So, here's the other story to thank the 2000 readers from last month! I love you all so much!
There are different types of not talking, and Rory knows this one means trouble. Set just after Let's Kill Hitler! Please read! Thanks again!

They hadn't been talking. And that meant something was up, like that time Amy had stolen twenty dollars from him but replaced it with twenty five when she got paid a week later. They both knew what had happened, but something was off between them until she climbed up to his window and broke into his room, crying and confessing her crime.

And then they were alright until she started her job as kissogram, which no one told him about until he saw her at his cousin's stag. When she was kissing his cousin. In the police women's outfit.

When she explained that she needed the extra money, because she wanted to take him to see the Download festival, he stopped complaining. He still didn't like seeing her kiss other guys, and she didn't stop after she bought the tickets, but he stopped complaining. She had the right to earn extra money to do what she wanted, and usually she wanted to do what she wanted with him. Besides, she started kissing him more, and she was really, really good at it.

He could remember those times of not talking; she literally avoided him. She did not call him at night. She ignored him at school, and ended their dates early, promising that she wasn't mad at him, or thinking of breaking up with him.

Now, not talking was not saying anything. She would talk excitedly about their last adventure, rehashing events the way she never had before. She would talk about what to listen to, what game to play on the TARDIS, what book she had just 'accidentally' read from the future without the Doctor's permission.

The Doctor may have noticed the change in Amy, but didn't say anything. Maybe he figured that if Amy was given time, she would talk about it with him.

Rory knew better.

So, one night, after they had gone to bed, he pulled her into his arms from the other side of the bed.

"Amy."

"Rory, I'm tired."

"Don't care." He replied softly, reaching a hand up to brush her hair from her face. He froze for half a second when he felt her tear stained face, and then tucked the strands behind her ear. "I knew something was wrong. What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Something." He argued. "Amy, how many times have you been able to lie to me for long? I mean, properly lie to me. Not about where you and Mels were—" He felt her stiffen slightly in his arms.

"Oh." He leaned over, and kissed her forehead, "Oh."

"It's nothing." She muttered, turning her face away, burying it in her pillow.

"Mels. And Melody. And River." Rory wrapped his arms around her tighter. He heard a sob escape her.

"I want my baby girl back, Rory. I know she's Mels, and I don't want to lose Mels, and I don't want the Doctor to lose River, and I don't want to lose her either. But I want Melody back. I want to hold her in my arms, and teach her to wear red nail polish 'cause it's sexy and dress her up for prom."

"You did dress her up for prom. And she does wear red nail polish because of you." Rory sat up and pulled Amy up too, "But I know what you mean."

"I didn't get to take baby pictures. We didn't get to change her diaper. I never sang nursery rhymes to her. I didn't plan birthday parties for her."

"Didn't get to teach her to hit, didn't get to watch old movies with her…"

Amy nodded, "Yeah. Stuff like that. The stuff parents do with their children. Not stuff friends do with their friends. I mean, we got drunk with her."

"You were drunk. I was the designated driver."

"Still. You don't get drunk with your daughter." She gave a half choked laugh. She suddenly leaned forward, buried her face in his shoulder, and started to sob.

Rory held her wrapping his arms around her, burying a hand into her hair to cradle her head as he rocked her back and forth.

As she fell asleep, he did not tell her.

He did not tell her he felt the same way she did. He did not tell her that he was raging an internal war with the part of him that wanted to make the Doctor pick up Mels from the first day she appeared into his life, and bring her to him and Amy now. He knew it was wrong. He didn't want to lose his best friend. He didn't want to take River away from the Doctor, either. Or Amy, who was attached to her more than Rory was.

He supposed that now, he would become more attached.

Rory did not tell Amy, as he laid her back down, that he wanted to call up River Song and talk her into a day at the beach, as family trip, not a family and friends trip. He did not tell her that he could see so much of Amy in River, from the nail polish to the way she winked to the things she said. The way she flirted with the Doctor. The same sad smile. He'd noticed the similarities before, of course, but now he knew why. They had the same DNA, even if the Doctor said that the DNA of a time lord changed. River was more like the Melody he had imagined than Mels was.

Rory did not say, as Amy slept in his arms, that he knew what it was like too. To love their daughter, and lose her, only to turn around and find out she'd been in your life all along. And he knew what it was like to be proud of River, but not love her, not really, and still love Melody. He wanted to know more about River, to hear everything, to know everything.

He wanted to stand up, leave Amy alone for an hour, and make the Doctor tell him what happened the first time the Doctor met River.

And, if something bad happened to River at that meeting, he wanted to punch the Doctor's face.

He didn't think that it was because River was his daughter.

He didn't know why.

Melody was River. River was Mels. Mels was Melody. A twisted triangle of one person with multiple names, faces, and personalities.

Except she wasn't. Melody would never be River to him. River was now their daughter, who became an amazing person because of the Doctor.

River was not Mels. Mels was their best friend. The girl they grew up with, always in trouble, always in the same grade.

And Mels was the person that Melody shouldn't have had to be. Growing up without proper parental figures. Growing up for decades before really growing up. Mels was the ragtag best friend who was always in trouble. She never seemed to ever get out of it.

They were all the same. Same history. But they weren't the same, and Rory had this gnawing feeling like he would never be quite sure of River again.

"Rory." Amy murmured, "Stop it."

He kissed her cheek, "Stop what?"

"Thinking. I've been laying here, watching you think. Your brow gets this sort of look to it, and your eyes lose focus. Stop it. It won't help."

"Will anything?"

"I don't know. It'll get easier. River will come see us." She curled up against him tighter. "You know she loves us, right? River loves us as parents. Melody loves us as parents. Mels loves us as friends."

"You keep using the present tense."

"We're in a time machine. It's always present tense, unless it's future tense." She laughed, and his grip became constricting.

"I know. Okay."

Her voice became coaxing. "Let's go back to sleep." He nodded slightly, and closed his eyes. She nestled her head against his cheek, and when they woke up, she didn't say anything about her tear-soaked hair and pillow.

Thank you so much for reading this story, and please take the time to drop a review!