Rory turned in the bed for what felt like the millionth time. And then again. He twisted his head to look at Amy, sleeping peacefully next to him. Her hands curled around his arm and she murmured something quietly in her sleep.
Sometimes, Rory almost felt guilty having his wife sleep next to him like this. He felt like a liar. She would never be so relaxed around him if she knew.
Frustrated, he turned away from her, her soft fingers sliding off of his arm. No one would be relaxed around him if they knew.
Two thousand years without her and she's content with 'I don't remember.' Of course I remember. How could I not?
Every second without her had been an aching pain in his heart, but he knew that he had to keep going. Only the knowledge that he would see her again had kept him going.
And the things that I've done…
A Roman centurion was not a valiant knight or radiant warrior. Of course they were made out to be that way now-a-days, but it was so far from the truth that sometimes Rory didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
'I don't remember,' he had said. That had been the easiest thing to say. How could he possibly explain the guilt that ate away at him with every breath he took? He realized, he was only still breathing for Amy. She was the thing he could not let go of or lose.
He felt her stir next to him and he quickly closed his eyes, trying to adjust his breathing to make it seem like he was sleeping.
He rolled around to face her, finding her big green eyes.
"Why are you awake?" Her voice was only a whisper in the darkness, almost as if the time of the night was sacred.
"Just… not very tired."
Amy rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated huff.
"Sometimes, you are absolutely terrible at lying. How can you not be tried after one of the Doctor's adventures?" She nudged him playfully. "Or after one of ours?"
"Fine. Bad dreams."
Rory turned away from her again in frustration, determined to divert her from this topic. He knew it wouldn't be possible though. When Amy had her mind on something, it would take an army to stop her. Scratch that. She would plow down the army and keep going.
"What's bothering you, centurion?" Her voice was teasing and she nudged him again.
Rory ground his teeth angrily. Of course she had to say that.
"Don't call me that." His words shook through his gritted teeth. He threw the blankets aside and rolled out of bed.
"Whoa. Sorry." Amy sat up and made a face that was mocking a frown. Her tone made it obvious that she didn't know she had hit a pressure point.
"I am not a centurion and I do not want to remember being one!"
Amy opened her mouth, then closed it, only just realizing what he had said. Her lips barely moved.
"You said you didn't remember…"
Rory froze, working his jaw. He had let it go. He would have to explain.
"I… um…" He nervously licked his lips. He couldn't say all he had done. How could he?! He felt like he was beginning to panic.
Amy climbed slowly out of bed.
"But you do, don't you?"
"Then why did you just-"
"Fine! I remember, okay! I remember!"
Amy shrank back, looking a little hurt, and his guilt just grew. He had never yelled at her before.
"You lied to me." She sounded betrayed.
"Yes, I lied," Rory heaved out in frustration. "But I had to."
"Why?" She came closer and reached for his hand, but he pulled back.
"No. You don't want to do that. You don't know what I've done."
"What do you mean? When?"
"As a Roman. You grew up with the idea that they were amazing and perfect. But they're not."
"B-But weren't you? You're Rory. So what if Romans aren't perfect. You are."
"No, Amy. You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then tell me. Tell me why you're not perfect." She stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest, obviously not happy that he was denying his 'perfection.'
"Go back to bed, Amy." He grabbed a sweatshirt off of the dresser and pulled it on, turning away and heading for the door.
"Oi!" Amy grabbed his arm before he could get out of reach and twirled him around to face her. "Where do you think you're going? Don't start up a conversation and then think you can walk away."
"I don't want to talk, Amy," he mumbled.
"Why? Because keeping it inside will help?!"
Rory growled in frustration and shook her arm off.
"Fine! You want to know?! You want to know what the centurion did?! He – I – killed people! Human beings, Amy! I burned down houses, I… I'm disgusting, and horrid, and terrible! And I certainly remember all of it! Every minute! Are you happy now?!"
The silence that followed resonated with shock. Amy's mouth dropped open, but she quickly closed it, sitting down hard on the bed.
"No, I'm not."
"But what about after we found each other again? And everything with the Pandorica?"
"Y-You fixed me, Amy. I found my morals again."
"See, it couldn't have been that bad. How long were you a Roman before I found you?"
"A long time, Amy." His voice was hollow."
"But that didn't really happen."
"But it did," Rory protested. "It happened. I remember. I even still have the armor."
"Fine." Amy sat down hard on the bed. She seemed to be in denial about all this.
"It's true," he pressed. "Would I make any of this up?"
"No, I just-" Amy wiped at her face.
Oh no, I made her cry.
Rory came over and sat on the bed next to her, gently taking her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest and let him cradle her.
"I'm sorry, Amy. I shouldn't have said anything."
"No." She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes sad and glistening with tears. "Don't start apologizing. You've had this on your chest for too long. You should have told me sooner."
"I was afraid of scaring you. Are you scared?"
"Am I? No. I'm sad. I'm sad that all of this happened to you. But… you still did some good things as a Roman, right?"
"Mostly good," Rory responded. "Though the bad always seemed to be so much heavier."
"Well, don't let it be that way." Amy snuggled closer to him. "Don't let it be heavier than your armor."
Rory, although grateful, was still shocked by her reaction.
"You're not bothered by this?"
"No, because you are Rory and my husband. My Rory. I will always love you, centurion."