Title: Tell me what success looks like
Genre: Character study and some gap-filling.
Summary: Set during The Girl Who Waited and also after The God Complex. Success looks quite ginger.
"I'm not going to help you," she told her younger self. "What have you done to deserve it? You can't imagine a life without the Doctor. You've travelled the universe but you haven't actually lived. But I have. And I want to keep on living. If I get out of here I'm not going to waste any more of my life. You think I don't mean it, about hating him, but I do. I remember being blindly in love with him like you are now. The honeymoon that'll never end. It will end. You will change your mind about the Doctor."
"You don't know that."
"Of course I do. Assuming he can pull this off, assuming he can rescue us, then what? Sooner or later he's going to abandon you, accidentally or on purpose, and then what will you do? For heaven's sake Amelia Pond, grow up."
The worst thing about getting lectured by a future-you is they always turn out to be right.
"I'm going to start a shop," she told Rory one night as they settled into bed in their normal house in a normal street on a normal planet where the future extended out in a straight line, unravelling unstoppably before them.
"We've got barely any money, with my A-levels I'd be lucky to get into a hairdressing course, and you're okay with me opening a shop?"
"Yeah," said Rory. "If that's what you want to do. I think you'd be good at it."
"You need money to open a shop."
"I could sell the car. That should give you some cash down for rent and stock and things."
"Oh my god, you're the worst investor ever! You don't even know what I'm going to sell. And how will you get to work?"
"I'll buy a bicycle. What are you going to sell?"
She racked her brain for the silliest thing she could think of.
"Handbags. And perfume."
"Okay then. As long as it's the real stuff and not the shoddy knock-offs."
"Rory Williams," she said, covering her face with her hands, "You are unbelievable!"
"But it's a good idea. You'd have the only handbag and perfume shop in town. You'll make a mint."
"You really think so?"
"And you're willing to bet the car on it?"
"And the house. Well, maybe not the whole house. Half the house. But I do believe you can do anything you set your mind to, Amy."
"Anything? What about my own designer handbag and perfume label?"
She considered that for a moment. Suddenly the future didn't seem so dull and linear after all.
"Thanks," she told him, reaching across the sheets to squeeze his hand. "That means a lot."
"Does this mean you're going to start carrying a handbag when we go out instead of shoving all your stuff in my pockets?"