Before the Worst
Disclaimer: I don't own Dr Who or any of its related property. I write to entertain and make no profit after this work.
Warnings: suicide attempt, depression
AN: Set after The rings of Akhaten (S7 Ep8). Tag to that episode because there is no way The Doctor was okay after that. Brief mentions of Clara at the start but not a main character. It's not a Clara fic so don't worry. Amy and Rory are main characters. References to Amy and Rory's last episode. Title from the song by The Script (I don't own that either).
Also to my Mea Culpa readers: I am working on that soon. I just need the inspiration to get in Ginny's mind set. I haven't forgotton about My gay Wedding either. Or my new Atlantis works.
START
The Doctor and Clara had saved the day. Clara had watched with concern as her new friend seemed worse off than he pretended. He was tired but that was to be expected. He was definitely weaker but he refused to show it. By the way his winced and brushed a hand over his head ("I hate it when my hair is in my eyes!" he exclaimed), he had a headache. He didn't stay still enough for her to confirm but he did seem disoriented.
When he had dropped her home, the mask had quickly slipped off. He had felt her scrutiny. The young female genius's emotions were always so clear. She had worried for him. Well the effects of the god feeding in him were hidden as best he could. He felt weaker, making him feel vulnerable. He was not accustomed to it. It wasn't right. Didn't feel close to right.
His headache had become a migraine at some point in the last hour. He struggled to hide it and even his feeble excuse was worse than usual. He was dizzy. He was sure he had managed to hide that better though. His focus was worse than usual. Even the hyperactive focus of a five year old standard of his usual was better than this.
The Tardis made a high pitch whining like sound. He smiled fondly. "I know Sexy. I'll try sleep." he said softly.
She worried about him. But she knew the physical wasn't the worst of the problems her thief had sustained. The mental wounds had been reopened.
The timewar. The last great timewar echoed in his head. The sounds of screams of timelord children. The sounds of timelord's fighting for family and planet. The sounds of the darleks familiar cries of "Exterminate" and lasers.
The anguished sobs of parents that had lost children. Or friends that had lost other friends. Or even children who had lost parents.
The devastating howls of those over the dead bodies of children or friends or parents.
Then there was the man who knew how to end it all. Who had taken the steps needed.
The memories long locked away were now consuming her thief.
She knew she had to help.
Could she break through without shattering New York? Her thief no matter how desperate, would never forgive her for that! She thought through her options. Maybe there was a way...
The Doctor was exhausted but even as he sank into his bed, he could not push away his thoughts.
Sleeping was out of the question. What kind of man was his? He didn't deserve sleep. His people were gone. The timelords.
All his fault.
If he had stopped there, he might be only be half the monster he was. He had committed genocides into his many short by timelord standards yet ancient to human standard lives he had lived.
All his fault. What a monster you are!
The timelord felt tears run down his face. How many mothers lost children because of him? How many fathers lost heirs because of him? How many children were orphaned because of him?
All his fault. Too many. Too many!
Yet he did not stop even there. His skill of destroying lives had been used again.
So alone he was. So in need of comfort. So he had found humans. He had called his new friends "companions". They had loved him. They had revered him. They had feared him. They had looked to him to guide them.
Such a lonely god. Wasn't that was Madame De Pompedore had called you? God? Yes. Lonely? Yes. Still a god. So much power to destroy. So much destruction. Because you wanted to save the humans. Because you wanted human company and to sooth you pain. Or because you were...what did you say to Amy? The vain old fool? You wanted to be adored? Yes something like that.
So was it worth it?
Was all your adoration worth this suffering. All your comfort? All your companionship?
He wept anew. Rose. The human he had loved. Martha. The young medical student who dreamed of being a doctor. Donna. The human who had been made a timelord but then to forget everything. She would not even recognise him. If she did she would die. Jack. The man that couldn't die. The fixed point.
All your children of time. All becoming weapons of your making. Almost destroying the earth in your name.
Then Amy. His sweet Amelia that believed as only a child could. Then believed as only a betrayed adult could. Rory. The nurse from Leadworth who wanted to become a doctor. The human kind of course.
Rory had seemed out of place and he was. His medical skills and his soft human nature that was caring but so careful was at odds with them. Then he had been made to live far beyond his time as a human. He had "died" several times. He had become a warrior. Often the warrior in him won out over his nurse side. The once soft kind nurse had let death and suffering bounce off his new armour as a warrior. Was that really a good thing?
You ruined them.
The Doctor weighed his sins against the good he had done like he had many times before. He knew the answer before he had thought about it. So when he checked again it was clear.
Nothing would outweigh his sins. The only acceptable action was death. At least in death, his fallen could find some peace.
So he grabbed a knife with a manic grin.
The Tardis was whirring away but he was too far gone to care. Sure he noticed but it wasn't as vital as this knife and what tearing open his veins would do.
He took a moment to observe the sharp blade and his pale untouched flesh. He smiles at the thought of bright red blood contrasting sharply. Like in that Earth story...Snow white. Well similar enough to him.
He smiles as the blade runs against his skin splitting it open. Drops of blood run and drop onto the floor. That would take time to get out. He laughs at the thought. Ghosts don't clean. Not that anyone else could even drive his ship.
His ship would die with him. He stops his actions. Did he really want to bring his ship down with him?
What about his friends? He imagined Rose's tear filled eyes. That hurts him more than he admits. He imagines Martha's stubborn insisting that he lives. Knowing she might be able to save him. Knowing that she loved him. He can see Amy's disbelieving eyes, can see her hidden tears as he hears her demand he live. He can feel Rory's cool hands and soft voice. Reassuring and commanding.
He knows they are his angels. They could never be real. After all 3 of them were not even in his universe or time! They are created in his mind to send him on his way.
DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW
The Tardis had landed in New York. Her thief needed his Ponds, so he would give them to him. She had found an opening. This way her thief could not be angry and she could help him. Getting out would be a matter of waiting for the next opening.
Amy noticed the box first. Immeaditly she felt too many emotions to even communicate to her husband. Relief at seeing her friend. Concern that he had sacrificed New York for her. Anger that he had been stupid enough to risk everything to see her.
Rory had mentioned it first. Why wasn't he coming out?
Amy had began to worry then.
The Tardis had let them in, guiding them with flickering lights to his room.
Rory POV:
Where is he? Stepping into the Tardis, I can't even hear him. A silent Doctor isn't a good thing!
Amy follows me looking equally confused and worried. The Tardis sounds awful as well.
That worried me more because I know they are connected.
The flickering lights guide us to a room we never noticed. That must be his room. I get a bad feeling.
I see him and my heart stops. Amy yells and demands he wakes up. Demands he live.
He doesn't seem to even react to her which only worries me further. I force myself to focus on the scene so I can help him. A small knife has fallen beside him. Blood runs from cuts on his wrists and I see drops on the floor. He looks pale and is unfocussed. He is aware of his surroundings. Yet he doesn't react to us.
I wrap his cuts gently. He look safe to move so I carry him onto the bed to rest. Maybe he will be more aware when his awake. Its all I can hope for.
The Tardis gave a comforting hum as her thief slept peacefully. She had given him his Ponds.
AN: Read and review as usual