Between the Idea and the Reality
Rokesmith

Author's Note: My personal speculations on how Amy and Rory went from friendship to romance. This story has been told many different times by different people; this is simply my version.

Disclaimer: Doctor Who is property of the BBC. The two brilliant characters who feature in story owe their origins to Stephen Moffat, Karen Gillian and Arthur Darville.

Between the idea and the reality
Between the motion and the act
Falls the shadow

- T.S. Elliot

If it had been a proper fairy tale, when Amy caught up with Rory half way down the garden path, he would have told her he loved her and she'd have told him she'd always loved him too and they'd have fallen into each other's arms and run away together and lived happily ever after.

Unfortunately, though fairy tales do really happen, they are invariably more complicated.

"Is it true?" she called after him. "Is it me?"

Rory, who at that moment was doing all he could to fight the urge to turn and run, just nodded.

"Rory, I'm sorry."

She wasn't even sure what she was apologising for. It could have been anything, or everything. Like the fact that they were two feet apart but she'd never felt further away from him, or the fact that he looked so, so scared.

"I have to go."

He left her there, feeling totally lost. Neither of them slept very well that night. Their entire relationship ran through their heads over and over again, viewed through the lens of this new truth. And so did the last confrontation in the garden, every possible permutation of the conversation from bliss to damnation. They saw everything they might have changed, every way it might have been different, but the morning light forced them to confront the cold reality.

The penny had dropped with the force of a bomb, and now the world had changed completely and neither of them were sure what to do next.

For Rory at least, the sleepless night was something of a blessing. He was tired enough that his shift at the hospital demanded all the attention his sleep-deprived brain could give and left him no energy left to worry about Amy. His colleagues noticed but didn't ask; everyone was entitled to off days.

Amy, for her part, spent most of the day indoors, avoiding anyone who might ask her about Rory. That, she suddenly realised, meant everyone. The entire village had treated them almost like a single entity for years. There wasn't a single memory of an important event in her life that didn't have him in it. She didn't want any without him. He really was her favourite guy. And so she had entire day to be angry; with him for not telling her, Mels for pointing it out, but especially herself for not seeing it before.

As a result, it was Tuesday before the shock passed enough for either of them to actually start thinking about the implications of Sunday night. They both realised that in a village the size of Leadworth, avoiding each other was impossible. They'd be lucky to manage until the weekend.

So Amy paced back and forth in front of her parents' room for ten minutes before going in to talk to her mother, who knew her daughter well enough to have been expecting this for more than a day.

"What is it, Amelia? Did you have another fight with Mels?"

Amy shook her head. "It's not Mels this time, mum. It's Rory."

"You had a fight with him?"

"Not... exactly."

"Oh, Amelia."

"Okay, does everybody know about this?"

"Well, I am your mother."

Amy slowly explained what had happened on Sunday night. Her mother listened carefully and at the end only had one question.

"Whatever made you think he was gay?

"Other than the fact he's got a poster of a girl with a car in his room and he looks at the car more than the girl? He..." she flushed for a moment, "he never looked at my legs."

"Your legs?"

"Come on, mum, all the boys in Leadworth look at my legs. And not just the boys."

Her mother sighed. "You don't do much to discourage them."

"I don't want to have the skirt argument again," Amy protested. "The point is Rory doesn't look. I'm the only girl he ever looks at and he doesn't look at me the way the other boys do."

"And which way to you prefer?"

Amy was silent for a moment, then laughed. "I've been stupid, haven't I?"

"Yes, Amelia, you have."

By the time he was awake enough to think about it, Rory's only conversation that day was less helpful. His phone rang as he left the hospital. He felt his heart jump, thinking it might be Amy, but it wasn't.

"Hi, Mels."

"Have you seen her yet?"

"No, I haven't."

"Oh, come on, what are you doing, hiding?"

"What do you want, Mels?"

"I'm just checking on Amy's favourite guy."

"Goodbye, Mels."

By the time he got home, all he could think about was that phrase. Amy had called him her favourite guy. She'd also called him gorgeous, and not with the same tone his grandmother called him handsome. If he was being honest, the first part was no surprise. Other than Amy's father, he was the most consistently present man in her life. He liked it; when she was happy, he was happy and when she was sad, he was sad. And that was the way it had been for ten years.

As for being gay... Rory didn't know what to think about that. He'd been accused of that during his teens, when it was simply an insult from other teenage boys. It only occurred to him then that his peers must have assumed that a boy who spent all his time around a girl like Amy must have had something up his sleeve. The other girls in his life had simply been there, and though he certainly noticed when they were pretty, between his natural shyness and the assumption that they'd never like him anyway, it didn't seem to matter what they looked like.

There was a simple truth behind all of this: There were lots of pretty girls, even in Leadworth, but Amy was the only girl he'd ever call beautiful.

"You like him, and he likes you. What's the problem?"

"Goodbye, Mels."

The problem, Amy decided, was that she had never treated Rory like a boy. There were boys and then there was Rory. Amy knew how to handle boys; they'd been paying attention to her since she was thirteen, and they obviously liked what they saw because she could get them to do almost anything if she asked the right way. She knew exactly what they thought of her and she didn't mind; they could think what they liked. The realisation that Rory was a boy like all the others and might think of her the same way they did made her very uneasy. But then again, he had never talked about her like they did, he had never tried to show off for her or convince her that he was better than whichever boy she was favouring at the time.

It was all horribly confusing. Rory was Rory but Rory was also a boy. That meant that in some way, he liked her for being just a girl, and that he must like other girls. It was a thought that came with an unexpected and thoroughly unpleasant shock, and Amy realised then that she couldn't stand the idea of Rory liking any girl who wasn't her.

Though neither of them knew it, by Thursday they had both arrived at the same point in their mutual confusion. What brought them to a stop was that neither of them had considered their relationship ever could be anything more than what it was.

Rory had simply assumed that all Amy wanted was to be his friend, and there was nothing he could do about that, so he went on being the best friend he could be. Sometimes he caught himself wondering what it would be like to kiss her, but managed to convince himself it was just as unlikely as the times he thought about kissing Angelina Jolie. Never mind that she made his stomach flip and his heart pound in his ears whenever she hugged him, he'd always thought that would be as far as it went.

Amy's problem ran in the opposite direction. She once joked she had kissed half the guys in the county, but she had never even considered kissing Rory. It wasn't even because she thought Rory wasn't interested in kissing her, it was because she knew she couldn't just kiss Rory. Kissing other guys had been a laugh, a bit of fun and – briefly – even a job. She couldn't just kiss Rory and grin and laugh like it was nothing. But she could kiss him, which was a revelation in itself.

There was a word looming in both of their minds, larger and larger, harder and harder to ignore, and that word was boyfriend.

Amy wondered if she could have Rory as a boyfriend and still have him being the same Rory she'd spent the last ten years with. Rory wondered if he even knew how to be a boyfriend, or if Amy wanted one at all, since none of her previous ones had lasted for more than a few months. Both of them were terrified of actually asking about it.

Friday came, and Amy decided she'd had enough. Not since her days of arguing about her imaginary friend had one person consumed so much of her attention. She was tired of the uncertainty that got worse and worse every hour they avoided each other. So she called Mels and decreed that they were going out for the evening and were going to have fun no matter what.

About half an hour later, Rory strolled past Amy's front door. Five minutes later, he walked past again. On his third pass, he finally got around to knocking.

Amy's father answered the door suspiciously quickly. "Hello, Rory. I'm afraid Amelia isn't here. She and Melody went out for the evening. Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"No... thanks." Rory shook his head.

He started to turn away and then stopped. "Augustus?"

"Yes, Rory?"

He couldn't bring himself to ask the obvious question, so he asked the one he really needed the answer to.

"Did... did you ever know a girl who... was like your best friend and... you knew that you wouldn't have any other friends like her?"

"As it happens, Rory, I did."

"So... what happened?"

Augustus Pond patted Rory's elbow and smiled. "My dear boy, I married her."

"Right," Rory nodded slowly. "Umm... thanks."

"You're welcome, Rory."

That left him, just like it had on Sunday, standing on the garden path wanting to run. Except this time, he didn't want to run away. All those years he had played Amy's games by Amy's rules and it had never occurred that there was another way. Because he knew for certain that all he wanted in the world was to be with Amy.

For the first time in his life, Rory felt brave.

There was only one place to go in Leadworth for what Amy had in mind. It wasn't exactly a club, more a pub with delusions of grandeur, but the bar served alcohol to anyone who could prove they were eighteen and the rear room played music loudly enough to keep the youth of the village out of trouble a few nights a week.

Tonight it was playing some entertainingly silly music, most of which was at least ten years old and some of which was older than some of the customers. Amy didn't care, she just wanted something she could dance to and laugh about.

Except that it wasn't working. She still couldn't forget about Rory. He'd come here with them often enough, to hold their drinks while they danced and join in every now and then, inevitably resulting in him falling over. She wanted him to be there with her, everything seemed so much better with him around. It was finally dawning on her that the sick feeling in her stomach when she thought of him was that she missed him, and missed him terribly. One week had been torture; the idea that she might never spend time with him again was terrifying.

For all she had done to provoke this situation, Mels seemed unaware of its effects. "You promised me fun!" she yelled over the music. "Hang on!" She disappeared for a few minutes, then returned grinning madly. "Come on, Amy!"

Amy didn't have a chance to ask what she meant, because the music shifted into the opening notes of a song she and Mels knew very well. After ten years, they had dancing the Macarena down to an art. They could keep perfectly in step with each other and the music and the moves were just what she needed to stop thinking and enjoy herself.

Afterwards, she never knew it was deliberate or not, but despite all those years of practice, Mels missed a step. She turned too early and in the process hit Amy hard enough to knock her off balance and send her stumbling sideways. She tripped over someone else's foot and would have gone face first into the floor if someone hadn't caught her.

Except it wasn't just someone. It was Rory.

It would be hyperbole to say that the universe held its breath, but that was how it felt to Amy and Rory. It was a moment shared by millions of beings throughout time, but for them it was unique.

He held her tightly, and she was glad because for the first time in her life her legs seemed to have abandoned her and her stomach dropped away like she was falling. He held on to her, tighter and closer than he'd ever done before. The look in his eyes was enough for her; the fear and uncertainty of the last week flashed out of existence like it had never been she felt amazingly, impossibly happy.

Rory wanted so badly to say sorry, to tell her everything and to reassure her it would all be all right, but the music was still so loud and if there were even words for this, he couldn't think of them.

So he kissed her instead.

In contrast to the moment that preceded it, the awkward, clumsy kiss in the centre of the noisy disco seemed like it was over in a flash. But it lasted long enough. They both stood, frozen to the spot, while behind them, Mels laughed until she fell over. Neither of them spoke; just this once, they didn't need to.

Then, finally, the song changed to something slower. Amy gently slipped her arms around Rory's neck and nestled her head on his shoulder, pressing her cheek gently against his. They slowly started to sway in time with the music, getting used to their newfound proximity and the feeling of quiet joy that came with it. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, and they wondered how they'd gone so long without it.

When even that song was over, Amy tilted her head towards the exit and Rory followed her. Outside, in the cool air of a spring evening, they looked at each other, wondering if they should be seeing something different.

"It'll be all over the village by tomorrow afternoon," Amy said at last.

Rory shrugged. "I suppose. Do you mind?"

"Of course not! And Mels can laugh all she likes. I don't care."

"So... what now?"

Amy smiled, slipped her fingers around Rory's and squeezed his hand. "Walk me home?"

They walked slowly through Leadworth, in no hurry to go anywhere. Somewhere on the journey, Amy asked Rory how his week had been, and Rory cheerfully dredged up everything he could remember about work and all the latest hospital gossip his friends had mentioned. Amy laughed along with the stories and told a few of her own, cheerfully swinging their arms together as they walked.

The stories ran out before they reached her house – because they took the longest route they possibly could – so they walked the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. It could have been any other night, except for their hands.

"So what shall we do tomorrow?" Amy asked.

"Tomorrow?"

"Saturday night? When couples go on dates? We're a couple now, we should go on a date."

"Right. Yes... Couple. Date."

Amy tilted her head and smiled, trying to restrain a giggle. "So where are you going to take me?"

"Umm..." Rory shrugged again; he really hadn't thought this far ahead.

"Okay, surprise me. You know I love surprises."

Rory nodded. "Right. A surprise. Okay."

He thought he should be panicking, or wondering if she'd really meant it or was going to change her mind, but he wasn't. Because whatever else he did in his life, he had kissed Amy Pond, and no one could take that away from him.

Then the house's door opened and Amy's mother stuck her head out. "Amy! Rory! I... thought you might have forgotten your keys again."

"Nope, still got them."

"Okay."

And the door closed again.

Rory, who suddenly found himself thinking about the reactions of her parents, his parents, their friends and the entire village, asked awkwardly, "Do you... think she noticed?"

"She's my mum, we're both grinning like idiots, and you're still holding my hand."

Amy laughed, Rory just stammered. Looking at him, flustered, awkward and embarrassed made the pleasant warmth inside her burn white-hot again. A first kiss could have been dismissed as a fluke or an anomaly, and Amy had had more than enough first kisses to know that. So she pulled him close and kissed him like she'd never kissed any other boy because she was Amy and he was Rory, and this kiss would be far from their last.

It was not a happy ending. They still had many miles to travel, through light and dark, death and life, across stormy oceans and baking deserts, to other times, distant stars and phone boxes without end. But they would go together, because the universe had granted them the best and rarest of things: a happy beginning.