Someone was calling his name. It echoed softly, as if coming from a great distance, but as soon as he was aware of it, it seemed to grow in strength. He didn't want it to do that, and he grunted softly, raising a tired hand to wave the offending sound away. He wanted to go back to sleep. The voice was having none of it.
"Rory?" it said again, more urgently this time. Louder as well. "Rory!"
"What?" he moaned, his voice rasping in his throat as he dragged the word out. He forced his eyes open, squinting at a blur of shapes. One of the shapes started to solidify until the Doctor was crouched beside him, hovering a few inches from his face and looking very worried. "What…?" he started and stopped. Words were difficult at the moment and he was suddenly aware that he was lying in the snow. It was wet and very cold. "What happened?" he tried again.
"Can you sit up?" the Doctor asked.
Rory made a noise of assent and allowed the Doctor to slowly pull him into a sitting position, leaving one hand on his back to steady him. Near to, he noticed that the Doctor was looking rather peaky. "You look awful," he croaked.
"Thank you," the Doctor said. "I doubt I look half as bad as you do. Are you okay?"
Rory considered before shaking his head slowly. Immediately regretting the action, he winced and shut his eyes. "My head is killing me," he said. The Doctor seemed a bit calmer now that Rory was speaking, but he still looked concerned. Was it him he was worried about? He tried to remember what might have happened to make the Doctor so worried, but his brain protested the effort. "What happened?" he asked again.
"Oh, you know, fought a psychic battle with a memory-stealing energy being. Stuff like that."
"Right." The details were a little fuzzy, but Rory recalled the encounter with the Winter Demon. Most of it, anyway. Looking down in hopes of easing the pressure in his head, Rory's eyes settled on his jeans. The denim was wet, probably from all this snow, with dirt ground into it and a rip travelling almost the width of his knee. He watched the flap of fabric move up and down gently in the breeze. Amy was going to be cross about that. She had a habit of complaining about TARDIS life being hell on their wardrobes, and she'd only bought these for him last time she'd been out shopping, even making a joke to the saleswoman about running away from aliens. Wait, how did he…? He snapped his head up to look at the Doctor, adrenaline shoving away the pain. "I remember."
"That's good," the Doctor said, still looking worried. "That was just a few minutes ago, so I was hoping you would…"
"No," Rory interrupted. "I remember," he said pointedly.
The Doctor stared at him for a long moment. Then the penny dropped and a massive grin spread across his face. "Ha! It worked!" he crowed. "It worked!" Beaming, he grabbed Rory's head with both hands and pulled him forward, planting a delighted kiss on his forehead. Rory was so pleased to have his memories back that he didn't bother to swat him away as he normally would have done. The Doctor sat back, still smiling. "Oh, I'm good," he told Rory. "I'm very good."
"You got my memories back?"
"I did," the Doctor nodded, looking extremely pleased with himself.
"How?"
"Well," the Doctor explained. "Once I made contact with the Demon—which would have been much harder without you distracting him, well done—I realized that your memories were all still in there. It was using them, so it kept them all intact. Since they were all still together, I was able to pull them out and put them back in you. That was why I needed your hand—I had to have physical contact to make the link."
"So it's all back?"
"All 1,946 years of it," the Doctor said.
"Thank you," Rory said. The Doctor made a gesture as if to say it was nothing. "No really, thank you," Rory repeated earnestly. He didn't just remember his old life, but everything that had happened in the four days since he'd lost it as well. "I…" His voice was suddenly shaky, overcome with gratitude.
"You're welcome," the Doctor said sincerely, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling warmly. "Shall we go and give Amy the good news?"
"Yeah," Rory said with a smile, and the Doctor jumped up, grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. Spots swam across his vision, and the moment he was upright and the Doctor's hand was off his arm, he crumpled to the ground again.
"Oh," the Doctor said, making a face. "Right. Sorry. Let's try that again. I'll hold on this time, shall I?"
Rory grunted in agreement and the Doctor grabbed him under the arms and pulled him slowly up, hooking one of Rory's arms over his shoulder. When he was standing again, the Doctor wrapped his free hand around Rory's waist to steady him. "Better?" he asked.
Rory nodded. His vision had gone blurry again and his head was spinning, but he felt secure enough. "Why…?" he began, knowing the Doctor would fill in the rest of the question.
The Doctor shifted Rory's arm a bit and began to walk slowly. Rory's feet followed along automatically. "Your brain is sort of overloading at the moment. Nothing's really working properly," he explained.
"That sounds bad," Rory said.
"Oh, no, it's not," the Doctor assured him. "It's like…" He trailed off, searching for an appropriate metaphor. "It's like when you're in a dark room and you step out into the sun, and you can't see for a bit because your eyes are adjusting to the light. That's what your brain's doing."
When it was put that way, it didn't sound as bad. "Okay."
"Your brain has had a lot thrown at it in a very short time," the Doctor continued. "It took you years and years to get all of those memories and now they've been thrust back in in a matter of seconds. Also," he added, sounding slightly sheepish. "I was in a bit of a rush, so I just sort of chucked everything in all at once instead of putting it back where it's supposed to be, so your brain's trying to sort through it all. It's diverting energy away from things like remembering how to walk or stand up, and using it to process what you've just gotten back. Give it the chance to do that, and then you'll be fine," he assured him.
"Right."
"I should also probably mention that once this adrenaline rush wears off, it's very likely that you're going to pass out," the Doctor warned. "It'll be easier for your brain to reorganize everything if you're unconscious."
"Good to know," Rory said, unable to keep a touch of sarcasm out of his voice.
"Don't worry," the Doctor assured him with a smile. "I'll catch you."
"Thanks." His vision was clearing up again and he noticed they were getting to a thinner part of the woods. In the better light, the lack of colour in the Doctor's face was even more pronounced. He looked as tired as Rory felt, which couldn't be good. "Doctor, are you okay?"
"Ever the nurse," the Doctor said with a fond chuckle. "I'm fine." Rory raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Really. Psychic battles are very draining, but I'm just tired. All I need is a good sleep," the Doctor assured him. "And maybe some tea. No, tea first, a couple of Jammie Dodgers, and then sleep."
"That sounds really good," Rory said, focusing on keeping his eyes open and his feet moving. Yes, sleep sounded wonderful.
The Doctor smiled. "Well, if you fall asleep before we get back to the TARDIS, you can have your Jammie Dodger after."
Amy looked down nervously at her watch. It hadn't even been an hour since they'd gone into the woods. Was that too long? Should she be worried? Stupid question—she'd been worried before they went in. And the Doctor telling her not to worry was seldom a reason to actually do so. Right. However long it took to fight an energy being, it had been long enough. She sprang to her feet and stepped toward the wood. Before she got to the bottom of the rise where she'd been sitting and watching the trees, the Doctor and Rory stepped out into the sunlight.
She broke into a run, smiling in relief to see them both. She stopped smiling when she got closer—they were alive, and they didn't have the dazed sort of look that would suggest they'd lost their memories, but they looked dreadful. The Doctor's face was ashen, with dark circles under his eyes. Rory looked almost as pale as the Doctor, and the way the Doctor was holding on to him and the way his feet dragged clumsily across the ground told her he was having a good deal of trouble walking.
"Doctor! Rory!" she called as she approached them. "What happened?"
They looked up at the sound of her voice and she came to a stop in front of them. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" she demanded, reaching out a hand.
"Amy!" Rory said, smiling widely. He pushed himself off of the Doctor and swung his weight forward, catching himself with both hands on her shoulders. He pulled her into a crushing hug and she stumbled a bit before finding her footing to support the weight of him leaning against her. She hugged him back, registering that he was wet and rather dirty. He remembered her, though. That was good. The Demon hadn't gotten him, then, but what had they done to get in such a state?
She pulled back slowly, making sure to keep a firm grip on him, as he still seemed rather wobbly. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"Absolutely brilliant," he told her with a slightly manic grin. Before she could respond he leaned forward and was kissing her the way he had when she'd come out of the Pandorica, a deep, longing, desperate and overjoyed kiss that left her with no thought but to get her arms around him as fast as she could and never ever let him go.
Though she could have gone on kissing him forever, at last the need for air forced her to pull away. "Rory," she said with a breathless smile. She didn't mind it in the least, but where had that come from? "What…?"
"Amy," he said, still smiling and struggling to catch his own breath. "It's me. I'm back." She wasn't quite following him. "I remember," he told her.
"You…" She trailed off, speechless. Her mouth gaping, she turned to the Doctor for confirmation, and he nodded, smiling proudly. An unbelieving smile spread across her own face as she turned back to Rory. "You remember?" she whispered.
"Everything," he said. "It's all back."
She put up a hand to the side of his face and looked deep into his eyes. He really was there—the way he used to look at her (the way he'd always looked at her), the hint of the old soul that lingered in the depths of his eyes—he was her Rory again. Happy tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. "You're back," she said with a watery smile.
"I'm back," he repeated, grinning from ear to ear. He was starting to sway even as he held on to her, and all of a sudden his knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed in a heap in the grass.
She squeaked in alarm and darted forward, but the Doctor was already there. He had caught Rory by the arms before his head hit the ground, and lowered him down gently the last few inches. "You okay?" he asked.
"Fine," Rory said. "You did catch me," he added, sounding a bit surprised.
"No, that's not 'fine'," Amy protested. "What—?"
The Doctor cut her off. "In a minute." He was moving to pull Rory back to his feet, but Rory waved him away.
"Actually," Rory said a bit blearily. "I think I should probably just stay down here."
"Why?" Amy demanded.
" 's not as far to fall," he slurred before his eyes rolled back and he blacked out.
"Rory?" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside him. "Doctor, what—?"
"He's fine, Amy," the Doctor assured her, waving his sonic screwdriver back and forth over her husband. She gave him a deadly glare that demanded he start explaining very quickly, and he hurried on. "Okay, yes, he is unconscious, but I was expecting that. It's actually quite helpful, because his brain can get back in order faster this way." He turned to her with a smile. "Technically, he should have done this earlier, but he was so excited about seeing you again that the adrenaline kept him going."
"So this is helpful unconsciousness?" Amy asked, still rather sceptical. The Doctor nodded. "Mm-hmm. So, tell me what's going on. He looks awful. So do you, by the way. What happened in there?"
"It's quite a long story," the Doctor began.
She moved to cradle Rory's head in her lap and gestured down at him. "Well, we're not going anywhere, are we?"
"True," the Doctor agreed, sitting down next to her in the grass. He launched into an explanation of their trek through the wood and finding the Demon, telling her how it had taunted them by taking on Rory's image. "Actually, that turned out to be quite useful. Not that it looked like Rory, but that it pulled together into a body. Its energy was all focused into one spot, which made it much easier for me to deal with." He continued, mentioning how he had taken advantage of Rory distracting the creature to ferret out its vulnerable spots and slip past its psychic barriers, and how he had found Rory's memories still intact inside the Demon and managed to get them back into Rory's head.
"So," Amy interrupted. "If Rory got his memories back, does that mean everyone else did as well?"
The Doctor's smile faded. "No," he said. "I was only able to put Rory's back because he was actually there to receive them. I couldn't have held on to any of the other memories long enough to track down who they belonged to and physically put them back—would have fried my brain. Even Rory's—well, especially Rory's, as many as there are—if he hadn't been right there, I wouldn't have been able to put them back." He looked down sadly at his shoes.
Amy sighed. She wished she hadn't brought it up—she knew how much it hurt him not to be able to save everyone. She reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey," she said softly. "You stopped it. It's not going to be able to do this to anyone, ever again. And you saved Rory." The happy tears were back, trickling from the corners of her eyes. She made no attempt to stop them. "You gave him back to me. Thank you."
He looked down at Rory, then up and her with a small smile. "I did, didn't I? I guess that counts for something." His voice didn't sound exactly steady either.
"You bet it does," she assured him, pulling him into a sideways hug and kissing the top of his head. She ruffled his hair before pushing him upright again, and he tried to act affronted as he brushed it back into place. "So what happened next?" she asked.
"Well," he said. "I was already well into the Demon's mind by then, and taking Rory's memories out of it had quite a destabilizing effect. It left a hole, if you will, and I was able to push at the edges of the hole and make it bigger. That pushed all of the energy it had gotten from stolen memories apart, and eventually it was far enough that the bits started losing contact with each other and they just drifted further and further apart until they broke and it just sort of dispersed. And since it was made of energy, well, there was nothing left."
"So why do you look so terrible?" Amy asked. "Rory, you've explained, but I still don't understand what happened to you."
"I've just told you, Pond," the Doctor sighed. "I'll admit, describing a psychic battle doesn't sound like an awful lot, but it is exhausting. All the bits of energy didn't want to be pushed apart—that took a lot of work. And I had to fight the whole time to keep the Demon from getting into my head. And I had to make sure I got all of Rory's memories and see that there weren't anyone else's mixed in, and then I had to put them back in his head." He sighed again. "I am absolutely knackered."
Amy smiled. "You must be tired. I don't think you've ever admitted that you needed so much as a nap."
"Just because I sleep less than you doesn't mean I don't sleep," he huffed.
Amy laughed. She looked down at Rory, absently running her fingers through his hair. "I think we're going to be here a while. Go on and lie down if you want."
The Doctor gave her an incredulous look. "I'm not sleeping out here," he informed her. "It's muddy, the grass is itchy, and it's very cold."
"It is quite cold," Amy agreed. Rory was wet from the melted snow and though the grass sheltered them very slightly from the wind, she didn't think it would do much good. She didn't want him getting sick, or the Doctor either (who was just as wet as Rory and who made an awful patient), and she didn't really fancy sitting out in the cold much longer. "So, what, are we going to carry Rory back to the TARDIS?"
"I suppose we'll have to. He couldn't have passed out nearer the TARDIS," the Doctor sighed. "It's a bit far, and he's awfully heavy for being that skinny. Ow!"
Amy had just smacked him on the shoulder.