A/N: I do not own any of these characters. They are owned by those in Britain that share them with the world.
Just watched the end of a couple seasons of DW. This combo jumped out at me.
Rory prowled around the warehouse. He had gotten the Pandorica away from the other one only three years before, and when it got moved here, he managed to get a job as night security guard here. He was starting to get just a touch impatient. Not to mention, on a night of a new moon, like this one, it was dark out. There were no stars. He could remember stars, barely, but he could. No one else alive still did, though. For them, the universe only had the Sun, the Moon, and the Earth.
He stopped near the open case, and inspected it's contents. Items that were older than he was - from the founding of the Roman Empire. Supposed to go on display in less than a week. But, they were still what he had memories of training with, using. Even if the training had been fake.
He opened the door to the outside, and looked out. There were some street lamps, but in this district, an industrial one, they were few and far between. The War, WWII to be exact, had only ended a couple years ago, and he was starting to get a bit antsy. So far, at least as well as he could tell, time - history - had followed the same path. There was only about 60 years to go, give or take, and he didn't want anything to go wrong now.
There! There it was. He knew he'd seen movement. Rory had been alive (for a given definition of alive) for over 1800 years now, and had learned to trust his gut. And that person wasn't right. He had no idea how he knew, but he could tell. Whoever that was, they simply weren't right
He could have pulled his revolver. He could have dropped the front of his hand, and used his internal weaponry (even if reloading it was a pain), but on a night like this, dark, in a warehouse district, when Rory was already on edge, old training kicked to the fore. Instead, he reached out and grabbed another item, one he was more familiar with. Balancing it in his hand, he let fly the javelin.
Jack came awake - alive would be a better description - with a gasp. Then tugged at the- what was this, a pole?- buried in his gut. Getting it out, he could feel his body slowly healing. He waited a few minutes, for the wound to completely heal.
What had hit him? He looked the item over, and searched his mind. Spear? No, not really the right shape. Wait, he knew that, from his early history studies; it was a javelin! Someone had thrown a javelin at him? What the hell!
Looking around he saw an open door in a building a long way away. A really long way away. Wow. He wouldn't expect to hit someone from that distance with a gunshot, let alone something like this javelin. And, wasn't that the museum warehouse? Huh. Someone must have been fooling around, threw it, and when they saw it hit him, got scared and ran.
Jack shook his head, and decided to leave the javelin sitting there. Maybe it would scare them further. Besides, the weevil was obviously not around here, not if it didn't come with his blood flowing like it had.
From the shadows, Rory watched the person -alien? -leave. So, definitely not human, but also not apparently a threat. Whoever, whatever it was, it was leaving. Still, it wouldn't hurt if Rory paid extra attention for the next month or 10. Not like he didn't have time.