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WHO: Amy Pond
WHERE: Outside the Williams Estate
WHEN: Late day January 4th
OPEN TO: Rory Williams
WARNINGS: Potential adult content
STATUS: Open

It's the blue of the house that gets Amy's attention. Brand new, ancient, borrowed, so beautifully blue and for the briefest of moments when she'd caught the glimpse, she'd thought that just maybe, maybe, it was the TARDIS and the Doctor just got the chameleon circuit working again was all. Trust him to take more than a decade to fix something that River could've worked out in a week. When she gets close enough, she can see that it's just a house with a very familiar shade of paint. Still, if there's going to be a house here, any house, with Rory in it, then it's going to be this one. She knows it down in her gut, can feel it with every beat of her heart. Still, there's way too many ways for this to go wrong, which is roughly the time that Amy shuts her brain off so that she's working on pure fumes and stubborn willpower to charge forward, standing at the door before pounding on it with no gentle lightness at all. This is important, whoever's in this house is going to hear her, so help her God.

"Rory Williams!" she shouts, stepping back to boom at the windows. "I know you're here, they told me that you were here. How could anyone miss a stringbean with that nose!" she keeps going, as maniacally determined as ever, using it to mask the worry that she's been lied to and Rory isn't actually there. Please be here, Rory, please, please be here, Amy mentally chants to herself again and again.

It's supposed to be together or not at all. She just never counted on the latter being any kind of real possibility.

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While having a view of the fountain might have been a good idea, Rory's true house selection boiled down to: what house would Amy most likely guess at being his and which would she pick if she were here. Rory had walked all over the village to be sure and, conveniently, the perfect house had been located just behind the Inn and the Hospital. It was still fairly close to the Fountain, but the real attraction was the blue. TARDIS blue was sure to attract his wife or so he figured. Besides, with it being near both the fountain and the inn it would no doubt be one of the first houses to visit if someone new arrived and went about it as he had -- knocking on doors until he got an answer.

The only problem would be timing and given their history timing wasn't always the best for these two. Still, Rory tried to keep to the immediate area and as it so happened he was in the kitchen putting away some supplies that had been given to him from the inn for safe keeping when the pounding started. Even from the back of the house he could hear the loud, familiar voice shouting his name. He froze, only briefly thinking he was imagining it. Thankfully, the pounding on the door continued and it was harder to pass off as a delusion.

"Oh God, Amy."

He dropped the box on the counter and spun around, practically tripping over himself to get across the house and to the door. He was glad he hadn't bothered locking it because it was likely he would have just broken the look in his rush to get the door open. He yanks it wide open, verifies with his own two eyes that it is indeed Amy Pond on his front porch, and then immediately grabs her and pulls her into a kiss, hands clasping her tightly. How long had it been? Weeks? It felt like years and he'd waited centuries for her once upon a time. It didn't matter, every time he was apart from his wife felt like too long. It had certainly been too long since he'd kissed her and he didn't care if it was in the bloody cold and on his front porch. He wasn't letting another second pass without kissing his wife.

His impossible wife who had somehow, somehow managed to follow him to a village cut off from everything else. He breaks the kiss for air, touching his forehead to hers. He wasn't going to break apart from her and it would be a miracle if he ever let her go again since apparently that was what always got them in trouble. "I knew you'd get here eventually."

The instant she sees Rory, it's like something in her collapses, as if the spine of determination has collapsed and all of a sudden, Amy crumples as her posture gives out and she sags forward into his arms, hooking hers underneath his armpits to hold onto him like she's both hugging him and using him to hold herself up. The kiss feels desperate, but so very needed, and it's just enough to distract her from melting down completely, the stress of the day starting to catch up to her now that she's found Rory. She cups his cheeks once she's let go of him to kiss him again and again, forsaking breathing because who needs breathing when she's got Rory right here where she wants him (needs him) and everything else is a distant thing.

Everything else except the part where she's had to say goodbye to her daughter and her best friend, the memory of which sends a stabbing reminder into her stomach that has her letting out a grieving sob into the kiss, easing back so she can wipe her cheeks clean of cold tears. "Sorry, I'm sorry," she babbles, "I only just found you and I'm already a sobbing mess, what are you going to do with me?" she tries to joke, but even the laugh she forces sounds empty and hollow.

Rory catches her and supports her, like he always does. Like he always will. He doesn't know what to make of her sobbing mess. Sometimes he wasn't always the best at reading other people. But this was Amy and she was clearly upset about more than just being separated from him. These were not just happy reunion tears or we're stuck in a crappy village tears. He'll find out though, but perhaps now isn't the best time to ask. He squeezes her shoulders, "Amy. Why are you apologizing? It's...it's just so good to see you. I didn't..."

He takes a breath, now he can feel tears in his own eyes. He's usually pretty good at not crying, but sometimes it's just so hard -- especially when your wife is a sobbing mess on your porch. He looks around and then back at her, she'd asked what he was going to do with her, so he might as well answer, "Well, I suppose the first thing to do would be to take you inside...what happens from there I'll leave up to you." If she needed to talk, they could talk. If she just wanted to cuddle on his couch they could do that. Or if she wanted more, well, by god it had been quite some time since anything like that had happened -- between Manhattan and now here.

Amy manages to wrap both her arms around his neck to pull herself in close, flush against Rory's body where it feels right, pressing her forehead to his and revelling in the fact that no matter how hard today has been, at least she's found the one person that she'd come across time and space for. "What's with you not having made more friends?" she accuses, sniffling to try and get herself together. "I ran around this place like a madwoman and only one person said he knew you," she says. "Some Roman," she says, shaking her head.

"He was a very hot Italian," she can't help but joke, smirking through her tears, like she can get a rise out of Rory, even on her worst day.

"If you hadn't noticed there's quite a bit of snow on the ground. Besides, I have met...a few people," he almost says plenty, but honestly it was only about five. He isn't sure that was the same as "plenty." Granted, Rory had never been one to make friends easily. He is quiet and keeps to himself, unless people needed help. It was a different story then.

Rory laughs breathlessly, "Gaius. Yeah we...bonded." Considering Rory was one of the few who could actually communicate with him in Latin. He hadn't had much time to teach him English though, so Rory was surprised Amy had gotten as far as she had.

"Let's get inside, yeah?"

Amy doesn't want to let go of Rory and despite the stubborn voice in her head wanting to be carried in his arms and never released, she keeps to her own two feet and keeps her arm wrapped around him so she can hold on and head inside, but not before she takes a last look at the outside of the house. "Is this all ours, then?" she wonders, surprised and pleased that he's managed to find them a house in the time that he's been here.

"And how long has it been for you? Since New York?" she asks, a worried look in her eyes, given what some people have hinted at, about people not coming from the same times.

"Apparently. I mean, if you don't like it we can move. Easiest house hunting experience I've ever had," he replies. Given that they could kind of just lay claim to whatever dwelling wasn't already occupied. Of course, that gave the houses a sense of...transience. But, in a way, Rory was used to that as well. At least he didn't have to worry about bills and rent and the like.

As soon as they are inside Rory makes sure to shut the door against the cold. There isn't a lot of furniture in the home -- but there's a couch and a fire is already going in the fireplace so Rory leads Amy in that direction. Walking like this should be awkward, but he's apparently used to this close proximity and moving with it. "It's a little difficult to say -- this place doesn't exactly have a calendar," he admitted, but he frowned as he tried to tally up the days in his mind -- because of course he'd been counting the days. "I've been here for about a month...and before that it had been about a week in Manhattan since we were in that graveyard together," he finally admitted. He took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze, "I think I worried some people by saying I was waiting for my wife. They didn't think it was possible." Considering how long BOTH of them had waited and fought through time and space before, over a month of waiting was honestly not that bad and getting to an impossible world was exactly up their alley.

"Easier than the Doctor just up and giving us a house and your dream car?" Amy can't help but tease, resting her cheek on his shoulder with the kind of firm possessiveness that isn't necessarily against any particular person, but instead telling the universe that it'd better bugger off and leave them alone for once.

When they're close to the fire, Amy doesn't dare let go of him, trying so stupidly hard to keep herself together, but why should she? It's just Rory. It's always her Rory, who's seen her at her best and worst (and she's definitely had some very, very worst moments). "I made the Doctor blink," she admits, through an unsteady voice and eyes so blurred with unshed tears that Rory is just a blur in her vision. "I said goodbye to River and him, I came after you," she says, wanting him to understand that it had been a choice and she'd chosen him. Always. "You and me, together or not at all, right?"

Rory chuckles, "Okay...maybe not that easy." You really can't beat that, honestly. Rory briefly wonders what will happen to all of that stuff now--to everything they left behind. He's never really considered himself materialistic, but sometimes it's little things like houses and cars that then lead to the bigger issues like his dad, their friends, and all the people and connections they're never going to get back.

Her words carry more weight than anyone might initially think. He glances down at her and then back to the fire as it sinks in. All of it weighing on his shoulders as he truly understands what Amy has sacrificed for him. Always for him. "I'm sorry you had to make that choice Amy. I'm so sorry it came to that," he blurts.

He closes his eyes and takes a breath, squeezing her closer to him. "Right, together, in any space or time," he breaths out, trying not to feel guilty, trying not to feel inadequate that he couldn't be more prepared. That he couldn't have done more to change both of their fates it seems. At least she'd gotten to say goodbye, he tells himself. Where that put them now he didn't know, but she'd come for him.

"I'm always going to choose you, you and your stupid face," she accuses through a heroic sniffle, closing her eyes as she curls into Rory's arms. Without looking at anything, she can pretend that nothing is the matter and they're back at home, in front of a lovely fire because it's the holidays and she can relax. They're not in some strange village that she'd nearly frozen to death the minute she'd arrived, climbing out of a fountain. "It's not New York," is what she says, quietly. She's not sure whether she's happy or disappointed about that, but through all of that is the silver thread of hope. "Do you think that means since it's not New York, not the 30's, that the Doctor could make it though? That he could come here?"

What she wouldn't give to hear that brand new, ancient, borrowed, beautiful blue box turn up on their doorstep, like this is just some sort of prelude to a rescue because the Doctor found a loophole. "Or is it just the Angels? Sending us here, where we're even more trapped."

Rory kisses the top of her head, breathing in deep the smell of her hair and counting himself among the luckiest men alive, even if the circumstances are terrible. It's hard to keep feeling guilty when Amy is there with him, he has his wife and honestly that's all he's ever needed. There's a reason he's fought monsters, armies, time, and space to be with her countless times.

Because of that, he considers her question carefully, resting with her curled against him as he considers the possibilities. It's not like he completely understands the mechanics of time travel, the TARDIS, and paradoxes. However, he's read enough and going over what he remembers he has to consider it carefully, "I don't know...maybe? But wasn't the problem that we saw that grave?" It was confusing, to say the least, and something Rory didn't exactly want to think about. However, the real problem was only partly the angel's fault -- mostly it was the fact that they'd seen their date of death and had cemented that as something that had to happen...right?

Of course, that didn't mean the Doctor couldn't show up here. This place was seriously strange when it came to arrivals apparently -- though if he came it might be without the TARDIS. He shifted against her, not exactly wanting to lose circulation, "I haven't heard anyone else mention arrival via angels though."

"If you're supposed to die in New York City, you've already done away with that problem by getting here," Amy points out. It's been on her mind since she arrived, because doesn't it mean the paradox is gone? Rory can't die and be buried in New York City if he's here in some strange little village and neither can she, so shouldn't the Doctor be able to swoop in and pick them up at any point in time?

"No one knows what I mean when I say angels," she agrees, tightening her hold on Rory so that when she breathes in, she's pulling herself even closer to him and the fire. "But it's exactly what they would do," is the part she's not understanding. "Sending us back in time, trapping us...it's just New York, only more boring," is her judgmental point.

"Okay. But there's no way of knowing if we're stuck here permanently. What if we pop back to where we were just like we randomly popped up here," he asks. It's not like he wants to die in old New York, but at the same time he can't let himself get swept up in hope that might be futile. He wants to make sure he looks at every possibility here and that is obviously one of them. It could be part of the "grand plan" that he's only in this place for a few years before somehow being sent back to New York City.

"Yeah...but when the Angels were coming for us before we saw evidence of that--statues like that are kind of hard to miss. No one else here has mentioned seeing a creepy statue before winding up in the fountain. The M.O. might be the same, but I just don't think it's them this time." He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. The Angels they knew about, it was a familiar enemy. This could be something entirely new and they had no way of knowing what they were up against in that case.

He chuckles at her last comment, "No. It's no New York. But nothing says it has to stay boring." He could certainly think of a few things that would keep him entertained now that Amy was here. "After all, when has our marriage ever been boring?"

If Amy weren't so upset or had just a little more energy in her, she'd have pinned Rory to the ground in front of the fire with a frisky comment about how they could be far from boring, but all that she can think of when she looks at Rory is River and the Doctor and how they're never going to see them again. She'd known that, letting the Angel send her back, but it's finally coming home to roost. "If I see a single rock that even looks remotely like a person, I'm going to give you a very big 'I told you so'," she warns imperiously, adjusting herself so that she's tucked comfortably into Rory's warmth.

She stares forward at the fire, her hair starting to dry a little. It's so quiet here, the kind of quiet that will probably drive her mad, in time. "If we had been in New York, what would we have done?" she asks, imagining another hypothetical life, one that almost was.

Rory relents, "Fair enough." Because if the day comes where they are seeing statues move again he'll definitely deserve that sort of 'I told you so' at the very least. Rory doesn't move though, just allows Amy to shift against him and continues to hold her close. He had missed this, and he is now being constantly reminded as to why.

While Amy stares at the fire, Rory instead closes his eyes -- partly in thought but also to try and imagine what they would have done. "I was already in New York before you got here. I was mostly looking out for you, but also trying to figure out how to get a job at one of the hospitals despite not having any proof I was a nurse. I imagine first we'd have to find a way to get some documents to help with that. Find a way to get jobs and such." He hesitated, thinking of Amy and what she would want, how he cold make her happy, "Or do you mean after we found a way to get settled in?"

"I don't know," she confesses. Maybe she's just trying to think about it and compare it to this place, because she has the feeling that it's not like they're going to be able to do whatever they'd wanted to because it's not like there seem to be jobs around here. At least, not the sort that pay you to go out to restaurants or have the sort of fun that you can still have in a city and not a ... whatever it is the hell this is.

"What do we do here?" she asks, which had been the question she'd been after, really.

"Survive. Try and find a way out or to communicate with whoever is running this place. Help the people here," Rory answers, not having to think as hard about that one. It may be a crappy situation, but it certainly gives him a purpose. "We have some pretty unique experiences between the two of us...it could come in handy in a predicament like this. No one I've spoken to it seems is native to this place though -- everyone was like us -- minding their own business until something brought them here." Even if he didn't think it was Angels, that still left the question as to who or what was collecting all of these people and depositing them in a barely functional village.

Amy's not fond of the survival option. It's come up way too many times in the last decade of her life, with far too many close calls (like 36 almost years trapped in the fast stream). She's not even sure what she's supposed to do, fairly convinced there's not a huge market for travel writers here, nor models, and kissogram is a job best left to her teenaged years.

"You're a nurse and you're smart, you'll have no problem helping," Amy says, but where she comes in is what's making her forehead furrow like it is. Her skill sets sort of stop at 'talking down stubborn aliens' when you exhaust the rest of her jobs, though if she's here to be support for Rory, then she can do that. It's her turn to do that. "I'm worried it's some sort of prison," she admits. "I just can't figure out why us. Why this time."

Rory has always tended to sell himself short. While Amy is thinking about how he is a commodity here, Rory can't help but think that Amy's stubbornness and cleverness will be just as helpful as any skill. She can learn, he can show her what to do if she wants to help him or, he's sure, she won't have any qualms demanding people teach her how to be useful. "I don't think you have anything to worry about either. If nothing else you have experience on your side," Rory finally says aloud.

He considers her guess at their location, "It could explain the outfits. Although scrubs scream more hospital or asylum to me. But I suppose that isn't much better and would still leave the question as to why."

He raises an eyebrow, "Isn't it always us?"

"Scrubs just make me think of your work," Amy says, playing idly with the collar of Rory's scrubs with her fingers, thinking of the random times she'd put on his top to wander around the house in nothing but that and her pants because getting fully dressed for breakfast just wasn't something she ever liked doing.

"Usually, it's us and the Doctor," Amy feels stubbornly compelled to point out. "Even when we started living a separate life from him, he always came back. What's it going to be like, without him?" She can't really remember a time without him, those few years before her Raggedy Doctor lost to her, because Mel's presence in her life is sort of an extension of the Doctor's, so it's been always, hasn't it?

Rory wasn't sure what to say to that. Even his life had been forever intertwined with the Doctor because he'd been a part of Amy's life for so long. As soon as she'd popped up on the playground one day to force him into her game's of pretend and the adventures of the Raggedy Doctor. As a child it hadn't had the same impact as it had on Amy of course, but it had been there. A nugget of his childhood that eventually turned into a reality, an impossible reality but one that he could hardly imagine his life without.

"Quiet. That's all I can imagine. Slower...though maybe not here. This place is different, so maybe...I dunno," he hesitates, "it does sort of seem like the place he could pop up in. People from across time and space appearing in a little village. Definitely seems like something he'd stumble across even if we weren't here." Hadn't there been adventures prior to Rory and Amy joining him? Other companions that the Doctor didn't like to talk about. Times when they hadn't been on the TARDIS with him.

Amy idly lets her fingers card through Rory's hair, mainly to give herself some comfort. It's a soothing pattern she likes, something to set her mind at ease. It bugs her, in the back of her mind, to think about a life without the Doctor, but at the same time, she'd been leaping into one without him and turning back was only going to cause her grief. "This isn't what I had in mind when I came back in time for you," she admits, head resting on his shoulder. "I thought maybe we'd have picnics in Central Park and coffee at one of the local shops and go see plays on Broadway."

Then she'd tie him down and refuse to let him go off to war without her, knowing what was coming. "Maybe," she says, quietly, "maybe even some day, we might have done something stupid and incredible and adopted."

It puts him at ease too. Who doesn't like getting their head rubbed? For a moment the fingers going through his hair makes him forget what they are talking about, what's a stake. For a blissful moment he's at peace. But, like most things, it doesn't last. "I was starting to get used to the idea of New York, too. I mean, I wasn't completely used to it...but it was starting to sink in and then I was here."

Her next statement though, that takes him by a little bit of surprise. Enough so that he looks over his shoulder at her, a silent question of 'really' on the tip of his tongue, but at the same time he knows better than to actually ask. Amy wouldn't bring that up lightly. Not after everything. He doesn't know what to say to that admission, because once again their lives have been derailed and what can they do now?

She keeps rubbing his hair, trying not to frown too much or think too hard about all the things they've lost. She knows that she's never going to have a baby of her own again, but if their travelling days were done, then they could, couldn't they? She knows it had only been a fleeting thought when she'd been making up her mind, but she knows how much Rory would want that and how much she wants it too, to right a wrong that's been unfair to all of them.

"I suppose River could always find her way here to us, but she's a big girl," she says, trying to mask her bitterness. "She doesn't need us, anymore."

"That would be fun to explain...it might get confusing depending on when she gets here," Rory says. They were lucky enough to have apparently arrived from similar points. It could have been different, at least based on conversations he'd had with others. Time was just as strange here as it was back home and could lead to some odd encounters. Still, he had Amy and she wasn't going to age without him so there was that at least. Everything else could work itself out after that.

"There's enough people for us to keep an eye on here. Between the two of us...that's a lot of experience, but they're less my concern right now." He opens his eyes, focusing his gaze on his wife. She was the most important thing to him now. She always had been of course.

Amy feels a pang of grief in her heart at the thought of River showing up without knowing them. There's this part of her, too, that wonders if this place wouldn't bring their little Melody to them, before she regenerated, before they stuck her in that bloody astronaut's suit. "I know what you mean," she says, serious and quiet. "I nearly froze to death trying to find you, I'm keeping my eye on you for a while," she guarantees, seeing as being apart from him for even a little had been a terrifying, heart-stopping moment.

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/goes to sob in a corner

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