Author's Note: I would like to thank domina tempore for inspiration for this story. I've been toying with the idea of having the Doctor go to a therapy session…and this is what turned out. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Doctor, nor will I ever own him. No matter how much I dream….
Soft music played in the background, infuriating music that almost caused the Doctor to go insane. And considering what it took to cause the Doctor to go insane, this was a very great achievement indeed. He had been sitting here for over a half an hour, listening to that annoying speaker play tawdry music over and over again, waiting for an appointment that was supposed to be twenty minutes ago, and it made him want to SCREAM!
But, of course, he didn't scream, because that would cause more people to look at him and pay attention to him, which was the opposite of what he wanted. It was bad enough that Amy made him come to a therapy session, but the fact that she bailed at the last second made it worse. Now he was forced to face the therapist that Amy had bit when she was younger alone, and talk about his feelings. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Suddenly the same song played again for the fiftieth time, and the Doctor had enough. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and, ignoring the consequences, sonicked the speaker. Within seconds it began to smoulder, and then ended up bursting up in a fit of sparks. Needless to say, there was no more music after that. He sighed with relief, yet the other people in the waiting room casted him strange looks.
Within minutes of destroying the source of music, the receptionist finally came in and announced the name "John Smith?" With that, the Doctor stood up slowly, still uncertain about his decision to come here.
"Yup, that's me," He said, as the poor receptionist saw the damage that his sonic screwdriver had done. By the look on her face, she looked like she was about to cry. "Oh, and I don't know what happened to that poor speaker. All of a sudden it sputtered up and died. What a pity." The Doctor had absolutely no sympathy for the speaker, or the receptionist for that matter. All he really wanted to do was get this appointment over with as quick and painless as possible. Though, considering this was therapy, that might not be possible.
"Anyway, will Miss…Miss Pond be with you today?" The way she said Amy's name echoed of fear, which made the Doctor wonder exactly what Amy did in therapy that was so horrible. The thought amused him that Amy, wonderful and spunky Amy, could instil such fear in someone.
"I'm sorry, but Amy could not make it today," He replied. "She was busy with other matters." She probably chickened out, that's what, he thought about saying, but decided not to. "You'll only have me to deal with today."
The fact that Amy would not be there today brought such relief to the receptionist, which made the Doctor almost burst out into laughter. "Very-very well. Ms. Valliani will see you now." With that she turned around to lead the Doctor to Ms. Valliani's office.
Before following her, the Doctor couldn't help but glance back at the place he left behind, as if he wasn't sure he would be coming back out alive. As he looked at the faces of those he left behind, he could almost be sure that they were giving him looks of pure pity.
The Doctor found himself a few minutes later in a position that he never thought he would find himself in; lying down on one of those therapist chairs. Yet he was, and he wasn't necessarily happy about his situation.
"Hullo, Mr. Smith," Ms. Valliani began in an alto voice, and somehow she made it sound like she was genuinely glad to see him, although he suspected that was not the case. "I just want to let you know, that anything and everything spoken here in this room is confidential. You can share anything with me, and I promise that I will not judge you. Remember, I am here to help you with your problems."
The Doctor wasn't listening to what the therapist had to say; his attention was entirely focused on her left hand, where there was a faded scar. A faded scar in the unmistakeable shape of a child's teeth, undoubtedly left by young Amy. It wasn't until after she had finished talking that he realized that he might want to pay attention. "Umm…right. Of course. So, what do you want me talk about?" He couldn't help but look at the clock, which read 3:32 and sigh. This was going to be a long hour.
"Well, Mr. Smith, most people who come into my office that are your age start talking about their sex life," Ms. Valliani said, as if it wasn't an uncomfortable subject to talk about. From the look on the Doctor's face, she continued hastily. "But you can start talking about your day. How was your day today?"
It took the Doctor a moment to think about what he was going to say before he said it, completely taken by surprise by the question. He was expecting Ms. Valliani to ask a question like 'Have you ever thought about killing yourself' or some stupid question like that. Not a question that was so…normal. "Well, so far my day has been OK. I've had great adventures with my friends, but to be honest with you…I'm not so thrilled to be here right now. No offence, I mean."
"None taken," Ms Valliani soothed, smiling a very disarming smile. "How does coming here make you feel? What about it makes you…uncomfortable?" She leaned forward and looked at him through her glasses in such a way that the Doctor had no choice but to answer her question.
"I don't know what about it I don't like," The Doctor began, standing up. Finally, something that he was good at; talking. "I just don't like talking about myself people—well, anyone really, much less strangers. It's like I'm worried that by telling people about myself I'm giving away a piece of myself…." He trailed off, at a loss for words to explain what he was feeling.
"I can tell that you're a self-contained man, Mr. Smith," She said, and started taking a few notes.
"Wait, wait, wait—" He said, stopping in his tracks. He was dismayed at the fact she was taking notes. "What are you doing? Why are you taking notes?"
Ms. Valliani looked back at the Doctor, calm as can be. "I'm just taking a few notes so I remember what we talk about, so I can bring some of it up at our next appointment."
"Hold on, I didn't say anything about another appointment—"
"Honestly, Mr. Smith, you didn't think that any changes would happen, with just one appointment, do you?" She replied, calm. So infuriatingly calm.
"No, that's it, I'm leaving," The Doctor said suddenly, starting for the door. He was fed up with all this talking about how he felt and how did that make you feel. Man, why did Amy hate him so much?
The therapist stood up and stood between him and the door. "You can't leave yet! Our appointment isn't over yet!"
"I don't give a damn about you and your stupid appointments," The Doctor growled. He just wanted to leave. "Man, why did Amy make me go to this place anyway?" He muttered to himself, thinking that the therapist couldn't hear him.
Unluckily for him, Ms. Valliani could hear him quite well. "Wait. Do you mean…." She paused for a second, then spoke the name quietly as if it would bring the devil. "…Amy, as in Amelia Pond?"
The Doctor smiled an evil smile, getting an idea. Ooh, this is going to be fun, he thought before saying "Yes, I do mean Amy Pond."
The poor therapist looked like she was going to faint. "Does she…does she still believe in the raggedy Doctor?"
"Oh yes, yes she does," He replied instantly, finally having fun. "I've known her since she was a little kid, when she met the raggedy Doctor."
"Umm…Mr. Smith…you DO realize that the raggedy Doctor doesn't exist…right?" Ms. Valliani said hesitantly, scared of the answer that she was going to receive.
"No, no, I'm afraid the raggedy Doctor does exist," The Doctor said. "And I see why she bit you in the first place, telling people what does and does not exist." As soon as that was said, the therapist recoiled back as if physically struck. Or, in her case, physically bitten. "And I would have you know that I'm the raggedy Doctor."
"But-but-but that's impossible!" Ms. Valliani protested, truly panicking now. "You can't be the raggedy Doctor, because he just. doesn't. exist!"
"Ah," The Doctor replied, "But you know that's not true. You know, deep inside of you that I do exist. And I don't appreciate you telling me otherwise.
Ms. Valliani looked truly shaken. "I'm-I'm sorry, Mr. Doctor, sir. I didn't mean to offend-I just thought-I didn't know that—!"
Before she finished her sentence, the Doctor walked out of the office and shut the door, laughing merrily.