6. Memory Sifter

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A/N: Here's my trying to get better with Amy. I'm sorry, I'm sure that she's still out of character. I'm trying, I swear! But there's a bit of fun at the end of the chapter. Yay! It's a bit shorter than I anticipated for the fun at the end, but I'm hoping the Amy-8 scene doesn't drag on too badly. :) Picture to the side is of Karen Gillan as Amy Pond.

Written 2014-04-25

      Amy sat in a kitchen chair in the main room with the television. She flicked through the channels trying to find something that was familiar. America really had nothing but advertising. How could they pay for this crap? Just a bunch of annoying announcers who told you lies about soem stupid product that would probably break during transport. 

     She sighed and turned off the television, leaning her chair so that it balanced on two legs and the wall behind her. She had just closed her eyes when the door swung open, smacking forcefully against the wall. Amy almost fell out of her chair. She grumbled a few unrepeatable words before swinging her chair back onto all four legs and standing to tell whoever it was to get the heck out. 

      Then her eyes met the blue-green eyes of the Victorian-style Doctor.

      "Hey, Doctor." she smiled, only half faking it. She was still a bit annoyed, having been about to get some sleep. That wouldn't be an option now and she knew it. 

     "Hello," he paused for a second, "Amelia, right?"

      "Amy." she corrected. Just like her Doctor to introduce her like that. That annoying raggedy alien man! That made no sense, but she didn't care. They were her thoughts and nobody knew what they were! At least... she didn't think so. 

      "What are you doing here?" Amy asked, placing her hands on her hips, "Shouldn't you be setting the TARDIS on fire or something?" 

     8 wasn't sure whether to laugh or be annoyed. Probably the latter. Yep. 8 chose to frown. 

     "I didn't see you helping!" he spat back. Fighting back? That wasn't like him. Or was it? So hard to tell with a new regeneration! 

     "You wouldn't have let me help anyways," she argued. 

      "How do you know? I'm not him, after all." There was an awkward pause where the Doctor realized what he had said. He didn't want to admit his mistake so the red-head did it for him. 

       "Yes you are. He's just an older you!" she crossed her arms now. 

      "Yes but..." he trailed off, then stompe his foot like a child and pouted like a playful child, "Oh, I don't know!" 

      Amy couldn't help but gigle a bit. He might not be HER Doctor, but he definitly was THE Doctor. The red-brown haired Doctor grabbed a chair from the kitchen and set it next to Amy's. 

     "So, what am I like? In the future, that is? I haven't got a good chance to get to know me." 8 asked conversationally. Conversationally? Was he used to this kind of thing? Probably.

      "Find out for yourself, mr cravat!" Amy told him, "Why not ask yourself?" 

     "He won't tell me anything." he paused for a second, then added, "Probably for a good reason... But I don't like being kept in the dark!" He said the last part like a whiney child. 

    "Good, then don't complain!" Amy said, her crossed arms crushing closer to her chest, almost as though she were trying to hug herself with her arms crossed. 

     "But... I--argh!" he was inturrupted by pain. A splitting pain that once again tore through his skull and his mind. Someone had lowered his shields by force and was sifting through his memories. Memory sifting was a painful enough process when you let someone do it willingly. Trying to block someone out--someone this powerful--was like trying to stop a train with the strength in your arms! 

      Through his tear-filled eyes, he could see a blurry Amy by his side. She looked unsure of what to do, if not a bit panicked. The Doctor shut his eyes tightly, trying to focus on banishing this person--this thing--from his mind. But first he wanted to know what they were looking for. He, however, didn't get that chance. 

     The person withdrew from his mind just as he started to narrow things down. A massive sigh left his lungs along with a groan. By a quick telepathic search, he could tell that the person hadn't been far away when they had entered his mind. In the San Francisco area, at least, probably closer. In this part of the city. But who was it? And why? He couldn't tell, but he knew that someone would have some serious explaining to do when he found them. 

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