Word Count: 544
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Note: I just needed to write one last thing before the new season started.
She could have run off with the Doctor when she was nineteen-years-old. You know, back when she was too young to be thinking about rubbish grown up things like marriage, but still old enough to see all of time and space. When there weren't words like fiancés and engagements to guilt her or stop her from doing the things she wanted. She could have wandered the universe as free as a bird. Just Amy and the Doctor and the days that never came.
Back then she would have given her entire life to him without a second thought.
She could have married him. Not intentionally, because that's not how things work with the Doctor, but accidentally. They could have landed on some strange planet he didn't actually know that much about, but he decided was safe enough for their daily adventure. They could have gotten mixed up in some strange ritual – like dancing or laughing or hugging or something ridiculous like that – which turned out to be a marriage ceremony there. He would have blushed and turned red and flustered on about how it was all a misunderstanding.
Amy would have just laughed, kissed him right on the mouth, and congratulated him on becoming Mr Pond.
She could have made him fall in love with her. Well, more so than he already is. You see, she could have never told him about Rory and let him think she spent her entire life waiting for him. She would have let him get closer and closer to her until there was no turning back. Until he couldn't even begin to imagine what his life would have been like without her. Until every last one of his stupid thoughts came back to her. Until nothing in this big old universe matter more than her being by his side.
Until he would feel the way she always has.
She could have been someone else. Someone who was still ginger and Amy and somehow still Scottish, but not nearly so… delicate. She could have been born someone who was built to travel the universe with him. Someone who wasn't so weak or soft or fragile. She could have been born on Gallifrey or Apalapucia or any other planet that didn't have such a ridiculously short lifespan. She could have been born someone who wasn't human. Someone could live as long as him.
Someone who could travel with him forever.
She could have walked away. She could have told him no on the night before her wedding, meant it when she said to take him home after her first encounter with the Angels, walked out of the TARDIS the first time Rory died. She could have just said goodbye on the night of her wedding, let the Doctor take her home like he threatened in America, she could have taken Mels home to Leadworth after Berlin. She should have said goodbye once and for all the day he left her and Rory in front of their new house, and just been satisfied with her big, scary domestic adventure. But she isn't and she never will be.
Because no matter what happens – no matter the coulda, shoulda, woulda – she will always come running when he calls.