Fic: We're All A Little Mad Here (5/?)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Beta: themuslimbarbie
Part Four
A/N: This chapter has been horrible to write. RL has been a pain in the arse, Musie has fucked off for a holiday and just POND FEELS EVERYWHERE.I'm not 100% happy with it, but after a week of edits and a fantastic beta job (many thanks m'dear) it's not going to get any better. So, sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy it. As always, I don't own Doctor Who, and please comment.
In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on. - Robert Frost
I feel so small, she thinks. Small and sad. Everything about this place is just wrong. It's all sterile and white and -
How does that make you feel, Amy?
Everyday since I got here has been exactly the same:
Step 1: Wake up and wonder where I am.
Step 2: Remember.
Step 3: Hope today will be the day He comes bursting in to rescue me.
Step 4: Realise He isn’t coming. That He can’t come.
Rinse and repeat.
Her days are spent lounging in her room until lunchtime, when she is forced to go to the cafeteria. She tries to avoid all contact with other people (patients, she corrects herself), eating her sandwich and yogurt, tucked in the corner table at the back of the room. She watches them talking to the air or accusing the Doctors of trying to hurt them or rocking in their seats, and wonders
Was I ever that bad?
After lunch, it’s time to sit on the sofa in Doctor Corsair’s office, and pointedly not talk about the Doctor or the TARDIS. Corsair tries to prompt her with questions about the things she saw, or tells her techniques to help her remember what is real. She ignores him until her time runs out.
After a week of silence, he tells her that if she doesn’t talk to him, he can’t let her leave. This news is not new to her, but she’s been missing Him more than usual today, because they had custard for pudding in the cafeteria, and the gentle reminder that there is a whole world outside of this building causes her to blurt out that one time, I floated in the vacuum of space! The Doctor held on to my ankle and I just sort of floated there. It felt kind of like swimming, except I could breathe and there was no resistance when I moved my arms. How is that even possible? Tell me doctor: how can I know what it feels like to float in space if it never happened? How do I know that this isn’t fake and he’s not trying to rescue me? Me and the Doctor, we had so many adventures. We saved people. How can that not be real? If I remember it then it has to be real!
As the egg timer on his desk dings, Doctor Corsair smiles, and tells her that she’s made progress today and he’d very much like it if they could talk more about it tomorrow.
When she enters the office the next day, he gently explains that she’s been here since she was nineteen, when she had her first major break with reality. (The day He came back, she thinks). He explains that her Aunt couldn’t manage on her own and sought out help. He tells her all the details of the treatments they’ve tried and explains that the new medications are the only ones that have helped her in nearly two years. He shows her portions of her records as proof. The evidence before her eyes shows her that the Doctor is most definitely not real and leaves her sobbing for hours after the session ends.
As she leaves that evening she mutters I want to go home. Dr Corsair tells her that if her progress remains good and her Aunt agrees, she can go back to Leadworth in a month or two.
Not that home, she thinks, tears running down her face as she closes the door behind her.
………………………
The first time she meets her husband in this place, the meeting doesn't go very well. He doesn't hug her or smile. He looks worn and thin in his scrubs. The conversation between them is stilted and filled with awkward, too-long pauses. He doesn’t ask questions, but she does.
She asks him about his life. She wants to know about her Rory.
He looks uncomfortable and murmurs that he’s married. Two years next month, he adds. I’ve been a Doctor for about three years now. I met my wife in med school.
Amy shifts in her seat and wonders what else she’s missed out on whilst she’s been here.
The conversation between them lulls again.
Rory coughs.
Amy looks at the landscape prints on the wall.
Silence.
Can't we just be 'Amy and Rory' again? She asks, thinking of children playing a game of pirates on an autumn afternoon.
He looks at her strangely.
We never were 'Amy and Rory', he says.
Oh.
………………………
She sits in the little stone courtyard, basking in the sunlight, and out of the corner of her eye she sees a statue.
An angel.
She freezes, and tells herself It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not - oh god Doctor!
She stares at the stone angel for hours, terrified that if she blinks, she'll end up somewhere adrift in time.
It's dark by the time a nurse finds her shivering on a bench, and tries to gently coax her inside with soft words and come on Amy, remember what Doctor Corsair told you now. She doesn’t budge.
In the end they have to sedate her.
Despite the medication, she doesn't sleep well.
………………………
Her aunt visits every few days. As often as I can sweetheart, she says as she reaches across the table to hold Amy’s hand.
They don’t quite know how to act around each other. Sharon is clearly used to holding one-sided conversations, and often stops in the middle of retelling the story of how so-and-so broke the kettle at the office or how Mrs Agis from down the road simply must be going senile in that house with all those cats, with an apologetic smile and a question that forces Amy to talk for a minute. Sometimes they fall silent, but it isn’t awkward like it was when Rory came and sat in the same chair. It’s just the silence of two people re-learning how to act around each other.
Amy only speaks without prompting once, just as Sharon is about to leave. As her aunt rises from the patterned armchair and begins to gather her coat and bag, Amy realises that she hasn’t asked if she can come and live in Leadworth again.
Sharon, Amy calls, desperation tingeing her voice, can I come and stay with you once I get out of here?
Sharon looks taken aback. Oh Amelia, she croons, you don’t even have to ask. It’s your home for as long as you want it. You’re always welcome.
Amy smiles shyly.
Sharon smiles and promises to tell the Doctors that Amy will be coming to live with her on her release.
………………………
Sometimes, she sees things around the hospital that remind her of her adventures. She walks past the lounge one morning to hear River Tam talking inside. She goes in - expecting to see the waif-girl. All she sees is the beige room with only a television bolted against the wall. It’s been left on, and is showing the Captain saying ‘morbid and creepifying, I got no problem with, long as she does it quiet-like. ‘
Amy frowns. That’s not right, she thinks. I met them, I know those people.
Later, she mentions it in her session with Dr Corsair. He explains that the nurses discovered they could get her out of her room as long as she was allowed to watch something that featured space. So they planted her in front of Firefly and she was content. She simply drew her hallucinations from what she saw.
Amy is quiet at the news. Just another thing that never happened I suppose. She says she feels like everything she knows is a lie.
Doctor Corsair looks at her kindly. I’m afraid so.
………………………
The hardest days are when she doesn’t remember that the Doctor isn’t coming. On those days, she wanders the halls, searching for a sign of rescue. Sometimes she thinks she hears him calling her name or the whisper of the TARDIS engines and she sprints towards the sound, arms flung wide in anticipation of a squeezing hug. As she runs, afraid to call out to him and lose the thin trail of sound, she always realises she isn’t hearing what she thinks she is.
It’s never his voice calling Amelia! Amelia Pond! Get your coat, we’re off! Sometimes it’s the PA system telling her she has a visitor. Once she followed the noise into the Doctor’s Lounge, bursting in with a wide smile, only to see several Doctors deep in conversation, bent over a file.
One day, she’s running towards the sound of the sonic screwdriver and she takes a corner far too fast. She loses her footing and crashes into the wall, head-first. The last thing she thinks before she blacks out is oh God; I’m going to lose the trail again!
She wakes up on a glass floor, bathed in orange light. There is a gentle humming vibrating through her that feels like welcome. She sits up, carefully holding her eyes shut tight, and prays let this all be here when I open my eyes. Please, just this once. Please let me be home.
She opens her eyes; and draws a shocked breath when the TARDIS console room remains constant around her. Jumping up, she runs her hand across the console, feeling all the buttons and miscellaneous controls under her hand. She laughs delightedly into the empty air.
Wait. Empty air?
Where is he? She thinks. He won’t have gone far.
She’s about to go looking for him when he appears suddenly at the top of the stairs.
“Hello, Pond.” he says, quietly.
“Hello Doctor,” She replies softly. “Did you miss me?”
He sighs deeply, “Of course I missed you Amelia. Don’t doubt that I always miss you when you’re gone.” Shaking his head, he grins brightly and jumps down the last few stairs to land in front of her. “Where do you want to go? I was thinking Krallax, but I’m open to suggestions.”
She looks at him, feeling sadness rise in her chest. “I don’t think I can stay Doctor. I’m not sure why, but I think I don’t belong here anymore. I think…” she pauses, afraid to say the words caught in her throat.
“You think what, Pond?” he asks, distractedly pressing buttons and twirling levers.
“I think this isn’t real. I think this is all in my head,” she says gently, on an exhale of breath.
The Doctor freezes. He looks up at her calm face, clearly horrified.
“Amelia! How can you think that? Can’t you see me, hear me, feel me?” he proclaims, rushing over and hugging her tight to his body.
She tries to relax into the grip, but something in the back of her head won’t let her be reassured by the smell of the universe rising of his jacket or the warm solidness of his body.
She steps out of his embrace and turns her head to hide her tears.
“No Doctor! Stop lying to me. I can’t trust my senses anymore. I need you not to lie to me! I’m not a child!”
She’s crying openly now, tears staining her reddened cheeks and falling unchecked onto the floor.
The Doctor looks like he wants to argue, to push her around to his way of thinking. He takes a deep breath, probably to start off on a lengthy speech as to why he is most definitely real no matter what anyone says thank you very much, when she looks him straight in the eye and whispers, “Please. Please Doctor. For me.”
He deflates, sinking into himself. With a sad smile hiding in his eyes he takes a much gentler breath and starts again.
“In the sense of the here and now,” he begins, “I am as real as you are. The problem is, you’re dreaming. Simply put as that is. Really, it’s more of a hallucinatory experience - with a side of subconscious wishing and just a touch of a concussion. But that doesn’t really matter.”
He pauses, gauging her reaction to his words. She has stopped crying now, but makes no move to wipe the tear tracks drying on her face. Her eyes ask him to continue.
“I’m so sorry, Amelia. Everything you remember happening with me, it was all a lie. It was all in your head. But its okay now, you’re going to get better and forget about the mad man and his box that stole you away.” He shakes his head again.
Amy wonders if she is crying again, because he seems to be going fuzzy at the edges, like a bad video. Distantly, she hears someone calling her name. She ignores it, and tries to focus on the Doctor’s words.
“I was always just your imaginary friend Amelia. I think you understand that now.” He smiles softly, and reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers seem to pass right through the strands.
“Time to grow up, Amelia Pond.” His lips brush against her forehead, but she can’t quite feel it. “Goodbye.”
As he speaks, the voice calling her name grows too loud to ignore. She covers her ears and shuts her eyes against the shouting. When she opens them again, she is in the hospital corridor and a nurse is standing over her, asking her if she’s alright.
Nodding carefully, she gets to her feet.
Time to grow up, she thinks. Time to go home.
She shuffles away from the concerned nurse, heading to her doctor’s office to tell him that she wants to leave soon. She’s ready to go back to real life.
………………………
It takes several weeks of steady routine and improvement before they start to seriously consider allowing her to leave. During the time, Amy remains bright and cheerful, interacting with the staff and talks about everything with Dr Corsair. She doesn’t have any episodes.
She gets up and goes about her day like a normal person, which for a time, is a complete novelty to experience.
Sharon continues to visit every few days, and they discuss plans to redecorate her room.
Rory passes through only once. He is laughing with a brunette woman in scrubs. Amy watches him walk by with a sad smile, but does not say hello.
Eventually the day comes when she is ready to leave. She packs the small suitcase that Sharon bought for her during yesterday’s visit. She does the rounds of goodbyes with the nurses, most of whom are happy that she’s getting out.
With a feeling of great achievement, she walks out the front doors for the first time.
………………………
Leadworth hasn’t changed since she left. The pond is still duck-less. The post office remains shut.
When she enters her aunt’s home, she feels a wave of nostalgia. Sharon’s redecorated the front hall, and it takes her a moment to get her bearings. She feels nervous, and her aunt leads her to her bedroom, chattering the whole way up the stairs.
Her room is untouched, although the bed has been freshly made. She collapses into it, somehow exhausted with the day of travelling. She sleeps without dreams.
………………………
The next few days are spent clearing away her old toys and shopping for new items to decorate her room.
When the time comes to choose a new colour to paint the walls, Amy finds herself picking out a deep purple. It takes her a while to figure out why the colour is so familiar.
Sharon comments on how elegant the rooms looks, how the colour makes the room seem bigger.
Amy remembers her room on the TARDIS. Purple walls and thick carpet.
Her bedroom is now almost identical, save for the various space-y odds and ends.
Not real, not real. She chants, closing her eyes against the onslaught of memories. You made it up, remember? Not real.
Despite her knowing it never happened, she feels more at home than she thought possible.
………………………
All her life people have given her names. She took to collecting them, holding them to her chest like precious jewels, a reminder of all the people who remembered her.
As child she remembers mutterings of ‘the kissogram’ following her, but it didn’t matter. The mutterings were not hurtful, just scandalised.
He called her ‘The Girl Who Waited’.
Waited for what? She thinks.
Now names follow her down the street again. These names hurt. They call her ‘the mad one’, and ‘the head-case’ and sometimes just simply ‘her’.
But she thinks of all her names, her favourite is not one she was given, but one she gave herself.
The Girl Who Remembered Too Much.
She remembers seeing the stars, running from monsters, growing up with an imaginary friend, getting married, saving the world so many times.
But it gets hard to remember the important things. Like eating and sleeping and talking to her Aunt. But she manages. She has to manage if she wants to stay out of that place. So she eats when prompted and answers questions about her day and lies in bed for eight hours a night staring at the ceiling.
It doesn’t help, she thinks, that the important things I want to remember aren't real.
Tucked up in bed, she sighs and rolls over, shuts her eyes and tries to sleep.
After all, real life goes on no matter what she wants.
………………………
Part Six
Beta: themuslimbarbie
Part Four
A/N: This chapter has been horrible to write. RL has been a pain in the arse, Musie has fucked off for a holiday and just POND FEELS EVERYWHERE.I'm not 100% happy with it, but after a week of edits and a fantastic beta job (many thanks m'dear) it's not going to get any better. So, sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy it. As always, I don't own Doctor Who, and please comment.
In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on. - Robert Frost
I feel so small, she thinks. Small and sad. Everything about this place is just wrong. It's all sterile and white and -
How does that make you feel, Amy?
Everyday since I got here has been exactly the same:
Step 1: Wake up and wonder where I am.
Step 2: Remember.
Step 3: Hope today will be the day He comes bursting in to rescue me.
Step 4: Realise He isn’t coming. That He can’t come.
Rinse and repeat.
Her days are spent lounging in her room until lunchtime, when she is forced to go to the cafeteria. She tries to avoid all contact with other people (patients, she corrects herself), eating her sandwich and yogurt, tucked in the corner table at the back of the room. She watches them talking to the air or accusing the Doctors of trying to hurt them or rocking in their seats, and wonders
Was I ever that bad?
After lunch, it’s time to sit on the sofa in Doctor Corsair’s office, and pointedly not talk about the Doctor or the TARDIS. Corsair tries to prompt her with questions about the things she saw, or tells her techniques to help her remember what is real. She ignores him until her time runs out.
After a week of silence, he tells her that if she doesn’t talk to him, he can’t let her leave. This news is not new to her, but she’s been missing Him more than usual today, because they had custard for pudding in the cafeteria, and the gentle reminder that there is a whole world outside of this building causes her to blurt out that one time, I floated in the vacuum of space! The Doctor held on to my ankle and I just sort of floated there. It felt kind of like swimming, except I could breathe and there was no resistance when I moved my arms. How is that even possible? Tell me doctor: how can I know what it feels like to float in space if it never happened? How do I know that this isn’t fake and he’s not trying to rescue me? Me and the Doctor, we had so many adventures. We saved people. How can that not be real? If I remember it then it has to be real!
As the egg timer on his desk dings, Doctor Corsair smiles, and tells her that she’s made progress today and he’d very much like it if they could talk more about it tomorrow.
When she enters the office the next day, he gently explains that she’s been here since she was nineteen, when she had her first major break with reality. (The day He came back, she thinks). He explains that her Aunt couldn’t manage on her own and sought out help. He tells her all the details of the treatments they’ve tried and explains that the new medications are the only ones that have helped her in nearly two years. He shows her portions of her records as proof. The evidence before her eyes shows her that the Doctor is most definitely not real and leaves her sobbing for hours after the session ends.
As she leaves that evening she mutters I want to go home. Dr Corsair tells her that if her progress remains good and her Aunt agrees, she can go back to Leadworth in a month or two.
Not that home, she thinks, tears running down her face as she closes the door behind her.
………………………
The first time she meets her husband in this place, the meeting doesn't go very well. He doesn't hug her or smile. He looks worn and thin in his scrubs. The conversation between them is stilted and filled with awkward, too-long pauses. He doesn’t ask questions, but she does.
She asks him about his life. She wants to know about her Rory.
He looks uncomfortable and murmurs that he’s married. Two years next month, he adds. I’ve been a Doctor for about three years now. I met my wife in med school.
Amy shifts in her seat and wonders what else she’s missed out on whilst she’s been here.
The conversation between them lulls again.
Rory coughs.
Amy looks at the landscape prints on the wall.
Silence.
Can't we just be 'Amy and Rory' again? She asks, thinking of children playing a game of pirates on an autumn afternoon.
He looks at her strangely.
We never were 'Amy and Rory', he says.
Oh.
………………………
She sits in the little stone courtyard, basking in the sunlight, and out of the corner of her eye she sees a statue.
An angel.
She freezes, and tells herself It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not - oh god Doctor!
She stares at the stone angel for hours, terrified that if she blinks, she'll end up somewhere adrift in time.
It's dark by the time a nurse finds her shivering on a bench, and tries to gently coax her inside with soft words and come on Amy, remember what Doctor Corsair told you now. She doesn’t budge.
In the end they have to sedate her.
Despite the medication, she doesn't sleep well.
………………………
Her aunt visits every few days. As often as I can sweetheart, she says as she reaches across the table to hold Amy’s hand.
They don’t quite know how to act around each other. Sharon is clearly used to holding one-sided conversations, and often stops in the middle of retelling the story of how so-and-so broke the kettle at the office or how Mrs Agis from down the road simply must be going senile in that house with all those cats, with an apologetic smile and a question that forces Amy to talk for a minute. Sometimes they fall silent, but it isn’t awkward like it was when Rory came and sat in the same chair. It’s just the silence of two people re-learning how to act around each other.
Amy only speaks without prompting once, just as Sharon is about to leave. As her aunt rises from the patterned armchair and begins to gather her coat and bag, Amy realises that she hasn’t asked if she can come and live in Leadworth again.
Sharon, Amy calls, desperation tingeing her voice, can I come and stay with you once I get out of here?
Sharon looks taken aback. Oh Amelia, she croons, you don’t even have to ask. It’s your home for as long as you want it. You’re always welcome.
Amy smiles shyly.
Sharon smiles and promises to tell the Doctors that Amy will be coming to live with her on her release.
………………………
Sometimes, she sees things around the hospital that remind her of her adventures. She walks past the lounge one morning to hear River Tam talking inside. She goes in - expecting to see the waif-girl. All she sees is the beige room with only a television bolted against the wall. It’s been left on, and is showing the Captain saying ‘morbid and creepifying, I got no problem with, long as she does it quiet-like. ‘
Amy frowns. That’s not right, she thinks. I met them, I know those people.
Later, she mentions it in her session with Dr Corsair. He explains that the nurses discovered they could get her out of her room as long as she was allowed to watch something that featured space. So they planted her in front of Firefly and she was content. She simply drew her hallucinations from what she saw.
Amy is quiet at the news. Just another thing that never happened I suppose. She says she feels like everything she knows is a lie.
Doctor Corsair looks at her kindly. I’m afraid so.
………………………
The hardest days are when she doesn’t remember that the Doctor isn’t coming. On those days, she wanders the halls, searching for a sign of rescue. Sometimes she thinks she hears him calling her name or the whisper of the TARDIS engines and she sprints towards the sound, arms flung wide in anticipation of a squeezing hug. As she runs, afraid to call out to him and lose the thin trail of sound, she always realises she isn’t hearing what she thinks she is.
It’s never his voice calling Amelia! Amelia Pond! Get your coat, we’re off! Sometimes it’s the PA system telling her she has a visitor. Once she followed the noise into the Doctor’s Lounge, bursting in with a wide smile, only to see several Doctors deep in conversation, bent over a file.
One day, she’s running towards the sound of the sonic screwdriver and she takes a corner far too fast. She loses her footing and crashes into the wall, head-first. The last thing she thinks before she blacks out is oh God; I’m going to lose the trail again!
She wakes up on a glass floor, bathed in orange light. There is a gentle humming vibrating through her that feels like welcome. She sits up, carefully holding her eyes shut tight, and prays let this all be here when I open my eyes. Please, just this once. Please let me be home.
She opens her eyes; and draws a shocked breath when the TARDIS console room remains constant around her. Jumping up, she runs her hand across the console, feeling all the buttons and miscellaneous controls under her hand. She laughs delightedly into the empty air.
Wait. Empty air?
Where is he? She thinks. He won’t have gone far.
She’s about to go looking for him when he appears suddenly at the top of the stairs.
“Hello, Pond.” he says, quietly.
“Hello Doctor,” She replies softly. “Did you miss me?”
He sighs deeply, “Of course I missed you Amelia. Don’t doubt that I always miss you when you’re gone.” Shaking his head, he grins brightly and jumps down the last few stairs to land in front of her. “Where do you want to go? I was thinking Krallax, but I’m open to suggestions.”
She looks at him, feeling sadness rise in her chest. “I don’t think I can stay Doctor. I’m not sure why, but I think I don’t belong here anymore. I think…” she pauses, afraid to say the words caught in her throat.
“You think what, Pond?” he asks, distractedly pressing buttons and twirling levers.
“I think this isn’t real. I think this is all in my head,” she says gently, on an exhale of breath.
The Doctor freezes. He looks up at her calm face, clearly horrified.
“Amelia! How can you think that? Can’t you see me, hear me, feel me?” he proclaims, rushing over and hugging her tight to his body.
She tries to relax into the grip, but something in the back of her head won’t let her be reassured by the smell of the universe rising of his jacket or the warm solidness of his body.
She steps out of his embrace and turns her head to hide her tears.
“No Doctor! Stop lying to me. I can’t trust my senses anymore. I need you not to lie to me! I’m not a child!”
She’s crying openly now, tears staining her reddened cheeks and falling unchecked onto the floor.
The Doctor looks like he wants to argue, to push her around to his way of thinking. He takes a deep breath, probably to start off on a lengthy speech as to why he is most definitely real no matter what anyone says thank you very much, when she looks him straight in the eye and whispers, “Please. Please Doctor. For me.”
He deflates, sinking into himself. With a sad smile hiding in his eyes he takes a much gentler breath and starts again.
“In the sense of the here and now,” he begins, “I am as real as you are. The problem is, you’re dreaming. Simply put as that is. Really, it’s more of a hallucinatory experience - with a side of subconscious wishing and just a touch of a concussion. But that doesn’t really matter.”
He pauses, gauging her reaction to his words. She has stopped crying now, but makes no move to wipe the tear tracks drying on her face. Her eyes ask him to continue.
“I’m so sorry, Amelia. Everything you remember happening with me, it was all a lie. It was all in your head. But its okay now, you’re going to get better and forget about the mad man and his box that stole you away.” He shakes his head again.
Amy wonders if she is crying again, because he seems to be going fuzzy at the edges, like a bad video. Distantly, she hears someone calling her name. She ignores it, and tries to focus on the Doctor’s words.
“I was always just your imaginary friend Amelia. I think you understand that now.” He smiles softly, and reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers seem to pass right through the strands.
“Time to grow up, Amelia Pond.” His lips brush against her forehead, but she can’t quite feel it. “Goodbye.”
As he speaks, the voice calling her name grows too loud to ignore. She covers her ears and shuts her eyes against the shouting. When she opens them again, she is in the hospital corridor and a nurse is standing over her, asking her if she’s alright.
Nodding carefully, she gets to her feet.
Time to grow up, she thinks. Time to go home.
She shuffles away from the concerned nurse, heading to her doctor’s office to tell him that she wants to leave soon. She’s ready to go back to real life.
………………………
It takes several weeks of steady routine and improvement before they start to seriously consider allowing her to leave. During the time, Amy remains bright and cheerful, interacting with the staff and talks about everything with Dr Corsair. She doesn’t have any episodes.
She gets up and goes about her day like a normal person, which for a time, is a complete novelty to experience.
Sharon continues to visit every few days, and they discuss plans to redecorate her room.
Rory passes through only once. He is laughing with a brunette woman in scrubs. Amy watches him walk by with a sad smile, but does not say hello.
Eventually the day comes when she is ready to leave. She packs the small suitcase that Sharon bought for her during yesterday’s visit. She does the rounds of goodbyes with the nurses, most of whom are happy that she’s getting out.
With a feeling of great achievement, she walks out the front doors for the first time.
………………………
Leadworth hasn’t changed since she left. The pond is still duck-less. The post office remains shut.
When she enters her aunt’s home, she feels a wave of nostalgia. Sharon’s redecorated the front hall, and it takes her a moment to get her bearings. She feels nervous, and her aunt leads her to her bedroom, chattering the whole way up the stairs.
Her room is untouched, although the bed has been freshly made. She collapses into it, somehow exhausted with the day of travelling. She sleeps without dreams.
………………………
The next few days are spent clearing away her old toys and shopping for new items to decorate her room.
When the time comes to choose a new colour to paint the walls, Amy finds herself picking out a deep purple. It takes her a while to figure out why the colour is so familiar.
Sharon comments on how elegant the rooms looks, how the colour makes the room seem bigger.
Amy remembers her room on the TARDIS. Purple walls and thick carpet.
Her bedroom is now almost identical, save for the various space-y odds and ends.
Not real, not real. She chants, closing her eyes against the onslaught of memories. You made it up, remember? Not real.
Despite her knowing it never happened, she feels more at home than she thought possible.
………………………
All her life people have given her names. She took to collecting them, holding them to her chest like precious jewels, a reminder of all the people who remembered her.
As child she remembers mutterings of ‘the kissogram’ following her, but it didn’t matter. The mutterings were not hurtful, just scandalised.
He called her ‘The Girl Who Waited’.
Waited for what? She thinks.
Now names follow her down the street again. These names hurt. They call her ‘the mad one’, and ‘the head-case’ and sometimes just simply ‘her’.
But she thinks of all her names, her favourite is not one she was given, but one she gave herself.
The Girl Who Remembered Too Much.
She remembers seeing the stars, running from monsters, growing up with an imaginary friend, getting married, saving the world so many times.
But it gets hard to remember the important things. Like eating and sleeping and talking to her Aunt. But she manages. She has to manage if she wants to stay out of that place. So she eats when prompted and answers questions about her day and lies in bed for eight hours a night staring at the ceiling.
It doesn’t help, she thinks, that the important things I want to remember aren't real.
Tucked up in bed, she sighs and rolls over, shuts her eyes and tries to sleep.
After all, real life goes on no matter what she wants.
………………………
Part Six