"Rory!" Amy bellows as she throws open the front door.
"What?" Rory calls, running down the stairs.
"Are you alright?" he adds.
"No!" she yells.
"What's wrong?" Rory asks, cautiously.
"You're not going to believe this," Amy says, "I'm pregnant."
"But you can't be," Rory says, "Whatever Madam Kovarian did to you..." he starts.
"I know, I know," Amy says, "I think I remember it better than you do, okay?"
"But are you sure, really?" Rory asks.
"I've just been to the Doctors," Amy says, "It's true."
Rory throws his arms around her, twirling her around. "I can't believe it," he says, "It's a miracle."
"I know!" Amy squeals, "It's almost like it was meant to be here, this time, this place."
"Like it didn't happen in our time for a reason," she adds.
"I thought it was too late," Rory says, "That we wouldn't get a chance."
"Me too," Amy says, "It's like a dream."
"We should start thinking about names," Rory says.
"I have a few that I'm toying around with," Amy says.
"Vincent, for a boy," she says, "For Van Gogh."
"Brilliant," Rory says, "I always wanted to name a son after my dad, after all he's done for me, for us."
"What about Vincent Brian?" he adds.
"Brian Vincent Williams," Amy says, rearranging his suggestion, "That would do."
Rory silently celebrates, finally getting his way with something. "What about a girl?" Rory asks.
"We could do Florence," Amy says, "Or Catherine."
"Ugh," Rory groans, "Let's just hope it's a boy then."
"Hey!" Amy says, "When you have to give birth you choose the name!"
They laugh and Rory says, "I've got some news as well."
"I'm being transferred to a regular hospital," he adds, "One that's closer too."
"That's great!" Amy says with all the excitement for him that she can muster.
"Ill be getting a pay raise too," he says, "We'll need it with the little one, eh?"
He reaches down and touches her tummy, though it's too early for her to be showing yet. Amy smiles, finally coming into her own since they've settled in. Though she has friends and often spends her nights and weekends with them, she missed River. She's ecstatic, finally getting the opportunity to raise her own child. They way it should've always been.
"I wonder if the Doctor knows," Rory says six months later, "About the baby."
"He must," Amy says, "I'm sure he's scouring history, seeing what we've gotten ourselves into."
"I just wish River were here, you know?" Amy says, "To meet her sister or brother."
She pats her large stomach affectionately. "You're almost ready to pop," Rory says, "It'll be only weeks now."
"Still haven't agreed on a name," she says rolling her eyes.
"What about Dorothy?" Rory suggests.
"Ugh," Amy groans, "Too Wizard of Oz."
"Judith?" he offers.
"Too old lady," she shoots him down.
"You do know it's not the 21st century, Amy," Rory reminds her, "You can't name her Brooklyn or something."
"Why can't I?" Amy asks, "I can name her anything I want."
"So you're saying it's a girl?" Rory asks, jokingly, smiling.
"You know I don't know," Amy says.
"What about Karen?" Rory suggests.
"That one I like," Amy says, "But not for our baby."
Rory rolls his eyes, "You're hopeless."
A month and three days later, on September 21st, 1943, Brian Vincent Williams was welcomed into the world at 11:11 in the morning. He had beautiful porcelain skin, blue eyes, and a thin patch of his mother's red hair.
"Ginger," Rory breathes as he holds his son for the first time.
"I'm glad we didn't name him Vincent," he adds, "People would've tortured him."
"I'm just glad it wasn't a girl," Amy says, relieved, "We would've been picking names out of a hat at this point."
Rory laughs and hands Brian to her. "You're beautiful," she whispers, "Perfect."
Two days later Amy and Rory bring him home from the hospital. "Haven't you got any more diapers?" she asks.
"I haven't done the laundry yet," Rory says, "I'm sorry."
"What the hell are we supposed to do then?" Amy says, "Go do the laundry."
"Now!" she orders.
"Yes, ma'am," Rory says, taking the dirty cloth diapers with him.
Not only were Rory and Amy new parents, but they were alone. They didn't have their parents to help them. They didn't have single use store-bought diapers. They had to do everything the hard way. "Would it kill them to invent throw away ones a bit early?" Rory asks sarcastically, reentering the nursery.
"I can see what my parents mean about children," Amy says, "It's hard."
"What did you think, Amy, it was going to be happy fun time?" Rory says, annoyed.
"Lots of attitude for you today," Amy says, "And I'm supposed to be the hormonal one."
"I'm sorry," Rory says, "I'm just worn out."
"We'll work into a routine, don't worry," Amy says, "Just because something's hard doesn't mean it's not fun or worthwhile."
"It's just new," she adds.
A few nights later Amy puts Brian to sleep in the bassinet in their room as she usually does. She smiles down at him, gives him a good rock, and then jumps onto the bed.
"I think he'd do fine in his nursery now, Amy," Rory says, climbing into bed beside her.
"Just not yet," Amy says, "I'm not ready."
"But it's just next door," Rory says, "It's not like anything's going to happen to him."
"What if it did?" Amy says, turning to her husband.
"Oh, Amy," Rory says, "What happened with Melody was different. Brian's not Time Lord."
"But what if he is?" Amy says, "That there's some sort of time particle inside me or something."
"You have no idea how ridiculous you sound," Rory says.
"Shut up," Amy says, hitting him with a pillow.
"I just can't bear to see that happen twice," Amy says.
"I understand," Rory says, "Whenever you're ready."
It was spring before Amy left Brian in his room by himself. In the first week she did she slept on the floor beside his crib, watching, listening. Only after days of persuasion did she go back to her own bedroom.