"The past is but the beginning of a beginning, and all that is and has been is but the twilight of the dawn." - H.G. Wells, "The Discovery of the Future," 1901


The Doctor has never been very good at secrets. Koschei would tease him about regenerating to have a face of actual glass just to save time of having to judge his expressions, but that was just him being spiteful, wasn't it? No, it's more that he prizes fact. He can lie, very well in fact, so long as the end is important, but on the things that matter, those are the ones you can't bluff your way through. It's not right, nor fair.

No, facts, they're important. You start messing about with facts and suddenly you can't sort anything out, and he's lost too many too suddenly without telling them the important facts like thank yous and love yous and so forth.

He bounds up the steps and brushes Amy's fringe from her face to kiss her fondly on the forehead. "Hi," he says to her bewildered, lovely face, and adds, "thank you, Pond."

"Um," Amy says, and sits up, seizing him by the arm of the jacket. "Wait! Doctor, are you – you know, all right?" Her eyebrows are scrunching up like she's confused. "You're acting... weird. Weirder."

"Weirder than usual," Rory supplies from his spot across the room doing a crossword, and adds in a stage whisper, "I think he needs tea."

Amy releases the Doctor's arm and sends her husband a weary look. "Well I'm not your housekeeper."

"Right, that's enough," he says – he has his pride, after all. "Time Lord can't say thank you to his own leggy safecracker, what's the world come to – "

"Oi," Rory warns, "enough with the leggy comments."

"Oh in that case, thank you," Amy returns, as she puts up a token resistance to the inevitable smile.

The Doctor flashes only the teasing start of a smile in return before he flips a switch on the nav console and sends the TARDIS in the opposite direction. "Regency era! Great costumes – clothes, I mean, obviously – and Rory, you'll like this bit, no legs! Lovely people, polite, you'll fit in perfectly," he adds to Rory, and pauses to look at Amy. "Not you, though. Just… follow our lead, yeah?"

Amy beams proudly. "Don't think so, thanks."

"Oh god," Rory realizes at seeing that look on her face. "Amy – "

"Ha," the Doctor declares at the TARDIS, and grins at the column as it bobs determinedly away, sending them towards the next adventure.

How can he feel alone with a whole universe to show off like the sharpest, brightest jewel hewn from the most wondrous stuff possible?

Answer: he shouldn't. He can't. And he won't.