As the suns set (a beautiful scene to behold) and the moons began to rise, the Doctor made his way back to the hotel. Performing the same routine as before when passing through the foyer, he quickly made his way back up to the twelfth floor, and stood outside Amy's room. He listened for a few seconds, but could hear nothing. He gently tapped on her door.
"Amy?" He called hesitantly. "You okay?"
There was no response. He wondered if she was asleep, and then wondered if she was even still in there. He pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and pointed it at the door, but didn't push down on the button. He felt conflicted. He wanted to go in, to check on her, to see her sleeping safely, tucked into bed. But he knew that what he was about to do would invade her privacy. She hadn't wanted him there earlier, and she hadn't called him to bring him back. She wanted to be on her own. What if she was awake, waiting for him to leave.
"Amy?" He called again, a little louder this time. "Are you in there?"
Still no response. He screwed up his eyes and pressed down on the button, unlocking the door. He inched it open, and found the room lit dully from the moonlight through the window; the artificial lighting having turned off long ago from lack of movement. It flickered on again as he entered the room, but he quickly turned it down with a blast of the sonic.
He felt himself exhale a breath that he didn't know he had been holding when he saw Amy curled up on the bed, her long red hair a mask over her face and she was holding on tightly to a pillow from the bed. He smiled from the doorway; she was safe.
"Should leave now." He whispered to himself, but he didn't. Instead he found himself softly creeping in to get closer to her. As he walked round the bed he could see more of her face peeking through her hair, and he could see her puffy eyes, a tell tale sign that she had been crying.
"Really need to leave now." He told himself. Instead he walked closer, now inches away from the beautiful woman lying on the bed. Despite his better judgement, he carefully reached out and brushed away the hair from her face, a few silky strands sticking to her dried tears. He smiled sadly, wanting nothing more to hold her, but knew he couldn't wake her. It was a strange sort of agony.
He took the sheet at the end of the bed and spread it across her, the thin material sinking slowly through the air before it finally landed on her, her sleeping form making more of an impact to the material than it did to her. She still slept, holding onto her pillow. She looked so vulnerable.
The Doctor leant down and very gently laid a kiss on her forehead, before quickly straightening up. That was the most he could do, he would not cross a line. He had already done far too much against Amy's will.
He left the room silently, locking it behind him.