Episode: The Lives and Times of the Raggedy Doctor and Amelia Pond
Chapter: The Girl Who Grew Up [2/5]
Summary: Amelia wanted someone to fix the crack in her wall. Rory wanted someone to look at the pictures. The Atraxi wanted to recapture Prisoner Zero. Eventually, everyone got what they wanted, though not in the way they wanted it. They got the Raggedy Doctor instead. Or the one where the Master wanted to fix the TARDIS but ended up saving the Earth.
Rating: T
With a handkerchief covering his lower face, the Master rushes out of the TARDIS and shuts the door at his back.
There, engines stabilized. The only thing left now, which isn't exactly nothing, is to let the TARDIS take care of the repairs on her own. He checked there was nothing else he could do, but as things are right now, he can't even be inside without triggering his respiratory bypass unless he wants to choke in the fumes. Besides, it isn't like he can actually see anything, nor does he know enough about TARDISes to do much, so he'll just have to be patient and wait for her to deal with this on her own.
The Master has his own problems to take care of, anyway.
Amelia Pond, a human girl, of all creatures. If he had to be found after the crash-landing, why a human, and why a little girl? Blimey, what he wouldn't have given to crash in the Arctic instead, or, even better, not Earth at all.
… Well, he got food out of the encounter, so not all is bad, but…
"A bloody mystery, dealing with an escaped prisoner of the Shadow Proclamation on a Class 5 planet, of all things," he grumbles, shaking his handkerchief to get rid of anything that may be on it before pocketing it. "Why did I agree to this? I'm not—"
He cuts himself before he can finish that sentence, freezing mid-step and glaring at the grass under his feet.
No, he's not – him, but the Master is not a complete monster, no matter what they say. A little girl, not even eight, all alone and terrified of a crack in her bedroom wall?
The Master remembers another little girl, hair and eyes as dark yet shiny as dark star alloy, as much a spitfire as this one, who was always dragging him everywhere 'for adventures, not because I'm scared, because I'm not'. Another little girl, with little hands that clung to him as much as Amelia's warm ones did.
That little girl had grown up and they'd slowly drifted apart, busy with their own jobs, long before he had stolen a TARDIS and left Gallifrey. Amelia deserves as much of a chance as his daughter had.
Which is one of the reasons he had noticed the perception filter on the second door in front of the stairs but hadn't thought about how in Skaro a human house had a perception filter on a room with how primitive the species was. He'd been so shocked by having a small girl dragging him around by his hand once more, babbling about something as nonsensical as the pretty view out of her bedroom window, that his brains had registered the perception filter but hadn't realized the implications until they read the message in the psychic paper.
And, come to think of it, what was with the huge security holo-camera that had stared at them through the crack? That didn't look like something the Shadow Proclamation would have in their intergalactic prisons… Then again, it's been a while since he last had the chance to update his information. Sure, he'd done his homework during the Year That Never Was, but prison security in planets belonging to the Shadow Proclamation hadn't been on his to-check list.
Ah, whatever. Time to kick down some doors and capture an escaped criminal.
The Master would laugh at the irony, but the view when he finally looks up at the house stops him. It's daytime. He left at nighttime, promised he would be back in five minutes. In his timeline, it has only been four minutes and forty-seven seconds, but here it is—
"Ten twenty in the morning?! Skaro aflame, you Rassilon-forsaken piece of junk! I said five minutes!" he shouts at the TARDIS before rushing to the garden door once a quick look turns up a blatant lack of tiny red-haired seven-and-a-half-year-old human girl. "Amelia! If you're in there, go wait by the box!" he shouts, but judging by how he has to sonic the door open, he hopes she's at school or wherever tiny human brats go when they don't have classes to attend. "Amelia's Aunt, if you're there, get out of the house!" he forces himself to add as he bolts up the stairs, because that woman is the only family Amelia has left and the Master won't be the reason she ends up alone.
The second door in front of the stairs is still hidden behind the perception filter, but he's a Time Lord. So, he just stops in front of it and starts fiddling with the screwdriver's settings, cursing it under his breath all the while—
Something creaks at his back and the Master whirls around with wide eyes, cursing himself for assuming everyone was out of the house and not paying attention to his surroundings when he knows there's something not-human in here—
He receives a hard hit on his temple and he knows no more.
It's the Doctor, the Raggedy Doctor, he came back. Only, no, it can't be him, because he's just a figment of little Amelia's imagination, conjured to help her find solace in the long nights she spent alone, to chase away the voices of the monsters in the walls, escaped convicts from the alien Shadow Prison, a place so dark that the guards were nothing more than giant eyeballs so they would be able to see.
The Raggedy Doctor would come then, in a box that was a time machine in disguise, always looking ragged and with his time machine smoking because of all of the adventures he lived through, one after the other. He would be as grumpy as any TV police inspector, but he would always help the people who called for him. He would smile at sad people and they would immediately feel better, because 'everything's better with a smile', but it was hard to get a smile out of him. He always worked really hard to fix all the bad things in the world, with only a bunch of long and strange words and his screwdriver of light, with which he could open and close doors to different planets. He knew of Fairies and Martians and all of the planets in the universe, and he had a magic paper on which the messages of the people who needed his help wrote themselves and glowed blue. And wherever he went, he never asked for payment, he just wanted a meal in return. He didn't like apples or vanilla ice-cream, but he loved fish fingers and ham-and-cheese sandwiches, and he was as great a cook as he was a doctor, because he'd been doing this grownup stuff since he was eight years old. He was so good, in fact, that people only ever called him the Doctor, because everyone knew who they were talking about and no one even realized they didn't know his name, so no one asked.
A mysterious and grumpy hero, who sometimes didn't feel like helping but that always came through in the end and could never leave people hurting or scared behind. The kind of character a strong-willed seven-and-a-half-year-old girl would create to keep her company during lonely days and nights, someone who would take her on magical adventures and banter with her instead of just follow like a puppy, because only people older than eight could do grownup stuff, but they could have seven-year-old companions to help them solve all the mysteries of the galaxy and protect the weak and scared from creepy criminals born in a world of darkness.
The Raggedy Doctor had been Amelia Pond's best friend, but at the end of the day, he'd only been an imaginary friend.
It had taken many years and four psychiatrists for Amy Pond to realize that, no matter how much it had hurt. The Raggedy Doctor, her imaginary friend, had promised he would be back in five minutes so they could catch the escaped Prisoner Zero from the Shadow Prison.
He had never come back.
Aunt Sharon had been really mad about the mess in the kitchen, more so when she realized Amelia had fried stuff, which meant a lot of splashing hot oil she could have got burn with. No matter what Amelia had told the Doctor, Aunt Sharon never let her do anything more complicated than stir or prepare sandwiches, and she was always supervised whenever she wanted to help next to the fire.
And the least was said about the mess that was the shed, the better.
But now, here he is, handcuffed to the radiator in the corridor, in front of Amy's room, after breaking and entering, and looking exactly as he had been that day twelve years ago, down to the sleeves pulled up his arms and the rips in his clothes.
The Raggedy Doctor.
Amy remembers the most horrible parties she's ever had to pull a job at, tries to put together some of the calm she used then, and leans against the railing in what she hopes is a calm and collected stance. She's wearing her constable uniform, the mock radio in hand to fake a call for reinforcements as soon as she sees him stir back into consciousness, and forces herself to breathe.
It's a coincidence, just a coincidence. The Raggedy Doctor is the most well-known character in Leadworth, thanks to Amy's childhood of adventures and games and cartoons and hand-made dolls, so maybe someone thought it would be funny to try to commit a crime dressed like that. It's all-black clothing and some blond hair dye, nothing too complicated, anyway. Anyone could pull that.
Yet, it's extremely creepy just how much he looks like Amy's memories of her imaginary friend. He's cold too, like she remembers his hands being, even though it isn't that cold outside.
Before she can ponder things any more, he stirs, head lolling with a groan as his face scrunches into a confused grimace.
Right. Show time.
Another deep breath, and Amy pulls the radio to her mouth—
He jerks forward suddenly with a chocked scream, eyes wide and unfocused before he curls into himself and crushes his head with his hands. Well, with his right hand, the left is straining against the cuff so hard that Amy fears he'll cut himself on it, and he rounds on it with pale and frantic eyes that are more animal than human. He scratches and pulls at the cuff before he curls around it, covering his face with his left hand while the right crushes the cuff, eyes closed tightly and the whine of a wounded animal escaping from his throat.
Amy tries to move closer to him, but it's like her body doesn't want to do so, too afraid and shocked by the trembling and whimpering form curled against the radiator. What's going on? Is he hurt? She didn't hit him that hard, did she?
She tries to put herself together, but he stiffens and goes silent before she can manage.
And then, after some tense seconds of both of them holding their breath, he slumps with a tremulous but relieved sigh, muttering something that sounds a lot like 'just my heart' over and over under his breath.
Only when he uncurls some more, pulling his head away to stare down at the cuff around his reddened but unharmed wrist with a confused frown, does Amy manage to finally put herself together, straightening and clearing her throat perhaps a bit too loudly, judging by how quickly he turns to her, shoulders tense.
"Back with us?" she asks with her best serious voice, trying to mask any worry or uncertainty she feels.
She lost the key to the cuffs, she remembers just now, and the last thing she wants is for him to suffer a panic attack or worse while Amy is unable to even get him down the stairs. She could always call the police, the actual police, but…
What would she tell them? Hey, police? Yeah, my imaginary friend, the one with the time traveling box, has finally shown up and broken into my house. I have him cuffed to a radiator but I lost the key of the cuffs. Can someone come pick him up?
Yeah, no. She can see exactly how that will go.
Oh, but what if it's a prank? … Well, then the idiot deserves some time out for choosing to come in here looking like that. She will worry about the cuffs after he begs for forgiveness.
Only, instead of begging for forgiveness, he's looking her from head to toe with a bemused look on his face.
"What are you wearing? Is it Halloween? Did I mess up the date too and land on Halloween? Because I forgot my costume in my other time-travelling box, so sorry about that," he finally snarks, giving her a mocking grin that is way too familiar.
"It's my uniform. I'm a policewoman," Amy scolds him, ignoring the tiny part of her brain that is telling her she knows that voice. "And you're under arrest for breaking and entering. You'll have a lot of explaining to do once the reinforcements arrive."
"Drop the act, girly. No proper uniform would have a skirt like that. Kudos for the quick thinking, though, that gig would have certainly done it for any of the idiots in the streets," he snorts, making her blush in anger and embarrassment, before he turns serious, his glare freezing her in the spot. "Now, get these cuffs off me, I've got important things to do."
"No bloody way, Mister. I don't care who you think you are, but this is still breaking and entering, and you're going nowhere until I have some answers!" she protests, fists on her hips as she glares down at him, no longer caring whether he believes her to be a policewoman or not.
After all, he's still cuffed to the radiator, so it's not like he's going anywhere.
"Get me out of these and I'll consider it," he answers with a mightier-than-thou grin, shaking the cuffs so they clink against the radiator, and Amy's about to start cursing him again when she sees him put a hand in his pocket.
They both tense at about the same time, Amy with wariness at the realization that he might have a weapon on him and she hadn't checked, while he appears more shocked than anything.
Completely ignoring Amy, he focuses fully on his pocket, rummaging around, before reaching for the other one with his cuffed hand, having just enough leeway to do that, his shock turning to anger.
"Where is it?!" he roars, glaring at her with eyes that are a pale amber-green and that, for a second, make Amy fear she'll be set ablaze. "Where's the screwdriver?!"
The screwdriver. The screwdriver of light, which could open and close doors to amazing worlds with a blue light and a high-pitched whir.
But that means—
"I didn't take it. I just dragged you here and cuffed you to the radiator," Amy answers hurriedly before she can think better of it, though she collects herself quickly after that. "And what the Hell are you doing with a screwdriver in your pocket? Is that how you broke into my place?"
His snarl freezes in surprise, before it morphs into an analyzing frown.
"Your place? Are you Amelia's aunt?"
Amy freezes, but fortunately, she manages not to show anything more than surprise.
Amelia. No one has called her Amelia in years, not since she accepted the Raggedy Doctor was just a figment of her imagination and decided that 'Amelia Pond' really was like something out of a fairytale.
The only way someone would know 'Amelia' lived here is—
Okay, no, all of Leadworth knows that. But the way he used that name, the familiarity, is more than enough reason to shock Amy into stillness.
"Amelia?" she repeats, voice thankfully blank, and he scowls derisively, as if she's the stupidest person he has ever run into.
It is nothing like those 'you're silly' grins from the Raggedy Doctor. This one is meant to hurt.
"Amelia Pond, seven and a half, ginger, Scottish, lives with her aunt, and she and everyone else in this bloody house is in danger unless you get me out of these cuffs," he hisses, his glare somehow intensifying, but Amy clings to her shock, because that's better than reacting to what is essentially a description of herself twelve years ago.
It can't be. He isn't real.
"Amelia Pond hasn't lived here in a long time," she tells him, fortunately still calm, and his lips pull back in an animalistic display that has her shivering and taking a step back. "Six months. Amelia Pond hasn't lived here for six months."
His snarl vanishes, replaced by shocked surprise, before he shakes his head and focuses back on her.
"Doesn't matter, Prisoner Zero is still here. Get these cuffs off me and you might survive," he growls, and the reason Amy shivers is as much the threat in his voice as it is that name.
Prisoner Zero.
Prisoner Zero has escaped.
This is not her Raggedy Doctor, he can't be her Raggedy Doctor, because her Raggedy Doctor was a figment of her imagination, and, no matter how gruff he was, he was never this scary.
But only her Raggedy Doctor would know—alright, no, because Amelia told everyone about the Raggedy Doctor and Prisoner Zero and their adventures trying to hunt the elusive criminal down.
Still, there's just one person who would talk about Amelia Pond and Prisoner Zero as if it was something that happened only—only five minutes ago.
"Who are you?" Amy whispers, taking another step back as she tries to put her mind in order, and he pulls on the cuffs once more as he maneuvers himself into a crouch.
"I'm—" he starts, still snarling, before cutting himself off with a sharp inhale, jerking his head down to glare at the floor with a mixture of pain and anger.
"What? What's wrong?" Amy asks, moving a step forward before she can stop herself and kneeling to try and catch his attention.
He takes a deep breath, eyes tightly closed, and whispers under his breath. As focused as she is on him, Amy manages to catch his words despite how softly he speaks.
"No, no, that's not how this works, how was that… Rules, yes, that's it, what were they? Oh, Doctor Rule Number One is no killing, that one's easy. Doctor Rule Number Two, huh, that was… Be nice. No, that's not right… Number Two is no hurting people, that sounds better. And Doctor Rule Number Three… One chance, always give the idiots one chance to surrender and accept help, yup, that's Number Three," he whispers, nodding to himself and looking calmer – and then he looks up and meets Amy's eyes as if he'd known she was listening all along, his voice a tad louder as he continues, just enough that she doesn't drown his next words with her startled gasp. "Doctor Rule Number Four is if the idiots don't take that chance, ignore Rules One to Three."
And then he smiles widely and it's all teeth, eyes bright in a face darkened by his bowed head and the light from the window coming from behind him.
It should be scary, terrifying, but perhaps the most surprising since she heard the would-be burglar break into her house, Amy feels hopeful instead.
"You tell them! Now that's the kind of attitude I like. Do what you want, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You are the master of your own destiny, not those know-it-alls who think they know what's better."
That's what the Raggedy Doctor had said when Amy told him she was the kind of princess who rescued the knights. She remembers thinking that he was scary and that it was good, because they needed something scarier than the voices on the other side of the crack in her wall to scare them away.
"Oh my God, it's you," Amy whispers before she can stop herself, startled and hopeful at the same time, and his menacing grin falls to be replaced by a confused frown. "You're him, the man who came in the blue box, the one who fixed the crack in my wall."
"Amelia? Amelia Pond?" the Doctor asks her with his face slack in surprise, eyebrows almost at his hairline, and Amy sits on her heels and covers her lower face with her hands, taking a couple of deep breaths, before nodding. "But—How long has it been? It was barely five minutes for me, but you're all grown up now!"
"Twelve years," she tells him in a soft voice, before something snaps in her and she leans forward accusingly, pointing a finger at his face that has him leaning back against the radiator with his hands held up, as if she was aiming a gun instead. "Twelve years! You were gone for twelve years! Everyone thought you were just an imaginary friend I made up and became obsessed with. I had to go to four psychiatrists."
"Obsessed? What do you mean, obsessed?"
"Four! Psychiatrists!" she repeats instead, unwilling to talk about the games and the cartoons and the dolls, not sure if she won't spontaneously combust from embarrassment if he learns of those. "You destroyed the shed and said there was a monster from another world hiding in the house but that you would be back in five minutes. What do you think my aunt thought when she came back and saw the mess in the kitchen? And the shed?!" she scolds, and, this time, he has the decency to give her a mixture between a sheepish grin and an embarrassed grimace.
"I told you, the controls were damaged! Linearly, it has been only seven minutes twenty-two seconds for me," he tells her as explanation, but she can only give him an incredulous look.
"Seven minutes and twenty-two seconds?"
"Thirty-four seconds now. Thirty-five. Thirty-si—"
"Are you serious?!"
"Of course I'm serious! I can't not be serious when it comes to time. Of course, I could always lie to you, but what would I gain from it?"
Instead of answering, Amy lets out a frustrated cry and buries her face in her hands.
"Amelia? I really am serious. Prisoner Zero is still here. You need to get these cuffs off me and give me back my screwdriver. If it really has had twelve years to hide and plan, it's more dangerous than ever," the Raggedy Doctor tells her, far calmer than before, almost understanding, and it is Amy's turn to look at him with embarrassment and a touch of guilt.
"… I lost the key. And I didn't take your screwdriver, honest," she tells him, and his grimace is almost physically pained.
"… Tell me you're wearing bobby pins under that costume hat?"
She isn't, but it takes her just a second to walk into her room and retrieve one for him to pick the cuffs' lock. His wrist is no longer reddened from his previous struggles, but he rubs it anyway, standing up and glaring at the door in front of the stairs with that laser-focused determination that, even twelve years and four psychiatrists later, still fills Amy with awe and hope.
"You're sure my sonic screwdriver didn't fall down the stairs or something, aren't you," he asks without asking, more like a statement, and Amy winces as if he'd chastised her instead of just making an observation.
"I think it would have made some noise if it had. We're talking about that metallic cylinder with the blue light that you used to close the crack, right?"
"Yeah, that's a sonic screwdriver. One I'm quite attached to, even though it's sonic," he answers absentmindedly, striding confidently to the door in front of the stairs—
Only, he's not, moving instead next to it, to where—to nothing—to—
"What are you doing? There's nothing there," Amy asks, shaking her head as she tries to clear the slight dizziness that has fallen over her as she tries to focus on the Doctor, who gives her an amused look over his shoulder.
It's his 'you're silly' smile, the one she remembers from twelve years ago, and despite how offended she is to see it directed at her again, part of her is happy to see it nonetheless.
"Psy-blind species, you lot. It's a perception filter, it makes your brain not want to focus on it, but you can still see it. This, Amelia, is a door. A door that has been here for twelve years, and that your brain has never registered before despite walking past it all the time," he explains, starting with amusement in his voice that turns into low-simmering anger, and Amy closes her eyes and takes a deep breath – and her eyes snap open when she hears the whine of old hinges opening. "Unlocked. That can't be good. Wait out here."
But Amy isn't listening anymore, staring in wide-eyed disbelief as the Doctor peeks inside a dusty and damaged room that she could have sworn wasn't there two seconds ago. The door is a yellowish-white, owing to how long it has gone unpainted, and the dark blue paint is scratched and peeling off, revealing the cold gray wall underneath.
The Doctor doesn't hesitate after his first cursory look, stepping confidently but quietly inside, while Amy reels. A whole room in her house, and she hasn't noticed in the twelve years she's been here. Twelve years, just walking past it, while an escaped prisoner from another world, an alien, lived just down the corridor, and who knows what it had been convicted for in the first place?
Amy is about ready to hyperventilate when the Doctor's voice brings her back to reality with a start.
"Found my screwdriver! Oh, that's just disgusting – did it chew on it? I really hope this is drool instead of something else… Or, you know, I'd rather it wasn't drool at all, but with my luck…" he grumbles, but Amy manages to catch his words as she steps closer to the door, almost in a trance. "Stay where you are, Amelia. I've found Prisoner Zero."
And Amy freezes. Prisoner Zero is in there, with her Raggedy Doctor. It took the Doctor's screwdriver somehow, without Amy noticing. Maybe when she went to change and get the cuffs?
"What is it?" Amy asks from her spot, remembering the giant eyeball they saw on the other side of the crack.
"Don't know. It'll kill me if I see it, and I'd rather not die today. It would be quite pathetic, don't you think? I've had quite impressive deaths so far, and I don't plan on lowering the bar," he comments casually, his words making Amy frown, but before she can ask, he appears on the doorway, wiping the screwdriver clean of some kind of colorless sticky goo on his sleeve, as unbothered as if there was nothing wrong with having an alien criminal living in a secret room of her house for twelve years. "Found it! Don't know what it did to it, though, I'll have to give it a thorough check," he tells her with a happy grin, waving the screwdriver as he closes the door behind him – and whirls around with the screwdriver whirring madly after a start, the lock clicking shut a moment later. "Run," he tells her, serious once more and with bright green eyes drilling into hers, and Amy turns around before she can think about it.
She's pulled back almost immediately and guided down the stairs by a strong grip on her arm that prevents her from tripping. She would be embarrassed when she realizes she was running to her room, if not for the fact her mind's too busy processing the shock to feel anything right now.
"What's going on?!" Amy shouts when they reach the bottom floor, yelping when a loud crash echoes for above, followed by the sound of metal slamming on wood. "What's that?!"
"You really thought a door would stop it? How can you be so ignorant?" the Doctor scoffs, pushing her outside as he closes the garden door and locks it with his screwdriver. "Prisoner Zero is an interdimensional multiform from outer space. Did you really think it would be scared of wood?" he scoffs once more with the insulting look, and Amy rears up to protest before she's cut by barking from the inside, of all things. "Alright, that's just wrong. Where did it get the pattern for a dog? You need a psychic link for that kind of thing, a live one, but a dog?"
"What is going on?!" Amy asks again, this time wrapping her hands around the Doctor's arm and shaking him a bit to get his attention.
"I told you! Prisoner Zero, multiform, perception filter!"
"That makes no sense! What does it want? Is it going to kill us?" she asks, calmer this time, and lets go when the Doctor pulls his arm back.
"Why bother? It's just the two of us, and no one knows what it really looks like. We're not a threat, so it would be a waste of time to try and track us down. No one can see its room and humans aren't exactly open-minded to the idea of aliens. You told people about me these past twelve years, didn't you? And where did that get you?" he explains, lifting an eyebrow mockingly, and Amy can only cross her arms with a glare, getting the point. "There, was that so hard? No backup, no facial recognition, no threat."
"Attention, Prisoner Zero. The human residence is surrounded," a voice calls from all around them, sounding as if coming from a megaphone, and they both turn around to try and find the origin.
"You said no backup!" Amy shouts, turning to the Doctor, whose slack-jawed expression turns into a disgruntled scowl.
"About bloody time they turned up!" he sniffs contemptuously, and calmly walks away from the door, towards the damaged and smoking blue police box in the garden, standing upright this time. "That's the prison guards, finally doing their job. Let's go get some ice-cream, or whatever, while they clean up their mess, shall we?" he asks Amy casually over his shoulder, and, no longer knowing what to think, Amy follows him to the box.
It looks like a big blue wooden telephone cabin, if not for the words 'police box', the lantern atop it and the paper on the door detailing its function, but Amy is too startled looking it all over to focus on whatever is written. The Doctor pulls a key out of his pocket and tries to open the door, which doesn't bulge, while ignoring the megaphone call repeating itself all around them.
"Still rebuilding," he huffs, annoyed, before turning to Amy with a big grin. "I changed my mind, let's get a big English breakfast, shall we, Amelia? You can tell me all about your Halloween costume once we're sitting down with some warm food."
"What's your obsession with food?" Amy asks before she can think better of it, shaking her head once she processes her words. "No, forget that. And this is not a Halloween costume, I'm a kissogram!"
He looks almost hilariously startled at that, but before Amy can do more than scowl at him, they both freeze.
The megaphone message has changed.
"Did they just say—?"
"Shush!"
"Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence or the human residence will be incinerated."
"Yep, they did."
"They're going to burn down my house!" Amy protests, looking around once more to try and find the origin of the voice, but the Doctor just shrugs again and walks towards the exit, uncaring.
"No, they won't. Prisoner Zero ran away from prison, do you think it's stupid enough to get itself caught like that? It'll make a run for it, the guards will follow, and all your pretty little dresses will be alright in the end," he tells her nonchalantly, hands in his pockets, and Amy quickly catches up to him while trying to put her thoughts in order.
"How are you so sure of that?!"
"Because that's what I would do."
"What is that supposed to mean?!" she asks, following him into the street even as she takes a look at her house over her shoulder.
"Oh, come on, don't you have survival instincts? What would you do if someone threatened to set the place you're hiding in on fire? Seriously, I thought you were cleverer than that," he scoffs, still walking away unbothered, and Amy protests with a loud 'oi!' but doesn't have time for more before he rounds on her, walking backwards. "And that brings us to my next question! A kissogram? A kissogram?! What happened to the princess who defeated dragons and saved knights?"
"She grew up," she huffs in answer, swatting away the finger he's pointing at her face. "And you don't have the right to judge me! You said you'd be back in five minutes!"
"I was back in five minutes! How come it is my fault that the TARDIS' navigation system is faulty?" he protests, waving his hands with a scowl without bite.
"Twelve years!" Amy repeats, pointing her finger at his face this time, and he turns around childishly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and pulling up his shoulders in answer.
"So you said, twelve years and four psychiatrists. Why four?" he asks, looking over his shoulder curiously, and Amy's anger evaporates in the face of her embarrassment.
She manages to push it away in a blink, though, because here, right in front of her, is all the proof she needs to know she was right.
"I kept biting them," she answers as she straightens confidently, catching up to him, and the look he gives her is of genuine curiosity. "They said you weren't real."
And he smiles, a huge amused grin with a hint of pride in it, which Amy returns before she can think about it.
"That's the Amelia I remember!" he laughs, head thrown back and body relaxed, truly joyful, and Amy can't help but wonder how she could ever believe this man wasn't real.
A moment later, they realize the guards' message is getting louder, and all the cheer and easygoing air vanishes as they exchange a confused frown.
Just up the path sits an ice-cream van, with the vendor fiddling with the megaphones, and Amy's stomach drops to her feet.
"Are we seriously being staked out by an ice-cream van?" she questions incredulously, but the Doctor jogs to the van instead of answering, forcing Amy to hurry after him.
"What the Hell are you playing?" he asks the vendor, taking the megaphones out of his hands.
"It's supposed to be Claire de Lune," the ice-cream man answers, too surprised to do anything as the Doctor drops the megaphones and picks up the radio instead, pulling it up to his ear even though they can both easily hear the same message coming out of it.
Feeling dread wrap around her throat, Amy turns in her spot, trying to see if there's anyone suspicious working on a laptop or something. Instead, she sees a girl in jogging clothes glaring at her iPod in confusion, and a woman asking 'what' over and over into her phone.
"It's everywhere," Amy whispers, turning to see the Doctor has seen what her, his pale eyes wide as he takes the situation in.
They exchange a look and, without a word, the Doctor rushes to the house across the street, with its front door open, and jumps over the fence. Amy follows as fast as she can, but only manages to catch the last of his words, something about running maintenance on TV reception in the area.
"I was just about to phone. It's on every channel," Mrs. Angelo tells him, obviously relieved, as Amy enters the living room to see the Doctor flickering the channels on the TV, all of them showing a close-up of a large blue eye while playing the guards' message. "Oh, hello, Amy dear. Are you a policewoman now?"
"Well, sometimes," she answers a bit awkwardly, fending off a couple more questions about her many 'jobs' as the Doctor runs his screwdriver over the TV.
"You go by Amy now? That's a boring name," he comments almost off-handedly, flickering the channels again with the same results, though the message seems to be playing in different languages now.
"Who's your friend, Amy? He looks familiar. Have I seen you somewhere?" Mrs. Angelo asks before Amy can answer, and the Doctor gives her a calculating and slightly wary look over his shoulder, turning a bit almost as if hiding his face from her.
"What year is it, 2008? … Oh, shit, 2008," he muses to himself, stiffening in realization before he does twist around fully, this time hiding himself more obviously. "No, no, I'm sure you haven't, I just have one of those faces," he answers amicably enough, though he keeps his head down.
Amy's embarrassment at his almost discovering about her made-up stories is quickly replaced by confusion. Why is he hiding himself? Is he actually worried about people recognizing him? But that makes no sense, unless…
Before Amy can ask about her suspicions, he turns off the TV with a scowl, forgetting all about his worry at being recognized as he turns to them.
"It's everywhere, all over the world," he hisses, rushing to the window to search the sky. "I can't believe the nerve of some people! Definitely not the Shadow Proclamation, though."
"What are you looking for?" Amy asks him, worried, as his scowl darkens and he turns to them, eyes unfocused.
"Planet this size, two poles, basic molten core, means they're going to need a forty percent fission blast," he mutters to himself, fiddling with the screwdriver almost unconsciously before opening the window and hanging halfway out of it, activating it while pointing at the sky, ignoring Amy's and Mrs. Angelo's flabbergasted looks, and Jeff's entrance. "Assuming a medium-sized starship—and it looks like they brought some small carriers too, why do they even bother—and that they just started charging, this means twenty minutes," he continues, hoisting himself back inside and pocketing the screwdriver before running his hands through his hair. "Twenty Rassilon-damned minutes, and the TARDIS is still repairing. Bollocks!" he curses, throwing his hands down with a snarl before stilling, eyes closed, to take in a deep calming breath. "Right, Doctor Rule Number Five, no letting planets be obliterated even if it means the idiot of the day is blown up with them," he recites almost pleasantly, a small smile on his lips, before he frowns unhappily and opens her eyes to meet Amy's. "No, 'idiot of the day' isn't right, doesn't ring, does it? I need to come up with something better."
"Are you the Doctor?" Jeff asks with a disbelieving grin, and the Doctor goes as still as a statue, amber-green eyes locking onto Jeff, whose grin widens.
"He is, isn't he? He's the Doctor! The Raggedy Doctor, that's why he looks so familiar," Mrs. Angelo tells Amy with a small laugh. "All those cartoons you did when you were little. The Raggedy Doctor, that's him," she adds, exchanging a grin with Jeff, and, blushing, Amy turns to the Doctor.
"The Raggedy what?" he asks her in a chocked whisper, eyes blown wide and looking vulnerable, of all things, almost broken.
Amy's embarrassment vanishes quite fast at the sight, stepping to his side to grab an arm because he looks about to faint. He steps away before she can touch him, locking his emotions behind steely determination, but she manages to catch a glimpse of pain before he turns away.
"I'm not the Doctor. And come on, we've only got twenty minutes," he tells her, ignoring Jeff and Mrs. Angelo as he walks outside, with Amy following in confusion.
"Twenty minutes for what?" she asks, deciding to focus on the more important issue of the aliens and Prisoner Zero for now.
"The end of the world."