Nap Time by LinworthNewt

Summary: "Naps are for the old, and I haven't been old since I was young."
Rating: All Ages
Categories: Eleventh Doctor
Characters: Amy Pond, The Doctor (11th)
Genres: General, Standalone, Vignette
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2010.06.25
Updated: 2010.06.25

Nap Time by LinworthNewt
Chapter 1: The Yawn
Author's Notes:

Amy did not even realize she was doing it, so focused was she on watching the Doctor's buoyant gambol around the TARDIS console, moving this, turning that, and then reversing it all, like he was unsure of what any of the controls actually did.

"Maybe we should go find a bed," the Doctor said, intending the statement for his companion, though his face was pressed to a row of blinky lights, trying to determine their function through osmosis.

Amy choked on her sharp intake of breath, coughing out a shocked, "Excuse me?"

"A bed. For sleeping with. On. In... Oh!" Now the Doctor's head shot up and he looked at the blushing Amy. "For you. A bed. For you, not me. That was a suggestion...for you. I have no part in it. The bed thing. It's just that you've been yawning for the last ten minutes. And I think you could use a nap. In a bed. For you. Without me."

Now the young woman crossed her arms and huffed, "I'm not tired."

The Time Lord was incredulous. "I took you away in the middle of the night so that we could go racing around Starship UK, and then straight into the War Rooms of London during the Blitz. I don't think you've slept in three or four days, Amy Pond, and no matter how special you may be, every human needs to sleep."

"But not you?"

"Not me."

"Not even a nap?"

"Naps are for the old, and I haven't been old since I was young."

"Is that suppose to make sense?" Amy asked.

"Only to a Time Lord," the Doctor answered.

There it was again, that sadness, that loneliness Amy had heard in his voice before.

She slipped an arm through his, and led him deeper into the TARDIS, though gently enough so as to let him think that it was he who was taking the lead. "So explain it to me, then."

"Well, it's quite simple, really," the Doctor went on, feeling around for the right words. "My body does grow older, and it grew to be quite old in my first life. But then, well, things kept happening...bad things... and though I've aged, I've never quite lived long enough to grow old again."

"Your 'first life'?" Amy echoed. "So, what, you die, and then you're reborn?"

The Doctor nodded, "Something like that, yes."

"Is that what happened when we first met, when I was a little girl?"

"Yep. I had a bit of a... bad thing."

"But then," Amy insisted, "by your own reasoning, you're only a few days old, and every child needs a nap!"

"Honestly, I'm far too old to ever be that young again - Oh, look, a kitchen! I've got a proper kitchen!" The Doctor stopped to poke his head into the room of the regenerated TARDIS that he had not seen before. "I wonder if it has a pantry with custard?"

"We could always stop off at a Tesco on the moon or something," Amy suggested casually.

"Their off-planet operations folded by the early 22nd century," the Doctor said, craning his head around the kitchen to take in all of the amenities, then popping back into the corridor. "Right, where were we going?"

"To see if this place has a B&B," Amy reminded him. Now that he had mentioned just how long she had been awake, Amy really was tired; in fact, her head was pounding with the exertion of keeping her awake, and she hoped they found some place to lay down in soon. "Or I'd settle for a pile of hay in barn if you've got one. Or a chair by the pool."

"I hate beds. I'm only ever in one after something bad, you know, one of those bad things I mentioned, has happened. So maybe there isn't one here because I would never use it. Not by choice, anyway." The Doctor suddenly smiled. "I've got the next best thing, though. How about a nice, comfy couch?"

"Anything," Amy agreed. A few more turns and they were in the library, a magnificent room of mahogany shelves, musty tomes, and Edwardian touches, a far cry from the shining garishness of the control room.

"Perfect!" the Doctor exclaimed, pulling a fine woolen quilt from the back of a wide leather couch that looked rather worn for being in some place supposedly so new. "I love couches. When you're in a bed, it feels like your duty to sleep there. Or you're stuck in one because you're sick. Or you've regenerated. - Well, not you. - But a couch? Just as comfortable, and it feels like you're on a holiday, because you get to sleep someplace other than bed with an alarm by it, or people around it. It's exciting. Like camping. But without the mosquitoes. And rocks. Rocks aren't comfortable."

Amy flopped ungracefully onto the wonderfully cool, yielding cushions, and the Doctor unfurled the blanket with a flourish and gently settled it over her. "What would you know about alarms and sleeping on couches if you don't sleep?"

The Doctor sighed. "There was a time; when I had to follow rules, to follow schedules, to sleep and stand and sit where I was told. And when I got away from it, I use to love napping in a chair, just because I could. But then I slept through the TARDIS landing once, and well, that wasn't good. But that was long ago. And I try to live by the principle of never lying down on the journey. Never know what you might miss."

"Does it hurt?" Amy asked, looking up at him with her bleary but inquisitive eyes that demanded answers, and made it clear that she would not sleep while she still had questions. "When you die?"

There was almost no need to answer aloud, because it was set in his careworn features. "Some times more than others. But it's not the physical pain as much as what I lose."

Amy was having difficulty keeping her eyes open. "What do you lose?"

"Everything," he whispered.

She yawned again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I can't. I don't remember. That's the point." The words came out harsher than he intended, so he added lightly, "But I get a new life, a new body for new adventures."

Amy squirmed her way deeper into the cushions, settling in. "If you bothered to sleep, maybe you would remember in your dreams."

The Doctor hesitated. "I don't dream, Amy. Not the way that you do. I can't." I don't want to.

But Amy did not ask for an explanation of this; her dreams were already running with the stars, racing them to escape the enveloping crack that was chasing them all.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

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