Amy Pond's story started at the crack of dawn.
It was a cloudy and humid Thursday. The rain pelted noisily against her bedroom window; the blue drapes barely drawn over to block out the sporadic flashes of lightning.
The bedspread laid in a jumbled heap across the dark wooden floor. A purple fan whirled lazily from its place on the nightstand.
Beside it stood a clumsy handmade frame, which held a picture of a younger Amy and her friend Rory at the girl's seventh birthday party. Adjacent to the frame was an alarm clock dating from the mid '80s. Its ragged corners were mended with heavy tape from all the falls it had suffered. A large gash covered the top-half of the screen. The number panels suddenly flickered and music started to blare loudly from the crackling speakers. 7:00 AM.
Amy awoke abruptly. Grumbling, she wrenched the pillow off her head and rolled over on her stomach.
Her hand shot out blindly to feel the nightstand. Amy's clumsy fingers knocked over the picture frame. It toppled to the ground in an ear splinting crash. Amy groaned and struggled for another moment until she finally located the alarm clock and jammed her finger down on the snooze button.
The music stopped. She sighs in relief and rolls over to face the wall. Amy fluffs up her pillow and closes her heavy eyelids. A faint smile plays on her lips. Oh how she wishes she to stay curled up in bed all day...
Amy adjusts her position so that her bare legs felt the cool spots on her sheets. She nudged her toes under the remaining duvet hanging off the side of her bed. Perfect.
In spite of the faint light issuing from the window, Amy quickly fell into a dreamless sleep.
Inside the TARDIS it was pure chaos.
Despite the fact that he had regained control of his beloved ship, the Doctor was still being tossed from side to side like a rag doll, and the outpouring of new information from his regeneration was still distracting him from the task at hand.
However, the promise he had made to little Amelia Pond just minutes ago fuelled his determination to carry on.
The TARDIS suddenly jerked violently and the Doctor flew backwards into the railing. It took the Time Lord a second to regain his thoughts, however, when he does, the Doctor quickly untangled himself and scrambled to his feet.
He ran to the controls when the TARDIS jerked again. He stumbled backwards and grabs onto the railing with both hands. There was this mad look about him.
Was he mad? Of course not, he was brilliant! But he wasn't going to let a series of distractions and a few cuts and bruises interfere with his promise.
Just as the jerking subsided to an acceptable level (which would have made anyone else hold on to something for dear life), the Doctor launched for the controls. He held onto a lever to stay in place and feverishly entered a series of numbers into a keyboard.
Holding on the controls for support, he made his way to the other side and slammed his fist down on a large button. The TARDIS suddenly erupted into a chorus of colours and sounds. The Doctor's eyes lit up in childlike wonder and he laughed.
He pumped his fist in the air and rushed down the metal stairs. The TARDIS was still swaying from side to side.
The Doctor spotted his sonic screwdriver skidding across the grid floor from the sudden shift in gravity. He ran towards the sonic screwdriver and made a grab for it.
He swiftly scrambled to his feet and brandished the sonic screwdriver over his head, a large smile plastered on his face.
"Hold on tight Amelia Pond, I'm coming for you!"
The alarm clock read 8 o'clock.
Snoring loudly, Amy rolled over on her back. Her hand knocked against the nightstand. She moaned and attempted to pull it back. She was on the brink of waking up. But the action ceased as soon as it started and Amy's hand stayed where it was.
Her fingertips grazed the ground between the nightstand and the bed. They touched the glass fragments scattered there.
She frowned in her sleep. Her thoughts were nothing but a jumbled mess, but even in her sleep-like state she knew something was wrong. It was bothering her. While her mind fought to pull itself together, it suddenly came to her.
Something lurched in the pit of her stomach. Amy's eyes wrenched open in alert and she fought to keep them open as she pulled herself up. Everything was coming back to her now.
Amy clumsily climbed out of bed. Her right foot landed on a shard of glass and it cracked under the pressure. Amy yelped in pain and instinctively grabbed her injured foot.
She bounced up and down for a few seconds before falling back onto her bed. Muttering to herself, she sat in an upright position and pulled her foot up in a strangled hold. She breathed in deeply for a moment, waiting until she calmed down and her heart slowed down to a decent pace.
She reached for a tissue on the nightstand and dabbed at the small cut on her heel. Her heart sunk momentarily when she imaged recovering the broken frame from where it had fell. Amy had wanted to give it to Rory as a gift.
She wiped off the small amount of blood that had gotten on her hand and flitted to the bathroom in order to apply a band-aid and take a quick shower.
She wobbled back to her bedroom ten minutes later. Amy rubbed her eyes tiredly and sighed. Couldn't it have been any other day than today? Amy felt as thought Lady Luck was mocking her. Probably she was.
Without a moment to spare, Amy walked over to her closet and hastily slipped on her uniform. A shrill ring tone started playing somewhere downstairs.
That must be Rory asking about my whereabouts, she told herself.
Amy fumed to button her blouse as she clambered down the staircase. She found her mobile on a pile of knitting magazines by the toaster.
"Hello?" she answered breathlessly; holding up the phone in the crook of her shoulder.
"Amy, where are you?" Rory's voice was panicked.
"Sorry, sorry! I just woke up!" Amy switched the phone to her other shoulder and hastily poured herself a glass of milk.
Rory sighed, mumbling; "Class is starting in fifteen minutes."
Amy rolled her eyes, "Go go on without me then."
"But you can't miss school, Amy!"
Amy slammed her glass down on the counter. "I know and I'm sorry. Really, I am. But the thing is that it's raining outside and walking there will taker longer than I expected."
"You want me to pick me up, don't you?" Rory muttered.
Rory took a deep breathe. "But... I... I think that could work."
"Great," Amy answered in relief. "How long should I wait for you then?"
"I will be there in about five minutes."
Amy suddenly froze in place. She felt the oddest sensation of déjà vu.
"Do you promise?" her voice whispered in the receiver. "Promise me you will be there in five minutes."
A deep silence followed. "Amy, are you alright?"
She started to mumble something, but then realized how irrational she was being. Of course Rory would be there in time. This was Rory after all.
Amy laughed nervously and brushed a strand of red hair out of her face.
"I'm fine, it's just... I haven't slept well." Again, Rory hesitated on the other end.
"Are you sure?"
Amy shook her head and gulped down the rest of her glass before speaking.
"Oh no," she said. "Really, I'm fine – bad night is all."
"Okay, I'm leaving now. See you in five minutes Amy."
She swallowed hard. "See you in five minutes."
She hung up and placed the phone in her bag. She breathed in deeply, relieved that she had spared herself the humiliation of arriving at school drenched from head to toe. Now all she needed to worry about was waiting.
Amy strolled over to the entrance and faced the mirror hanging there. She pulled her damp, dishevelled red hair into a tall ponytail. Amy stared at her somber expression; chewing her lower lip nervously.
Stop fretting Amy, she scowled herself. You're going to make it worse. Nothing bad is going to happen.
Content, Amy walked over to the entrance and shrugged on her coat and shoes. Outside, she ducked her head from the rain and shook open her umbrella.
Amy barrelled down the wet cobblestone path. It was still raining heavily. She unlocked the front gate and walked onto the sidewalk. Amy shut the gate behind her and rested her back against the stone wall.
Two minutes passed. Uncomfortable and impatient, Amy started shuffled her feet. She didn't like to be standing there. Her green eyes trailed along the deserted street.
Waiting had always been distressing for her. Every time she had to wait long periods on her own, Amy's heart would start to race, her thoughts swirled dangerously from one horrible theory to another...
Amy composed herself and tried to think about something else. Something blue. Amy squeezed her eyes shut for a second and shook her head. She felt something prickling at the back of her head. The Doctor's far-away voice echoed in her head.
"Give me five minutes and I'll be right back."
No. Don't think about it, it will only hurt more.
Amy fixed her eyes on where Rory's car would eventually pull over.
Breathe in Amy, breathe. Everything is going to be fine.
She switched the umbrella to her other hand and wiped her sweaty palm over her coat. She heard an odd rumbling sound... Or was it a siren?
Heart racing, she stretched up on her toes in hopes to see Rory's car coming from a distance. A tall shrub obscured her vision, so she stepped aside and leaned over the sidewalk. Complete stillness.
Frowning, Amy stepped back. She concentrated on the noise she had heard, but soon realized it had stopped. Amy snickered in disbelief. It was raining so heavily that the sound could have been anything! Silly Amy.
She straightened up and held the umbrella tightly.
There was a loud slamming noise and she reflexively twirled around, her eyes wide as dinner plates.
What she saw there made her mind reel. She yelled and staggered back.
A large blue box had appeared next to the shed! But it wasn't any blue box – it was the blue box.
It couldn't be possible – it couldn't be, yet it was still there.
Amy's mouth hung open in shock and she stumbled further down the road.
Oh dear, oh my, oh dear, oh God, I'm mad, most certainly mad, I'm madder than mad – I'm completely mad!
A man's face suddenly appeared on the other side of the brick wall. His brown hair stuck out at the oddest angles and his eyebrows were set up on the highest point on his forehead.
Amy gasped. The man – though Amy immediately perceived him more as an outgrown child – tilted his head to the side. His gazed at her dubiously.
"I'm sorry, but have you by any chance seen a girl named Amelia Pond?"
SUPER IMPORTANT A/N: Last year (around May/June) I published the same story under the name Under the Last Star Fades to Black. However, after four chapters I found that it didn't make much sense and I took it down in early December. I found inspiration for the story after watching the Christmas special, so I decided to edit it and upload it once again under a different name (being Remember Me?). I just wanted to make things clear in case someone happened to have read the same thing last year.