Two thousand years pass so slowly, one second following another, the tick, tick, tick of the universe almost audible to Rory. But it’s okay, because he has a job to do, a singular purpose more important to him than anything ever has been, or ever will be. He’s guarding the greatest treasure there is, his Amy, and he’ll never leave her.
He’s living plastic, doesn’t need to eat, never sleeps, but time teaches patience so he endures, watching dispassionately as the world changes around him. A lesser man would go mad.
But not Rory. Amy’s safety is all that matters.