She'd found something to wear in the wardrobe room. Well, rather the time machine, TARDIS the doctor (who wasn't so raggedy now) called it. It was alive he told her, though she hadn't quite understood what he'd meant by that.

She did now.

Clothes. All sorts of clothes had been hanging for her to look at. Not a thing looked bad on her. No pinks or reds that clashed horribly with her hair. Nothing that made her look frumpy or younger than she actually was (a problem she encountered a lot).

How had it known? Not just styles, but her sizes right down to bra and panties. Everything fit as if made especially for her.

That was when she first started to believe that this time machine was alive. Not in a way she understood, but alive just the same.

Dressed in a pair of jeans and shirt (she'd ignored the French maid's uniform, sensing somehow it was the TARDIS' form of a joke) she made her way down a hall.

Where was she going?

Well, she wasn't quite sure. The TARDIS, though, seemed to pulse and beat as a way to guide her.

Guide her in a specific direction.

To a specific room.

She was kind of hoping to catch sight of the swimming pool he'd mentioned all those years ago. She still remembered how funny she found the idea of a swimming pool in a library.

Instead, though, she found herself in what was very obviously a bedroom.

"It's a nice room," she murmured, not sure if the time machine would understand her.

A soft hum was the response, making her think it did.

"Okay, then."

She took in the room both curious and nervous. And a little relieved she seemed to have her own room. She wasn't sure what exactly she'd agreed to coming with him, but she certainly hoped he didn't think she had any intention of sleeping with him.

And sleeping with him was a bad thing to think about, because if he asked she'd probably agree. Alien Time Lord made no difference to her.

"Is this for me?"

Another hum, this one accompanied by a flicker of the room's lights.


She eyed it more intently now that she realized it was meant for her and not the TARDIS showing her something she couldn't have.

It was nothing outrageously fancy, but if she could dream up any room she could have this would be it. Roomy with a big bed (much bigger than hers) with a canopy like she'd always wanted as a girl. All the necessary furniture so she didn't have to cram all of her clothes and belongings into a dresser. There wasn't anything new in this room, everything was an antique. Even the bedside lamp, its glass lampshade with the tiny flowers painted on it.

There was a music box on the dresser. She opened it, realizing it was similar to the one a friend of hers had when they were girls. Amy had wanted one of her own so very much, but she hadn't been cut out for ballet and a music box never did make it under the tree.

She wound it, letting it play its tinny sounding tune, watching for a second as the figurine twirled and danced to the music.

She spotted a vanity with a beautifully sculpted mirror atop it. Various bottles and jars were on it, nothing she didn't recognize as being makeup and what not. There was one expensive bottle of perfume. More expensive than she'd ever been able to afford. She'd splurged and bought herself the smallest bottle available just a month ago. It was her gift to herself amidst all the craziness. This wasn't a little bottle, though, she noticed removing the stopper and dabbing a bit on either wrist.

She looked up when the music box's tune came to an end, getting slower and slower as the wind-up mechanism was running out of steam. A doorway other than the one she came through caught her eye and she walked to it. She expected a closet but found a full bathroom instead, towels a nice match to the bedding in the other room.

"Nice," she murmured, glancing at everything there. And the shower! It was one of those glass jobs that she'd always admired. It was tempting to try it out, but that could wait until later.

She walked to the bed then, running her hand over the pillowcase. Surely, it couldn't be.


She'd died and gone to heaven. Canopy bed. Her favorite perfume. A music box. All of these things for her.

There were even frilly, lacey throw pillows!

She kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The scene above her was tranquil, peaceful. Stars amidst the night sky. She'd always preferred stars and the moon to the sun. Was it painted? A figment of her imagination? Would the TARDIS change the design? Or would she change the design by willing it to be something different?

She joined her hands at her abdomen, sighing a little. She didn't want to experiment with that thought just yet. She liked the ceiling the way it was and she was afraid if she started thinking of what else she'd like to see up there that it would change.

It was too good to be true. All of this. For her. And yet, she knew this was exactly that. For her.

Her room. The way she wanted it, not the way anyone else wanted it to be.

A light knock on the door brought her out of her thoughts.

"Come in," she said.

Was there someone else but the Doctor here? She hadn't really thought to ask, though everything he said pointing to his being alone.

Sure enough her Doctor opened the door. He'd lost the jacket but still wore the bowtie. Maybe just to spite her since she'd commented on it.

"Hi," he said simply.


"Find everything okay?"

"I think so," she said, running her fingers along the duvet beneath her. "This is mine, right?"

"The duvet?"

She smiled a little, brushing some hair out of her eyes. "The room."


"How does it do it?"

"She. You mean how does she do it." He shrugged, sliding a hand into one of his trousers pockets. He stepped into the room then, glancing around. She realized it was the first time he'd seen it this way as well. She felt a little exposed just then, realizing how much this room said about her.

"Yeah, she."

He shrugged, walking to the music box. He regarded it, taking the screwdriver thingy from his pocket.

"No, don't," she said quickly.

"You sure?"


"All right then. Anyway, she just knows. Gets in your head. You know. She just knows. Is there something amiss?"

"No, not at all. It's perfect."

"So then she did well?"


"Good," he said. "Want something to eat? Drink? Need anything she didn't think of?"

"I'm fine, but I'd like to explore more if that's all right."

"Still looking for that pool, Amy Pond?"

"Something like that, yeah," she said with a smile.

"I'll join you as she's essentially new to me as well."

"Sure," she said, standing from the bed.

"Jeans, huh?"

"Yeah, there something wrong with them?" she asked, glancing at them curiously. They seemed fine to her. Fit right and everything.

"Oh, I don't know, would have been nice to see that French maid's costume you mentioned I think."

~The End~