First story! Please review!
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Not even bats ventured into the Underhenge. Rory lived in a tomb. In a tomb, alone… with Amy. Nothing disturbed his wandering thoughts, or whatever they were now. Amy was locked in the Pandorica. The ultimate prison couldn't even be escaped by death, which is what she almost was. Dead. He had shot her himself. Sort of. He hadn't been in control of his laser hand at the time, but he had shot her. Lasered her. Whatever.
In two thousand years, he would marry Amy. Their wedding had been tomorrow when he'd left...
Back in 2010, The Doctor had interrupted his bachelor party. That crazy Time Lord had popped out of the paper cake and told Rory that his fiancé was a good kisser.
"Why did I come with them? Why didn't I stay home? Amy probably would've made he wedding..." He gently moved his hand around the circular lock mechanism on the Pandorica, as he usually did when he longed for Amy. He imagined the lock turning like it had before the Doctor was locked inside. And like it had when he had sonicked it open so that the Doctor could escape. He remembered carrying Amy's barely breathing body and setting it inside. As he rubbed the Pandorica, he remembered stroking Amy's cool cheek before the box closed. The Doctor said the Pandorica would keep her alive forever. He said that when a version of Amy who was healthy touched the box, when it got a sample of her living DNA, that it could heal her.
Rory sighed and looked down at his clothes, a Roman Centurion's uniform. Gingerly, he pulled out his sword. He had used it as a Roman. As Roranicus, he had killed people while conquering new lands for the Roman Empire. Since he had been reunited with Amy, his life was different. He didn't know if his roman life was valid anymore; could it be more real than his old life - the life he had known in 2010? Technically, his old life hadn't happened yet, and it wouldn't for two thousand years... He had never hurt anyone then.
Before he met Amy, Rory had once played with some of the neighborhood boys while they stoned a cat. He had missed on purpose, but even pretending to participate in such a heinous act had filled his six-year-old self with guilt and shame. Despite of these modern memories, Roranicus had slain dozens of faceless opposing soldiers. Humans. If he were capable of sleep, memories such as these would keep him awake at night.
Memories like those, and the guilt of Amy, and the wonder of why he ever started off on this crazy adventure. Perhaps the most mysterious idea was the thought of what he really was. Rory didn't worry about what he could be, or what has become. Rory needed to known what he really was – physically.
Auton.