If you guys hadn't noticed, the series six premiere hit me pretty darn hard. (I've drawn one picture, am working on another, and written two fics based off of the Doctor's death, and it's only Monday). That being said, it gave me so much angst to let out in my writing, so I apologize.

This story is assuming that things don't get resolved after the second half of the premire.

Even though he was alive, Amelia had nightmares for weeks.

She would wake up in the middle of the night, dry sobs wracking her body that woke Rory before she even became conscious and he would hold her, silently stroking her hair because he knew why she was crying and that there was nothing he could say that would make it better.

Because he was 909, and had only 194 years left to live.

And no matter how Amy tried to think about it, one thousand, one hundred and three years was not a fraction of enough time for such a man as the Doctor to be alive.

Amy would watch him fall, and no matter how she struggled she couldn't get to him in time. Sometimes it would be River and Rory holding her back, just like before, but sometimes it would be a faceless force, a nameless evil keeping her from her raggedy Doctor as he breathed his last. Sometimes she would watch him go towards the astronaut, like a gentle lamb to the slaughter and she would shout for him to stop, to come back, but the words would die in her mouth.

And when she would wake up her pillow and Rory's shirt would be soaked in tears. She would lay awake for hours after that, clinging to Rory's chest, her hand fisted in the damp fabric of his worn T-shirt, her head resting where she could hear his heartbeat. His arms would encircle her and give her all the comfort he could. She would lay staring ahead so the haunting images of her dead Doctor wouldn't invade her mind when her eyes were closed and count Rory's heartbeats, terrified that there wouldn't be another beat to follow after.

Terrified of the silence that had gripped the Doctor's body back on the sands.

Sometimes, when she was alone, she would stand in the doorway to the console room, just watching the Doctor as he moved and worked and lived. She would watch the bobbing of his head and the impatient swipe of his hand when his hair got in the way as he darted around the console, tirelessly fiddling and adjusting and tweaking. She would notice the way that his eyes lit up when he discovered something new that he would certainly have to broadcast to them later, watch how his brow puckered when he became frustrated if he found one drop of custard on his zig-zag plotter. She would become so still watching him that her mind would drift and she wouldn't notice Rory coming up behind her until he put his arms around her waist and kissed her temple gently.

Once, when her eyes were red from sleeplessness and crying she went to that doorway while Rory left to get her some tea and custard, things that had always comforted her ever since she was seven years old.

She found the Doctor there, but instead of buisilly playing with his screwdriver or messing with the consol or plotting their next trip she found him sleeping.

Sitting on one of the couches that surrounded the console, his head tilted back and mouth slightly open, the Doctor was fast asleep. Amy watched him for a few moments and then quietly moved towards him, one ginger step at a time. When she stopped next to him she reached out a hand to brush the long fringe from his forehead and trail her fingers through his silky hair, studying his peaceful expression. So like he'd been in death.

She jerked her hand away. She wouldn't think about that. Taking a steadying breath, she looked around, spotting the blanket she'd left on the rail earlier that day. Picking it up, she quietly, almost reverently, draped it over his slumbering form, smoothing it over his shoulders and chest, pausing her hand when she felt him take a deep breath and shift a little. His head lolled to the other side and he fell still again, and under her palm Amy could feel the gentle beat of his hearts.

Thump thump. Thump thump.

Thump thump. Thump Thump.

One two. Three four.

Just as it should be.

Forever.

His body was warm and comforting as she placed her hands on his shoulders to kiss his forehead, and this time, she could hear his breath as her lips touched his skin. As she pulled back, she brushed his jaw with her fingertips, feeling his double pulse as it lay exposed in his throat while he rested, and as she watched him- oblivious to her pain and his fate, she decided she was going to change it.

She never intended to let it happen, but now it was certain.

She couldn't lose him.

She looked up at a small sound, seeing Rory standing in the doorway with two steaming mugs, watching her with an understanding expression. Her eyes wandered between the two men she loved and she decided.

"We will save you Doctor." She whispered to him, tugging the edge of the blanket a little bit straighter. "I don't care what it takes. We will save you."

With one glance back at her childhood protector, Amy joined Rory at the top of the stairs, taking one of the mugs of tea and kissing him. His eyes told her everything.

I'm with you. We will find a way to save him.

And she believed him.