Author's Note: After their wedding, but before Rory and Amy came home, they traveled for a time with the Doctor. This is one of their adventures. It has continuity with my other stories, "The Doctor is Out" and "Stormcage," but you shouldn't need to read those to understand it. When you're done, I hope you'll take a few minutes to review. Happy reading!

###

"Oh my God," said Rory Williams. "This may be the best coffee I've ever had. Wait, scratch that. I think it's the best thing I've ever tasted, period."

His wife, Amy, sipped from her steaming mug and nodded in agreement. The drink in her hand had wonderful rich dark notes of coffee, chocolate, cinnamon and fresh berries. There was a slightly alcoholic flavor, appropriate for a dessert drink, but something else too. It didn't sit heavy on the tongue. There was no bitterness. She felt fresher and warmer for having sipped it, relaxed but clearheaded. She could drink this every evening and never tire of it.

"It's not really coffee," said the Doctor, taking a tiny sip. "Well it is. Well it isn't." He shook his head. "It's quite special, even among the Chvet. They only drink it on holidays and special occasions. It is a very great honor." He took another sip, savoring the rich drink. "Takes hundreds of years to cure properly," he continued. No one had asked him for an explanation, but no one jumped up to stop him either. "You see, first it has to be processed in the digestive tract of the female—" He caught himself and coughed politely into his hand.

Both Rory and Amy looked into their mugs, matched expressions of horror on their faces.

The Doctor took another sip, but whether this was out of good faith, or simply to hide his expression, neither of his friends could say.

Rory swallowed hard and said, "The female what?"

"You boys take me to the nicest places," Amy sighed.

"It's rather complicated, is all I'm saying." The Doctor tugged at his tie. "Um. I should mention that it would be a really bad idea to—tip it in the snow or anything like that."

"How bad?" said Amy.

Rory was already looking for a good spot to discreetly empty his glass.

"Oh, slightly worse than usual." The Doctor leaned back and took another casual sip. "Though not as bad as it could be."

"All right then," said Rory. Dissuaded from his plan to bury it in the snow underneath their picnic rug, he pinched his nose and poured the liquid down his throat, draining the glass entire in a single gulp. The fact that it tasted as fine and clean as ever didn't comfort him at all. He sat there looking slightly green around the edges. He grinned in a way that suggested he and the Doctor take the argument up when there was no chance of a diplomatic incident.

An awed hush spread through the crowd around them.

They were sitting in a ice cavern, surrounded by white snow. About a dozen feet away, ice crystals fell from a high cliff and ran, chiming, down a frozen river. Each crystal was needle-shaped and about the length of Amy's thumb. It was too cold for bright barbs to melt into water, but they were so fast-moving that they never froze in place. It was an ice waterfall. For the first time in thousands of years, it was bathed in the golden light from the TARDIS. It was extraordinarily beautiful, the sort of thing that would make a brave man weep. The eyeless Fa'dkin Chvet, for whom the sound of the icefall was the heart of their planet's mystery, were able to see it for the first time in the timeship's light.

It is safe to say that they were thoroughly impressed.

Between the TARDIS and the ice river, Amy, Rory and the Doctor sat on a large picnic blanket with an excellent spread: cold chicken, Chvet cheese and red Martian crackers, and tiny sweet pink fruits that glowed in the dark. Surrounding them was a fairly large group of Fa'dkin Chvet: furry white critters the size of kittens and the shape of bells, who walked on dozens of long legs terminating in soft white paws.

The Fa'dkin Chvet lived in the caves, had no eyes, spoke with silence, and made the best coffee in the universe. There were places where a tiny glass of it cost a solid gold ingot. It was worth the price. The travellers weren't drinking that.

The Fa'dkin Chvet also made a secret coffee that was only given to those of the greatest honor and respect: those considered part of the family of the Fa'dkin. You couldn't set a price on it. If you took it from the sacred caves, it went right off. It was their pride, their craft, their cultural identity. Rory had an empty glass of it in his hand. Amy had half a glass in hers.

The Doctor had barely even sipped a finger of his.

Everyone stared at Rory. Even Amy. Even the eyeless furry aliens.

"Oh, come on," said Rory. He did his best to return every hard-edged stare. "I mean, honestly."

"Doctor." Amy's voice had a hint of a shiver in it. She was worried that they had committed some terrible cultural faux pas.

"It's all right," said the Doctor softly. "They're just impressed. Me too."

An ice cube of terror between Rory's shoulder blades thawed a little. He surveyed the Fa'dkin Chvet. He couldn't read anything in their expressions. If they had expressions.

"Well," said the Doctor, clapping his hands. "I'm off to have a chat with the high council. Don't wait up." He got to his feet and dusted some crumbs from his jacket. As he moved, Amy thought she saw him wince. It had been days since their last adventure, but the Doctor had been deeply hurt. He seemed to be recovering slowly, though he hid it well from the two people closest to him. Only when he moved too quickly did it seem like his body was too heavy for him.

"Can we come?" said Amy.

"I wouldn't dream," said the Doctor, "of stopping you. But I doubt it will be very interesting. You won't understand what we're saying."

Rory said, "But I thought the TARDIS translated every language."

"It's not really a language. They speak by manipulating silence. There's nothing for the TARDIS to translate." The Doctor thought for a moment. He rested his chin in his hand. "Here, why don't you have a look around. Take some lamps from inside. Just—don't leave the caves, all right? The Fa'dkin aren't the only people on this planet. And there's a Cull on."

"What's a Cull?" said Amy.

"Bit of a ritual," said the Doctor, unhelpfully. "Nothing to worry about down here."

"Famous last words," Rory whispered in Amy's ear. "Better bring a big stick."

Amy rolled her eyes, but thought it was probably a good idea.

The Doctor stepped out of the shaft of yellow light and was immediately surrounded by a group of Fa'dkin Chvet. The moment he was wrapped in the shadows of the ice cave, he reached into his coat and brought out his sonic screwdriver. He left it on a low setting and a tiny ember of blue light appeared on the tip, casting shadows on the cave walls. He walked carefully so he was never in danger of stepping one of the aliens. Meanwhile another helpful group began gathering and nudging the remains of dinner from the blanket. The Fa'dkin prided themselves on hospitality.

"Get some things together," said Amy softly to her husband. The Doctor was not above lying to them. If he thought that bit of flimflam was going to get her to leave him alone, he was badly mistaken.

"Maybe he just wants a moment to himself." Rory thought he and Amy deserved some quiet time too, though not to walk around some dark ice caves.

"I'll be right back," said Amy. She squeezed his arm.

"Fine." Rory started to roll their picnic blanket. "Don't get culled."

"Two minutes." She slipped away, following the watery light from the Doctor's screwdriver.