Owning Doctor Who would be cool, but sadly, I dont.

A woman in a brown skirt and blue shirt stepped out of the doorway. The wind softly blew through her bright red hair as she looked around the small courtyard. Seeing the bloodied man - and not to mention the smoking police box - sitting on top of her flowers made her scream.

"Rory!"

A slow, hazy, mist of thoughts and sounds floated through the Doctor's head.

"...understand. I thought..."

The voice was muffled. Though he could tell it was a woman. A soft light blurred on his eyes as he began to open them, blinking slowly. He hated it. He wanted to sleep more, just a little while longer. The pain in the back of his head returned, causing him to let out a small groan.

"Hey!" he heard a man whisper.

Sight now returned to him. The Doctor stared at a white ceiling. The room smelled like flowers. Like Roses. He immediately recalled the bed of flowers he had passed out on. His eyes shot open and he sat up and wildly looked around the room, completely ignoring the man at his side.

"Calm down, Doctor! Its all right, it's us!"

The man grabbed the Doctor's shoulders and calmly stared him in the eyes. The Timelord stopped his flailing and slowly turned to look at the man.

No.

Rory Williams stared back at him. Rory the Roman. The Last Centurion. A red haired woman stood behind him. Amelia Pond. The Girl Who Waited. Who waited for him.

"No," he whispered.

"What?"

"No!" The Doctor screamed. "I saw it! They're dead! This is sick! Just who do you think you are?!"

By now he was trying to get out of the bed he had been laying in.

"No- stop. Doctor, it's really us," the apparent Rory tried pushing him back onto the bed as he attempted to escape through the other side. The Doctor resisted by pushing the white sheet up with his feet and stumbled out of the bed. Dizzieness overtook him and he leaned against the wall.

"Doctor, you need to stay in bed. Your head-"

"Stay away!" he warned. The Timelord began pulling the pillows off the bed and throwing them at Fake?Rory as the man began walking around the bed to the other side where the Doctor was. If it not been for the Doctor's panicked state, the scene may have been almost, comical.

This is not possible. They have to be fakes. Clones, or- or duplicates or something, or Flesh. A nightmare? Or a dream?

His thoughts became more and more panicked when he realized there were no more pillows. He whipped his head around and his eyes landed on the side table. Grabbing a glass vase of roses, he raised it over his head, ready to toss it at the would-be Rory.

Fake?Rory jumped back, fearing the man would really throw it at him. At the same time the red-haired woman stepped forward.

"Raggedy man, stop!" she commanded.

Shocked by her sudden outburst, he lowered the vase and stared at her. It was her. It was Amy. His Amy. He knew it.

"Pond..."

"So, what year is it then?" The Doctor whispered quietly.

He had gotton back on the bed by now and was sitting cross-legged staring down at the sheets.

It was a nice room. Small, but nice. The dark wood floor contrasted well with the yellow walls. Amy sat in a wooden chair next to the bed, and Rory sat at the end of the bed. The windows were open a bit, letting a cool breeze drift through. He could see frost on the ground outside. It must be morning, he thought to himself.

"1941. February 17." Amy replied.

The silence was deafening. It has been nearly three years for the Ponds- no, the Williams. They practically had a different life. Who was he kidding. They had a new life.

Amy broke the silence. "I thought I was never going to see you again. That's what you said, that you would never be able to see me again."

He only glanced at her.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I am so happy to see you. But how are you here?"

He studied her. His Amelia Pond. Three years and she didn't look a day older. Her hair was cut to chin length, and she wore a vibrant blue shirt and baggy brown pants. 40s style, of course. Rory, he didn't look very different. Still had that nose of his. His hair was maybe a bit lighter. But then the Doctor saw his eyes- he really looked at him. They looked old. It almost frightened him at how old they looked. He wondered if they had always been that way, but he had just never paid them much attention. No. He would have noticed. He would have noticed because they reminded him of his own eyes.

"I have no idea Amelia," he whispered, still looking down at the sheets.

"But-"

"You're dead. Or at least, you were. Both of you. I saw your grave."

"Well, in my defense," Rory began, "I have been dead loads of times, and surprise! Not dead! Again."

The awkward silence filled the room once again. The Doctor's usual energetic self had gone.

"You gave us quite a scare, raggedy man. With all that smoke coming out of the TARDIS and all. Rory had to run down to the hospital and get oxygen for you."

"Ah yes, what are you two doing these days anyway?" He asked. Small talk. He hated it. It tasted horrible on his tounge.

"Well, I'm still a nurse. I work at the hospital one street over," Rory said.

"And I have become an editor," Amy said proudly. "And a writer."

His mind returned to the afterword written by Amy. Her final words to him. Not once had it mentioned him seeing them again. So then, was this a parallel world? Maybe an alternate reality or different timeline? He slapped himself in the face, making them jump again.

"Amy, have you been contacted by River at all?"

"What? No."

"All right then," He said, and in one swift movement, he pushed himself up and jumped to his feet. Rory jumped up with him, nurse training kicking in again. Now standing on the bed the Doctor continued. "I have many questions, and very little answers. One: How am I here? B, wait, no. Two: Why isn't there a hole in the universe right now? And Three: Amelia Pond, why do you have blue roses in your garden?"

Okay, so I did some research for this chapter, but it felt really hard to write. But I'm excited because I already have about half of chapter 3 written! :D

anyway, thanks for reading!

-Maris