"Amy?" Rory ran around the next corner, puffing and panting, looking for his wife amoung the halls of the Winter Quay.
"Amy!" He was getting scared now. Running into another room, he found River, who was crying, over a body. His heart stopped beating for a moment. Rory stepped forwards. His worst fear was laying before him in his daughter's arms Amelia Pond, his wife, lay on the ground, lifeless and unmoving, pale and cold.
Rory's legs gave way, he couldn't stand anymore. He choked back sobs, making noises that could only be described as those a dying whale might make. "I don't know what happened - I just found her here," River sobbed, "I don't know whether it was painful or instantaneous, I think we should just hope that she wasn't hurting at all." Her voice disolved into sobs. Rory couldn't hold it in - he screamed. Louder than he'd ever yelled before. It echoed all around the building, bouncing off the quiet walls.
The ground began to shake, but Rory still wept, not bothering about it. The Doctor's voice echoed from outside the room, a series of whoopings and cheers, "Rory, is that you in there? The angels are crumbling, some yell's stopped them-" As he came into the room, his cheerful voice died into a loud gasping breath. When he finally regained his voice, he said monotonously, "We've got to get out of here, this New York is being ripped a part." Rory looked up at him.
"N-Not without her," He whispered, voice cracking, "Not without A-Amy." He pulled himself over to where River was still holding her mother's dead body in her arms. Rory, shakily, took cold of her hand, almost jumping at the inhuman cold. The Doctor tried hard to hide his tears, and did a good job, but couldn't help the one that slid down his cheek as he looked Rory in the eye and said, "If we don't go now, we'll all die."
"Good." Rory whispered, "I'll be with Amy then."
"I'm not leaving you here. River help me take him back to the TARDIS." River gently set her mother's body down on the ground. The Doctor quickly scanned it with the sonic screwdriver, then took one of Rory's arms and hoisted it over his shoulder, River taking the other. They half-escorted, half-dragging Rory back to the TARDIS outside the Winter Quay, and they set Rory down in a laying position on a long chair that was near the console, River staying next to him, the Doctor taking them away from the cursed city.
"I'm so, so sorry Rory," he said, "But you saved the world from a possible invasion by angels. Thank-"
He was cut off by Rory. "I DON'T CARE IF I SAVED THE BLOODY WORLD!" He yelled, standing and gaining on the Doctor, before River held him back, "SHE DIED, DOCTOR! DON'T YOU GET IT? SHE WAS KILLED, AND YOU'RE HERE THANKING ME!" His yelled reduced to a whimper, "She was the only one." He fell to the floor sobbing, River letting go and letting him crumple to the floor of he TARDIS, face in hands, body raking with heartbreaking sobs. The Doctor looked at his screwdriver.
"Her death was instantaneous. She was in no pain." He said simply, "One of the angels snapped her neck." He let his arm fall and the screwdriver drop from his grip. Settling in one of the chairs that surrounded the console, he ran his long fingers through his hair. "River, maybe you should take Rory into one of the TARDIS's bedrooms. Should be one up the hall, second door to the left. I'll help you." Together, the Doctor and River hauled Rory's hefty body up again. A comfy bed was in the second door to the left, and husband and wife set down the widower. River looked at her father, tears welling up again and Rory's shoulders began to shake again.
"I think we should leave him for a bit," The Doctor whispered in her ear. "Let him have some time to realise that she's - well, she's lost." Together they withdrew from the room and shut it's door. Rory's heart was beating at a mile a second, memories of him and Amy being together flashed past his vision. She was gone, gone forever, and he was left to walk the earth with no one. No other woman on earth could match Amy - she was kind, firey, and had her sexy, sassy side, too. Choking noises issued from Rory as he sobbed himself to sleep. He dreamt of all the times he and Amy had spent together. But one memory stuck - the memory of their last kiss, just before they'd been separated looking for the Doctor and River through the Winter Quay. Rory felt his heart beat faster, and he couldn't wake up. Then he saw her. Amy was standing there. He reached out to touch her, hold her again, but she was a mere dream. Tears were making dream Amy's eyes red, as she faded, reappearing futher away. Rory ran after the misty form of his deceased wife, but every time he got close enough to grab her hand, she would fade and reappear someone else. Rory collapsed. He was done. He wanted nothing more than for this dream to stop, for his heart rate to slow instead of gaining, and to wake up, but he was stuck in this world of dreams- no, tortuous nightmares. Then suddundly, it all stopped. It all went black. Nothing could be seen. Nothing could be felt. He woke, drenched in cold sweat. River was standing, looking scared and concerned, over his bed.
"We left for five minutes and heard your yelling." She said, fear leaving a tremor in her voice. Rory took deap breaths, trying to slow his madly beating heart. After he'd calmed down a little, River left. Rory was still holding his head in his hands. Eventually, he found that there were pijamas on the floor beside him. He changed into them, shirt backwards and shorts twisted. He honestly didn't care. He lifted the blanket of the bed and climbed in, immediatly falling inro an uncomfortable slumber. He still dreamt of Amy. They were happy memories. Kissing Amy at their wedding. Hugging her gently as she slept, and memories that made him feel at rest and peaceful. The dreams began to loose all their colour and become darker, but Rory didn't realise. He was happy he had these beautiful times with his wife. Eventually, they all stopped completely. Black was all he could see - or couldn't see. A white light appeared and Amy was walking towards him. She was gorgeous, different from when he'd last seen her, when her neck had been twisted at an odd angle, hair tangled and matted. She was now how he remembered her. No twisted neck. Beautiful, flowing red hair. Lips pink and smiling. Green eyes bright and living. She took his hand. She was warm, not like when he'd taken her hand back at New York.
"How are you here?" Rory whispered, "How are you touching me?" Amy's smile faltered slightly.
She didn't want to tell him what had happened, but sheknew she had to, "You died, Rory." She whispered back, "You died of a broken heart. A heart that couldn't be mended."
Rory took a moment to let this sink in, "Well...At least we're together now." He told her, "I know it wasn't much time at all but I missed you too much, Amy." He brought her closer to him, holding her tightly against him. She fell lightly into the embrace, letting Rory's arms protect her. The dream faded, and Rory knew he was dead.
Morning broke, and the Doctor went to check on Rory. He knocked on the door of the room, opening it, and looking in. He was still sleeping. He smiled and closed the door again, going to wake River who'd been sleeping in the room opposite Rory's.
"Wake up, it's morning," He whispered. He shook her. When she merely rolled over, he yelled, "Come on! Up and at 'em!" And she shot up.
"Oh it's you." She stretched. "Rory's still asleep, then." The Doctor nodded and walked out of the room, back towards the console room.
When River exited her room and joined the Doctor in the console room, she asked a question he had been dreading, "Do you think he's going to be able to live with it?" The Doctor looked at her side ways. He didn't want to answer - It's answer was hurting him, as it would hurt her.
"No...I really think he won't be able to live with her being gone." He looked down. "I honestly don't know he's going to last without her."
River took a deep breath, "You could see..."
"No. I don't want to see Rory's future life."
"Well, you don't have to see it. I can just as easily see it own my own." The Doctor decided that he should just go let River see. He set the TARDIS for a year in the future - 2013.
"Go. Look." He said. She walked out of the TARDIS doors. She was gone for about five minutes before she came runnig into the doors again, and the Doctor followed her into where Rory was sleeping. She hurriedly walked over to the form of her sleeping father.
Too still, the Doctor thought. River picked up his hand and felt for a pulse. Nothing. She felt his neck for a pulse. Nothing. She put her fingers to Rory's nose to see if he was breathing. He wasn't.
"He's - He's gone." River whispered. The Doctor ran his shaking hand through his hair. "He must have passed away during the night." Raising another shaking hand, the Doctor walked over to where Rory was on the bed, scanning his with the sonic screwdriver and checking it.
"Broken heart," He whispered, "He wouldn't be able to deal with this...and I knew he wouldn't. What made you come back to check on him?" She looked the Doctor right in the eye, "Their house is empty and for sale. They loved that house, one year wouldn't make him move out." The Doctor couldn't speak. Both of them. In one night. This was unfair, and after he'd promised to Brian that he wouldn't let them die. Brian. The Doctor lost it then. He'd broken yet another promise to someone. He threw open the door to the room and slammed it hard behind him, fleeing to another of the TARDIS's many bedrooms. The one that had once belonged to him and Rose in the Doctor's previous incarnation.
He angrily pulled at his hair, some strands coming out in his hands. Another two deaths that he was responsible for. The Doctor started to shake as tears welled in his eyes. He sobbed hard, choking and spluttering interupting the flow of tears every now and then. Why Amy and Rory? Why them? And he still had to tell Brian that his daughter-in-law had had her neck snapped and his own son had died of a broken heart during the night.
An icy feeling of dread washed over him. How would Brian react? The Doctor imagined what he thought how he might react, and he didn't like it. Tears and yelling. He didn't want that. Tears fell faster and the sobs became more violent, as did the shaking of his shoulders. When sorrow was gone, anger kicked in.
This was his fault. He kicked the table beside the bed, hard, and a book feel off it, but he was relentless. In a fit of rage, he threw the bedside lamp to the ground, smashing it into thousands of pieces, without even noticing he'd done it. His fists connected with the wall as his yells of anger were again reduced to sobs of pain.