With the TARDIS in mid-flight on its way back to London, there was no better time for Amy to make her move. The Doctor would be gone in less than five minutes; it was kiss him now or feel like she was cheating on Rory for the rest of her life. She grabbed the Doctor by his bowtie and brought him up against the wall of the TARDIS. Before he had a chance to even blink, she started kissing him fiercely. Surprisingly he gave in almost instantaneously, having wanted to kiss this little Scottish girl ever since he'd seen her on the night before her wedding.
The Doctor's breath shuddered as he kissed back, hands moving from beside his side to around Amy's waist. He slowly slid them downwards, longing to caress her, when the front door of the TARDIS banged open. Rory Williams stood in the entrance, the brilliant smile he had on his face as he entered disappearing in seconds at the scene before him.
"Amy..." he whispered in shock.
"Guess we didn't hear the TARDIS landing," the Doctor mumbled as he moved slowly away from Amy and turned to face Rory's direction.
"A...Amy..." was all Rory could mumble again before whirling around and going right back out the door. He couldn't process thoughts. He couldn't determine one emotion from the other billions he was feeling at the same time. All he knew was that he was running. He was running full throttle back to his apartment. He was so upset and disoriented that he didn't even care to use his car. He just wanted the safety of his apartment, and the sharpness of that knife. Thinking of those two things kept his legs going all the way across town.
Back in the TARDIS, Amy stood against the wall, motionless, just staring at the door where Rory had left. Her eyes showed no sign of tears, her face showed no form of emotion, but her insides were completely, violently ripped apart. The Doctor had already tried waving his hands in front of her face, screaming at her, threatening to take her to 6 billion BCE and leave her there; but nothing got any reaction out of her.
Eventually the Doctor sat on the TARDIS floor next to her. "Go after him, Pond. Just go run to him," he said to her.
And suddenly, she did.
His ocean blue eyes watched her go with mourning. He always lost the girls he loved, didn't he.
Amy's feet pounded against the asphalt streets of London with no abandon. Beads of makeup-y sweat dotted her face, but she didn't care. All she could see was the look on her love's face when he saw the horrible mistake she herself had made. Why did she do it? He was like a grain of sugar compared to the delightful three-layer chocolate cake that was Rory. Amy's choked sobs were mixed with her heavy breathing as she ran continually toward Rory's apartment.
Keys trembled in Rory's hand as he fumbled to open his own door. He shoved the keys in the lock and forcedly turned them, every movement making his heart pang more. Once inside he threw his keys on the table and clenched his fists as he slammed the door. Rage and fury and heartbreak and betrayal couldn't even describe what he was feeling. His hands shook as he searched through every kitchen drawer, mind so focused on Amy that he couldn't remember which drawer he kept his pocketknife in. Finally he found it, and he took it with tears in his eyes to his worn-out couch in the sitting area. He tried to no avail to flip open the blade, barely able to see through the hot tears of rage swelling like monsters in his eyes. He finally clicked it open and savored the sound, wondering a little if it would be one of the last sounds he'd hear. He'd never cut himself before and had never even wanted to kill himself before, but right now it was the only thing he knew he was able to do. He knew he'd never be able to look at Amy again. And Amy was his life... He wouldn't be able to face life anymore.
Without further ado, Rory took the blade and pressed it into his left wrist. The pain that lulled in his arm was nothing compared to how his heart felt at the moment. He needed to go deeper, to draw blood. Lots and lots of blood. He struck the blade against his wrist again in the same place, eyes widening with some emotion he couldn't exactly place at the red drops that appeared on his wrist. It was anger, it was sadness, it was...heartbreak. A strained sobbing noise emitted from Rory's throat and his body shook violently with grief. He pulled back the knife and again pressed it hard into his wrist, making another defined line of red stand out against his skin. To Rory, every cut symbolized every sickening rip he could literally feel inside his chest; he wasn't nearly done with the amount of cuts.
As more tears streamed down Rory's face and he was working the blade deeper into his skin, he heard an unwanted sound of the lock on the door clicking. He turned his red-rimmed eyes to the door, hatred blazing like fire in them, as the breathless figure of Amy walked in. He didn't even care to hide the knife; she deserved to see how much pain she was causing him.
Amy again was rendered motionless. Every bone in her body was screaming in distress. She didn't know what to do. She felt helpless, like a coward. The man she loved was sitting there consciously tearing his skin open, solely because of her actions, and she couldn't move. Her mind was spinning; three thousand things to say but not one of them being voiced.
"R-"
"Don't." Rory had cut her off before she could even get his name out. He had gone back to cutting while she was lost in her distraught mind and was slicing his skin in a new place.
"Baby, please," Amy choked. She sniffed loudly, and slowly, cautiously made her way to the couch. Her heart's pace quickened as she approached fiancé made sure not to look up at all. "Rory, please," she said gently, cautiously placing her hand on his arm holding the pocketknife.
Immediately Rory jumped and slid away from Amy. He took a chance and glanced at her. He tried to give her a look of pure hatred and ice, but as soon as he saw how beautiful she looked with those tear stains on her face, his expression faltered. His eyes swelled up with tears and the full feeling of a broken heart. He turned away and let the tears fall silently, trying hopelessly not to let Amy see.
In a cracked voice, Amy said, "I'm sorry."
"It doesn't seem like it to me."
"Why don't you get that you mean everything to me?"
"Why don't you get that you cheated on me. And I can't just forgive that."
Amy sniffled and ran her hands through her hair. "It was only a kiss, Rory-"
Rory snarled and turned around. "It was 'only a kiss' back in June. It was 'only a French kiss' back in July. How do I know that you guys haven't gone farther while you were gone on your fucking time-traveller adventures?" Rory's voice rose steadily throughout his speech and he fought to keep control of his emotions.
Amy sat for a while, silent tears budding in the corners of her eyes. "We haven't," she eventually managed to whisper. .
"How am I supposed to trust you! Why don't you tell me exactly what happened?" Rory spat.
She opened her mouth to speak about how the three times that she and the Doctor kissed had been meaningless, but she couldn't find the strength for words. She wanted so badly to tell him-tell him how the first time was because she was in culture shock. Tell him how the French kiss was because they were both drunk on a different planet. Tell him how the last kiss was supposed to be a goodbye and as soon as it was over she realized how big of a mistake it was. She wanted to tell him how every kiss, big or small, with him, with Rory, had so many emotional things attached to it that things with the Doctor didn't.
But her heart prevented her.
All she could think to say was, "Trust me. Please, please just trust me that I am telling the truth."
"Why. Give me one reason," Rory said back in a low voice. By this time he had rotated himself so that Amy couldn't see his arm, and he was cutting again. It was the only thing that was justified for him to do. He'd never trust her again no matter what she said.
"I love you, Rory."
Or maybe he could. He stopped the movement of the blade into his flesh as the words came out of her mouth. He stopped because those three words were the ones that he'd never heard before. Those three words that he'd been waiting on forever had just been said at the moment when he'd least expected them. When Amy spoke to him again, he was too speechless to respond.
"Do you believe me?" she sobbed, tears flowing continuously. "Believe me, love, believe me." She grabbed Rory's shoulder and shook him. "Why aren't you saying anything?"
Rory still couldn't move. Or talk. Or think. Those three words kept reverberating around in his mind. His happiness mixed with the unforgivable crime Amy had committed made him confused, and bewildered. He needed to say something; tell her it was okay; but how?
"Rory, why aren't you saying anything!" She repeated. Amy was panicking. What if he didn't love her back now? What if she had fucked everything up for the rest of her life?
As his silence continued Amy's doubts grew. She was so sickeningly sure that Rory didn't care about her anymore. So sure that he was heartbroken. So sure that be couldn't love her back. Amy dropped her face into her hands and sobbed violently, peeking through her fingers at her love's arm. The red slashes on it made her whole body lurch with regret and sadness. The knowledge that all of that pain for Rory had been caused solely by her, by Amy, was too much. Amy's sobs came out shaken and raspy; she was finding it hard to breathe and her heart was racing faster than she'd ever known. Everything hurt so bad and she just wanted it to stop; why was she so very selfish!
"I love you too, Amy."
Amy's breath caught on the air as Rory's quietly spoken words reverberated through it. Rory had turned around and was now facing her.
"W...what?" her Scottish accent and the extreme value of shock within it made the words ever so small and dainty to Rory.
"I love you," he replied almost instantly, the tears ever flowing from his eyes.
Shock coursed throughout Amy's entire being as the statement was affirmed. She didn't know what to think; how could this be possible? She slowly looked up at Rory's unusually pale face and recognized that look of honesty upon it. She'd seen that before: on the night he proposed to her. He had meant what he had said with all of his heart, and here he did, too. As her brain was struggling to process everything at once, Amy didn't know what to say. She opened her mouth to speak when Rory shook his head, wondering why he closed his eyes with what seemed like dizziness at the action.
Rory sounded weak as he looked into Amy's eyes and said, "I love you too. I love you, I love you, I love you. I'm... always going to, Amy. If you break my heart a million times I'm still going to love you." He paused as a shiver ran down his body, then continued. " If you make me wait for you for two thousand years I'm still going to love you. I don't know what it is, but I..." he trailed off as his face became completely white and he started to see blackness around the edges of his vision.
Amy reached out and put her hands on Rory's face. "What's wrong, baby," she whispered, looking directly into his eyes. She didn't like the lost look she was getting back from him, like he wasn't there. "Rory," she whispered again, more forcefully, gripping his face tighter. Still no response.
Rory was internally struggling against the forces of consciousness. While he was cutting he didn't realize how deep he had gone. He had cut nearly 1/4 into his wrist and was losing blood rapidly. Amy wasn't able to see because Rory had his arm behind him. Rory forced himself to breathe, forced himself to hold on. He couldn't give up now.
But sometimes, everything else overrides your heart.
Amy gasped as Rory went limp and his eyes closed. He started to fall forwards, and Amy grabbed him and pulled her into her arms. She sat there for a long time, holding the man she loved, her tears dropping down onto Rory's unresponsive face. Occasionally her body would start to shake rapidly, the emotional pain too much for her. She would sometimes lean down and kiss Rory desperately, trying to give some of her warmth to him. Her arms were kept tightly encircled about his form. She realized that all she had ever wanted was to hold him in her arms like this, but not while he was on his way out of life. Her tears kept falling and her heart kept throbbing; in the end, she was the one who had lost him.