The Doctor: Personal question?
Rory: Seriously? You?
The Doctor: Do you ever remember it? Two thousand years waiting for Amy? The Last Centurion.
Rory: No.
The Doctor: Are you lying?
Rory: Of course I'm lying.
The Doctor: Of course you are. Not the sort of thing anyone forgets.
Rory: But I don't remember it all the time. It's like this door in my head, I can keep it shut.
- Dr Who Day Of The Moon
1.
"Doctor," he screamed, throwing himself against the man, pushing him aside, splaying on the ground. In that second he hadn't thought about the consequences. The gun got him. He remembered what he had said in Venice weeks back. It had been the truth then and it was the truth now. "You know what's dangerous about you? It's not that you make people take risks, it's that you make them want to impress you. You make it so they don't want to let you down. You have no idea how dangerous you make people to themselves when you're around." He was in the crack's path; the light was blinding and dangerous. The Doctor was dangerous, people did crazy things for him and so Rory Williams died...
And was in a vortex, rushing, windy like a hurricane, a tornado, all of space and time and Rory at its centre; small and insignificant- you couldn't fight that, so Rory didn't...
"Rory... Rory," the voice was low, firm, assured. "Rory can you hear me?"
Rory slowly opened his eyes, carefully. He was lying down on what felt uncomfortable enough to be a wooden plank and a Roman centurion was peering into his face, shaking him by the shoulders gently. There was another Roman soldier beside Rory, kneeling like a supplicant, and there were tears in the lad's eyes.
He couldn't think straight. If this was Heavan it was a lot more boring than he had imagined it to be! "What? I mean... where... how... I mean where am I?" He protested, "what happened? There was the gun and The Doctor and light and... stuff... how am I here?"
"Hush now lad," the centurion said. He turned to the young soldier by Rory's side, "He was delirious for days." He nodded significantly and went on, "Atticus stay with him. There's wine on the table. It's alright Rory. You're safe now."
He was gone before Rory could protest, the red tent flap swaying in the gentle breeze. Atticus was clutching distractingly at Rory's hand.
"Rory, oh Rory. I was so afraid."
Oh Rory. Amy should have been the one to say it. He was so confused. He forgot there was still someone in the tent. "How am I here. I can't be here!"
Atticus clutched his hand tighter. "It will be alright Rory. It's me, Atticus, I'll look after you."
"I don't... I don't understand." There was an annoying fog. Rory was finding it hard to concentrate. There was still Leadworth and Amy and his family and nursing and The Doctor, but now there were other things too... lining up in regiment, shield and sword at the ready, bartering in an outlying territory in Egypt, visiting the tax collectors of the Empire and making the long trek back to Rome and Ceasar with heavier pockets for the Emperor, entertaining prostitutes (Rory blushed and hoped Amy would never ever find out) and Denarri spent leisurely at different exotic markets and always in all of these memories, the young soldier was by his side, Atticus. His memories were telling him they were the best of friends.
"There was the battle, as you predicted there would be, and I fought alongside you. We are the disciplined troops, the civilised ones, yet still we were pushed back by the blue barbarians and their strange banshee howls. You were leading the retreat and one of their women got you with a knife; small and bronze but still wicked."
Rory felt sick. He was remembering; the confusing melee of battle, the dust storm, the trampling hooves and a red haired woman, gold bands on her arms. So much like Amy. His moment of shocked remembrance had cost him. The woman had struck.
"She got me in the side," he murmured.
"You remember?" Atticus was smiling weakly. "I pulled that knife out myself and we've cleansed the wound with mead. It must have hurt like Apollo's fire. You passed out. It's been days. We thought you wouldn't make it back to us."
Rory decided to go with it. "Thanks. I owe you one."
2.
Atticus and Rory were patrolling the fortifications. A letter from Ceasar himself had come in at noon, commending his troops on holding the fort and getting rid of the barbarian rabble. A second battle had proved to land more decisively in the Romans favour. Rory had been personally commended by his Commander, Satanicus for coming up with their winning strategy.
Roranicus. It had a nice ring to it. Amy would have laughed at that, Amy would have... Rory pushed her out of his thoughts. Who knew where he really was now, where she was?
"Denarri for your thoughts?" Atticus laughed.
"I was thinking about someone."
"Not a girl," teased Atticus.
"Yes. A girl. Get a grip."
"Alright, alright. No need to bite my head off. You must have it bad then."
"We were engaged," Rory blurted out before he could stop himself.
Atticus dropped his cheeky grin. "What happened?"
"We got separated."
Atticus nodded sympathetically. "A common enough story then, if a sad one. A soldier falls in love with a slave girl... it happens so often that the slave cannot be bought, they are called away at the bidding of the master and you have to let them go."
Rory shrugged. He could hardly explain Amy to Atticus.
"What was her name?"
"Is. Is ok? She's still out there somewhere." Well, Rory hoped.
"Alright. What's her name then?"
"Amelia," the name slid off the tongue and lingered in the air, "Amy Pond."
3.
Amy liked Vincent alot. Vincent. Van freaking Gough. Here. Right in front of her. Un-believable right? She couldn't have made this stuff up!
They were walking together, The Doctor a bit ahead, no longer listening to the conversation. Vincent was talking; she leaned in closer, spoke to him, empathised.
"I'm sorry you're so sad."
"I'm not. These moods torment me for weeks, for months, but I'm good now. If Amy Pond can soldier on, then so can Vincent Van Gogh."
She frowned, confused. "I'm not "soldiering on". I'm fine."
Vincent was looking at her with oh so much sympathy in his eyes. "Oh, Amy. I hear the song of your sadness. You've lost someone, I think."
"I'm not sad." She sounded less certain now. There was a tear on her cheek. She thought she could hear a voice call out, she felt the memory of something intangible rise up, of a nurse maybe? She shook her head.
Vincent frowned. "Then why are you crying? It's alright. I understand."
"I'm not sure I do," Amy whispered back. She was frightened because she didn't know why she was crying. There was something... no someone...
Amy shrugged the feeling off.
3.
"Rory... Rory!" Atticus bounded into view exhausted from the sprint. He clutched his stomach trying to catch his breath. "Rory!"
Rory laughed. Atticus could be such a clown. "What is it? You look like you're about to explode from whatever the news is that you have."
"Cleopatra... Cleopatra has arrived... here in this very camp and Satanicus says..." Atticus was still red in the face, "Satanicus says it's a great honour..." He started to laugh, almost hysterical now. "Cleopatra is here, can you believe it! Staying with us!"
Atticus was infectious. Rory began to laugh too. "Unexpected at any rate!"
Atticus was pulling at his arm now. "Come on Rory!"
Cleopatra never came to the land of the Celts, the part of Rory's brain that still remembered history in high school whispered. And he knew enough now to know that he was in the real world, centuries in the past.
So Rory went.
4.
He made sure his face was covered by his helmet, just in case. Travel with The Doctor made you cautious.
As he stood beside his commander and saluted the Lady calling herself Cleopatra he frowned. Blonde hair, green eyes. Not Egyptian at all. Someone masquerading as the great Queen. Someone thoroughly modern too. It was in the full curve of the lips, the suggestive sway of the hips, oh and the gun holster Rory couldn't help but see sticking out from behind a roll of parchment.
Strangely enough he wasn't afraid. He felt hope for the first time in months. Wherever the weird and unusual appeared here on earth, eventually The Doctor and his companion followed.
Amy, Amy, can you hear me?
5.
"What's up with you Rory? Ever since She turned up you've been all jittery."
Rory grinned. "Something's gonna happen. I know it. Something really, really great!"
Atticus frowned, shredding a leaf between his thumb and forefinger. "If you say so."
6.
Rory saw them ride into the camp, made sure he was on guard at the Queen's tent when they came riding in. The exchange was predictable in its way. Another acquaintance from The Doctor's past travels. He had been right to stick around then.
He discreetly followed them to Stonehenge along with the rest of his Roman brethren. It had been a direct order from above. Well, Rory wasn't going to argue with that.
The whole way his heart tattooed the same beat over and over.
Amy, Amy, Amy, Amy.
7.
He hadn't counted on the forgetting part (which broke his heart) or the fact that he might have been transformed through the cracks on the way over (which stopped her heart). It wasn't the meeting he had hoped for.
So he closed her up in The Pandorica, told The Doctor to leave him be for the millennia (Oh please God would The Doctor just leave him be), and he sat down, crossed his sword and waited.
He didn't know what had happened to Atticus. Even in his preoccupation with Amy he still wondered, still cared.
They had been good friends in the end. He knew he would never be able to tell Amy that. He had lived a whole other life backwards in time.
He would never be able to tell Amy that either.
He wondered who River was then decided it didn't matter.
Amy was the only girl who would ever matter to him. He would wait forever for her if he had to.
And no matter what happened it would always be worth it.
It was a thought that left the smile on his face every night, got him through the years of waiting.
It was a good thought. He'd hold on to that thought.