The Doctor poked his head from out of the TARDIS's doorway.
"Looks green and wet. Are you sure you want to visit, Amy?"
Amy emerged from behind the Doctor, smiling gleefully.
"Anywhere is better than Nankatar, Doctor. I had to wear a bikini in the shade! It's unnatural."
She walked further, looking around at the towering trees, purple and blue-leafed, with sunlight filtering weakly through their thick boughs. There were yellow and red flowers as tall as the Doctor scattered about, and moist, spongy ground the color of Earth-grass. Amy sighed happily.
The Doctor watched from the door of his TARDIS, ready to paste on a smile if she turned around. When she walked out of sight, he breathed a sigh of relief. The last few days had been a nightmare, after Rory had died. The Doctor found it hard to believe that Amy had forgotten him so easily. They were going to be married, after all! Seems like you wouldn't forget true love...
But, he supposed, the fabric of the universe could overcome love. And for once, horrible temporal rips and rifts might have put something in his favour...He shook his head furiously, trying to push away any thoughts of him and Amy. His Amy.
It wasn't fair, he thought furiously to himself as he followed Amy. Rory seemed to be very dead, and very gone, and very forgotten. So what was the problem? Why couldn't he try his luck at courting the beautiful, fiery, Scottish girl without feeling terribly guilty?
Once again, the universe was conspiring against him, in the form of making sure he had no discernible love life. Oh, duplicate Doctors could be happy, could go live with Rose and have nine children and live to be a hundred. But could normal Doctors? No, of course not.
His previous incarnation would've jumped into the Master's arms quite willingly, but he'd had to lose the Master not once, but twice. And even after that, he could've loved Jack, despite the wrongness that the man exuded. But Jack had other plans, so the Doctor had let go of that too. And now, he had Amy, and the damn guilt he was feeling made it impossible to act on his love!
The Doctor almost walked straight into Amy's back, so caught up in his own thoughts was he.
"Pond?" he said, peering around her to see what it was that held her gaze.
"Crikey!" The Doctor jumped in surprise. The biggest bullfrog he'd ever seen was sitting on a rock in front of Amy. It was probably twice the size of his head, and bright blue to boot.
"It's staring straight at me, Doctor." Amy said, sounded a little frightened.
"Just back away slowly, and, err, don't break eye contact. Or maybe you should, I can never remember."
"Oh, a fat lot of good that is," Amy replied in annoyance, as she started to walk backwards. The Doctor gently took her arm to guide her around the rocks and huge flowers and what-not. By the time he reached the TARDIS he didn't want to let go.
"Doctor?"
"Hmm?"
"You've got my arm,"
"So I have, Pond, so I have. I'll just be giving that back to you, then..."
He escaped into the TARDIS, ears feeling like they were on fire. Nine hundred years, and it never seemed to get easier. Maybe it hadn't been guilt holding him back, maybe it was his own dignity.
"Doctor, what's this?"
Amy walked in, holding a familiar little box...Oh God no, please God no...
"Is this yours? Who are you proposing to?"
He gulped.
"Where'd you find that?"
"It fell out of your pocket when you ran in here, you sort of jostled against the door. And nice dodging, but you still haven't answered my question. Who's it for?"
Now she was going to remember Rory, and his chance would be gone forever because she'd mourn him for forty years, or insist that they go rescue him and get themselves killed in the process, or...A tiny voice whispered in his head, 'You don't have to lose this one, you know. It's your turn to be happy."
In the split second before he could change his mind, the Doctor blurted "You!"
"Me?" Amy looked suspicious, and happy, at the same time. Hope bristled in the Doctor's chest.
"I picked it up awhile ago, when you weren't looking." The Doctor lied, feeling a tiny flash of guilt, but he ignored it.
"So are you proposing?"
"Well," the Doctor would've wanted more time and a more romantic place than the control room of the TARDIS, but dash it all, because he can see a sunrise in sight.
"Yes, absolutely." He lifted the box out of her hand, went down on one knee.
"Amelia Pond, will you marry me?"
"Hmm." Her eyebrows raised and she grinned. "Would I be Amelia Doctor? Mrs. The Doctor?"
"Only if you want to be," he answered, and then his heart soared as she smiled happily.
"Yes! I thought you'd never ask..."
In the ensuing lightness and chatter about weddings and celebratory jammy dodgers, the Doctor felt a twinge of guilt. But only a twinge.
