So... I've kind of finished this story! Yay, I know! Read on, m'dears...

I woke up with a head-ache again. This was happening too many times. I didn't really like it, but then again, I didn't really like coming back to a cold home every evening. I went through my usual morning rituals in a haze of throbbing pain.

When I stumbled down the stairs, I found my Lord and Master sitting at the table, scowling over his bowl of cereal. Resisting the urge to slap that sanctimonious look off his face, I got my own bowl.

I sat down opposite him and dunked my spoon into the bowl. Before the first spoonful had even reached my mouth, however, he just had to say something. "Had a nice time last night?"

I let my spoon clatter into the bowl, milk splattering around. "For God's sake, Rory," I growled, burying my face in my hands. "I've just woken up and my head's killing me. Don't start."

He didn't start. He let his own spoon drop into the bowl, breakfast half-finished, and stood up abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor. I winced at the screech.

"I won't be in tonight so have someone wait around to help you open the door when you come back."

My nostrils flared at his taunt but I managed to ask, "Why won't you be home tonight? You don't have a shift."

"Worried I'll do some partying of my own? Oh, what's that, your husband has a life that doesn't revolve around you? Shocking!"

"Just answer the damn question, Rory."

He shrugged. "You never do."

I snorted. "Is that what it is, then? Some kind of childish grudge? 'I won't do it because you won't'?"

He turned to me, his eyes narrowed. "If you really think that, Amy, then you're stupider than I thought you were."

Oh no he didn't.

"Stupid? That's why you hate me modelling, then? Because it's for stupid people?" I laughed harshly. "What, it's not intellectual enough to rise to a nurse's standards?"

He grit his teeth. "I don't really think there's any intellect involved in a job that requires nothing more than posing for a camera."

"Oh-ho, you're dissing the job very easily now, but when it brought in some tidy money on the side you had nothing to say!"

"That's exactly my point, Amy!" His voice was finally raised and I felt some weird, twisted satisfaction in having made him shout. "It was 'on the side', it was always 'on the side' before you had to go and make it your career!"

"And why the hell shouldn't I make it my career?" I yelled back. I had some good strong vocal chords of my own, thank you very much. "Why the hell shouldn't I do what I want with my career and why can't you be supportive about it?"

"Because I can't –I cannot support you in good conscience!" His voice lowered again, but was still trembling with emotion. "This stuff –all this stuff that you're doing 'for a career', Amy, let me tell you, is utter and absolute bullshit."

I scoffed, "And you wonder why I don't come home in the evening and why I don't tell you work stories anymore? Why should I even bother when you've obviously formed a judgement on me like the sanctimonious arse that you are?"

"Oh, right, right. Try and point you in the right direction and I'm sanctimonious. Try and make you come home to me and I'm a bore, the ole' ball and chain. Try and warn you and I'm paranoid. Right, it makes perfect sense."

"Oh please, don't even get me started on your ridiculous paranoia and your crazy jealous delusions."

For a second, he looked livid, so dangerously angry that I unconsciously leaned back in my chair. Then the moment passed –he was again stupid Rory with his stupid, jealous, unreasonable, unsupportive face. "Right, so you grinding on the dance floor with Andy was a delusion, of course it was, how silly of me!"

"For the last time, Rory, I was dancing with Mattie and I didn't notice Andy join us! I was doing nothing wrong!" –I snapped.

"Of course not." His sarcastic voice seemed to grate in my ears. "You're perfect, chaste, pure Amy Pond. You do no wrong."

I shot to my feet and the chair skidded back several feet. "How dare you," I wheezed, my head throbbing harder than ever, the pain nearly blinding me. "How dare you accuse me of something like that? Is that what you really think I'm doing? Boozing and partying and sleeping around?"

To my horror, he shrugged. He thought –he really thought I'd do that? That, of all things, I'd cheat on him? "It seems to be the M.O. of all your 'work-friends'," he muttered, twerking his fingers in air-quotes. I had a sudden urge to snap his fingers in half.

"Yeah, well, it's not mine!"

"Good to know." He placed a hand on his chest and looked at me with mock gratitude. For a moment I was speechless. Who was this man? Who was this cold, painfully sarcastic, violently distrustful man? What had he done to my beautiful Rory?

The silence was oppressive and the jangle of the keys he snatched from the table was very loud. "I'm going over to Pete and Billie's. If you can't get me on the mobile, call Billie."

"Why her?" –I blurted. He looked at me, and I knew then that he had misunderstood. "Oh, I'm having a secret affair with her, didn't you know?" He rolled his eyes and my fingers curled into fists. "Why do you think? I'm babysitting Johnnie."

Anger made my words lucid again. "We're not finished here, Rory."

He rolled his eyes again in a sort of 'what now' gesture. "Alright, but make it quick."

"Johnnie can wait."

"Yeah, but," he raised both his hands as though weighing something in each of them, "Fun little kid and some Cluedo versus angry, entitled wife… I'm going for Cluedo."

"So you'd choose some kid over me?" –I was suddenly yelling again, but the words sounded ridiculous even to myself. Surprisingly, he didn't seem to think so. He furiously gestured to all of me as he yelled-

"Any kid is better than you, Amy!"

A split second of silence passed. His words echoed all around me and within me.

Then something seemed to snap in my brain.

"Out."

"What?"

"Get out of my house."

"What?"

I was screeching now. "Get the fuck out of my house, Rory! GET OUT!"

I think what Rory did next really sealed it for me. It was his reaction to that that hardened me against him, that led me through the divorce proceedings almost painlessly.

"Fine." He didn't look furious or sad. He just seemed… relieved. Like the words 'about time' were unspoken, but implied.

I told him I hated him as he left. He took that in with the same cold acceptance. I meant it, anyway. I knew, for certain, that at that moment I hated him more than I had ever hated anyone in the entire universe, including Madame Kovarian.

And I hated him so much, so very much, simply because I still loved him.