A/N: I know there are lots of Human Nature themed stories out there, but trust me, this one is different. This fic is something I thought of in bed last night... I hope you enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated.
Disclaimer: DO NOT OWN DOCTOR WHO.
It was raining. Again. All it ever seemed to do in East London was rain; thick sheets of never-settling, never-evaporating, heavy drizzle. The days were drizzley and the nights were drizzley, and everything else between was drizzley too. It would say on the weather forecast that the whole of London would be bright with a hazy sunshine, but it always managed to rain at some point in the East. The South, West and North would most likely enjoy the sun and the warmth, while the East would sit indoors and wait for the never-ending streaks of deluge to at least half relax. And that really wasn't fair, to be honest.
The days, especially in the winter, were drastically short too. The bleak and watery sunshine would break through the copious clouds at around eight-thirty in the morning then set again a few hours later at four in the afternoon, maybe even three-thirty. Sometimes it was three o'clock. So, for most of the time, the area was covered in complete darkness. Darkness and drizzle. Not a great mix- especially when the temperature outside was coming and closer to getting below freezing point. According to Amy Pond, London was just plain miserable. For once in her travels with the Doctor, she actually missed Leadworth; and that really was saying something. In Amy's eyes, Leadworth was currently in for winning the first and foremost prize at the annual Most Boring Village in Britain Competition. For the twentieth year in a row.
But she wasn't travelling with the Doctor anymore; she had to keep reminding herself that. Not for now, anyway. So maybe Leadworth wasn't so boring after all, compared to this.
It was coming up to the twenty-fifth of December two thousand and four- currently, in Leadworth, Amy's younger, fifteen year old self would be looking forward to Christmas. Two thousand and four… She would've been in Year Ten, then. That was the year she was cast as Little Red Riding Hood in the annual Leadworth community drama club Pantomime.
Amy smiled to herself. That was a great year. She got a standing ovation after that play; although, the audience only consisted of a few parents who could be bothered to turn up, the teachers from Leadworth Primary and Comprehensive as well as the little old woman who worked in the sweet shop. And she was only there for the free custard creams.
The main thing Amy remembered about two thousand and four was how proud her parents were of her. Amy had stolen the show, which was a new thing for Augustus and Tabetha. It was usually Amy's best friend Mels who hogged the limelight, or maybe little Rory who always managed to wet himself in the corner in his sheep costume, as he was too scared to ask to go to the toilet. But that time, that Christmas of two thousand and four, Amy had finally got the attention. Mels was thrown into a wolf costume and she was perfectly happy at pretending to eat people, and Rory finally spoke up and said he would much rather be behind the scenes than on the stage.
That all felt so far away now. The sound of applause as Amy took her final bow, the light kiss she'd pressed on Rory's cheek afterwards because she was feeling lighter than air. The deep, red flush of Rory's whole face (and most of his neck) as he slowly shuffled and stumbled off and stammered about needing to go backstage.
Geographically, it wasn't very far away at all. Go up a hundred or so miles from London and you'd find the little village of Leadworth, in the midst of Christmas spirit. The community hall would have all of its lights on as well as its rickety old radiator pumping out heat full blast; but if you were counting the warmth of the people's hearts within, the heater wasn't needed at all. The adults would be laughing as Rory tripped over a prop behind the stage, a baby crying when Mels was a little bit too in character in her beloved wolf outfit. There would be claps and cheers as Amy Pond, as Little Red Riding Hood, defeated the bad wolf and returned to her grandmother's house.
But, memory wise, that was just it- a memory. Even though it was happening right now, it was eight years ago for Amy. Eight, long years ago. Eight years she could never go back to. She'd have to relive the Christmas of two thousand and four, but at twenty-three instead of fifteen.
And they say you can't live the same year twice.
The thing is, Amy didn't want to relive Christmas two thousand and four. She wanted to be travelling among the stars, living years she couldn't possibly live in her lifetime and visiting planets she couldn't possibly visit stuck in the 21st century. She wanted to be with the Doctor and her husband and her daughter, adventuring through time and space doing impossible things.
But, right now, she couldn't have all three. She couldn't even have one. Her husband, Rory Williams, had no idea where she was, and she had no idea where he was. Her daughter, Melody Pond or River Song as she was more commonly known, had no idea that she existed. And the Doctor…
Amy sighed, leaning her leather jacket covered elbow against the side of the counter. She was waiting in the line at a tiny Fish and Chip shop situated around a three minute walk from the Estate in which she lived. The sign outside was bright yellow neon lights, emblazoned with the name 'Oh My Cod' and a flickering outline of a blue fish underneath. Amy assumed the reason the owners had shelled out on neon lighting was so possible customers could make it out through the constant drizzle.
Amy had gotten over the name 'Oh My Cod' a couple of weeks back; she'd forgiven the owners as they made the best fish and chips known to man, as well as the shop being open through the night so she could go and sit in there when she was feeling especially down. The coffee was pretty rubbish too, but it was enough to lighten her mood on days like this.
The 'Oh My Cod' establishment wasn't anything special interior wise. It was your classic greasy chippie; with a blue and white checked tile floor and white, gradually turning yellow, walls. The three illuminous white bar lights above constantly flickered and shone white light onto the shop below, and the blue buzzing insect trap on the right wall was always covered with flies- which slightly worried Amy at times.
Despite the drab inside, 'Oh My Cod' was always crammed full of people and the friendly, sociable staff managed to entice many customers back for another of their battered cods and freshly made chips. Amy Pond had now become one of those people who had become a regular at their local fish and chip shop- a feat she'd thought that she'd never achieve while she was travelling with the Doctor.
But you aren't travelling with the Doctor, remember? He isn't with you. He won't be for a while yet.
"That'll be six and fifty, please, Miss." said the young boy, Mickey, who was always behind the counter.
Every time Amy entered 'Oh My Cod', Mickey was always there, with a massive smile on his face. Mickey seemed to be the one thing that remained a constant in Amy's life in the past couple of weeks and she'd grown to treat the lad as a friend- especially over those six or seven nights she'd spent in the tiny chip shop. At midnight or so, when Amy tended to go in, Mickey would always say hello. If 'Oh My Cod' had no customers, sometimes, he would sit down next to her.
Mickey had a bit of a soft spot for Amy Pond. He loved her flame red hair and her Scottish lilt and although he had a girlfriend, he wouldn't hesitate to talk to the young woman if she popped in.
Amy rummaged round her coat pocket for her change, before finally clinking five pound coins and a twenty pence piece onto the counter. "Oh, shit."
Amy smiled awkwardly at Mickey as she slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans, searching for another thirty pence. "Um…"
"Don't worry about it," Mickey winked, handing Amy over the fresh fish and chips in the two cardboard boxes. "You're enough of a regular for me to let you off a penny or two."
Amy sighed with relief, despite feeling a bit of an idiot. "Cheers, Mickey."
"Just don't tell anyone," Mickey warned with a grin, "Or I might get the sack."
"I wouldn't worry about that." Amy grinned back, gripping the boxes in her fingerless gloves. She could immediately feel the warmth of the food between her fingers.
Mickey leaned in a little further, so his face was closer to Amy's. "So, are you with someone tonight? I've never seen you in here with anyone before, at a sensible time."
Amy smiled a little, glancing over to the window. "Yeah. Yeah, I am…"
"Boyfriend?" Mickey asked, trying to look casual.
"No!" Amy replied a little too quickly, realising afterwards. "I mean, no. I have a… No, just a friend."
"Oh. Well then." Mickey smiled, ready to greet his next customer. "Enjoy. Come in again some time."
Amy nodded back in reply, grabbing a two wooden sticks and a napkin from the pot beside the counter before turning into one of the booths. That was another thing she liked about 'Oh My Cod'. The takeaway was also a sort of restaurant, split into different cubicles if you wanted to eat in peace. Amy indulged herself in this luxury, grabbing one of the booths if she could.
"Here you go, as promised." Amy said, pressing her two boxes onto the table and sliding onto the cold, leather seat. "The best fish and chips in the whole of East London."
The man sat opposite the young Scottish girl grinned and rubbed his hands together. "Oh yes. I love chips. I really do." he opened the cardboard box, taking in the aroma of the deep-fried cod and potato. "How much do I owe you?"
Amy flinched. She was still getting used to those sort of sentences coming out of his mouth. "Nothing. It's on me."
He was already tucking into the hot potato, slashing vinegar over the top plus a splash of the tomato ketchup. He grunted in reply, too busy enjoying his food to properly answer. "Do you know if they have any bananas? Bananas are good."
"Bananas?" Amy queried, opening her box and spearing the first chip with care. "Why would they have bananas in a fish and chip shop?"
"I don't know. Why would they have bananas in a fish and chip shop?" he asked, squirting yet another sachet of sauce into his box.
"What?"
"I thought you were about to tell a joke, Amy."
"No. You just asked me whether they had bananas here."
"No, no I didn't. We're in a chippie, Amy. Why would they have fruit here?" he paused, finally taking the time to chew his food rather than swallowing it whole. "And you're right, about these chips being the best in East London. That they are, Amy. That they are."
Amy threw down her stick, not feeling in the right mood anymore for a fish and chip supper. Instead she watched her friend take it in. He practically inhaled his food.
Sometimes, he said things like that, without thinking. Things which only he could properly comprehend. Yet he said it, like a bit of him remained. But when Amy questioned him about it, he automatically withdrew it like he hadn't said anything at all.
But he's not him, remember? He's different.
Sitting opposite Amy was John Smith. Johnny Smith, sorry. He refused to be called by his birth name due to some bad memories. Amy and Johnny had been best friends since forever, growing up in the same part of London as kids before getting a flat together at eighteen.
Johnny was a genius, an eccentric. He never really fitted in at school because of his intellectual ability and his incredibly mad haircut. Johnny was destined for great things, all his teachers said, but when both his parents died in a crash when he was sixteen, all hopes of further education died in the dust. Johnny couldn't afford university in his wildest dreams, so he had to live with working in a corner shop for the rest of his life. He had an IQ which was off the scale but there was nothing Johnny or Amy could do about it, so they had to cope with living in a Council Estate and crap wages and dodgy central heating. Johnny had nothing left of his parents once they died; the only thing which could be of any value which he inherited from them was a broken fobwatch which he kept on him at all times. He didn't know why he just didn't throw it away; for some reason, it just felt right.
And Amy always reminded him that it was the last relic from his parents, that it was special.
Amy felt her stomach tie in knots. This was too weird. Watching the Do- wait, Johnny eat like everything was okay… It was too human.
And the thing is, two weeks ago, Johnny wasn't human.