"You tell him."

"No, you."

"It really ought to be you that says it."

"Tell him what?" asks the Doctor, not looking up from the controls.

There's a bit of nudging and then Rory blurts out, "We're leaving."

That gets the Doctor's attention. "What?"

"We want to go home, because -"

"All of time and space and you two want Leadworth? Is it getting boring? Are the wonders of the universe too much for you?"

"We weren't going to stay forever," says Rory.

The Doctor is silent for a moment and then he nods. "Of course not."

"I'm pregnant," says Amy.

The Doctor stills in that dangerous way, then suddenly brightens as though someone has flicked a switch inside him. He steps forward and sweeps them both into a hug. "Ages since I had a breeding pair on board, forgot that might happen." He releases them and steps back, straightening his clothes. "You're right, the TARDIS is no place for a child. I'm not having baby-vomit all over my nice glass floor." He turns on his heel. "Leadworth, I presume?"

"We're not leaving just yet," says Amy, quickly. "A few more weeks, maybe. We just thought we should tell you."

"In case you were... upset."

The Doctor steps back from the console, obviously relieved. "Look at you two, eh?" He smiles and claps his hands together. "I'll be Uncle Doctor. Two weeks," he says. "It's always nice to have a date for these things."

It's three days before he catches her alone, in the kitchen one night when she can't sleep. He slips into the chair opposite Amy and looks at her as she drinks a mug of hot milk.

"Rory doesn't know," he says, finally.

"Of course he doesn't."

He nods. "How pregnant are you, exactly?"

"It's not yours."

"That's not an answer, Pond."

Amy puts down her mug. "It was once."

"Once is all it takes."

"What, because you're Special Magic Doctor with the Special Magic Sperm?"

He leans back in his chair. "You're not taking this seriously."

"I'm taking this very seriously." She stares at him, daring him to blink. "If you say one word to Rory, I'll..."

"You'll what?"

"I know so many ways to hurt you, Doctor."

He blinks first. "Yes. Yes, you do."

"What is it?"

The Doctor looks at the scanner. "It's a baby."

Amy sighs. "We know that! What kind is it?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

They answer together. "Yes!"

"A boy. Twelve weeks." The Doctor frowns. "That's taken most of the excitement away."

"For you, maybe," says Rory, grinning and clasping Amy's hand.

"You'd be surprised," says the Doctor.

Amy doesn't say anything.

"You have to support his head," starts Rory.

"I know how to hold a baby. I've had some of my own, you know." The Doctor thinks for a moment. "I suppose you don't know, I never told you."

Rory looks like he's trying to think of something to say to that, but Amy interrupts. "We're calling him Martin."

"Good name." The Doctor puts the baby back in his crib and reaches into his pocket for the sonic screwdriver.

"Umm," says Rory, "what are you doing to him?"



"You two," says the Doctor, "have been to some unusual places. I just want to be sure no one here's missed anything horrid." He closes the screwdriver. "And they haven't."

Rory sighs with relief, Amy just nods.

"Martin Williams. Or is it Pond?"

"Williams," says Rory. "You name babies after their father."

"Of course."

"Gallifreyan education starts at the age of eight," says the Doctor, appearing out of nowhere.

Amy keeps walking, pushing the pram ahead of her. "And?"

"And I plan to continue that tradition."

She stops and stares at him. "I told you, Rory's his father."

"Sociologically, yes. But I'm not speaking sociologically."

"We'd have noticed if he was an alien."

"Would you really? Did you notice Mrs Kapoor at number twenty-six?"


"You can come with me. My door's always open. I think the TARDIS misses you, to be honest. She hasn't been the same since you two left."

Amy starts walking again. "Don't you have someone else by now?"

"Not yet."

"Well, get someone. Get someone and leave us alone."

"Eight years old," he calls as she walks away from him.

Amy orders new locks and bars for the windows. It won't work, but she has to do something just to keep sane.

Rory thinks she's paranoid about burglars. He finds her boarding up the attic windows and takes the hammer from her shaking hand. "What are you doing?"

Amy wipes her eyes. "Trying to keep out the storm."