The Girl Who Didn't Make Sense

A Promise To The TARDIS

"No offense, Doctor," Rory said, standing in the console room, "But we're hardly an army. Shouldn't we go recruiting? Like last time?"

The Doctor turned from the console, brow furrowed in frustration and thought. They'd been looking for Amy for two whole weeks in almost every corner of the universe, but no one knew anything. Even if they did, they were either too scared of the Silence to talk, or had their memories altered a bit by that mysterious race that no one could seem to remember, only fear. "Last time, friends of mine died, Rory," he replied, quietly, noticing just how obvious it was in his tone that he was trying not to scream out, "Last time, I was tricked and made a fool of. Last time, we failed to save Amy. And that won't happen again."

"Besides," River added, cheerfully, resting a hand on the shoulder of the Doctor's tweed jacket, "The Doctor is equal to an army of your strongest soldiers. He scared away tens of thousands of starships just by talking, remember?" Her husband tried to smile in response, but it didn't quite reach his eyes like they usually did, like they did when Amy was around. He folded his arms and looked down, studying his boots intently.

"Well, what are we supposed to do now? We've been looking for weeks!" Rory cried, "What if we never find her? Then what'll we do, Doctor?"

The Time Lord didn't answer. The same questions lingered in his own mind, wondering what on Earth he would do if this was really the time that he wouldn't be able to save his Amy Pond. But there were no answers. He didn't know what to do next. He didn't know where to go. He didn't know what he was going to do without her if he failed. All the Doctor knew was that he was that he missed her. He missed his Amy. And he was so tired. So, instead of gracing Rory's question with a reply, the Doctor turned around, wordlessly, towards the hallway.

"Sweetie," River said, quietly, trying to stop him by grabbing onto his sleeve, but her husband kept moving, not looking back.

Rory and River exchanged looks of worry and fear and despair. If the Doctor didn't have the answers, then who did? He was the man that was always a step ahead of everyone else, who always had a plan, who hoped far-flung hopes and dreamt of impossible dreams. He never gave up. Until now. Without Amy by the Doctor's side, her rescue becoming more and more of an improbability, there was no hope in those green eyes, no quirky energy to push him through his lows. She was the flashlight that helped guide him out of the darkness, and without her, the Doctor was stuck in the pitch black.

He wandered down hallway after hallway for what seemed like hours, so tired and exhausted but having no desire to find his bedroom. The Doctor passed by bedroom after bedroom of his old companions, memories surging from each one. That was the reason his room was so near the console room. The farther back this got, the more refreshed his memories were. And for some, that wasn't a good thing. There was the oak door with a wooden rose carved into the door, a golden handle as the knob. The Doctor knew it was Rose Tyler's room, the first human girl to ever have had the Doctor considering settling down. He had never loved a companion like Rose, but looking back, he realized that it was nothing compared to Amy. He hadn't fought to stay with Rose, never saying the three words she wanted to hear so badly, letting his Duplicate replace him. But the Doctor had fought for Amy. He had sacrificed himself and caused the Big Bang 2 for her. He had stuck his arm into a shark's mouth to save her from a crashing starship. His last moments in Berlin were spent trying to save her. On Lake Silencio, it was Amy that the Doctor had almost ruined his whole plan for. And when they had first taken her, it was Amy the Doctor had started a war for. He had loved Rose Tyler. But it was nothing compared to Amy.

The Doctor passed the oak door and continued before running into another familiar door. The wood was painted white with a silver doorknob, the name "Martha" engraved in a metal plate that hung upon the door. Martha Jones… The Doctor at times wondered if he would have had feelings for her, had she not preceded Rose. She loved him just as much as Rose, was just as dedicated and loyal as Rose, yet he felt nothing for her but friendship. It was her unrequited feelings in the end that brought Martha's departure. It was the same reason Rose would eventually choose John Smith over him.

"You've never been good with expressing your feelings to others, dear," a voice said inside his head. It was the TARDIS, the one girl that had stayed behind with the ever-changing madman all these years. She knew everything about him. She knew all the Doctor's mistakes, faults, memories he cherished and memories he hid from himself.

The Doctor didn't reply. Honestly, he was a little ticked off at the TARDIS. She was supposed to take him to where he needed to be. And he needed to save Amy. Why hadn't she taken him to the correct place? "Oh, my little thief is angry with me, isn't he?" she asked, "You're not ready to save Amelia Pond just yet."

"What do you mean 'not ready'?" he huffed, continuing his walk down the hall, passing Jack's and Sarah Jane's, Jo's and Susan's, hesitating at Donna's door, the wood a deep cherry. Donna Noble… His other redhead. She reminded him of Amy so very much, and not just because of their shared hair color. They were both the best mates he had ever had, and if the Doctor hadn't feared Donna remembering his presence and having her mind burnt up as she turned into a Time Lord, then he would have invited her to Lake Silencio with them. She was one of the people he had trusted most as well. Though, the Doctor had never put his life into anyone else's hands but Amy's. "I need her," the Doctor confessed, looking away from the door, "I need Amy. Rory's not witty enough to banter with and River doesn't have that same loud, obnoxious laugh that actually makes telling jokes enjoyable."

"Maybe you should tell Amy that," the TARDIS suggested, as the Doctor began his endless walk.

"Maybe I would if you'd tell me where she was at!"

"Would you?"

"I… I don't know!" the Doctor growled, "It's a bit more complicated than that, old girl. I have River. And she has Rory. There's just… Too many obstacles in the way. It's hopeless."

"Well, now you sound like that Martha girl," she teased, "Always pining for you, but never getting anything in return. And then she gave up, called it a lost cause. Is your Amy a lost cause, Little Thief?"

"No," he replied, automatically, "Of course not. I won't stop until I find her." The TARDIS didn't reply, and the Doctor began to think she had ended the conversation. He continued walking in complete silence for fifteen more minutes before a certain door came into view. It was TARDIS blue with drawn signs indicating that the visitor should "Keep Out!" and "Knock First or Prepare for a Shoe to Whack Your Big Head!" taped to the door. On one sign, there was a picture of the Doctor in his bow tie and tweed, face pinched in pain as a shoe smacked him in the face. It was one of Amy's cartoons. She had made it one day when the Doctor tried making her watch "The Three Stooges" again. He thought they were hilarious, but after the first 14 times, Amy had stopped finding humor in it. He remembered teasing her as she showed him her finished artwork.

"I took you with me to laugh at my jokes and have adventures, Pond," the Doctor grinned, "Not draw cartoons of me and doodle my name next to some hearts in your notebook."

"You're just jealous of my talent!" Amy sniffed, "You can't shut up five minutes to even take time to make a masterpiece like this!"

"Right… A masterpiece."

"That's it! Just wait until I untie my boot!" Amy laughed, starting remove her shoe as the Doctor ducked behind the console.

The memory brought a reminiscent smile to his lips, a melancholy glaze over his green eyes. That was before everything had gotten so messed up, before the Doctor had even known she was getting married to Rory. But he knew he had passed this door a long time ago. It should have been practically on the other side of the TARDIS. The door opened on its own accord, the Doctor's nose catching of whiff of pure Amy. Sweet pea and lavender. This was their old room, the one Amy and Rory had before they had asked for an upgrade from the bunk beds. The blue of the walls matched the door and the beds were pushed up against the far wall. "What are you up to, old girl?" the Doctor asked aloud, cautiously entering the room.

"Must I always be up to something?" the TARDIS asked, innocently.

"Yes," he quickly replied, eyeing the wall to his right. It was the one that was covered in Amy's old pictures. There was nothing quite recent, not since their change in rooms, but the Doctor knew there probably weren't any in their new one. Their adventures towards the end weren't all so very cheery. He looked at the newer photos, the one River had taken of the Doctor, Rory, and Amy with President Richard Nixon, the photo a Williams relative had taken of the three doing a funny pose at Rory and Amy's wedding, a picture of the Doctor and one of his snowmen that Amy took while they were on Kazran's planet on Christmas. And then there was the picture he took, so much like young Kazran's picture of Abigail. It was of Amy grinning and staring in wonder at the flying fish in the storm clouds. The Doctor loved that look. It was what kept the universe still interesting despite his many trips to every single part of it. He distinctly remembered the feeling he had while he took this, feeling so happy and alive with Amy next to him, feeding off her energy. She always made the universe ten times more brilliant. No wonder why everything was starting to get duller and duller without her.

"You've never really liked looking back at old memories," the TARDIS remarked, snapping the Doctor's attention back to the present moment, "But you forget that not all memories are painful."

"I don't want to talk to you unless it's you telling me where Amy is," the Doctor sighed, starting to feel his exhaustion build and take over his body.

"You're not ready yet, my thief. First, you must make me a promise."

The Doctor smirked, "I knew you were up to something." He made his way over to the bed, climbing up the ladder to Amy's bunk, while wondering what the blazes wasn't cool about these things. Her blankets still smelled like her, as did the pillows, and the Time Lord didn't even try to resist the urge to snuggle deep into them, not caring that he was still fully dressed with shoes and jacket on. Instead, he turned his attention to the mountain of plushies, pushing them all away from his and trying to make room for his head. The only time the Doctor had ever really liked sleeping with stuffed animals was when he was just a young, little Time Boy, all those centuries ago.

"I know she's different," the Doctor agreed, letting out a tired yawn while he continued to shovel away the animals, "But it's complicated, far too complicated to explain right-" He stopped suddenly, his fingers brushing against something rough, something that felt home-made, something made by the hands of a child. Curious, the Doctor fished for it, digging his hand into the bottom of the pile and picking it up like a claw machine. Upon pulling it out, the Doctor realized that it was him in his Raggedy Doctor garb. It was a rag doll with big, black button eyes, a sewn-in grin, and brown yarn thrown around in disarray, representing the Doctor's disheveled 'do. Though crudely cut and sewn, the Doctor thought it was absolutely perfect as he held the doll in his large hands. "Oh, Amy," he gasped.

"See?"

"I would have never guessed my biggest fan to be in Leadworth of all places," the Doctor joked, rubbing his thumb over the silky fabric of his tie.

"Promise me, Doctor," the TARDIS repeated, "Promise me you'll tell her."

The Doctor paused. "Yes. Yes, I promise, dear. I'll tell her." No one said anymore. The blue time machine let her little thief rest, shielding him from River and Rory for the night, as the Time Lord fell into a deep slumber cuddling his doll and dreaming of a little Scottish girl in Leadworth who was looking up into the stars and waiting for her Raggedy Doctor to come back to her.

Ooh! And, on a personal note, I am totally wanting to make some fanvids on Youtube because when I listen to the radio now, I make an Eleven/Amy connection with at least 78% of them! Anyways, if anyone has any recommendations on what video editing software is the best... I may just love you forever.

Subscribe. Favorite. Review. Or I'll get the Silurians to hunt you down. And we all know they mean business.

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