Last time: [because I literally haven't updated in eternity]

Biting my lip, I waited and soon Martha joined me. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

I glanced at her and then back out the window. "Believe me, I have been kidnapped enough times to not go waltzing into someone's arms until I know who they belong to."

"Kidnapped? Seriously?"

Had I said too much? Hopefully not. Shrugging away her question, we continued to look out the window until I caught a glimpse of a red shirt.

A man rounded the corner and my breath caught in my throat.

It was Rory William's, my husband.

I think I screamed. Yeah, I probably screamed. I don't really remember. It's all bit of a blur. One moment I was behind the curtain and the next I was scrambling across the white porch and racing down the lawn.

I don't think he even had a chance to see my face before I ran into him, nearly tumbling him into the grass. I held him as tightly, breathing him in. If I held him like that, he would never disappear again. For a long moment, we just stood there fitting nicely like puzzle pieces.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," I said into his shoulder. "You stupid, stupid man." He was the same as ever. Same smile. Same smell. Same man.

Slowly, he pulled back and gave me a timid smile. "Amy Pond," he murmured, blue eyes wide and amazed. "You're her, aren't you?"

I blinked, frowned. That… wasn't right. "What? Yeah. Rory, of course, it's me."

Rory let loose a small nervous laugh and took a step away from me. "I thought you were just a- a dream," he whispered. "I couldn't remember. I still can't remember."

What?

What?

Apprehension thudded in my stomach like stones. "Rory," I interrupted him. Carefully I reached forward and took his hand between my own. He let me, feeling the pads of my fingers as if they were lifelines. "You don't remember what?"

Rory gulped. "I get these dreams. Something about Romans. And… there's you. You're always there. Amelia Pond."

Oh no. His fingers began slipping from my own, but just as quickly, Rory tightened his grip. His eyes searched my face. "Please tell me who you are."

I shivered. This was too much. He didn't remember! How can he forget a lifetime?

"I-" I start, but my words caught in my throat and I let my gaze fall to the floor. "How far back do you remember?"

"Two months."

My heart yanked. Two months. He was all alone, confused and amnesic for two whole months. I hardly survived a single night by myself. Slowly, I pulled him into an embrace once more. I held him gently now like he was made of glass. " I am so sorry, Rory," I murmured.

"I don't understand," Rory said, his voice muffled. He pulled back and studied me quizzically. "Are we… are we married?"

I gulped and lifted my hand to show him my wedding band. "Yeah. We're married."

Rory nodded slowly and then he smirked. "I can live with that."

I snorted, not really laughing. This situation was so similar to a previous experience of ours; it was uncanny.

"But I don't know you, I've never seen you before in my life!"

"You have. You know you have. It's me."

"... Why am I crying?

"Because you remember me. I came back. You're crying because you remember me."

"Rory. You keep calling me Rory. Is that my real-?"

I nearly choke. "Yeah," And then again, more put together now. "Yeah. Your name is Rory. Let's go inside, alright? I'll try to explain what I can."

Slowly, Rory nodded.

Soon we were in the living room. My fingernails were bitten down to nubs, and I glanced at Rory every few minutes. Still there. Still alive.

"Roman Williams, I presume?" Martha asked. She sat on the couch opposite us, and her black dress wrinkled beneath her. An excited light reflected out of the back of her eyes, and she leaned forward, interested. I took it that she was the sort who thrived on interesting tales.

"Rory Williams, actually," Rory responded slowly. He caught my gaze and seemed to read something in my face. He faltered, and I picked up his sentence hastily by the tail.

"The word 'Roman' is a sort of code word between us so we can find each other if we're ever separated. There's bound to be many 'Rory's, but someone named Roman? Far rarer."

Rory and Martha digested this. They both nodded. This was obviously news to Rory. Ice prickled my stomach, and I took a deep breath to still the pain ever so slightly. He still didn't remember.

Why did stuff like this always happen?

"Well," Martha said after a moment. She stood and brushed the nonexistent dirt off of her apron. "I'll leave you two to catch up." Quickly, she left the room and shut the door behind her. I frowned. Strange. A moment ago she acted like she would die to hear their story (which would have been made up on the spot).

But no matter. I turned by attention to Rory and grabbed his hand. He stared at the floor, a soft frown marring his features. A pang of sadness echoed through me as I noticed the tiny differences that had come to pass since we'd last seen each other. His hair was longer, and he had a day old beard shadowing his chin. A small cut on his lip suggested he'd been punched at some point.

Pursing my own lips, I gently lifted his face so that I could stare directly into his eyes. They were sincere and thoughtful, as always, but now with a hint of fear.

Rory gulped and slowly released a pent up breath. "Who I am? Can you tell me?"

I smiled sadly. "Of course."

"Even," There was that fear again. "Even if it's bad. I want to know if I'm not… a good man."

My eyebrows rose, and a surprised laugh escaped me. How like him to imagine himself as something less than he was. "Rory Williams, I may be biased, but you are by far the bravest man I have ever met. The purest soul."

Rory blinked. He pulled back slightly, incredulous. "Are you sure you're not mixing me up with someone else because-"

"Oh don't be daft." I punched him lightly. "I'm not about to lie to you!"

For a long moment, Rory's face stayed thoughtful, but then a relieved smile broke through and he pulled me close again. "I'm so glad you're back. From wherever you've been."

"Whenever," I murmured into his shoulder.

Confused, he pulled away to look at me. "What?"

"I'll explain later."

And I did.

We spent most of the rest of the day talking, me reminding him and he nodding, trying to remember. I couldn't say some things. I had to monitor my tongue because I was fairly sure Martha was peeking through the keyhole.

Before I knew it, day fell into bruised night. Rory lit a candle and placed it on the shelf across from us.

"Where have you been staying?" I asked.

"Nowhere I'd ever take you," he replied. His mouth set grimly, and I didn't pry, although, curiosity was killing me and I still didn't know how he'd split his lip.

"How long have you been staying here?" he asked.

"Just one night. I… arrived yesterday."

Slowly, Rory nodded. His eyes burned to know what I meant by 'arrived', but he held his peace. I figured he was aware of the prying maid as well. Didn't she have things to do?

Then again, I'd be doing the same thing if I was her.

"And Mr. Smith?" Rory said.

"A kind soul,"

"Good. Would he let us stay here a bit longer?"

"I suppose you'd have to ask me."

Both of us jumped. Rory actually rose out of his seat.

John Smith was leaning against the doorframe, having quietly entered. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to startle you. You're Mrs. Pond's husband, yes?"

Slowly the tension dropped out of Rory, and I stood next to him. "Yes. I am," he answered. "Master Smith? I've seen you around the school a bit, I believe."

Smith nodded and peeled himself off the wall. "You were saying you haven't got a place to stay?"

Rory glanced at me, clearly awkward. "I… yes I do. But it's not a place to take a lady."

Interesting. Living in the nineteenth century had altered his perception a bit. A feminist part of me bristled. I could go anywhere a man could.

But at the same time I warmed to know that he wanted me safe. Weird.

Conflicted, I kept silent.

John Smith nodded understandingly. "Well, your house is my house, as they say. I've got too many spare bedrooms anyhow." He smirked almost playfully; a hint of excitement that made me wonder whether he was lonely. It clashed strangely with his gentlemanly attitude. The expression suddenly felt so very familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"That would be amazing," Rory sputtered.

"It would be my pleasure."

AN:

Oh, My Gosh. I feel so awful for doing this to you guys. It's been forever since I updated. This is a really fun story, but I got stuck in a plot hole. Now I'm back. Ignoring the plot hole for now. Finally.