Chapter 2

Rory Pond had just gone through the most horrifying period of his life. It wasn't the 2,000 years he'd spent protecting his darling in the Panderica. It wasn't dying multiple times or being chased on a fairly regular basis by monsters. It was thinking he would never see his Amy again.

Realizing that the Angels had taken perfect revenge on him had thrown him into near catatonia. He hadn't cared what happened to him, he'd madly destroyed an angel in the graveyard where he'd landed and had ended up in jail, in deep shock. Never to see Amy, to be as lonely as that imprisoned older version of him that the angels had kept prisoner in time, that was hell. Her sweet voice as he'd sat there in the cell waiting for death had been like a burst of light in darkness and had woken him up completely. He felt ashamed for giving up. He knew better. He was the patient last Centurion.

He looked about him. He had his Amy back. The hospital administrator (Mr. XXXX) and the Police Chief had been impressed that he wasn't worried about a place to sleep for himself, but was very concerned that Amy have a place to rest. There were cots and rooms for doctors and nurses to rest in between shifts, and Amy was sleeping, safe.

"Well, Rory, old chum, you're alone with your wife, and you'll never see your daughter or the Doctor again. Here's your chance to make a difference and to do good in a world that doesn't have the same medical knowledge you have. And here is also a chance to take good care of my Amy." He spent relentless hours that night going over the hospital's situation, the treatments, the staff hours, the patient roster, the kitchens, the pharmacy, the whole place, from top to bottom until he had a good initial idea of its greatest needs and where he could help most. He felt no need to sleep – he had been awake for 2,000 years after all, and although he had never spoken of that time and told Amy he had forgotten it, he hadn't. He had in that period learned fighting techniques, healing techniques (including herbal remedies), languages, and well, he'd kept busy. He could do that again, but with higher aims now that they were stuck here.

As the morning sun came up, he got coffee and breakfast on a tray and took it to Amy.

She was in a tiny room, almost a closet with just a bed and a nightstand where interns and doctors would sleep between shifts. He lay the tray down on the nightstand and then just sat and looked at the love of his life.

Amy's flaming hair flowed over the pillow like a river of beauty and she looked like a real angel. Her pert little nose then wiggled, and he knew she smelled the coffee.

Those beautiful eyes opened, and Rory's heart swelled. She smiled at him.

"I bought you a bit to eat," he said, and found himself being kissed breathless by his wife.

"Oh Rory," she whispered, "I'm so glad I found you,"

"I'm so sorry we're stuck here," he whispered, and held her closely.

"Not your fault," she said.

Then he handed her the steaming cup of coffee, and enjoyed her sipping it.

He thought now about the Doctor. "Do you think he will be okay?" he asked. Sometimes the Doctor drove him mad, but he was a friend, a good and dear friend. Sometimes Rory loved him like a brother, sometimes he wanted to smack him and sometimes he felt jealous of him, but all the time he felt awe. Awe at the worlds the Doctor opened to them, and understanding, especially since the Pandorica, of what loneliness the Doctor lived with.

"He has our little girl with him," said Amy and her eyes filled with sudden tears. "I miss them both terribly, but they have each other, and Rory, I can't live without you."

Rory smiled at her. "We can write him letters you know."

"How?" she asked.

"We'll save them but we can send them to Cardiff or to Winston Churchill. They'll give them to him."

"Brilliant!" Amy crowed, "We'll tell him about our life."

Rory sat back. "You know, we might hear from them too. Its being in proximity that is bad, but letters wouldn't be a problem."

"How will he find us?" Amy asked, hope now shining in her eyes.

Rory tweaked her nose, "He's the Doctor; he'll find our life signs and know where we are. Then he'll find some way to send us a letter or two."

After he was sure Amy was properly fed, he sent her off to visit with Mr. Twillinger, and cheerfully went back to work. The hospital may have been clean by World War II standards, but not his and he intended to drag it into the twentieth century. He'd been instructed to familiarize himself with the facility, and would do it from every level.

Seeing the food stores, he realized why the pay he'd receive was a pittance. This was the Great Depression and the hospital often did its work for free and was paid off in produce which went to feed the patients. Antibiotics weren't in wide use yet, so tuberculosis was a danger, as was influenza. Polio was also something to consider. Rory closed his eyes. Malnutrition was epidemic. People were going hungry. He had survived two centuries in world where starvation was a fact of life and he saw the signs here, the weariness, the pinched cheeks.

One thing the Doctor had taught him was to do your best and to be the best person you could. Rory intended to do just that. He would build a life for the both of them and he would make a difference.

He knew, of course, that Amy was missing the Doctor and their darling River. He did too. Now he could only hope what he accomplished here would make them both proud.