"Rory? Rory?"
Rory Williams was cold. He had seldom been colder. But that didn't make any sense. They were in bed. They were safe in their own bed on the TARDIS. He knew it. So why was he shivering?
Then he realized the problem. There was no they. He was alone.
He sat straight up, every hair in his body on end. "Amy!" he gasped.
But—ah—there she was. Amy Williams, his childhood friend, his wife. Right as rain. Just… sitting on the end of the bed, wearing one of Rory's sweatshirts and watching him. He relaxed and slumped backwards, letting drowsiness slip over him. "Oh, Amy." He extended an arm. "Come back to bed, love, it's still early."
She shook her head. "No," she said. "Rory. I think it's l-late." She was pale as milk, her eyes wide and bright as doe's, and she was trembling. Her voice was small, like the voice of a child.
Rory braced himself on his elbows, still addled by sleep. "What's the matter?" he said. "Nightmare?"
"No," said Amy. She held up a hand to make him be still. "Listen."
Rory rubbed his eyes. "I don't hear a thing."
"Yeah," said Amy, nodding empathetically.
He got up for good this time, scooting to the end of the bed to take Amy's hand. Her fingers were as cold as his. Then he realized it wasn't just their emotions that chilled them. The room was freezing.
"We're in space, right?" said Amy.
"That's what the Doctor said," Rory agreed. He yawned deeply. "Middle of nowhere. Peace and quiet. 'The Leadworth of the galaxy,' was the exact quote, I think." He made a face. He'd been born in the quiet village of Leadworth, spend his whole life there and planned to go back someday. Just not today.
"Hey," said Rory. He hugged Amy and kissed her cheek. "I know it's a bit... weird being out here at night. How about I go find the Doctor and ask him to park us back on Earth? Just till dawn."
He moved to get off the bed, and Amy grabbed his shirt. "Don't leave me."
"All right," said Rory. He pulled her closer, wrapped an arm around her, and rested his chin on her shoulder. "In the morning, then. We'll go together."
"No." She shook her head. "Listen, Rory. Really listen."
"All right," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I'm listening."
They sat together in silence for a moment.
"Um." Rory hesitated. This was slippery ground. "Are you trying to make a point right now? Is this a metaphor?"
He felt her roll her eyes against his chest. She groaned in frustration. "Not to me, oaf. To the TARDIS."
Rory re-calibrated his attention, listening to the ship around them. It was quiet and echoey, making their own little space seem that much more alive and intimate by comparison. "Nothing," he said. "It's quiet."
"But we're in a spaceship," Amy insisted.
"Okay," said Rory. "So…"
Her hand tightened around his. "So why aren't the engines turning?"
Rory went still. He focused on his ears. Heard nothing at all, besides his heartbeat and Amy's. No hum of electricity, no blow of air, no friendly wop-wop of TARDIS engines. And it was very cold.
"But…" said Rory. He shook his head. "It can't break. It just can't. Even if it could… the Doctor would fix it. Wouldn't he? He'd fix it."
"He would," said Amy. "I know he would. He'd fix it no matter what." She paused, letting that sink in. "So why hasn't he?"
Under Rory's arm, Amy's body was hard and ferocious as a stone angel's.
"Rory," she whispered. "Something happened."