Amy was bored. After making the decision to follow and find the Doctor, and quickly getting absolutely nowhere, she realised just how boring the island was. As a resort for couples, the island was catered for people looking to spend 'quality time' together, but seeing as her one friend left in the universe had decidedly vanished on her, she couldn't do that. She could've gone to some bars, a club, maybe, but knew that it would be very unlikely to find the Doctor there; plus, after the disaster that was the night before, she decided that perhaps it would be best to stay away from that district.

The problem was, Amy had gotten used to a certain way of living since being with the Doctor. It was either running from aliens, fighting aliens, a constant adrenalin rush, or occasional peaceful trips. Both of these usually involved the Doctor in some way, she was rarely on her own, so being cut off from him, in a planet with very little to do, was boring, like the Doctor had said it was.

After a few hours of pointless searching, she took a break and went to the beach. After simply standing in the sand for a few minutes, she forced herself to move forwards and into the water, to take a swim. She left her sarong and bag hidden by a dune on the sand, praying it wouldn't get swallowed, or whatever it was that the automatic sands did, and stepped into the ocean.

It was deliciously warm, which came as a shock to her. The few beach holidays that she had been on as a child with her aunt had only been to British beaches; cold, uncomfortable British beaches. They had rarely been sandy, and the sea had always been cold, cold enough to run back from the water, even on a deceptively warm day. Those beaches were a far cry from the one she was now standing on now.

She smiled as she walked further into the water, enjoying as the warm liquid rose further up her thighs, over her belly and right up her chest. If the Doctor wanted to play this game, then fine, he could go off and do his own thing. She would catch him later.

The Doctor paced back and forth behind the hotel, pondering the situation. He had a few hours at most to figure out an answer for her, besides the obvious one, of course.

"Not that there is an obvious answer," The Doctor told himself. "Not that one. That one is not obvious. And it's not the explanation either. Shut up."

He pushed the thought out of his mind.

He couldn't have saved Rory. No matter what happened, he would still have died.

Well, that was also a lie. "No, not also. There is no also. To be 'also a lie', there would have to have been a first lie."

Anyway, that was a lie. If the Doctor hadn't chosen to stick his hand in the crack, they would've gotten into the TARDIS in time, and Rory would still be here. But that wasn't a factor in the equation. There was no way he could have prevented it. Full stop.

But... he could've pulled Rory away from the crack, before it spread round him, right? That was the bit that Amy was annoyed about.

He remembered her yelling the night before. Okay, maybe a bit more than annoyed.

But yes, he could have saved his body, his existence! Amy would've remembered her fiancé. She would've been sad, a situation that upset him too, but she was sad right now anyway. Her sadness was unavoidable.

He huffed in annoyance. It was for situations such as this that he liked to have someone around, to bounce ideas off of, to help him figure out the answer. Of course, he couldn't do that.

He forced himself to consider all possible reasons.

Shock: He could've been too shocked at the turn of events to act in time. A likely possibility... Very rarely did the people he travel with actually die, they would be forced to leave in one way or another, but still alive, usually. To see someone he considered a friend dying... Was hard.

Malice: Had the Doctor held some sort of grudge against Rory, that he would want him erased for? Jealousy? – "NO!" Yelped the Doctor, forcing himself off of that route again. He was not jealous of Rory, not even a little bit. And even if he had been, he wouldn't have hurt him for it. Never. That was a ridiculous solution, and completely untrue.

He hated doing this, he hated second guessing himself, replaying the what if's and never where's of his life. Things happened, and people move on. He forced himself not to think about the exact happenings of Rory's death, instead focusing on the present, on Amy, but right now he looked back.

Closing his eyes, he pushed back into his memories, back and back and back until he hit the scene. He had just been shot. Amy told him to take Rory on the TARDIS, but the Doctor didn't.

"There wasn't time..." He murmured to himself. There hadn't been time. He had known that if he took him onto the TARDIS, he would rob Amy of precious last seconds with him. And by the time Rory had died, the light was already at his feet, consuming him.

There simply hadn't been time. There was no use second guessing himself, there had been no way to predict what would happen, he thought they were safe to wait a minute.

He had made a mistake, and Amy had been hurt, was hurting.

He had to step up and take responsibility, to apologise.

He needed to talk to Amy.

Another two chapters smushed together. I seem to be writing faster, I'm quite enjoying this part, especially where it's leading to... :D