewhere and leaves the bloodied bandages where they fall, and the parting words of "Come along, Pond!" floating in the silence behind him. He shows up later in new (identical) trousers and no sign of a limp, although you do catch him wincing and leaning against the console, even though he'd never admit his weakness.