Notes: This is my very first Doctor Who fanfiction, so I hope I did the show justice. It was inspired by Rory's line in The Doctor's Wife, season 6. By the way Amy dragged him off after he spoke, it seemed like she knew something. This kind of shows a slightly darker side to the Doctor. Tell me what you think, please. Anything and everything is appreciated. :)
"Doctor, do you have a room?" Rory was just being curious; Amy knew that. But all the same, she grabbed him by the arm and tugged him away hastily. She knew he meant no harm in asking the simple question, and she was sure it would have done no harm, but she just needed to be safe. She'd asked the question once, too, and it had been one of the scariest moments of her life.
There was a certain mystery to the Doctor that practically begged bystanders to follow him and figure out what he was. Yes, he was a Time Lord. Yes, he was a crazy old man with a young face that traveled in a big blue box that was relatively small compared to the universe yet still quite large on the inside. Yes, he was all of those things. But what was he really? There was somebody underneath all of the bowties and the fezzes. There was a mysterious person calling to spectators, luring them in so they can give futile guesses as to what this man really is. Amy got caught up in all of the mystery, just like everybody else. The only difference was that she acted on it.
Amy wandered down a corridor, grumbling to herself about how nothing could be found in this 'blue box of horrors.' All she had wanted was a glass of warm milk before bed, and a half hour later she was God-knows-how-many miles away from her room and the kitchen. She was just about to give up and sleep on the floor when she heard the distant click of heels on the metal floor. Since Rory was sound asleep in their bedroom and the only other person in the TARDIS— hopefully— was the Doctor, she had to assume it was the latter.
Oh, God, he can't see me here, Amy thought, ducking into a corner of a corridor as the footsteps grew louder. She had sat through far too many of his lectures on not getting lost inside the TARDIS, and she was not about to sit through another. She tucked her feet in by her sides and disappeared into a shadow, holding her breath as he walked by. His shoulders were slumped forward in a very non-Doctor way. His hair was messy, like he had been running his fingers through it constantly. Actually, Amy thought, peeking from around her corner and watching him walk off. He looks kind of… tired.
She had never really thought about it before, but she supposed even he had to sleep sometimes. He did have to sleep, right? Did Time Lords ever get tired? Amy thought back to every occasion she had had with the crazy man, but she couldn't recall a single time when he had ever complained about being tired. He seemed to run on endless energy, traipsing around time and space and causing trouble wherever he landed. Then he'd fix whatever he'd done, and waltz right off to another adventure without even batting an eye. She'd never even heard him say anything about needing rest, let alone seen him be tired before. She wasn't even sure if he had a bedroom.
This, of course, sparked her interest. When she was sure he was far enough away, Amy emerged from the shadows and walked after the tired Time Lord as quietly as she possibly could. She followed the sound of his feet, listening for the metallic ring of his heels colliding with the ground. It really wasn't that hard to follow him, which sort of surprised her. She had expected the Doctor to catch her in the act of spying or something. Maybe he really was tired.
The clicking of his heels stopped suddenly, and Amy froze. Had he heard her? She had been so careful with her footsteps! She bit her lip and took another step forward, coming to the end of a corridor. She slowly peeked her head around a corner, first to the left, then to the right, which was the direction her sleepy man had turned and walked down. But when she looked over, he was nowhere to be seen. When she headed down the hallway, the only thing in sight was a single door at the very end. No other doors, no other turns, and no Doctor.
Then that must be his room, she thought. The door was nothing special; it was just like every other door in the place. A bronze knob reflected light towards her, beckoning her to turn it. She could practically hear a voice telling her to go in. To find out about the mysterious Doctor. What did he have a room for if he did not sleep? What sorts of things did he hide in there? Or did he sleep, and was there just a bed and some other, normal things stashed behind that door? But if it was normal, would he not have shown her inside yet? Why did the man keep all of this a secret, hidden away at the back of the TARDIS? Why, why, why?
Amy shook her head slightly, trying to clear it from all of the confusion. She was way overthinking this, and she knew it. Her fingers reached forward, latching onto the bronze knob and turning it until she heard a soft click. She smiled smugly and opened the door. But what she found was definitely not what she had expected.
There was no other word to describe the room other than chaotic. It was a whirling mass of unkempt gizmos and strewn gadgets. Amy couldn't even see the floor beneath the piles and piles of metal and cloth and whatever that was. There were heinous tangles of random objects stacked up around the walls, which were seemingly endless. In fact, the entire room seemed to go on for infinity. She looked up at the ceiling, which reached as far as the eye could see, stretching upwards and standing tall. The walls disappeared in the distance, along with the growing piles of material.
The things weren't even nice, she noted, kicking a stray, beaten-up hat out of her way. Everything was basically junk. There were stacks of moldy boxes filled with rotting files. There were dingy toys and decaying towels. There was even a broken mirror pushed into a corner, left to collect dust. The room was completely filthy.
"Who is there?" The Doctor's voice suddenly boomed from every part of the room, and Amy looked around nervously. He had that tone in his voice that hinted at complete madness, and it made her stomach twist. "I said, who is there?"
"Amy," she said quietly, then cleared her throat and spoke again. "It's Amy." She waited for a response, but one didn't come immediately. She raised her leg to step over a broken chair, but a noise caught her attention and she looked up.
"You can't be here." The Doctor was jumping over stray objects with ease, pushing past everything like he had done it for his entire life. His jacket was gone, so he was only in a blue-and-white striped button-up, which was only half-tucked-in. His bowtie was missing, which seemed strange to Amy. He always had his bowtie. His suspenders hung loosely by his legs, flapping about as he hurdled a collapsed desk. He had a look of urgency on his face, and his hair was even wilder than before, sticking up straight in some places.
"Doctor," she started, walking forward so he wouldn't have to run as far, "is this your room?"
"You cannot be here!" He slammed into her, nearly knocking the wind out of her lungs. His hands gripped her arms abnormally tightly, and Amy squeaked out in pain as his fingers dug into her flesh. His face got an inch away from hers, and his eyes bore into her own like daggers. They were wide and glassy, completely crazed.
"Doctor, what's wrong?" Amy tried to get away from him, but his grip was made of steel, and now he was starting to shake her.
"No one is supposed to be in here," he screamed, shaking her with every syllable. "These are my things, nobody else's. You can't be here. Get out," he yelled, shoving Amy away. "Get out!" The Doctor turned and ran, slipping over an old fridge and ducking under a pillar. He paused long enough to glare over his shoulder at Amy, and she got the hint. Without another word, she sprinted for the door, tripping over a rusty model train.
Amy had never seen anything like it in her life. She had seen the Doctor get a little irrational before, and he had snapped a couple of times, but nothing like that. Her heart pounded in her ears as she recalled the look of sheer terror and madness on his face. He had looked like somebody caught in the act of doing something very, very wrong. The frenzied insanity that had flashed in his eyes showed up every time she blinked. What scared her the most was his desperate voice and actions. He had not wanted her to see that, whatever it was.
Amy started to walk down a random corridor, still not sure where to go. Her legs were wobbling, and her shaky fingers pushed her hair behind her ears. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't forget about it. And she really, really wanted to forget about it.
"Amelia?" She turned, her heart starting up again as she backed into a corner. The Doctor's heels clicked against the floor, getting louder as he neared. However, the man who popped up from around the corner was not nearly the same man she had witnessed jump over piles of trash.
His hair wasn't messy anymore, and was combed to the side neatly like it usually was. His bowtie was tied securely around his neck, and his jacket was draped over his shoulders. His face gave no indication of the previous madness that had plagued it. Amy almost believed she had made the entire thing up, but then thought better of it. She had seen what she had seen, sadly. And it was all true.
"Doctor," she greeted, emerging slowly from her safe corner. He seemed a little hesitant at first, but then the Doctor smiled and took her by the arm gently, a stark difference from when he was gripping her like she was his lifeline.
"Lost again, aren't you?" There was a smug smile on his face, which was definitely standard for him. All in all, everything seemed back to normal.
"I'm not lost," she argued, looking around and trying to find any indication of where they were. She found nothing. He led her along in silence, and as much as she wanted to act like things were normal, they weren't. She took a deep breath, hoping he would keep up the calm act if she started to question him. "Was that your bedroom?" Amy looked over at him, and she could tell he was mulling over something in his head.
"Yes," he answered finally, his voice taut.
"What was with all of that… stuff?" She was about to say junk, but thought better of it. No use in insulting his things, she supposed. When Amy turned to look at him, the Doctor had set his jaw and was staring straight ahead, ignoring her entirely. "Doctor?"
"Yes, Amelia?" His voice was edgy again, and he was clenching and unclenching his jaw.
"You had piles upon piles of things, Doctor. Why? What was all of that?" She tried to catch his eye, but it was obvious he wasn't going to answer.
"Here's your room," he said suddenly, stopping in front of a door. It looked like every other door, but she trusted him. Amy was about to try to ask again, but the way he was avoiding eye contact made it clear that he was not going to give her any answers to any more questions. Still, she had to get at least one more piece of information. The curiosity in her just begged for it.
"Just tell me one thing," she said, and he looked at her with a shielded expression. "Why won't you tell me?" He was silent for a while, and just when she was convinced he wasn't going to answer, he opened his mouth to speak.
"There are things you don't know about me, Amelia, and they are things you don't need to know. I have secrets, just like everybody else," he started to turn, but she grabbed his arm, stopping him.
"Why won't you tell me these secrets?" Amy demanded, looking at him sternly. He only gazed back with a calm, collected expression, a slight smile creeping up on his lips.
"Because," he poked her on the nose, much to her annoyance, "then they wouldn't be secrets." And with that, the Doctor turned and left, the sound of his heels on the metal floor growing distant as she stood there, speechless.
As she silently went into her room and lay down, Amy thought about the Doctor, and what a mysterious individual he was. She hadn't known a thing about the man, and now she knew even less, impossibly. There was a world of questions yet to be answered about him, and it didn't seem like they were going to be resolved any time soon. As she slipped off into sleep, one last image crept into her thoughts. The Doctor stared at her through petrified eyes, screaming at the top of his lungs for her to leave his filthy, disgusting bedroom. The ominous picture repeated in her mind, over and over, until she fell into a deep sleep. But, even in her dreams, the dark image of her Doctor harassed her mind, and she wondered what could have possibly been so big of a secret that nobody, not even she, could witness it.