My alternative Eleven / Amy meeting. Rated T for further chapters. (cough*passionatekisses*cough)
Amy Pond noted at least 4 odd things before she was dressed out of her nightie that morning.
One. It was snowing… in July.
Two. There was a freshly made cup of hot coffee by her beside when she woke. (She picked this up, sniffed it, and proceeded to drink it cautiously.)
Three. It was Seven Thirty and very dark.
and Four. There was a young man in a tweed jacket with floppy brown hair sitting on the edge of her balcony railings, legs dangling off the side that faced her apartment. She hadn't a clue who he was or the faintest idea what he was doing there. She'd quite like to ask but wasn't sure how.
"Hello?" she called. He continued to stare aimlessly at her satellite dish. "Hello?" Amy called louder, making the man jump and topple over backwards, falling from the balcony with a yelp. Amy cursed and dropped her coffee, running to the open French windows. She peered over the small balcony and saw the man lying on the ground, at least five stories below, motionless.
"Omigod!" Amy ran into her bedroom, shoving her feet into her slippers and pulling on a dressing gown before flying out into the apartment block corridors and straight to the lifts. Luckily, it was empty and she didn't have to wait. She rushed in; hitting the GROUND button and muttering "Come on!" under her breath. She anxiously watched the neon numbers change from five to three, helplessly wondering why and how there had been a strange man on her balcony to start with. When the lift hit the bottom, she sprinted from the building, wrapping her dressing gown around her to protect herself from the mystery snow. The man was conscious, sitting up and groaning.
"Are you alright?!" Amy cried. The man looked up.
"Knock on the head," he mumbled. "Just what I needed. Although, the fourty foot drop I could've done without."
"Are- are you okay?" Amy asked again, trying not to shiver. The man looked at her.
"Amelia Pond," he said.
"Amy," Amy corrected him. Less bothered about the man's knowledge and more about his health, she asked, "Do you think you'll need a hospital?"
"No need," he said. "I'm a doctor." Amy frowned, not quite seeing the solution in this statement. Her teeth chattered. "You look a little cold," the man noted, touching a hand to his head. Checking for blood, Amy suspected.
"It is snowing," she said.
"What are you out here dressed like that for?" the man looked at her as if she was vaguely stupid. Amy returned the look.
"You fell off my balcony!" she cried.
"Still, why are you in a night gown?"
"I just woke up!" Amy's eyebrows were rising with each indignant retort. Was this man mad?
"Why were you sleeping this late?"
"It's seven fourty-five!"
The man frowned. "Wait, really?"
"Yes."
"It's very dark…" the man leapt up, smiled, and ran a hand though his tousled hair. Almost immediately his smile dropped and his knees gave way and he fell, blinking hard.
"Have you broken anything?" Amy asked.
"No bones…" suddenly panic flashed on his face. "Wait!" he yelled. "Wait, shut up," he hit his own head with such force Amy subconsciously took a step back. You'd think a man who had just fallen from the second to top floor of a rather tall building wouldn't be hitting his head. The man dived into his pocket and pulled out an odd silver device with a small green light on the end. He sighed in relief. "Nope. Nothing important. However, I have a blinding headache."
"Would you like a lie down?" Amy still wasn't sure why she was being so kind to a total stranger, who knew her name and her address and carried around strange alien gizmos. He smiled dozily.
"That would be nice," he said, flashing a quick grin before passing out. Amy rolled her eyes.
