Author's Note - thank you for the wonderful reviews! My blackmail seems to have worked! Maybe I shall try again. ;)

The Doctor registered Amy's absence in split second and in that time he was dashing across the platform and careening down the steps; realising too late that she had meant every word she'd said. However, as he reached the open door, it abruptly slammed shut in his face. There was a sickening crunch as he collided with the wood.

"No, no, no! Open this at once!" he yelled at the TARDIS, flailing his arms wildly.

There was an indignant grating sound.

"What do you mean you didn't do it? Of course you did! They're your doors!"

His time-ship hummed in reply.

"But if you really didn't do it then…." The Doctor's face grew slack. His hearts thudded to a halt. "Then Amy could be in terrible danger."

She'd moved very quickly through the dark streets of Leadworth, like a wily alley cat that knew all the shortcuts and back-passages. It didn't take her long to reach the house that she had called home for so many years of her life with its over-reaching gables, its tatty blue front door and creeping ivy. Was it still her home now? She wasn't sure. She also wasn't sure what the day was or the date. Was it the same day she left? Could it really be? The idea of time travel still freaked her out. How could she have lived so many months when Rory had not even aged a day? Glancing up at the windows she saw that all the lights were still off. No one was home. God, what if she had come back to a time that was entirely different? What if it was fifty years in the future? Anything could have happened in her absence. Rory would have probably moved on, married someone else. The thought made her sad but also strangely happy that he would still have the chance to live a full and conventional life. She'd mucked up so much of his life already with her obsession with the Doctor and her 'psychotic episodes' as the psychiatrists deemed them. Maybe he would, for once, be able to stop playing second fiddle.

Dropping heavily onto a low stone wall, Amy stared at her house a little longer and waited. If tonight truly was the night before her wedding then Rory would still be at his stag do, having a raucous time in the local pub with all his football team mates and his friends from the hospital. She remembered that his friend had printed up some daft red t-shirts with her and Rory's face on, entwined forever in a picture – in a tacky heart if she remembered. It made her heart ache to recall those simple things in life. Maybe the Doctor was right; maybe she didn't belong with him.

"Huuuuuurrrrrrrahhhhhh!"

Loud masculine voices suddenly filled the air accompanied by the stamping of heavy feet and bottles chinking.

"For 'e's a jolly good fellow, for 'e's a jolly good fellow and so say all of us!" The singing was deafening and painfully out of tune but none of the men seemed to mind as they staggered up the street, draped over one another.

Amy watched them progress, her pulse quickening. She rose off the stone wall and backed into the shadows.

"Once again?" someone with a deep, very drunken, voice roared, "For 'e's a jolly good fellow…."

"Pack it in, Tommo, people will be trying ter sleep. In fact, ain't your missus in that 'ouse, Ro-rry?"

"Yes, so shhhhh," a slighter figure said and giggled. Amy finally picked out her fiancé being practically carried by the two men either side of him. "Don't wanna wake her up 'fore the big day."

"Nah, come on, we're almost there." The man that spoke seemed much more sober than his friends and he took most of Rory's weight onto his shoulder. "Few steps should do it, mate."

"Urgh….I don't feel so good," Rory suddenly muttered. He threw himself to his knees beside the stone wall and proceeded to be violently sick against it. Amy shuddered each time he vomited.

"Eh….what do we do?" one man said scratching his head, awkwardly.

"It's alright, guys, I'll take it from here." Amy stepped out of the shadows and came to help her fallen fiancé, she carefully hid her baby bump with one arm but it wasn't really necessary considering the dark.

They all had varying degrees of shock and embarrassment on their face, like little boys caught in the wrong.

"Oh…Oh…hello Amy, we er….sorry….its…." they all mumbled, awkwardly.

Amy felt her lips curve into a half smile at their ineptitude. She should probably give them an escape route before they embarrassed themselves further. "It's fine. You guys can go now. I'll look after him."

They didn't need telling twice. The men scarpered down the street, moving as quickly as their ungainly, uncoordinated bodies would allow. Amy watched them go with amusement, especially as one weaved in and out of the dull orange glow of the streetlamp and promptly tripped over his own feet.

"Amy?" Rory's slur brought her back to reality. "Is tha' you?"

"Yes," she said, gently, stroking the back of his neck. "How are you feeling?"

"I've….I've been better," he mumbled, woozily. "Sorry, 'bout this…I didn't mean to drink so much but…you know…" He tailed off.

"Oh, I know what your friends are like. Frankly, I'm surprised you even made it home."

There was no reply and she realised that if she didn't start moving him into the house now then he would be passed out and she would never shift him.

"Hey, hey, wake up," she said, gently shaking him.

"Wha'?"

"Don't zonk out on me yet, you drunkard, I need to get you up to bed. You're gonna have to give me a hand though, I can't lift you on my own."

With some effort, she managed to coax Rory to his feet and control his wayward limbs, before guiding him slowly, step by wobbly step, to the front door. She grunted as she worked but it felt good to have someone to take care of, to be responsible for. She felt more in control when she was with Rory whereas with the Doctor she never completely had her balance.

"Come on, up the stairs," she said, softly.

"I don't wanna," Rory moaned, tiredly, dropping slowly towards the comfort of the floor.

"Whoa! Okay. Perhaps the stairs is a bit too much to ask," Amy yelped, trying to stop him collapsing completely. "Let's put you on the sofa instead."

Swiftly, she led the practically unconscious man to the tatty old green sofa in the living room and pushed him onto it. He fell in an awkward heap so she had to methodically rearrange his limbs until he was comfortable and safe – not in danger of falling onto the hard wooden floorboards. She found a blanket and dropped it over the top of him, carefully tucking in the edges.

"You alright now?" she asked, stroking his hair, "Not gonna be sick again?"

"N'aww," Rory murmured, staring up at her with big round eyes. He looked like a little boy. "I'm sorry, Amy, for this, so sorry. I won't ever drink again….I promise…cross….cross my heart." He haphazardly hit his chest. "You believe me don't you?"

"Yeah," Amy said, quietly, almost reluctantly as she gazed at what she could have had.

"G'night, Amy. Love you."

Slowly, she leant over and kissed him on the forehead.

"I love you too." She paused. "And I'm so, so sorry."

But Rory didn't hear her last words because sleep had overcome him and he was dead to the world. She brushed his fringe off his forehead with a small wistful sigh.

Amy sat with him for an hour, just stroking his hair, studying him and she found the longer she stared at him, the longer she saw him as this innocent little boy lost in his peaceful slumber. His face lost all its lines and all its tension – the lines and tension she caused – when he slept and she wanted him to stay like that forever, she wanted him to be happy. If she dropped her bombshell on him…well, she would destroy him, she would destroy this precious, precious man; one of the few genuinely good men left in the world. She couldn't do that. It would be cruel and selfish. If she took advantage of his big, generous heart and his unquestioning trust and loyalty then she would never forgive herself. Those were some of the things about him that attracted her to him in the first place. She couldn't manipulate them now. That just seemed so wrong.

And so, she would have to face this alone. She wouldn't burden anyone else. Not innocent Rory. Not the Doctor. She would handle this on her own, like she always had done. Nothing defeated Amy Pond.

She left a note. It seemed a pitiful way to sum up all the years they'd spent together, all the good times they'd shared; the laughter, the fun. However, she didn't think she could face him again in the morning. She would probably cave and take advantage of him. She wouldn't leave. And that couldn't happen.

In the note she told him that she loved him but that it wasn't the right kind of love. She told him that he was special and deserved better than her. She told him to move on. She desperately hoped he'd listen.

Quietly shutting the front door in her wake, Amy wandered aimlessly down the path and pondered upon exactly what she should do next. Where should she go? A bed and breakfast? A hotel? She didn't want to stay in Leadworth, that was for sure. In fact, she wanted to leave tonight. If she stuck around any longer then she would probably give up the idea of independence and go crawling back to Rory…or the Doctor.

Drawing in a deep steadying breath, she considered her options. She could take Rory's car. She could walk to the next town and catch a bus. She could…she could….well, actually, those were her only options. Eventually, she decided to walk. It wasn't far and Leadworth was hardly rife with criminals. She would be fine and the air would clear her head. Before she had left her home, she'd had the forethought to change into some warmer clothes. It had been difficult because of her large pregnancy bump but she'd found some old tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie that belonged to Rory. Now she didn't care what she looked like, why should she? There was no one to impress anymore. No one to care. The Doctor had made that perfectly, painfully clear.

As she scuffed along the bridal pathway along the riverbank – the river ran past the two villages and so would be a good route to follow so she wouldn't lose herself in the dark – a torch in one hand, Amy found herself awash with sadness, a sadness she couldn't shake. Everything she'd believed, everything she'd hoped for, it had all been for nothing. There would be no happy ending, no perfect little family. She realised now she'd been living in a fantasy world, a fairy tale. This was real life and as much as the Doctor's mad and exciting lifestyle seemed so detached from the real world, it wasn't. It was as cold and harsh as reality. She just wished she'd realised that before.

Unconsciously, Amy stroked her protruding abdomen, felt the kick of the baby beneath her fingers and had to firmly remind herself that she hadn't lost everything. In fact, she still had what was most important: her child. Her son was what would keep her going even when she was at her lowest. She loved him more than she thought humanly possible. Already she knew that she would lay down her life for him in a second. She wouldn't ever lose him.

A few stars winked at her from the velvety heavens and she let out a sigh because that was all they would ever be to her from now on, distant galaxies, not places she could visit at the drop of a hat. That life was over.

Amy's foot caught on a tough root that had spread across the path and she let out a yelp of surprise, falling to her knees. Her torch skittered away. The impact grazed the skin on her knees and palms and almost immediately she felt tears spring to her eyes. However, she hadn't fallen on her stomach so the baby was safe.

Whoosh.

Milliseconds after she'd tripped, she felt something whizz over her head.

"What the…?" she gasped, looking up to see something glinting in the moonlight.

It was a dart. A tranquiliser dart embedded in the hard bark of the tree that had moments ago felled her. Amy's heart quickened with realisation. Her eyes flashed upward and across the riverbank she caught sight of three figures, tall and ominous, but she couldn't see what they really looked like because her torch was gone. That dart had been meant for her! These men were attacking her.

Immediately, Amy was on her feet and running. It was hard going because her stomach was cumbersome and heavy and her path was lit only by the dim glow of the moon. In her peripherals, she was acutely aware of the men giving chase. They had no means to cross the river – it was too wide and there was no bridge – but they matched her stride for stride on the other bank. Tears were still streaming down Amy's face from when she had fallen and they fell thicker and faster when she truly realised the gravity of her situation; the sheer danger she was in.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she panted as she sprinted. "Please no, please no."

There was no way off the bridal path. To her right was the river, she could hear its rushing current as she ran, and to her left was a barbed wire fence behind which was a steep incline designed to stop the sheep escaping from the field above and ending up in the water. She was trapped and the only way was forward. All Amy could do was press on and hope. Vaguely, she could hear the figures shouting at one another but she couldn't hear what they were saying, in fact it may have been foreign; all she could hear was the whoosh of the wind and the roar of the river. Her breath was getting shorter. She wouldn't be able to keep this pace for much longer…there was no escape.

And then, suddenly, she placed her foot down and the ground gave way beneath it. With a strangled cry, Amy found herself plunging into the river. The coldness hit her like a battering ram and knocked the breath from her lungs immediately. Soon she was fully submerged in the dark raging water, her body being dragged along by the current like a rag doll. She tried to fight but she was so weak and the water was so cold and she didn't know which way was up. Her last thought was for her unborn son before she succumbed to the darkness…

On the bank, the three figures drew to an abrupt halt. Their quarry had vanished. They stood for a few minutes on the grassy verge, staring at the swirling torrent of water. There was no sign of life.

One of the figures murmured to the other two. They nodded in reply. It was over.

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