Hello! This piece was done based on a dream I had last week, oddly enough! I loved it, and luckily I keep a notepad by my bed, or I would have forgotten it altogether. Anyway, this is exactly as it went, just a little more fleshed-out with descriptions and such. My subconscious seemed to have written Rory completely out of the picture, and my working theory is that he died (for good, this time) near the end of the Doctor and Amy's companionship, and judging by how very little he's mentioned, it's a very sore spot for them. Anywho, I hope you enjoy it! I certainly had fun writing it. :) x

A cool breeze blew through the tall grass behind a farmhouse, ruffling the early morning dew. It is early spring, and the only sound piercing the silence is the eager chirping of birds. The wind then picks up and increases in volume as another sound is heard - a loud grinding noise. The grinding sound becomes louder and louder, but stops with a thunderous bang as a blue police box materializes in the field. The bright blue sticks out like a sore thumb in the vibrant green of the grass, but at the same time, it almost feels as though it belongs there.

The door of the police box opened and Amelia Pond sticks her head out, her red hair swishing around her face as she took in her surroundings. She eased herself out slowly, carrying a white bundle tight against her chest - a baby. Her wide eyes stared skywards as she strode into the grass, her boots wet with the dew. The Doctor hopped out of the box behind her and shut the door, watching Amy carefully as though waiting for her to recognize something.

"Doctor, where are we?" Amy asked, her Scottish lilt quiet with wonder. She turned to look at him, still clutching her precious bundle, and stared into his eyes. He gave her a crooked smile and walked over to stand next to her.

"You don't recognize it? Pond, I'm surprised at you."

"Why? Was I supposed to know about this 'special last trip' beforehand?" Amy asked with a chuckle as she brushed a few locks of her flaming hair out of her face.

The Doctor laughed under his breath and looked over at her. She looked right back at him, and she saw his real age in those blue eyes. His face is so young but she sees all nine hundred and nine of his years. She saw everyone he'd lost - everyone that left and everyone that gave themselves in his place. And she could see the fresh pain in his eyes. It's all because this would be the last time she'd see him - they're both all too aware of it.

"We're in Scotland, Amy. Welcome home," he whispered.

Amy's breathing hitched in her throat and her eyes got even larger as she quickly looked around again, and then turned back to the Doctor. "W-what?"

The Doctor smiled and puts an arm around her quivering shoulders as he looked down at the small baby. He rubbed her shoulder comfortingly and then dropped his arm to shove his hands into his trouser pockets.

"I don't know how much you remember about the night I landed in your garden, Amy, but I'll never forget. I remember that little Scottish girl in an English village. I remember you told me how rubbish it was," he laughed. "So I thought that this was the least I could do, after everything I've put you through. Amelia Pond. The Scottish girl in an English village, home at last."

When the Doctor turned to face his companion again, he was shocked to see her eyes red and puffy, tears streaming down her face.

"I remember all of it. I-I just… how did you..?" Amy stammered, tears choking her voice.

"I called in some favours. An old friend of mine pulled some strings. He can really be quite the convincing fellow. Good man, Jack." He said contentedly.

She gave a teary laugh and shook as she wiped at her eyes. "I can't believe you've done this! I've got a house, Doctor, back in Leadworth."

"I know that. 'Course I know that. D'you really want to go back there?"

Amy scowled and pouted at him, sniffling slightly. "No. And you're not taking me back there, so don't get any ideas, mister."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good." She grinned, no trace of her scowl left on her face. "So where is it, then? Is it this little farmhouse here?"

Amy's now soaked boots rustle in the grass as she went towards it, the Doctor following closely behind. She was thankful that the wind had died down and her skirt didn't fly up as she walked. She's always careful of that. Melody shifted in her sleep and Amy looked down at her, cooing her softly back into her deep dreams. The Doctor peered over Amy's shoulder proudly and a small smile made its way to his face.

"I wasn't sure, at first, how you'd adjust to being a mum, Amelia. But you've been brilliant. You are brilliant. The brilliant, magnificent, Amy Pond." He said matter-of-factly, planting a brief kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you. Now don't ever question my mothering ability again." She said, making the Doctor laugh.

The two time travellers made their way to the front door of the small farmhouse, and Amy knew immediately that the house was perfect. It was not large at all - what would be the point? It was just for Amy and baby Melody - and it was not cramped. It was slightly aged, but still beautiful, with lush plants around its front. Whoever that Jack bloke was that the Doctor had mentioned, he certainly had great taste.

"I still can't believe you bought me a house! God, Doctor, I've caused you enough trouble." She said, shaking her head as she looked her home up and down.

"You caused me trouble? Amelia, I as good as ruined your life. I made you wait for 14 years, stole you away on the night before your wedding, put you and Rory in the face of danger one too many times, and didn't even notice when you weren't even there. You were a clone, and I couldn't see it. You had to have a baby all alone, in so much pain and so frightened. As long as I live Amelia, I'll never forgive myself for it all. I'll never forget it, either." He said, the guilt strong in his voice. The Doctor hung his head and leant against the side of the house.

"Shut up."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her cross tone and watched as Amy sat down cross-legged in the grass in front of him, forcing herself into his eyeline. The softness in her eyes had been replaced with a hard, blazing look, aimed straight at him.

"You'd better start forgetting it, alright? Because I don't regret any of it, I honestly don't. What would my childhood have been without you? No raggedy Doctor to dream of and wish for, just a boring aunt in a boring village. I would never have seen the universe, it would've all been in my wildest dreams. No amazing worlds and creatures, no planets, no stars, none of it. I wouldn't have Melody either, eh? Would I?" Amy rambled. She breathed out heavily and reached down to stroke her daughter's cheek. Her body relaxed as she watched her and her tone softened to what it had been before. "What do you think Melody dreams of?"


"I wonder what she dreams about. I don't remember anything about being a baby, obviously, but I can't imagine she has a lot to go on."

The Doctor moved from the side of the house to plop himself down next to his companion.

"Well, she's not just any baby. She's your baby. She's young yet, but she's seen the universe. A small bit of it, yeah, but she's still seen it and she probably dreams of what else could be in it. I bet she's like you that way, Amy. Always dreaming of impossible things," he said simply.

"Like bowtie-wearing idiots in wooden time machines," she retorted, not taking her eyes from the little bundle.

The two of them sat there for a while in the grass, the silence saying more than words ever could. After a while, they both remembered why they were there in the first place - one last goodbye. That's why they were sat in that quiet Scottish field and that's why the Doctor had to leave her very soon. The longer he stayed, the more it would hurt when he at last left. They both knew that, but that knowledge wasn't going to make it any easier. The Doctor raised a cautious hand to rub small circles on her shoulder.

"I have to leave you soon, you know," he whispered into her ear.

"I wish you didn't."


He hoisted himself up and offered his hand to Amy, who reached for it and carefully stood without waking her daughter. She looked at him, her eyes full of sadness, and whispered something so quietly, even he couldn't hear it.

"What was that, Amelia?" he asked.

"I said, 'I'm going to miss you'," she whispered again, her voice slightly louder this time.

Without missing a beat, the Doctor had his arms around her, holding her as close as he could without crushing Melody. He closed his eyes and tried to keep the memory of everything in his head - the time, where they were, the way the sun blared down on the grass, the scent of Amy's hair - all of it. She grabbed him right back as best as she could with one arm, and the Doctor swore he heard a small, choked-back sob.

"Oh, Amelia," he murmured into her hair, "what am I going to do without you?"

"You're gonna have fun and you're gonna find another girl, that's what you'll do, " she answered. "You'll show off to a pretty young girl and you'll hop into that blue box and you'll go off to see the universe. Don't mope about me, stupid." She answered back, speaking more into his shirt than to his face.

He would miss that sharp, no-nonsense way she spoke. It reminded him of so many others, but at the same time, she was a mystery all on her own, a unique being that would be truly be irreplaceable. Mad, impossible Amy Pond. Oh, the times they'd had.

"But don't forget me."

"Pond, how could I ever do such a thing?"

He felt her laugh against his chest and at that moment, he also felt her tears hot against his shirt. But he didn't mind.

They broke apart slowly, and the Doctor held her face in his hands and smiled at her one last time. He raised his head up and kissed Amy's forehead, lingering there for several moments. It would, after all, be their last.

Amy blinked back her tears and in that very brief moment, the Doctor was back at the TARDIS, staring at her. He waved his arm dramatically and whisked inside, the door clattering shut behind him.

As it had nearly an hour before, the wind grew stronger and that familiar noise of the TARDIS brakes sounds loudly in the calm countryside. Amy's piercing green eyes locked on to it and she didn't dare look away, not now that she knew it would be the last time she'd see it go. That blue box dematerialized in only a few quick flickers, and as quickly as it had appeared, it had gone.

Amy stared forwards, directly at the spot the TARDIS had been seconds before, as if she was in a trance. A small, soft whine coming from Melody jostled her out of her reverie, and she began to rock her to put her back to sleep. Melody's cries only grew louder, and her tiny whines soon turned to fully fledged shrieks and tears. Still crying herself, Amy hugged her daughter to her chest, bouncing slightly on her toes to calm her.

"It's okay," she muttered, gently rubbing the back of Melody's head, "mummy's sad too. But you're gonna see him again, though, aren't you? You'll travel the stars with him. You've got hundreds and hundreds of years ahead of you yet. You'll have the life I never could. I promise you, everything will be okay."

Amy cooed her all the way into the house without even realizing it. The house wasn't empty as she had thought it would be, but full of furniture. It had everything, right down to the plates in the kitchen to the photographs on the walls. But what were they of? Amy inched closer to them and they made her tears fall even faster. The one directly before her on the wall was when they'd gone to Space Florida. She smiled as she recognized it as one she'd taken of the Doctor not getting on too well with a flock of seagulls. And the one next to that was of herself, standing with her arms spread out, in front of Vincent Van Gogh's home. And the one next to that was of Rory, drinking a milkshake in a diner in 1969. She noticed that there were no visible shots of River, and for that she was somewhat glad. It would be an awfully long story to tell Melody when she got a bit older.

Amy went up the stairs, with a firm hold on the baby to find her room directly across the landing. It was almost exactly the same as her room had been in her parents' house in Leadworth, right down to the brilliantly blue walls and the childhood drawings on her dresser. Could they really be the same ones? She decided to look through them once she'd found Melody's room, so she went back down the hallway and into the next room over. She stopped immediately in the doorway, the heels of her boots latching to the carpet. Amy's throat felt tight as she viewed the nursery.

"Oh, Doctor."

The walls were a very pale shade of turquoise, adorned with white shelves to hold toys and photographs as she grew up. The ceiling had been painted black - usually the biggest decorating faux pas there is, but certainly not this time - with tiny stars and planets. A whole universe for Melody to search as she fell asleep.

Amy lowered Melody into the large cot in the middle of the room and she stared up, gazing in awe at something but not making a sound. Amy looked up at where her daughter was staring too, and saw a tiny, blue police box painted in next to the Earth.

It had been amazingly easy to coax Melody to sleep, and Amy was then free to explore the house. There were not too many rooms, which she liked, so the whole farmhouse was warm and cozy. It was the perfect size for the two of them. Slouching down on the couch, Amy dozed into a very light sleep, careful to listen for Melody's cries. The couch was incredibly comfortable - it would have been so easy to lie on it forever and forget all her troubles and cares. But that wouldn't be very easy to achieve, as Amy eventually grew hungry and sloped off to the kitchen.

It was late in the evening now, and only one small lamp was on in the main room, sending rays of dim light into the pitch black kitchen, making it seem eerie and surreal, otherworldly and wholly different. Despite the house having literally everything she needed, Amy opened her cabinets and drawers to find that there was no food - she'd get to the shops in the morning, she decided. Maybe there was something in the fridge.

Amy pulled open the door of her refrigerator, seeing nothing but empty shelves and a bright, slightly buzzing lightbulb. Sighing, she closed the door and then reached for the door to the freezer. With a slight jolt of her hand, she pulled it open.

Sitting there, as another last goodbye, was a box of fish fingers and a bowl of custard, just as there had been nearly sixteen years before.