Word Count: 5563

Beta-ed by the wonderful obscure_musical

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. Title/quote come from the song by Trading Yesterday.


Part One


It's Christmas morning on some planet that may or may not be Earth and Amy's dressed in one of her kissogram costumes even though it's freezing, because technically she's on her honeymoon. Except their Space Cruise was interrupted by a storm cloud filled with space fish and she had to call the Doctor to come and save them. He came, of course. He always comes–sometimes he cuts it too close for her liking–but, in the end, he's always there.

And he saves the day, just like he always does. But now it's Kazran and Abigail's last night together and she's not so sure that he's proud of what he's done.

Rory all but runs out of the snow and into the TARDIS. There's snow in her hair and goose bumps down her legs, and she's absolutely freezing, but she lingers outside with the Doctor. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay. You?"

It's on the tip of her tongue to nod and tell him of course she's okay, regardless of whether or not she really is. But something in the way the Doctor looks at her stops her. Because he looks as if he's okay, as if nothing's happened, as if he's perfectly fine. But she knows her Doctor and she knows how sensitive he can get and there's no damn way that he's fine. He's faking, hiding, pretending. Running from the truth again.

Amy rolls her eyes and takes a step forward, closing the distance in between them, and wraps her arms around his shoulders. "You're a rubbish liar," she tells him. He tenses up for the slightest of moments, as if he's unsure of how to react, before he softens and hugs her back. "Thank you," she whispers, "for saving us." She realises it isn't something she tells him often.

The TARDIS door swings open. "Your phone was–" Rory stops midsentence.

It doesn't even take the Doctor a heartbeat to pull away and leave another gap in between them. There's some talk about Marilyn Monroe and not a real chapel, before Rory goes back into the TARDIS. Amy knows she should follow her husband, but stops and glances at her Doctor instead. He gives her a gentle look. She can see the effect the night's had on him combined with his nine hundred years of wear and tear. But there's something else there, something a bit lighter, a bit kinder. It's gone before she can figure out what exactly it was, but she knows she saw it.

"Come along, Pond." He gives her his usual stupid grin, before he swings the door open.

She smiles and follows her Doctor into the TARDIS.

Amy sits in bed, her back against the headboard and a history book in her lap. The Doctor's up to something, she knows it. He has to be. Why else would be continue to do all of these bizarre things? Granted, subtlety's never been his thing, but this is taking it to a whole new level. It's almost like he's trying to attract her attention across time.

Rory lifts the sheets and climbs into the bed beside her. "Are you ever going to put that thing down?"

"I'm trying to figure out what he's up to."

"You don't know that he's up to anything."

"Of course he is. He's the Doctor. I know him."

Rory opens his mouth as if he's going to protest but an alarm from her phone stops him. Amy frowns at him for a moment before she shakes her head and opens the top drawer of her nightstand. She takes one pill from the package and swallows it.

He frowns. "I don't see why you're taking those things."

"Cause the name birth control doesn't give it away or anything."

"But why? Having a kid wouldn't be that bad, would it?"

"It would be if we were in the TARDIS." Because having a child would mean giving up their travels and there's no way she's ready to give that up yet.

"Right. Because we're not in Leadworth now or anything."

"The Doctor will be back. He said he'd be in touch."

"That was two months ago."

"Two months is nothing." Especially when you compare it to the fourteen years she waited.

He stares at her for a moment, a frown on his lips. After a moment, he sighs. "Fine." He turns over so that his back faces her.

Amy rolls her eyes, but puts her book on the nightstand. "Hey, I told you we would talk about it again when we stopped travelling. Things are crazy enough then. The last thing we need is a baby with a time head or something."

He looks over his shoulder, a confused look on his face. "A time head?"

"Shut up, it could happen."

He laughs. She smacks him on the arm, but doesn't protest when he rolls back over and kisses her. He tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear. "So when we leave the TARDIS…"

"We'll talk about it then, okay?"

Rory looks at her in a way that clearly tells her he's not okay with it, but he nods anyway.

"You can let me fly it!"

"Yeah, or we could go where we're supposed to."

Amy watches the Doctor and River bicker for a few moments more before she realises that Rory isn't beside her. She frowns and turns to find him still standing by the TARDIS doors with this strange look on his face.

"What's the matter with you?"

He keeps staring at her with this bizarre look on his face and she can't exactly tell if he's happy or upset. For a moment, she thinks he's going to tell her something, but he just shakes his head instead and grins at her in this way that only sort of reaches his eyes.

"Nothing. I'm just glad you're okay."

She raises a brow at him. "Of course I'm okay. I knew you and the Doctor were coming."

He frowns, that same look flashing across his face for a moment. She opens her mouth to ask him what the hell is wrong, but the TARDIS shakes around them. Amy grabs a hold of the stair railing to keep her balance.

"Ha!" the Doctor tells River. "Told you I could do it!"

By the time she remembers to look back at Rory, Canton's already back in the TARDIS and they're on their way to the White House.

Later, Amy finds her little red voice recorder in the kitchen rubbish bin.

Avery orders his men to stay with Rory and Toby while he and the Doctor go to the TARDIS. The Doctor opens his mouth, probably to give her some advice about staying safe and not getting hurt, but she cuts him off before he can even begin.

"I'm coming with you."

"No, absolutely not. I need you to stay here and keep an eye on the others."

"Rory can do that."

"And who will keep an eye on him?"

"Standing right here." Rory interrupts them.

She ignores him. "He's a big boy; he can take care of himself."

"He's marked with the spot."

"And since there's no water here, that won't be a problem, now will it?"

The Doctor opens his mouth to argue; she crosses her arms and gives him a look that dares him to tell her she can't come. He stares at her for a moment or two before he frowns and sighs. Amy smirks before she turns and gives Rory a quick kiss.

"Stay out of trouble."

"Yeah, sure," he mumbles.

Amy frowns, suddenly questioning her decision. Maybe she should stay with Rory. He does have this knack for getting himself into trouble on their adventures. And Avery and the Doctor are just running to bring the TARDIS to them; they should be fine.

"Come along, Pond."

Still…still.

She turns and follows her Doctor.

The Doctor sits on the swing below the TARDIS control panel, tinkering with a few wires and wearing the most ridiculous pair of goggles. Amy looks down at him through the glass floor. He acts fine, like his usual smiling self, but she knows he's not. In a weird wibbly-wobbly sort of way, he lost his TARDIS the moment he found her. He can't possibly be okay.

"How's it going under there?" Rory asks.

The Doctor starts to explain, but he uses all these ridiculous terms that don't actually give them any sort of clue as to what he's doing. She doesn't really pay attention anyway. Instead she looks up at her husband, taking advantage of the Doctor's distracted rambles.

"Hey, can you give us a moment?"

He frowns. "Now?"

"I just want to talk to him. See if he's alright. You know how he can get."

Rory looks as if he doesn't exactly want to, but he doesn't say anything. He just stares at her for a moment with that stupid frown on his lips. But before she can tell him to stop being ridiculous, he sighs and nods. She grins and kisses him on the cheek, before he calls out some pathetic excuse to the Doctor and leaves the control room. Once he's gone, she walks down to the Doctor and sits on the steps.

"Are you going to make her talk again?"

"Can't," he answers automatically. She doesn't bother to ask why; he'll probably just give her some long, complicated explanation that will eventually boil down to spacey-wacey. "Almost finished. Two more minutes and then we're off!" He goes off on some tangent about Orion's belt for a moment, looking up at the TARDIS fondly. "What do you think, dear?" he asks her.

Amy smiles. "Look at you pair. A boy and his box." And for some reason, she isn't sarcastic or sympathetic. It's sort of magical and so very him. Him and Her. His TARDIS. It's almost like they were made for one another and she thinks she understands that. "You love her, yeah?"

He doesn't answer her. He just continues to tinker with the wires, but there's a soft smile on his lips and that's all the answer she needs. She watches him for a minute or two more before he connects two random wires together. He grins and pulls his stupid goggles off.

"Just about finished. House deleted all of the bedrooms. I should probably make you and Rory a new one. You'd probably like that, wouldn't you?" He nods. "Up the stairs, keep walking and you'll find it."

She sits there for a moment, watching her Doctor. After a moment or two, she nods even though he isn't looking at her, before she gets up and walks away.

He isn't alright yet, she can tell. But, she thinks with a gentle smile, he will be.

Amy stares at Rory with wide eyes, his words not quite absorbing. "What? I'm sorry, but what?"

She half expects him to start laughing – crack a grin at the very least – and tell her he was just joking. That he was just testing her reaction, which she will still kill him for, but it would be better than this. Anything would be better than this. Because this has to be some sort of sick, cruel joke. He can't be serious. There's absolutely no way that he can be serious.

The guilty look on his face tells her it is. "I'm, uh, staying here."

She scowls. "This isn't funny. Now come on, it's time to go."

"I'm serious, Amy."

"Rory, this is the thirty-first century; that's ten centuries in our future. We can't stay here. We don't belong here."

This time, he doesn't meet her gaze. "I didn't mean us. I'm staying here."

Her heart stops beating and the realisation begins to sink in. "You're…you're leaving me?" It's only then that she notices that ganger, Jennifer; she's a bit away from them, but it's definitely her and she's definitely watching them. It doesn't even take a breath for Amy's shock to turn into anger. "What? For her?"

He gets defensive all of a sudden and she knows she's right. "Leave her out of this."

"I bloody well won't! Rory," she hisses, "she isn't even a real human."

His expression darkens and twists until he resembles a very angry soldier. A very angry centurion. "And you don't understand how that feels, Amy."

The guilt hits her harder than anything she's ever felt, because suddenly she understands. The two thousand years he spent sitting by her side, watching her, protecting her. Loving her. And he wasn't even human at the time. Not technically.

It takes her a moment to find her voice again. She steps forward and touches his arm. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Let's just go back to the TARDIS, yeah? We can talk about this there."

His face softens and Amy thinks he'll actually do it. They'll go back to the TARDIS and have this stupid conversation they've been avoiding this entire time. It'll probably result in some ridiculous spat, but they'll work through it and it will all be better in the end. Because he's her Rory and that's really how they work. Because he's Rory Pond, the-boy-who-waited. The one who waited for her. The one who promised her he would never stop waiting.

Except she knows that he has.

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry Amy, but I'm not coming back."

"Rory." Her voice shakes when she talks. She's never pleaded for anything before in her life, because she's Amy Pond and Amy Pond does not beg. But if she did, this would be it, because he's Rory and he's not supposed to leave her. "I'm your wife."

He looks at her with all the love in the world, as if he's remembering every last one of their memories. He looks at her as if he's looking at the little girl who dressed him in her grandfather's old suit and tie, as if she's the wild girl at all of the parties, as if she's his beautiful new bride. But he doesn't look at her with hope. He looks at her as if he's accepted some stupid idea he's gotten into his stupid head.

He looks at her as if he's letting her go.

"But you don't need me."

And it feels as if the Earth has just gone and shifted beneath her. She glances at the Jennifer. "And she does." The words sound angry and bitter even to her own ears, but she really doesn't give a damn right now. "So that's it then? I'm not needy enough? I'm not helplessly locked away in some stupid box so you don't care anymore?"

"No! Amy's that's not what I said! Just listen to me for a–"

"You know what? Forget it. Stay. Stay here with her. I don't even care!" she snaps and pulls the ring off of her left hand. She tosses it at him and doesn't even wait to see it land before she turns away, her vision blurring.

The Doctor's standing at his TARDIS when she gets there. "Ah! There you are Ponds. About time. What took you–" His smile drops immediately. "What's wrong?" She pushes past him and opens the door.

"Amy!" Rory calls.

The Doctor's fingertips brush against her forearm, somehow holding her in place. "Amy? What happened?"

She looks at him, but refuses to meet Rory's gaze. "Ask him." She pulls her arm back and slams the door shut behind her. Once she's in the TARDIS, Amy doesn't look at the control panel, doesn't think to, she just climbs straight up the stairs and finds the corridor with her bedroom.

Which, of course, turns out to be the absolute worst thing to do. Because he's there–Rory–he's everywhere. He's in the pictures hanging on the walls, he's in the medical books on the nightstand, he's in the left half of the wardrobe. He's in the bathroom mirror, he's in the clothes tossed aside on the floor, he's in the sheets of the bed. He's in the stupid bunk-bed that they always complained about, but never bothered to ask the Doctor to change. He's there in every bloody inch of the room.

And Amy can't take it, she refuses to. So she runs. She runs straight out of the room, through the corridor, and back into the control room. She runs so fast that she nearly crashes into the Doctor. It's only his absurd ability to keep his balance that prevents them from tumbling down to the ground.

He frowns. "Amy…" he mumbles and he looks at her with these sad, sympathetic eyes.

She pushes past him and to the actual controls. "I'm fine." Her voice cracks and her vision blurs. Damn. She pushes the tears away with the ball of her palm. "Seriously. So let's go somewhere, yeah?" She doesn't care that she's beyond exhausted and that she really should rest. "How about Space China? There's a Space China, isn't there? Or what about Space Florida. We haven't been to a beach in forever." She fiddles with the TARDIS controls, not caring that she has absolutely no idea what the hell she is doing. A few of things beep, but nothing explodes or sends them crashing or anything like that.

He sighs. "Okay." He doesn't babble at her anymore, but he stops staring at her with that stupid face.

And he doesn't take them to Space Florida, but he does take them to somewhere with a beach. It looks just like a normal Earth beach at night, except for the four triangle shaped moons. The Doctor tells her it's an Earth colony, but she forgets the year the moment he says it. Normally she wouldn't, but today she does. Her mind is too cluttered to keep a hold of any dates right now.

Amy and the Doctor sit along the shore, just far away enough to prevent the water from licking at their shoes. And, for the first time in longer than she can remember, they stay silent; neither of them sure of what exactly to say, both of them too shocked to say much.

It's almost sort of funny, she realises, that Rory, the boy who waited two thousand years for her, barely lasted a year of marriage. Especially since he was the one who wanted it to begin with, because God knows she hadn't. She'd never been the marrying type after all, and she had been perfectly fine with their relationship as it had been. But stupid Rory had been the one who insisted that they get married and she had just gone along with it because, well, why the hell not? It wasn't as if she had wanted to be with anyone other than him and it made him happy and she loved him. She loves him.

She loves him and he left her.

And for what? Because she doesn't need him? Is she not clingy enough for him? What sort of rubbish excuse is that anyways? She's always been the independent sort and he knew that from the start. So what if she isn't the broken, crazy girl like she was when they were kids? So what if she isn't trapped in some stupid box, being shipped from place to place for two thousand years? So what if she doesn't need him now? That doesn't mean he shouldn't be with her. She loves him; he's her husband.

Was her husband.

Probably isn't now, come to think of it.

Bastard.

"Amy…"

It probably should strike her strange that she's here with the Doctor. How many times did she play this scene out with Rory? Okay, so it wasn't on some space beach in some random galaxy in God knows what year, but she can't even begin to count how many times he sat with her, trying to comfort her over some stupid jerk that had promised her something and left her. Part of her wants to laugh, because all her life, Rory's been the one who stayed and the Doctor's been the one who left. Except here she is with the Doctor while Rory's, well, who knows how far he is from her now.

Figures. Life's been a bitch to her ever since she was a child, so why should now be any different?

The Doctor moves his hand to the middle of her back, his fingers barely grazing her shirt, as if he's afraid he'll break her if he tries to touch her anymore. He doesn't say anything, but she doesn't mind. Honestly, she's not sure she wants to hear his bloody optimism right now and she thinks that he knows that.

Amy knows him, she knows that she does, but she's never stopped to consider how much he knows her. Which is pretty ridiculous, because she's always been with her Doctor, so of course he knows her. How could he not after everything they've been through together? He's her Doctor and she's his Pond, end of story.

Her Doctor...

Amy has always been a girl of instinct. Stopping to weigh the pros and cons of a situation have never exactly been her thing. She's a runner, after all, and runners don't always stop to think; they just go. Which is exactly what Amy does. She doesn't think, she just leans over and kisses her Doctor.

He stiffens and she can tell that his eyes are wide open, but he doesn't scramble or try to push her away. But he doesn't respond either; he just sort of sits there like some sort of idiot. He doesn't move, no matter what she does, no matter how hard she tries to get him to. And when she finally pulls back, she can see all of the age and exhaustion and pity in his eyes. Especially the pity.

And she gets it. Really, she does. He only stayed still because he didn't want to hurt her. Because, right now, he pities her more than anything. He doesn't want her. He's the Doctor and he's never wanted her. He's no different than Rory, really.

"Amy, I…"

"Shut up. I get it," she snaps, turning her head towards one of the pink moons so that she doesn't have to look at him. "Forget it, will ya?"

"Amy–"

"I said shut up, didn't I?" She takes a deep breath. "I… just…" the words take me home dance on the tip of her tongue, but she bites them back. Take her home to what exactly? Leadworth? To a brand new, completely empty, Rory-less house? To tell her parents that her husband left her? To tell his parents that their son decided he'd rather stay in the thirty-first century? Thanks, but she'll pass. "Let's just go back to the TARDIS, yeah?"

He doesn't answer; he just keeps staring at her with that bloody look until she finally gets sick of it. Amy gets up and leaves; she digs her key out of her pocket and opens the TARDIS door. She even makes it half way to the stairs by the time the Doctor catches up.

"Amy!"

How many bloody times is he going to say her name? Does he think that'll make things better? "Goodnight Doctor," she snaps back instead, refusing to turn around and face him. She doesn't want to see his stupid face with that damned look right now. She doesn't need his pity. She doesn't need him.

Either of them.

She's Amy Pond and she doesn't need anyone.

End of story.

The next couple of days pass in an awkward, tense silence. Except that isn't exactly true, because that would require her and the Doctor to be in the same room for more than a few minutes at a time. Which they aren't. They always seem to find something else to do in separate parts of the TARDIS. Until the third day, that is, when the Doctor seems to decide that enough is enough and calls out to her the moment she stumbles into the kitchen.

"Hendrix!" he cries with a grin.

Amy stares at him for a moment, absolutely baffled as to what exactly he's talking about this time. "What?"

"The Hendrix Experience!" he explains. "Brilliant band, they are. Absolutely fantastic. Astounding to see live, which I haven't done in years. Been meaning to for a while now, but haven't had the chance. Until now! So what do you say, Pond? Fancy a concert?"

She agrees, of course, because she knows exactly how ridiculous they're being. They can't keep avoiding each other. And this is why she came with him in the first place, to travel through time and space and do daft things – like seeing a band that broke up before she was even born.

Besides, Amy's always loved the sixties.

The concert is everything the Doctor promised and more. She sings along even though she doesn't know the words and he dances like some sort of drunken giraffe. It goes along brilliantly until Hendrix tosses one of his guitar picks at her and she turns to show it to Rory…only to remember that, oh right, he's not here; he's about a thousand years away.

It's about then that Amy decides to have a beer or two.

After the concert, the Doctor uses his psychic paper to get them backstage. He convinces the band that he's some sort of manager visiting from London and that she's his upcoming star, and she can tell they're immediately interested. Especially Jimi Hendrix, who, as it turns around, is quite the sweet talker. Amy just smirks, has another beer, and plays along. And why the hell not? It's not as if she needs to be faithful to anyone now. Besides, flirting has always been second nature to her.

It starts off with a few comments, a couple of winks and sly glances. But the longer they talk, the less innocent their teasing becomes and the closer he gets to her. And the next thing she knows, he presses something cool and metal into her hand.

"Room 212," he breathes into her ear.

The band decides that they're either tired or too drunk to sit around after that. They say their goodbyes and the Doctor stands and shakes their hands; Amy smiles and waves goodbye, but doesn't dare move from her spot just yet. She thinks she might be a bit too shocked to do anything else.

"Let's go Pond." The Doctor claps his hands together once they've all left. It doesn't take him long to start rambling something or other about space priests and concerts, but she's not exactly paying attention. Because, really, the only thing she's focused on at the moment is the little golden hotel key pressed against the palm of her hand.

Despite what her Aunt Sharon thinks, this isn't a situation Amy normally gets herself into. Yeah, sure, she's not exactly the model of a proper young lady or any of that rubbish and, okay, she's never exactly been shy about her sex life, but she isn't some sort of call girl. No one else has ever even had the nerve to do that to her. She's Amy Pond and she does not answer two word invitations to a hotel room.

But the thing is, Jimi's different. He's loud and reckless and wild. He's confident and passionate and an artist. He's probably the most anti-Rory person she's met yet. And he wants her.

"Amy," the Doctor interrupts her thoughts, his voice a bit more serious. "It's time to go, Amelia."

"Actually, I think I'll stay here. You know, with Jimi."

"What?" he asks, his eyes widened and panicked. "Amy this isn't your time period. You aren't even in Britain. You don't even know him. I can't just leave you here. You don't belong here. No. No, no, no. Absolutely not."

"I don't mean forever, moron," she rolls her eyes, "Just for the night. I'll come back to the TARDIS in the morning, okay?"

He finally seems to catch on (about bloody time too). He doesn't get flustered like she expected; he doesn't blush or scratch his cheek in that awkward way. Instead his eyes darken and her ridiculous, goofy Doctor is gone. "No."

Her eyes narrow. "What the hell do you mean no? I'm not asking for your bloody permission."

"You're drunk."

"I've had three beers."

"Doesn't matter. It's clearly affecting you. You're not thinking properly. Not at all. We need to get you out of here. Get you some fresh air. Some food and perhaps a spot of tea."

"I'm thinking just fine, thank you very much."

He frowns and she can tell he's getting angry with her. "Amy, we are not discussing this anymore. We are leaving. Now."

Part of her is tempted to just listen to him. He rarely takes that tone with her anymore. He knows better than to tell her what she can or can't do now. Usually, if he really wants his way, he'd rather trick her into it. So she's tempted and once upon a time it would have been enough to get her to do what he wanted. But not now. Not this time. This time is different. So very, very different.

"No." She crosses her arms.

"I am not asking you, Amelia. I tell you what to do and you do it."

"Not when it comes to this. You don't get to dictate who I do or don't spend my nights with. You are not my husband, Doctor."

His eyes widen and in that moment, she can see all of the hurt. The effect her words had on him. And it's almost enough to stop her, to make her change her mind and follow him back to the TARDIS

Except it isn't.

"Right. Of course not," he mumbles, suddenly refusing to meet her eyes. "You have your key, I trust. Good. Okay. I'll see you in the morning, Pond. Erm, goodnight then."

She opens her mouth to say something (what, she hasn't a damn clue), but he's already gone before the words can form. So she's left there, standing alone with two keys: one in her pocket and the other in the palm of her hand. One to the TARDIS and one to the hotel. One to the Doctor and the other to Jimi.

And, for a moment, she thinks she'll do it. Turn right around and follow the Doctor back, because, well, he's the Doctor. And, really, this is probably one of the times she should be a good girl and do as she's told. Except she's never really been the good girl type and she probably wouldn't know how to be even if she tried.

The Doctor's the Doctor and that's all there really is to it. He (usually) knows what he's talking about and how to judge what should and shouldn't be done. But Jimi's different. Jimi doesn't care about the bloody rules or what lines shouldn't be crossed. All he cares about right now is getting her. Because he wants her. He wants her and even when the Doctor doesn't. Even when her own husband doesn't.

That night, she goes home with Jimi Hendrix.

And later, when he's asleep and done and no longer wants her, Amy cries.

It's barely five in the morning when she sneaks back into the TARDIS. And that's exactly what she does: she sneaks and it's sort of like she's seventeen and broke curfew again. Except back then, she used to love the thrill of it, the rush of possibly getting caught doing what Aunt Sharon insisted she was too young to be doing. But it isn't like that this time; this time it it's fun or exciting and thrilling and there's no bloody rush. No, this time she sneaks in, because she's actually ashamed.

Amy Pond ashamed of her sex life.

Well, that's certainly a first.

"Good morning, Pond!" the Doctor calls. Amy glances below the TARDIS controls to find him sitting on his swing with his ridiculous goggles on, tinkering with some wires. He barely spares her a wave before he returns to his work. "Breakfast and tea are in the kitchen. Eat and wash up. Big day today! We're going to Sriast. Have I ever told you about Sriast? Marvellous place, that is. Fantastic planet. It's brilliant; you see the entire planet is made of stairs…"

She stands there, staring at him while he rambles on about the planets and the gravity differences and the amount of bloody stairs they have. He grins and laughs and acts as if everything is alright and normal and last night never even happened.

"Are you still standing there?" The Doctor removes his goggles. "Well, hurry up! We have things to do, people to save, adventures to have. There's an entire universe out there waiting for us." He looks up at her with his idiotic grin and his stupid eyes that aren't upset or angry or even disappointed. He looks up at her absolutely un-phased by what she did. As if it didn't mean anything to him. As if he doesn't actually care.

"Right," she mumbles, before she turns and leaves.

And if he doesn't care, why in the world should she?


Watch your step, love is broken…

Save your breath, your heart has spoken


Note: I started this back in June. I wanted to write a slower moving Eleven/Amy that doesn't completely neglect Amy/Rory. I also got so tired to the whole "one moment changes everything" idea, so I decided I wanted to mix it up. Instead of one moment changing everything, it changes another little moment, which changes another, which changes another, until something really big happens.