All she wants is to never return home, ever.
They, she and her Raggedy Doctor, are sitting at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the city full of bright lights that lies beneath them. Those bright bright lights, they should be hurting her eyes with all their intensity but they don't. He says it's normal, these lights' sources aren't electricity but a special sort of diamond found only in this planet's mines. In contrast to the length of its name, is a small planet, but this is the most peaceful time they've had together so she's not complaining. And the sight is astonishingly stunning, it really is. She never knew she'd find city lights, however bright they are, so bloody beautiful.
"Yes, it is."
Amy tilts her head up and meets the Doctor's amused gaze.
Did she say that out loud?
"Yes, you did."
She rolls her eyes at the sight of his hearty grin and turns them back to the scenery. She can still feel eyes on herself, though, probably the Doctor's. She bits her lip, her mind suddenly alert with the question that comes out of nowhere. Hesitantly, she asks.
"Doctor?"
"Yes, Amy?"
"Is there any- I don't mean to accuse you, but is there anything you aren't telling me? Because I feel like I forgot something terribly important and there's this nagging voice in my head that keeps-Doctor, you okay?"
He seems frozen and doesn't answer her query at first, but then gazes at with her an all too familiar, all too blinding grin.
"Sure I am, Amy, just forgot you were here for a moment. Haven't been here for a long time, is all. What were you saying again?"
Her smile can pass for a natural, easy smile but her eyes betray her.
"N-Nothing. Just rambling, you know me, rambling Amy."
His grin doesn't waver. Neither does her smile. They keep staring at each other, an awkwardness finding its way and creeping in between them. Amy curses herself inwardly, she is to blame here. Why'd she ask a question like that? Where did that come from? And really, that was a rather silly question, considering the fact that in spite of his incessant chattering melting her ears off all day long, he never divulged anything of personal value to her unless she herself found out or it was necessary to survive another of their adventures. So why'd she expect him to tell her now of all times? Was the sight before her affecting her judgment? Why ask questions she wouldn't find the answers to?
"Is there something you want me to answer, Amy?" He says gently after a minute that feels like an eternity finally passes.
She gulps down a particularly nasty-tasting juice the Doctor gave her to avoid the high radiation rate of this planet. It doesn't help much, gives her a few seconds to compose a reply, but better than nothing.
"I was asking- See, I have this weird feeling that I'm forgetting something, Doctor. I, honestly, I don't know why, it's just this little nagging voice driving me crazy at the most inappropriate times. Anything you know to, um, quell this thing? I mean, I'm not going mental, right? Not that I'm not used to mental, spending two minutes with you is enough to make a girl go mad, but I don't mean it that way, you know, I-"
"I get it, Amy." He gently pulls her hand from where it rests and covers it with both his unnaturally warm hands.
"Yeah, you do, of course you do." Her chest heaves with a sigh and she closes her eyes for a second; thus, she doesn't see the miserable look in her precious Doctor's eyes nor does she witness the clench of his jaw. He is glad of it, this small moment of privacy during which he can berate himself for yet another life lost-more bloodstain on his ever-tainted hands.
They sit there, silent and unmoving, lost in their own individual thoughts, mourning something (someone) Amy (the Doctor) doesn't (wishes he didn't) know (remember), for what seems like forever, blinded by the bright bright lights of this chilly, hauntingly beautiful planet.