It was simple, elegant, covered in silver and glowing bright blue at the end. It wasn’t a weapon, and that was why he liked it. A strange thing to make sonic, it was an oddity. Like him, it was the only one of its kind. The Master’s laser screwdriver was the closest, but as he had so clearly pointed out to the Doctor, it most definitely was not sonic.
He found himself simply staring at it sometimes, at moments when he was alone and was forced to face his thoughts because there was no alien world to save, no damsel in distress, and no companions to entertain. The high-pitched ringing echoed through the new TARDIS, looking so very out of place against the new design.
The Doctor would slowly twirl it between his fingers, shoulders hunched forward as if to protect the precious thing. It was silly, really, considering the amount of danger he put it in on a daily basis. The memories in the old, worn thing were important, but when it came to the life of his lovely Amelia Pond, he would let it get destroyed if he needed to.
Still, that doesn’t stop him from putting himself at risk at inconvenient times, grabbing it right before it gets crushed or burned or lacerated. Amy told him he was a lot like Indiana Jones and his hat, and the Doctor could only blush in response, giving her a soft smile at her flattery.
He saw that she wanted to ask, he knew she was aching to know what was so important about the thing, but it wasn’t until she spotted him sitting on the console, eyebrows knit together as he stared at it inches from his face, did she approach him.
It was a quiet little thing, there were no feelings hurt, nor any words spoken. Amy walked up the steps and onto the clear platform, slowly making her way over to him. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she took careful steps, almost as though she thought he would snap at her. He knew she was there, sensed her from the second she walked in and saw her fiery locks out of the corner of his eye, but made no move to let her know of it.
She extended her arm, her fingers splayed apart as she hesitantly reached for it, finally meeting his eyes and asking the unspoken question. Her brown eyes were so big, so innocent, and so new to him… they had only just gotten off of the space-whale an hour or two before. He found himself attached to her already, despite her cocky personality, risky choices, and undoubted faith in him. But Amy was still a fresh face, one he knew he would slowly ruin, suck all of her innocence and happiness out of her until there was nothing left.
So he slowly shook his head, his brown hair falling onto his forehead slightly as he tucked the device into a pocket on the inside of his tweed jacket. He didn’t look at her, not wanting to see her face. He trusted her, but she just wasn’t ready yet.
When Rose took it, it was to repair barbed wire to help protect them all. He remembered that day, that fantastic day, the one rare occasion where everyone had lived. It was well worth it. Everything with Rose was worth it.
Martha, brave, brave Martha, used it to help protect him and several other innocent people. He didn’t remember her at the time, and he could never find the right words to thank her with afterwards. She was his soldier, his protector when he was sure he didn’t need one.
And Donna… well, in the end, Donna didn’t even really need the screwdriver. She knew exactly what it did, how it worked, how to make it… she was far cleverer than she ought to have been. The Doctor was almost proud to think that she was smarter than he, but it never mattered. Her memories are forgotten, locked away in the back of her head. The most important woman in the universe and she couldn’t even know it.
The Doctor jumped slightly when he felt cool, slender fingers touch his forehead, pushing his hair backwards. It reminded him of how it used to be in his previous regeneration. Amy peered up at him, not saying a word, but never really needing to. Despite her hard front, it wasn’t very hard to see how caring and emotional she really was. Concern was painted across her face.
Her fingers slid down his forehead to his cheek, stroking up into his hairline and then back again. He felt himself relax, and though the screwdriver felt heavy and freezing in his pocket, his own hand covered hers, and he couldn’t help but give her a small, sad smile.
She frowned further, taking her hand away from his cheek. At first the Doctor was confused, he wondered if he did something wrong- he always feared he would do something that would make his companions leave, more often than not it was it was him that did it- but he soon understood when she wrapped her arms gently around his waist, her cheek pressed up against his chest.
She was much smaller than he was, and certainly much younger, but he couldn’t help but release a long breath from his mouth. He encircled his arms around her, returning the hug. He loved hugs, but nothing could ever beat an Amy-hug. He let his chin press into her ginger hair, the smell of strawberries filling his nose. His eyes fluttered closed, and for those few moments, he let himself forget about the past and the terrible, awful things he’s done and just indulged.