AN: I don't really know what this is - it just came to me and I had to write it down. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who...unfortunately
Lost, Not Forgotten
He dreams about her sometimes. Mad, impossible Amy Pond and her lilting Scottish accent. They're running around the Tardis as it flies through the air, whirring and roaring with a sound he considers laughter. Their voices meld together like music and he catches her from behind, turning her into him. But before he can see her face and those eyes that haunt him, he awakes, covered in sweat and tears.
He mourns her, the loss of the girl he loved, the girl that was never his. Everything reminds him of her and he barricades himself behind closed doors. Nights turn into weeks, then months and before he knows it, he turns into someone else, something else. He's the shell of the man he used to be when he meets Clara Oswin Oswald. She captures his attention, but she too notices the sadness in his eyes.
"Are you lonely?" She once asks him. "Have you lost something?"
The question catches him off-guard but he shakes his head, whispers, "no," as he lowers his eyes. Deep down, he knows that his answer is a lie and he feels the truth in his gut clawing at his insides. It's in that moment that he realizes that in order for him to...just...be...okay, he needs to move past his lost Pond. So he stores her in the back of his mind, hides her memory away in his hearts and sets out in the Tardis.
Months later and he's once more flying through time and space as he tries to uncover the mystery that is his new companion, Clara Oswald. They're on some planet, much too far from Earth, when he sees her and his hearts stop for a fraction of a second. It can't be. The thought resonates in his mind, but before he can stop himself, he's thrown back to the past and all he can see is his Pond. Amelia Pond. Memories come flooding back to him, his arms wrapped around her waist, her hands on his shoulders and her lips pressed to his forehead. Gotcha. Her voice echoes in his mind and a single tear falls slowly toward his clenched fists.
The Amy Pond-lookalike throws her head back in laughter, her glorious red hair falling in front of her twinkling golden eyes and he's captivated, lost in a trance. Slowly, he gets up and begins to walk toward the girl in front of him. He can hear the padded footsteps of a bewildered Clara behind him and he knows that his actions will amount to nothing because she's gone, but he can't stop himself. The lookalike must hear the sheer determination in his steps because just before he reaches her, she turns around. He stops suddenly. It's all wrong, he realizes, she's all wrong. Her eyes are thin slits, slightly slanted away from each other. Her nose is small and turned up, and her mouth is merely a thin line that stretches from one side of her face to the other. She cocks her head in an unfamiliar way and he smiles, nods, than turns on his heels and leaves.
When Clara later questions him, he shrugs. "She looks like someone I used to know." Clara nods in understanding as she places her hand in his.
"Tell me about her," she says softly. So he does.
"Her name was Amelia Pond. Mad, impossible, glorious Amy Pond..."