More Than Just A Madman
So, this is AFTER "Amy's Choice" and that voice comes into play. It really irritated me that Amy never minded that whole "Doctor doesn't trust you" stuff that the Dream Lord was saying :/ So shankya! ENJOY!
"Silly me," the Doctor murmured to himself. It turns out that in his rush to see Amy's dreams, the old man had dropped some of the pollen, which heated up in the generator and subjected them all to a dream-like state, not just Amy. But he had seen her dreams, and the Dream Lord, that tiny voice in his head was right. She hadn't chosen. After today, though, he was sure things had changed.
"Doctor," Rory called, right before entering the console room with Amy, hand in hand. The sight caused the Doctor to feel a mixture of triumph for another one of his brilliant plans working out, but also heartbreak. Maybe Amy and her human feelings could change in an instant, but a Time Lord's feelings… They were much more complex. "Amy's made her choice," Rory smiled.
She really has, the Doctor thought to himself sadly. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets of his brown, tweed coat. Her voice played over and over in his mind, "Then what is the point of you? … I only want him." The words cut him like razors, deep and swift.
"RIO!" the redhead cried, excitedly, her happy voice such a contrast from the dark, pain-filled one that was replaying over and over again in his brain, "The beach sounds perfect! Can we go tomorrow?"
"Yes. Yes, of course," the Doctor mumbled, "Good choice." He went back to the controls, staring at the monitors, wishing he had something to do. Usually, the Doctor would at least try to put on the mask of happiness and excitement, but he'd been through so much that day. The Dream Lord was still in the back of his mind, taunting him, laughing. It took everything the Doctor had not to yell out in frustration and anger, to quiet all his doubts, fears, and self-hatred.
Amy looked at the Doctor curiously. She knew something was wrong with him. He'd avoided her questions earlier, and being so pre-occupied with the relief that Rory was still alive, she'd let it go. Just like he knew she would. But Amy knew her Raggedy Doctor. She noticed things, like the occasional clenching of his fists once he'd taken them out of his pockets, the dullness in his eyes, the furrowing of his brow that made it look like he was concentrating on something. His whole face was contorted with worry and pain. Amy knew instantly. While Rory and Amy had escaped that terrible Dream Lord when the TARDIS blew up in the dream, the Dream Lord wouldn't leave the Doctor. Ever. He'd always be waiting in the dark recesses of that man's mind, waiting to make another grand entrance.
"Rory," Amy said, casually, "Didn't you say you were tired?"
"No," he shook his head, then winked and elbowed Amy suggestively, "Quite the opposite if you get my meaning."
"No, I think you're tired," she repeated, putting more emphasis in her voice, trying to hint that he should leave the room. Sadly, subtlety wasn't Rory's strong suit, "Get to bed. We have a big day tomorrow."
"What? You sound like my mum!" Rory protested, "I'm not tired! I died today. And I was thinking we could celebrate…"
"Yeah, okay," the Doctor cleared his throat, "This is where I leave. Good night."
"No!" Amy groaned. Men could be so moronic sometimes. "Rory, bed. I want to talk to the Doctor alone."
"Fine," he grumbled, crossing his arms and heading towards their bedroom. There was a hint of jealousy that flashed into his voice. Even after Amy chose him, he still felt like the third wheel. He still felt like he was second to the Doctor, to Amy's childhood friend that Rory had dressed up as so many times in the past as a kid.
"Doctor," Amy said, quietly, moving closer towards him. He was still turned in the direction of his bedroom, frozen. Slowly, though, he turned around. His face a perfect mask of neutrality. He wasn't sure what Amy wanted to talk about. "Doctor, are you okay?"
"I'm always okay," he smiled, but it was an empty smile and it didn't fool either of them.
"I know I said some things," she admitted, remembering how she had acted after Rory had died in upper Leadworth. At the time, she wasn't thinking about the Doctor's feelings, only her own. Now, though, Amy felt guilt and remorse. "But you can't believe them," Amy continued, "Not what I said. Not what the Dream Lord said. None of that is true."
"You don't know that," the Doctor whispered, voice cracking a little bit, "You don't know what I've done in the past 906 years. You don't know me."
"I know that you like fish fingers and custard," she replied, desperately trying to cheer him up. She was searching for anything to tell him, to have him see himself like she did, "I know you can't stand to hear a child cry, to hear anyone in pain. I know you're the last Time Lord in this universe and that fact kills you. I know that you're more than just a madman with a blue box. You sacrificed yourself for me. For Rory. We really thought we could have died in those dreams, in Leadworth, but you trusted me. You died for me." Then she added with a smile, "And I know that you have horrible fashion sense."
"Hey!" he argued, touching his bow-tie in defense, "Bow-ties are cool."
They both broke out into a smile, and they were genuine. But Amy wasn't done talking. The Dream Lord had said that the Doctor didn't trust Amy, and that hurt her. She had thought that she was special, different, that she mattered as much to him as he did to her. "The Dream Lord said you don't trust me," she murmured. They were so close now. They weren't sure how that had happened, since when the conversation started they were at least 5 feet apart, almost on opposite sides of the controls.
"No, it's fine, Doctor," she sighed, "I understand. I'm fine with it for now. For now. But you always ask me to trust you. And I do. Completely. Someday, I want you to be able to have as much trust in me as I have for you. Deal?" Amy held out her hand to shake.
"Deal," the Doctor smiled, taking her hand and pulling her into a hug. The Dream Lord, his doubts, his fear, his regrets… They were all still there, but with Amy's words echoing in his ears, her trust in his heart, and her warmth surrounding his body, the Doctor believed that he could fight them off, that maybe he could be the hero with two hearts of gold that Amy saw. He kissed the top of her head, which smelled of sweet pea and lavender. "You are magnificent, Amy Pond," he whispered into her hair, holding her a little bit tighter.
"So are you, my Raggedy Doctor," she replied with a laugh. Mission accomplished.