She turns her back on the angel, takes one last look at the Doctor, and the world disappears around her.

A heart-stopping instant of nothingness and the world blinks back into being, but everything feels wrong. The air tastes different. Even at a glance she can tell the cemetery is smaller. It's happened, then.

She is alone in a foreign country, at the wrong moment in time, and the Doctor will not be able to save her. And what if Rory isn't here? What if the angel sent her to some other point in time, what if this is the worst idea she's ever had, if she's lost Rory and the Doctor both --

"Amy!" She hears Rory's voice from behind her, and whirls around, and he's right there, he's real. They're clinging to each other, both crying a little bit, both shaking.

"I can't believe you," Rory murmurs against her hair, pressing kisses as though he can't stop himself. She's in no hurry to let go of him anytime soon. The exultation (it worked! he's here! they're together!) is so strong it almost cancels out her memory of the look on the Doctor's face. "She could have sent you anywhere. Anywhen."

"Oh, come on," Amy says, trying to sound light. "We just jumped off a building together. Besides, for the two of us? Time travel isn't anything new."

"It's not the same. You know it isn't. But I'm so glad you're here." He's crying now. "I don't want to be glad, but I am."

"Where else would I be?" Amy pulls back to look at him, because honestly, doesn't he get this yet?

"Traveling," Rory says helplessly. There had only been one name on the tombstone. He hadn't realized she would follow him here. He'd thought she would stay with the Doctor.

She closes her eyes for a moment, remembering the sound of the TARDIS. The Doctor's laugh and his whimsy and his strangely youthful joy. The way it had felt to pull the lever and whirl into something unknowable and new. And then she opens her eyes, and looks through tears at her equally teary-eyed husband, and she knows this is the only decision she could possibly have made.

"We've both been feeling ready to settle a bit, yeah?" Amy's voice is a bit hoarse, but she plunges on. "I've got the best adventure of them all, right here."

This time when they kiss it feels like their wedding all over again. As though they're committing to each other again, reconsecrating their vows, with the rows of headstones as witnesses.

A theatrical cough startles them apart. There's a car idling on the road, and standing outside of it, leaning against it, is River Song.

"River!" How much whiplash between sorrow and joy can one heart take in a day? Amy runs to her as fast as she can, but Rory gets there first.

"Father," River says, hugging him tight. "Mother." Amy gets a hug, too; River smells of soap and sandalwood.

"How did you--" Rory begins.

River grins. "Took a bit of work, but I found you." She taps her vortex manipulator lovingly. "And then I arrived a bit early so I could make some arrangements."

They're not entirely adrift from everyone they've ever loved and known. That realization alone is enough to buoy Amy's spirits, and then she processes what she just heard. "Arrangements?"

"Get in," River says, gesturing with her head to the backseat. "We're going to your flat."

"Our flat," Rory repeats, disbelievingly.

"Fine, 'apartment,'" River says, sliding in to the driver's seat of the big strange American car. "You've got the rest of the day off, but tomorrow you both have interviews."

Amy's head is spinning. "Interviews with whom?" She climbs into the car and Rory follows.

"Rory's meeting with one of the chief residents at New York Hospital. You might want to pass yourself off as a doctor," River adds, to Rory; "there aren't many male nurses here at this point in time, and you probably know more than most early twentieth century M.D.s anyway."

"I'll...think about it," Rory says weakly. He's clenching Amy's hand; she thinks he's trying not to laugh.

"And you have an interview with Hard Case Crime," River says to her. "They're looking for an editorial assistant, someone savvy, maybe a bit Continental." She winks. "And I happen to know they're going to publish Melody Malone's breakaway hit in a few years, so you'd better get your foot in the door."

"Okay then," Amy agrees. What else can she say?

"I can't stay long, but I'll get you to your apartment, and I'll be back when I can," River promises.

"This is -- thank you, we didn't expect -- " Rory's earnestness makes Amy want to tear up again.

Amy has to ask. She can't bear to ask, but she has to ask. "Is he okay?"

Amy's anxiety almost chokes her before River finally speaks. "He misses you terribly, but he's all right."

"Don't let him be alone," Amy says. "Don't you dare let him be alone."

"I wouldn't," River says firmly. "And not just because you asked, you know."

"I do know," Amy admits, and leans into Rory, and he holds her close.

They drive a moment in silence before River offers more. "Actually, he offered some opinions on your new place."

"Did he." Amy's not sure she can imagine that. The Doctor looking at period real estate ads?

River's smile is fond. "He might have insisted that I get someone to repaint your door."

"Repaint our door," Rory repeats, sounding baffled.

Amy's heart clenches. "Oh," is all she can say, and River's eyes meet hers in the rearview mirror, and River nods.

Amy knows now what they're going to see when they reach whatever building River's chosen, when they enter the elvator or climb whatever rickety stairs. Their apartment door is going to be blue.

Rich blue, deep blue, just like their door in Leadworth. Every front door they ever have, for the rest of their lives, is going to be blue. So that every time they approach the place where they live, they'll catch a glimpse of the TARDIS. So it will always feel like home.

The End