It doesn't feel right. None of this does. If he's stuck in some loop, where Manhattan is the last place he ever sees, then, it's his future to endure. His alone, apparently. But Amy has done what she always has and broken the rules for the pleasure of herself.
Today, it causes him displeasure because of what she's given up ... She chose him over the Doctor. A life of adventure and marriage acceptances with rather sleazy monarchs, but things no one else in the universe would endure. A part of him still reverts back into his old self, insecure around the man in a bowtie, but they had agreed to never quite stop saying no to adventures.
And yet, in one fell swoop, they had.
His arm around her waist grips her. The hand cupping her face moves into her hair. "Not at the expense of your life," he says. "My name was on that gravestone. Mine. Not yours. All these things about fixed points in time …" He had hoped it wasn't true, that they had saved him, that they could return home and build a picket fence and perhaps hire another alien butler to do all their housework … but some part of him had known that he was doomed to stay in Manhattan. Alone.
He had never wanted to strip of what made her feel whole. And, in some way, of roping her in and their together or not at all, he had managed to do just that. Not for the first time, Rory finds himself angry with the Doctor.
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It doesn't feel right. None of this does. If he's stuck in some loop, where Manhattan is the last place he ever sees, then, it's his future to endure. His alone, apparently. But Amy has done what she always has and broken the rules for the pleasure of herself.
Today, it causes him displeasure because of what she's given up ... She chose him over the Doctor. A life of adventure and marriage acceptances with rather sleazy monarchs, but things no one else in the universe would endure. A part of him still reverts back into his old self, insecure around the man in a bowtie, but they had agreed to never quite stop saying no to adventures.
And yet, in one fell swoop, they had.
His arm around her waist grips her. The hand cupping her face moves into her hair. "Not at the expense of your life," he says. "My name was on that gravestone. Mine. Not yours. All these things about fixed points in time …" He had hoped it wasn't true, that they had saved him, that they could return home and build a picket fence and perhaps hire another alien butler to do all their housework … but some part of him had known that he was doomed to stay in Manhattan. Alone.
He had never wanted to strip of what made her feel whole. And, in some way, of roping her in and their together or not at all, he had managed to do just that. Not for the first time, Rory finds himself angry with the Doctor.