Fight or Flight ( Doctor Who Fanfiction )

Night

The halls of TARDIS were silent in a way I'd never heard it before. There was an emptiness hanging in the air that was so palpable that it slowed down your heart and turned blood into molasses. No longer was this spaceship a home, or even a technological marvel. The rooms were cavernous. The halls were a labyrinth pressing in on all sides.

As soon as Amy disappeared, the TARDIS became alien in a way it had never been before.

Up to now, it was easy to stay outside. When are we going to recruit more people? Who's next? What is the plan? I swarmed the Doctor with questions and distracted him into scheming and arguing over Amelia's rescue.

The Doctor and Rory were just as urgent I was, at first, but there was only so much the human body could take. They finally pulled me to a halt: we had to sleep, they said.

They had to sleep. I had to keep moving.

So I wove some cheap lie about needing to sleep somewhere familiar, and convinced the Doctor to land somewhere in Leadworth.

I packed a small bag and walked out of the control room, feeling like I was finally escaping a high security prison, and stepped onto the pitch black main street, where there were barely half a dozen streetlights installed in the last century.

I walked to the little abandoned gym off the edge of town, heels hitting down hard on the pavement and sending shooting pains up my legs. I huffed for air, and knew if there were light, it was cold enough for my breath to fog. But all I could think, was move.

Move. Move. MOVE.

I picked up my pace and practically ran on the little track around to the back of the little building, cut across the overgrown grass, and crouched by the little windowless door. The lock was easy. It always had been easy. The alarm on the back door to the gym was still broken.

Nothing ever changed here.

Except Amy isn't here anymore.

The mirrors along one wall were just a conglomerate of shadows. There was barely any light to reflect in this place. Thankfully, I knew my way by heart. Three steps this way, four steps that way, two straight forward, reach my hands out -

The old leather punching bag felt like home sliding under my palms. I'd kept this little place in acceptable shape after it closed down, since no developer ever swooped in to build something new.

It was a place to practice. I'd never seen it in the light, really. I'd sneak out at night and spend hours with this punching bag, with the weights, with the old pair of boxing gloves in the corner. Now I knew my father had known my whereabouts, but at the time I felt like it was the only thing I could keep to myself.

It kept me sane.

I hung my head and breathed for the first time since Amy vanished.

This lasted for only a second. I knew why I was here.

No gloves today. I pulled my tape out of my bag, and paced back and forth while I wrapped my hands up to my knuckles. My teeth tore the tape better than scissors.

I dropped the tape when my hands were done, and without another thought, I flew at the punching bag.

My punches were direct and methodical. The dark silhouette of the bag swinging slightly under the assault was all there was light to decipher.

The air whistled past my fingers with every throw. My breath picked up. I became light on my toes, and soon it was a dance. Just me and my old friend.

Move. Move. Move.