‘Amy.’
Knock, knock, knock.
‘Amy.’
Knock –
‘Why does this seem familiar? Amy? Amy!’
The Doctor opened the bedroom door to reveal a darkened room. There was a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room and in the middle of that was an Amy Pond sized shape.
The Doctor flicked on the light switch. ‘Why are you still asleep? There is a whole universe to explore out here. I apologised about the Star Whale,’ he walked over to the bed and sat down next to the Pond lump, The Doctor pulled a pillow away to reveal a mass of red hair and his new friend Amelia Pond. ‘You’re not the sort that sulks are you?’
Amy opened one eye and glared at the Doctor. ‘G’way!’ Pulling the pillow out of his hands she draped it over her head.
‘Amy, universe! You know universe, that thing you want to see? Did I mention I said sorry for the whale? I don’t that to just anyone,’ he thought briefly about his last incarnation, ‘well not anymore.’
A pale hand appeared from under the duvet and waved vaguely in his direction. The Doctor shook it.
‘No, the tissues.’ The hand waved harder.
Leaning backwards the Doctor looked about and saw a large box of tissues sitting on a bedside table. Lifting them gingerly he passed them over to the waiting hand. The box disappeared under the mound of bedclothes and some loud snuffling noises were produced. The box reappeared.
‘Thanks.’ Amy said.
‘Hang about,’ the Doctor lifted the pillow up again, ‘are you sick?’
‘Bleugh,’ Amy snuffled, ‘call yourself a doctor?’
‘You’re sick.’ The Doctor felt Amy’s forehead. ‘You’ve got a cold, when did you find time to get a cold? Must have been on the Starship UK. You’ve got a cold . . . in space,’ the Doctor stood up in delight, ‘You’ve got your very first space cold!’
A pillow bounced off the Doctor’s head.
Amy sat up in bed and hugged her knees to her chest, creating a mini avalanche of sodden tissues that tumbled to the floor. ‘Why are you happy?’ she growled.
The Doctor clutched the pillow to his chest. ‘I’m not?’ he looked at her blotchy face and teary eyes and sat down next to her on the bed. ‘I’m not,’ reaching out he thought about trying to untangle some knots in her hair before considering her current frame of mind he dropped his hand back on the bed. ‘I just thought “Hooray for Amy” it’s your first cold in space,’ he handed the pillow back to Amy, ‘I like firsts, been going through a few myself lately. First trip in space with a new friend, first big fight with friend, first time my friend met an historical figure, first time I got hit with a pill – first time I’m going to cook!’
Amy was finding it hard to keep up with the Doctor’s train of thought. ‘What?’
‘Soup!’ The Doctor bounced to his feet again. ‘Best thing for colds, I’ll cook you some soup.’
Amy briefly thought about snorting but abandoned the idea and grabbed a tissue instead. ‘What, you cook?’
‘Cook? Cook! Of course I cook, I’m a great cook. Who said I wasn’t a great cook?’ the Doctor leaned down and lowered his voice. ‘Who have you been talking to?’
Amy coughed, ‘You.’
‘Oh well, that’s okay then, because I have it on good authority that I am a great cook.’ The Doctor tugged on his bowtie, ‘I wonder if I have an apron to match this?’
‘You’re going to cook me soup?’ Amy asked.
‘Not just cook you soup, but make it from scratch!’ three long strides bought the Doctor to Amy’s doorway, spinning in place he thrust out a finger and pointed at Amy. ‘Nothing from a can for you, Amelia Pond. Just you wait!’
* * * * * * * *
Amy wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep when the Doctor rushed back into her room. Hustling her into slippers and a gown she soon found herself standing in what looked like a set from some old television show. Large clunky, old fashioned refrigerator; big stainless steel toaster; what looked like a bowl of, she was guessing, alien fruit. Off to one side of the room was a dining table that looked suspiciously like the one her aunt had when she was a child, a lot like the one that the Doctor had spent one night sitting at eating all the food in the house. Placed on the table were two big steaming bowls. Amy was pretty sure she was still in the TARDIS but sometimes it was hard to tell, how could you be sure when you kept stumbling upon impossible rooms like this?
The Doctor moved around Amy and walked into the middle of the room. ‘Well?’
Amy caught a glimpse of what the Doctor was wearing. ‘If I was feeling better I’d take you up on that.’
The Doctor looked down a little embarrassed. Muttering ‘It was the only red one,' and something about a bloke called Jack he stripped the “Kiss This Cook NOW!” apron off and scrunching it into a ball, tossed it into the corner.
Taking Amy by the shoulders, the Doctor steered her over to the table and sat her down. Walking around, he sat down opposite her and picked up a spoon.
Amy placed her box of tissues next to her bowl and looked at the soup. ‘No frying?’
‘You’re the Scottish one, not me.’
Amy picked up her spoon and stirred the soup, bits of white meat and large noodles floated to the surface. ‘What is it?’
‘What is it? It’s chicken noodle soup. Recommended by Jewish mothers the universe over, well pretty much any mother really, try it.’
Amy dipped her spoon into the soup and blew on the contents. Taking a small sip she was pleasantly surprised at the taste. ‘S’good.’
‘Good? Of course it’s good, why wouldn’t it be good? Honestly who have you been talking to?’ Taking a sip the Doctor pulled a face and spat his mouthful back into his bowl. ‘Hot, too hot.’ He pointed the spoon at the soup, ‘Why are you too hot?’
Amy coughed slightly as she tried not to laugh. Exaggerating her actions she blew on a spoonful of soup before drinking. ‘Mmmm.’
The Doctor mimicked her actions complete with sound effects before sipping. ‘That is good.’
‘You seem surprised, Doctor,’ said Amy.
‘You were surprised first,’ the Doctor waved his spoon at her. ‘Eat your soup.’
The next several minutes were filled with the clinking of spoons on bowls as the pair companionably sat eating. Maybe it was the steam from the soup or maybe it was the soup itself or maybe it was just the magical quality of finding herself in a spaceship with a crazy bowtie wearing alien but Amy was already feeling a lot better.
‘So Doctor,’ Amy said as she was scrapping the last of the noodles from her bowl. ‘You went to all this trouble just for little ole me?’
‘Trouble, what trouble,’ the Doctor said as he stirred his soup. ‘Nothing is too much trouble for the girl who waited.’
‘I just think you put in a lot of work, slaving over a hot stove just to make me some soup.’
‘Well,’ the Doctor managed to smugly shrug and look appropriately sheepish at her the praise at the same time. ‘Good chefs can whip up entire meals at a moments notice.’
‘Yeah I’m sure they can,’ Amy agreed. ‘And the really great ones remember to hide the takeaway containers before eating too.’
The Doctor turned to see where Amy was pointing. ‘Ah, yes,’ he turned back looking embarrassed at being caught out. ‘Whoops.’
Amy good naturedly frowned at the Doctor. ‘So who really cooked the soup?’
‘Mrs Norma Spencer from Essex,’ the Doctor shrugged. ‘Everyone says she’s the best.’
‘Thank you Mrs Norma Spencer.’ Amy saluted the universe with her spoon.
‘What gave me away?’
‘What apart from the big old Tupperware container? Let me see,’ Amy peered about the kitchen. ‘No dirty dishes? No stains on your oh so sexy apron?’
‘I might have cleaned up.’
Amy snorted. ‘Yeah right, a bloke cleaning up after himself, not likely.’
‘I’m not a bloke, I’m the Doctor.’
‘You’re a bloke, admit it.’
The Doctor smiled and tapped Amy on the forehead with his spoon. ‘I’m not a bloke.’
‘Yeah, whatever. Admit it Doctor even with a space cold I still rumbled you.’
The Doctor smiled and drank some of his soup. He spat it back into the bowl. ‘How can it still be too hot?’ Looking over at Amy’s empty bowl the Doctor slid his half full one towards her. ‘Seconds?’
‘Uh, no,’ Amy pushed his bowl back. ‘I’m full, thanks. So did you even try to cook?’
‘Tried? Of course I tried.’
‘And?’
The Doctor squirmed in his seat and crossed his arms.
Amy tapped her spoon against her empty bowl. ‘I’m waiting.’
The Doctor cleared his throat and muttered something.
‘Sorry, didn’t catch that.’
‘I said,’ he raised his voice slightly; ‘it seems that your eight year old self can cook better than I can. I seem to have lost the knack.’
Amy grinned, ‘I’m not surprised Mister Fish Fingers and Custard.’
‘You know –’
Amy pointed her spoon at him, ‘Don’t even think about it.’
The Doctor leant back against his seat. ‘Those were the days, eh?’
‘You know my life was normal before I met you.’
The Doctor crossed his legs and smoothed a crease out of his trousers. He looked up at her from under that ridiculous fringe and grinned. ‘You’re welcome.’
Amy sighed, it was impossible to even try and stay mad at her “mad man in a box”. ‘So chicken noodle soup cures a space cold, does it?’ she asked.
‘Well that and impossible adventures, you know what you really need, Amy Pond?’
‘I’m guessing an impossible adventure?’
‘We should go somewhere warm, somewhere exotic, somewhere you can just relax and get over your space cold.’
‘What is it with you wanting to take me places in my nightie? I can still smell the whale vomit; I’m just surprised you let me get changed to meet Winston Churchill.’
Amy leant over the table, ‘now you know where I would really like to go?’
‘There are whole planets out there dedicated to rest and relaxation.’ The Doctor warming to the idea was talking over the top of Amy. ‘We should avoid them all, too boring. Now I have a better idea . . .’
‘No I have a better idea.’ Amy jumped up and grabbed the Doctor’s arm, ‘Take me to the nearest beach or I’ll give you my cold.’
‘What?’ the Doctor found himself being dragged out the door. ‘What beach, I was talking about Caldorous II.’
‘Unless that’s a beach I’m not interested. I want sun, I want surf, and I want to feel fine sand under my toes. Oh, and if you can find some hunky surfer boys that would be good too.’
‘Amy, Amy you can’t just go ordering me –’
‘I feel a sneeze coming on; I think I want to cough up a lung. Soup’s not going to cut it this time, Doctor.’
Somehow Amy found her way to the TARDIS console. The Doctor wasn’t sure how she did it, he knew of companions that spent months in the TARDIS and still couldn’t work out where the bathroom was. He suspected she might have had some help. He glared up at the time rotor. ‘Thanks ever so much, dear.’
‘What?’ said Amy.
‘Nothing,’ the Doctor flicked a few switches and with a wheezing judder the TARDIS took flight.
‘So,’ Amy clapped her hands. ‘A day at the beach it is, do I have time to change into a bikini?’ The TARDIS shuddered and Amy was knocked into the console. ‘That was quick. Did we just land?’
The Doctor turned and looked towards the TARDIS doors. ‘Yes.’
‘And we’re at a beach?’
The Doctor’s eyes flicked up at the monitor then back at the doors. ‘Uh . . . why don’t I just check?’
Striding briskly down the ramp the Doctor pulled open the TARDIS doors. A wild flurry of snow blew in on him. The wind howled around the TARDIS console room, carrying with it the faint sounds of screams and yelling. With a yelp of cold shock the Doctor pushed the doors closed and leant against them.
‘What was that?’ Amy asked. ‘You call that a beach?’
‘No,’ the Doctor leaped away from the doors and ran up the ramp. ‘I’d call that a Mongol Horde, don’t worry they’ve never gotten in here yet.’ He began flicking switches again, rushing from one side of the console to the other. He tapped out a flurry of instructions on an old beaten up typewriter. ‘Honestly you beat Genghis Khan at one game of chess and he never lets you hear the end of it.’
‘Genghis Khan, the Genghis Khan?’
The Doctor looked over at Amy. ‘Do you know more than one?’
‘Do you?’
‘Haha.’ With a grin the Doctor sent the TARDIS back into flight.
‘Where are we going now?’
‘No idea, could be anywhere or any when. This beats a cold any day. You thought things were weird before, just you wait! Welcome to my world, Amy Pond.’
