FIC: Aimless (5/?)
Category: Fanfiction
Title: Aimless (5/?)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Rory/Eleven, Amy, OMC
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slash, blatant abuse of science, AU
Spoilers: Possible mentions of all early Series 5 episodes
Word Count: 3,025
Chapter Summary: Rory gets in trouble. In more than one way.
A/N: Not much to say... After this, posts might become much less frequent, as I'm beginning to catch up to what I've written. I hope to have another chapter up sometime this week, though. Hope you enjoy! :)
Chapter 4
He’s startled out of his sleep by the angriest shout he’s ever heard come from his father’s voice. “Rory Thomas Williams!”
Rory jumps, and his eyes fly open to see his father storming towards him from the direction of the house. “Dad!” he exclaims in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s one o’ clock in the morning!” Dad rages. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in? I walk in the house, the floor is covered in food. Bits of chewed up apple, yogurt, there’s popcorn all over the living room floor! Not to mention the fact that there’s a broken plate sitting in the yard, the freezer’s hanging open, the ice cream’s half melted, there are fish fingers lying in a bowl of custard, and-” He cuts off suddenly, staring at something, his mouth gaping. Rory whips his head around to take in the destroyed shed.
And the distinct lack of a big blue box.
“Where is it?” Rory asks before he can stop himself, utterly confused.
“That’s what I would like to know.” Dad’s voice is dangerously quiet now. “Rory. You had better tell me what happened to the shed right now, or so help me God, you will never see the outside of this house again.”
“You’ll never believe it,” Rory warns his father.
Laughing darkly, Dad says, “Oh, somehow I don’t doubt that at all. Explain. Now.”
Rory takes a deep breath. Best to just get it over with, he supposes. “I was watching TV in the living room and I heard a crash so I came outside and there was a man in a blue box and the box crashed into the shed and the man asked for an apple so I gave him an apple but he didn’t like it so we tried yogurt and then bacon and then beans and then bread and butter but he decided that he wanted fish fingers and custard instead and then I told him about the crack in my wall so he came upstairs to try and fix it and he had a screwdriver and it was sonic and the crack opened up and there was this giant eye and it put a message on the Doctor-that was his name-it put a message on the Doctor’s psychic paper and it said ‘Prisoner Zero has escaped’ and so he was trying to figure out who Prisoner Zero was and where they went and then the box started making this noise and he said that the engines were phasing and he had to fix it or else it would explode and he-” Here, Rory falters. “And he said he would be back in five minutes but he wasn’t.”
This last part is a mumble, and as he slowly climbs to his feet he looks over at the shed, feeling the most intense feeling of loss and disappointment he’s felt in a long time.
When he looks back to his father, Dad has the most incredulous look on his face that Rory’s ever seen. Rory’s heart sinks even further. He doesn’t believe him. That’s the same face he had when Rory told him about the voices coming from the crack.
“Just...” Dad swipes a hand over his face. “Just go to bed, Rory. I can’t...” He needs the skin on his forehead with the fingers of one hand. “I can’t do this right now.”
Rory stares at him uncertainly for a moment or two, until he looks up and snaps, “Go, Rory!” and he skittishly hurries up to the house. As he passes his father, Dad whispers, low so that Rory can barely hear him, “What am I doing wrong?”
There’s a jolting feeling in Rory’s stomach, and then some invisible force grabs him round the collar and drags him forward into darkness.
---
“Rory,” Dad says with a small, forced smile, “this is Doctor Adams. He’s here to talk to you about... about the shed thing.”
Doctor. Talk. Oh great, he’s a shrink. Rory stares at the man apprehensively. He’s short, balding, wearing an argyle sweater that looks old enough to be in a museum, forcing a smile that seems far too happy for the situation. Rory’s already decided he doesn’t like him.
“I don’t wanna talk to him,” he whines, turning his gaze back to his father.
“Rory, he’s here to help,” Dad pleads. “Just talk to him. Just for a little.”
Rory glances over at the doctor (momentarily resents him for not being the Doctor), and then sighs. “Fine,” he mumbles. Dr. Adams steps into the room with that stupid smile on his face and glances over at Dad.
“I’ll just be downstairs,” Dad says awkwardly, and shuffles away.
Dr. Adams watches him go and then turns to Rory and sits down on the bed. “Can I see what you’re reading?” he requests politely. He has a voice like sandpaper, rough and low, but kind, too. Silently, Rory passes him his book and Dr. Adams hefts the volume in his hands. He glances at Rory over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. “Bit of a big book for someone so young, don’t you think?”
Rory defiantly crosses his arms over his chest. “I can read whatever I want,” he grumbles. “Mum told me so.”
“I’m sure she did,” Dr. Adams murmurs. He flips through the pages, and Rory fights to keep a glare off his face; now he’s lost his place. “The Chronicles of Narnia,” he reads, flipping back to the cover. He gives Rory a searching look. “Do you think the wardrobe is real, Rory?”
Rory hates the way he talks to him, like he’s stupid just because he’s only a kid. “I don’t see why it can’t be. Just ‘cause it’s a story doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
“It’s only a story, though, Rory.” Dr. Adams sets the book down on the bed. “That means it’s not real.”
“Lots of stories are real.” Rory turns his attention to a loose stitch in the comforter. He plays with it with his finger.
“What about this story about... what’s his name?”
“The Doctor.” Somehow, Rory thinks that he already knew that.
Dr. Adams seems to consider him for a moment. “Was the story about him true?”
“Yes!” Rory snaps, because he knew this was where this was going. “It was true! He was there! Just because no one else saw it doesn’t mean I made it up. It’s real.”
Dr. Adams sighs. “I don’t think it is, though, Rory.” He reaches out and puts a hand on Rory’s shoulder. “Your father is very concerned about you, Rory. First there was the crack in your wall, and now the shed. Your father thinks, and I’m inclined to agree with him, that it was you who did those things.”
Rory violently shrugs the doctor’s hand off his shoulder and glares openly at him. “You don’t know anything,” he snaps. “You’re not even a real doctor. Real doctors come when there’s something wrong, and there’s nothing wrong with me!” He stands up abruptly and storms out of his room and down the stairs. He finds Dad sitting on the couch, watching telly, and he rushes over to the couch and wraps his arms around his surprised father’s middle. “Make him go away,” he mumbles into Dad’s stomach.
He hears footsteps behind him and then Dr. Adam’s voice, panting and tired from running down the stairs. “Mr. Williams, I-”
Dad rests a hand on Rory’s head. “I think you should go,” he says coolly. His voice rumbles through his stomach, and Rory feels it where his face is pressed against his father’s shirt. Rory turns his head slightly to peek out at Dr. Adams.
The doctor pushes his glasses up his nose and sniffs contemptuously. “Mr. Williams, the actions of your son are a clear cry for attention, probably something to do with the lack of a strong parental role in his life-”
“Get out,” Dad snaps abruptly. “And don’t you dare tell me how to parent my son.”
Dr. Adams mutters something under his breath, and then turns and walks out of the house. Rory feels something grab him and pull him forward into a cool pool of water, and then he knows no more.
---
He opens his eyes to the gray room. He feels absolutely exhausted, like he’s just been running from a bunch of murderous aliens on a strange planet. He’s lying on his side, and he pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, wishing he could just fall asleep, but his mind is racing, filled with too many thoughts to let him slip into sleep.
There’s a knock on the door.
Suddenly, Rory’s wide awake. His eyes fly open and he pushes himself up on one elbow. He stares at the door, his heart hammering in his throat. He feels so helpless, just lying there on the floor of the gray room, with no way to defend himself from the menace on the other side of the flimsy wooden door.
“Rory!”
A jolt runs through Rory’s body, because he knows that voice. He’d know it anywhere. He’s been hearing that voice since the day he was born. That’s his father’s voice.
It’s a trick, whispers a voice in Rory’s mind that sounds suspiciously like the Doctor. It’s using a disguise to try and trick its way in. Don’t trust it.
Rory takes a deep breath to bring a bit of calm and reminds himself that as long as he doesn’t open the door, he’ll be fine. The virus won’t be able to get in. He just needs to stay where he is and wait for it to go. Then he’ll let himself sleep until the Doctor gets back and they’ll get through this.
“Rory, please, open up!” There’s desperation in the voice that is (isn’t) his father’s. “Please, Rory, help!”
He tries to block it out. He and his father have never been very close (they had that awful row when Rory wanted to keep the house after Dad moved out, and they haven’t spoken since), but it doesn’t make it any easier to listen to. He tries to take deep breaths and just ignore it.
“Rory,” his not-father sobs. “Please, I need your help. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just let me in, I need you.”
There’s something horribly painful about listening to one’s parent cry. For most children, parents are firm, solid rocks. They’re laughter and hugs and checking the closet for monsters. They’re confidants and advisers and best friends. For most children, they aren’t sadness or fear. They’re the ones who chase the sadness and fear away, and for most children, when a parent cries, it’s a jolting, terrifying experience. It doesn’t matter whether the child is three or twenty-three. Hearing sobs punctuate a parent’s sentences will put a jolt of fear in any child’s heart. Rory is no exception.
The sound of not-Dad’s voice has disappeared, replaced completely with sobs and moans of fear and pain. Rory can feel his own throat tightening, tears pricking behind his closed lids.
He’s almost grateful when he feels something grab him around the neck and throw him headfirst into another memory.
---
The thing about small towns is that people talk. Dad tells somebody at work about Dr. Adams and the shed and the Doctor, and that somebody tells somebody else, and that somebody else tells two somebody else’s, and they tell two people, and they all tell two people, and before the week is out, every child will have sat down to dinner to hear their mother or father or both talk about poor Mr. Williams and his destructive son Rory.
The kids at school think it’s funny. Rory’s short for his age (though Dad promises he’ll spring up once he hits puberty, whatever that is), so he’s always been a target, but now things are even worse. Adam Riley pushes him around when he’s walking home one day and cackles as he asks where Rory’s Doctor is, and why he hasn’t come to save him yet.
Rory knows the Doctor is real. The memory of that night is as vivid as ever, perhaps even more so, and Rory clings to the hope that the Doctor will show up. Any day now, he promises himself as he sits on a swing at recess one day.
Today is one of the good days. There’s a new girl at school. Her name is Amelia Pond and she has red hair and she’s Scottish, and her momentary fame is enough to steal the attention away from Rory, which he’s perfectly happy with. His only regret is that she looks interesting, and he’d like to talk to her, but Renee Lister roped her into a game of four-square with Jeremy Jefferson and Danielle Watson.
So he sits on the swings and revels in the aloneness and the flight, forward and back. He closes his eyes and listens to the far-off sounds of kids squealing and screeching. He’s so involved in the sensation of swinging that he nearly falls off when a voice interrupts his thoughts.
“Hello, there,” says a slightly Scottish voice. Once Rory’s steadied himself, he opens his eyes to find red-headed Amelia Pond standing in front of him. He slams his feet to the ground to avoid hitting her, skidding slightly.
“Are you mad?” he breathes, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. “I could’ve hit you!”
“But you didn’t,” Amelia Pond points out. She holds out a hand. “I’m Amelia Pond.”
Tentatively, Rory reaches out his own hand and shakes hers. “I’m-” he starts, but she cuts him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“I already know who you are,” she informs him. “Renee and Jeremy and Danielle told me your name’s Rory.”
Oh. So that’s where this is going. Rory glares at her. “Tell Renee and Jeremy and Danielle that if they wanna make fun of the weird kid, they can do it themselves instead of sending the new girl to do it.”
Amelia Pond tips her head to the side slightly. “I’m not here to make fun of you,” she says like he’s said something extremely strange. “I thought you looked lonely. Renee says you don’t have any friends.”
“Who needs friends?” Rory mumbles. She doesn’t seem to hear. He glances up at her, and then stares determinedly down at his trainers. “I suppose they told you that I’m crazy, then?”
“Is it true?” Amelia Pond asks.
“No!” Rory snaps, looking up fiercely. “I’m not crazy! He’s real, and the box was real, and all of it was real! Just because some stupid grown-ups tell me it’s not real doesn’t mean it’s not.”
“I know that,” Amelia Pond sniffs. “Grown-ups are funny. They read you bedtime stories about fairies and princesses and magic, and then they tell you that none of it’s real.”
It’s one of the most brilliant things Rory’s ever heard anyone say, and he looks at her in a new light.
“I believe you,” she tells him. “How could a kid blow up a shed, anyway? It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Rory had known he wanted people to believe him, but he hadn’t expected the absolute rush of gratefulness and relief when someone finally did. “Thanks,” he mumbles, because he doesn’t really know what else to say.
Amelia Pond stares at him for a moment, and then says, “I didn’t have many friends back in Scotland, but I did have a best friend named Molly. Molly’s not here, though, obviously, so I have to find a new best friend.” She eyes him critically. “Wanna be my best friend?”
Rory blinks slowly. “I, uh... Sure.”
“Good,” says Amelia Pond, and after that, she’s just Amelia.
The other kids glare when Amelia and Rory walk into class together after recess, but no one says anything. Amelia demands that Rory share his snack with her, and she sits down next to him during story time, and when they’re supposed to be coloring, she leaves her table halfway across the room to ask Rory if he’d like to come over to her house after school. The teacher tells her to go sit down, and she does, but Rory nods at her across the room when she catches his eye a few minutes later.
School ends. Rory collects his things, shoves them in his backpack, and feels his heart pounding in his chest. It’s not like he’s never been to a friend’s house before, it’s just that something about Amelia Pond is different and strange and new. She’s not Jeremy Jefferson, who lives with his mum and dad and his two older brothers and who let Rory play fetch with his dog the one time he invited him over (that was a while ago, obviously). When they get to her house, he finds out that she’s Amelia Pond, who lives with her aunt and doesn’t have a mum or dad or siblings, and who has way too many stuffed animals and hates dogs and builds a fort out of sheets with him in her bedroom.
Amelia’s aunt calls Rory’s dad at work to let him know where Rory is, and at six o’ clock, Dad pulls up in the driveway and takes Rory home. He seems happier than usual as he asks Rory about Amelia. He asks what she’s like, if she’s nice, if she seems upset that she doesn’t have a mum or dad, if she likes being an only child. Rory doesn’t tell him that she believes him about the Doctor and the blue box. He has a feeling that would only make him angry.
Dad heats up leftover pizza in the microwave for dinner and lets him eat on the couch while they watch telly. He stays up till nine and reads a whole chapter of The Chronicles of Narnia before he falls asleep.
It’s the best day of his life, he thinks as his hold on the book slips and his eyes drift shut.
Chapter 5
Title: Aimless (5/?)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Rory/Eleven, Amy, OMC
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slash, blatant abuse of science, AU
Spoilers: Possible mentions of all early Series 5 episodes
Word Count: 3,025
Chapter Summary: Rory gets in trouble. In more than one way.
A/N: Not much to say... After this, posts might become much less frequent, as I'm beginning to catch up to what I've written. I hope to have another chapter up sometime this week, though. Hope you enjoy! :)
Chapter 4
He’s startled out of his sleep by the angriest shout he’s ever heard come from his father’s voice. “Rory Thomas Williams!”
Rory jumps, and his eyes fly open to see his father storming towards him from the direction of the house. “Dad!” he exclaims in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s one o’ clock in the morning!” Dad rages. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in? I walk in the house, the floor is covered in food. Bits of chewed up apple, yogurt, there’s popcorn all over the living room floor! Not to mention the fact that there’s a broken plate sitting in the yard, the freezer’s hanging open, the ice cream’s half melted, there are fish fingers lying in a bowl of custard, and-” He cuts off suddenly, staring at something, his mouth gaping. Rory whips his head around to take in the destroyed shed.
And the distinct lack of a big blue box.
“Where is it?” Rory asks before he can stop himself, utterly confused.
“That’s what I would like to know.” Dad’s voice is dangerously quiet now. “Rory. You had better tell me what happened to the shed right now, or so help me God, you will never see the outside of this house again.”
“You’ll never believe it,” Rory warns his father.
Laughing darkly, Dad says, “Oh, somehow I don’t doubt that at all. Explain. Now.”
Rory takes a deep breath. Best to just get it over with, he supposes. “I was watching TV in the living room and I heard a crash so I came outside and there was a man in a blue box and the box crashed into the shed and the man asked for an apple so I gave him an apple but he didn’t like it so we tried yogurt and then bacon and then beans and then bread and butter but he decided that he wanted fish fingers and custard instead and then I told him about the crack in my wall so he came upstairs to try and fix it and he had a screwdriver and it was sonic and the crack opened up and there was this giant eye and it put a message on the Doctor-that was his name-it put a message on the Doctor’s psychic paper and it said ‘Prisoner Zero has escaped’ and so he was trying to figure out who Prisoner Zero was and where they went and then the box started making this noise and he said that the engines were phasing and he had to fix it or else it would explode and he-” Here, Rory falters. “And he said he would be back in five minutes but he wasn’t.”
This last part is a mumble, and as he slowly climbs to his feet he looks over at the shed, feeling the most intense feeling of loss and disappointment he’s felt in a long time.
When he looks back to his father, Dad has the most incredulous look on his face that Rory’s ever seen. Rory’s heart sinks even further. He doesn’t believe him. That’s the same face he had when Rory told him about the voices coming from the crack.
“Just...” Dad swipes a hand over his face. “Just go to bed, Rory. I can’t...” He needs the skin on his forehead with the fingers of one hand. “I can’t do this right now.”
Rory stares at him uncertainly for a moment or two, until he looks up and snaps, “Go, Rory!” and he skittishly hurries up to the house. As he passes his father, Dad whispers, low so that Rory can barely hear him, “What am I doing wrong?”
There’s a jolting feeling in Rory’s stomach, and then some invisible force grabs him round the collar and drags him forward into darkness.
---
“Rory,” Dad says with a small, forced smile, “this is Doctor Adams. He’s here to talk to you about... about the shed thing.”
Doctor. Talk. Oh great, he’s a shrink. Rory stares at the man apprehensively. He’s short, balding, wearing an argyle sweater that looks old enough to be in a museum, forcing a smile that seems far too happy for the situation. Rory’s already decided he doesn’t like him.
“I don’t wanna talk to him,” he whines, turning his gaze back to his father.
“Rory, he’s here to help,” Dad pleads. “Just talk to him. Just for a little.”
Rory glances over at the doctor (momentarily resents him for not being the Doctor), and then sighs. “Fine,” he mumbles. Dr. Adams steps into the room with that stupid smile on his face and glances over at Dad.
“I’ll just be downstairs,” Dad says awkwardly, and shuffles away.
Dr. Adams watches him go and then turns to Rory and sits down on the bed. “Can I see what you’re reading?” he requests politely. He has a voice like sandpaper, rough and low, but kind, too. Silently, Rory passes him his book and Dr. Adams hefts the volume in his hands. He glances at Rory over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. “Bit of a big book for someone so young, don’t you think?”
Rory defiantly crosses his arms over his chest. “I can read whatever I want,” he grumbles. “Mum told me so.”
“I’m sure she did,” Dr. Adams murmurs. He flips through the pages, and Rory fights to keep a glare off his face; now he’s lost his place. “The Chronicles of Narnia,” he reads, flipping back to the cover. He gives Rory a searching look. “Do you think the wardrobe is real, Rory?”
Rory hates the way he talks to him, like he’s stupid just because he’s only a kid. “I don’t see why it can’t be. Just ‘cause it’s a story doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
“It’s only a story, though, Rory.” Dr. Adams sets the book down on the bed. “That means it’s not real.”
“Lots of stories are real.” Rory turns his attention to a loose stitch in the comforter. He plays with it with his finger.
“What about this story about... what’s his name?”
“The Doctor.” Somehow, Rory thinks that he already knew that.
Dr. Adams seems to consider him for a moment. “Was the story about him true?”
“Yes!” Rory snaps, because he knew this was where this was going. “It was true! He was there! Just because no one else saw it doesn’t mean I made it up. It’s real.”
Dr. Adams sighs. “I don’t think it is, though, Rory.” He reaches out and puts a hand on Rory’s shoulder. “Your father is very concerned about you, Rory. First there was the crack in your wall, and now the shed. Your father thinks, and I’m inclined to agree with him, that it was you who did those things.”
Rory violently shrugs the doctor’s hand off his shoulder and glares openly at him. “You don’t know anything,” he snaps. “You’re not even a real doctor. Real doctors come when there’s something wrong, and there’s nothing wrong with me!” He stands up abruptly and storms out of his room and down the stairs. He finds Dad sitting on the couch, watching telly, and he rushes over to the couch and wraps his arms around his surprised father’s middle. “Make him go away,” he mumbles into Dad’s stomach.
He hears footsteps behind him and then Dr. Adam’s voice, panting and tired from running down the stairs. “Mr. Williams, I-”
Dad rests a hand on Rory’s head. “I think you should go,” he says coolly. His voice rumbles through his stomach, and Rory feels it where his face is pressed against his father’s shirt. Rory turns his head slightly to peek out at Dr. Adams.
The doctor pushes his glasses up his nose and sniffs contemptuously. “Mr. Williams, the actions of your son are a clear cry for attention, probably something to do with the lack of a strong parental role in his life-”
“Get out,” Dad snaps abruptly. “And don’t you dare tell me how to parent my son.”
Dr. Adams mutters something under his breath, and then turns and walks out of the house. Rory feels something grab him and pull him forward into a cool pool of water, and then he knows no more.
---
He opens his eyes to the gray room. He feels absolutely exhausted, like he’s just been running from a bunch of murderous aliens on a strange planet. He’s lying on his side, and he pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, wishing he could just fall asleep, but his mind is racing, filled with too many thoughts to let him slip into sleep.
There’s a knock on the door.
Suddenly, Rory’s wide awake. His eyes fly open and he pushes himself up on one elbow. He stares at the door, his heart hammering in his throat. He feels so helpless, just lying there on the floor of the gray room, with no way to defend himself from the menace on the other side of the flimsy wooden door.
“Rory!”
A jolt runs through Rory’s body, because he knows that voice. He’d know it anywhere. He’s been hearing that voice since the day he was born. That’s his father’s voice.
It’s a trick, whispers a voice in Rory’s mind that sounds suspiciously like the Doctor. It’s using a disguise to try and trick its way in. Don’t trust it.
Rory takes a deep breath to bring a bit of calm and reminds himself that as long as he doesn’t open the door, he’ll be fine. The virus won’t be able to get in. He just needs to stay where he is and wait for it to go. Then he’ll let himself sleep until the Doctor gets back and they’ll get through this.
“Rory, please, open up!” There’s desperation in the voice that is (isn’t) his father’s. “Please, Rory, help!”
He tries to block it out. He and his father have never been very close (they had that awful row when Rory wanted to keep the house after Dad moved out, and they haven’t spoken since), but it doesn’t make it any easier to listen to. He tries to take deep breaths and just ignore it.
“Rory,” his not-father sobs. “Please, I need your help. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just let me in, I need you.”
There’s something horribly painful about listening to one’s parent cry. For most children, parents are firm, solid rocks. They’re laughter and hugs and checking the closet for monsters. They’re confidants and advisers and best friends. For most children, they aren’t sadness or fear. They’re the ones who chase the sadness and fear away, and for most children, when a parent cries, it’s a jolting, terrifying experience. It doesn’t matter whether the child is three or twenty-three. Hearing sobs punctuate a parent’s sentences will put a jolt of fear in any child’s heart. Rory is no exception.
The sound of not-Dad’s voice has disappeared, replaced completely with sobs and moans of fear and pain. Rory can feel his own throat tightening, tears pricking behind his closed lids.
He’s almost grateful when he feels something grab him around the neck and throw him headfirst into another memory.
---
The thing about small towns is that people talk. Dad tells somebody at work about Dr. Adams and the shed and the Doctor, and that somebody tells somebody else, and that somebody else tells two somebody else’s, and they tell two people, and they all tell two people, and before the week is out, every child will have sat down to dinner to hear their mother or father or both talk about poor Mr. Williams and his destructive son Rory.
The kids at school think it’s funny. Rory’s short for his age (though Dad promises he’ll spring up once he hits puberty, whatever that is), so he’s always been a target, but now things are even worse. Adam Riley pushes him around when he’s walking home one day and cackles as he asks where Rory’s Doctor is, and why he hasn’t come to save him yet.
Rory knows the Doctor is real. The memory of that night is as vivid as ever, perhaps even more so, and Rory clings to the hope that the Doctor will show up. Any day now, he promises himself as he sits on a swing at recess one day.
Today is one of the good days. There’s a new girl at school. Her name is Amelia Pond and she has red hair and she’s Scottish, and her momentary fame is enough to steal the attention away from Rory, which he’s perfectly happy with. His only regret is that she looks interesting, and he’d like to talk to her, but Renee Lister roped her into a game of four-square with Jeremy Jefferson and Danielle Watson.
So he sits on the swings and revels in the aloneness and the flight, forward and back. He closes his eyes and listens to the far-off sounds of kids squealing and screeching. He’s so involved in the sensation of swinging that he nearly falls off when a voice interrupts his thoughts.
“Hello, there,” says a slightly Scottish voice. Once Rory’s steadied himself, he opens his eyes to find red-headed Amelia Pond standing in front of him. He slams his feet to the ground to avoid hitting her, skidding slightly.
“Are you mad?” he breathes, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. “I could’ve hit you!”
“But you didn’t,” Amelia Pond points out. She holds out a hand. “I’m Amelia Pond.”
Tentatively, Rory reaches out his own hand and shakes hers. “I’m-” he starts, but she cuts him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“I already know who you are,” she informs him. “Renee and Jeremy and Danielle told me your name’s Rory.”
Oh. So that’s where this is going. Rory glares at her. “Tell Renee and Jeremy and Danielle that if they wanna make fun of the weird kid, they can do it themselves instead of sending the new girl to do it.”
Amelia Pond tips her head to the side slightly. “I’m not here to make fun of you,” she says like he’s said something extremely strange. “I thought you looked lonely. Renee says you don’t have any friends.”
“Who needs friends?” Rory mumbles. She doesn’t seem to hear. He glances up at her, and then stares determinedly down at his trainers. “I suppose they told you that I’m crazy, then?”
“Is it true?” Amelia Pond asks.
“No!” Rory snaps, looking up fiercely. “I’m not crazy! He’s real, and the box was real, and all of it was real! Just because some stupid grown-ups tell me it’s not real doesn’t mean it’s not.”
“I know that,” Amelia Pond sniffs. “Grown-ups are funny. They read you bedtime stories about fairies and princesses and magic, and then they tell you that none of it’s real.”
It’s one of the most brilliant things Rory’s ever heard anyone say, and he looks at her in a new light.
“I believe you,” she tells him. “How could a kid blow up a shed, anyway? It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Rory had known he wanted people to believe him, but he hadn’t expected the absolute rush of gratefulness and relief when someone finally did. “Thanks,” he mumbles, because he doesn’t really know what else to say.
Amelia Pond stares at him for a moment, and then says, “I didn’t have many friends back in Scotland, but I did have a best friend named Molly. Molly’s not here, though, obviously, so I have to find a new best friend.” She eyes him critically. “Wanna be my best friend?”
Rory blinks slowly. “I, uh... Sure.”
“Good,” says Amelia Pond, and after that, she’s just Amelia.
The other kids glare when Amelia and Rory walk into class together after recess, but no one says anything. Amelia demands that Rory share his snack with her, and she sits down next to him during story time, and when they’re supposed to be coloring, she leaves her table halfway across the room to ask Rory if he’d like to come over to her house after school. The teacher tells her to go sit down, and she does, but Rory nods at her across the room when she catches his eye a few minutes later.
School ends. Rory collects his things, shoves them in his backpack, and feels his heart pounding in his chest. It’s not like he’s never been to a friend’s house before, it’s just that something about Amelia Pond is different and strange and new. She’s not Jeremy Jefferson, who lives with his mum and dad and his two older brothers and who let Rory play fetch with his dog the one time he invited him over (that was a while ago, obviously). When they get to her house, he finds out that she’s Amelia Pond, who lives with her aunt and doesn’t have a mum or dad or siblings, and who has way too many stuffed animals and hates dogs and builds a fort out of sheets with him in her bedroom.
Amelia’s aunt calls Rory’s dad at work to let him know where Rory is, and at six o’ clock, Dad pulls up in the driveway and takes Rory home. He seems happier than usual as he asks Rory about Amelia. He asks what she’s like, if she’s nice, if she seems upset that she doesn’t have a mum or dad, if she likes being an only child. Rory doesn’t tell him that she believes him about the Doctor and the blue box. He has a feeling that would only make him angry.
Dad heats up leftover pizza in the microwave for dinner and lets him eat on the couch while they watch telly. He stays up till nine and reads a whole chapter of The Chronicles of Narnia before he falls asleep.
It’s the best day of his life, he thinks as his hold on the book slips and his eyes drift shut.
Chapter 5