Fic: We're All A Little Mad Here (4/?)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Amy/Rory, hints of Amy/Eleven
Cheer Section/Beta: themuslimbarbie
Part Three
A/N: This was written between shifts at work and on a train. I hope you enjoy it. I still don’t own Doctor Who, and Neil Gaiman belongs only to himself. There are several references to ‘The Doctor’s Wife’ ahead, points to the person who can spot them all (bonus if you point them out in a comment). Parts were inspired by Arthur Dent’s experience with a bulldozer. And as to the last line: I couldn't resist. Forgive me?
Tl;dr: Not mine. Read. Comment. Recommend.
We will be restoring normality as soon as we’re sure what normal is anyway- Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
They’re going to visit Darwin, in 1835 during his time on Galapagos Island - so naturally when Amy opens the doors to see a beige corridor that smelt of disinfectant and sickness, she complains.
“Doctor, you seriously need to work on your driving.”
The Doctor looks at her strangely. “Amy, I think you’ll find that my piloting is impeccable. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,” he says, slowly and carefully.
“But we’re going to Galapagos. Not to some bloody corridor!” Amy says, feeling a bit unsure of herself despite the fact that she can clearly see they’re in the wrong time and place.
“Amelia,” the Doctor smiles, “Look again.”
Look again. A little voice in the back of her head echoes.
Amy looks.
Where the drab corridor stretched into the middle distance, there is now a path through trees under clear blue skies.
“Huh. You’re right,” Amy says. “My eyes must be playing tricks on me again.”
The Doctor laughs indulgently. “Of course, Pond. Shall we?” he gestures out the still open doors.
“Let’s go.” Amy says, suiting word to action and heading out into the sunlight.
………………………
They’re running through a rainforest being chased by an over-evolved turtle. Or tortoise. Amy’s never been clear on the difference.
The Doctor is running besides her, whooping and hollering in a strangely joyful war cry.
Amy doesn’t know exactly where she’s running to, except away. As they run - the trees blur to green and brown blobs at the edge of her vision.
(Occasionally, the blur becomes the corridor, now lined with doors but she’s always running too fast to read what they say. She ignores it and continues to run, run, RUN.)
They reach a fence and scramble over it. The turtloise cannot climb. The Doctor watches it attempt to flatten the fence with great amusement, before he grabs her hand and hauls her away.
Amy’s free hand trails behind her - waiting for someone to catch it in theirs. It isn’t until the Doctor tugs her hand and laughs a ‘come on Pond!’ over his shoulder that she remembers there is no-one to grab it.
There never was.
She runs on.
………………………
She’s tired now. Tired of seeing things in the corner of her eye that are never really there, tired of the endless running, tired of having to ignore what common sense is telling her. She’s just tired.
She’s going to bed - walking down the hallway that leads to her bedroom, shuffling along steadily towards warm sheets and comfy pillows, head tilted to the floor bathed in warm coral light - when the hallway flickers, like it is a cheap light bulb in a thunderstorm.
Amy blinks.
The hallway flickers again - going entirely dark for a second.
When the lights come back on (fluorescent white rather than comforting orange, she notes) there are two hallways in front of her. They overlap and merge curiously, sometimes more one than the other, before separating abruptly.
Amy blinks again, and rubs her eyes.
Her vision settles, and the TARDIS hallway remains constant around her.
Must be more tired than I thought, she thinks carefully. I’ll feel better in the morning.
She shuffles into her room, and collapses into bed fully dressed. She is asleep in seconds.
………………………
Amy yawns and stretches, rubbing her eyes whilst climbing out of the narrow bed and heading into the bathroom.
Once inside, she absently removes her pyjamas before stepping into the shower cubicle. Turning the water as hot as possible, she luxuriates in the steamy heat that brings her mostly awake and sooths her tense muscles.
She gets out of the shower and dresses in a pair of shapeless jeans and an alarmingly baggy jumper before turning to head to the kitchen in search of tea. And the Doctor. (But mostly tea, she’s got priorities after all.)
The door leading out of the room is locked. The handle stubbornly refuses to turn.
Amy rattles it, offended that the TARDIS is playing silly buggers again and has clearly locked her in. With a sigh, she stomps to the bed, intending to read until the TARDIS opens the door or the Doctor notices she was missing and comes looking for her.
Which will take a while, she admits. Better get comfortable.
She flops onto the bed, wriggling to find a suitable reading position.
Beds got lumpy. Bloody time machine. She grumbles.
It is only when she reaches for her book - a collection of short stories by Neil Gaiman - that she realises something is very wrong.
The book is not where she left it.
She halts her movements, and sits upright on the bed her hands clasped in her lap and her legs folded.
Nothing in the room is right.
Instead of her large bedroom with purple walls and a thick carpet - the one she had claimed as soon as she found it on her second adventure around the TARDIS’s never-ending maze of hallways - the room is small, with beige walls and a plain carpet that looks worn thin by years of use.
Her room has several sturdy shelves lining its walls, all filled with odds and ends she had collected or been given on her travels and photos of all the places she has been. This room had once shabby chest of drawers that contained her clothes and had a fruit bowl (containing two wrinkled Satsuma’s and a bruised apple), a plastic pitcher of water with cup, and a comb.
Where the trans-spatial window should be showing the view from outside the TARDIS, there is simply a blank wall.
Amy begins to shake as she accepts the fact that she is most certainly not on the TARDIS anymore.
The doorknob rattles, and the sound of a bolt being released draws her attention firmly away from the unnaturalness of the room.
The indistinct shape she can see through the mottled glass of the door knocks twice softly, before entering without waiting for a response from her.
A young woman dressed in a blue uniform walks in, carrying a tray.
“Good morning Amelia! How are you today?” she chatters brightly, still clearly not expecting any reply. “For breakfast today you’ve got a little bacon roll and a banana with orange juice. I know you hate apples. The doctor will be performing his rounds in about an hour, so don’t rush,” she continues, setting the tray on the wheeled table where her bedside cabinet should be.
Up close, Amy can read the name badge pinned to her uniform.
Junior Nurse L Bucket.
The sensible flat shoes and little watch clipped upside down to her top pocket all confirm what the name badge is telling her. This woman is definitely a nurse.
Nurse Bucket is oblivious to Amy’s wide eyed scrutiny, as she bustles around the room straightening the few items on the chest of drawers whilst continuing to chatter away about what is going to happen that day.
Amy tunes her out until she mentions a familiar name.
“Oh yes,” she says, with the air of someone remembering something important, “Your Aunt - Sharon is it? - she’s scheduled to visit this afternoon as well.”
Amy blinks.
Aunt Sharon? Visit? What the hell is this place? she thinks fearfully.
The nurse is still oblivious to Amy’s internal panic as she bids Amy goodbye and leaves the room, gently closing the door behind her.
Amy stares at the closed door for a moment, expecting to hear the sound of it being locked again. When it isn’t, she turns to the tray and begins to slowly eat her breakfast.
………………………
As she eats, she turns over possibilities in her mind of where she could be, and why the Doctor didn’t appear to be trying to rescue her.
What she comes up with is not comforting.
Option one: he doesn’t know she’s missing yet. (Reasonable, especially as she was taken from her bedroom. They have enough experience with time running at different paces in different places as well. She could have only been missing for a few minutes.)
Option 2: this is a dream. (Again, reasonable, but even her most boring dreams had aliens or time travel featuring in them somewhere. This place doesn’t appear to be in the present, and has human staff.)
What I really need to know, she thinks, is to figure out where I am. The door’s not locked and the nurse didn’t mention anything about me not leaving…
Creeping to the door, she gently turns the handle and peeks out. The sight that greets her makes her draw in a quick breath in shock. Just beyond the door is the corridor in the corner of her eye.
Not good, she thinks.
She steps out into the open, pulling the door to behind her. Now where does it lead? Let’s try left. There’s too much noise coming from the other direction.
Amy turns left and sneaks down the corridor, flinching every time she hears a loud noise.
At the end of the corridor she chooses to go right and opens a pair of doors onto another corridor. She continues to walk down it, glancing around looking for a clue as to what this building is.
She hears a noise coming from one of the rooms on her left.
Voices! Perhaps they’ll say something important.
She creeps to just outside the door and presses her ear to the wood. The sound is muffled, but audible.
“-shame about Miss Pond, I really thought we’d have seen improvement in her condition already,” a male voice says.
Another voice replies, “It’s only been ten days, and you said yourself she seemed more aware of her surroundings yesterday.”
The first voice: “I know I just wish I could help her get better. Everyone has given up on her, like she’s becoming a permanent fixture here. It’s such a shame. Hopefully she’ll improve some more today.”
“You’re a hopeless optimist. You’d better get going though, or gonna be late for rounds…..again,” the second voice teases.
Amy registers hearing the sound of movement, and attempts to stand up and move away from the door. Instead, her jeans catch underneath her feet and she falls over awkwardly.
The door opens and a middle aged man in a lab coat steps out. He spots her on the floor and immediately reaches down the help her up.
Amy shies away from the man, suddenly terribly afraid.
He stops. And looks at her kindly.
“Are you alright, Amy? Did you get lost? Come on, Pond. Let’s get you back to your room eh?” he says in a soothing tone of voice.
Amy whimpers and curls up into a small ball.
“Amy? Can you understand me? It’s Doctor Corsair. Idris Corsair. I’ve been taking care of you. You’re safe here, I promise.”
Amy shakes her head and tries to force herself to say something - anything.
“I….I w-want the D-Doctor!” she cries, “W-where am I?”
The man kneels down next to her. “You’re home, Amy. Everything’s going to be alright,” he says. “And which Doctor did you want? Shall I see if Doctor Williams is here? He’s probably on his way here already.”
Amy shakes her head again, bewildered that he could think she wanted to anyone but her Doctor.
She manages to speak past the lump in her throat. “No.”
“No? No what Amy? Tell me who you want to see and I’ll fetch them fast as I can, okay?” the man says, clearly confused.
“I w-want the Doctor!” She wails.
“The Doctor?” the man echoes, puzzlement clear on his face. “Doctor Who?”
Part Five
Pairing: Amy/Rory, hints of Amy/Eleven
Cheer Section/Beta: themuslimbarbie
Part Three
A/N: This was written between shifts at work and on a train. I hope you enjoy it. I still don’t own Doctor Who, and Neil Gaiman belongs only to himself. There are several references to ‘The Doctor’s Wife’ ahead, points to the person who can spot them all (bonus if you point them out in a comment). Parts were inspired by Arthur Dent’s experience with a bulldozer. And as to the last line: I couldn't resist. Forgive me?
Tl;dr: Not mine. Read. Comment. Recommend.
We will be restoring normality as soon as we’re sure what normal is anyway- Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
They’re going to visit Darwin, in 1835 during his time on Galapagos Island - so naturally when Amy opens the doors to see a beige corridor that smelt of disinfectant and sickness, she complains.
“Doctor, you seriously need to work on your driving.”
The Doctor looks at her strangely. “Amy, I think you’ll find that my piloting is impeccable. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,” he says, slowly and carefully.
“But we’re going to Galapagos. Not to some bloody corridor!” Amy says, feeling a bit unsure of herself despite the fact that she can clearly see they’re in the wrong time and place.
“Amelia,” the Doctor smiles, “Look again.”
Look again. A little voice in the back of her head echoes.
Amy looks.
Where the drab corridor stretched into the middle distance, there is now a path through trees under clear blue skies.
“Huh. You’re right,” Amy says. “My eyes must be playing tricks on me again.”
The Doctor laughs indulgently. “Of course, Pond. Shall we?” he gestures out the still open doors.
“Let’s go.” Amy says, suiting word to action and heading out into the sunlight.
………………………
They’re running through a rainforest being chased by an over-evolved turtle. Or tortoise. Amy’s never been clear on the difference.
The Doctor is running besides her, whooping and hollering in a strangely joyful war cry.
Amy doesn’t know exactly where she’s running to, except away. As they run - the trees blur to green and brown blobs at the edge of her vision.
(Occasionally, the blur becomes the corridor, now lined with doors but she’s always running too fast to read what they say. She ignores it and continues to run, run, RUN.)
They reach a fence and scramble over it. The turtloise cannot climb. The Doctor watches it attempt to flatten the fence with great amusement, before he grabs her hand and hauls her away.
Amy’s free hand trails behind her - waiting for someone to catch it in theirs. It isn’t until the Doctor tugs her hand and laughs a ‘come on Pond!’ over his shoulder that she remembers there is no-one to grab it.
There never was.
She runs on.
………………………
She’s tired now. Tired of seeing things in the corner of her eye that are never really there, tired of the endless running, tired of having to ignore what common sense is telling her. She’s just tired.
She’s going to bed - walking down the hallway that leads to her bedroom, shuffling along steadily towards warm sheets and comfy pillows, head tilted to the floor bathed in warm coral light - when the hallway flickers, like it is a cheap light bulb in a thunderstorm.
Amy blinks.
The hallway flickers again - going entirely dark for a second.
When the lights come back on (fluorescent white rather than comforting orange, she notes) there are two hallways in front of her. They overlap and merge curiously, sometimes more one than the other, before separating abruptly.
Amy blinks again, and rubs her eyes.
Her vision settles, and the TARDIS hallway remains constant around her.
Must be more tired than I thought, she thinks carefully. I’ll feel better in the morning.
She shuffles into her room, and collapses into bed fully dressed. She is asleep in seconds.
………………………
Amy yawns and stretches, rubbing her eyes whilst climbing out of the narrow bed and heading into the bathroom.
Once inside, she absently removes her pyjamas before stepping into the shower cubicle. Turning the water as hot as possible, she luxuriates in the steamy heat that brings her mostly awake and sooths her tense muscles.
She gets out of the shower and dresses in a pair of shapeless jeans and an alarmingly baggy jumper before turning to head to the kitchen in search of tea. And the Doctor. (But mostly tea, she’s got priorities after all.)
The door leading out of the room is locked. The handle stubbornly refuses to turn.
Amy rattles it, offended that the TARDIS is playing silly buggers again and has clearly locked her in. With a sigh, she stomps to the bed, intending to read until the TARDIS opens the door or the Doctor notices she was missing and comes looking for her.
Which will take a while, she admits. Better get comfortable.
She flops onto the bed, wriggling to find a suitable reading position.
Beds got lumpy. Bloody time machine. She grumbles.
It is only when she reaches for her book - a collection of short stories by Neil Gaiman - that she realises something is very wrong.
The book is not where she left it.
She halts her movements, and sits upright on the bed her hands clasped in her lap and her legs folded.
Nothing in the room is right.
Instead of her large bedroom with purple walls and a thick carpet - the one she had claimed as soon as she found it on her second adventure around the TARDIS’s never-ending maze of hallways - the room is small, with beige walls and a plain carpet that looks worn thin by years of use.
Her room has several sturdy shelves lining its walls, all filled with odds and ends she had collected or been given on her travels and photos of all the places she has been. This room had once shabby chest of drawers that contained her clothes and had a fruit bowl (containing two wrinkled Satsuma’s and a bruised apple), a plastic pitcher of water with cup, and a comb.
Where the trans-spatial window should be showing the view from outside the TARDIS, there is simply a blank wall.
Amy begins to shake as she accepts the fact that she is most certainly not on the TARDIS anymore.
The doorknob rattles, and the sound of a bolt being released draws her attention firmly away from the unnaturalness of the room.
The indistinct shape she can see through the mottled glass of the door knocks twice softly, before entering without waiting for a response from her.
A young woman dressed in a blue uniform walks in, carrying a tray.
“Good morning Amelia! How are you today?” she chatters brightly, still clearly not expecting any reply. “For breakfast today you’ve got a little bacon roll and a banana with orange juice. I know you hate apples. The doctor will be performing his rounds in about an hour, so don’t rush,” she continues, setting the tray on the wheeled table where her bedside cabinet should be.
Up close, Amy can read the name badge pinned to her uniform.
Junior Nurse L Bucket.
The sensible flat shoes and little watch clipped upside down to her top pocket all confirm what the name badge is telling her. This woman is definitely a nurse.
Nurse Bucket is oblivious to Amy’s wide eyed scrutiny, as she bustles around the room straightening the few items on the chest of drawers whilst continuing to chatter away about what is going to happen that day.
Amy tunes her out until she mentions a familiar name.
“Oh yes,” she says, with the air of someone remembering something important, “Your Aunt - Sharon is it? - she’s scheduled to visit this afternoon as well.”
Amy blinks.
Aunt Sharon? Visit? What the hell is this place? she thinks fearfully.
The nurse is still oblivious to Amy’s internal panic as she bids Amy goodbye and leaves the room, gently closing the door behind her.
Amy stares at the closed door for a moment, expecting to hear the sound of it being locked again. When it isn’t, she turns to the tray and begins to slowly eat her breakfast.
………………………
As she eats, she turns over possibilities in her mind of where she could be, and why the Doctor didn’t appear to be trying to rescue her.
What she comes up with is not comforting.
Option one: he doesn’t know she’s missing yet. (Reasonable, especially as she was taken from her bedroom. They have enough experience with time running at different paces in different places as well. She could have only been missing for a few minutes.)
Option 2: this is a dream. (Again, reasonable, but even her most boring dreams had aliens or time travel featuring in them somewhere. This place doesn’t appear to be in the present, and has human staff.)
What I really need to know, she thinks, is to figure out where I am. The door’s not locked and the nurse didn’t mention anything about me not leaving…
Creeping to the door, she gently turns the handle and peeks out. The sight that greets her makes her draw in a quick breath in shock. Just beyond the door is the corridor in the corner of her eye.
Not good, she thinks.
She steps out into the open, pulling the door to behind her. Now where does it lead? Let’s try left. There’s too much noise coming from the other direction.
Amy turns left and sneaks down the corridor, flinching every time she hears a loud noise.
At the end of the corridor she chooses to go right and opens a pair of doors onto another corridor. She continues to walk down it, glancing around looking for a clue as to what this building is.
She hears a noise coming from one of the rooms on her left.
Voices! Perhaps they’ll say something important.
She creeps to just outside the door and presses her ear to the wood. The sound is muffled, but audible.
“-shame about Miss Pond, I really thought we’d have seen improvement in her condition already,” a male voice says.
Another voice replies, “It’s only been ten days, and you said yourself she seemed more aware of her surroundings yesterday.”
The first voice: “I know I just wish I could help her get better. Everyone has given up on her, like she’s becoming a permanent fixture here. It’s such a shame. Hopefully she’ll improve some more today.”
“You’re a hopeless optimist. You’d better get going though, or gonna be late for rounds…..again,” the second voice teases.
Amy registers hearing the sound of movement, and attempts to stand up and move away from the door. Instead, her jeans catch underneath her feet and she falls over awkwardly.
The door opens and a middle aged man in a lab coat steps out. He spots her on the floor and immediately reaches down the help her up.
Amy shies away from the man, suddenly terribly afraid.
He stops. And looks at her kindly.
“Are you alright, Amy? Did you get lost? Come on, Pond. Let’s get you back to your room eh?” he says in a soothing tone of voice.
Amy whimpers and curls up into a small ball.
“Amy? Can you understand me? It’s Doctor Corsair. Idris Corsair. I’ve been taking care of you. You’re safe here, I promise.”
Amy shakes her head and tries to force herself to say something - anything.
“I….I w-want the D-Doctor!” she cries, “W-where am I?”
The man kneels down next to her. “You’re home, Amy. Everything’s going to be alright,” he says. “And which Doctor did you want? Shall I see if Doctor Williams is here? He’s probably on his way here already.”
Amy shakes her head again, bewildered that he could think she wanted to anyone but her Doctor.
She manages to speak past the lump in her throat. “No.”
“No? No what Amy? Tell me who you want to see and I’ll fetch them fast as I can, okay?” the man says, clearly confused.
“I w-want the Doctor!” She wails.
“The Doctor?” the man echoes, puzzlement clear on his face. “Doctor Who?”
Part Five