Thanks for the reviews!
I've got some fun news for this chapter. Things didn't work out exactly how I originally planned, so Rory's actually going to show up soon. How soon? Now! Well, not right this very second, but in this chapter.
A hand, hopefully a human hand, slapped the Doctor across the face. The same hand then started groping him. It grabbed at his chest—he thanked his lucky stars this regeneration wasn't a girl—found nothing to hang onto, and then went creeping along his arm. By this point, he was relatively certain the hand was human, and that it was intent on finding a specific part of his body. He wasn't sure what particular body part that was, and he felt it would be a traumatizing experience for both himself and the owner of the hand if the hand were to grab the wrong bit. He decided to give the hand a little help, and clicked the sonic screwdriver back on.
The second the green glow returned, the screwdriver was yanked out of his hand by a furious Amy Pond. She raised her free hand, intending to slap the Doctor again, and he cowered in response. His cheek was still smarting from the first blow, and at that moment, the expression on Amy's face made a weeping angel's snarl look inviting.
Amy's open palm quivered and the Doctor thought, despite his repentant visage, she was going to hit him. Then Amy clenched her hand into a fist, and the Doctor thought he was going to be punched, which would probably hurt worse. He was immensely relieved when, instead of striking him, Amy dropped her hand down to her side.
"You should be ashamed of yourself!" Amy shouted. "You could have just killed us all!"
"But I had to know…" The Doctor instantly regretted defending himself.
"Then you should have given us a chance to get out! If you want to turn off the lights while you're surrounded by weeping angels, don't drag the rest of us into it! Look what you did to Bob and Eleanor!"
Eleanor had just realized the angels weren't going to tear her limb from limb, and had lifted her head. It was impossible to know what condition Bob was in, because his sister had covered him with her body. She apparently still loved her brother—even if he was a destructive little wanker—enough to serve as his human shield.
"Lemme up. I can't breathe!" Bob said, gasping.
"Sorry." Eleanor sat up and Bob crawled away from her. She'd practically tackled him, and had then served as the world's heaviest blanket, and now his head hurt again. He'd been able to forget about his injury up until that point, but the old headache was back.
"Doctor Bowtie, that was naff," Bob said.
"No, the hideous shoes Mum bought are naff. That was horrible. Absolutely bloody inexcusable," Eleanor said.
The Doctor felt lower than a worm. He had, with one incredibly stupid and impulsive move, managed to make everyone angry with him. There had to be some way to fix this.
"I can make it up to you," the Doctor promised.
"Are you going to let me play with that brilliant screwdriver?" Bob asked.
"Even better! I'm going to show you my spaceship. Which also travels in time. And has a swimming pool."
Bob had died and gone to heaven. He wasn't sure how long he'd been dead, or what had killed him, but there was no way anyone on Earth would ever speak those words to him. It was like every good dream he'd ever had, plus Han Solo offering him a tour of the Millennium Falcon.
"I love you," Bob said, adoration shining in his eyes.
"Oh, yes, well, that's very nice, Bob. I'm glad we've patched things up so quickly," the Doctor said.
"Do you really mean it? I believe you're an alien—and I know those angels aren't from Earth—but you aren't going to…probe us or something?" Eleanor asked.
"I've never probed anyone. Not intentionally, at least. There was that one time, but I swear I didn't know what that button was for or what sort of hobbies they had on that planet."
"I'm glad I wasn't on that adventure," Amy muttered. Eleanor and Bob might have melted at the word "spaceship" but Amy didn't intend to let the Doctor get off that easily. She planned to stay cross at him for some time, until he realized how stupid he'd been. It wouldn't change him, or make him less spontaneous, but he deserved to feel bad for terrifying his friends.
With Eleanor's probing fears dispelled, she was more than willing to see the Doctor's spaceship. Bob shifted with a restlessness that suggested his feet were being held to hot coals, so the Doctor decided it was time to get to the TARDIS. Since Amy had kidnapped the sonic screwdriver, their sole source of light, the Doctor prodded her to head towards the door. Amy marched forward, eager to escape the gloomy confines of the church.
Once they were outside, the Doctor confiscated his screwdriver and used it to lock the church doors. The moonless night was dark enough to require further use of the sonic screwdriver as a torch, and the Doctor held it aloft while everyone else crowded around its circle of green light. Green, in Bob's opinion, wasn't a particularly good color for a torch to glow. It made everyone look like a zombie, radioactive, or about to vomit.
"This time, I'm going to drive. Eleanor, the keys." The Doctor held out his hand and Eleanor dropped the keys into his palm.
Nobody had to sit in the back this time—they'd almost surely be ejected and killed by the Doctor's driving skills if they did—though that did leave them all uncomfortably squeezed. Eleanor and Bob were sandwiched in the middle, the Doctor could barely move his arms to steer, and Amy felt like every contour of the door was being permanently imbedded in her side. The Doctor wasted no time pushing the truck to speeds that were legal nowhere. If everyone was too terrified to do anything except scream, they wouldn't be able to complain about the cramped conditions.
The Doctor misjudged his passengers. Amy was used to being flung about at high speeds—she'd been travelling the universe with the Doctor long enough to know his driving habits—and Bob and Eleanor found breaking the speed limit exhilarating. Even if they couldn't properly inflate their lungs, they could still grin.
"Geronimo!" the Doctor shouted.
Bob and Eleanor echoed the Doctor. Amy couldn't help herself; no matter how much she wanted to disapprove of the Doctor treating other people's vehicles like his TARDIS, she added her own excited cry. There was no denying the rush that accompanied the Doctor's mad piloting skills.
All too soon, the thrilling portion of the ride was over. The Doctor slowed down and squinted out the windscreen as though he was new to the area, completely lost, and looking for a street marker.
"There it is!" Amy said suddenly, pointing at a house.
"Why are we here? Oh, I get it! You've disguised your ship so it won't look suspicious. Let me guess. It's that car. No, it's that tree. Wait, it's got to be that dustbin!" Bob said.
"A dustbin? Really, Bob? You think I can't do any better than a dustbin?" the Doctor asked.
"So it's the car?"
"It's none of the above. Everyone out."
Amy and the Doctor exited, and Eleanor and Bob groaned with relief. They were no longer being crushed like an anaconda's victim, and it was lovely to be able to draw a full breath without feeling an elbow jabbing them in the ribs.
The sonic screwdriver was brought out again. Once it was lit, everyone crowded around the Doctor and his buzzing green torch. He shepherded them towards the house, and led them around to the garden.
"There she is, my sexy blue box," the Doctor said, motioning to a small structure Bob had mistaken for a shed.
"It's a…police box?" Eleanor asked as the form of the TARDIS became clearer. "Isn't that a bit conspicuous, though? I mean, when was the last time you saw a police box sitting in the garden?"
"When was the last time you saw a police box anywhere?" Bob added.
"Oi! Don't be rude," the Doctor scolded.
"But—"
"No more questions, just get in." The Doctor unlocked the doors and walked in. Amy followed. Bob and Eleanor exchanged confused looks. Could four people even fit inside a box so small?
They'd never find out if they stood outside, so the pair of them entered together. The moment they stepped through the threshold, Eleanor and Bob were completely overwhelmed. Eleanor was so stunned she found herself unable to stand and had to rely on her brother for support. He, being the dutiful younger brother, failed to catch her and she fell on her backside.
"As I always say, it's bigger on the—"
"Where have you been? It's been eight hours! Eight! I thought you'd either died or run off together and left me alone!"
"Rory! You ruined it." The Doctor turned to face the shouting man who was rapidly approaching and growing increasingly loud.
"Ruined what? Who are these people? Doctor, what have you been up to?" Rory demanded.
"Up to? Me? Nothing."
"Oh my God, what happened to your hair? And your shirt? Is that blood?"
"Rory—"
"You've put my wife in danger again, haven't you? Amy, tell me what happened."
The Doctor turned to Amy and pressed a finger to his lips. She glared; did he think she was stupid? She knew if Rory learned his wife had spent all day battling one of the universe's deadliest creatures, he would probably rupture something in his brain.
"It was nothing," Amy said, trying to dismiss the issue entirely.
"Nothing took his shirt, hacked off his hair, and invited those two, whoever they are, onto the TARDIS?" Rory wasn't so thick that he couldn't tell when Amy was being purposely evasive.
"Alright, it was just a wee bit of trouble. Nothing serious."
The Doctor interjected, "and those two are Brilliant Bob and Extraordinary Eleanor."
Bob and Eleanor waved. Rory, as confused and exasperated as he was, returned the gesture.
The Doctor saw an opportunity to get himself out of trouble and put off the row with Rory he knew was coming. He scurried back to Bob and took the boy by the hand. He led him up to Rory, and pointed at Bob's head.
"He hit his head a few hours ago. Fix it," the Doctor said.
"Why didn't you take him to the hospital a few hours ago, then?" Rory asked.
"Because I was busy."
"That's an awful excuse."
"There were extenuating circumstances. Things and stuff like that."
"He could have died from a fractured skull."
"That's what I said to Amy. I told her to get Bob and run but she was wouldn't listen. She's a stubborn Pond."
"But what would she have to run from? Was something chasing you?"
"No! It already had me by the neck and…ooh, I did not mean to say that." The Doctor winced at his uncontrollable gob.
Things might have turned quite nasty if Bob hadn't displayed a latent talent for acting. He clutched his head, moaned, and swayed on his feet. Rory's medical training kicked in and he grabbed Bob before he could collapse. As Rory fussed, Bob looked over at the Doctor and mouthed "you owe me". The Doctor flashed him an appreciative thumbs-up.
"Don't worry, Bob, you'll be just fine. I'm a nurse, and I've got the documentation to prove it. Unlike some people," Rory said.
"I have never claimed to be a nurse. A patient, yeah, loads of times, but never a nurse."
Rory led Bob to the TARDIS' medical bay. Bob, live an invalid, leaned on Rory for support he didn't really need. Their proximity gave Bob the opportunity to notice something strange about Rory. His fingertips were blue.
"What happened to your hand? Did you freeze it or something?" Bob asked.
Rory looked down at his own hand. "No, I ate some alien fruit. Turned me bright blue. I spent all day coughing up blue slime, and now I'm nearly cured. It's lingering in my fingers and toes, though."
"Do you have any left?"
"The alien fruit? No. Why?"
"I want to look like a Na'vi."
The Doctor had definitely brought a teenage maniac aboard, not that Rory was surprised. Bob and the Doctor probably got on like best friends.
With Rory properly distracted and Bob in good, albeit blue-tinged, hands, the Doctor was able to get down to business. He hopped over to the central control panel and began to press buttons. Things got interesting on the TARDIS when the Doctor's fingers got busy.
"Quick, grab onto something!" Amy cried.
"It's going to be a smooth landing, Pond. We're only going a few streets over," the Doctor said.
"We're going to end up on the moon. Definitely hold onto something," Amy said to Eleanor.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. He'd been driving the TARDIS for hundreds of years. Nobody was better at it than him. River Song liked to pretend she knew what she was doing, but there was no competing with the Doctor. Confidently, the Doctor pulled a lever and the sentient ship lurched forward.
"Where are going?" Amy asked.
"To get George."
"Why?"
"Because he's injured enough to keep Rory busy for ages. And because it's the right thing to do. And because I need to fix his plumbing before his house floods. Now let's hope we don't materialize in the closet."
The TARDIS made her usual whooshing noise—a brilliant noise, no matter what River said—and landed with a gentle bump. As far as landings went, Amy rated this one in the top three. Nobody was thrown across the room, nobody fell down the stairs, and nothing started sparking or caught on fire.
The Doctor ran across the control room and to the doors. He threw them open and came face to face with a wall. There was enough room between the wall and the doors for him to squeeze through. He did just that and discovered he'd managed to land the TARDIS in the middle of George's living room. It may have crushed the coffee table, but at least it had missed George by a fair amount. The screaming George was doing suggested he had other opinions.
"Hello, George, I've come to collect you," the Doctor said.
"Ahh!"
"Yes, I heard. Now hobble into my ship so we can go."
"Ahh!"
"Come on, it wasn't that close."
The screaming abruptly stopped as George swooned and fell back against the couch in a dead faint. The Doctor sighed and walked over to George's unconscious body. While George wasn't a particularly large man, he wasn't a feather, either. There was nothing to be done about it, either way. The Doctor grabbed George around the middle, heaved him off the couch, and dragged him into the TARDIS.
TBC!
On the off chance someone was living under a rock for the past two years, the Na'vi were the big, blue people from Avatar.