Note: So here is Chapter One. Hopefully I do the greatness that is Doctor Who justice. The story itself is supposed to be set before anything has happened. So Amy has met the Doctor when she was little but has not seen him since. It's kind of like my own interpretation of the first episode. Thanks for reading and please review to let me know if I should update!

Amelia Pond lay beneath the oak tree and watched the sunlight turn each individual leaf into a single strand of gold. Rory sat beside her, though somehow he could not have seemed further away. There was a book in his hands and he seemed completely lost in the words it contained.

"Rory."
"Hmmm?" He glanced momentarily in her direction before his eyes once again found the pages of his book.
Amy sighed heavily, his oblivion igniting a spark of irritance within her. "It's twelve o'clock, Rory, you've been reading for hours. Aren't you bored?"
Rory shook his head and, as if to prove his point further, turned a page. "How could you ever get bored of reading?" He asked, genuinely baffled. "Books are wonderful."
Amy rolled her eyes. "I acknowledge the greatness of books, Rory, I just don't wish to spend hours sitting around reading them all day while the rest of the world goes by."
He uttered a response in the form of a grunt and continued to read. Amy sighed again and, despite aware of the fact he was most probably too lost in his own thoughts to listen, continued to speak.
"I'm so tired of watching the world live and not living." She murmured. "I want to experience something; I want an adventure."
Rory chuckled under his breath. "Amy, I adore books as much as the next person but I think we can both agree that the 'adventures' they contain should remain firmly inside of them."
"Adventures don't have to be trapped inside books."
Rory shook his head and this action alone only succeeded in lighting the spark within her even more. "I don't think so, Amy." He said, softly. "Sometimes, however much we wish to venture elsewhere, the only option we have is to live in reality."
"Live in reality?" Amy shook her head angrily. "Unlike you, Rory, I don't think I can spend the rest of my life in Leadworth with an undignified career and no sense of fulfillment."
She got up from where she had been lying and began to walk somewhere. Anywhere. Rory, finally distracted from the pages of his book, quickly followed.
"No sense of fulfillment?" He found himself having to jog to keep up with her. "What's that supposed to mean? And what exactly is wrong with Leadworth?"
"It's boring, Rory." She answered, without bothering to turn around.
"Undignified career?" He frowned, still struggling to maintain her fast pace. "It's a perfectly noble profession."
Suddenly and finally, she turned to face him. Rory was thankful, stopping shortly and taking the opportunity to catch his breath.
"I'm a kissogram, Rory." A few strands of her hair got caught in the wind as she spoke, as if to emphasise her frustration further.
"I like your job." He said, a touch of hurt prominent in his voice.
"Why on earth would you like it?" Amy snapped, impatiently. "I get paid to kiss people other than you; any normal person would be jealous."
"It's quirky." Rory answered. "It suits you."
Amy exhaled heavily, draining her lungs of air, and then began to walk very quickly again. She was aware that she was being cruel to Rory. It wasn't fair - after all, it wasn't his fault that she had become so bored of her life. He was Rory and he was lovely and she was in love with him and that was supposed to be their life together but she couldn't contain the overwhelming sense of longing that crept over her heart on days like these. She longed to get lost in a different world and explore but mostly, above everything else, she just wanted to escape.
"Amy, should I leave you alone?" Rory called after her, becoming little more than a blurred figure in the distance. It seemed her fast walking pace finally had succeeded in distancing herself from him completely. "I can leave you alone for a while, if that's what you want."
Amy did not reply. Her eyes were elsewhere; attention lost entirely to the sky above. A shadow had crossed the sun momentarily. The world had darkened and then restored its light almost immediately. To any average person, this sight would probably have been missed. But Amy saw it. And then she saw it again. This time, as the world was bathed in darkness for just a fleeting second, a cloud above became illuminated by blue light.
"That's not possible..." She whispered, but her words got lost in the wind.
The sky darkened and the air became cold, so cold that her breath escaped her lungs in gasps of smoke. A single fragment of lightening broke through the ink canvas of the sky. Amy turned but found nobody in sight. Even Rory was nowhere to be seen. He must have given up calling her and returned home. She felt her heart fall. Another bolt of lightening broke through the clouds. Amy could no longer breathe. It was as if all the air had suddenly been knocked out of her lungs. And then it appeared. It was like nothing she had even seen before, but perhaps she only thing she could possibly have compared it to was the sight of light shining through rain. Distant and blurred and distorted, but undeniably visible. It was dark and shadowed but falling closer to earth every second. She wondered if it was a star that had fallen to earth. Or perhaps a comet. Perhaps this was the end of the world. Amy bit her lip. She had wished for an adventure...but this was simply the end.
"I'm sorry, Rory." She whispered under her breath, as the comet approached. "I...I..."
Amy did not get the chance to speak again. Any possible words she might have been able to utter were lost to the sudden trembling shudder of the ground beneath her feet. Losing her balance she fell, and could only watch in horror as the comet burst into flames as it hit the ground. She was going to die, she was sure of it. Any moment now...this was, no doubt, the end.
Only, it wasn't. When the ground finally ceased to shake and the air grew still and Amy became aware of the rhythm of her own breath again, she opened her eyes cautiously. She expected to find the earth in tatters; the sky to be a crescendo of colour and the world around her to be in a state of apolocolyptic destruction but instead all she could see was smoke. Curiosity stifling her disorientation, she shakily brought herself to her feet and tried to make sense out of the fog that now infiltrated the air. Through it, she could just about make out the flicker of amber light. Fire. And the smell of burnt smoke; the kind of Autumn scent that comforted her, reminded her of bonfires.
"Blimey!"
Amy's heart froze. Was that really a voice she had heard emerging from the depths of the fog? Surely not. Perhaps she really had died and the world had shaken her into a permanant dream where everything felt real and everything looked real but nothing actually was real. Perhaps...
"Hello? Anyone there?"
Amy wasn't imagining. Or dreaming. She shook her head, as if to shake the madness out of her thoughts, but the voice continued to echo through the air. From the thick smoke that permeated the air emerged a shadowed figure, obscured almost entirely by darkness. Amy inhaled sharply, turning momentarily to find something to protect herself - anything at all - but found nothing. She realised that she voice had stopped calling and turned slowly, her heart quivering.
"Ah, yes. You. You'll do nicely."
The shadowed figure was not in fact a figment of her imagination, but a person. A man. A strange man. Amy frowned. She was quite unlike what she had been expecting...though what she had been expecting exactly she was not entirely sure of. He wore a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches and a checked shirt with...was that a bow tie? His hair was messy and unkempt, dark brown in colour, as if he had been continuously raking his hands through it. He was certainly an odd looking man and appeared to be smiling at her, as if greeting an old friend.
"I'm sorry," Amy shook her head, almost feeling disorientated. "Did you just...fall from the sky?"
The man paused for a moment, glanced behind him, and then promptly nodded. "Yes, yes I believe I did."
The thick smoke was beginning to fade into the cold air. Amy looked past the strange man to what lay beyond him. Standing amongst the mist was a police box, the kind of old police box you might find in an old black and white film. When she inspected it more closely, she saw that its paint was peeling. Amy closed her eyes for a moment, as if to collect her thoughts. No, she thought, it can't be. It can't possibly be.
"Well," He said, following her bewildered gaze. "My box fell from the sky."
"Box?" Amy questioned, feeling faint.
"TARDIS." He corrected himself. "Anyway, if you wouldn't mind, I do require some assistance."
"Assistance?"
"Yes, assistance." The corners of his mouth turned up into a half-smile. "Do you always repeat words?"
Amy shook her head, still too shocked to fathom full sentences.
"Well, come along then, Pond." The odd man turned and disappeared into the fog, though this voice echoed behind him. "We need to get going."
"Pond?" She knew now that she had no choice but to follow him. The fog caused her to choke slightly but soon enough she emerged, finding herself standing directly in front of the mysterious police box and the raggedy man that had fallen from the sky.
"There you are," The man smiled, knowingly. "You're doing it again."
"I don't think, considering the circumstances, you can really blame me." Amy snapped, a spark of irritance overwhelming her fear.
"Circumstances?" He raised an eyebrow. Amy resisted the urge to triumphantly inform him that he had done exactly the same as she had.
"Yes, circumstances." She said, impatiently. "You fall from the sky in your...your strange little box and then tell me that you 'require my assistance'."
"Strange little box?" He draped an arm around the police box. "This, my friend, is not just a box. It's a TARDIS and it has ears; it can hear you insulting it."
Amy snorted. "I highly doubt that."
He glared at her, pouted, and traced the wood with his fingertips protectively. "Don't listen to her, gorgeous; you have many fine qualities."
Amy stared at him in disbelief. "Who are you?"
The man stared at her and Amy could not help but notice the unmistakable hurt that flooded through his eyes.
"You..." His brow furrowed. "You don't remember me?"
She bit her lip and stared down at the floor, anywhere to avoid the sadness in his eyes. "I don't want to remember you."
"Why on earth would you say a thing like that?" His voice was tinted with pain, as if her words physically bruised him.
"Because it's true," She cried. "I can't remember you. I can't believe in you again. I...I just can't."
"You don't believe in me?" He spoke very quietly, as if he hoped that the words themselves would simply evaporate into the air completely.
"No," Amy whispered, though her words were worn with pretence. "I don't."
The strange raggedy man straightened himself, adjusted his bow-tie, and took a deep breath before exhaling heavily. She watched him, unable to contain her concern.
"Are you...alright?" She asked.
He smiled at her, but it was a ghost of the smile he had given her earlier. This smile was weary with sadness and disappointment. It masked his despair.
"I'm wonderful," He said, a little too brightly. "Just wonderful."
He turned and walked to the box he had called the 'TARDIS' - Amy was still unaware of what exactly the letters stood for. The doors were flung open and suddenly, though she could not determine her feelings at all, Amy felt a strong sense of overwhelming desperation that clutched her heart.
"Where are you going?" She called after him, her voice betraying a tone of urgency.
"Back." The man answered, simply, without turning back.
"You...you don't have to go." Amy murmured, her words sounding weak even to her own ears.
"I should though." He said and, finally, turned to meet her gaze again. This time, he smiled; a wistful smile. "Goodbye again, Amelia Pond."
Before Amy could speak, the doors had slammed shut. A strange sound filled the air, grating and impossible to ignore though almost melodic as its volume began to slowly decrease. With horror, she realised that the paint was slowly beginning to lighten; the lights beginning to blur; the box itself beginning to fade away.
"No!" She cried, though she already knew her words were useless. As she watched the box fade away completely into the darkness of the grey sky, all she could do was whisper: "Don't leave me again."