Melody visits, and she's gorgeous and perfect and theirs, one hundred percent their daughter, there's no mistaking it – but she's not a child, not anymore. They missed all that, and sometimes Rory catches Amy staring at her with this look on her face. Like she can still see their little girl in there, the one that was stolen from them, and it kills her.
Amy asks how the Doctor is, and follows it up with a half-teasing question of when they're going to be grandparents.
She's undeniably River when she scoffs and says they're more likely to be new parents before she is.
He looks at his wife, and he can see the hope she's barely containing, the same hope that's making his heart beat double time. So he nods, and she grins, and Melody just shakes her head in mock disgust.
She's always wanted a sibling though; they remember her complaining about it when she was Mels. It kind of makes sense now.
[*]
They were never the type of couple to plan things. The next few weeks are a blur of everyday moments turned into the most intimate of explorations.
She catches him the minute he walks through the door after work. He curls his hand over her hip just as she's about to drift off to sleep. She beckons for him to join her in the shower. He stretches her slender form out underneath him on the couch, the rug on the lounge room floor, and she presses hot kisses along his jawline as they collapse back onto the bed.
It should have happened by now.
[*]
The doctor – a normal doctor, not The Doctor, not their Doctor, because he's still being too stupid to visit – tells them not to worry, that they're young and healthy and it should happen naturally in time.
He says stress isn't conducive, so they need to try their best to relax.
If you're still worried after a few more months, come back, he says.
Amy slides his card into her wallet and won't meet Rory's eye as they leave the clinic.
[*]
They decide to stop actively trying and just see what happens.
He does everything he can to make sure she's relaxed. He runs bubble baths and gives her massages but she still seems agitated.
He tries to talk to her about it, but she brushes it off as being stressed about work. No big deal, she says, kissing his cheek.
He knows she's lying, but he doesn't know what to do about it.
[*]
Amy's latest photo shoot gets the attention of a stack of magazines and fashion houses, and Rory gets a raise from the hospital.
They go out for dinner and drinks and reminisce about their wedding, the reboot of the universe and their intergalactic honeymoon.
When they get home she melts into him, softening beneath his touch and losing herself in the sensation of the two of them together, properly together and so in love that she can't help but cry out his name.
He falls asleep with her nestled in his arms, and he thinks things couldn't be any more perfect than this.
[*]
Amy's in the bathroom, three white sticks arranged in a neat line along the edge of the sink. Three tests, with three positive signs staring back at her.
She lifts her shirt and splays her palm against her stomach, unsure of how she feels.
No one's going to take you away, she whispers. She hopes.
[*]
When she tells Rory he whoops with glee, sweeps her off her feet and spins her around.
He hasn't been this excited about anything in a long time. He wasn't even this excited when the Doctor got them the car.
They go for a long drive, get ice-cream and sit on the hood to eat it.
You're a great mum, he whispers into her hair.
You're an alright dad, she replies, dabbing her ice-cream on his lips and kissing it off.
[*]
It's probably still a bit too early to tell the sex, the doctor says as he conducts the ultrasound.
That's okay, it's fine, they don't care about the gender of their child as long as it's healthy.
And it is; it's there, tiny, curled up safely inside Amy and, oh, they're beautiful.
They take the print-out and put it on their fridge door.
[*]
They lie in bed and talk about the future.
The baby will have Amy's hair and Rory's eyes. He hopes they don't get his nose, but she says his nose is fine and hey, at least they know the baby's going to have a normal chin.
She runs her fingers through his hair as he lies with his face against her stomach. She asks, If it's a boy, would it be weird if we called him Doctor?
Rory loves her too much to do anything but laugh.
[*]
They buy a pram and a change table and all the things that new parents need, and everywhere they go everyone congratulates them and comments on how Amy is positively glowing.
They don't see her at three in the morning, pacing through the house and checking all the doors for hidden windows, constantly pinching her skin to make sure she's awake and this is real.
[*]
Rory's taken on extra shifts to try and get as much money saved up as possible, because they both want to be home as much as they can when the baby's born.
So by the time he gets home most nights Amy's already asleep in bed, and tonight is no different.
Except –
Rory, she whispers frantically, hand on his shoulder, shaking, Rory, I'm bleeding.
He tries not to panic, tries to keep his voice and his face positive as he helps her out the front door and into the car, even as all of his years of training scream at him that this is wrong-wrong-wrong.
Amy clutches her stomach and won't say a word.
[*]
The doctor is sorry, he really is, but there's nothing they can do.
They've lost the baby.
He starts talking about scarring, trauma in Amy's uterus, a high possibility of more miscarriages -
Rory feels his legs give out as he collapses into the green chair beside her hospital bed.
Amy starts to cry, and she doesn't stop.
[*]
They go home and Rory tries his best to be normal, but he's talking too much to cover up her silence and he's pretty sure she's not even listening, but he can't stop. Because if he stops he'll have to think about it.
Amy walks outside without a word, sits in her favourite chair on the back lawn and stares into space.
He leaves her alone for a while, because what can he say to make this okay?
When afternoon transitions into dusk, however, he walks out and places his hand on her shoulder. She jumps at his touch, turns to him with huge, glassy eyes, and there's nothing for him to do but wrap his arms around her.
She cries until she can't, and when he smiles at her she smiles back.
[*]
That night, when Rory's finally asleep, Amy slides out of bed and gets into the shower.
She turns the water on as hot as it will go and sits under the spray, scrubbing at her skin until she's clean.
She misses the Doctor now more than ever. She cries for her baby, for Rory, for Melody; for herself.
She stares at her reflection in the mirror, hands splayed over her flat stomach, and she whispers, I'm sorry.