Let's write!

The ball drop and noise from the television are a fair indication it's now 1979.  Amy clicks the volume down, running a curious hand through her hair- red, then salt and pepper, now almost all grey.  She nudges Rory awake, who was already dozing in a nearby chair, figuring he'd have wanted to see the event. But he is sound asleep.  Amy laughs a little to herself. 

 

It's truly hard to believe that in ten years time, she and Rory would be born. They'd grow up, meet Mels, have adventures , and eventually end up stuck in the 1930s.  She turns her attention to the mantle.  Beyond the random assortment of figurines and old cards (some made by Anthony when he was small), there's a few grey photographs.  One is her and Rory with the Doctor near the stone lions in London, one is an old class picture of Anthony when he was about ten, and the one she picks up and delicately holds is one of herself and Rory.  It was a past New Years Eve...1949 or so. It's hard to remember the exact year anymore. But one thing she does remember is what she'd said on the fateful day of the Angel: together or not at all.  Through everything, they'd been together.  They'd had all this time together that no photograph (whether in colour or grey) could capture.