Not my storyline. Stolen, call me a thief if you will.
Pairing: Doctor/Rose, slight Doctor/Amy, but not really. It's there if you see it.
Disclaimer: The only things I own in the world are stashed in my bedroom, and a dog, which is not stuffed in my room, in case you were calling RSPCA. The characters, storyline and whole industry of Doctor Who are not mine, I can assure you. Steven Moffat, you are a lucky man. Treat these characters well because well, they're the only reason you get any money
"I'll tell you one thing, though."
"What?"
"That must be one scary crack in your wall."
Amelia's room was strangely homely for him. Perhaps it was the shade of blue that filled her room, or the preparation gone into a room that he guessed not many people entered - much like his own room as a child. At ninety years old, not many people had seen his room - only his mother. He thinks, anyway. He knew he had a job to do now, to protect this little girl from the danger that this wall held. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. The sonic screwdriver beeped away while he read the readings on the side. Not good - very, very not good.
"Take me back!"
"Excuse me, did you say something?" He asked her, turning to face her, but the child shook her head to say no. Being the Doctor, he dismissed it. Always dismissing things; stupid man.
"Take me back! Take me back..." The voice whimpered, mascara-streaked words."Now, no, you said something! You definitely said something!"
She shook her head again, so he ran to her bed-side table and picked up her glass, tipping the contents onto her carpet. His eyes told her he was sorry.
He pressed his ear to the bottom, and he filled the cup with her broken wall, listening hard. What he heard haunted, hurt and taunted him. It broke him. Laughed in his face. Screamed her words. Cried. He cried. He wanted too, anyway.
"Rose..."
"Who's Rose?" Amelia asked, with one eyebrow cocked towards the stars whilst her mouth hung open. It was as though he'd cheated on her. A messy relationship with a seven year old was not what he needed. Plus it was wrong, really wrong.
"What? Nobody! For a seven year old, your hearing is terrible! You are seven aren't you? Or are you eight? You look seven, but then again, so did a very angry Polaang that I met a few years back. Steve he was called, I think... He was not happy when I'd offered to find his mother for him; I thought I was being nice, but it turns out he has a thing with people commenting on his height. Never make that mistake! Messy race, the Polaang. Never get into a fight with one of them; they bite. I know, still got the scar."
Amelia stood dumb-founded, shocked even as he rambled on. She picked up a stool that sat by her bed and placed it in front of him.
"What are you doi-"
You see, Amelia Pond is a very impatient little girl, and she had climbed on that stool and planted her hand directly over his mouth, shutting him up.
"Can you fix it?"
He slapped her hand away.
"You Scottish folk are so...yes, I can, but unless you stop being so demanding I can't get a thing done. So, if you'd excuse me, I have a life to save."
He walked away then, turning his attention to the other end of the wall, where the crack began, or ended, who knows. The voice still cried, Rose still cried for him, begging him to come get her and save her and love her and whisk her away, but he couldn't. She was gone. He was here now, with the fairytale girl who can't cook very well and eats apples even though she doesn't like them, simply because they have a face picked into them. That is the human race summed up in one little Scottish child. Rose lived on, somewhere else with her family and she was safe.
"Prisoner zero has escaped."
I know the ending probably doesn't make sense to you, but I have a very complicated storyline that is linked to that last line, so look out for it. I reaaaaaaaally hope you enjoyed that.