Author's Note: Sorry, I don't know if this chapter is historically accurate, but I tried to make it as realistic as possible.

If you haven't read "2000" because you've decided that you're too lazy find it, you should know Rory meets Van Gogh. If you want to know how GO READ IT! (Do you like my sneaky self-promotion?)

I don't own Doctor Who (darn it!)

I hope you enjoy, feel free to leave comments/review

Peace, Love, ALLONS-Y!

Amy was able to get a job as a secretary at the hospital where Rory worked within her first month of arrival. They would walk to work together every morning, and catch as much time together during work as they could. At the end of the day, they would walk home, hand in hand. They still had to get used to the 1940s American culture. Amy often found herself referencing things that hadn't happened yet.

To explain their naivety and accents, they concocted a story that they met and married in England (though Amy grew up in Scotland) and decided to leave for the Americas when the Nazi party started to get aggressive towards Jews (Rory had some distant Jewish relatives and Amy was too worried about his safety to let them stay in Europe.) They had travelled for a while on an inheritance Rory had gotten, seeing all the sights. However, tragedy struck when the Germans blew up their London home and bank in a single air raid, destroying all of their money and documents. They had even lost their marriage license. So with what little money they had remaining, Rory left for New York to find a nice house and a suitable job. Until Rory made enough to send for Amy, she stayed with some friends in the Midwest. Being away each other for over a year had made them over-clingy, which explained why they sometimes acted inappropriately at the hospital (apparently kissing was a scandal at the work place.)

The staff seemed to buy their sob story well enough, much to the Williams' relief. That was another thing. Apparently it wasn't acceptable in this day and age for the husband to take his wife's last name. Amy had reluctantly taken Rory's surname. However, with every day she got more and more used to it. Amelia Williams.

Sunday was the couple's day off, except if Rory was called to the hospital for the rare emergency. They would usually go exploring, discovering their favorite nooks and crannies of the Big Apple. The one thing they made sure to stay away from was the Statue of Liberty. The looming angel still gave the two nightmares or flashbacks to the horrible way their new lives had started.

On one particular Sunday, the two had decided to visit an art museum, hearing raving reviews of a new exhibit. Rory was hesitant at first, Amy had noticed he wasn't a big fan of museums; he usually preferred a walk in the park to looking at mummies or dinosaur bones. Still, Amy was able to convince him to go with puppy eyes and the refusal to return affection. So the odd couple found themselves examining galleries filled with paintings and sculptures.

One particular exhibit made Amy stop dead in her tracks.

"I met him, you know," she commented, her eyes probing over the paintings of sunflowers and wheat fields. "He was a kind man. A kind, sad man."

"So sad," Rory echoed, gazing with the same sense of sorrow.

"Wait," Amy interrupted, breaking out of her trance. "You met Vincent?"

"While I was watching the Pandorica," Rory let slip, still not paying full attention.

"The Pandorica? Rory I thought you said you didn't remember all of that. I thought- "

"There are some things you never forget, Amy. Some miracles. Like the Doctor." Amy flinched, the pain of losing her friend opened like a scab. "You'll never forget him. I'll never forget the man who didn't know you but drew the Pandorica with the swirls making your face. I'll never forget the first picture I got of you, the first glimpse of your beautiful face, since you were locked up in that damned box," Rory explained, bitterness edging in his voice as he remembered his wife's prison.

"Rory, answer me truthfully. Do you remember?" Amy asked, really asked for the first time. She always figured, maybe since he was plastic when he was guarding her, or maybe because the whole universe had rebooted, that his Lone Centurion days had been erased from his memory.

"Every second," Rory replied, gritting his teeth. Amy reached out to grab his hand and gave it what she hoped would be a reassuring squeeze.

"Rory, I had no idea," Amy gasped, eyes brimming with tears. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, embracing him.

"It wasn't your fault. On the contrary, it was mine. If I hadn't shot you-" Rory broke off, stopping himself from choking on his own words.

"Don't you dare say that," Amy warned, pulling away to look him in the eyes. "That was not your fault Rory. You saved me, and waited 2,000 years to make sure nothing would happen while I was asleep. If it weren't for you, I would be dead. The whole universe would be dead."

Tears were rolling down Amy's cheeks now, and Rory lifted his hand to wipe them away. Amy grabbed his hand in her own, and held it to her face, taking comfort in his touch.

"You remember."