It's times like these when I think about everything that has happened to me in my life.

When it the latest hours of the night, or the earliest hours of the morning; when the sky is still dark and everyone else is asleep but I cannot. I lay in bed, next to Amy, staring at the ceiling, or sometimes I go and sit at the top of the stairs or out in the garden. And I think.

And sometimes I cry. And sometimes I get angry, but sometimes I just wonder why I ended up with the life I've been given.

I can remember the day after Amy first met her "raggedy Doctor". We weren't really close friends, but I was the only one who would listen to her stories without laughing at her. I completely believed in the raggedy Doctor, and because of that, we became friends. I remember we would play pretend, with me dressing up as the Doctor, taking Amy away to adventures. I always wished we could go on an adventure then...

But then Amy would tell me again that when the Doctor came back, she would leave for real adventures. Though, once it had been about two years, and the Doctor still hadn't returned, I began to dislike the idea of the Doctor. I didn't want anyone to take Amy away from me. She was my best friend... my only friend, really, and I was beginning to be fond of Leadworth. I didn't want to leave on adventures anymore.

That was the first childhood I can remember. Somewhere in there, I also have the memories mixed in where Mels was always with us, but it's hard to explain. I have two different childhoods in my memories... well, three actually, but I try to forget the third one. Sometimes you can't help remembering though.

Eventually, I decided that the Raggedy Doctor had just been something from Amy's lively imagination (although I never would have told her that). I did have one thing to thank the Doctor for though, and that was my career path: choosing to become a nurse and training to hopefully become a Doctor some day. Now, I wonder if I was really doing that because I wanted to, or because hopefully it would help Amy notice me. That I was there.

I don't really remember when my friendship with Amy turned into something more... with so many memories and childhoods, they all get a bit tangled until I have trouble separating one from the others.

I remember the day that the Doctor actually returned. Twelve years late. I was angry at him. I couldn't and didn't show it, but I was very angry. How could this man have left Amy here for twelve years, when he promised five minutes? I wondered. And I was confused. The Doctor can be a very confusing man. I was also scared, but more than that, I was hurt. Amy refused to tell the Doctor that we were together, even though we'd been going out for six months at that point.

And then he left again. He defeated the aliens, called them back to Earth, scolded them, and left again. For two more years. He broke Amy's heart again, but I was there to pick up the pieces. I really thought then that we would lead normal lives: marry, live in Leadworth, have a family.

But then the Doctor came back.

And on the night before our wedding, Amy left for her adventures. And then the Doctor pops up (literally) later that night, to tell me that he'd been snogging my fiancé! To make matters worse, once the Doctor took me to his transdimentional time machine, I really felt like Amy didn't want me to be there with them. I was a third wheel. I guess I always had been, in a way.

Then there was the day she chose. Amy's choice. I honestly thought she would choose him, but she didn't. And I realized that even after I had tried to drag her back to Earth with reality, and my (I suppose) humdrum, average dreams of a quite life and family, she never really had been grounded. So pulling her back to Earth would have been useless. I decided to join her in the life of adventure with the mad Doctor in his blue box, traveling through space and time.

But then I died.

Shot by a Silurian, and being slowly erased from existence. It was painful, but all I could think of was Amy.

And then... then I was a Roman, with a head full of Roman thoughts and things. It was very distracting, as I told the Doctor. I grew up in my Roman family and became a soldier for the legions. That is the past I try to forget, but at the same time, I can't help but remember. I don't think I want to forget completely because that time changed me so much. I became a soldier, Roranicus, no longer fearful, boring Rory from Leadworth, but I never forgot Amy. I wasn't even sure how I could remember her, but I could.

I found her. I was certain I would never see the firey, Scottish, ginger again, but somehow, as the Doctor said through a "miracle" , I did. And she didn't remember me, and then I killed her.

I guess being plasticine, I never really lead that Roman life that I thought I did. It was all just artificial memory... but it was all too real, and I still think to this day that it was.

However, the 2000 years of waiting and guarding the Pandorica was real, and I remember every moment, from when it was discovered by some archaeologists and taken to London, to when I moved it from the warehouse that was bombed in the blitz. And then, suddenly, one day in 1996, the young Amelia Pond came and opened the Pandorica, freeing my Amy.

And then the Doctor rebooted the Universe, and suddenly, it was my wedding day. Finally, my wedding day. And River dropped off her journal for Amy, and Amy was sad. I honestly still can't believe that we forgot about the Doctor, but I am so glad that Amy remembered.

Of course, there was our... "eventful" honeymoon in that crashing space-cruiseship on Christmas and a few other adventures with the Doctor (including that one on the Orient Express in space...). But then he took us home, and we didn't hear from him for a while.

Then came America.

America, and everything that went wrong from there. The Silence kidnapping Amy, the child in the spacesuit, being fake-shot by Canton to try to cover up our investigation on the Silence... and that conversation with River. I will never forget that, and her words haunt me to this day.

"When I first met the Doctor—a long long time ago—he knew all about me. Think about that. Impressionable young girl and suddenly this man just drops out of the sky. He's clever and mad and wonderful and... and knows every last thing about her. Imagine what that does to a girl."

Of course I didn't have to imagine, I knew. I'd seen it with Amy, but at least with Amy, he hadn't known everything about her. I wondered at that point what River's past had been; what her childhood must have been like, what her parents were like... And now I know. But I almost wish I didn't sometimes.

"Trouble is, it's all back to front. My past is his future. We're travelling in opposite directions. Every time we meet I know him more, he knows me less. I live for the days when I see him. But I know that every time I do he'll be one step further away. The day's coming when I'll look into that man's eyes—my Doctor—and he won't have the faintest idea who I am. And I think it's going to kill me."

I think of what she said now, and I hurt, and I'm angry, and I'm sad beyond belief. The Doctor has hurt my daughter so many times... I know he never meant to, but he did, and from what River told me then, I know he will again. I wish so much that I had been there as a father to River... to Melody, but I guess that was never meant to be. But I think of what she said then, and I cry.

After America, there were the pirates, and I died again. But Amy saved me that time. Then there was House and the TARDIS woman, and then there were the Gangers. Jen. I still don't know what to think about her. I pitied her and trusted her, but her Ganger... I'm still so confused about all that happened that day at that chemical castle. That day when I learned that my wife had actually been missing for months. And the Doctor hadn't told me.

Demon's Run. That was the turning point. The time when I realized again how far I would go to protect my wife... my baby. Little Melody, that perfect little baby... and now I know that I never even got to hold her since the baby I rescued was a Flesh Ganger too. But she was perfect, and to think for a moment that she and Amy were safe was bliss. But then that moment ended, and it ended in death for many and so much pain for Amy and me. But I'd known. River had warned me when I asked her to help us and she refused. I knew things would get bad. I just didn't realize how bad. And then River showed up, out of the blue and too late. The Doctor was angry at her, and Amy was angry at her, and I was angry at her, but I knew she had something to tell. I never expected it to be her telling us she was our daughter. Little Melody, who we had been holding as a baby just a half hour before... was standing before us. Grown up, and as River Song.

I know that the Doctor found little Melody and tried to help her as much as he could, but there was nothing he really could do. To rescue Melody would have been to destroy River Song, and I know the Doctor would never have been able to do that. So Amy and I had to suffer instead.

I try not to think of Berlin. That whole day was just too strange, but to see Mels transform into "unfinished" River was... a shock... to say the least. But seeing "psychopath River" transform into River Song... I can say that I was proud. Proud of her for being so strong, and grateful to the Doctor for helping her become what I suppose she was always destined to be.

But then there was more pain after Berlin, and nothing more painful than Apalapucia. I'd never hated the Doctor more than I did that day. Being forced to choose between my wife and my wife... being forced to be him. Amy's face (older Amy's face) and voice through the doors of the TARDIS as I locked her out... That is another day I try to forget, but I know I never will.

Finally there was the day that the Doctor took us home, home to a new house with a new car (I love that car...). I know it hurt Amy, but to be honest, it hurt me too. I knew that the Doctor would come back some day though. Amy had us set his place every evening at dinner... and we waited again.

But again, things weren't over, and I have that second memory of the aborted timeline when everything happened at once. When I lost Amy again, and the Silence were about to kill me... but the Amy remembered and saved me. I saw Amy as I'd never seen her before that day. Angry, broken, and cold; nothing but pure hate as she placed the eyedrive back on Kovarian.

And then I gave my daughter away to marry the Doctor and save the Universe (again). The Doctor hurt River so many times that day... but then he married her. And then River told us the truth about what he'd whispered in her ear, and two years passed before the Doctor showed up (literally) on our doorstep again. Forgiven.

And I have forgiven him for all the pain (I know Amy has too) because in the end, I cannot imagine being satisfied with the life I once wanted. I still have my wife, and we've had enough adventures to last for many lifetimes. It is still painful though, to think about the time I never got with my daughter, but maybe... maybe Amy and I will have another chance with a child. I do still hope so, but I am so proud of River.

And while I may be content to live a "normal" life now, I feel that our adventures with the Doctor are not yet over.

Until then, I sit here at night and think and remember. I cry and I rage, but I accept what has happened to us. There's nothing else I can do. That, and wait, but something tells me that we won't have to wait much longer for another adventure; not that it matters. With the Doctor, I've learned there's all the time in the world.

But somewhere in the depths of my mind and maybe even soul, I feel that for some reason, there isn't much time left.