Amy.
Mad, impossible, Amy Pond.
The Doctor couldn't quite believe what had come over her.
One minute she was showing him her engagement ring and talking about comfort, the next she was pushing him up against the TARDIS, making him forget everything he'd ever known.
He had to admit, at one point or another, he supposed, that it hadn't been half bad.
No. No, No, No.
He was the Doctor, for god's sake! He was 907 years old and it would never work.
To a degree, he felt cheated.
She couldn't get away with doing that and expect him to just forget about it! In fact, he wasn't going to let her get away with it.
The next time she came bowling through the TARDIS to the control room, he'd give her a piece of his mind. Yes, he decided, he'd tell her that she needed to go home right now, and he meant it because he couldn't have a 21 year old ginger bucket of hormones running around, kissing him at every opportunity. He had places to go and people to save, and he didn't have time to bloody loose his senses every time she flicked her hair or smiled or...okay he was getting off track now.
The point was, Amy Pond was going home so he could live out the rest of the time not worrying about the gaping holes in his hearts or the tugging pain in his chest or
"Doctor?"
"Yes Amy?"
"Where are we going?"
"Oh, I thought we could go to..."
