A/N: It kills me a little inside that Amy won't be in the 50th anniversary, so I decided to resolve this issue, in my own way.

FLOWERS FOR A GHOST

The Doctor is dying, and Amy Pond, the girl who waited, is still waiting for him.

The Doctor is dying.

It's real, this time. Painfully real.

Fleetingly, he almost believes that he deserves death. This body; this regeneration cycle, had lasted long enough. He'd never been the same after losing her.

But he'd never imagined dying like this. He is alone, entrapped in a small chamber. Completely and utterly isolated from his past regenerations and companions. They wouldn't even know of his fate until it's too late. It's a pitiful death for an old man; a man once known as the Oncoming Storm.

It's finally over for him.

His shaky hands find the deep wound in his side, and he presses down, embracing the sudden flood of pain. His eyes close, and he sinks to the floor, a broken man. He welcomes death.

Suddenly, there is a whisper of his name.

"Doctor?"

He ignores the vaporous voice, but the eerie echo resonates. Three words are uttered, words that he hadn't heard for hundreds of years, murmured with a familiar, Scottish lilt.

"My Raggedy Doctor."

He knows he's hallucinating, and he places his bloody hands over his face, attempting to block the painful memory. He doesn't want his last moments to be tainted by guilt; guilt and remorse that he'd managed to repress for so long.

There's a ghostly sigh. "Doctor, look at me." It's the feisty tone of voice that he remembers all too well.

"You're not real." He whispers, his face still covered. "I don't...I don't deserve to see you. Please..."

"You always were stubborn." Now the mirage sounds amused; wistful, even. "Just like me. What a pair we were."

The Doctor elicits a soft moan, tortured by the memories that saturate his mind. The Raggedy Doctor, and the Girl who Waited. "Not real." He chokes out, and the ghost of Amelia Pond chuckles.

And then, he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. Too real to imagine.

Stunned, the Doctor opens his eyes to see Amy standing over him. Not even his vast imagination could conjure up this. The affection and sympathy radiating from her kind smile, the bright gleam in her hazel eyes...

Slowly, he staggers to his feet and reaches a trembling hand towards her, touching a tendril of her soft, auburn hair. Her hand covers his in response, and she plants a tender kiss on his palm.

She's real. She's here with him. His best friend. The girl seared onto his hearts.

His everything.

The sting of his wound momentarily forgotten, he enfolds her in his arms, laughing into her shoulder. She returns his embrace just as strongly, and she fists her hands in his jacket, anchoring him to her. They'd both been waiting for this moment.

He doesn't question her appearance, doesn't worry about the absent paradox that should have formed. If these are his last moments, he just wants to spend them with her.

But his side soon begins to throb, and he breaks away from her reluctantly. His hands still linger on her shoulders, using her for balance as he sways unsteadily.

Amy's hands find his waist, supporting him. "It's not too bad...dying." She says quietly, and she smiles; a smile of hope. "The afterlife...it will be better when you're there."

He understands. Although they both know that he'll regenerate into a new person upon death, part of him will die forever, her part of him.

"He'll always be mine." Amy whispers, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. "You, will always be mine."

The Doctor's eyes flutter closed, and he feels her lips gently ghost across his forehead. His body is weakening; death is approaching. He welcomes Amy's comforting presence, her soothing warmth. "Don't leave me." He begs, clasping her hand and holding it over his one remaining, beating heart.

It's a struggle to open his eyes, but he does so, the pain worth the sight of Amy's beautiful, reassuring smile. "Not even death could keep me away." She murmurs.

The Doctor's vision begins to blur, and he blinks rapidly, trying to focus on her.

Amy's smile burns brighter. "Come along, Doctor."

He laughs hollowly, tears now cascading freely down his face.

It's time.

Suddenly, there is a sound of a commotion outside of the chamber; the others have found him.

But it's too late, and Amy begins to fade away. "I'll wait for you." She promises, her voice resounding through the now vacant air.

The doors are flung open behind him, and there are horrified cries of his name, but the Doctor pays them no heed.

His eyes close for the last time, and he revels in the time energy erupting through his veins. His mind is entirely focused on the girl waiting for him. Still waiting, even after all of this time.

He lets go.

~I~

A couple of metres away, two ethereal figures appear, their hands tightly clasped, unseen by the occupants of the room.

"I've gone." One of them whispers, blinking as the chamber is bathed in golden light.

The other only tightens her grasp on his hand. "And yet, you're only just beginning." She murmurs, watching the regeneration with a wondrous, distant gaze.

The man breathes in deeply, the motion unnecessary, but comforting. His companion turns her attention to him, and she rests her head on his shoulder, waiting. Always waiting.

Finally, the man's lips brush against her hair, and he exhales.

"I'm ready."

As the golden light fades from the room, leaving the 12th Doctor standing victorious, the figures have vanished, truly reunited at last.

A/N: Yes, a lot of this was written to be left to your interpretation. How is Amy there? What caused the Doctor's death? Questions that are meant to be unresolved. What is resolved however, is Amy and the Doctor being together at last.

I hope you enjoyed this little piece ^.^