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Although he was an Auton in a Roman legion costume with a lot of his human qualities and consciousness restored, Rory wished the ability to sleep would return to him. While it's not clear how long a human can go without sleep, bodily functions start to go haywire. Anxiety, irritability, and madness start spurring. Reports he's read in nursing school say that after 36 hours, hallucinations could begin. Then after 72 hours, hallucinations could intensify into delusions which is pretty much psychosis. Then at the 96-hour mark, one's reality will be severely distorted and mad as the body searches for slumber.
So what is there to say for someone who's been awake for over a thousand years guarding a box where so much of the time is repetitive? He can't say. Although sometimes he's felt that his mind sleeps or turns off in a thousand-year dark night.
Although so much time has passed, the moment he reunited with Amy in Stonehenge in AD 102 is the freshest memory. He didn't want to look at anything else now that he got to see her again. He didn't want to think of anything else now that she's entered his mind and restored it for that matter. The moment when tears ran down her face as she delicately touched his face with her fingerless gloves, watching her fight against her subconscious to remember him as he fought against the one programmed in his new form and ordering her to run away from him, and hearing her say it so softly yet determined:
"Williams. Rory Williams from Leadworth. My boyfriend. How could I forget you? You're Rory Williams and you aren't going anywhere ever again."
Then he couldn't hold back much longer. Her gasp from his programmed shot stopped his phantom heart as she gripped onto him so tight before she limped back into his embrace.
But in a way, she was right. He didn't go anywhere. Over a thousand years spent standing guard in front of a box that they were only pretty sure would keep her alive.
He's seen so much in those thousand years. He's warded many people passing by and fought away potential threats. This was the box— the woman— he swore to guard and protect until the day it will open again. The millions or billions of faces blur like time passing. Noises become buzzes and static, a rhythmless cacophony. The only noises that ring clearly are Amy's voice and the shot that killed her.
"My boyfriend. How could I forget you?"
Even the bombs from the ongoing Blitz in 1940 (or was he already in 1941?) London didn't ring clear. That is until one knocks him right off his feet and slams him into a nearby wall in the warehouse. His ears ring — a shifting of gears inside him — as his armour absorbs the vibrations from the impact, his body shaking as his eyes take in the first new sight in days. If he were truly human, his eyes would blur and he'd need a minute to adjust, but he could perfectly see the flames spurting from the hole in the roof where the bomb flew through. Structure beams, electrical wires, and plumbing distort around him but he doesn't have time to take in the disaster.
He has to get The Pandorica out of here.
Rory's been prepared for this situation. He's taken The Pandorica through many catastrophes: storms, displacements, battlegrounds, and even floods.
He unclips the rope from his belt and throws the loop around the box, tightening it with all his strength. He knows that Amy is safer in the Pandorica than he is out here, but that's besides the point. She will be safer with him guarding and protecting the outside. That's his mission; that's his purpose. And to be frank, he knows that he's safer knowing that she's well protected by him and the Pandorica. It's a part of what got him through the thousand years in counting.
"Rory, you have to get out of here without me."
Amy's voice is clearer now than it's ever been in his mind when reminiscing. This can't be a memory. It's as if she's in the burning warehouse with him, but she's not. She can't be. She's in the Pandorica. He shakes his head, clearing even the slightest idea that he was running out of here without her.
"You're plastic, Rory, you'll melt."
Before Rory starts pulling on the rope, a scream from somewhere in the warehouse catches his attention. He knows that people who have lost their houses in the blitz have often come to the warehouse district for refuge.
"Rory, help them."
Rory pauses, looking at the box before shaking his head. "I can't. You're my priority. I need to save you."
"As Roman as you are, the man I fell in love with first is a nurse."
Rory can't help but know that she's right. The Pandorica has been through so much with him, and he can't let an innocent life die when he's more than capable of getting them to safety.
"Besides, not like I'm going anywhere."
Rory cracks a small grin with a laugh, the first he's done that since he awoke in this form. "You'd better be there when I return."
Rory drops the rope and starts running. Another scream guides him from the fire. The human instinct in him wants to cover his mouth from the smoke, but he doesn't need that in this form. He leaps over fallen structure beams, looking in every direction. He stumbles upon many bodies, hoping that the scream wasn't from one of them and that he was too late. He could've been here sooner if— the scream for help returns.
Rory's head pivots in that direction and he sees a woman on the ground, her body hunched. He heads over and kneels by her side, brushing the dust and debris off her as she coughs. She looks up at him and her blue eyes pierce through the burning red and gold of the explosions and the building smoke.
"Are you okay?" Rory asks, looking at a gash on her forehead.
"My- my baby," she stutters, her body shaking.
Rory looks down and sees a soot-covered baby pressed against the woman's chest. Although her body trembles, he knows that all her strength is devoted to holding that baby.
"You and your baby will be fine," Rory comforts her. "Let me help."
The woman nods and Rory takes hold of the baby. He takes off the baby's blanket and scrunches it up, holding it up to the woman's face so she can use it to block out the smoke. He then relocates the baby to inside her jacket, and he buttons it up as high as it would go. The woman hugs an arm to hold her baby as Rory helps her to her feet.
A man in dark clothes approaches them, running through the smoke and coughing heavily. A relieved sob escapes the woman as the man, who Rory could only assume is her husband, takes her.
"Thank you," he tells him.
Rory nods. "Get out of here, both of you. And protect your child at all costs!"
As they escape through the flames, Rory's heightened hearing picks up bombs soaring above. He instinctively grips his sword as the bombs land nearby. The ground shakes and Rory sprints back towards the Pandorica.
"Okay, Amy," Rory says, "we're getting out of here now."
Before Rory could even heave, beams fall from above and pile on top of him. His head hits the ground and everything's ringing. His vision dazes as he tries to focus on his surroundings once again. Pieces of infrastructure pin him to the ground, trapping him in the growing flames that continue to approach him. If he were human, the daze would be a concussion and the sweat would be actual sweat and not melting plastic forming around his armour.
He remembers the Doctor's words before he made this choice to stay by Amy's side for 2000 years. Not a minute of sleep but a conscious intake of every second. He's been going mad despite being not mortal but living plastic. He's not indestructible. He can't heal or repair himself so any damage is permanent.
"I'm sorry, Amy…" Rory mutters, pushing the beams off him. His arms have indents from the damage but he can find a way to fix it later. He grunts as he gets back to his feet and grabs his rope.
"Rory."
Her voice this time pierces differently than it ever has before. Everything around him slows, cools down, freezes. Her voice sends shivers down his back. He turns around and she stands right behind him. The flames that were burning in orange extinguish and all the light focuses on her burning red hair.
Rory exhales as he stares at her. He feels The Pandorica still closed behind him, but here Amy Pond is, right before his eyes. He can't explain this. She's still in The Pandorica, she has to be. But he never thought he would see her alive again except in his wildest dreams while awake.
"It can't be…" Rory mutters.
"It's not," Amy responds. "You have to get out and save yourself, Rory. I'm the last hope, the last sense in that stubborn centurion mind to try and get you out of here."
Rory shakes his head. "As I said, not without you."
"And as I said, I'm not going anywhere."
"You're so Scottish."
"And you're so Roman."
Rory turns away from her, looking at the sealed Pandorica. He's been with this box, with his true love inside, only conversing with conversations with her in his head. Bombs soar above and continue to explode around them, a faint whistle travelling over his head, but he can only focus on the version of his lover standing behind him … and she isn't even the real version. Then again, neither is he.
He leans forwards, resting his head on the box. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. He grew so accustomed to the sound of gears shifting inside, a trap still at work. Amy takes a few steps until she's next to him.
"Am I going to see you again?" Amy asks.
"Maybe…" Rory mutters.
"Come on, not even to say goodbye to me?"
Rory slowly turns his head, peeking open one eye to look at her. Her expression is solemn as he watches her lean in closer to him. Locks of her red hair fall past her shoulders and he wants nothing more than to reach out and feel them between his fingertips.
"I can't," Rory mutters. "I don't want to do that."
"I'm sorry it had to be this way," Amy tells him. "All my memories were a trap for The Doctor but it brought you back. Then it's been over a thousand years of you, me, and The Pandorica. All eggs in one basket hoping it all works out— or in one box, I should say."
"It's not your fault. It was the best idea to bring you back. You had to go inside."
"I know, but that doesn't mean I'm not sorry." Amy smiles but he can tell but how her eyes divert down that it's a forced one to hide the pain. It's an expression he knows so well cause he's worn it before. "I was never good at telling you this, but you were the best first love a girl could have. If only we had more time."
"Don't," Rory orders firmly. "Don't talk like that. I'll tell you the truth but never a goodbye. Only 71 or 72 years left."
"If you make it."
"Money where your mouth is time."
When he sees Amy smile, he feels adrenaline spark and start to run through his phantom veins. He grips tightly on the rope tied around the box and Amy's hands grab hold around his. They lock eyes and she nods. The background around here— around them— starts returning to the burning warehouse. Flames and thick smoke start reaching for them once again, more persistent as they grow bigger than them and The Pandorica.
"There's the British man I fell in love with," Amy whispers. "Your bronze armour was starting to mould itself onto you."
"We're getting out of here," Rory states. "Heave!"
Rory grunts as he and Amy start pulling The Pandorica through the warehouse. The bombs destroyed so much that he can no longer remember the schematics of what the place looked like before. He turns around, throwing the rope over his shoulder to continue pulling. Amy lets go but runs ahead to lead the way.
"I thought you were a Roman!" Amy yells.
Rory exhales a quick laugh. "Your fantasy, not mine!"
Through the haze, he continues following her while also heaving her real form in the box. She runs through an opening in the wall and he's never been more relieved to be outdoors. The fresh air hits like whiplash, but he continues pulling to a safe distance. As if automatically, Rory collapses to the ground, sitting on the curb of the road and leaning against the box.
"Rest now, soldier," Amy tells him. "I'll see you in 71 or 72 years."
Standing above him, she rests a hand on his cheek. He keeps his eyes on her, meeting her gaze through the shadows. Her burning red hair blends into the golden sun above, and then she disappears.