Coming For To Carry Me Home

Eleven

Disclaimer: I would like to buy these characters but no one will sell them to me.

Author's Note: Many thanks for the follows & the reviews. It always spurs me on to write more! Enjoy…

"So where we going tonight? Your house, mine or the park?" Mels asked as she linked arms with her red-headed best friend and together they strolled out of the school doors. Another day of hell behind them and an evening without adult supervision beckoned.

"Well urm actually…" Amelia began nervously. "I've kinda said that I'll go to Rory's tonight."

"Rory?" Mels repeated in shock.

"Yeah. Well, I mean he is our friend." Amelia replied defensively.

Was he though? They played together, sure, but mostly they played see-how-long-we-can-leave-Rory-before-he'll-notice or let's-try-to-lose-Rory-in-the-park. They often laughed at how needy he was, rolled their eyes at his constant pestering. They made him dress up as the Raggedy Doctor but wouldn't let him in on the real story. She'd never thought he was their friend. He was nice enough, kind and wouldn't hurt a fly. But she'd always thought it was just the two of them against the world.

"Yeah. Yeah, 'course he is." Mels smiled shakily and Amelia let out a sigh of relief.

"I knew you'd understand Mels. You're the best." Amelia hugged her friend tightly before she skipped off to meet the boy who was waiting at the gates for her.

Rory grinned at Amelia and tried to hold her hand clumsily. Amelia laughed and punched him on the arm, telling him not to be such a girl. Mels let out a gasp as she nearly doubled over, trying not to collapse in the playground. That was the last thing she needed. But how did they not see it? Visions flooded her and she wanted to close her eyes to block it out but they were still there, etched onto the inside of her eyeballs. Stuck in her skull. Amelia and Rory. Holding hands. Sitting in a restaurant. At their wedding. Watching TV. Stepping into a blue box. Holding a baby. It was her. That was the picture she'd always had. Then it was gone and the visions kept coming. In a new house, a new place. They were still together. They were older. Then there was a boy. A boy and they were smiling. The boy grew and they got older and older. Happily. Together. A family. She hated them all. And she was nowhere. Nowhere. Nowhere.

The word resounded inside her head as she ran home. Trying not to cry, trying not to throw up. Why was she such a freak? How could she see this, how didn't they know? So he was her father. The father she'd never given a second thought to. Somehow he'd never figured into her plans, she'd always assumed he'd left, or never wanted to know her. It seemed the pattern. No one wanted to know her, no one should. But it was him. It was Rory. Kind, funny, sensitive Rory. No wonder she'd never thought about him, clearly she was nothing like him and never would be. Amelia, at least, understood her. Amelia had her temper and her knack of getting into trouble. Rory was so normal. He didn't know what it was like to have dreams filled with spacemen, to long to run away. To have no family and be all alone. To want to be anywhere but here. He was the kind of boy who would live and die in this small town, never wondering what was beyond its borders. If he ever found out she was his daughter he would be repulsed. He would never want to believe he could make something so broken. That must be why they had the boy. A normal boy and a normal life. She could never fit into that.

She was gasping now, shaking as she tried to fit her key in the lock. The dreams she'd built up, the idea of one day, one far away day, becoming a normal daughter to her mother, lay shattered around her feet. She'd been deluding herself. Of course she had to have a father. And her mother would love him, love him so much more than the daughter she barely knew. She could never have a family. She didn't deserve one.

Inside her flat, her sanctuary, there was a large cardboard box with a note on top. If she'd been thinking about it, if she'd been thinking about anything at all other than her own dire circumstances, she'd have been expecting this. He always sent her things, looked after her when she needed it most. And she'd never needed it more. The one thing she'd been clinging on to, the one dream she'd allowed herself to dream, had been cruelly snatched from under her. She wanted to be excited, to be hopeful that this parcel would take away all the pain, but she couldn't muster any emotion other than despair. Still, she walked up to it and read the note. Because that was what she was supposed to do.

Time can be rewritten.

Tinkering helps.

The Doctor sat alone on his swing under the TARDIS console, fiddling with the wiring. Next to him he watched a projection of the young girl- not really a girl any more, not a child he could sooth with teddy bears and new clothes. Not a child he could impress with witty words. So he'd lied to her. Time could be rewritten, yes. But he knew it wouldn't be. He knew she'd never get what she wanted, never be held by her mother. Never have her father teach her to ride a bike. Never grow up knowing she was safe and loved. It would never be. And then she would lose them again and she wouldn't even be able to cry because she was forced to hold it together for a far more selfish being: for him. But he couldn't tell her this. Not now, when she was so young and there was so much more still to go through, so many more struggles yet to come. She needed something to hold on to.

He watched as she dug through the box- pulling out bits of metal and plastic, different tools she barely knew the name for but could handle like a pro. She built a model airplane that flew in circles around her room, then she built a small metal bird that chirped and a cage for it to sit in. She adjusted them, made them better. She worked until her fingers bled but her tears stopped. And he worked alongside her, fixing bits of the TARDIS, upgrading old software. And they both tried not to think about the things that ran through their heads, all that future and all that pain. The last of the Time Lords and the child of the TARDIS. He'd never fully understood, until now, how very similar they were. How much he understood her plight. And now he'd give everything to be the only one suffering. But he couldn't fix her any more than he could fix himself. All he could do, all he could ever do, was hope to distract her enough so she could make it through another day.

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