A/N What is this? What the hell is this? This the lovechild of my iPod, 2:30 AM inspirations, and then 10:00 AM editing. I want to go back to bed, but people made me wake up after 4 and a half hours of sleep. So what do I do? Put up a one-shot that I obviously dedicated so much time to! Yes, that was my excuse for the possible confusing, run-on sentences. But, I kind of like it being confusing. That is how I like to write the eleventh Doctor! Right, I've decided to become a review whore, so please make my day? Critique would be lovely. Smiley Faces are fine! I just want to go into my inbox... yeah, I'm desperate. Sue me! Oh what can you do me?

Disclaimer: Rory was my favey-favorite! I wouldn't have so ruthlessly murdered him, unlike the owners of Doctor Who. So, in conclusion, I don't own this.

It had been a long and painful trip, and if he didn't get out of the TARDIS, he'd never get away from the memories at all. He didn't know where to go at first, but out of all the things weighting down his pockets, the key was lightest and floated into his fingers like Venus out of the sea. It had been a gift of trust, and he guided his ship outside the one-story home.

He opened the door, looking around the walls. There were monkeys, a blond child growing up fast along the parlor, whatever, he was only looking because Amy was dead and he wanted to be any where but home. His gaff, the room where he had shared all of his memories with a simple man, was better and was more comforting now than anyone or any room his ship expanded to. The room was empty, repainted pink, but it was also midday, so it was to be expected. He took off his coat and suspenders, only wearing the ring Rory had left behind for her on the tip of his pinky finger.

He didn't hold her hand.

That fact, more than any other, tore through him. He used to love holding hands and eating bananas and being human. But now he was an alien who couldn't cry, could only watch from a distance and try to relate to the pain.

Sleep was a foreign topic, but he was a fast learner. He dreamed of Amy in the Trojan Gardens, with Vincent and all the ginger hair he loved so much. Amelia Pond was a great name with a great accent and spirit and he abandoned her for twelve years and then two and then for forever. If she was yelling at him, she could kiss him between rants and be Amy and fantastic (no, that was Rose) and important (She couldn't be – that was Donna).

He probably had four hours of sleep before a man came and shook him awake. "I'm sorry, but this is my daughter's room. You're going to have to leave."

The Doctor tried to be cheerful, but ended up grouchy. "I have the key here, see? Craig gave it to me, he was alright with me coming back. You should, too."

"Doctor!" Craig shouted, and bleary eyed, the Doctor looked up at the mysterious trio above him. The two oldest were definitely Craig and Sophie. However, t he girl behind them was most definitely their daughter. Wearing curly, blond hair, she was just too familiar for his good. And she was staring quite hungrily, just like a Pond and a River, at the Doctor while behind her parents.

They offered him some tea, and he hoped he still liked tea after his past love of all of the synapses and tannins Jackie had provided for him after these years. The taste had to age in his mouth a bit, and with a deliberate dramatic flair, he spit it back in the sink where it belonged. "Damn it!"

"Do you want to do the head bump again?" Craig offered, and the Doctor shook his head. "Is Amy alright?"

Amy wasn't alright, she was in the void and lost forever, just like Rose. However, Amy was going mad again, just because of him again. He didn't like doing these things to his girls - forcing them to kill and sacrifice their minds for him. It just happened. That's why he liked Rory. He didn't have to ask for the martyrdom. All on his own, Rory gave up his life.

The Doctor shook his head. "Did you ever get to the monkeys?" He knew they did, but needed a distraction, begged for one. Without pause, he continued. Amy kept following the sound of his voice (she couldn't open her eyes). "What's your daughter's name? She looks familiar, is she going to be famous?"

"I'm River Song Owens." River smiled, "And I'm studying to become an archaeologist. I hope I become famous, because knowing you I probably do something either horrible or utterly fantastic."

He didn't want to deal with this because he could hear Amy dancing about, singing wedding songs and dangling the ring he told Amy was for River. "I knew it." She cried and tried to kiss him again. "Can I be the mistress?" Pressed up against him, she almost got him to comply half the time because he remembered shocks. And he always refused her because he adores Rory, even if he did never exist. Besides, the Doctor was a married man himself.

"Excuse me," He almost left, but not without thanking them all with a kiss on the lips. "River, do you want to travel with me? I'll have you back by curfew." She barely had space to breathe, let alone disagree. Suddenly, he was off and she chased after him, because it was better to fill his life with distractions than think.

He did it with Donna, he did it after Rose. Now that Amy was gone, he needed to get her off of his back so he could run faster, breathe better and dream without guilt. The ring on his finger slipped off his pinky, and she picked it off the floor. "It fits me!" She declared, "Now, sweetheart, where are you going to take me?"

It had fit Amy better.