"I didn't mean it."

The Doctor looks up, a little surprised that she has returned so soon. Surely she and Rory would have retreated to their bedroom for… well, a while after the emotional trauma of the day. After Amy truly made her choice.

"Didn't mean what?" he asks, though he's fairly sure he knows.

Amy scowls at being forced to say it. "That there wasn't a point to you."

He looks back down at the console, fiddling with controls he's relatively certain do nothing. "I know."

"And I'm sorry."

"I know."

Silence falls. Amy shifts uncomfortably, then turns to head back out of the room.

The Doctor sinks down into a comfy chair and sighs. He doesn't believe her. Oh, he knows that she's sorry for saying something so… for saying that, so harshly that he can still hear the cold certainty of her demand: "Then what is the point of you?"

But that's just it. That certainty, it tells him that she did mean it. She meant it with all her heart.

And there was a part of him that agreed with her.

Suddenly he wishes Rose were here. Always so quick to tell him that it wasn't his fault, no matter how evidently it was. The one who refused to believe that his constant guilt was justified, and yet also the one who helped him come to terms with that guilt.

But Rose wouldn't recognise him now, he thinks. And he wouldn't look at her with the same eyes.

He sighs again. He shouldn't be so hurt. And yet Amy knows this him better than he does. He has existed for years from her perspective. He is more real to her than he is to himself, and the fact that she can still judge him so cruelly hurts, it really hurts.

River's right, he decides. Despite all of his nine or more centuries, he is still far too young.