Type in "Doctor Who Lullaby" on YouTube; it's the one called "The River Lullaby: Amy and Melody Pond." Also save the one "Madame Kovarian's Lullaby" for the next drabble.

Only two minutes. Only two minutes, and Madame Kovarian will snatch Melody from your arms, tearing her away from you and closing the lid on that white basket, so horribly like a casket. You press your hand against the white blanket, wrapping her tightly so she won't thrash against the padded walls. She's always quieter when swaddled, when her arms and legs can't be pinched and prodded with the Clerics' needles and scanners.

Madame Kovarian reaches for Melody. "Into the basket."

"I'll do it." Your voice barely wavers as you brush past the woman, stepping up to the basket. They say babies recognize their mothers' voice at birth, from the past nine months spent listening. But not this time, no. She quiets when you hold her, but she's still listening for something else, something you can't even imagine.

Your last words to your baby. Will Melody even remember you? You think of your friend Mels, Melody's namesake. When you asked about her mum, she couldn't meet your eyes. "I dream about her sometimes…kissing me…." And then she'd punch you in the shoulder or run off and never finish the story.

A kiss, a kiss goodbye. You bend over and kiss Melody on the forehead, breathing in her fresh, clean smell. It's not the time for lies, not the time for comforting words…that's your daughter in that basket, your little girl who Rory's never seen and you never got to show to the Doctor. Your Melody…."Leave her. Please, leave her…leave her!"