The months go by, and my visits to Dr. Roberts, though no longer weekly, get worse as they go on. She bombards me with questions about the Doctor, wanting to know everything I do. She's disappointed with how little I know about him, and she keeps asking if he's come back yet. She gets a bit confused when I tell her I've only seen him once.
On my seventh visit, she seems to be very frustrated over the fact that he hasn't come back.

"I don't understand, Amelia," she tells me. "Have you really only seen him once? Just that one night?"MUM"Yes," I confirm. "He came that night in the blue box and he hasn't come back yet."

"But you know he's coming back?"

"Yes, I know he's coming back. He promised," I explain.

"It just doesn't make sense," Dr. Roberts says. She says it so quietly that I think she was saying it more to herself than to me.

"He said he'd be five minutes." I've never said this to her before, but it has been building up inside me and I need to let it out.

"You haven't told me that before," she says. I ignore the statement.

"Five minutes, he said. Where is he? Why did he go?" I can hear the sadness in my voice. I don't realise I'm crying until my hand automatically wipes the tears from my face. Dr. Roberts takes a tissue from her desk and hands it to me awkwardly.

"Thank you," I say, taking it and drying my face.

"You can go now, Amelia. Maybe your Auntie will get you a treat on the way home," she says, smiling gently. It's clear that she's trying to make me feel better, but it doesn't help.

"Maybe," I reply quietly. I know my Aunt won't get me anything.

I leave the office and meet my Aunt in the waiting room, as usual. Even now, when it's obvious I've been crying, she doesn't say a word to me. I didn't expect her to, but it's still upsetting to have my expectations met.

Halfway to our house, I decide I really don't want to go home and be alone in my room all afternoon.

"Can you take me to Rory's house?" I ask her quietly. She looks at me, surprised that I spoke at all.

"I don't know, you shouldn't really just barge in when you haven't been invited over," she answers, frowning.

"Mrs. Williams said it's okay. She said I can come over whenever I want to, because I'm like family," I say desperately. All of it is true, of course. I don't like lying, not even to my Aunt Sharon.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am. Please, please take me to Rory's," I beg.

"Alright then," she sighs. She takes the next left and we're on our way to the Williams' house.

I jump out of the car as soon as we arrive.

"I'll be back at seven to pick you up," my aunt says, disinterested.

"Ok," I reply. I shut the car door and go to ring the doorbell. Mr. Williams answers the door.

"Hello, Amelia!" he greets me cheerfully. He must notice that I've been crying, then, because he asks if I'm alright.

"I'm okay," I tell him. "I just want to play with Rory."

"He's in his room," Mr. Williams informs me. I thank him and run up the stairs.

Rory is sitting on his bed, reading a book when I come into the room.

"Hi!" he says. Then he sees my face. "What's wrong?" I sit beside him before I reply.

"He said he'd be five minutes, Rory. Where is he?" I struggle not to cry again. I haven't had the chance to be upset about it before.

"I don't know where he is, but he said he'd be back. That's the important part." Rory was a naturally comforting person, but the tears started again, anyway.

"I just want to have a real life adventure, and he's supposed to be back by now," I mumble sadly.

"It's okay. It will all be okay," he reassures me. We sit in silence for a few moments, and he lets me cry.

That's the first time Rory Williams holds my hand.

I'm surprised, at first, when his warm fingers lace through mine, which are wet from wiping my tears away. I suddenly feel too shy to look up at him, but I know that if I did, he'd be blushing. That's just Rory's way. Neither of us speak, and we sit there for a long while. I stop crying at some point. He squeezes my hand gently, and I finally look up at him. He's wearing a small smile, and I feel one spreading across my own face. We go downstairs, then, so we can play in the garden. Rory still doesn't let go of my hand.