Flawed Design

By Any Unborn Child

Change was imminent in this world, as well as the worlds beyond the galaxies.

If it were two individuals who believed this fully, it would be the Doctor and Amy Pond.

The Doctor, who himself had changed and regenerated into many people, many people who carried different variants, different versions of a similar soul. That similar soul had many nuances, new changes according to the time that it had fallen into, stumbled upon, fell on, etc. The soul would deliver similar messages, and defend those who were not able to despite their own personal judgments, but the companions and the people that the soul, ever in a state of adjustment to its new host, would change, would vary from each world.

Amy Pond had changed too. Ever since she had first met the Doctor, once twelve years ago, and again so recently, she could tell that she had been changed by him. His very impact on her life had created a fold in her, a crease in which was never to be erased, dog-earred by time and by expectation, the waiting that she subconsciously scurried through, hoping, wishing, perhaps to just see a glance, a beckon of the man, the strange and eccentric person that she had met so long ago.

So it was true – in both of their cases.

Such was in flux…

…and nothing stood still.

Flux was all that was constant.