Well, time to give a little insight into what Rory's been up to. Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows! Enjoy!
Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock
Chapter Two
Rory Williams had been shaken- quite rudely, in his opinion –from his sleep in the early hours of morning. He was greeted with a very stiff back, aching muscles, shivering and damp limbs, and the anxious face of…one of his neighbors?
"It's your turn for watch," the other man had whispered before dropping to sleep on the cold, dew-covered ground that Rory himself was laying on. So it wasn't his neighbor- what was he even on about, he didn't have neighbors. There was just the community, nothing else.
There was even less than the community for him. Rory hardly spent time in the tunnels of his childhood home anymore. Much to his father's dismay, he'd volunteered for supply runs. Brian Williams had thought his son crazy, called him suicidal, even. But Rory found he couldn't just sit down in the caves and wait for others to bring him his food. If he could help, he would.
Truly, no one had expected his success, least of all him. But with an ease of what felt like years of training, Rory Williams had taken charge of the team he worked with in order to make sure they got what the community needed with as few casualties as possible. The other men now looked to him as a de facto leader of sorts, which was fine, he guessed. Outwardly he accepted it and merely gave the orders in a calm, firm voice.
Inside, on every run, however, Rory was always secretly terrified. Sure, it was exhilarating sometimes when the adrenaline was pumping through his system, and he was helping people—but there were other times when they'd been making desperate sprints across open land, jets of searing light whizzing over their heads and throwing up the already-scarred earth beneath their feet in little explosive near-misses. And sometimes it wouldn't be a near-miss, and a man- a friend –would crumple ahead of him and Rory would have to leap over his fallen body with a strangled cry of, "I'm sorry!"
He tried, he tried so hard to bring everybody back. But sometimes he just couldn't. And that shouldn't bother him so much- the others all learned or would learn to accept it and move on –but Rory couldn't help feeling a heavy guilt drag him down with each loss. Because it shouldn't have happened.
This morning, especially, he was struck with a weird sense of how true that was. He often found himself questioning why everything about life was so horrid, why they had to huddle and hide in darkness and tunnels all the time, why they were forced to send scavenging teams for their very survival. But he always ended up realizing there was no point in asking himself these questions. This was how human life had been long before he'd been born, and it'd be like this long after he was killed or died. Just the caves and the runs of the Suppliers. Him and his little ten-man team.
You're not exactly a legion.
Rory jumped a little in his position sitting up against a low, stone wall. Sure, he was exhausted, but that was no reason to go drifting off to sleep. He owed that at least to the others. They were trusting him. Just like all those people in 'Lower Leadworth' were counting on these supplies getting back. Back…home.
He wasn't sure if it felt right to call the tunnels 'home'. It didn't feel much like a home anymore, even if he'd grown up there, more like a rest stop. A base. When Rory thought of home, he pictured clean rooms with painted walls, proper furniture, a real bed, a constant comforting hum that seemed to sing in the air through ages and distance itself—no matter how bizarre that seemed. What was wrong with him today?
He felt completely muddled, like he was looking at everything through warped glass. How many times had he slept through the cold nights on the scorched ground with nothing but the clothes on his back to insulate him, only waking for his shift of guard duty? Too many to count, and yet today felt surreal- like all this was brand new and unexpected to Rory Williams. He felt a stranger in his own life.
Rory was left to ponder this for the remaining two hours of his shift. Then, he set about waking the men. "The community needs these supplies, so we're going to have to make the rest of the trip by nightfall. It's a long trip, but I think we can manage." They were having to go out further and further to look for supplies these days. Some of the older adults were saying they might have to dig more tunnels and relocate. He didn't see how they could; they were already stretched thin as it was in terms of workers, and they'd already been having disagreements with the communities from Glouchester.
Those were the worst, he felt. Kicking, wrestling, swiping, struggling at some unknown man in the dirt over a dusty can of vegetables or a battered box of awfully stale cereal. Who was he to say his people needed it more? He would choose not to engage in these struggles if it weren't for his dad and…
Well, there was a girl. He remembered the day she and her mother had descended into the tunnels—Amelia Pond. She was beautiful. He'd thought it then, and he certainly thought it now. He guessed that sort of made him like one of those ancient warriors or soldiers the old folks told stories of, who would ride out to battle with thoughts of a lady to bring them back home.
But she didn't even know he existed. And everyone seemed certain she would end up with that Jeff bloke, though it made his stomach turn just to think of it. Whatever may happen, however, he would continue to protect her and the community. Even if it might break his heart.
Why do you have to be so…human?
He shook his head again and rubbed at his face in an effort to wake himself up. The calloused skin of his hand scraped against his chin, where stubble was quickly growing into something more of a beard. For some reason that made him feel odd.
They were creeping along now, hugging broken bits of walls and scattered trees. It was in the process of shaking his head that he looked up.
"Down!" He hissed, and they all dropped to the ground, watching fearfully as a circular pod zoomed by overhead.
"Sontaran," one of the men next to him growled, and it sounded like a curse. "Why don't we ever grab a gun, eh? Teach those monsters a lesson."
"Whatever weapon we found wouldn't be a match for them," Rory explained tiredly. "And it'd be a waste of space in our packs." He didn't like hiding any more than the rest of them, but what else could they do?
The team continued on after a while in silence, one eye always trained on the sky. They were forced to halt a couple more times and it was already growing dark before they made it back.
"Who goes there?" It was the guard that they stationed whenever making these runs. Sure, he couldn't do much if someone other than the team showed up, but he would sound the alarm for evacuation.
"It's us," he said as they slowly approached.
"Yes, it is," the guard agreed as his hand opened up. Rory's eyes widened.
"Scatter!"
It was mass chaos as they all ran back for the trees and the Auton opened fire. He tried not to think about what must have happened to the actual guard. Why did these aliens enjoy taking potshots at them so much? They weren't doing anything!
"Take this!" The man from before shouted, throwing a rock at the plastic invention. It tipped over, but not before firing off one last shot. It hit the man in his knee. "Ah!"
Rory raced to his side as he crumpled and the other men went to ensure the Auton's destruction. "It's going to be ok," he reassured, no matter how untrue it was. He managed to stop his hands from shaking as he ripped a strip of cloth from the man's shirt and tied it around the bleeding wound.
"Rory!" Another man yelled, and he looked to see the others working to roll the stone hiding the entrance to the caves.
"I'm coming!" He called, slinging the injured man's arm around his shoulders and lifting them both up.
"Just leave me," his fellow team member said, but Rory stubbornly shook his head.
"I won't. You're not dead, and you're not going to die." He staggered over to the open entrance as the others jumped down. They then turned and reached up, so Rory gathered the man in his arms and lowered him, straining to make it slow and as smooth as possible. The supply team finally had him, so he jumped down as well.
Rory knew he was giving some kind of orders, but he honestly didn't care. He just felt so drained- they'd lost one man, and the other would likely never walk again. He saw a woman waiting out of the corner of his eye, so he slipped the pack from his shoulders and held it out, not wanting to be rude but not wanting to meet her eyes. Whatever was in them, curiosity or pity or fear, he didn't think he could take it. "Ma'am."
When she did not reach for the pack, however, Rory looked up at her, and it stole the breath from his lungs. It was Amelia Pond, staring at him with wonder and- dare he hope…?
"Rory," she said in a hushed voice, and it acted both as a balm on his depressed spirit and sped up his heart.
"Um- hi," he replied, immediately feeling incredibly stupid. She actually knew his name and the first thing he could think of was hi? No wonder everyone thought she was going to end up with Jeff.
It would have been you, Rory. It should have been you!
He shook his head a third time that day, and this allowed him to realize she was looking at him now almost in disappointment. What had he done wrong?
"Yeah, hi," she said. He was about to apologize for whatever it was when she asked, "Are you ok? You're not hurt, yeah?"
"No- no, I'm fine," he was quick to assure her, and felt a strange warmth at the look of relief on her face. She looked like she wanted to say more, but one of the women had come back and impatiently took the pack still hanging limply from his hands, causing them both to jump and look away. Rory was sure his face was red. When he chanced a glance, he saw her cheeks were nearly the color of her hair.
He'd always loved that about her…
"Could we, uh, talk?" She asked quietly, tilting her head in the direction of the tunnels. This at least distracted him from his disconcerting thoughts of when exactly he'd started to truly love Amelia Pond. He always admired her—but he barely knew her!
"Talk?" He asked, blinking once. "Right! Yes- talking would be, um, good," he stammered, and though she rolled her eyes she was smiling at him, buoying his confidence enough to lead her down the tunnels. His dad was likely to be helping sort supplies, so he brought them to his quarters in Lower Leadworth. Rory took one of the candles and brought it into his room and they settled on his cot sitting across from each other.
"I sort of woke up feeling- odd," Amelia began, and he waited silently for clarification. "I didn't know where I was or why I was there, you know?"
He wanted to say he didn't, because it sounded crazy—but hadn't that been exactly how he was feeling this morning?
"And even now I feel like something's wrong," she continued, and he watched her nervous face in the flickering light. "Like this isn't what should be happening—I keep thinking about some- some other life, Rory, and I just—"
"Amelia," he couldn't keep from interrupting, and for some reason this caused her to flinch and fall silent. "Why are you telling me this? Why are you talking to me?"
"Rory," she said, sounding very urgent and looking extremely pale. "Please tell me you remember me."
"Well, of course I do," he said in mild confusion, "You're Amelia Pond—"
"No! No, I'm—I know you barely know me, Rory, but please! It's me. It's Amy," she pleaded, grabbing his hands and holding tight. He thought she was quite close to tears.
"I- I'm sorry," he said, truly feeling guilty for the crushed look on her face. "But I really don't know what you're talking about."
"Rory, please, you have to remember," she spoke with desperation, before suddenly she stopped, dropping his hands and looking at something far away and not quite there. "You have to remember." She mouthed the words as if recalling them from somewhere else, and he could only watch as she leapt up and started pacing. "What- remember what?" She muttered in frustration.
"Amy," he said in a worried tone, and was struck by how familiar it felt. And he'd called her Amy.
She looked at him with a smile. "Yes- yes, that's me! Please, Rory, you have to try!"
"Try what? Try what?" Yes, he'd been feeling odd, too, but he could barely make sense of any of it. How could she expect him to remember? But he so wanted to, if it'd make her happy. And, as he looked at her…
"Rory Williams, from Leadworth—" she said, and he found himself finishing.
"Your boyfriend." They were both completely silent save for breathing for a long moment. And then at once, they launched at each other, meeting somewhere in the middle. He wrapped his arms around her familiar frame as she clung just as desperately. "Amy- oh Amy, how did I forget—"
"Shut up," she ordered, pulling back and crashing their lips together. And this was ok—they were in an underground tunnel in a terrible place full of terrible frightening things and he was still having trouble sorting out just how he knew her so well—they were together. After a time they broke apart.
"We should—"
"Breathe, yeah."
Amy and Rory stared at each other. How had they both thought that?
"Your hair's longer than I expected," she remarked with a rueful smile, touching one hand to his cheek.
"Yours is shorter," he reminded, and they each chuckled before embracing tightly again, her head tucked under his too-scruffy chin, and he running comforting fingers through too-short strands. They ended up sitting back on his bed like this, not speaking for some time. "So…we both remember having this sort of…other-life," he mused out loud. "What do we do about it?"
Amy appeared to be thinking on it before nodding decisively. "London."
"What?" He looked down at her in his arms, but Amy pulled back so they could see each other eye-to-eye.
"Well we can't do anything while we're stuck in Lower Leadworth," she reasoned. "So maybe we can find out more if we go to the city."
"Amy, cities are where they're based. It's where they live," he tried to argue, but she was as determined as always.
"And it's where we're more likely to find some answers. Come on, Rory, I need your help." Well that really wasn't fair, was it? He'd do anything to help her.
"Alright," he acquiesced reluctantly, and tried his best not to return her victorious grin. "But we're going to have to be really careful."
"Of course," she agreed, but any further conversation was cut off by the sound of the front door being moved aside. Their eyes widened as they heard a man—Brian Williams—struggling with the wood plank, and not knowing what else to do, Rory blew out the candle, leaving them in darkness.
"Rory, are you in?" They heard Mr. Williams call, and he swallowed nervously.
"Yeah, dad. Um, I'm trying to sleep."
"I guess you would be tired," was the reply. Rory gave a slight jump and barely suppressed a yelp of surprise as Amy settled down on the cot silently and patted the space next to her. What if they got caught? But she couldn't leave now, his dad would see her! "Good night, Rory."
"Good- good night, dad," Rory managed, finally giving up and lying down next to his girlfriend—his fiancé. Amy grinned at him in the dim light provided by Brian's single candle outside. That was the last he saw before his father blew it out.
"Good night, Rory," Amy whispered.
"Good night, Amy," he breathed just as quietly.
Rory honestly did not think he would sleep a wink that night, he was so nervous, but the next thing he knew, the candles were relit and Amy was gently shaking him awake. "Your dad just left," she told him. "Time to go."
She must have pulled his boots off in the night, so he set to work refastening them as Amy dropped his pack next to him and pulled one on herself. "How did you—"
"Snuck down to the Supply Room. We've got enough food for a couple days, didn't want to take anymore," she admitted, and they exchanged guilty glances. The two then set off for the entrance. It was tough work getting the stone to roll by themselves, but after one last mighty tug they got it open. Rory climbed back up to the surface, glancing around carefully for any suspicious movement.
"It can take some getting used to," he warned Amy as he reached down to pull her up. She was even thinner than he remembered from the other-life, probably due to the scant rations of the tunnels they'd grown up in, so it wasn't difficult. "It's really bright and the air's way cleaner and—"
But by this time Amy had cleared the opening and gasped. Rory could only watch as she knelt on the ground next to him, staring with wide eyes and taking it all in.
"It's amazing…" she murmured, "And terrible."
So the Ponds have started on an epic journey! What will they find when they reach London—who knows? Well, I do, but that's beside the point. At any rate, thanks once again for the feedback. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review!