CHAPTER ONE

"I've got a sort of banging in my head."

The words stuck in the old man's mind. He couldn't get rid of them. They repeated themselves whenever it was quiet, again and again.

I've got a sort of banging in my head.

A sort of banging in my head.

Banging in my head.

Banging.

Banging.

My head.

He thought over the moment again and again, wondered if it was true, or just his time-addled, grief-muddled brain thinking things over too much.

But he couldn't help but worry. Had this man, this man who never died, this man who lived for love, who was besotted so clearly with Amelia Pond ... how could anyone so kind, anyone so human ever be … be who the Doctor thought he might?

No. He was kidding himself. Joking. Hoping. It was never going to happen.

"Doctor! Can we actually do something today?" Amy asked, as the Doctor, a wrench in one hand and his sonic screwdriver in the other, slid on his back underneath the TARDIS console, humming to himself. "No, Pond, go play with Rory."

"Play? I'm not that much of a child."

"Yes you are, now shoo."

She could hear the smile in his voice as she walked up the stairs, off to go talk to Rory, or maybe explore the TARDIS' wardrobe room a bit more.

The Doctor stayed underneath, fixing his TARDIS, still humming, but then he thought – he slid out again, his coat pushing up against the smooth glass floor. Standing, he pulled the screen closer to him, and pressed a few buttons. A photograph came up: Rory Williams (Pond?), staring out of the screen. To the left, it had a list of facts:

Name: Rory Pond

Home town: Leadworth

Parents: Alana and Jonathan Williams

Species: Human/Unknown-

The Doctor stopped reading right there. Unknown?

"What on Earth," he said aloud, "is that supposed to mean?"

But there was no reply. He could only stare, filled with worry, at the screen. What was that supposed to mean? He adjusted his bowtie, but he really wasn't thinking about it. How could it … how could this even …

No. Rory was human, and even if he was something else, the Doctor was thinking madly. Jumping to the conclusion he most hoped for.

Or feared.

Or something messed up like that.