Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.


In 2007, on the first proper day of winter, someone stole Amy Pond's shoes. Her red ones.

For as long as Rory could remember, there had been a pair of red shoes in Amy's house (the exact shade, type and location varied greatly, though). She had stepped out of her trainers and into red wellies the first time Rory had agreed to play Raggedy Doctor with her, and red shoes had been a standard feature in the game ever since. The stories Amy used to make up while wearing red shoes. The stories she used to make up aboutred shoes. He could listen to her for hours.

At age 18, Amy didn't make believe, no longer talked about Doctors and blue boxes; and her eyes were all the duller for it. But she still had red shoes, and she (and this was more important) used them.

Except now they were stolen.


"Who steals a pair of shoes from the hospital stairs? In Leadworth?" Amy looked down at her stripy socks, wiggled her toes. Giggled.

"Why," said Rory, "did you leave your shoes here?" He could feel how cold the stone steps were throughthe soles of his own shoes, but Amy was stoic in her socks.

"I like the corridors. They're slide-y."

He sighed; that was as much of an answer as he was going to get from her. "That's dangerous, you know." He stepped out of his trainers, used an already-cold toe to push them over to Amy. "I'll get my work shoes."


Amy's red boots were on Rory's doorstep. A bit scuffed and dirty (they always were, to be fair), but placed meticulously neatly.

Amy stomped over (in Rory's trainers, exhaling clouds of smoke) and picked them up, stared at them. She ran a thumb along a sole, came away with some oddly shimmering dirt.

"What is that?" asked Rory, peering at the dirt. "Glitter? Someone's hilarious."

"Glitter?" She raised an eyebrow, laid the sarcasm on thickly. "You never know, it might be alien dust."

"Amy..."

"Dust from another world!" Her voice caught on something desperately raw; something in the last word. Deep-seated anger in her eyes, she clutched at the boots, digging her nails into the faux-leather.

Rory swallowed his own anger. He planned on asking her if she had any idea who the thief could be, but what came out was, "So, what sort of world do you think would have dust like that?"

After a moment of evident confusion, Amy's eyes brightened and she smiled, lightning-fast. "Make me cocoa and I'll tell you."


Nowhere, nowhen, on the topic of 'favourite shoes', a slightly older Amy Pond told the Doctor this story. "We never found out who took them." She paused. "There could've been actual other planet dust on them now, if you'd let me pack..."

"Oh, Pond," said the Doctor, quietly. "I'll get you your shoes."


the end.