It's too big, his TARDIS. The Doctor never noticed before. But there are too many rooms for one man, too many spaces for him to fill all by himself. He's got his room, hardly ever uses it, that room. But there are other rooms, too many other rooms waiting in the bowls of his ship.
There's Rory and Amy's room, recently vacated, still kept close to the console room. He has to pass the pale blue door when he walks to the kitchen. He avoids the kitchen for now, until the TARDIS moves the blue door deeper into the ship. The door will stay, lingering just as Rose's white door, Martha's purple door and Donna's yellow door do.
He comes upon them when he least expects it. A nasty jolt to the hearts, a sudden spike of guilt and sadness when he sees the familiar hue. Sometimes, he peeks inside. Sees Rose's makeup spread over the counter just as it was the morning before the battle of Canary Warf. Sees an open book lying, pages side down, on the foot of Martha's bed just as it was before the year that never was. Sees a half-empty cup of tea perched on Donna's nightstand just as it was before she became the Doctor-Donna.
But most often, he passes them by. Even so, he can't help wondering what things the Ponds left behind. He wants to know what pieces of their lives were still clinging to the inside of his TARDIS. His hand goes to his pocket. Amy's afterword is still crumpled inside.
Don't be alone, she told him. He doesn't want to be alone. He wants her to be here. He wants his best friend and Rory the Roman back here. They would all have a good laugh about Rory dying again and set off through time and space for a new adventure.
There are too many things in his TARDIS. He thinks of his kitchen. The table has four chairs, one for him, one for Rory, one for Amy and one for River, when she bothered to visit. There are three mugs sitting on the counter. Too many mugs. Too many chairs. There are too many places where he could sit and too many cups he could drink from. He has had many companions before, but Rory, Amy, River…they were more than companions. They were his family. They are his family, forever. The memories of them already haunt him.
He walks away from the console room, towards the kitchen. Maybe he will throw out the extra chairs and extra mugs, burn them in the fire of a distant star. Or maybe they will stay in his TARDIS and he will be haunted by them just as he is haunted by multicolored doors.
The pale blue door stops him. He remembers Amy saying blue, Doctor…but not TARDIS blue. I wouldn't want you to get confused. The door is ajar. Light is coming from inside. The Doctor leans forward, pushes the door and makes the gap wider.
He stands in the threshold, just like he has a hundred times before. But this time, the room is empty. There is no Rory, no Amy, tangled together on the bottom bunk. They had never bothered to do away with the bunk beds. The top one was covered in spare blankets, suitcases, clothes. The Doctor pulls the reading glasses from his pocket and moves to set them on Amy's desk.
There are books scattered about the room. Amy's iPod is playing some low, strumming music from the corner. The Doctor wonders idly if it will ever stop or if it will play forever to an empty room. Rory's jacket is hanging over the arm of a chair. Amy's left some bottles of nail polish on the dresser. The various colors are bright and cheery on the lamplight. Pictures of Amy, Rory, the Doctor and River are tucked into every corner of the room. Hanging from the mirror, tacked to the walls, glinting in frames. Rory and Amy smile at him from every corner of this room.
The Doctor sets the glasses down and turns to go. There is no one thing he will remember about this room. No scattered makeup, no open books, no cold tea. This was not a place where they left one things. This was the place where they left everything.
He sits on the bottom bunk and puts his head in his hands.
Rory. Amy. His family.
All gone.
And now his TARDIS is too big and the universe is too small because he will never find people who can replace them. Amy Pond, the girl who waited. The first face his face saw. Family, home. Hiding for all eternity behind a pale blue door.
Goodbye, raggedy man. Her words are burnt into his mind like a brand. We love you, always.
And he will love them always, think of them always, miss them until his last breath.
In the end, they're just the same and so much more than others. His family. Just like the others, they've broken his hearts.
A/N: So...here's this thing, because the Angels take Manhattan made me really, really sad. Seriously. I cried. So, yes. That's where this came from. Review, favorite, all that.
Disclaimer: Nope.