A/N: I do not own Doctor Who.
It's been six months.
Six months since the day of the moon.
Christmas.
Amy. Your daughter spent a Christmas on Earth alone.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
She's in New York. I tracked her this far.
It hasn't been easy. I had to break some laws. Some Time Lord Laws.
Messing with time is tricky. I wouldn't recommend it. I'm old enough to know better. But I have to find her.
Something's wrong.
I'm forgetting something. It's right in front of me. It's so obvious but I just can't see it.
Someone saw her at a homeless shelter on 63rd a week ago this Tuesday.
Tuesday is fish fingers and custard I'm told. I laugh.
I'm going to find her.
I skip ahead to the following Tuesday.
She's going to be here. I walk into the shelter.
I can't sense her. She's not here.
There's a man sitting against the wall. He's muttering to himself.
I'm about to leave.
I've lost her again. She must have moved on.
I walk past the muttering man on my way back to the Tardis when I here him say something about a glowing girl.
I stop.
I ask him what he saw.
He's afraid. I tell him it's alright. I'm the Doctor.
He's becomes even more afraid. He doesn't want to get locked up with all of the other crazies.
I tell him I'm not that kind of Doctor. He calms.
I ask him again what he saw and this time he tells me.