"Exterminate." She said it softly, suddenly. That word and all its meaning ripped through the space around them like a bullet, and Rory whipped around to see Amy watching him with a vacant expression.

"Wh-what…" he said, the air forcing itself out of his stuttered lungs. And she grinned.

"Just keeping you on your toes." Amy was sprawled out on the teleport, her legs bent, fiddling with a bit of wire she'd found on the floor. Rory stopped his pacing around the circular platform and took a step towards her.

"Amy, do you remember anything I've just been saying?" He was almost begging now, and the threat of losing her, not just watching her die but watching her become some cruel puppet, an object of hatred and anger and rage, wrapped knots into his stomach.

"No," she said, looking scared again. Everything they'd done to her at the photo shoot, at the studio that now must be light years away, had been to make her look sophisticated and bored. Now, under all that dark eyeliner her eyes were wide and worried. "Something about… home?"

"Yes," said Rory, sitting down beside her. She straightened up, hanging her legs over the side of the platform. "Good. Home. You're remembering."

"I don't want to forget." She was looking at him, really looking straight at him, telling him exactly how she felt, and it was hurting both of them to realize neither could remember the last time she'd done that. "Don't let me forget."

"Alright," he said, clasping his hands together. "Alright, just keep looking at me. Just keep listening. I won't let you forget, but you have to keep listening." Amy nodded. "Um, the Doctor. He's your best friend, remember?" She gave him a patronizing look before nodding. "And you love him, right? I mean as a... friend. You love him."

Amy stared at him. She hadn't been expecting him to say something like that at all. "Yeah."

"Okay, that's good." He drummed his fingers on the platform's edge, thinking. "Melody," he said. "River, our daughter, you love her."

"Of course I love her," said Amy. "She's our daughter."

"Yes, but is that a fact, or is that a feeling?"

He was watching her the way someone might watch a picture, remembering the moment surrounding the frozen image, imagining that time that was now lost forever. Amy tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, nervous when she felt her hands trembling. "Keep talking. Please."

"Okay," he said. "Okay. Uh, your parents-"

"Rory, you can't keep avoiding the obvious," she finally snapped at him. He just stared at her.

"The… the obvious?" And he was looking at her like he really didn't know, and it hurt. It hurt Amy more than watching him stalk off their doorstep, flinging his jacket behind him, and it hurt more than seeing him sitting in her chair with divorce papers.

"The obvious," she repeated, staring at him incredulously. Still, he said nothing. "You, idiot. I love you."

He was quiet, then- "Still?" She rolled her eyes.

"What, did you think it was like you said? 'Just like magic'?" She shook her head. "You are so…" And she turned away from him.

"Amy," said Rory, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"No," she said. "Just… just go."

And he resumed pacing.