AN: Thanks so much for all of the views! Hope you enjoy this chapter.
A couple of weeks went by, and Rory didn't detect any more suspicious behavior from Amy. His job at the local hospital was going fine. Well, as fine as it could, in the aftermath of a war.
It was June 26, and, to celebrate their wedding anniversary, Rory bought Amy a typewriter. "For you to write all of your Opinion articles on," he said, smiling.
Amy looked at it with determination. "Oh, I'm putting this to a much better use than opinion articles." She smiled. "I'm going to write a detective novel."
And that was the last Rory saw of her for a few days.
She stayed in the sewing room, mostly. Rory assumed that she ate when he was at work. On Day 4, however, Rory wanted to see her.
He knocked twice.
Nothing.
Twice again.
"Come in."
Rory entered to see the room scattered with paper. The bin was full of crumpled up papers, and Amy had a stack of typed pages next to her on the desk.
"Can I?" Rory gestured to the pile. Amy nodded, not looking up from her work.
He picked it up. "Melody Malone, sole owner and employee of the Angel Detective Agency. Also know as the detective that investigates angels." Rory shook his head. "When is this thing set?"
"1938." Amy didn't look up from her typewriter.
"But that's the same year as…"
"Well, what do you think this novel is about?"
"So where is this Melody Malone in your dream?"
"She's River Song. Figured I'd change the name to avoid confrontation."
"Amy, you do know that River Song isn't real, right? We… don't have children."
"Yeah, we do." Amy stopped typing and stood up. "I gave birth to her."
"Amy, you…" Rory took a deep breath. "We've tried, remember? It didn't work."
"Yeah, well, maybe YOU don't remember her, but I do."
"All right. Well, I'm just going to, erm, leave you to your thoughts." Rory slowly backed out of the room and shut the door behind him.
I'll give it a few more weeks. See if she wants to publish the book. See if she still believes that this actually happened. See if it's just a coping mechanism for Luke… Rory jumped out of his thoughts. Luke!
He burst open the door. Amy was barely perturbed by it, and continued typing.
"Amy, do you remember, Luke? Your brother?"
"No. I don't have brothers. Or sisters."
"But this is Luke we're talking about. Do you remember anything?"
"I don't know who Luke is." Amy looked Rory straight in the face. "I'm sorry, but I don't."
"He died, Amy. He died in the war."
"I'm sorry for this Luke and his family, but I don't know him."
"Okay. Good luck writing." Rory left for the kitchen and made himself tea.
He had only just set his tea down when Amy came running into the room. "I remember him. I remember Luke. My brother. We lived with my aunt. He went off to war the second it started. And he… died last year."
Rory was relieved. "Good, I thought you'd forgotten for a second."
"Me too." Amy truly laughed for the first time in a week or so. "I'm writing this book. Not exactly sure where I got the idea from, though."
It was a mad world.
