A/N: The second oneshot based on some theories I had on the Doctor's room in The God Complex.
"You don't know what's going to be in your room until you see it, and then you realise it could never have been anything else."
The Doctor swallowed, surveying the scene in front of him. The room was dull, grey concrete, nothing remarkable at all. But it was the contents of the room that made the Doctor's stomach roil. He fought down the urge to retch, attempting to divert his eyes. But they were everywhere. Just…lying there. Adric. Sarah Jane. Susan. Victoria. Donna. Martha. Rose. Mel. Ace. Peri. Tegan. Their sightless eyes staring, unseeing, at the ceiling. Every single person he had ever taken into the TARDIS, taken into his hearts, and travelled with. Jack. Craig. Ben. Polly. Jamie. Romana. Turlough. Some dead from bullet wounds and gaping gashes, some dead from injuries far less apparent. But all dead because of him. The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, but the images of the broken, bloodied bodies seemed to be tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. He heard Rory's voice, soft, as if it was far away. It was pleading, and the Doctor reluctantly opening his eyes, making to leave the room. He suspected that Amy and Rory were searching for him. But then he noticed the figure in the far corner of the room. Curiosity betrayed him, and the Time Lord started forward, his boots stepping in the sticky blood that had once filled his companions with such life, such adventure. The light in the room was dim to start with, but this corner seemed even darker. The Doctor could just about pick out the outline of a person moving towards him, holding something. What he saw made his hearts stop.
"Rory?" the Doctor breathed.
Rory stepped out of the darker shadows, Amy in his arms.
"She's dead, Doctor," Rory announced, monotone as he gestured at Amy in his arms "you've finally gone and killed her."
The Doctor noticed a dark red bloodstain growing on Rory's shirt, a sure sign that he was bleeding.
"Rory," the Doctor whispered "I am so sorry. I never meant this to happen,"
"Well it did, Doctor," Rory retorted angrily.
The weight of his wife in his arms finally became too much for Rory in his weakened state, and he lowered the cold body to the ground. The Doctor's eyes were on him the entire time. He wanted to help, to take Amy from him, help him set her on the ground; Rory was clearly flagging, but the Doctor was rooted to the spot.
This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real. The Doctor repeated the phrase over and over again in his head, reminding himself that Rory and Amy- the real Rory and Amy- were most likely looking for him outside in the rest of the hotel.
"I told you before, Doctor," Rory continued, the anger still evident in his tone "in Venice. You make people want to impress you, they don't want to let you down. These people were a danger to themselves the second they agreed to travel with you"
Rory gestured around the room at the battered remains of the Doctor's companions. Before the Doctor could speak, Rory continued talking.
"The moment these people stepped inside the TARDIS, they were already dead, weren't they, Doctor? Their fate was already sealed. You made these people a risk to themselves; they were so keen to impress you that they forgot everyone they left behind for you, they forgot the people who would miss them, mourn them when you brought their broken bodies back home and, with a slight tear in your eye, carefully inform them that their child, their partner, their sibling was dead. And then, while they were mourning, you would see yourself out, get back in that damned blue box of yours and fly away. Sooner or later, you'd pick up another companion and the circle starts again. When will you learn, Doctor? Being around you makes people dangerous! You made Amy dangerous, you made me dangerous!"
"Rory, listen," the Doctor tried to cut in.
"No, Doctor! You listen to me! Before you fell into my life, I was happy! Yeah, ok, I had to grow up listening to Amy's stories about you, but that was part of being a child, making up stories! And then, twelve years later, you crash back into her life, without so much as an apology! You saved us from the monsters and then flew off again. And, yet again, I was the one who had to pick up the pieces, it was me who comforted her when you didn't return again, me who convinced her that she wasn't going mad, me who had to encourage her to continue with a normal life! You never give a damn about the people you leave behind, Doctor! You never look back, you just go on with your new companions. But it's not so easy adjusting to 'normal' life again, Doctor, you never consider those who are left with your companions, left to deal with the aftermath of the chaos and destruction you leave in your wake. You never see the devastation you leave behind when you drop off your companions; the devastation that fills them as they watch that blue box of yours fade away and finally- finally- they realise that that's it. Game over. No more adventures. No more Doctor. No more anything. They will never see you again. Because that's what you do, you never look back, you just run and run and run. Well, Doctor, take a look around this room! Nowhere to run this time, Time Lord! Just you, alone, in this room with the ghosts of your past!"
And with that, Rory staggered slightly and sank to the floor, gasping for breath. This time, the Doctor did start forward, hand on Rory's arm.
"Let me help you," the Doctor told his friend tenderly.
"Bit late for that, Doctor," Rory told him, gasping out a laugh.
"What do you mean?" the Doctor asked.
Rory's eyes rolled back in his head.
"Rory! What do you mean?" the Doctor repeated, louder this time. Desperate.
"We called, Doctor," Rory whispered, forcing his eyes open with great effort "we called but you didn't come. Because that's not what you do, is it? You never go back. Not after you've left your companions behind,"
Rory groaned, and it was then that the Doctor noticed a pool of blood spreading out from around his feet, and Rory's stomach.
"You called," the Doctor whispered, allowing the words to sink in.
"We called," Rory confirmed weakly.
"Oh, Rory, I'm so sorry! I…I never meant any of this to happen! None of this was meant to happen!" as the Doctor spoke, his voice got louder, and he gestured round the room at the bodies angrily "But it'll be alright, Rory, I promise…Rory?"
The Doctor looked down at the young man at his feet. The man's face was pale, his eyes closed, and as the Doctor knelt down to touch Rory's face, he realised how cold his skin was.
"I'm so sorry, Rory." The Doctor whispered.
Because Rory had been right. He never looked back, he just picked up a new companion and off he went. And he hated himself for it.
Amy's Scottish tones rung down the corridor and the Doctor looked up in shock, momentarily glancing at the deceased form of Amelia Pond lying beside her husband. And then he remembered that none of this was real. None of it. It was a nightmare. He straightened up, grinning, and hurried from the room, pulling the door shut behind him. However as he caught a glimpse of the dead bodies of his former companions, his grin slipped. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his bowtie and set off down the corridor. It was time to get out of this hotel.