Author's Note: This is an idea I got when watching 'Cold Blood' again, just a "what if "that I couldn't shake so I desided to write it down. If people like it I think I will continue with more chapters/adventures. This is my first real fan-fic so please no fireballs, but I would love reviews! :D

He stood at the consol of the TARDIS trying not to think, which is extremely hard to do when you are a Time Lord. Thinking came naturally, a whole swirling vortex of ideas and options that made up the universe from beginning to end. The Doctor was currently trying not to think of Rory Williams. The man that never was.

Two weeks had passed since the crack took Rory's body. Took it and erased his existence. Amy, who had screamed and fought hysterically when the Doctor dragged her away from him, now skipped around oblivious. She had no idea that man she loved was gone. She had no idea she had ever even loved him. And it killed the Doctor to watch. So he did everything he could to make Amy happy, took her to every amazing place he could think of. Anything to make her smile even if she didn't know why she should be sad. Deep down the Doctor knew he did it for his own benefit. Seeing Amy happy helped to push away his guilt. He had lead Rory to the center of the Earth and he should have been the one to get him back out. But he didn't and it was his fault.

The Doctor took a red velvet box out of his pocket and flipped it open. Amy's engagement ring sparkled in the light. He wasn't sure how it was still here, when Rory vanished it should have too. The Doctor suspected the TARDIS had something to do with it, wibbly- wobbly, timey-wimey indeed. He couldn't give the ring to Amy because she wouldn't even remember it, but he couldn't bring himself to put it in storage. So the Doctor just kept it in his jacket pocket. A constant reminder of the pain he had caused mad, beautiful, brilliant Amy Pond.

Shoving the box back into his pocket, the Doctor decided to go find Amy. He thought she might like a trip to the Musée d'Orsay to see the work of Van Gogh.

"Amy!" he called down the corridor leading to her room. "You like art right? I -"

He stopped dead when he saw her sitting on the floor outside the bathroom. She was pale and shaky, with her fiery hair stuck to her forehead. She looked up at him and smiled weakly. For a moment she looked exactly like the seven year old girl he'd once known.

"Are you all right? Amy what's wrong?" Dropping to his knees the Doctor pushed the hair out her face scanning for injuries. 907 years had taught him that a lot could go wrong with a human body and countless horrible thing could make a person pale and shaky.

Amy's laugh cut off his rising panic. Her hand slipped around his wrist and she leaned into his touch. "I'm fine, Doctor." she said in her musical Scottish accent. "Though, I do wish you would have told me you can get time-travel sickness or would that be space sickness? Either way it's starting to get old. So Doctor do you have some sort of pill for that?"

"The TARDIS prevents people from getting motion sickness. It- wait hang on. 'starting to get old' how many times has this happened?" he demanded.

"Once today. Twice yesterday." Amy's eyes widened at the Doctor's intense expression. Even more so when he promptly lifted her to her feet as if she weighed nothing and began dragging her toward the control room.

He said nothing as he pulled Amy along behind him. The Doctor didn't trust himself to speak, he was furious. Furious and scared, because something wrong with Amy. His Amy. And after everything that happened with Rory, the Doctor was not going to lose her too. If anyone or anything hurt Amy they would rue the day they'd ever heard of The Oncoming Storm.

Amy was uncharacteristically silent as the Doctor made her sit in a chair next to the consol. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and passed it over her body sending readings to the TARDIS mainframe to be analyzed. He watched the small view screen impatiently for the results. There was a small blip then elegant Circular Gallifreyan filled the screen.

"What is it?" Amy cried, behind him. "Do I have some sort of demented space flu or something?"

The Doctor didn't answer, he was still staring at the screen. Disbelieving he read the results twice, three times. No. No. The universe simply couldn't be that cruel. It couldn't. But no one knew just how untrue that was like the Doctor did. The universe was cruel. Yet no more so than at this moment, because the ring was not the only paradox Rory Williams left behind.

"You're pregnant." The Doctor said.