A/N Was I the only one who thought little Amelia waiting in the garden with her suitcase was so adorable?

I asked to come with him, and he said no.

They all thought I was mad. I think they pitied me, to be honest. Little Amelia Pond, the ginger Scottish orphan. How much more of a social outcast can you be at seven years old? I think it was that which stopped them sectioning me. Even throughout my teenage years, I tried to maintain normality. They told me he was just a dream, or an imaginary friend. I knew better. He told me he'd come back for me, and I believed him. I think I was a fool.

When Aunt Susan came home and found me waiting in the garden in my nightdress and coat, sitting on my suitcase, she took me inside and told me not to be so silly, and that men in time machines that looked like those old police boxes didn't exist. Then she saw all the food that was missing from the fridge and smacked me for being so greedy. She couldn't explain how the shed got destroyed, though.

I knew he'd come back for me, though. My Doctor, the only man who'd ever taken me seriously. I thought he was the mad one, eating fish fingers and custard. When I asked Aunt Susan for it the next day she told me not to be so ridiculous. Nobody ever had fish fingers and custard.

At school I told Jeff and Rory about the Doctor. They were my best friends, and best friends share secrets, right? I drew them pictures and we played pretend that we were travelling with him. I don't know how much of it they really believed and how much of it was just them playing along, but at least they didn't send me to a psychiatrist. Not like Aunt Susan and Mrs Taylor from school.

I hated seeing them. Nobody would believe me. And as I grew older, I began to lose any hope that he'd ever come back for me. I think I wanted him to come back, to give me a chance to escape from this stupid town. It was more out of desperation than anything else. Just when I started giving up hope, though, the crack in my wall reminded me. Rory and Jeff kept reminding me, as well. On my eighteenth birthday, Jeff gave me a picture I'd drawn of the Doctor and us three as kids. I'd totally forgotten about it.

Then, one day, he did come back. I was nineteen and working as a kissogram. Classy, I know, but I was skint and needed all the money I could get. Rory was a nurse, and Jeff...well, porn's a pretty solid investment in the economic crisis, but don't tell his nan that's what he does. She thinks he runs an online business. Well, I suppose it's true, to an extent.

The thing is, I'd all but given up on the Doctor by then. He'd let me down before, as five minutes turned into twelve years, and if I was honest, I didn't want another disappointment. I think I deliberately refused to believe it was him, just so he'd stay the perfect childhood memory that nearly got me sectioned.

I was just going to hope he'd walk out of my life, like he did before, and it could go back to normal. Or as normal as my life ever was. Then, of course, he had to go and save the world. Then call the bloody aliens back to Earth again. I was impressed, though. Apart from his dress sense. That was awful. Next, though, he had to go and leave me. Again.

I don't know why I even bothered. Jeff's timekeeping is perfect compared to the Doctor's. Two years later, he returned again. Just on the night before I was due to marry Rory, with Jeff as my best man, typically. Perfect timing. Not.

I couldn't turn him down, though. Not really. The seven year old girl inside me was desperate to travel, even though at twenty one I was old enough to know better not to run away with strange men. But balls to that. I remembered back to when I was sitting on the suitcase, then seeing all the psychiatrists. I couldn't have gone through all that for nothing.

This time, he asked me to come with him. I said yes.