AN: Once I stopped crying, I just had to get this little ficlet out of my system. Very short, but major spoilers for "The Angels Take Manhattan." Such a beautiful ending for two beautifully crafted characters. The title still sounds like it should be about Muppets, though.

When Rory looked around, he was in the same graveyard. Yes, very much the same place, but different. For instance, the grave he had just been looking at didn't exist, nor did most of the graves surrounding it. The city around the entire plot of land seemed considerably smaller, by the looks of it. Gone was the TARDIS, the Doctor, River…

…and Amy.

Rory swallowed the lump growing in his throat as tears began to well up in his eyes. No, nononononono. This couldn't have just happened. They'd escaped. They'd made it away, hadn't they? He and Amy jumped off of the roof of Winter Quay, and they'd ended all of this. The paradox had to keep this the same, hadn't it? The Weeping Angels couldn't have come back, couldn't have brought him here, away from her. If it had just been death, he could have dealt with that, he had dealt with that, but the idea of waiting it out without Amy by his side…

Well, that was just too much to bear.

He heard a faint pop, followed by a wail. When Rory opened his eyes again, there was Amy some hundred yards off, her bright red hair standing out against the somber hues of the graveyard. When she saw him, her lips flicked upwards into a smile, and she choked out a laugh through her sobs.

It took mere seconds for the two to dash the small distance and entwine themselves into each other's arms once more. To think that it had been minutes at the most since he'd last seen her, and his heart was racing, his chest heaving with sobs, and his head pounding in a dull comforting rhythm, as if to say, it's fine, she's here, you're together. He would have been very happy to never move from this position again.

Much to his dismay, they had to move sooner or later. Rory leaned his forehead against that of his wife. "So," he whispered, tears streaming down his face, "when does the Doctor come to get us out of this one?"

Amy choked out another sob. "He doesn't." As Rory's mouth fell open, she explained. "Another paradox like that would rip this entire city to pieces. He wouldn't come back for you. But I had to. I had to." Her thick Scottish accent was muddled by the sobs in her voice. "There was an angel who got away, who got you, and all I had to do was blink and I'd be with you again. And, you know what, Rory Williams?" She forced out another laugh between sobs. "I blinked."

He couldn't help himself kissing her right then and there, in that graveyard. Hardly a romantic place, but she was here. What could be more romantic than that?

"We'll start over," he said as the tears subsided. "We've lived through all sorts of circumstances before. I think we can adapt pretty well." He smiled at his wife, whose make-up had become distorted by the floods pouring from her eyes. "We'll get by."

And, with that, Rory held Amy close in his arms until her own tears stopped, frightened but ready for the life waiting ahead of him.