Authors note,

I must say, I am LOVING the new series of Doctor Who – especially Matt Smitt ;)

This is my first Doctor Who fanfic, I started writing it as an exercise to aliviate writers block and quite liked it, so there may be for from me for this fandom …

This is set between the Beast Below and Victory of the Daleks, the Doctor and Amy are in the TARDIS. Starts immediately after the conversation with Winston Churchill

"Don't worry about a thing Prime Minister, we're on our way," the Doctor said, looking at Amy and smiling mischievously as he always did.

She laughed at the sheer impossibility of the conversation they had just had with Winston Churchill himself as the Doctor tossed the phone back into its cradle.

"Right, off we go," he said, vigorously winding a handle and then darting round to the other side of the control panel to pull a few handles. Amy heard the now familiar warp of the engines and held on to the railing as the TARDIS lurched.

"What, just like that, straight to London?" she asked as the Doctor moved her to one side so he could reach a button she had been standing next to.

"Just like that," he said, pulling the old-fashioned television screen around and tapping it until it flickered to life.

"Hold on a minute," she said, slightly thrown by the idea of leaping from thousands of years in the future to World War Two London without so much as a breather.

"What?" the Doctor said, looking up from the control panel.

"Can't we, you know, get changed first?" she asked, fingering the hem of her woefully ruined nightdress. The whale sick had dried into a sort of hard crust instead of clinging tackily to her body, though it still smelt foul. "You said there was a wardrobe, right?"

"Fair point," the Doctor admitted. He smelt the arm of his tweed jacket and pulled a face. "A shower might be a good idea too – follow me," he jabbed a few more buttons, before leaping off the control platform and heading towards a door.

Increasing her speed to keep up with his quick, light footsteps, she followed him through a maze of corridors and rooms. "How big is this place?" she asked, amazed as they walked though a ballroom.

"Not entirely sure," he said, his voice echoing. "Rooms tend to appear and disappear as they are needed."

"You wouldn't have thought all of this could fit into that little blue box," she said as they made their way up a winding staircase. A sudden idea gripped her, and she grabbed his arm in excitement. "Hey, do we, like, shrink when we come in? Is that how it works?"

"No," the Doctor said, turning around to look at her, his face screwed up in concentration. "It's hard to explain in a way that you will understand. The TARDIS is dimensionally transcendent, so the exterior and the interior are in different dimensions, but the transdimensional energy allows them to be pressed together," he explained, waving his hands around as he always did in an attempt to convey his meaning.

"Right …" Amy said slowly. She had understood what he meant (sort of) but he said it so fast that she needed a second to process it all.

Putting his hand on her shoulder, the Doctor guided her forward again, walking alongside her now. "The best way to explain it is like this …" he said, pausing for dramatic effect.

"Like what?" she prompted.

He smiled a little mischievously. "It's just bigger on the inside."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Is it really? I hadn't noticed," she said scathingly, though she was still amused.

The Doctor laughed his funny little chuckle and made a grand gesture with his arm, indicating the large circular room they had just entered. It had several doors with bathrobes hanging on pegs and the walls were lined with shelves stacked with fluffy white towels. "So, bath or shower?"

"Shower," she said definitely.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking at her with mild concern.

"Yes, I'm sure," she replied, giving him the slightly bemused, but still cynical look she reserved just for him.

The Doctor passed her some towels and one of the robes. "Okay, but I warn you the shower can be a bit temperamental at times. The bath is simpler," he said, leading her to one of the doors.

"I'll be fine," she reassured him, eager to be out of her stained and stinking nightdress.

He pushed open the door, revealing a small alcove which led to a circular room about the size of her bedroom at home. In the little alcove was a low bench ideal for leaving towels and a peg for the bathrobe.

"Very fancy," she said, impressed by the several shower heads that lined the circular room. There was a small drain in the centre, but otherwise it was all faintly shimmering white marble.

"Now, the thing with the shower -"

"Doctor, I'll be fine," Amy interrupted, beginning to get exasperated with him. "I know how to use a shower, there is no need to patronise me."

"Okay then," the Doctor said, highly amused at her stubborn tone. He leaned toward her briefly, his hands behind his back. "Figure it out yourself, Pond."

He sauntered back over to the door, pausing at the little alcove. "Leave your clothes on the bench so that they can be washed." With his hand on the door handle he gave her a very innocent look that made her wonder if she had made a mistake in rejecting his help. "I'll be just outside, you know, in case you need any help …"

And with one last, devious look he disappeared, closing the door behind him.

Frowning at the closed door, Amy quickly divested herself of the foul smelling dressing gown and nightdress. Shivering, she searched for a switch or dial to turn on the shower. Not finding any in the large, circular area she decided to check the alcove, but other than the small bench it was all smooth marble.

"Damn it," she muttered, annoyed at herself for dismissing the Doctor before he could explain how the shower worked. Swallowing her pride, she called through the door to him. "Doctor, how do I turn it on?"

Instantly, jets of water sprayed out of the showerheads, filling the little room with steam. "Thank you!" she called through the door, assuming that the Doctor had turned the water on for her.

She tested the streams of water with a hand before stepping out into their torrent. Her body was instantly soaked and she rubbed vigorously at her hair, hoping to get any dried in gunk out of the copper strands.

Within moments her skin had acquired a rosy glow all over from the heat of the water. Normally she had her showers fairly cool, and this was a little to hot for her liking. "Could do with being a bit colder," she muttered to herself.

Without any warning the steaming jets turned ice cold. She screamed in surprise and ran for the alcove so that she would be out of the frigid water. Still spluttering with indignation, she scrambled into her bathroom and burst out of the bathroom.

"I did warn you," the Doctor said, leaning against the door next to the shower with a slight smile on his face.

"Doctor, I swear your ship hates me," she said in a whining voice, feeling like a belligerent child as she dripped water all over his floor.

"Course she doesn't," he said in a way that made the idea sound ludicrous. "The shower just responds to vocal orders like on, off, hotter, colder and I would Raskolini scented shampoo today please."

"Raskolini?"

"It's a fruit that grows on the lower mountains of Gallifrey," he said dismissively, waving a hand.

Still trying to get her head around what happened with the shower, Amy said slowly, "So when I said 'how do you turn it on …?'"

"She recognised the word for on," the Doctor said, finishing her sentence. He peered around the door and gave an exaggerated shiver. "Let me guess, you were wondering how to make it cooler?"

Amy half shrugged, too cold and miserable and annoyed at the TARDIS to care much.

The Doctor noticed her expression and with one hand on her shoulder, guided her to the door he was leaning against. "I figured that you wouldn't like the shower so I ran a bath for you."

Pushing open the second door with a billow of scented steam, he revealed a spacious Victorian bathroom. There was a large, old-fashioned white tub already filled with water and bubbles. She wandered in, gazing at the claw-footed sink with its dainty little taps.

Kneeling down beside the bathtub she dipped a hand into the water to test its temperature, which was perfect. The bubbles had a strange, exotic scent that she had never smelt before. Lifting a handful of them, she bought them close to her nose to smell them better.

"That smells wonderful," she sighed. "Is it Rasko – what was it again?"

"Raskolini," the Doctor said, coming into the room. He paused, the tips of his fingers resting on the lip of the bathtub. "It was my favourite fruit growing up."

Amy looked up at him, taking in his sombre, slightly wistful expression. "You said it grew on a place called Gallifrey."

He nodded, staring at the bubbly water. "My home planet."

"What was it like?" Amy asked softly.

The Doctor smiled, his ancient, hazel eyes distant. "It was like nothing you have ever seen. We lived in the mountains, where there were vast fields of red grass, trees with leaves the colour of molten silver and the snow never melted from the peaks. From my home, nestled between the Mountains of Solace and Solitude, we could see the entire plains of the continent Wild Endeavour."

His eyes focused on Amy, staring deep into her as she listened, enraptured. "Imagine it Amy; in the autumn there was a carpet of silver, while the sky at night was a deep, burnt orange, on fire with thousands of stars. And when the twin suns rose in the morning the light would shine off the Citadel of the Time Lords. They called it the Shining World of the Seven Systems …"

His voice faded away and Amy had to look down, wrestling the emotions roused within her at the passion in his voice. "Can we visit it?" she asked. She wanted to experience all the beauty he spoke of, but more than that she wanted to see his home.

A shadow seemed to pass over the Doctors face and his eyes darkened. Abruptly, Amy remembered what he had told her about the Time Lords, how it had been a bad day, how bad stuff had happened and how he was the last one. Feeling awful, she opened her mouth to take back the request, but instead the Doctor laughed, the shadow lifting.

"Honestly, Pond," he said, giving her a fond look. "We can't go gallivanting to the other side of the Universe, we'll be late for whatever Winston needs us for."

"Right," she said quickly, grateful that he had simply shook off her request.

With his omnipresent smile back in place, the Doctor tapped the side of the bath. "I'll be in the shower then," he said, and then headed to the door. He paused and spun around. "The wardrobe is up the stairs and to the right, then take the second left. You can wear anything you like."

"Thanks," she said, still kneeling beside the bath.

With one last smile the Doctor left, shutting the door behind him.

Draping the bathrobe over the sink, Amy sunk into the deliciously fragranced bath. It was the perfect temperature, not too hot at all. She wallowed for a few minutes, savoring the feeling of being clean again.

As she relaxed, she became aware of a noise from outside. Concentrating, she realised it was coming from the shower she had just vacated; it was the sound of water running, but she was positive that she could also hear humming.

She smiled to herself and sank back into the water. Trust the Doctor to be the sort to sing in the shower. The silly little smile slid from her face as she thought about him – true, the Doctor was amazing and fun and possibly bipolar with his mood swings, but she was supposed to be getting married tomorrow …

As she always did when thoughts of her impeding marriage attacked her consciousness, she forced herself to think of other things. Dunking her head under the water she scrubbed at her hair, hardly noticing that her favorite shampoo and conditioner were perched on the side of the bath for her use.

Once she was done in the bath she pulled the plug, wrapped her long, dripping hair in a towel and donned the bathrobe once more. The door to the shower was open, so she assumed the Doctor was already done. Following his directions, she managed to find the wardrobe with little difficulty, however she froze in the doorway.

The Doctor was standing with his back to her, examining a rack of clothes. He had put on another pair of dark trousers but was still shirtless, vigorously toweling his brown hair.

"Knock knock?" she said hesitantly to announce her presence.

He turned and smiled at her, his drying hair radiating around his head like a fluffy halo. "Who's there?" he asked, dropping the towel over a chair.

She smiled at the clichéd joke and came into the room, gaping at the entwined pillars and staircases with clothes strewn everywhere – largely to stop herself from looking at his chest instead.

"You know, you were supposed to say 'The Doctor' when I said 'whose there?'" he said to her, pulling his arms into another shirt.

"Doctor who?" she complied, still looking anywhere but him.

"Just the Doctor," he said, grinning. "You have no idea how many times I have had to say that." He shook his head, seeming to be enjoying a privet joke. "Nice hat, by the way," he said, nodding at the towel she had wrapped around her hair.

She frowned at him, reaching up protectively to touch the turban. "Thanks so much," she said sarcastically.

"Women's clothes are over there," he said, pointing to the other side of the room.

Wandering over to the shelves, she eyed the clothing with rapidly growing suspicion. "And why, exactly, do you have racks upon racks of women's clothes?"

"Come again?" he asked, pulling the braces on his trousers over his shoulders.

"Well either you are in the habit of dressing up in women's clothing, or these all belong to ex-girlfriends – both theories equally disturbing."

The Doctor smiled at her acid tone. "Actually, the TARDIS supplies clothes for whoever is in here. You will find that all these are in your size and are just for you."

"For me?" she repeated, suppressing excitement; she loved clothes as much as any girl did, and if all of these were for her she might never leave this room again.

"All for you," the Doctor said distractedly. He was examining a long, brown coat with an expression that was both irritated and wistful. "Pity I'm not tall enough to pull off a trench coat anymore," he said to himself, putting the now clean tweed jacket that he had been wearing before on instead.

"You're still going to wear the clothes you stole?" she asked.

"I like them, although …" he paused, holding two different colored bow-ties in front of his face. "Yes, I think I'll go for the blue one this time," he said, tossing the other one into a corner.

Amy had been examining the racks of clothes when a very familiar lace frill caught her eye. "Doctor …" she said in a very dangerous voice, turning around to show him the dress in her hands.

His eyebrows rose almost to his hairline when he saw the French Maids outfit she was holding. "I must say, I wouldn't mind if you put it on, but it's not exactly suitable for World War Two London."

"Is this your idea of a joke?" she yelled angrily. She turned to the shelves and started pulling her other kissogram costumes down into a pile on the floor. "How did you get them, or did you just raid my wardrobe?"

"Of course not," the Doctor said, coming over to look at the growing pile of clothes. "Like I said, the TARDIS supplies the clothes and – what the hell is this supposed to be?" he asked, his hand darting down to pick up a pink playboy bunny outfit.

Amy snatched it back, glaring venomously. The Doctor raised his hands in an 'I surrender' gesture and kept talking. "Anyway, she supplies the clothes, so I suppose you could say it was her idea of a joke."

"And how does it know?" she demanded, her mouth set in a pout.

"She, not it," the Doctor said reproachfully. "She gets inside your head, translating alien languages, providing your favorite shampoo, that sort of thing."

"You're talking like it – I mean, she's alive," Amy said, interested in spite of her anger.

"Oh Amy Amy Amy!" the Doctor said, coming forward to rest both hands on her shoulders. "She's not alive in the way that you and I are, here and now, talking, breathing, digesting food, but she is still sentient and intelligent and cognizant and vigilant and …" He paused, chuckling at his unintentionally rhyming sentence. "And generally magnificent." He grinned at her. "She is my constant companion."

"You guys want some time alone?" she joked, thinking of the way he crooned over the controls and spoke to the screen.

"Watch it, Pond," he said with mock sternness, letting go of her shoulders. "Now, chop chop," he said, clapping his hands. "You need to get dressed because we need to get to London. Winston's waiting and World War Two will start in ten minutes."

Please review, even if you just want to tell me your favourite part of the series so far …?

Mine has to be the Dalek with the tray – "would you care for some tea?" = EPIC!!!

Sooo, press that little button down there …