[Rory doesn't really react at all to Amy's embrace; not at first. He keeps his face buried in his arms and doesn't stop shaking. If anything, it gets worse. But after a very long moment or two, one arm drops to his lap and then his hand is seeking one of hers out, his fingers pushing through hers to thread and grip tightly. He might never say it--he doesn't like to acknowledge his weaknesses much, the same as she--but he's unspeakably grateful for her presence. She's not saying or doing anything, but just her BEING here with him--alive, whole, that fact of her being a copy so inconsequential--means more than he'll ever be able to repay her for.
Sometimes it seems like his quiet sobs are easing, but then they'll return anew, fresh and worse than before, and one or twice Rory feels like he's ripping apart at the seams he's crying so hard inside his head, mouth open in a silent, gut-wrenching scream. And he has no idea how long they both stay there, crumpled and devastated and broken, before his tears finally do subside. And all that's left is a Rory who is hollowed-out and numb, exhausted from venting his emotions in such a raw way, face slick with tears and his shirtsleeves and jeans damp with the ones that fell]
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Sometimes it seems like his quiet sobs are easing, but then they'll return anew, fresh and worse than before, and one or twice Rory feels like he's ripping apart at the seams he's crying so hard inside his head, mouth open in a silent, gut-wrenching scream. And he has no idea how long they both stay there, crumpled and devastated and broken, before his tears finally do subside. And all that's left is a Rory who is hollowed-out and numb, exhausted from venting his emotions in such a raw way, face slick with tears and his shirtsleeves and jeans damp with the ones that fell]