Wow, so... this is really depressing. I wrote it because my brother always argues with me over what a horrific scene this was, and I wanted to get my thoughts on it out more clearly.

So enjoy. All rights to the owners of Doctor Who, and please don't hate me for writing something so depressing at Christmas time :P

Rory didn't understand.

When Amy woke up in the middle of the night, screaming and reaching for a baby that wasn't there—would never be there—he held her and said it would be all right and let her cry. But she knew he didn't understand.

They discussed it once, during the day, when the nightmares had passed.

"Remember when you were holding my hand, and the Doctor zapped me, and then I was gone?" Amy said. "Wasn't that hard?"

"Yes," Rory said slowly, wary of saying the wrong thing and getting hit in the arm. "But that wasn't you. I mean, it was the Flesh. It wasn't… you."

He was sensible like that.

Of course, Amy knew that Melody was safe. That she had grown up safe and was, in fact, raised by her parents, married to their best friend. She knew that the child she had held was just a replica, the Flesh.

But in her nightmares… Amy relived that moment over and over. Holding Melody in her arms. Comforting her baby, pressing that warm bundle safely to her chest. And then feeling her… disappear. Turn to nothing. Her baby, her child, gone.

Of all the things she had seen and done, that was the worst. Nothing could compare to that moment when she tried so hard to protect her baby… and failed.

And Amy would never be okay.