AN: Thanks a bunch to Laughy-Taffy the Grape and tumblr user laduelliste for being awesome:)
Most of my finals are done, so here is a chapter to celebrate!
Thanks also to all of my readers, whether you only made it through chapter 1 or have stayed until now. I really do appreciate it.
This story'll be about 6-7 chapters long.
Enjoy!
His hand was pressed against the other side of the glass window- she was locked outside the blue box. Her older self. But she was the same person. Just… not to him. Not really.
She woke up in a white room.
Her hands and feet were bound to a bed, and she was in a white gown.
There was nothing else in the room except for a small window with bars on it, a dresser, and a door.
She screamed.
"WHERE AM I? WHAT IS THIS PLACE? WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN ME, RORY? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"
She heard footsteps outside. There must've be a hallway behind the door. Were there more rooms? More people?
A hand. On the little glass window in the door.
His voice. "It's okay, Amy. You're… you're safe here."
"Rory?"
"Yeah, it's me."
Amy breathed a sigh of relief. "Come in!"
"I can't. I'm… not allowed."
"Why not? Where am I, anyways?"
"You're in a hospital. A, erm, a mental ward."
Amy stopped. "Why? I'm not mental."
"Amy, you were seeing things. Your book, you got the idea from a dream you had. It changed you. It made you very different. I… didn't know what else to do. I'm sorry. I really am."
"Is that why you punched me in the face?"
"You weren't going to come willingly."
"Spoken like a true husband of a Scot. Well done, Arthur."
"Did you just call me Arthur?"
"Yeah. It's your middle name. Figured it'd be about time I treated it like a name, not just something you put on legal documents."
"All right, Amy. I'm, uh, going to leave now."
"RORY YOU STAY."
"I've got to get back to work!"
"Fine then, but can you at least get someone to unbind me? I'm not going to hurt anyone."
"Okay. Anything else?"
"Well, if I actually am in a mental ward, then can I see my psychiatrist that I assume I have?"
"He's not in today, but I'll send you an assistant."
"I love you."
"I miss you, Amy. I'll see if I can get them to unlock this door. This is no way to keep up a marriage."
She heard him leaving and sighed.
A few minutes later, a rather short brunette girl in about her 20s opened the door with a pot of tea and some books.
"Hello, Amelia. My name is Clara." She began to unlatch the cuffs on Amy's hands and feet.
"Call me Amy, please."
"Well then, Amy. I'm filling in for your proper psychiatrist, but I've brought some things for us to go over, as well as some tea." She gestured to the pile.
"You sound really familiar," she said. "Tell me, do you like baking?"
"Yeah, but I'm rubbish."
Amy noticed the metal bracelet she was wearing. It was gold, with bronze hemispheres on it…
There were people here.
As much as that voice that followed her denied it, that they were just the monsters, the Daleks, there were people. Right in front of her.
"How many Daleks straight ahead of me?" she heard the voice say in the distance.
"Ten. Twenty. Hard to say." It was that woman over the intercom, or whatever it was. Oswin, the Carmen girl, soufflé girl.
"You're Oswin!"
The assistant's eyed widened, then reduced back to normal size. "No, my name is Clara. I like opera, technology, and baking souf-"
"I knew it! You're a Dalek! But you're dead! How, how, can you be here?"
"All right, let's move on. How about your family, yeah?"
"My mum and dad live a few hours south, and my brother…."
"What about your brother?"
"I, I don't know. I just— don't remember."
"Tell me, Amelia. Tell me about your brother."
"It's Amy."
Clara leaned into her face stubbornly. "Tell me. About Luke."
"Oh yeah. Luke! He, erm, he died in the war. Last year. Right before it ended."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's okay. What are those books you have?"
"Well, these are books Rory told me you'd enjoy."
Amy picked up the top one. "Pandora's box. And the Ancient Romans. These were my favorites as a kid."
She knew him from somewhere. The Roman in front of her. But who was he? He was important, she could tell by the way he was looking at her.
She remembered.
"Rory Williams. From Leadworth. My boyfriend." She leaned in and touched his face. "How could I ever forget you?"
"And, apparently, you like art." Reality was back in her head. Or, well, everyone else's reality. "This one is all about Van Gogh." Clara held up the book.
"I met him once."
"Really?" Clara's skeptical face made her very angry.
"Yeah. I… travelled there. After Rory died for the second time. Not in New York, but just in his, well, lifetime."
"You're sad."
"No, I'm not."
"Then why are you crying?"
They were watching the funeral procession go up the road. The one Vincent blamed himself for.
Something was wrong. With both of them. It was like the one knew the other's problems more than they knew their own.
The sunflowers shone almost too brightly through the dismal atmosphere of the sunny day.
"It was right before he, you know, killed himself. I knew it was coming. And he knew what was wrong with me, even when I didn't. He changed my life, that man. Helped me bring back Rory."
"Fascinating."
"Yeah. Shame about his life though."
"Would you care for some tea?" Clara nodded towards the teapot.
"I knew you were a Dalek."
