Is this chapter ten already? Wow, I both feel like I've written more than this and hardly written this much at all. It's been interesting, to say the least. At any rate, this is a chapter I've been sort-of planning on writing for a while, so I'm sorry if it doesn't address a specific request. I will be getting back to those next chapter. Anyway, on with the fic!

Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock

Chapter Ten

She'd slept so soundly the night before, Amy felt nothing could spoil her good mood this morning. Not if she found the Doctor on the Wii again, not if he'd turned their house into a Cube Labyrinth, not even if he'd brought the Ood back to visit. Fortunately, when she did wake up, none of those things had happened.

She should have known it wouldn't be him that would cause her grief today. Life just did that to her.

Amy was lazing about on the sofa. Rory had left for work after making breakfast. The Doctor had been quite put out when she had allowed her husband to cook, and so was sulking on the couch next to her with his arms crossed.

The relative peace of the morning was shattered by their doorbell. They turned to each other with questioning looks. After all, while it was her and Rory's house, the last unexpected visitor they'd had had been for the Doctor. Even so, she felt it best that he not answer the door. With a sigh, Amy entered the front hall as the shrill tone of the bell sounded again.

"Alright, alright," she grumbled under her breath. But her sour expression wasn't likely to scare away who was at the door. "Angela! Patricia! What a- er –surprise."

"Good morning, Amy," Patricia Crawley said sweetly. The Crawleys lived next door to Angela Langley and her family and right across the street from the Pond residence. It was the one about the house the Doctor had given them that wasn't perfect.

She didn't find Angela or Patricia to be mean. Oh no, quite the opposite—they were very nice. Too nice. Nice to the point of it making her sick. And it was as if they existed to be nothing but neighbors. When it was nice out, the two could be seen calling over the fence to each other while they gardened, she always saw one or both when she went to the shops, and they took turns hosting the neighborhood Christmas party. And they always, always had their children with them. Why on Earth they were on her doorstep at this moment, she had no clue.

"Morning?" Angela was laughing a little, "It's nearly afternoon!"

"Right," she agreed, not entirely sure what else to say. Amy then managed to paste a polite smile on her face. "Well, come in. I suppose you both already ate—but I think we've got crackers or pretzels if David or Ellie want something." The little boy in Angela's arms hardly understood, but Ellie Crawley stopped hiding behind her mother's legs as much.

"Oh, no thank you," Patricia said, shaking her head at her daughter when she tugged at her skirt, her brown tresses swaying back and forth. "I don't want to ruin her appetite."

"Ah, I see," Amy replied, nodding along to the other woman's words and doing her best not to notice the girl's disappointed face. "Well then, what brings you here?"

When the two exchanged a glance, she knew that had been a bit too blunt, but Amy was quickly becoming impatient. And they hadn't even reached the end of the hall. That didn't bode well.

"Well, I was just saying to Patricia the other day, 'You know who we haven't talked to in ages? Amy Williams,'" Angela explained with a large smile, all straight, white teeth and pale, pink glossy lips.

"Yes, and it's been quite some time, and we're all a little curious, yet you haven't introduced that guest of yours to anyone aside from Angela, and that was by chance," Patricia added, turning a little pink and looking away when the other woman frowned ever so slightly to indicate that had been less than sensitive.

"We just thought we ought to welcome him since he seems to be staying a while. We don't want to appear rude, after all," the honey-blonde woman recovered for her friend.

"Oh," was all Amy could say. She hadn't even thought of it before, but they had sort of been doing that. Her and Rory, hiding the Doctor away. Even the few times he had interacted with the people they knew, like at their wedding or anniversary, they'd done their best to keep him isolated- not that he didn't do a good enough job of that already –to keep their lives separate. They just couldn't help it.

How could the imaginary friend of a fantasy world survive real life?

By using Rule One.

"Er, John?" She called uncertainly, quite sure this was going to be awkward and very hard to explain. But she'd never really appreciated his acting skills before.

"Yes, Amy?" The Doctor emerged from the sitting room, not wearing something ridiculous on his head, not wielding their eggbeater or something else, and looking- aside from the bowtie –like an average man. His eyes lit upon their guests. "Oh, hello—Angela, wasn't it?" He joined them and waited for her to adjust her hold on the child in her arms in order to shake her hand. "And there's little David. Hello," the alien held out his finger for the infant to hold as David giggled and babbled in response. Perhaps he was saying hello back- she could never quite tell if the Time Lord had been serious about speaking baby.

"Yes, Angela Langely," the woman was saying, but though he nodded he wasn't really paying attention. Instead, he smiled down at the little girl who, fascinated as all children were by his warm, open voice and expression, had once more poked her head out from behind Patricia.

"And who might you be?" He asked, crouching down so that he was directly before her.

"I'm Ellie," the child said, smiling shyly. Somehow, his own grin grew bigger.

"Ellie! Well that's a wonderful name." Amy had to smile, unable to help recalling when he'd said nearly the same thing to her all those years ago. Yet it did not sound any less sincere.

"Say thank you to the nice man, Ellie," the girl's mother prompted in a hushed near-whisper, the silly smile on her face quite clearly showing she was just as charmed by the Doctor as her daughter.

"Thank you," Ellie repeated dutifully, and he fondly tapped her on the nose before standing up to shake Patricia's waiting hand.

"John Smith," he greeted.

"Oh yes- Angela mentioned. I'm Patricia Crawley. My house is right across from Amy," the woman introduced.

"Is it?" He inquired just as any polite person might, and the whole group continued into the sitting room.

"Yes, it's simply appalling we haven't met yet, seeing as you've been visiting with the Williams for- how long, exactly?" The Doctor blinked, and she could see him backtracking through the days in his head, but Angela interrupted with a question of her own.

"What is it that you do for a living, Mr. Smith, that they give you so much time off?"

Her friend still looked thrown by the first question, and so Amy did her best to answer for him. "John, um, does a lot with- er, negotiations." When he raised an eyebrow at her with a bewildered look, she turned away to solely address the two women. "And when people- I mean, companies don't need him, he travels. But this time he's staying a bit closer to home."

"That sounds exciting," the blonde commented lightly from her position settled on the couch with Patricia, Ellie fidgeting in between.

"Oh, it is," he assured. "Would either of you ladies like something to drink? Tea, coffee?"

"Tea is fine," Angela said for both of them, and the alien retreated to the kitchen.

"Quite a gentleman," Patricia remarked in obvious approval.

"Yes," her other neighbor agreed, "Did he and Rory stay in touch after you moved from Leadworth?"

"Yes, but John's both Rory and my friend," Amy corrected, "Actually, I met him first." The two women shared another look, and she tried to distract herself with something else to do besides rolling her eyes. "Ellie, I'm not sure how much we have in the way of toys, but I'm sure we have some old picture books." The little girl, who had been swinging her legs back and forth in pure boredom, hopped off the couch and followed her eagerly to the shelf. "Ok, what sort of books do you like? Adventure?"

"I like princesses," she told her. Amy smiled.

"I like princesses, too. And I know just the book," she selected Rory's old book of fairytales that the Doctor had rejected the night before, relatively sure that the human child would have no such issues. As expected, Ellie settled down on the floor and began to flip through the pages, studying each picture with rapt attention. David was looking jealous at the perceived favoritism, so Amy snatched a cube off the coffee table and gave it to him to play with. "Kids…they're a handful, right?" She asked, more to break the silence as she retook her seat across from them.

"Yes, but we manage," Patricia said, adding, "and you do so well, Amy. Rory's an excellent nurse, too. It's such a shame—oh!" The brunette gasped in horror at the stricken look on her face, and Angela had gone very pale. Amy felt the breath had caught in her throat, and though she struggled to release it, to say something, do something, she couldn't. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Amy, I didn't mean- it was just so devastating when we heard about it—" It had been devastating for them? What did they have to do with any of it?

"You're wonderful with children, Amy," Angela attempted to intercede. "And you and Rory are two of the nicest people. We only wish- well, to raise a child and care for them, it's such a gift." Why did they have to keep talking? Couldn't they see that she didn't want them to talk about it?

"I know," she managed, trying to convey with those two words that it was done. Still, Angela opened her mouth again, but was interrupted.

"She really does. I think Amy's been taking care of me since she was seven," the Doctor said, walking in with a tray of four cups. It might have been mere coincidence that the tea had been ready at that point, but the look in the Time Lord's eyes of complete concern as he studied her made her think not.

Injecting himself back into the conversation was the very distraction they'd needed, and the two women seized on it, still quite interested in the enigmatic John Smith. She took the time to turn and compose herself, wiping furiously at eyes that stung with hot, unshed tears.

"So you and Amy grew up together?" Patricia asked, and his eyes widened.

"Oh, ehm, yes?" The alien responded, and she at last relaxed at the bewildered expression he wore. For the sake of his cover story, John Smith had grown up in Leadworth, but the idea that the Doctor had grown up with her and Rory was near-laughable. Of course, the reality that their daughter had grown up with them instead was no less ridiculous. And hadn't they cared for Mels? But they hadn't held her in their arms like little David.

"But surely you've got a family of your own to rely on? Even with all the travelling," Angela pressed, and he floundered a bit again.

"Well, it's, er—"

"He does," she answered firmly, and nodded ever so slightly at the surprised, yet happy smile that appeared on his face.

When the conversation eventually changed to idle neighborhood gossip, the Doctor wandered over to Ellie, sitting down and listening to her talk about what she'd been reading and looking at. Finally, the women made their excuses, still visibly uncomfortable with the earlier accident, and Amy showed them and their children out.

The strength she'd barely been able to uphold crumbled as she shut the door behind them, and she collapsed against it, the tears falling freely now. The Doctor had followed her though, and his arms wrapped around her shaking frame and pulled her to him.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, and she felt his head shake above her and knew he was telling her not to apologize. "I just- every time they all get together for a birthday, or it's time to sign the kids up for sports, and they just look at me, you know? They look at me, and Rory, and I- I just don't- I don't want their pity." He half-led, half-carried her back to the sitting room, and then she was curled up like a helpless child on his lap, head resting against his chest as she wept. But he just sat on the sofa with one arm around her and the other combing soothingly through her hair.

"I wish I'd never told them," she sniffled. "They asked, and I- but I should've- I wish I hadn't said anything." Amy thought perhaps he intended to just wait her sobbing out silently, but then she felt his chest rise with the intake of a deep breath.

"Her name was Susan."

"Who?"

"My granddaughter," he replied simply, and her heart clenched painfully, that air suddenly hard to obtain once again.

"Why?" She breathed, and he somehow understood just what she meant.

"Because you asked, Amelia." Some sound was torn from deep within her, rising on a tide up her throat and bursting from her lips as a something stuck between a moan and a cry. Amy didn't want him to feel he had to do this for her, didn't want him to drown himself in his own sorrows in some twisted way to make her feel better.

But the Doctor continued, voice shaking lightly as though he couldn't believe his own daring in giving words to the secrets he held in his hearts. "She was smart and kind, and had an endless amount of patience where I was concerned," he chuckled, but it lacked in any sort of amusement. "Susan was the very first, the first companion I ever took with me to see the universe, when it was brand new to the both of us…and she was the first to leave." His hand had stopped its comforting movement through her hair, and she was tempted to look up at his face, yet fearful of what she might find.

"I think that might have been why I let her go so easily- I don't think I'd be able to now. I—" But his voice faltered and died. "She should have been my world—but I was so foolish," he whispered the words into her hair, and when Amy risked a peek she found that her friend's eyes were squeezed shut, yet some wetness had still leaked out from the corners.

"Don't," she finally regained her voice, and his eyes snapped open to stare at her. "Please, I don't—it's too painful for you…I understand now." All that curiosity she'd had when first starting out, first getting to know him. And he was actually telling her what she'd wanted to know, what she'd always wanted to know, but she couldn't bear to hear it. She realized now why he'd never said a word.

Neither spoke for a very long time, clinging to each other because that was what they needed.

OoO

Rory came home from work to find a note on the coffee table written by the Doctor, explaining he had put Amy to bed after a rather trying day, and that he was doing maintenance on the TARDIS should the Ponds need him. When he stuck his head into their bedroom just to check on her, his wife was beginning to stir, so he waited for her to wake up.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," she replied, and he frowned upon noting that her voice sounded a bit thick and her eyes were rather bloodshot still. She was frowning as well, but more in confusion than anything else. "How did I get—oh. Where is he?"

"In the TARDIS, fixing something-or-other. Well, I haven't actually seen him, but he left a note." She nodded. "Said you'd had a 'trying day'."

Amy bit her lip a moment. "Yeah."

"Want to talk about it?" He offered, but she sighed.

"I just want you here, Rory. That's all I need."

So the Ponds held each other and drifted off to sleep as the Doctor sat in his ship alone.

Sorry, I went back to sad…anyway, I hope you guys aren't too depressed. Still, I hope you enjoyed the read, keep telling me your suggestions, thanks for taking the time and please review!