This is just a random one shot that came into my head last night.
Disclaimer; I do not own Doctor Who, much as I wish otherwise. If I did, the Master would be a companion, Doctor Number Six would never have happened, and Jack and Ianto would turn up every few episodes. Also, Donna would only be on temporary leave from the crew. So, you see, I don't own the show. *cries in corner*
"Twelve Years And Four Psychiatrists."
"I kept biting them"
"They said you weren't real."
Amelia Pond was twelve years old when her aunt Sharon took her to the first psychiatrist.
Mrs Swanson was tall and severe looking, with steel-gray hair that was always tied up in a bun, glasses that made her ice-blue eyes appear scarily large, and conservative grey clothing.
Amelia thought she looked like the evil nanny from hell.
"Now, Amelia, it says here that you continue to believe in your imaginary friend. Can you explain why?" she asked.
Amelia knew this woman wouldn't believe her; no one, not even Rory, her best friend, really believed her, but she stuck to the truth any way.
After three weeks of being told that her Raggedy Doctor didn't exist, Amelia bit her.
She never went back to see Mrs Swanson.
Aunt Sharon waited for six months before sending Amelia to Dr Winfield.
He was in his mid-forties, slightly balding, with a large waistline, and no fashion sense. Compared to Mrs Swanson, he was rather understanding, yet still insistent that time travel and aliens didn't exist, so after four months of the almost thirteen year old Scot insisting her Raggedy Doctor did exist, she gave up on trying to convince him, and bit him too.
She never returned for another session.
Two years passed, and the fifteen (nearly sixteen) year old Amelia became slightly bitter as her imaginary friend never showed up. She changed her name to Amy, but despite the teasing of her peers, and complete dismissal from the adults, she continued to hope that the Doctor would return.
Aunt Sharon forced her to see Mr Cole, a charismatic young man in his late twenties. Again, she absolutely refused to believe that the Doctor didn't exist, even as Mr Cole refused to believe that he did.
Six months of flirting and arguing later, she bit him as well. He refused to see her again.
She didn't care.
Psychiatrist number four, a young woman, barely even graduated, only lasted four sessions. The now sixteen-and-three-quarters year old Amy took an instant dislike to Ms "Call me Stacey" Robins.
In the fifth session, Amy got fed up with the young woman's inane chattering and suppostitions about why she made up a time-travelling alien as her imaginary friend, and bit her to shut her up.
Once again, she was psychiatrist-less.
She couldn't be happier, especially when her aunt cornered her and shouted that she may as well stop wasting good money on her when she obviously didn't want to be helped, though she did wish that Aunt Sharon had come to the conclusion earlier.
When the Doctor reappeared after twelve years of absence, she was actually a little shocked. Despite her constant reassurances over the years, she had stopped believing he really existed.
He had become a story inside her head, an imaginary friend she never forgot but didn't actually believe existed anymore, no matter what she said otherwise.
And maybe the psychiatrists would have had a field day with it, but she didn't care. She had forgotten nearly everything about him; what he looked like, sounded like, walked like. That scared her.
So when he turned up at her house in the middle of the day, rushed inside without an invitation and started banging on one of the doors and yelling, she did the thing any young woman living alone would do if a stranger turned up at her house and somehow got inside.
She hit him with a cricket bat.
Authors Note; Hey, hope you enjoyed this story, it's very random. It hasn't been edited; no betareader, and I don't like anyone I know personally reading my work.
Please review, because reviews are love.