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There’s a room in the TARDIS that is special to the Doctor, that only he can find. And every once and awhile the TARDIS reminds him that it is there and that he has been loved by so many and so much and none more than his companions. This room is not extraordinary, it doesn’t have flying motorbikes or isn’t filled to the brim with bananas (but there is a room like that a few door down and to the right past the helter-skelter) and most certainly doesn’t make loud random noises at all hours of the night, annoying the TARDIS’ occupants.
No, what this room holds is memories, tokens of love and loss, left behind by the Doctor’s companions. Donna’s hat boxes are piled up in a corner, as new as the day they first set foot on the TARDIS. Martha’s key hangs on a hook by the door, never used by another companion but her. Jack left his squareness gun that was found by River but abandoned once again when she was gone. K-9’s older shells sit in an orderly row against the wall, reminding the Doctor of his faithful dog. Then there is Rose’s jacket, forgotten in the TARDIS console room, but carried here lovingly by his last regeneration, and placed on the back of an old rocking chair. Which sits next to the Doctor’s basset that once rocked his children and grandchildren to sleep, last of which was Susan, his first companion. It cradled his wife too before she was stolen away.
There are old things of his as well in this room, of his past regenerations. A cricket bat and stick of celery, the recorder that he used to toot on when he was younger, his walking stick from his first regeneration, countless old models of sonic screwdrivers either outdated or broken. The umbrella from his sixth regeneration is propped up along a bed frame while his scarf from his fourth is woven neatly through the rungs.
But now there are new additions to add to this place of lost things. Rory’s Centurion armor and gladius have been placed on a mattress and Amy’s clothing have been laid lovingly next to it, her glasses resting on top of the pile. It is here he comes to mourn the loss of another companion, two this time. As he weeps freely amongst the forgotten and abandoned he sees them, Amelia’s glasses. He does not remember bringing them here. But to be honest he hasn’t seen them since he went dashing back to the TARDIS after reading the last page. He had thought them lost.
Rising he walks over to them, and picks them up, holding them reverently in his hands. “Thanks dear.” he whispers to the TARDIS and she hums her contentment, happy to see her mad man find joy in something again. She watches as he exits the room, pocketing the glasses as he goes.
They always leave him, his companions and this room continues to collect mementos. And that is why every once and a while she brings him here, to remember because he must, because without this he would never start on the path to healing.