Author's note: This is an AU idea that has been bugging me for a while, but it makes me super sad.
This is my first fanfiction, so please be nice :) I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: none of the characters are mine. They all belong to the BBC.
Rory visited her every day.
He hoped that Amy liked it when he came, but he knew that she was disappointed every time he walked through the door. She was always expecting her imaginary friend to come and take her away. It killed Rory to know that she would prefer for it not to be him who visited.
It started when she was a kid, only 7 years old. She'd make Rory pretend to be her imaginary friend. She was just a kid, after all. Who was going to stop her pretending? Growing up is hard for everyone; everyone wants to believe that someone is going to come in the nighttime and whisk them away to see the universe.
But most people stop believing. They discard their make-belief friends and find joy and hope in real things. Real things. Amy never stopped believing in her imaginary friend. She'd talk about him all the time. When Rory told her that he was in love with her she had smiled and said she loved him too. But she'd stared out of the window all night and waited for the other man to take her away.
Rory began to hate her imaginary friend.
Whenever she talked about the 'raggedy Doctor', he would sigh and listen patiently, knowing that he would never hold her heart wholly, that her imaginary friend was the man she was really in love with.
The wedding had ripped Rory apart.
He'd begun to think that Amy had forgotten about her imaginary friend in all the preparations. He'd thought that now she had him and they would be together, she could finally let go of her childhood fantasies of her imaginary friend.
But she had stood up during her father's speech and called out for her non-existent playmate, shouting that he was late for her wedding. No one came. No one ever came. Not during the nights when she sat by her window, or the early mornings when she waited at the kitchen table with a bowl of custard and a packet of fish fingers. No one had ever come before, and no one ever would.
They had cut the wedding reception off and Rory had taken Amy home. She was angry and crying and shouting for her raggedy Doctor to come for her. He'd sat with her and tried to hold her but she'd pushed him away. She didn't want him. She wanted her imaginary friend.
Downstairs, Amy's mother had been phoning an ambulance. They'd taken Amy to the hospital. She wasn't well, and they didn't think that a normal doctor would be able to fix her.
They took her away and told her that her imaginary friend wasn't real. She believed that they were lying and tried to escape, to get to her Doctor. Her raggedy Doctor.
Rory visited her every day.
He brought blue flowers for her room and talked to her and asked her how she was. She always put the flowers on the windowsill and talked to him and told him she was fine.
He would spend hours with her, they'd playing board games and finishing jigsaw puzzles. When he had to leave he asked the real doctors how she was doing. They told him that she would spend nights looking out of the window and fiddling with the blue flowers. She would spend time in the arts and crafts room trying to find the right shade of blue paint. She would cry herself to sleep and scream for the raggedy Doctor to come for her; to take her away.
Rory would go home to their house and he would cry too. He'd stay up all night and stare out of the window.
He'd hope that maybe the raggedy Doctor would one day come and make Amy better, falling out of the starless sky like she always promised he would.