Set just after The Doctor's Wife in season 6. Exploring the Doctor's sense of loss, mainly from Rory's perspective. This is going to be a little more angsty and less goofy than my usual stories - I hope you enjoy! Please read and review, I would love to hear your thoughts.
Chapter One
1
They were running for their lives. Again. Rory almost couldn't remember what from this time. Was it the ravenous beetles from Kadoon? No, that was last week. Was it an angry horde of medieval peasants who considered them witches? No, that was the day before yesterday. What day was it again? Oh right. It was the tentacle creature from the cavern on Beta 6. The one who wasn't supposed to be there, in the supposedly uninhabited crystal-growing caverns that were one of the wonders of the supposedly uninhabited portion of the galaxy.
Right then, back to the running.
In front of him, just as his lungs were beginning to burn, the TARDIS finally came into view, parked on the ledge next to the waterfall, right where they'd left it. The Doctor whipped out the key and pulled Amy and Rory inside, quickly, and just in time as a huge tentacled arm shot out and splatted on the wood of the door as it shut behind them.
"Ha!" the Doctor cried, spinning around in triumph. "Well, we showed him, eh?"
Rory didn't comment. Amy loved the running, for certain, and most of the time Rory did too, but they both agreed that the Doctor had gotten a little more reckless lately. Ever since the visit to the sentient asteroid that revealed Idris, the soul of the TARDIS, to him. The visit that let him finally speak to and feel a deeper connection with his beloved ship. And then took her away.
2
"He's lonely, Rory," Amy said as they lounged on their bed later that night. "Can't you see it in his eyes?"
Rory thought on that. In spite of everything they'd been through, he still didn't feel like he knew the Doctor well. Not as well as Amy by any means, but regardless, the Doctor's sense of loss when Idris dissipated back into the ship had been blindingly apparent, even to him. He had looked downright broken, defeated. Both Rory and Amy had instinctively kept silent as he mastered the emotions racing through him in that moment, his grief somehow too large for their small words.
"We need to help him," Amy said, yawning in spite of herself. Too much running made for easy sleep, and she was out moments later. Rory, however, lay awake into the night. Two thousand years of waiting had taught him a thing or two about loneliness, about loss and guilt and the pain of being alone in the world. It had also taught him patience. He would figure out a way to help, no matter what. It was just a matter of waiting for an opening.
3
The next day they visited the court of the Enlightened Rulers of Sondrien Majorica, five thousand years in the future. The Sondriens were a peaceful race who communicated mainly by singing, with the occasional telepathy thrown in.
"This is like being trapped in an opera," Amy complained, which earned her a stern look from the Doctor. These were a beautiful people, he explained, among the most advanced in the universe. Their entire culture was based on a barter system that involved trading ephemeral works of beauty for needed goods and services. This was the one place in the universe that a song was worth more than a bag of gold.
"Try not to be a philistine, Pond, just for one night," he said. The Doctor bopped her on the nose, gently, to let her know the taunt wasn't meant harshly.
Amy harumphed, but she settled back on the silken cushions they'd been provided with at the banquet and tried to enjoy herself. Rory had a much easier time accepting the pace of the evening's entertainments. For once, no one died, no one tried to kill them. Rory considered those the base requirements for a good evening, and was satisfied that for once those requirements showed every appearance of being met.
The Sondrien people viewed the Doctor as a great hero, and they feted him accordingly. Sondrien girls in their pale blue robes brought them small fruits that looked like grapes but tasted like bananas, and young men brought them platters of bread and a pale, golden cheese that sparkled effervescently in the mouth. Wine, or something like it, flowed. And, of course, the music was a constant murmur all around them.
Rory watched the Doctor, and felt like he saw the concrete set of his shoulders ease a tad. Something in his jaw unclenched, his eyes warmed watching the Sondrien people bring out their best for him. He and the Enlightened Rulers consulted throughout the night, sharing melodic repartee and point-and-counterpoint plainsong conversation.
"Amy, I think he's relaxed," Rory whispered at one point.
Amy smiled and fed him a grape. "I know," she agreed. "I think this is a good thing."
He thought about pointing out that this was also the first night in recent memory in which no one had tried to kill them, but he didn't think it was a good idea to taunt the universe that way.
4
Whatever effect the Sondriens had on the Doctor, it was brief. As they walked back to the ship in the gathering evening, soft clouds of firefly-like creatures winking around them to light their way, the Doctor moved from being outright talkative to being slightly reserved to being mostly monosyllabic. By the time the ship came into view he was downright unresponsive. Amy and Rory both felt the change, but felt powerless to stop it. Amy slid her hand into the Doctor's the way she had a thousand times, but he didn't respond to her squeeze and soon found a reason to move his hand away.
He shook them off shortly after they entered the TARDIS, urging them to pop off to bed and all but escorting them there in a whirlwind of frenetic activity, then disappeared deep into the bowels of the ship muttering something about repairs.
"He's getting worse," Rory said.
What could they do? Amy knew he needed to talk, but getting the Doctor to open up about his feelings was never an easy proposition. Even with his volatile emotions, he so easily slipped behind his mask, calm and equitable and game for anything, his eyes kindly but distant. It was hard for anyone to break through when he didn't want them to do so. After all this time, Amy still knew so little about him. Getting to really know the Doctor was like a game of hide and seek, carefully watching and listening for the words behind the words, noticing the silences and understanding their meaning, catching the glimmers of emotion that broke through.
Rory heaved himself up off of the bed. "I'm going to try to find him," he announced. "See if he will talk to me. I am a nurse, after all. If someone's suffering, I can't just sit here and watch."
Amy kissed him gently. "You're the best," she said quietly. "Good luck."