I apologize for the long wait, but school and such had gotten hectic. Thank you all for the lovely reviews. I'm making this story more AU, with only brief mentions to the actual series. The next chapter will focus on Rory whilst all of this happened to Amy and the Doctor. And to the reviewer who asked if this would be Doctor/Rory, it's basically what you interpret as.
Cold Blood
Amy had locked herself in Rory's room, crying hysterically. The Doctor tried his best not to break down and join her in her tears.
Rory was gone. Dead and sucked into the crack, erasing him from time. And it was all his fault.
A Silurian shot at him, and perfect, brave Rory, pushed him out of the way, taking the fatal blow. The Doctor would simply regenerate and carry on. There was no carrying on for Rory.
He closed his eyes and remembered Amy hugging Rory's body to her.
"You're so beautiful," he choked out.
"No, Rory, please, come on. I love you," she begged him. She turned to the Doctor' green eyes, desperate.
"Doctor, do something," she pleaded.
"I can't do anything," he couldn't move from his spot. His eyes were fixed on the crack threatening to consume them all.
"Doctor please," she cried, cradling Rory in her arms.
"Amy, go, it's okay," Rory assured her breathlessly.
"How is my life ever going to be okay without you?" she mumbled miserably.
"I love you," he said finally. He looked her in the eye, and his gaze shifted.
He looked past Amy's shoulder, straight at the Doctor, who couldn't meet his gaze.
He took one last look at Amy before his eyes closed.
"No! NO!" the tears flowed down her face.
The Doctor wasn't sure how, but he managed to drag her to the TARDIS. She sat on the floor, still crying. He went back to the cave to get Rory. The least they could do was give him a proper funeral on Earth. It was too late. The light from the crack had enveloped him and he was gone. The Doctor felt his hearts nearly stop, and break into a thousand pieces.
The little boy with the innocent bright blue eyes was gone, and it was all his fault. Amy wouldn't even remember her fiancé.
He went back into the TARDIS to see Amy rocking back and forth, as if gone mad.
"Amy," he said, trying to check if she remembered Rory.
"What is the point of you?" she asked, crazed.
"I'm so sorry," he said weakly. There was nothing else he could say. What was the point of him?
"Rory worshipped you. You may as well have hung up the sun and the stars yourself, the way he thought of you," she laughed bitterly. Her voice was hoarse from the crying.
"You still remember him," he said in confusion.
"You don't just forget the man you love, Doctor," she spat. The venom in her voice mixed with the sadness.
He would usually say that because of the cracks, she wasn't even supposed to remember Rory. But she was a time traveler now, so maybe that was why. He wasn't sure. He just knew to remain quiet at this very moment.
The spunky Amy Pond was reduced to a puddle of tears because of him.
She picked herself off of the floor and rushed up the stairs. He heard a slam and winced.
He sunk onto the stairs and held his head in his hands. He could cry now, when no one could see him.
He realised that no one would remember Rory ever existed. Funny Rory, gorgeous Rory. He and Amy would be the only ones. And he was pretty sure Amy hated him. He hated himself, too.
He knocked on the door to Amy's room. He figured she'd want to go home. There was no answer and he tentatively opened the door. She wasn't in there. The Doctor frowned, still red-eyed from his solitary crying. He turned to face Rory's door.
His chest constricted again and he rapped his knuckles on the door lightly. He opened the door to find Amy Pond sitting in the middle of Rory's bed, wearing his jacket, clutching a photo of the two of them.
She looked up at him, eyes red and puffy. She offered a weak smile before trying to fight the tears.
"Sorry I snapped at you," she said quietly.
"You have every right. I'm angry with myself, too," he admitted. He dared not venture into the room because it still felt like Rory had popped out for a moment, to return later. Hell, it smelled like Rory. Grassy, earthy, with a hint of something he couldn't quite place.
"He really loved you, you know," Amy wiped her face.
"Yeah," the Doctor said, mind wandering to the moment he met Rory. The awe in his eyes and the lunch he'd offered him. The way he stared right at him as he took his final breaths.
"We're in Leadworth," he said after a few moments of silence.
Amy nodded her thanks and stood shakily. While the Doctor cried in the console room, she'd packed her bags in a hurry. She kept Rory's jacket around her shoulders and took the picture.
"Is there anything else you'd like to take?" he asked her gently.
She didn't answer.
"No one's gonna remember him, are they?" she looked as if she was about to fall apart all over again.
The Doctor's silence was the only answer she needed. She nodded slightly and brushed past the Time Lord.
They were outside of Amy's house. It was her wedding day, but she didn't have a groom. Her heart ached and the Doctor stood behind her.
"If you need to talk to someone, call," he said. It wasn't a request or a demand. His voice was thick with grief and Amy realized that the alien was alone once again, his best friend dead.
She hugged him briefly and smiled as best she could.
"Goodbye, Doctor."
He watched as the only living reminder of Rory's existence disappeared into her house, shoulders shaking as she walked away from the man who destroyed her life.
He opened his eyes, gasping for breath. He was just dying in Amy's arms, and now he was in an unrecognizable place.
He was on something soft. He felt heavier than usual. He was wearing sandals (he never wore sandals) and he soon realized he was in a tent.
Rory stood up, a bit woozy. Didn't he just die? Weren't they in a cave?
Suddenly, a man dressed in a centurion outfit barged in.
"Roranicus, the general seeks your presence," the man said.
Roranicus? Holy crap. He was a Centurion of the Roman Army. He nodded, and his head ached.
He remembered a fire, tall marble columns, an older man he called 'father' (who wasn't Mr Williams), training, and a vast knowledge in weaponry. Whose memories were those, because they sure weren't his?
Rory weakly followed the man outside of the tent. All around them were similar tents and Roman soldiers, either practicing their sword fighting or lounging around on the grass. They were high up on the hill, overlooking an ocean. Rory didn't know if it was the Adriatic or Mediterranean. He was sure he'd find out soon enough.
Her parents didn't know why she came hope teary-eyed and pale. They asked her what the matter was, and she just shook her head, running up the stairs.
She took a shower and put on her sweats. Rory's jacket hung on the back of her chair. She closed her eyes, pretending he would be back at any moment. She could fool herself, if only for a little bit. Her wedding dress still hung in her closet, mocking her.
She went downstairs and found a carton of ice cream in the freezer. She took it, and grabbed a spoon.
"Amelia, what's wrong?" her mother sounded concerned.
"I just need time to myself," Amy offered a quick smile, "get my life in perspective."
"Is it about the art internship at the museum? Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get it," her mother said reassuringly.
She'd forgotten about the internship. She'd been so preoccupied with the wedding and Rory and traveling, it'd completely escaped her mind.
She didn't think anything else could occupy her mind except for Rory now.
Back in her room, she looked at the jacket, as if it was mocking her like the wedding dress. Her ring was still on her finger, and she refused to take it off. She set the ice cream aside and wrapped the jacket around her once more.
It smelled like Rory. Grassy, and a bit like soap. Amy rummaged through her drawers, hitting the "Rory" drawer. Inside were a few of his shirts, a jumper, and spare underwear. How was he gone? His belongings were still there. Proof that he existed. He'd come back. She knew he would.
A fresh wave of grief overcame her, and she slid onto the carpeted floor, crying.
The Doctor was in the kitchen, trying to find fish fingers and custard. He could practically see Amy and Rory teasing each other at the counter, mocking his eating habits. He turned around to chastise them, only to see the counter empty.
There were, however, three plates on the counter, as usual.
The TARDIS hummed and the Doctor sighed.
"I know, love, I know," he mumbled.
He was just a mad man with his box, all alone, traveling through time and space.
Rory's teeth clenched. He couldn't believe he was going into battle. His pulse quickened and he felt nauseous.
The commanding officer led the charge on the invaders.
Without thinking, Rory's feet led him to the middle of the battle. His hands skilfully swung the gladius around, hitting opponent after opponent. This was wrong on so many levels. He wasn't a warrior. He was Rory Williams, doctor in training.
He only hoped that the Doctor would find him and take him home. The Doctor always came back for him. He just had to wait it out. Yes, the Doctor would come back for him. He knew it.
Months passed and Amy's life returned to a sort of normalcy. She'd wake up, eat breakfast with her parents, go to class, then go to the museum for her internship. She put on a happy façade, a brave face. She couldn't let her parents know that something was bothering her.
Her parents began to worry when she would claim to not be hungry, or when she stared off into the distance. Her dreams were plagued by watching Rory die. Over. And. Over. And. Over.
"Rory, come back, please," she cried in her sleep.
"Please, Doctor, save him, please," she begged, tossing and turning on the bed.
"He can't die. Rory," she whimpered pitifully, "I love you."
She sat upright in bed, fear evident in her eyes.
Mrs Pond knew something was wrong with her daughter. Whatever it was, she hoped she'd get over it.
Amy didn't get over it. She found herself holding her mobile to her ear, twitching.
"Doctor? Can you come get me please?" her voice cracked as she spoke.
Minutes later, a blue box appeared in front of her house, in the middle of the night.
The Doctor appeared, looking the same as ever. His eyes widened in shock as Amy Pond hugged him tightly, shoulders shaking.
"There, there, Pond," he patted her back, "we'll get through this."
She snorted (such a very Rory thing to do) and looked at him with glassy eyes.
"You're the only one I can talk to," she said quietly.
The two people who loved Rory Williams the most, the only two people who remembered him, were together again on the TARDIS.
Amy had taken over Rory's old room as her own. It comforted her to see his belongings. He was still out there, she was sure of it.
She'd met Vincent Van Gogh, one of Rory's favorite artists. It took all her self-control not to yell at the man. There he was, depressed and suicidal, when Rory had his life stolen from him.
Sometimes the Doctor would catch her staring off into the distance wistfully. They would hear a noise and both would turn around, hoping to see Rory barge through the doorway clumsily.
It never happened.
This particular evening, after the Doctor spent some time posing as a human while Amy was stuck in the TARDIS, the Doctor stood in front of the stove, pretending to cook while the TARDIS did all of the cooking.
Amy set the table. Three plates, three sets of utensils, three cups. It was all laid out on the counter. Amy sat on a chair, swinging her legs, apparently content for that brief moment.
The Doctor turned around and his eyes narrowed at the three plates she'd set out. He clutched the edge of the counter, pale.
"Amy," he said in a low voice. She had forgotten Rory was gone. That only the two of them were left.
She looked confused for a moment before looking at the counter. Her expression darkened and her eyes watered. The Doctor didn't move to put the plate back.
"He'll be back," she said, determined.
"Amy, he died," the Doctor closed his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to believe her. That one day they'd find Rory and everything would be all right again.
"What happens when all hope is gone, Doctor? What would be the point of going on if you can't even hope to see the one you love ever again?" Amy asked with sad, green eyes.
The Doctor smiled weakly and nodded. He had never expected Amy Pond to be so wise and sombre when he had met her that day when she came running out of Rory's house, holding him by the shirt threateningly. Or when they had met again and she seemed content to follow Rory around. But that was because she loved Rory, and he loved her. The Doctor saw that soon enough, but she was still a regular girl. Now she looked older than her twenty-one years. She hadn't smiled in months, not really. He'd broken Amy Pond, and he felt like a monster.
Rory was so careful about everything, but he threw caution to the wind when he boarded the TARDIS. He cared about everyone else more than himself, and his selflessness is what got him killed. Now Amy liked to throw herself into adventure after adventure, not even caring if she got hurt. Sometimes the Doctor thought she was trying to get herself killed.
What had she said? That a life without Rory wasn't really a life worth living? He had to admit she was right.
It was all his fault that she had to deal with the death of her beloved.
He was glad Amy had taken refuge in Rory's room, because he couldn't stand the sight of the abandoned room of another one of his lost companions. He seemed to be going through a lot of them lately.
The Doctor set food on the counter. Amy picked at it, gaunt and pale. The Doctor was in no mood to eat, either.
Rory Williams's fiancée and best friend sat in silence, still half-expecting him to walk through the door.
On that downer note, please review. The next chapter will be about Rory the plastic Roman and my theories on what happened to him in that time frame.