AN: Takes place after 5x09 Cold Blood, spoilers for that episode. Contains thoughts about character death.
A sad little one shot I thought of when I was rewatching the fifth season. None of the characters belong to me and reviews are more then welcome.
He had ordered Amy to go get some rest and for once she had actually listened to him. He had played with the thought of going to bed himself, but quickly dismissed it. He had too much on his mind.
He put the TARDIS on park and let it get caught in the gravity pull of a small planet. For a moment he simply leaned on the controls, staring at them but not really seeing them. His mind wandered to the piece of debris that was tucked away in his pocket. A piece of his TARDIS which he pulled out of the crack. It could mean only one thing.
Whenever and wherever that explosion was going to occur, ripping holes through the very fabric of the universe, his TARDIS was going to be there, right in the middle of it.
But that was nothing. An insignificant blip on his radar of emotions. He could fix that of course, he was sure of it. Stop the explosion from ever happening, save the universe and all of time and creation. Easy. He could do that with one hand tied behind his back and the other one being gnawed on by by Sybarbian chipmunks. Except that would be rather difficult and unpleasant. But that didn't matter now, because once he was there, at the right time and place, he would come up with a plan. He always had a plan. Some of them brilliant, others completely insane, most of them riding the fine line between the two.
But he had no plan for getting Rory back.
Rory Williams, the nurse from Leadworth who longed for a quite and boring life. The Doctor never thought he would end up like him. Liking him so much that it hurt, that it felt like someone had ripped one of his hearts out. But people, especially humans, had this way of sneaking up on him like that.
People died all the time and every singly time it was a tragedy. Every single death deserved to be mourned.
But this was different. This was so very, very different. He hadn't just died, he had never been born at all. Erased from the universe so that even those who had loved him the most had forgotten about him.
Amy. The Doctor wondered if she could sleep at all tonight. Some part of her, some tiny part locked away deep inside her must know. Somewhere, somehow she must feel the sorrow, the pain for losing the man she had once willingly followed into death, because she could not imagine living life without him.
Come on Amy, he pleaded in his head. Remember. Remember! But of course she wouldn't, not consciously at least. She'd be sad sometimes, seemingly for no reason and then at other times she might feel a hole there, like she was missing something but couldn't tell what it was. But she'd never know who she was missing, what wonderful man had slipped away from her.
Rory was dead to the world and it was a tragedy only the Doctor would remember. He was the only one who could mourn him.
The Doctor straightened up and took the ring box out of his pocket and held on to it tightly, almost afraid that it would disappear along with it's owner.
"I remember you, Rory. I remember." He whispered making it sound almost like a prayer amongst the blips and sounds of the TARDIS.
They say it is better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all. But the Doctor wasn't quite sure about that. But options hurt.