Disclaimer, yo: Nope. I'm sorry. I don't know Doctor Who, nor will I probably ever will. This is just a fanfiction for the Eleven pairing that I love most~ Yes. That's right! The Eleventh Doctor and Amelia Pond. But, in no way do I own them, any other fabulous characters from Doctor Who, or the series itself.

Shh, Spoilers: Yes, as River Song says - "Spoilers.". This fanfiction may also contain them if you haven't watched all of the series. Read at your own risk.

Author's Note: Okay, aside from all of the boring, automatic stuff you just read above, this is a lovely little story that's based around the Fifth Series{and maybe, in the near future, Sixth, and onward} series of Doctor Who. Be warned that this IS my first Doctor Who fanfiction with the Eleventh Doctor, and that I'm not as great with writing him as I am with Ten{and GOD KNOWS how many fanfictions and roleplays I've done with the gorgous Tenth Doctor . . . yes, yes. Still need to put said Whovian fanfictions up on here and finish anime/manga others that are waiting for updates, too… I've have been lazy, point blank. Sorry for the those of you who are growing tired of slow updates..}. So, yes! Fair warning to all of you that I may be out of character, but I'll try the best that I can, and will TRY to update faster than I usually do. Thanks for reading this if you didn't skip to the story already{which, I bargain, half of you will}. And now, may I present to you. . . Of Fairytales and Fezes. Enjoy. =-)

They sat on the long seat of the TARDIS, by the console. Just, orbiting in space. Joking and carrying on. Amy told of when she was a little kid, of her silly, whimsical, imaginary adventures. He cocked his head back and laughed, his green eyes shining despite of himself, despite how he truly felt. Amy, grown-up, nonsensical Amelia Pond, returned his happiness with her own fantastic smile. Little did she know she wasn't really happy.

He could see it – he could see it through her features. It wasn't true happiness, even if she thought it was. Something in her eyes, something in her smile, seemed sad. Always sad. Forever sad. As if the sadness within her was reaching out, trying to grab onto anything and anyone who would recognize it. Wanting to be acknowledged. It longed for its owner to see, to feel, to know why such despair existed within her heart. But, as hard as she tried, as much as she wished she knew the cause of her abrupt tears or the overwhelming sorrow that washed over her every other night, she would never truly understand. Not until she remembered. Not until she remembered him. So, she pushed it aside and just seemed to think of it as nothing.

And this . . . this sadness that she unknowingly exhibited since the incident made him feel guilt. Guilt over Rory, whom he hadn't been able to save from the Crack that engulfed him and absorbed him. Guilt, because, as hard as he tried to make her remember, as hard as he tried to spark some sort of memory, Amy Pond might not ever truly remember her fiancé. And most of all, guilt towards himself. Most definitely towards himself. He had caused this. He had taken her with him, when he could have still left her in Leadsworth after the Atraxi. He had gotten Rory involved to improve the relationship between The Nurse and The Girl Who Waited. He had done this to her, to Rory. And now? Rory might as well be possibly lost forever if Amy's memory of him never returned. And, they possibly would never be able to get married. To have the life that was normal. The life they should have. It was The Doctor's entire fault. And there were very limited things he could do to make up for it.

He felt pain for Amy. He really did. And, so, vowed to bring Rory back into existence for her. Not particularly because he wanted to – he tolerated Beak Nose, and thought of him as a sort-of mate, but wasn't that keen to bring him back, really. He mostly wanted to do it for her. Because she cared. Because she loved Rory. Her cries still echoed in that memory, those horrible screams . . . her desperate will to stay alongside her fiancé, despite her risk of being forgotten as well. The Doctor had to pull her away. He couldn't just stand there, and she wouldn't listen to him. She wouldn't budge. She was going to be absorbed. He hated the thought of losing her, losing another companion because he was selfish and lonely and daft. He couldn't just stand by and let her existence be erased along with Rory's.

Neither of them could have saved Rory once he had been shot. Neither of them was able to rescue him from the deadly Crack In Time. Rory was important to Amy – they had shared their whole lives together. They were engaged. And that's why . . . that's why the Doctor was going to save him. Whatever it took. Because, Amy's true happiness meant everything to him.

"Doctor?" Amy leaned in, bringing her beautiful face and fiery tresses into view.

The Doctor jumped, jostled from his thoughts. He could feel a slight blush kissing his cheeks as he looked over at her. She wore an annoyed expression.

"Are you even listening to me?" She asked, her tone bristled.

The Doctor gave her, what he thought, was a convincing expression of attentiveness, pushing away the blush the best he could. "Of course I am!"

She cocked an eyebrow in suspicion. "Yeah, right!" She stood up, placing her hands on the hips of her short skirt and narrowing her eyes. "What have I been talking about the last ten minutes then?"

The Doctor hopped up, deciding not to give into defeat, but ignore the question. Instead, he pranced around the TARDIS, pushing buttons and pulling levers.

"Alright… RIO! Rio de Janerio! River of January. Love the name – people in Brazil are so simple!" he rambled, trying to flee from her question the best he could.

Amy followed The Doctor around the TARDIS console, still as perceptive and suspicious as ever. "It's been two weeks since you promised to take me to Rio, and all of the sudden, you want to take me. I know you're hiding something from me, Doctor. 'Might as well come out and tell me!" She said, Scottish rogue strong in her voice. She crossed her arms to make a point of saying that she wasn't going to let him ignore her, and she wasn't going to be tricked. She wanted to know – he was definitely being a bit too nice to her. Van Gogh and now Rio? He was deliberately picking places and people she dreamed of seeing! She could tell something was up, and she was going to find out. One way or another.

"What makes you think I'm hiding something?" He asked, not really paying much attention. Still turning levers and knobs and things

Amy's face suddenly lit up with a daring glint. A mischevious smile spread over her lips. "Oooh. I see now." She said, victory ringing in her tone.

He glanced up at her, truly oblivious to what she was getting at. "What?"

"Taking me to all the places I like . . . not answering my questions about what you're thinking. The blushing. . . You're starting to fancy me, aren't you?"

He could feel that stupid blush begin to creep over his features again. In a way, that was true. He was beginning to have feelings for Amy. Well, actually, not really. He had always somewhat fancied Amy. There was really a lot to like about her. But he could never voice them or directly show them. One, she was getting married. She loved Rory, and she belonged with him. Not some old Timelord who was lanky and strange and had already had the whole bit with Rose Tyler. It had taken forever to get over her, to accept that his Metacrisis clone really was the best thing for her. Not to mention Martha, who had fancied him and always felt second-best to Rose because he couldn't return her feelings. No. He wasn't going to be a 'Martha', nor was he going to cause an incidence to happen like that again. She only thought of him as her imaginary friend, as her hero. Amy couldn't have feelings for him, even if she joked with him about from time to time. Two, he was a Timelord for crying out loud! She was a human. He would live, regeneration after regeneration, and she would grow old and die. He was 907 years old. He had experienced things, and he knew how the universe worked. A relationship between the two would totally never work.

To her unfortunate triumph, he dismissed her comments, as well as that stupid blush, and denied them. "Okay. You're just taking it too far now. You're my friend – my companion, Amy. I'm just trying to be nice to you for a change! What's wrong with that?" He continued his way around the room.

That mischievous grin remained plastered to her lips. She continued to play 'follow the leader'. "Nothing. Except, you're taking me out on a date. Admit it Doctor, you like me more than a friend." She inched closer to him, clasping his dangling hand in her own two, and smiling madly – knowing she was right.

Oh no. It was happening again. This wasn't right. This really wasn't right. It couldn't happen again. The kiss he had experienced in her bedroom. That wonderful feeling of her lips against his... He had liked it until his reasonable mind had kicked in... No. Don't think about that. He mentally slapped himself. That could never happen again. He couldn't give in. Not now, not ever. He had to set things right, the way they were supposed to be. She was engaged to Rory. She was getting married to Rory. She was in love with Rory. He had to make her remember.

He suddenly stopped what he was doing, one hand paused on a lever while the other rested in her hand. The Doctor kept his eyes on the console, unable to look at her. He was silent, and didn't reply to her, his expression turning slightly solemn. Okay, so he was being too nice to her. But for a good reason. A reasonable reason. He felt responsible for her loss of Rory. For the loss of a memory she once cherished, and now couldn't even comprehend. He was seeking forgiveness, and some sort of redemption. He was apologizing, releasing the guilt, in his own way. Leave it to Amy to catch on without even realizing why he was doing it.

"Doctor?" She suddenly relaxed after a moment of silence. Her demands cut short on her tongue, and her victorious attitude dissipating a little. Something seemed to overcome him – like sadness or guilt. She suddenly felt a pang in her gut. Perhaps she had said something she shouldn't have.

He looked up, turning to her and meeting her gaze with his. His emerald eyes searched hers as he grabbed hold of her shoulders, wiggling free of her hands. He had to try. "Amy. Do you remember that time with the Silurans?"

She was taken aback for a second. Why would he want to know that? Her expression a bit baffled, she answered, "Yeah. They wanted to take over the Earth again. Why?"

He let his eyes bore into hers. Taking in her chocolate brown irises. "Amy, Amy. Tell me! Do you know who was with us?"

She stared back, confused. "I was with you. Doctor, there's never been anyone else with us." She stated. Was he going mad?

"No, no! Amy. Remember, Amy. Concentrate on what I'm saying. You have to remember. You can't forget Rory forever! Remember!" He clutched her shoulders harder, determined. Wishing for her face to light up with some sort of memory. Some sort of recognition.

"Wh-What are you talking about? Remember who?"

"Rory, Amy! Rory! He's your boyfriend! Your-Your fiancé! Your soon-to-be Mr. Rory Williams Pond!" His voice was intensifying now. "Please try to remember!"

Tears welled in her eyes then. That mysterious sadness was taking over her again. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her heart ached, filled with hurt. With over-flowing sadness and despair and pain. But. . . why? "Doctor," She said through the tears, her mind trying to make sense of it. She put a hand up to her face, feeling the wet, yet familiar sensation of herself crying. "Why am I crying? Why… does this keep happening to me?" She asked, her eyes searching his in fear and confusion as she tried to understand.

The Doctor stared at her, his emerald eyes reflected relief because of a part of her remembering, but his face portrayed otherwise. He cupped her face in his hands, sighing, with evident regret on his face. "Oh, Amy Pond. . . I'm sorry. I am really, really sorry." How could he have done this to her? He should have looked after Rory better. It should have been him that had been shot. At least, he would have regenerated. And Rory would still be alive and well within the universe of time and space. But, no. He had to stand there and watch her cry while she suffered over the cause of it. He hated it. He hated every second of it. He hated to see her cry. More than anything.

Then, he pulled her into a heart-felt hug, the trip to Rio now forgotten. "I'll make it right. I promise." He told her in her ear, bent on the declaration. He would find some way to reverse the effect. To bring him back to her life, to her memory. He swore it.

Even if. . . it meant sacrificing his own life. Even if. . . a part of him secretly didn't want to.

Read and Review. Yes, please do. They're much appreciated! Especially since this my first ElevenxAmy story. ^^ Stay tuned for Chapter 2. Coming soon!