Secrets left behind

by Carol Sandford

Rated PG

Disclaimer is in force, so leave me be, you brutes!

It was 10.00am on a Monday morning. A work day, technically. Every day was a work day for The Doctor, whether I wanted to work, or not. And I didn't. Not today, nor yesterday, or the day before that. I certainly didn't want to work today and had to drag my ass out of bed solely for the purpose of having to use the bathroom. But, Clara had heard me move and moments later I smelt the distinct smoky aroma of bacon frying. I loved bacon, but not today and my stomach roiled at the invasion of its scent on my empty stomach.

Hoisting my braces over my shoulder I began to tuck my shirt into my pants and slowly come to a standstill. I stared down at my empty bed for a long moment before half-heartedly reaching down to pull up the coverlet and letting it drop. Not so long ago I would have made my bed with military precision; tucked in all the corners despite knowing that I would kick them all out before settling down. The sheet tucked over would have been so taut that you would have thought that it had only been put on that morning; still crisp and white and not a crease or a stain in sight.

In reality I hadn't changed the bedding in over a fortnight and had no intention of changing it any time soon. I could no longer be bothered, not by that, or by anything else. I sighed despondently as I turned away from the one thing that had once been my refuge; my sanctuary, my peace. I was no longer at peace. I was lost. I was utterly lost without her. Without Amy.

There were so many things that I never said to her when she vanished before my very eyes that horrible day in the graveyard. There were so many things left unsaid and undone that it's left me stranded. Frail. Exhausted and tired of trying to live this life without love. Without Amy.

I was no longer afraid to admit to myself that I'd needed her. I'd needed her strength, her confidence, but most of all, I'd needed her love, even though I'd never realized that fact until now. I just needed her, with me, and within me. Something wonderful had happened to me. And then something terrible had happened.

Her.

I have had so many companions, so many people that given me their trust, their loyalty and their devotion, but I have never had love. I have come close, so, so close to feeling that magical sensation of being loved, but then I have changed. I am always changing, and with that change I invariably lose those who are closest to me, whether I like it or not.

The closest I have gotten to love - to real love, left me before I left her and I haven't yet gotten over the shock of that yet. She chose to be with Rory. She chose to leave me behind and I just can't get over that. I cannot move on. Not yet. It's too soon and too raw. Amy was right to go. Her life was with Rory, while I...I have no life. My life is as unstable as a churning volcano waiting to erupt and destroy everything that I hold dear. Only for me it's just a temporary explosion and I get to live on. And with that life comes the same losses, just with a different companion. I always get a different companion. And then I have to start over, sharing, trusting and building a companionship and a relationship that defies all logic and reason.

I now have Clara, but she is not Amy. There will never be another Amy. There will never be another me, not the same me that loved Amy. I have nothing left of her except memories and moments. God damn it, I don't even have a picture.

But then, I don't need a picture, I guess. I can see her in my mind's eye; the flaming hair, the cheeky grin, the knockout body, plus the love that shone in her eyes for Rory. I was aware that I was special to her. I know that and I cherish it. I will always cherish it, just as I cherish her. But she loved Rory. He's been the one to capture her heart.

My sigh is heavy as I lift my gaze from my bed and wander away. The lights are still set to dim to suit my heavy mood, casting shadows as I move aimlessly around the sparse room. I've ignore Clara's incessant hollering to come and eat because I don't want to eat right now. I don't want to do anything but mourn for a loss that I don't really understand. How could I? How would I really know what love was all about? Love was for mankind and I was better than mankind. I was The Doctor, and The Doctor wasn't supposed to fall in love.

But maybe that was why I regenerated. Maybe that was the horrible reasoning for it happening time and time again. 'Uh, oh, The Doctor's falling, time to get him out of there.' My mantra had become, 'Don't love me. Please, don't love me, because if you fall in love with me I've got to leave.' And I really didn't want to leave.

Maybe that's why I know my own time as this Doctor is coming to an end. I can feel it. I can feel the changes beginning within me. My hearts are heavy with loss, but I don't think the loss is just Amy leaving me. I have felt this feeling too many times before, and in some ways, I'm welcoming it, as a new body and a new mind would feel renewed, re-awakened and I'd be able to move on. I know that I will move on, because I have no choice.

But I'm not going yet and so the agonies of Amy's leaving is still haunting me, and hurting me and I finally find myself in front of the mirror that hangs on the back of my bedroom door. I shove my hands deep into my pockets and stare broodily at my reflection. I start at my hair and slowly work my way down. What in the universe would Amy have seen in me anyway - if she hadn't been crazy in love with Rory?

I had mad hair, a face that could have done with a little more fine-tuning. A lean body that, while strong, it didn't have the kind of physique that would make a woman swoon. Long, slim legs that, quite frankly, were a bit too spindly for a guy. I was pale skinned, highlighted even more so by very dark hair. And then there were my eyes, my best feature usually. At the moment they were sad and weary. Tears never seemed far away and it took a monumental effort to keep them locked inside along with my tortured thoughts.

And then there are my clothes. Weird. Fun. Eccentric, but they are ultimately me. They are who I am. Amy used to laugh like a drain at some of the things I wore and she and Riversong took great delight in destroying my, 'cool things'. I manage to wrangle a small wry but sad smile as I remember those things being shot to oblivion. I somehow managed to hold onto the bowtie. I guess they liked those.

But the smile doesn't last long. The memory only serves to remind me of what I have lost and I turn away suddenly disgusted with myself. Sloping over to my hanging rail I flick uninterestedly through the clothes that hang there and grab the first thing that my hand stops on. The jacket was fairly new. It was black and a little longer than my usual style. It was more like a morning jacket really, but it was dark and it suited my current mood. I hadn't wore it for a while and as I slipped it on I felt my mood shift as a memory flittered through me. Amy had been with me when I'd picked the jacket up from a flea market in some bygone age in some bygone city that we'd happened upon on our travels. She'd said it suited me, especially twinned with the red scarf that she'd draped around my neck.

But it had been her smiling eyes that I'd remembered from that day. I loved her eyes. They told you so much, and they told me how special I was to her. I moved to look in the mirror again as I straightened myself out, tucked down the collar and on impulse, reached for that same scarf and draped it around my neck and then liftede it to my face, taking in its lingering scent - Amy's scent, even though she'd done little more than hold it as she'd put it on me. I'll never forget that moment. I have so many little moments like that and it's those that I focus on as I slowly try and get my act together.

Taking a deep breath I bolster myself up to step through the door to start yet another day and I brace myself by slapping my chest with both hands and a futile attempt to 'man up'. But as I slap and turn I feel something crumple against my breast and it sharply brings me to a halt. I looked in the small pocket high on my chest, reached in and pulled out a small envelope. My hearts thump with excitement and curiosity. Who had left it? When had they left it? My hearts began to pound as I moved my other shaking hand to tug open the envelope treating it with a reverence that I couldn't quite understand. I held my breath as I took a hopeful and tentative peek inside.

As soon as I saw what it was I almost choked on the gasp that left my aching lungs and tears sprung to my eyes as I gently reached in and took out the tiny snapshot. It was of Amy and I and I could only assume that it had been Rory that had taken the picture. I remembered the moment when we had been simply talking, sitting side by side on a wall completely engrossed in the conversation that we were having. But that hadn't been what had been captured. It had been the way that we were looking at each other and it told the whole story of not only how I'd felt about Amy, but more importantly, how Amy had really felt about me.

Our eyes had touched down on each other's and had been captured. Rory had caught our secret seconds.

I knew Amy had loved Rory, deeply, but the picture showed me, and its taker, that she also loved me too, just a little bit. It was that knowledge alone that made my hearts soar with a happiness that I thought I'd never feel again.

The tears that I'd held in check since she'd gone finally fell. Only now those tears weren't from the bitter loss of her, but of a joy that I could probably never explain to any rational soul. Something wonderful had happened and Rory had given her back to me with something as simple as a photograph I could forever cherish, no matter which Doctor I eventually became. As I pulled out my ridiculously empty wallet and tucked the photo deep inside, I smiled. It had been the first genuine smile - if a somewhat watery one – I'd allowed since that fateful day in the cemetery when I'd lost her forever.

Suddenly the smell of bacon reminded me that I was starving and I quickly tucked the wallet back away with a tender pat to tell myself that she was there, with me, always. Swinging away from the mirror I reached for the door handle and turned it. But something stopped me from opening it. Something was niggling me. Something was amiss and I turned and scanned the room behind me.

The bed.

I couldn't leave the bed a moment longer. Opening the door a fraction I yelled to my companion, 'I'll be right there, Clara! And I'll have four slices this morning, please!" Rubbing my hands together with enthusiasm, I reached for untucked corner of the sheet and yanked.