Alter Ego

Rory follows the Doctor through the TARDIS corridors. His head is a whirl. The shock of watching Amy's Flesh duplicate disintegrate right in front of him is fading, leaving confusion about when and how it happened, fear about what's happened to her and helplessness that there's nothing he can do about it.

But what Rory Williams feels most at that moment is anger.

Somewhere out here, someone has his wife. And she really was pregnant. That means they have his child too. A child he's never seen and didn't even know existed until ten minutes ago. He's been angry before, but nothing like this; it's like he's gone through it and come out the other side into somewhere cold, calm and focussed. He thinks he should be frightened of it, but if he can use it to get Amy back then he doesn't care.

"Doctor, where are we going?"

The Doctor doesn't turn. "The TARDIS locked onto the source of the signal. It was being transmitted from the Delta Arm of the Lesser Spiral Cluster in the year –"

"No, Doctor. I mean, where are we going now?"

"Oh. To the wardrobe."

"The wardrobe?"

The Doctor opens the nearest door and there it is. Rory has never been sure of how big the TARDIS wardrobe is. He's almost certain it changes each time he visits. He's never had any trouble finding clothes either, no matter what he's been looking for. He had thought he was just imagination, but now he knows it's not. There's a plastic dummy standing in front of the first row of clothes that wasn't there before, and it's wearing a very familiar suit of armour.

"What is this, Doctor?"

The Doctor smiles. "It's for you, Rory. We have to dress for the occasion. I could have got you something else but the TARDIS obviously thinks this suits you best."

Rory looks at the armour. It isn't proper legionary armour, he realises. It's not steel, leather, or bronze, but something that feels like futuristic Kevlar. He's about to ask what it is when something the Doctor said comes back from him.

"What occasion?"

"Rory, do you know why this is happening?"

"Of course not!" He tries and fails to keep the anger out of his voice. "You haven't told me anything!"

"They took Amy to get to me," the Doctor replies, and there's more sadness in his voice than anything else. "It's a trap, but a special kind of trap. They didn't just replace her, they've had her projected into an avatar so no one would know she'd gone, not even her. They didn't want us to find out until it was too late. They fooled me."

"So... they must know a lot about you then?"

The Doctor looks at him, and for a moment, he isn't the friend who's been taxiing them around the universe for months, he isn't the figment of Amy's childhood imagination come to life, he's something else. But Rory doesn't feel like himself anymore either, and he holds the Doctor's gaze.

"No," the Doctor says quietly. "They don't know about me. If they did..." He hesitates and then smiles brightly. "And they don't know about you either, Rory Pond. They think you're just a nurse from a town in England no one's ever heard of with a closed post office and a duck pond with no ducks in it. But I know that isn't true. And so does Amy."

And Rory understands. The Doctor is asking for his help. But Rory Williams is just a boy from Leadworth living in the shadow of his wife's imaginary friend. He can't save Amy. Amy needs a man who once killed a Cyberman with a sword, who shot a Dalek in the eye, who stood for two thousand years without sleeping to guard her while she slept inside the Pandorica, willing to fight against all of history with only a sword and an Auton gun.

She needs the Last Centurion.

His hands move of their own accord. He strips off his clothes and pulls on the long-sleeved tunic and the burgundy trousers. He laces up the heavy boots. He finds the catches on the chest plate and fastens it tightly. He buckles the sword-belt around his waist. He sweeps the scarlet cloak over his shoulders.

The weight of the sword on his left side feels pleasantly familiar. He draws it and looks into the mirror. The Last Centurion looks back at him. Then he sheathes the sword and turns to the Doctor.

"How do I look?"

"Ready."

Something about the vibration of the TARDIS changes. The Doctor senses it too, and hurries back to the console room. Rory follows; running in the armour is easier than it should be. Somewhere behind the door in his mind, he can feel memories of forced marches, battle drills and fort building in the freezing Britanian winter.

As he enters, the Doctor has the screen on. Hundreds of ships are floating in space outside, all of them strangely familiar.

"That's where Amy is?"

The Doctor shakes his head. "No. The TARDIS couldn't narrow down the signal any further. We need help finding out where she is, and the Twelfth Cyberlegion is going to give it to us."

"Cybermen? Why would they help us?"

"There are only two things that are important to a Cyberman. One is logic. The other is survival. You're going to make the Cyberleader understand that not helping you is very, very illogical."

"How am I going to do that?"

"Easy. You're going to deliver a message from me. I'll make sure the Cyberleader understands it."

Rory looks at the fleet again. He thinks of Amy, out there somewhere with the baby. Waiting for him to come for her. He grips the handle of his sword tightly.

"Doctor... are you sure?"

The Doctor looks up from the console. He looks old now, impossibly old. When he smiles, it's a grandfather's comforting smile. For a moment, Rory imagines Amy there with them, smiling the smile she saves for Rory. The smile that tells him he's her husband, and her hero.

The Doctor nods in confirmation, as if he can see her too. "You're a good man, Rory. Even demons run when a good man goes to war."