A/N: This is my first ever DW fic, so please excuse me for errors in characterization and canon!
"Does this place have a wardrobe?" Amy looked around, and gingerly touched her hair. And grimaced. "And a shower?"
The Doctor looked up and grinned. "Straight down there and to the left," he answered, pointing vaguely in the direction she should take, although she was slightly suspicious by the fact that he wasn't actually looking.
"Okay," she headed down one of the 'corridors' that the Doctor's box – he called it a TARDIS, although that meant nothing to her anyway – seemed to have and then turned left. She glanced back at him, his face a picture of mad joy and concentration, although he didn't seem so – she thought for a word to use – hyper, as previously. His bubbly exterior seemed to have been slightly dampened by what had happened earlier. Understandably.
Amy pushed open the door and walked in. Her eyes widened. How big is this thing? She wondered, referring to the TARDIS that seemed so small on the outside, yet on the inside… magnificent. She was beginning to agree with the Doctor when he had called it a 'sexy thing.' It was amazing. There was no other word for it.
After starting the shower, locking the door firmly and undressing, she stepped into the warm water and as it covered her skin, removing the Star Whale vomit and food that had been there from her first 'adventure' she began to think about everything. Rory. Rory. The boy – a man now – who had always been there for her and had never left her. Even when he knew that he would never be her first choice. He was so kind, so caring, so loving and yet… and yet he had never been the one.
Her thoughts went to her day. It had been a day like no other. Realization. Her eyes had been opened to the universe in its entirety; she had travelled through time and space, helped save the human race and – she smiled to herself – all while wearing her nightie. Which admittedly hadn't been the most dignifying this to be wearing.
She washed the disgusting mess from her hair using the shampoo and conditioner that, conveniently, had been already in the shower and pushed open the shower door and reached for a towel. Her waving hand found no towel, yet after a few seconds a soft, warm mass touched her hand. She took it, wrapped in around herself and opened her eyes. And screamed.
"What the?!" she glared at the Doctor, open mouthed. He spun around to face her and stepped back.
"Woah," he looked her up and down.
"Turn around!" she exclaimed and he grinned. "I locked the door! How did you get in?"
"You didn't lock the door," he disagreed with her as he turned around so she faced his back.
"I did. I definitely did. I positively remember doing it!" she didn't move, but just held the towel tightly around herself. "You used your screwdriver-y thing!"
"I wouldn't do a thing like that," the Doctor answered. She couldn't see his face but she would bet her whole life's saving that he was grinning. Probably like a madman.
"Out!" Amy pointed directly at the door even though he couldn't see and promptly stopped pointing so she could hold her towel up with both hands as it threatened to slip. Holding her towel tightly, she pushed him out of the door and shut it firmly behind him. She then locked it and tried to open it. It didn't. "See? Locked!"
"Yeah, yeah," he chuckled and she listened until she heard his footsteps fade.
She looked around and headed towards a pair of wooden doors. She opened them and looked inside.
Her mouth opened into a wide 'O' at the racks and drawers of clothes. She picked out a skirt at random: her size. She returned it, carefully folded. She glanced at the spot where the Doctor had stood and wondered how he knew her clothes size… or the TARDIS knew it. She didn't feel like thinking about it now, her day had been mind-blowing enough already.
She picked out some matching black lace underwear, a short stressed denim miniskirt and a white sweetheart camisole. Dressing quickly, she towel dried her hair and brushed it through a few times until it looked relatively acceptable. She picked out a pair of simple black ballet pumps and slipped her feet into them. Folding the towel neatly over the towel rail, she unlocked the door and walked back the way she had come to return to the Doctor.
"Recovered yet?" she asked, and he spun round to face her.
"Well, hello!" he exclaimed and she rolled her eyes. He smiled at her. "I see you found the wardrobe well enough."
"Apparently I did," she smiled and did a twirl and pretended not to notice the way the Doctor's eyes widened slightly. "So, what's your real name then?"
"I'm the Doctor," he answered and she leaned back on the console next to him.
"No, really," Amy continued. "Name, now."
"No, really. The Doctor," he answered and Amy noted that he was now concentrating very closely on the screen in front of him. Rather than her legs, which had been his eyes' previous concentration spot.
"That's a profession, not a name," Amy replied, crossing her right leg over her left.
"It's all I have," he said, his gaze fixed on the numbers travelling up the screen and his fingers tapping at the keys at a speed that Amy doubted she'd be able to do even if she was just hitting random keys.
"So, your name," she continued. "Is it, like, need to know?"
"Yes, whatever," the Doctor shrugged and looked her straight in the eyes. "And you don't need to know."
His harsh, cold tone surprised her. She had seen him bubbly and crazy, furious and angry, but this was something else. There was something in his voice that she hadn't heard before; something that dared her to ever ask again.
But she would ask again. They both knew that.
Because she was Amy Pond. She was the Girl Who Waited.
She stood up and walked a little way away. Behind her, she heard him move.
"Look, Amelia-" he began but she cut him off.
"My name is Amy. And it's fine," her voice was a reminder to him of the way he had just spoken to her, and he regretted it. He had regretted shouting at her earlier, and threatening to take her home. But he had done it.
She walked off, looking at things as she passed. Amy picked up a framed photo.
"Who are these two?" she asked, turning and almost walking into him. She hadn't realized that he had followed her.
His fingers brushed lightly on the glass covering the faces. "Her name was Rose," he said after a silence.
"And him?" Amy asked, pointing to the dark haired man next to her.
"Me," he replied and she turned to look at him.
"No," she disagreed. "It can't be!"
"It is. You remember when I first met you?" she nodded.
"Of course," Amy grinned and he continued.
"And I said I was 'still cooking?'" he asked and she nodded again. "What happened was… I regenerated. That is what I did look like."
She didn't reply and he guessed that she was still taking it all in.
Finally she spoke.
"So, she was like me?" she looked up at him. The Raggedy Doctor. Her fairytale.
"You are nothing like Rose," the Doctor answered, smiling sadly.
"No, I meant did she travel with you? Like I am?" he nodded and she put the picture down again.
"I see," she said before going silent. He waited. "What happened to her?"
"I lost her," the Doctor replied, and Amy's forehead creased, attempting to understand his vagueness. "We were… separated. I left her. At Bad Wolf Bay."
"Why did you have to leave her?" Amy asked, looking up at him.
"I don't want to talk about it," he said firmly.
"You're going to have to tell me sometime or other," she exclaimed. "Do you expect me to automatically trust you?"
"I do not have to explain myself to you!" she almost jumped back at his shout.
"I'm travelling with you, through damn space and time and you expect me to just follow you around?!" She wasn't going to just take it this time.
"YES!" he yelled back and she could feel heated tears pricking at her eyelids. "I should have sent you back to Leadworth!"
"You wouldn't! You need me and you know it!" she shouted the words and before she knew what was happening his lips were on hers and she was responding just as fiercely.
Suddenly, she pushed him away.
"I can't," she whispered. "I can't."
"Why not?" he asked her.
"Because I can't!" Amy exclaimed.
"Why? You're the girl who waited, why?" he couldn't understand her suddenness at pushing him away.
"Because I'm getting married tomorrow!" she yelled.
"You… what?" the Doctor asked her. He stared at her. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because… I don't know," she turned away, tears threatening to spill. "Because I didn't want to. Maybe I just didn't want you to know!"
He walked away, silently.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I am."
"There's only one person to blame," he finally looked at her. She waited. "Me."
A/N: Feedback is much appreciated! I hope you liked the fic!