Chapter 1

It was just another day in the Emergency Room. A tad slow, but it was only early on in Amy Pond's mid-morning shift. On top of that, it was only a Thursday. She had just finished filing a report on her most recent patient—a young boy who had fallen off of his bike and hurt his leg—when the large automatic double doors opened.

Amy looked up out of habit to assess the newcomer. Her gaze always worked from the bottom, shifting upwards: ability to walk properly, visible injuries, blood stains, age and gender. She scanned the person. The first thing Amy noticed was that they could walk perfectly fine, with a swagger even, and had no visible injuries or blood. In fact, they looked perfectly normal. The second thing she noticed was that he was a male. Then she really, truly saw his face.

No. No. This can't be happening. He can't be back. Not after all this time, she thought.

Still, despite her doubts, he swished through the doors; bow tie, fez, and all. Of course he still had that stupid hat. His face was as young as ever, with maybe just a bit more stubble than he had four years ago. His chin was still prominent and his ears still perky.

He grinned excessively as he trooped over to the reception desk, tugging his bow tie taut. Panic took over Amy's body and she ducked under her desk, shaking. Her breathing hitched and her heart began racing. She repeated a mantra to herself—Pull it together, Amy. He's just one person. But he wasn't. She had to get out of there.

Amy looked around, not that she needed to. She came here so often, she could navigate her way to the break room even if the hospital was turned upside down. Amy glanced around; everyone was busy attending to patients. She shot out from under the desk and made a mad dash to the break room, not even 10 metres away. Amy thanked god that it was one of those double-hinged doors with no handle, or she would have crashed right into the door with her fogging eyes.

There was no one in the break room. She could tell because it was completely silent, a stark contrast to the beeps, cries and voices of the ER. Out there, it was organised chaos, but in here, it was just organised. The swept floors, tidy desks and neatly stacked crates helped calm her down slightly. Amy thrived in organisation.

She still needed to get out, though. Amy glanced around, thinking of the quickest, easiest solution. She decided upon a family emergency—her boss was a sucker for family emergencies. Working in the ER probably does that to you. Grabbing a cube of pink post-it notes from her desk, she scribbled on the top one:

Had to leave. Family emergency. Tell Nurse Hame I'll make up the hours this Saturday.
-A

Amy ripped it off the stack and stuck it to her colleague, Rory's computer. She reasoned that he was such a computer nerd, it would be impossible for him to miss it.

Collecting her bag, Amy made her way out the back exit. Somehow, she managed to start her car and drive home, if only in fear of what would happen if she stayed behind.

The sky was dull and grey, just like everything seemed to her these days. Nothing ever really had an appeal. The days were monotonous; long and tedious. In Amy's world, every single motion felt like such a huge effort. Even just unlocking the front door to her apartment sucked up so much energy.

She stepped inside and swung her keys somewhere vaguely to the left, where they narrowly made it onto the side table. The nimble girl heaved her body weight against the back of the door and it slammed shut. She slid down it, falling to the ground with her head in her hands.

Why was he there? What brought him back? Does he still remember me? Now that she had left the hospital and was able to cry freely, nothing came out. Just big, heaving gasps of air. Her legs shook against the cold tiles, and her chest quivered.

Ever since he left, Amy was damaged beyond repair. She had hoped her job as a triage nurse would help her feel something, even pain, but it couldn't fix the hole in her soul. Nothing could.

The story between them was short, almost in a comical manner, considering the pain Amy felt because of it. He had been offered a better job at some swanky private hospital in Michigan. America. A whole 6,046 kilometres away. Before the offer, they'd been great friends for a while, graduating med school together. Amy could feel herself falling for him, though she could tell he didn't feel the same. When he learnt about his job offer, he was so excited. He seemed wary about leaving Amy, but she could see the anticipation in his eyes. She knew just how important this was to him. She told him that she would be fine, that of course he should take the job. But deep down, Amy knew: it wasn't that she had such convincing lying skills. It wasn't that she had practically packed his luggage for him. It was that she wasn't enough to keep him here.

Having all this rush back to her should have made her feel pain, hurt, or anger. I wish. Instead, there was nothing. Only numbness; black goo oozing into every particle of her body. It stopped her brain from working properly. It took over all her functions. Amy knew that she had to deal with this the only way she knew how.

She took control of her body, just enough to focus on her hands. Directing them to her purse, she scrambled through the contents. She grew desperate and tossed the contents across the hall, an umbrella here, a bobby pin there. Finally, her hands clasped around the cool metal she had come to find comfort in. She opened the lid of her old mint container.

Amy took them all out—one, two, three, four, five—and lined them up in a row on the tiles. She closed her eyes and picked one, then sat in a position that she was all too familiar with. Back against the wall, arms propped. She could feel the distance between her arms shortening, and soon felt the sweet pain burst in her forearm. Oh, yes. It was over too soon, for her, so she made another. This, too, had the same short relief, so rolled over, curling up on the ground, and made another. And another. And another. Each one stinging blissfully, because it allowed her to feel. Her arm dripped the same blood that coated the razorblade. Amy loved the pain of it, because it made her feel something. Each incision felt like victory, because she had found her own way of dealing.

There was blood pooling on the tiles, and Amy had run out of space on my arm. Again. She was just about to start on her thighs when her phone rang. She wasn't going to answer it, but caller ID said it was Rory, and she knew he'd be concerned.

Propping herself back upright, she picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Amy. What's up? And don't feed me any of those 'family emergency' lies, you know I don't buy that crap," he said. Damn it, every time.

"It's nothing." Think, Amy, think. "I just- I just walked past the oncology unit on the way to lunch. Shook me up a bit."

"Oh, alright," he replied cautiously, "as long as you're fine." His concern was almost touching. Almost. "Listen, did you hear about the new nurse in the ER?"

"No?" God, no. No, no, no, no.

"Well, there's a new primary emergency department nurse. Remember how the last one retired to be with his family?" Amy made some conformational noise in response. "Anyway, his name's Doctor John Smith. I know, a doctor as a nurse? Well, he has degrees for both, and absolutely insisted that we call him Doctor. Also, he has the strangest dress sense." You can say that again.

"Right. Well, I have to go now. I'll see you next time I'm in?" She made an effort to end the conversation.

"Of course. Later, Ames." As soon as Rory said that, she disconnected.

Amy knew that she really should have cleaned everything up, but she felt overcome by overwhelming exhaustion. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and fall asleep. So she did.

This chapter was updated on 28/9/16, mainly just changing it from first person to third person POV. I don't know, I just like third person more when writing for Doctor Who.

Thanks all, have a great day.