Life in New York in 1938 was rubbish.

The Great Depression was in full swing, Hitler was in power (not that Amy was worried personally, knowing how Rory had once dealt with him) and the second World War was just up and coming.

It wasn't that she hated the U.S. She didn't mind it at all; it just wasn't home.

Amy never said as much, but as much as she missed home, she knew being back in England would be worse. She would recognize places she'd been, but all the people would be different. No one there would know her face. No shop windows or neighborhood would look as they did in her memories.

That was the worst of it; not having anyone. She missed her family, her friends. She missed the Doctor. The adventures she could live with out, but life without the Doctor was...unthinkable. Until it became her reality. Then everything just sort of clicked. She felt lonely, sad, even angry sometimes. Why, of all the battles the Doctor had fought, did this have to be the one he lost?

Granted, she was slowly accepting and adapting. Despite their struggles, Rory and she were making a life for themselves. Hard as it was, Rory got a job as a nurse, Amy as a reporter for the Times. Not anything big, just small bits here and there. Nobody they met minded much about their accents. During the day she hardly noticed anything was wrong. She'd go to work, lose herself in it and her new friends. In the evening she and Rory would spend time together, talk, watch the telly, go out and wander about the town.

It was the nighttime that afflicted her the most. That was when the Angels appeared, and the Cybermen would advance, the Silence would slink towards her and astronauts would rise up and shoot down the ones she loved.

Many years later, after she and Rory had settled down, learned to love their life, and adopted their son the dreams still came, but they were muted by time.

Time was still a funny thing for Amy. Even mention of the word brought a faint pang of longing and a muffled clench to her heart. When she lived with the Doctor, or in her True Time, she had always preferred a digital clock. Ever since getting stuck in 1938, though, she had come to love the tick of the analog clock (which was good, since she didn't have much choice in the matter either way, anymore). The ticking always reminded her that, somewhere, the Doctor was out there, just as he always was. Plus, the Doctor had always worn an analog watch. It was his way of reminding himself that time was always passing, fleeting. It was his reminder to keep up his search to see all that he could.

Just as she always had since their arrival in New York, Amy fell asleep to the sound of time passing, her forehead resting on the top Rory's shoulder. She dreamed of one thing that night. But, unlike the other fleeting horrors of her nightmares. This would remain burned into her memory forever.

It began with the Doctor's voice, bright as usual, with an undercurrent of melancholy. "Course you do, Pond. And you always get what you want." Even in her sleep she had the sense to think, "Well then, how did I end up here, helpless and almost virtually alone?!"

The dream continued on, leaving her question unanswered. The Doctor stood in the TARDIS, just as he did when she had traveled with him: comfortably, as if there were no other place more familiar to him. Though the Doctor had gone almost completely unchanged (minus a costume change) the TARDIS was almost completely unrecognizable. It was cold, stark, and had a very get-down-to-business feel. Amy's TARDIS, the one of her memories and dreams had been, to her, warm, inviting, safe.

The Doctor stood alone, but his eyes seemed to follow something she could not see. "Amelia?" He asked. His voice was full of hope and sorrow all at once. Amy's dream consciousness began to sob. She knew the Doctor couldn't hear her, but all the same she cried , "Doctor! Doctor, It's me, it's Amy. Amelia."

Without knowing how, she sensed that he was dying. She knew he would die very soon and she knew there was nothing she nor anyone else could do to stop it. No. NO! Her consciousness screamed.

"Doctor!" Almost as if he were answering her he called again, "Amelia." He looked so happy, despite it all. A sound like static on a radio shifted all about. She couldn't remember if it had been there the whole time, or if it had just started. Above the noise, words echoed through the air. His words. "There is a time to live and a time to sleep."

She tried so hard to bethere. She tried to be where he was, with him to the end, just as he was for her. She looked down on the Doctor. She gasped in awe. He was looking at her. Straight at her. Once more, "Amelia." Another echo surged to the forefront of the ever growing white static noises. "I always see you... I'll always remember..."

Trembling, she walked down the stairs, her hands on the railing. Her childhood drawings, memories of another timeline, one with a different past and a different future were splayed about. She reached the bottom of the stairs, and stopped right in front of him. For the first time in forever, she was close enough to touch him. When she reached out, she touched his face. She was so pleased to be able to feel him, to be near him, she smiled. "Raggety Man." Again, the echo, "There is a time to sleep." She swallowed against the knot in her throat. His eyes looked upon her warmly. He was smiling. Remembering Fish fingers and Custard, the Tower of London, River, and all their adventures she smiled too. "Goodnight."

She was given no time to relish the sweet parting, the good memories. She awoke. She lay there, awake and crying, knowing she had truly seen the Doctor for the last time.

Through her tears she looked over at her clock just in time to see it strike twelve.