A/N: This chapter should be rated T for language and theme

"And, see, we can put the tables here... and here..." Amy explained, gesturing with her pen at the drawing she'd made on the napkin in front of him. "And here."

Sometimes, he swore, if they had one more discussion about wedding plans... He looked up across the table at her and tried to smile. Hopefully, his thoughts weren't too obvious. That was one discussion he really didn't want to have with her.

The pub door banged open and he and Amy both turned to watch the newcomer stumble into the room, bringing with him a blast of wind and rain from outside. "That's Martin Stump," Amy told him.

He looked back at her. "Yeah?"

"So," she explained. "Mels was having dinner with him tonight."

Rory swiveled in his seat to get a better view of Martin. "Shit." The man was sporting a bloody nose and had a large rip down the back of his jacket. It certainly looked like their friend's handiwork.

"Go and talk to him. Find out what's happened to her," Amy ordered.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Who else? Now go."

He knew there was no arguing with that look. Sliding out of his chair, he crossed to the bar. "Hey, Martin." The other man just glared at him. "Where's Mels?"

Martin muttered something under his breath which sounded suspiciously like, "That teasing bitch can go to hell."

"Excuse me?" Rory asked.

"I said," Martin said, more clearly this time. "Who the hell cares?"

"Let's just say I do. So, where is she?"

Martin laughed. Once. Humorlessly. "What you gonna do if I don't talk, nurse boy? Deck me?"

Rory shook his head. "No. But if you tell me where she is, right now, I can promise you she won't be filing charges in the morning."

Martin glared at him again for a minute. Rory stared back. Finally, the other man broke. "Fine. Whatever. She's out by Dawson Lane. Took off outta my car. No way in hell was I running after her. 'Specially not in that," he added, nodding toward the window and the storm outside.

"Of course not." And, swallowing the rest of what he wanted to say, Rory headed back to Amy.

"Well, go after her, then," Amy said as soon as he'd repeated the conversation to her. "I'll wait here."

"Why can't you – ?" he began, only he knew that look too. "Fine. I'll be back." And, grabbing his coat from off the back of his chair, he headed out the door and into the rain.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

He found her right were Martin had said he would, walking along the side of the road, head down against the driving rain. "Hey, Mels!" he called, pulling up alongside her.

She looked up just long enough to wave him away. Then, tucking her chin back down to her chest, she continued walking.

He pulled off again a few meters down, further onto the shoulder this time, and threw open the passenger side door. She'd have to walk off into the ditch or onto the lane to get around him this time.

She didn't even try. When she reached his car, she simply slipped into the seat next to him and slammed the door. He started down the road again, and they rode in silence for a few minutes. He risked a quick glance at her as she stared fixedly out the car window. It was enough to let him know that all the wetness on her cheeks wasn't from the rain. "Hey, you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Mels shook her head without turning to look at him. "Nah. Moron couldn't take a punch. I'm fine."

"That's not what I meant...," Rory replied gently.

"Oh." She was silent for another minute. "Yeah. I'm fine." He risked another sideways glance at her and she smiled weakily at him. "Honest, Rory."

"Good. Cause you know, if he'd hurt you..."

"You'd do what? I suspect my right hook's a lot better than yours."

"No. I was gonna say, we could sic Amy on him."

That at least earned him a chuckle. "What are you doing out here, anyway? Did she send you?

He grinned sheepishly. "What do you think?"

Mels rolled her eyes. "Amy worries too much."

"Well... you were walking down the road in the rain," he reminded her.

"How'd you find out?"

"Martin came into the pub. He was banged up pretty bad and it wasn't hard to figure out what had happened."

"I should have killed the bastard." She practically spat the words.

"Probably," he agreed. "Only I suspect it would have been even harder to spring you after a murder than after stealing a bus."

She finally laughed. "Yeah, probably."

"Anyway, I should get you home. You need to get cleaned up. And dry. And I left Amy back at the pub. I should probably get back and save Martin..."

Which earned him another short laugh. It was another minute or two before Mels spoke again, though. When she did, her voice was quiet against the rain battering outside. "Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think maybe you could drop me off at Amy's house instead? I'm not really up to my empty flat."

"Sure. No problem. If you don't think her folks'll mind."

She smiled. "They never have before."

"Okay, then," he said, and turned right at the next crossroads. Leadworth wasn't really that big and Amy's house was just a few houses down.

When he'd pulled up at the curb, Mels turned to him. "Hey... Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. I mean it, seriously. Thanks."

He shrugged. "It was just a ride."

She laughed, though he had no idea why. "Yeah. You'd think so. But thanks anyway, Rory." And, without another word, she slid out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her and, rushing through the rain, ran up the walk to Amy's front door. He waited just long enough to see Mrs. Pond come to the door and throw her arms around Mels's shoulders, pulling her inside. Then, releasing the brake, he turned the car around and headed back to Amy.