Amelia Pond was sitting in a large brown chair, reading a book.
She was fairly certain she was in the library. However, it might have been the swimming pool. The Doctor had supposedly 'fixed' it, but she still found a damp book from time to time.
The library also tended to switch places with the swimming pool; and vice versa. It seemed as though the TARDIS was deliberately trying to confuse her. But she remained persistent. After all, the library was a nice place, when it wasn't underwater.
She sighed heavily, trying to force herself to relax. In the TARDIS, there were very few times when she had a chance to sleep. And while Rory had already succeeded in falling asleep, Amy was not so fortunate.
For a while, she'd stayed by the center console, listening to the Doctor babble on crazily about some bits and bobs and how they worked. And while she only understood half of what he said, she did like listening to him speak.
The only problem was, the Doctor never seemed to sleep. And while she was fine listening to him talk constantly; she knew that it would be impossible to sleep while he was around. His always-hyper, maniac attitude was incredibly infectious, and before long it would be the end of whatever night they had on the TARDIS, and she would find herself running away from a monster, only to end up in dire need of a nap while doing so. It wouldn't help anything if she passed out while they were running away from something with large teeth.
She tossed a book into a corner and pulled another one out from a shelf. To be honest, she was bored. There was nothing to do, nothing to read, nothing but dusty old books that, every so often, were completely soaked.
As she contemplated the next book she would try and read- and most likely fail- her ears pricked. A dull thud sounded out.
She whirled around, searching for the source of the noise. Her sharp eyes caught a book, lying flat on the floor.
She sighed, relieved. Being around the Doctor for so long was slightly tiring; every thud, every strange noise now seemed like a menacing threat.
She picked up the book and put it back on the shelf, shaking her head at her own paranoia.
She whirled around again as a shadow darted out of her vision. She swallowed, trying to reason with herself. The Doctor had traveled in this phone box, with its library that was also a pool, for many years. He was bound to have one or two things in the TARDIS that she didn't know about. Who knew, maybe he had a pet cat or something.
She shook her head again. Just paranoia.
Rory was sleeping.
It wasn't the normal, cat-nap kind of sleep that he got in the TARDIS, where the slightest noise woke you up in an instant, and it took hours to escape to unconsciousness again. No, he was deeply asleep.
So he was incredibly surprised when he found himself waking up. He jolted upright, his eyes staring desperately through the dark. He was sweating, but the room around him was as cold as ice.
For some reason, he was scared. There was something in this room, something dark and menacing. Traveling with The Doctor had given him an instinct for danger, and that instinct was clear and present in this moment.
The room was completely dark, and the only sound he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. There wasn't even the sound of a clock; the Doctor didn't allow them. Something about France and wigs. Rory found it best if he didn't ask.
He stopped breathing for a moment, listening intently. The room was absolutely silent. The noise from the TARDIS engines didn't even reach into this room. It was quiet to the point of unnerving, and his heart worked to change that, pounding loudly in his ears.
He slowly turned on the light, his eyes scanning the room. Nothing. He was alone.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. There was nothing there. He was just being paranoid.
Still, he left the light on as he placed his head back on the pillows. Best to play it safe.
The Doctor was still babbling, despite his lack of an audience. Even he didn't know quite what he was saying, which, to him, meant that he was doing it exactly right.
He poked the sonic screwdriver at a control, watching it light up in fascination. He turned the green light to his own face, then stumbled backwards, surprised by the intensity.
"BLINDED!" He cried, tripping over his own feet and landing solidly on his back. With a practiced, fluid motion, he was back on his feet, looking around.
"That didn't happen." He said matter-of-factly, then turned back to the TARDIS console.
The hair stood up on his arms and the back of his neck. A shiver traveled down his spine, and he swallowed.
"Now that's strange." He whispered, abruptly serious. The last time he felt this way was when…
He dashed over to the view screen.
He switched the view to one he knew well. He hadn't visited this particular place in a long time, and he didn't, in all truth, care to.
But there was nothing different about this place than there had been every other time he'd seen it. A man sat inside a cold stone room, tossing electricity from hand to hand. The motion was so constant that The Doctor would have worried it was on a loop, had this not been a Lictrosian anti-loop double eight Teka Camera. It was the most expensive video camera in the whole of time and space, unless you'd saved the planet of Lictrosia from being swallowed by a Teker death ant.
He stared at the screen for a very long time, unable to shake the uneasy feeling he had. The last time he'd seen this man, he'd promised to escape. And the Doctor had agreed; in fact, he'd never been more certain of anything in his life.
Finally, he switched it off, sitting down on the bench.
Perhaps the time had finally come.
A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a story that uses Eleven as the Doctor. Any help with his/Amy's/Rory's characters is welcome. Thank you!