It was the sixty-third day since five minutes. Amelia was counting. She would cross off the days on her calendar with an orange marker-pen which was almost as orange as her hair. It had become something like a ritual to her. The first thing she would do when she opened her eyes each morning would grab her orange marker-pen and cross off the days in the hope that her Raggedy Doctor would come back for her.
It was the sixty-third day since five minutes, and Aunt Sharon had hit her again. Amelia stumbled backwards, her face smarting. She could already feel the bruise forming. She couldn't help it: tears began to fall from her large blue eyes as she looked up in utter fear at the face of her aunt, who to seven-year-old Amelia looked like those terrifyingly beautiful witches in the videos she'd watch: the pale, angular face, the thin lips twisted into a sneer, the small eyes filled with nothing but contempt.
Amelia's hands rose to protect herself in fear that Sharon would deliver another blow. In that moment, only one thought crossed Amelia's mind, as if it was written in thick black marker on the inside of her skull: Please Doctor, save me.
Sharon's hand rose once more to deliver another slap, but as Amelia braced herself for the pain, the hand froze in mid-air as a sound reached her ears: the whirring-scraping-wheezing sound which would come to her in her dreams; the same sound which she had heard on that night sixty-three days ago.
Sharon's hand dropped limply to her side as she turned to the source of the sound. Sure enough, the familiar blue box was beginning to materialise in the lounge room. Amelia's eyes widened, a look of wonderment lighting up her young face. The beginnings of a smile were forming on her lips. Only in her dreams had the Doctor returned for her, and yet, the police-box-time-machine was here, in her living room.
Hardly a second later, the deep-blue-coloured doors opened, and out came the Dcotor, looking just the same as the day he had left, the same knowing smile upon his lips, but his eyes were filled with guilt. Ignoring the woman in the room, the Doctor stepped forward slowly, as if he were approaching a small animal which he did not wish to frighten away. He settled gently on his knees, so as to be slightly below Amelia's eye level.
"Oh, Amelia," said the Doctor softly, his green eyes devoid of the mirth which usually brightened them. "I'm so sorry. So very, very sorry. Amelia Pond, the girl who waited. How long has it been?"
Amelia dropped her gaze from the Doctor's. "Sixty-three days. I was counting."
The Doctor gently stroked the ends of Amelia's fiery red hair, pushing them over her shoulder, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Well, I'm back now. You, Amelia Pond, are coming with me. You don't need to live in this big, old, empty house anymore. I know what you've been putting up with. You deserve so much more; you deserve every star in the sky for how brave you've been for so long."
The Doctor looked up sharply as he heard an incredulous noise across the room. He had temporarily forgotten that they were in the presence of anyone else.
Sharon's eyes were narrow, arms crossed over her chest. "And what gives you the idea that you are going to take Amelia away and fill her head with even more nonsense?"
Noticing that Amelia had shrunk back in fear, the Doctor took her hand, almost a paternal expression upon his face as he gazed down at the little girl, but his eyes hardened as they shifted to her aunt.
"I met Amelia sixty-three days ago," the Doctor began. "She was all alone in a dark, empty house, scared stiff of a crack in her wall. I promised her that I would come back for her. I promised her five minutes." The Doctor's voice took on a quietly dangerous quality as he continued, "It took a bit longer than expected, Sharon, but I've come back for Amelia, and I would really like to know why you've been hitting her."
Sharon remained calm despite the Doctor's threatening demeanour. She stepped forward so that her face was only inches from the Doctor's. Just as quietly and just as dangerously, she replied, "What makes you think I've been hitting my niece, Doctor, is it?"
The Doctor folded his arms across his chest, shifting his weight to one leg. "Well, apart from the fact that Amelia appears to be scared stiff of you, her face is red, her eyes are watering and what else? Oh! A bruise which seems to be roughly the same size and shape as a human female hand is forming on her cheek. I wonder where that could have come from, hm?"
The woman's eyes filled with rage. "Get out," she said. "Go! Take that stupid child with you before I call the police!"
For a moment the Doctor only looked at Sharon, before taking Amelia's hand once more and stepping back inside the TARDIS. He then ran to the console, flicked several switches, the turned his attention back to the little girl who as staring in wonder around her.
A small smile graced the Doctor's lips. "Yes, it's bigger on the inside, but right now, Amelia," he said as he led her to a leather arm chair and gestured for her to sit, "I think you might need a Doctor."
As if by magic, a soft cloth and a bottle of a strange sort of ointment appeared on the console, and taking the supplies, the Doctor squeezed some of the liquid onto the cloth. Then with gentleness which Amelia had not expected, he took her chin in one hand, turning her head to the side to allow him better access to the bruise, and dabbed some of the ointment onto her injury. It was surprising to Amelia how good it felt. It was strangely relaxing, not at all like the horrible stuff they put on your scrapes and cuts at school which stung so badly it made you want to cry even more than the injury itself.
After a moment, the Doctor finished up, but gently cupped her cheek in his hand, gazing at her with compassion in his eyes which Amelia had never seen in anyone before. It was as if without saying a single word, the Doctor was able to understand her pain. In that moment, Amelia recalled what the Doctor had asked her that night, "Am I people?" No, the Doctor was most certainly "people". "People" didn't have the kindness which the Doctor had. "People" didn't understand Amelia like the Doctor did. And "people" most certainly didn't make Amelia feel safe like the Doctor could.
"How about a tour of the TARDIS?" asked the Doctor, reaching out a hand for her to take, wiggling his fingers.
A large smile spread across Amelia's face as she took her Raggedy Doctor's hand.
A note from the author: And so ends my very first Doctor Who fanfiction. This idea has been in mind for a while, but it's only now that I decided to post it here. I really hope you enjoyed it!
I love the interaction between little Amelia and the Doctor in The Eleventh Hour, so it was lovely to write a little 'what if?' scenario.
Please leave me a review and let me know what your thoughts are about my first attempt at writing a Doctor Who fic!
Love,
Lyn