Sorry I'm a little late with this one! I've been on vacation and was toying with another chapter idea that I ended up abandoning. Enjoy!


As a result of some rather unfortunate haggling over a bill, the Doctor and Amy found themselves ensconced in an empty walk-in refrigerator at the back of a restaurant on Earth 6.

"Don't worry," the Doctor said, "Rory will get us out."

"I'm not worried," Amy lied, her breath frosting out in front of her. But really, she was sure Rory was coming. Rory always came. Even if today it was taking him a little bit longer than it should to get the job done.

On the plus side, no one seemed to be in any hurry to kill them.

And so they waited, wrapped up in a surprising number of mittens, lightweight blankets, and scarves the Doctor had pulled out of his pockets. For a while they played solitaire with a single pack of cards they found. For a while they told knock knock jokes. They had a jumping jack contest, mainly for warmth. Then they threw pebbles at a circle they scratched out in the floor, one point each for whoever made it into the circle. When they reached 5000, they quit even that.

"What day is it?" the Doctor asked suddenly.

Amy thought for a minute. "Tuesday, I think. Not really sure, we had that weird repeating day thing last week where we looped back about four times so technically it could be -"

He groaned. "No. It's definitely a Tuesday."

Tuesdays were never his favorite, he explained. The big events of the universe did not happen on Tuesdays. Tuesdays were for rained out baseball games and missed connections and shuttles that suddenly broke a crucial part and left one stranded in the world's dullest space port for 12 hours straight. Tuesdays were when you lost your favorite book right before you finished it and your engines malfunctioned and your tea got overboiled. Tuesdays, he finished dramatically, were rubbish.


A few hours later, after Rory effected a heroic rescue involving an acetylene torch, after they all were back on board and settled down, the Doctor turned his thoughts to River. They hadn't had a visit in a few weeks, and he was suddenly filled with the urge to see her devilish grin. Yes, a late night tete-a-tete with River was just what he needed.

He waited until Rory and Amy were tucked off to sleep and then dressed up carefully - a fresh, new tweed coat, a bow tie in what he thought of as a highly seductive aubergine. He even tucked a carnation in his lapel. Then he hit a few buttons on the dial, picked a random date in the next month, and dropped into the storm cage.

Where he was met not with the curly locks of his beloved wife but by the sight of a male guard, gazing fixedly at a point on the wall of her cell, mumbling happily to himself, his eyes glassy. A red lip print on his cheek made clear what had occurred. Psychic lipstick. River was off, heavens knows where, on an adventure of her own.

The Doctor pouted. What was the use of having a wife in prison if one couldn't even be assured of finding her there when she was needed? He plopped down on the bed to wait.

He was not good at waiting.

Two hours later, after replaying the dialog from every episode of Speed Racer in his head, reading the Z section of his pocket copy of the Oxford English Dictionary, and proving three unprovable geometrical theorems on a napkin, he gave up. On his way out he shook the guard awake. He blinked and looked around in confusion.

"Where am I?" he asked the Doctor.

"In a cell," the Doctor snapped. "Don't worry, she'll be back shortly."

He started to enter the TARDIS but then leaned back out.

"What day is it here?" the Doctor asked the guard.

"Tuesday, I think," the young man said, clearly perplexed.

"Of course it is," the Doctor muttered. "Nothing good happens on a Tuesday."


.

"And what did you do last night, hmmm?" Amy purred the next morning.

The Doctor blinked. How did she always know? "Nothing! Nothing at all."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so, Doctor. You've got on your super special purple bow tie. " She produced a wide cheshire grin. "And we all know what that means."

Cursing under his breath the Doctor ripped the bow tie from his neck and crumbled it in his pocket. "I don't know what you mean," he said, staring determinedly at the console.

"Amy," Rory said, "if the man doesn't want to tell us he had a date with our daughter last night, I for one am perfectly okay with that."

"Oh, fine," Amy said, "You're right. But you do look like something the cat dragged in. Did you sleep at all?"

"Fine! I went to see River." He sighed dramatically. "She wasn't there. One of the guards was in her cell all hypnotized and staring at the wall. She must've run off for some artifact or something." He dug a more everyday bow tie out of his other pocket and started tying it on.

"So," Rory said, patting him on the shoulder consolingly, "where to today?"

The Doctor brightened. "I was thinking we'd stop by the space flight museum on Asteroid Brilexi in the Vegan system. They've got a couple of engines I want to take a peek at." He bounded over to the controls and flipped a few switches, sending them into flight. "And they've got the greatest collection of early writing systems from across the galaxy. You'll love it!"

Amy and Rory exchanged dubious looks, but within moments, they were out of the TARDIS and standing in front of a large, glowing white building. The Doctor all but dragged them up to the front door and prepared to open it with a flourish – only to find it locked.

"What?" he cried. "The space flight museum is never closed!"

Rory leaned in to read a small plaque next to the door. "It says it's closed on Tuesday," he announced.

The Doctor banged his head on the glass.

"I hate Tuesdays," he announced. "No more trips on Tuesdays, ever. Monday, sure, Wednesday, fine. Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday? Bob's your uncle. But no more Tuesdays, ever."

"New rule?" Amy asked.

"Absolutely."