It's been six years, and trust me, a lot can happen in six years. You can switch football teams in six years (because frankly, Manchester sucks), you can fall in love with three different women, in six years, and you can be even more bitter than your 87-year-old grandfather, in six years. I went into the old pub me and...Rory used to hang out in. It was all completely the same, except for the new bartender. I couldn't dare to return here after what happened with...well, with Amy. I sat in the same exact booth I sat in last time I was here, with Amy and with Rory, flashbacks kept returning of that dreadful night. I don't know why I decided to come back here, I don't even know why I decided to love Amelia Pond even though I knew it was going to end up badly, I don't even know why I decided to trust Rory Williams with my girlfriend who happened to be his ex-girlfriend alone. I guess I'm a masochistic bastard. I asked for whiskey. The one she drank...hell, if I'm going to be masochistic about a woman who completely shattered my heart, I should be damn good at it, and I was. I took a sip from the whiskey and stared at a framed picture of Elvis Presley, wondering how that son of a bitch felt when his wife was cheating on him with his body guard...probably like shit, considering that's how I felt, and can't believe that somewhere deep inside me...still do. By the third whiskey (which still tasted like piss, but I drank it anyway), I heard a very familiar voice behind laughing and talking with the bartender...a very, very, very familiar voice...with a very, very, very familiar Scottish accent...I need to stop drinking. You know what? I'm not even going to look back, nope. If it's not her, I'll be dissappointed, if it is her, I'll still be dissappointed. So what's the point? Then again, if I'm going to be masochistic... I turned around, and there she was, as perfect as ever, smiling like she wouldn't hurt a goddamn fly. She was wearing a beige trenchcoat, some sort of black dress, and black high heels, her hair tied up in a bun. I guess I stared too much, because she turned around, and as soon as she noticed who I was, she stopped smiling and she gave me a sympathetic look. Amy Pond stood up and sat on the same booth as me, but on the opposite side, still not smiling, cold as bloody ever but somehow managing to act like she gave a damn. "John...Hi." And with that, the corners of her mouth turned her lips into a smile, her hazel eyes looking right through me. She reached out and placed her hands in mine, which were apparently stretched out...or maybe she got them and held them just because she felt like it...I don't know, she is way too distracting. "I'm sorry...and I know it's been six years and I know it was a huge fuck-up but I still feel like crap for leaving you without a trace..." She went on for about two hours about 'life after me' as she put it, but so you don't sit here for two hours, I'm going to give you the quick results; Rory apparently wasn't who she thought he was, they got into too much fighting. They somehow managed to get married. They've got a son together. They've been divorced for 3 years now. Her son's name is John. "John...one more thing...the reason me and Rory got divorced-" I tilted my head, "yeah, because you got into too many arguments?" She sighed, "well, besides that. Um, how do I put this?" A pause. "John Williams is your son." Holy. Fucking. Shit. This is going by way too fast...