Rory sat on the bench. He couldn't believe that after all that had happened the angel had still got him. He was still in the graveyard, barely 20 paces from where his future gravestone would be, they weren't coming to get him. Too many paradoxes he assumed, the Doctor wouldn't allow it. A man walked past him, nodding a greeting. Rory nodded back, he didn't even know what day it was. He looked over his shoulder; there was no angel there now. He hoped the Doctor would get the one that had got him, before it got anyone else, especially. He stopped himself. No Rory, he chided himself. That's the past, or was it the future? Anyway, it's gone, they've gone, and whatever you do, don't think about, her. His shoulders sank, he couldn't do that. How could he live in the past with no knowledge of the era? Without Amy? She may not have realised it but she was his rock, she had encouraged him to become a nurse, he had relied on her for his support. He would never find anyone like her. She was perfect, hair, voice even her temper was beautiful. This would have to be a waiting game, like living outside the Pandorica, except, this time there would be no promise of seeing her again, he would be waiting for death to come and take him.
He could get a job he supposed, and a house, but it wouldn't be right, part of him was missing, and he was never going to get it back. He peered into the bin beside the bench, there was a newspaper, he pulled it out and checked the date. Only 50 years out of his own time, but it stretched forever, an invisible barrier that he would never cross.
He looked back at the patch of ground that he would one day be buried in. he wondered who had paid for his grave; he must make some friends, otherwise. Then a cat yowled and he whipped his head towards the area it had come from, before looking down at his feet. Someone came and sat next to him, but he kept his head down. I'm going to have to find some different clothes, he thought uselessly. They were 21st century clothes, not much use. "I stick out like a sore thumb." he muttered
"You and me both Mr Pond." Came the voice of the person sitting next to him. He whipped his head up and his eyes were confronted with the face next to him. The dark brown eyes that glistened with unshed tears, the long soft ginger hair that flowed down her back. His gaze traced over her pale skin, taking every inch of her in before finding its way back to her eyes.
"Amy." He breathed. He felt one hot tear roll down his face, swiftly followed by another.
"Come on now, stupid face." She gently reached over and brushed away his tears. Then she leant forward and kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, yet full of longing and promises. It told him that whatever happened now, no matter what the future held and what she had to give up, she was happy to be with him, and she loved him, always.