The dream begins in blackness. Slowly, little pin-pricks of light appear in the dark. Stars. Only a few at first but they soon begin to multiply until hundreds and hundreds populate the sky. Amy appears. Floating weightlessly in a white nightie and robe, staring out at the expanses of space around her.
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[ It takes him a little while to actually answer. This week is wrong. This week is some access to thoughts without permission and it's ugly and wrong and so invasive. He almost wants to pretend he hasn't seen it. Amy will know he's seen it. He's got his hands clasped together and a small twitch of a hopeful smile on his face, albeit a slightly tired one. ]
Dream within a dream. That would make a great movie - !
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[There's a short pause as she regards the Doctor carefully. She can guess what he must be thinking.] The dream wasn't all sad, y'know? It was happy for me. Remembering those things, everything I can. It helps.
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[ Had she had that? He doesn't actually know if she's had that, and he keeps rubbing his hands awkwardly. Sometimes he's rubbish at the consoling thing, catches him off guard. His smiles flinches again, into something sadder, as he fixes her with a longer stare. ] I'm sorry, Amelia.
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What are you sorry for? You came back, didn't you?
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[ He hefts a careful breath, letting it out slowly and steadily. Saying it aloud is more difficult than how he'd practiced before he'd first called her. ] I should have protected him better, and I didn't. [ Again. ]
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I'm not sure there was anything you could have done. The Rory here... he wasn't the same as the one I'd left. Well, he was, but he wasn't. And the him I left behind is still safe back in the TARDIS. And when he was here, the you that was here didn't even know him or me. It's not your fault. It's this place. But we'll get out of here. We'll go home. We just have to believe that.
[As she goes on her voice gets stronger, more adamant. Knowing he has to believe it just as much as she does.]
You listen to me. It wasn't your fault.
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