Amy was gradually woken by the bright light edging its way across the room through the crack in the curtains. She grimaced as she wiped sleep from her eyes, momentarily confused as to where she was, until she remembered the events of yesterday.
She sighed and swept the hair from her face, wincing as strands that had been stuck down by tears peeled off. She looked down at the pillows and saw them stained with salt. She had spent a long time crying the night before.
She flopped back down into the bed, not caring enough to take a shower. She didn't have any plans of leaving the room. Not for a while. In fact, she had no plans, nothing past lying here in bed and wallowing; reminiscing, remembering Rory, mourning him, and the same for Joseph.
Shortly after this she heard a knocking at the door. She heard the Doctor call her name. She remained in bed, and tried to ignore him, tune him out.
Each time he returned it became harder and harder for her to ignore him, though. Since she first met him, she had this compulsion to follow him wherever he went; the Doctor and Amy, always together. When he called her name, she would come running. So each time he waited at her door, every time he called for her to join him, she denied her very nature by not opening that door.
On the second day it dawned on her just how patient he was being. He could get into the room any time that he wanted, lock or no lock, to see her. Yet he didn't. Instead he did all else that he could; he knocked for her, he checked on her, he kept sending food up, which lay untouched on the other side of the door.
He knocked again. "Amy? Are you still in there?" She heard him call. She looked up at the door, picturing him there on the other side of the door. What would he look like, she wondered. Would he still have his tweed jacket on, his bow tie, even in this heat? How would he be standing? She tried to get an exact model of him in her mind, and rose from the bed to the door, following the illusion.
She smiled as she flicked through her mental photo album, picturing him, all his smiles, all his frowns, his laugh. She smiled.
And then she remembered the times he had let her down. When he left her for twelve years, when he left her for two. When he didn't act fast enough and let Rory die.
"Amy?" He asked through the door.
"Go away, Doctor." She said wearily, just loud enough for him to hear. She crawled back into bed and begun to cry again.
Is anyone elses traffic stats down or is it just me?