Amy Pond yawned as she walked down the stairs towards the console room of the TARDIS. If it hadn't been for the morning coffee she'd had, she'd still be asleep like her husband, Rory. But the Doctor had promised the couple the trip of a lifetime, and she didn't want to miss a second of a potential adventure.

Yawning yet again, Amy leaned on a railing as she came down to the console level. Speaking of their bowtie-wearing alien, where was he now? He should be here already, the redhead sourly thought. He was the one who said to be in the console room early. Sighing indignantly, the Pond whirled a ginger lock around her finger, waiting.

A yawn from the stairs briefly brought up Amy's hopes that the Doctor was finally there to whisk her away, but it turned out just to be Rory. Smirking at his rumpled clothes, she planted a kiss on his forehead as he finally made his way down to where she was leaning against the rail. "Glad to see you're finally up, sleepyhead," she teased.

Rory yawned in reply. "Well, trust me, if I'd planned this day I wouldn't have made us wake up so bloody early." He pecked Amy on the lips in an embrace, and she giggled, swatting him away. Grinning, the man straightened and looked about the room, confused. "Where is the Doctor anyways?"

A clunk of objects down below them answered as the Time Lord himself appeared, walking up from the wires and gears of his beloved time machine. "Here I am, Ponds!" he said, clapping his hands together and smiling at them as he raced to the console controls. "Sorry I'm late, bit of some mechanical problems to work through." The man looked toward the couple then, grinning widely. "You'd like to hear what you're going to be up to today?" The pair of them nodded, and the Doctor smiled even bigger (if that was even possible), darting towards them and holding up his hands as if he was a circus presenter.

"The planet of Melaxon III, home to one of the biggest markets and relaxation centres in the whole universe circa the fifty-first century. Any store or spa you could dream of- it's there!" The Doctor leaned into the couple, gleaming. "There's even a few nice restaurants if I do say so myself."

Smirking at his enthusiasm, Amy walked closer to the alien. "Why're you being so nice to us? What do you have up your sleeve, Raggedy Man? What're you up to? You've never been so excited to see any place in your life. What kind of deadly danger are you getting us into now?"

"Ah, Pond, that's the best part of it all, "he said, tapping his Amelia on the nose and then typing something into the TARDIS. "No deadly dangers, no running down corridors. Just a nice day for you and Rory the Roman." Flicking a switch and pulling down a lever, the TARDIS took off in flight and he continued talking, screaming over the rattle and clutter of the time machine. "Consider it an extended honeymoon!"

The TARDIS soon stopped and as quickly as Rory and Amy got their sense of direction going again the Doctor pushed a credit card-looking thing into their hands and shooed them out the door.

The Ponds marvelled at the sight before them. Smells and scenery and sounds erupted around them as they took in the hugeness of this fifty-first century mall. The Time Lord put his arm around Rory, pointing down at the card that Amy now held. "Fifty million credits, if I'm right. Enough to splurge on even Amy Pond's impulse buying," he grinned, the redhead huffing a little indignantly at the remark. Still smirking, he winked at the pair before walking off in his own way. "Enjoy yourselves, Ponds!" he shouted over his shoulder. "I'll meet you back at the TARDIS in a few hours!"

"And what'll you be doing?" Amy called back.

"Stuff!" the man vaguely answered, soon out of earshot for them to ask anything of him.

"I hope he'll be okay, whatever he's off to," the ginger sighed.

"I'm sure he will be. He's the Doctor, after all," her husband replied, giving her a soft squeeze. And with a few smiles, the happy couple was off to shop 'til they dropped on their suspicious extended honeymoon, soon forgetting about the quirky behaviour of that crazy Madman in a Box.

He had first received the message almost two weeks ago.

It wasn't very often anymore that he got anything off of his psychic paper. So, when he'd realised he'd received a call, the Doctor was a bit surprised. After all, there weren't many beings strong enough to send a telepathic message across time and space.

The memo left for him didn't help to solve the mystery- in fact, it was such a jumbled mess of circles and numbers and other crazy stuff that the man assumed the psychic paper had malfunctioned.

But just two days later, the same squiggles and somehow equations and spheres appeared again. And again, the alien tried to work out what was being said. But even the inventory of five billion languages in his head couldn't figure out what was going on.

So again and again the unintelligible writing revealed itself. It had only been yesterday that the Doctor had been thinking to just throw the damn thing away. But somehow, as he looked at the message, he could sense the plea that had reached out to meet him. Help me. Please.

And so, using the TARDIS to track where the call was coming from (which he should've done in the first place anyways) he traced the signal back to Melaxon III. So he made his glorious Ponds come with him, dropping them off to shop... Of course, he hadn't actually been planning another honeymoon trip for them. He had come to see who his mysterious caller was.

The Time Lord soon found himself in what he believed was a maintenance corridor, hardly somewhere most buyers would go. But something, somewhere was nagging at his mind. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the plea. Help me. Help me please.

He walked down many more corridors, following the sensation in his mind that was gradually getting louder, a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time, since his planet had burned by his own hands-

They were dead though. All of them. It couldn't be-

The man stopped at a door to his right. It had to be coming from here. It was so loud now, he felt like his brain would burst if it got any louder. Slowly, afraid of what he might find, he turned the doorknob and looked inside.

At first, it seemed like nothing was there, and maybe the alien had gotten the wrong place after all.

Until he heard the quiet sobs.

And there in the corner of the small space the Doctor was able to make out the outline of a little girl, her blue eyes wet with fresh tears. The pathetic creature was curled in on herself, he red hair stuck in knots, her knees pulled up to her chest.

Suddenly, the girl lifted her head up, and stared at the newcomer. Even fresher tears appeared in her eyes, and her lips moved, and words came out in a language the Time Lord couldn't understand.

But as she spoke again, her pleading form staring at him, the man's own eyes widened as he realised that yes, he could understand what this little girl was saying.

"Help me, please. Please, are you to one who's come to rescue me? Help me."

The language she was speaking- he hadn't heard it in years, since Gallifrey fell… His eyes threatened to overflow with tears too, her attempt at a telepathic link to him echoing in his skull.

For she was speaking Gallifreyan.

The lost language of the Time Lords.


I really shouldn't be starting to write another story when I already have so much going, but here this is. I hope you all like it, and please let me know if you actually do by leaving a review! Thanks to all who read this story!