44. Snap Back to Reality.

The Doctor groaned and opened his eyes blearily. He couldn't see anything. He blinked several times, shaking his head, and was relieved when his vision began to return, though he soon regretted it. The light of the TARDIS, dim though it was in her protest against his and the Master's treatment of her, burned his eyes, sent needles shooting through his retinas and into the very back of his skull.

He swallowed, squinting against the pain. His throat felt like sandpaper, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His head pounded, and he felt the back with his hand. He squinted at it. No blood.

So why had he been left unconscious on the floor of his TARDIS?

Slowly, the world spinning around him, he managed to lever himself up onto his elbows, and gazed around the room in confusion. It felt as though there was something lurking at the back of his mind, that he had forgotten something important. But he couldn't for the lives of him work out what it was.

The room was in complete disarray; nuts and bolts were strewn across the floor, tools mingling among them, what looked like a tool box overturned in the corner. The console lightly dripped sparks at regular intervals. His mouth dropped open.

Had he done this?

He tried to push himself to his feet, and got as far as his knees before his spinning head forced him back to the ground. He groaned again, feeling the sound reverberating through his chest and head. He tried to swallow back the dizziness and coughed when his throat refused to cooperate.

The TARDIS shuddered lightly.

The Doctor painfully lifted his head. "What happened?"

The TARDIS slowly deepened their telepathic connection, as though afraid of him, and the Doctor felt a wave of apprehension, though he was no longer sure if it was his own. Slowly, the events that he had forgotten filled his mind, and the Doctor felt his sense of apprehension deepening. As well as his sense of dread. No, no no no. This can't have happened, could it? Did he really brutally take apart the TARDIS, rewire her and try to leave Amy and Rory despite the old girl's protests? Did he really let the Master out?

Strength shot through the Doctor's body, propelling him to his hands and knees as he scrabbled around the mess of parts to find his key. He patted down his pockets desperately. It wasn't there.

"Master?"

No reply.

He had a bad feeling about this.

"Show me the security camera for the Master's cell," the Doctor croaked. An image flickered onto one of the console screens, and he hauled himself to his feet, squinting. "Oh."

The TARDIS whined, as if to confirm his worst fears and berate him at the same time.

"Oh. Well…" He sighed. "This is very not good."

oOo

Amy cracked open one eye warily. Sunlight was weakly streaming through a gap in the curtains. Morning, then. She groaned. She hated mornings now. Back on the TARDIS with the Doctor, she had bounced of bed every morning at the crack of dawn, dragging a very unenthusiastic Rory with her. But mornings now were boring. Boring and depressing. Ever since the Doctor had left, every morning had become a Monday. No, she decided, worse than a Monday. An early morning three-hour exam Monday. That's what this was. Only without the uplifting feeling that it would soon be over.

Because the Doctor had been gone for three weeks now. Three weeks, and not a word. And she had to admit to herself that she was very angry. He never did things by halves. Months travelling around with them, then months with nothing. Years, sometimes, when he wasn't paying attention to his monitors. And she hated it. But she hated this more. This time, he had run off, ill, tortured, hurting, and taken a time machine and psychopathic Time Lord with him.

She sighed. Most people just had breakdowns in a corner, nice, easy to deal with sobbing. He went on joyrides with prisoners.

And she also had to admit that she was getting just a little bit worried. Just a bit. Not too much though. Because she knew he would come back, that he would fix the situation. He was the Doctor. He had to.

But what if this was the one time he didn't? What if, in a moment of madness or desperation, he had let the Master out? What if his physical condition, or the Master, had caught up with him? She couldn't bear to think of it. So she didn't.

Behind her, Rory snuffled in his sleep. She couldn't help the small smile that came to her face, despite it all. Rory had been a rock, a real support. He'd been constantly by her side, comforting her, telling her that everything would be all right, that this was the Doctor, he'd been through worse. Remember that time, he would say, when the Doctor insulted that tribe and they'd chased him with a herd of those alien-things that looked like mammoths? Or the time when he got sentenced to death for treason and managed to escape from the prison cell without the TARDIS or the sonic screwdriver? He was good, he could do this.

But sometimes, she caught Rory looking worried, as well. When he thought she wasn't looking, she would see him sitting at the kitchen table, mug of tea forgotten in his hand as he stared at the spot where the TARDIS had been, the spot it had always been when he had come here in the past. The spot that was so conspicuously empty now. And she would have to hide behind the doorframe, blinking back tears herself, annoyed that this was even happening, annoyed that she could not be more help, and yet not sure how she could. She could only tell him the same things he was telling her, and neither of them believed them. Him saying it benefited them both.

River was still with them, surprisingly. Amy had half expected her to disappear with that strange time travel device that she had, and zap back off to the future to live her life. She already knew what would happen, after all. No, some part at the back of Amy's mind said, that's not fair. Of course it wasn't. Of course River was worried as well. But she made it feel uncannily like she wasn't. Perhaps she was just a good actor. Or perhaps Amy was a bad mother, blinded by her worry, and unable to comfort her daughter. After all, she'd missed her daughter's childhood, had never been there for her, not as a mother. Though a friend was better than nothing, it was nowhere near enough.

And she would never know what it was like to be a mother.

"Morning."

Rory was awake.

"Morning," she replied, and turned to face him.

He was blinking the sleep out of his eyes, smacking his lips, clearly feeling the need for a cup of tea already. A second later, she heard his stomach rumble.

She snorted. "Hungry?"

Rory buried his head further into the pillow. "That means getting up."

"Well you'd better," she told him harshly, though her grin made it obvious she was joking. "I'm not making you breakfast in bed. Not after the mess you made last time. Anyway, I'm the woman – you're supposed to make me breakfast in bed."

Rory lifted his hand. "I'll do it on your birthday."

"So loving."

Rory lifted his head reluctantly from the pillow and shifted to sit against the headboard. "You haven't opened the curtains."

"I know."

Rory looked at them apprehensively. Their window overlooked the spot where the TARDIS had once stood. "Maybe we should."

Amy shook her head. "River would have said something."

Rory looked at the clock. "It's six in the morning. She sleeps too, sometimes. She might not have heard anything."

Amy remained silent.

Rory sighed. "Breakfast?"

They both left the room together, leaving the curtains closed. Rory shut the door on their dark room, closing it gently, as if letting it close by itself would disturb any possibility of the Doctor being there when their curtains opened, as though he would fly away if he heard their door shut in despair.

Breakfast was a silent affair, the couple sitting morosely at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around their cups of tea for warmth even though the room was not remotely cold. River joined them later and sat at the head of the table, cutting her food into unnecessarily small pieces, pushing it around on her plate before eating it.

A small bang from somewhere in the house made Amy and Rory jump, Rory spilling tea over his hands.

"Post," River announced.

None of them went to get it.

Amy had no idea how long they all sat at that table, unmoving, silent, before she heard a sound that made her hair stand on end. She looked up, eyes wide, and made eye contact with Rory and River.

For a second, they were frozen. Then Amy saw River subtly draw out her gun as she stood.

"What's that for?" Amy asked, getting to her feet, frantically peering into the garden.

"We don't know which one it is," River replied simply.

Rory shifted nervously at the thought that this might be the Master, but Amy shook her head. "He wouldn't come back here, why would he? He'd take the TARDIS and do whatever he does when the Doctor isn't stopping him."

"He is known to gloat," River pointed out. "And I hate to say it, but we need to remember that the Doctor isn't himself at the moment."

Amy rounded on her daughter then. "That doesn't mean we shoot him."

"He's landed," Rory stated unnecessarily, as the TARDIS materialised in the garden with a thud.

They all exchanged a glance. River was still holding the gun.

"Do we go out?" Rory queried nervously.

"I'm going," Amy stated, and stepped out of the door before either of them could stop her.

She walked quickly but cautiously up to the TARDIS, her eyes trained on the still closed doors, wondering why no one had stepped out yet. Then she remembered the state the Doctor had last been in when he had left. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, trying not to think of what might be waiting for her behind those normally friendly doors.

"It's alright," River said, suddenly behind her shoulder. The gun was by her side, loosely grasped. Following Amy's gaze, she said, "I don't want to use it, believe me."

"If he is in a state," Rory added, joining River and gaze darting cautiously between the gun and doors, "he might see the gun as threatening."

"I know," River said. "But I'm not letting either of you get hurt."

Realising that that was the best they were going to get, Amy slowly pushed the door open and moved to step inside. River wordlessly held out her arm and shook her head. Reluctantly, Amy let her go through first.

"Ok," she heard River say in a low voice.

Amy cautiously stepped through, coughing as the smell of smoke assaulted her senses and worked its way to the very back of her throat, her eyes prickling. This wasn't good. She stepped further in, squinting in the light, struggling to see anything in front of her. Behind her, she heard Rory step inside and try to stifle a gasp.

"Over here!"

Amy raced over to River's voice. The latter was crouched on the ground next to a figure, and Amy's heart leapt into her mouth. Rory was at her side in an instant, scanning the body for any injuries.

"Is that…" She was unable to finish the thought.

She felt rather than saw River nod. "It's the Doctor."

Amy couldn't breathe. "Is he… is he injured?"

River had taken something out of her pocket and was scanning the Doctor's body, while Rory hovered anxiously nearby, clearly itching to take the Doctor's pulse himself, but wary that he would confuse the machine's readings.

"No more than when he left. A bit more dehydrated, but that's all."

Amy breathed a sigh of relief.

"He's waking up," Rory said suddenly.

Sure enough, the Doctor was stirring feebly, pulling his tweed jacket closer to his body as if he were cold. "No," he groaned, his eyelids flickering.

"Doctor?" River asked, crouching in front of him so that he could see her. "Can you hear me?"

"River?"

"Yes," River confirmed, her face a picture of seriousness, though there was anger in her eyes. "You came back."

The Doctor pushed himself onto his elbows, wheezing with the effort. "I'm back?"

"You don't remember?" Rory asked.

The Doctor pressed the heel of one hand to his temple, as though the contact would force the memories to the surface. "I've… been forgetting a lot lately. I remember…" he looked up, then, suddenly sheepish. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Amy agreed. She had meant her voice to be harsh, but it came out quiet, tearful and relieved. And she both hated and was glad of it. "You should be."

"Doctor, what happened?" River asked. "Where's the Master, why is the console dismantled?"

"She wouldn't let me leave," the Doctor said, beginning to wobble. Rory helped him into a sitting position against the console. "It seems I tried to fix that. And couldn't."

"You don't remember that either?" Rory asked, concerned. Despite the medical check that River had just performed, he was taking the Doctor's pulse.

"No," the Doctor breathed, his eyes closing.

River shook him gently awake. "And the Master?"

The Doctor's eyes were darting now, desperate. He tried to push himself off the console, but Rory kept him easily in a sitting position. "Gone."

River sucked in a breath. "The Master is gone? Did you let him out?"

The Doctor didn't reply. The TARDIS hummed. River's expression became thunderous. "Oh, when you're better, I'm going to kill you!"

The Doctor lowered his gaze, ashamed. "I know. I don't know…" He trailed off.

"You need help," Rory said simply. "If you didn't realise that before, surely you do now?"

The Doctor flinched. "Yes."

River cursed under breath, still thinking of the Master. "He could be anywhere!"

"Then we'll never find him," Amy said, thinking of what River had said about the Doctor, "unless he decides he wants to be found."

There was a tense silence.

"Right," Rory said, sounding tense and worried but as always the nurse dedicated to his patients above all else, "well… since we can't really do anything about that, we'd better sort the Doctor out. Where's the medical room? Has it moved again?"

"The TARDIS is off-limits," River stated coldly.

"I don't think he's going to do that again," Rory protested weakly.

"He might," Amy answered. "I'd feel better knowing he was definitely nearby and not getting himself into anymore disasters."

The Doctor flinched again. "I'm sorry."

No one said anything, each trying to come to terms with the ramifications of what had happened. Amy felt like she should speak, that she should tell the Doctor that it wasn't his fault, that he hadn't been himself, that he hadn't been thinking straight, that he'd been tortured, that he couldn't even remember what had happened. But then she remembered that he had run away when they had tried to help, that his stubbornness had caused this, that he knew it, that he'd never believe any platitudes that she could give him, not when she was not sure if they were right, not now, not seconds after finding out that he'd let a raving lunatic free in the universe. And God only knew what said lunatic was doing, what he was planning, who he was killing. No matter how much she loved the Doctor, no matter how much she cared for him, how much she thought he didn't deserve their judgement after everything that had happened to him, the image of the Master remained in her mind's eye, and she couldn't quite shake herself of the feeling that the Doctor, however inadvertently, involuntarily, had caused this.

And she couldn't quite look the Time Lord in the eye. She felt awful. He needed their help, and the first thing she was doing was blaming him for something he didn't even remember doing?

Finally, Rory spoke. "The house it is, then. Can you walk?"

The Doctor tried and failed to push himself up. "No," he said shortly, clearly drowning in guilt and not caring either way whether he ever walked again.

"Ok," Rory said, slipping into professional mode, saving the situation from the poison of the Doctor's confession to having let the Master go. And Amy loved him for it. "Someone help me, we'll carry him."

Together, they managed to carry the Doctor inside and lay him on the spare bed that River had been using. By the time his head hit the pillow, the Doctor was unconscious. They all stood around his bedside, wondering what to do next.

"What happens now?" Amy asked River.

River shook her head. "The memories are still forming. I'll stay for as long as I can," she promised. "Someone has to make sure he doesn't run off and do something stupid."

"Do you think that'll work?" Amy wondered.

River sighed, her face suddenly worn, worried, the anger hidden behind the other emotions that were struggling to the fore. "I hope so."

Rory nodded. "It will. He knows he needs help now."

"There should be textbooks in the library on Time Lord physiology and psychology," River said, suddenly changing the subject, speaking to Rory but unable to tear her eyes away from the Doctor's face. "It would be a good idea to read them. I know a bit, but I'm not always here. And of course the Doctor knows, but he won't always be in a state to tell you what to do."

Rory nodded. "I was going to ask him about it earlier, but running for our lives always came up."

River jerked her head at the door to indicate that they were going now, and reluctantly turned away from the figure in the bed to meet Amy's eyes. Understanding the unasked question, Amy nodded and sat in the chair that they had put by the bed.

For what she was sure to be the first time of many, Amy sat vigil by the Doctor's bedside and watched him sleep, wondering what was going through his mind. As the door shut behind Rory and River, she looked outside to the TARDIS, and silently thanked it for bringing the Doctor back to them.

As if the TARDIS had heard, the blue light on top flashed twice.

The End

Author's Note:

Firstly, I would like to apologise for making you wait so long for this story to be finished. I was supposed to update it much more regularly than this, but real life got in the way – uni work among other things. And since exams are coming up soon and this was the lull in the storm, so to speak, I decided to (finally) finish it. So thank you to anyone who has read this far despite the lack of updates. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

As always, don't hesitate to let me know what you think.