AN: This story takes place after Cold Blood, so spoilers up to there. This is my first fic ever posted on , so enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or Torchwood. References to the technicalities of the TARDIS and space-time travel are from the Tardis Type 40 Handbook by Alastair Roberts.

Beta read by the awesome Aromene.

Please, please, please review!

Chapter 1

It was late morning on Ecklon; a small, emerald planet that orbited lazily around an ancient sun deep in the suburbs of the galaxy. The relatively obscure planet had only one little-known distinguishing feature: the best fruit in the Easter Spiral. Purple berries the size of your head and little ovular red fruits that tasted exactly like saltwater taffy. There were fuzzy orange things that had to be cut a specific way, otherwise the juice would explode like a sticky grenade, and every other colour fruit one could think of.

It was this delicious fruit that the Doctor and his pretty red-headed companion were currently partaking in as they leaned against a huge spiraling tree in a glade deep in the forests of Ecklon.

"Mmmm..." mumbled Amy, her mouth full, as she wiped fruit juice off her chin with the back of her hand, "Yoahwawigh."

"What?" he looked over with a puzzled expression.

She swallowed, "You. Were. Right. About the fruit."

"Aren't I always?" he asked with a grin.

She punched him in the shoulder playfully, "Shut up."

He looked at her as she giggled. She seemed so happy. But that's because she didn't remember, couldn't remember, what happened to Rory. Still, he thought she remembered somewhere deep inside. More than once the Doctor had found himself wandering the halls of the TARDIS as Amy slept and had heard quiet sobs that echoed off of every wall, like the entire ship was also weeping for the loss of Rory. He had never told her about the night-time crying, not about Rory. What was the point? The only thing left of him was a ring and the tears on Amy's pillow that she cried as she slept and dried to invisibility by morning.

And maybe it was better that way. Wouldn't it cause her more pain to mourn? Was it wrong of him to be glad that she couldn't remember the death of her fiance? Did that mean he was glad that Rory no longer existed? So many questions whirled rapidly around in his head, and no matter how long he thought about them he could not find any answers. He had 900 years of knowledge stored in his vast brain and the complexities of humans' relationships still manage to stump him. Maybe that's why he liked them so much. Another question.

But all he really wanted now was to make sure she was happy. Ever since the Silurian incident, he had taken her only to the safest and most enjoyable places in the hopes of restoring her good cheer and end the night time weeping. She wasn't even aware that she cried as she slept, but he knew, and it killed him.

It was his fault. Rory's death and subsequent erasing was his doing. As much as he tried to get around it, to explain and reason it away, he knew. He had so needed to satiate his curiosity, to reach into the rift and see what was on the other side, instead of getting on the TARDIS and disappearing into the ether before one of those damned lizards could shoot anybody. If they simply left instead of humouring his whims? The Doctor didn't like "what ifs" as a rule, but this one plagued him.

He tried to shake off the gloom his brooding had caused and return to the trivial realities of this harmless little planet before Amy could realize where his head had gone.

"Nobody knows about this place because the local people refuse to trade or make contact with any other species. They are one of the most peaceful races in the galaxy and they don't want to be 'contaminated' by more violent peoples. But I understand that they said it very politely." Facts. They were an easy screen, a mirror to deflect attention from where his head really was.

"So they never get angry? Ever?"

Up in the treetops came the echoing calls of wildlife. Together the different noises made a symphony of the jungle, intertwining croaks and long low notes with shrill high vibratos and the melodies of mating calls.

The Doctor chuckled, "Well there was one time. It was the only time in history that the Ecklon people have ever tried to kill someone."

"What happened?"

Under the calls of wildlife a distant roar began to build, like the feedback on a radio, something so subtle it was easily dismissed.

"He blew up their moon." The roar began to slowly increase, accompanied by a nearby rustling in the foliage. The Doctor drew his brows together in puzzlement as he listened. It sounded like something was running towards them, followed by a large crowd of some sort. That was odd. The crowd didn't sound happy.

The rustling increased in proximity until it was almost upon them, "Who managed to blow up a moon?" the oblivious Amy asked incredulously.

At that moment a man in a navy coat and an unbuttoned shirt burst into the the clearing. He stopped short at the sight of the two lounging peacefully in the glen and grinned a roguish, dimpled grin, "Doctor."

"Captain Jack Harkness."

The handsome stranger gave a worried backward glance as the roar increased and clarified into the sounds of breaking brush and angry yelling. He looked back a the two, panicked, "You might want to run."