Title: Promises
Rating: PG
Summary: Rory promised to be there when Amy got back. He intends to keep that promise.
Characters: Rory, Amelia
Pairings: Rory/Amy
Warnings: Mentions of a mental hospital.
When he walks in, Amelia is stuffing clothes in a bag. She never packs her suitcase- the whole time he's known her, she's only left town three times, and only once for more than a few days. He remembers helping her pack for a trip to London, once, her trying furiously to fit a week's worth of clothing into her duffle bag. He remembers her aunt coming in and yelling at her for not just using her red suitcase, but the suitcase never moved. In the end she managed it by only taking two pairs of jeans. Her aunt would never notice anyway, she said, and she could always find someplace to wash them if they got dirty.
She's just as angry now, and he can see tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She crams another shirt into the bag. He walks over to her, and places his hand on her wrist. "Hey."
"You gonna help?" she asks, not looking at him. He hears her voice break.
"What do you need?"
She and buries her face in her hands, wiping the tears away. "Uh, a skirt, I think. Third drawer down." She laughs ruefully. "At least I don't have to bring much."
He chuckles and opens the drawer. "True. Which one?"
"Chatterly Mental Hospital," she announces, as if reading an advert, "Stocked with all the latest in washing appliances from the fifties. And any of them, I think," she says, glancing back at him. "Not like it'll be filled with dating prospects, is it?"
He goes silent for a second. He'd been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out on a proper date all last week. Her aunt's announcement had spoiled the mood, somewhat, he thought. He'd been in love with her for eight years, though, he could wait a bit longer.
She hasn't noticed his silence. When he turns around, she's sitting on her bed, gazing at the window. He knows that look. He crosses the room, and sits down next to her, placing his hand on hers. "It's only for a few weeks, Amelia. Leadworth'll be here when you get back." She looks at him, and he hopes she knows he's not talking about Leadworth. "I'll be here when you come back," he says, and he hopes she knows he is talking about himself. "I'll wait for you. I promise."
"People always say that," she says.
He leans against the box, watching the entrance. "Do you remember when we were kids?" he asks the box. For a moment, he almost expects an answer. "I do. Of course, I remember a lot of things, now. It's very strange. I have two mothers, did you know? They're very similar, except ones quite a lot more…Roman than the other. And she puts faces on fruit. Anyway, that's one of the things I remember. Us being kids, I mean. I made you a promise, remember? I guess I probably made you lots of promises, but there's one in particular I remember right now. Except we weren't really kids, 18, weren't we? You're aunt made you go away, remember?" He pauses again, waiting for the box to answer. After a moment, he continues. "Of course you remember. Two months in a mental hospital, kind of a big thing, I suppose. And I said I'd be there when you got back, yeah? I promised." Silence. He stands up, and turns, resting his forehead against the cold stone, and swallows. "I'll wait for you, Amy. Just like I promised."
She doesn't answer.