Amelia mustered a breathless cry from the strange pain that began stirring with each passing second, "Rory?"

He immediately came to her side and held her hand, "It's all right, Amy. I'm here."

Her eyes nervously glanced to the nurse, yet still spoke to him. "Where am I, Rory?"

She watched as the nurse tried to drift out of the room unnoticed, though it only alarmed her more. Rory gently squeezed her hand, reaching with his other to drag a chair to her bedside, and he scooted close to her face to give her some sort of comfort. Yet she felt none. Her eyes blinked frantically on their own, and her breath felt tainted with something that tasted strange to her, and the thin sheets tucked around her body seemed to look at her with patronizing eyes. The "calming" pictures of sailboats that hung on the blank walls moved in the painted blue and she could almost hear the ocean if she let herself focus on them. But she forced herself not to, and with the faintness that danced in her veins, it didn't require much effort to lay motionless with each object blurred from sight.

When he gently squeezed her hand again, her eyes drifted from the empty doorway to the velcro bracelet that had been secured around her wrist. She squinted past it to see a wrap of bandages, and she darted her eyes up at Rory.

"Where am I, Rory?" She asked again, and quickly became impatient with his 'fluff' of trying to calm her before saying anything.

"Amy, please relax." He said softly, bringing her hand up to his cheek, yet to her it only sounded of condescension. "I don't want them to have to sedate you again."

Her eyes narrowed defensively, "That sounds a lot like a threat, Rory."

He held her hand firmly, and if she disregarded everything else, she knew that this was her Rory. "No." He said sternly, protectively, as if he would fight them away wearing his Roman Centurion outfit if he had to, full-force to protect his wife. His expression somewhat eased her, though only somewhat.

"You've been unconscious for over a week." He said regrettably, and his eyes lightly dampened as he replayed the moment he found her, lifeless on the floor, with a kitchen knife laying idly in her relaxed hand, the small pools of blood that had settled around her.

Rory closed his eyes tightly to black out the image, and the terror as he carried her limp body out of their home, and placed her in a gurney and watched as she was swarmed by paramedics.

It comforted her even more to see the sincere pain in his eyes, and she slowly softened, brushing his face with her hand. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

She hesitantly shook her head, "I can't exactly say." And the howling curse of the Doctor lightly brushed inside of her head. "I don't know. The last thing I remem—" She stopped herself, and her eyes lightly fluttered.

"Mr. Williams?" a voice inquired from the doorway, secluded behind the condescension-colored curtain, and she immediately watched as its hesitance was thrown out with Rory's permission to enter.

Amy's eyes trailed up from the pair of shoes that slowly slipped from behind the curtain and the rest of the body followed. There, standing erect, looking professional and distantly sympathetic, with his hands resting in the deep pockets of his long, white coat; the doctor. Her Doctor. She squinted out the blurriness, and lightly smiled at the thick, furry beard that settled around the majority of his kind face. He politely returned her smile, and nodded to Rory, whom returned the wordless, testosterone-awareness greeting.

"Hello, Mr. Williams." said the doctor formally, and then looked to Amy. "How are we feeling today, Mrs. Williams?"

His polite, detached smile choked away every comfort that his presence gave her, yet his eyes remained entirely familiar and mesmerizing.

"Doctor." Rory forced a manly tone, oblivious to Amy's quiet snort at his attempt. "I'm sorry, I don't know—"

"Koogler." The doctor said quickly and his tone held a faint sense of being previously criticized over it, though his face appeared to now come to expect it, though despite it, Amy still felt like it bothered him.

"Koogler?" repeated Rory in disbelief, a small smile spreading in the corner of his mouth and he quickly looked to Amy for approval of his oncoming short-laugh, though surprised when her face remained unmoved.

"Yes." said the doctor humorlessly, and then looked back to Amy, and caught her giving a disapproving glance to her husband when he nervously looked to the floor. "It's quite all right, Mrs. Williams It's definitely not the first time."

"It still bothers you." She replied dryly.

He glanced out of the single window and his eyes squinted in remembrance, and quickly shrugged them away. "If it helps you sleep." He looked back to her, almost knowingly, and she felt a shiver down her spine.

She caught a breath, and fed her mild adrenaline, "Depends," Amy murmured haughtily. "What's your first name?"

Rory shot a curious glance from the doctor to Amy, and sunk a bit back in his chair, uncomfortable at the tension in the air, at the smile that slowly grew on each of their faces. He bitterly kept his head slightly tilted and took their stare as a term he had heard, what was it? He looked to the doctor, and casually glanced to his wife. Oh yeah, eye-sex.

"What gave me away?" The doctor's voice broke the long silence of their staring contest, and it was laced a soundless applause, as did his very faint smile.

Amy's eyes narrowed and she lightly pursed her lips, "Although it's quite….unorthodox, and you've dealt with it for a very long time, that's obvious, but you settle for it. In your mind, it's better that than something else. What else could trouble you as long as your last name? Wouldn't be a regrettable action, 'cause then you could simply start anew, and no one would have to know. So that tells me that it's just as perpetual as your last name. It has to be your first name because the stitching on your coat says 'L. Kroogler'. You're trading off, the lesser of two hardships."

He failed to hide his impressed expression, and looked over to the plastic sleeve that kept her medical chart to the wall, walking over to it and sifting through the pages.

"And what if my acceptance was simply in consistently defying the expectations of an odd name?" He murmured as he skimmed down the notes.

"I don't deny you also have those sort of issues as well, in proving your name strong, it becomes a title, and then you must always run past the already high bar. But I don't want to teach you anything new, you're a Psych consult, you need to learn all you can on your own. You don't like shortcuts, yeah?"

He released the page from his fingertips, "I'm an attending." He spoke in a gentle way, as if to give facts to her theories.

"A prodigy." She announced proudly, with a sliver of sarcasm.

"A rather impatient person to nonsense."

"And yet you listen."

"And yet you still talk."

She watched as an unfamiliar flash of someone came into his face, and he glanced down at her chart again, "You attempted suicide, I see." He murmured, and she watched as his face became amused by his offensive tone.

"Your wit is that limited that you resort to attempt a harmful comment? How disappointing."

The doctor looked up at Rory, and his body language was evident to shut Amy out. "Mr. Williams, I would like to speak with you outside for a moment." He faked a polite smile to her as her husband kissed her hand and quietly told her he'd be back very soon. She watched wordlessly as they both left the room, picking her place back on the blank wall and challenging it in a stare, with the murmuring of the two voices just on the other side of the wall.