Word Count: 765
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Note: Don't ask. Not really sure where this came from. Unbeta'd.

He tells himself that he's the Doctor. Because he is. He always has been. There is no one else in this world–in this universe–who can say that. There is only him. At least now there is.

He does everything he can to adjust. And most of the time it's easy. This is what he wanted, after all–a human life, one that he can share with his Rose. And they're happy. Married with a child and all. Living the life she's always dreamed of.

But sometimes, just sometimes, it's something else entirely. Sometimes he forgets, he wakes up in the morning and doesn't understand why he isn't in his TARDIS or why he can't find his Old Girl. Sometimes he feels so tired and old and slow. Sometimes he presses his hand against his chest and listens. He listens and listens and waits for the second heart beat.

He never hears it.


He dreams his other self's dreams. (At least he assumes they're his dreams, because he knows they can't be his.) Which isn't possible; at least it shouldn't be. He doesn't know how or why it happens, but it does. The first hundred times, it drives him mad. He spends countless hours, nights, months trying to solve the puzzle, never to make any progress. After six months, he gives up and just accepts the dreams.

In these dreams, he meets Liz the Tenth, he sees River Song and the Angels again, he flies the Pandorica into this TARDIS. He only remembers snippets of it when he wakes up, little flashes here and there (human memories are so...fickle), but there is always, and he means always, one thing that remains the same:

A girl.

He travels the universe with a girl with bright red hair and an attitude just as firey. She isn't impressed with his babblings and she flirts with anyone within her reach (which is usually him). She's loud and passionate and drives him absolutely mad; she's everything young and Scottish bottled into one ginger, leggy package. She's there–laughing at him, arguing with him, smirking at him–every night he sleeps.

Amy Pond, the girl of his dreams.


He never tells Rose about his dreams. Part of him knows that he should, but he doesn't.

He doesn't because he knows her and he knows she would want to know everything. How is he doing? Where is he now? What adventures has he gotten himself into lately? She'd want to know every last detail about the man, the Doctor, who could have been hers. Does he still think about me?

Or is there someone else now?

And he knows he could never do it. Never look her in the eye and lie to her. And he'd have to lie to her. He couldn't tell her about the firey ginger who has taken over his mind. It would destroy everything, every happy, beautiful moment in their lives. And he can't do that. Not now. Not after everything they've been through. After all they've fought to have this life.

So he keeps his mouth shut and never mentions the dreams to his wife.


He's eating his lunch at a nearby café when it happens.

He hears the chair slide and looks up just in time to see a young, attractive girl sit across from him. She gives him a tight smile and mumbles for him to just play along. He stares at her with wide eyes and a what slips out of his lips. Because this isn't possible. This isn't actually supposed to happen.

She ignores him and lets out a chuckle (and it should sound real, but, for some reason, he can tell it isn't) and calls him a moron. She tells him some story about her cat, Bagels, which he barely catches. Out of the corner of his eyes, he notices a group of annoyed girls watching them and he finally understands. They glare at the back of her head for a second before they huff and turn off.

It barely takes her a moment longer to ask if they've left. He nods and she relaxes back into her chair. She looks up at him with a bright smile and, for a moment, he forgets to breathe, because there is absolutely no doubt left in his mind. It doesn't matter that this is the wrong universe, they're not the right people, that this probably isn't supposed to be happening, because he knows. He knows exactly who this girl is.

Because, you see, the Doctor's found his Amy Pond.