Chapter 25

Lima, Peru

June 2009

After a few hours of work, Doris called the Doctor and her husband to dinner, insisting that they leave the work for the morning. Sam had been sent to rest a few hours earlier and, knowing that the Scottish woman was not the kind to be denied, the Doctor stood for a stretch and then told Doris and the Brigadier that he was going to get Glad and Sam. Walking into the TARDIS, the Gallifreyan made his way towards Rose's room, wanting to at least check whether or not Sam felt well enough to come to dinner. Knocking gently on the door, he called Sam's name before letting himself in. "How are you feeling?" he questioned with genuine concern.

The leaper opened his eyes. "Better. I'm just glad to be back here and not in the hospital. I actually feel somewhat rested now." He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What's going on?"

"Doris has called us to dinner. Do you feel up to joining us? If not, I could bring something in."

"No. I think I actually should try to get back into normal activities again. Somehow that feels right."

"You sure?" the Time Lord questioned. Gaining an affirmative response, he nodded. "Right, then. Best collect Glad. You know she won't want to miss out." He started out of the room.

Sam caught up with him, careful with how he held himself. "I'll go with you." At the Doctor's look, he shrugged. "I want to see what she chose to watch."

The Gallfireyan sighed slightly. "You could just ask her when you see her at table. Sounds to me like you want to try to prove your theory."

"Well... if the theory fits the facts..."

"What facts? There are no facts except that, as a friend, I want her to stay healthy. What is wrong with that? Do you not lecture Albert frequently about his cigar smoking?"

"That's different."

"Really? Seems a bit... paternal... to me."

"Well... you'd be wrong. Besides, Al's not the only one I've tried to warn about tobacco. Tried it with my father as well. Didn't work any better then."

A silence filled the space between them as they went through the TARDIS.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor finally offered genuinely. "It's hard losing a parent, especially from something as stupid as that. Anyway..." Taking a deep breath, he strolled to the theater and opened the door with a flourish. "Glad! Marvelous! Dinner's being place on the table right now..."

"This isn't real! It's just stupid!" she exclaimed at hearing the sound of her friend's voice, her eyes still on the screen.

"What's not real?" the Doctor questioned, looking at her and then at the screen. "Well, of course, it's not real. It's 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail.' Didn't expect you to pick that. It's a bit... unusual."

"Unusual? Unusual? It's all a lie!" She was just getting warmed up. "King Arthur was never like that. And who the bloody hell is Sir Robin?"

"Brave Sir Robin of Camelot." Feeling Glad's glare, he added, "He has... minstrels."

She got up and used the remote to go back to the start. "Look at this. They killed the poor old man simply because one person didn't want him anymore. We'd never do that." She moved the show along to later. "And these people... from what I can tell, they're farming dirt. Dirt! You can't farm dirt."

Sam had started laughing quietly. "She's right."

"But... that's the point!" the Doctor exclaimed. "That's what makes it comedic! It's funny! It's innovative! It's... not making you laugh," he trailed. "You think this is a documentary."

She stopped at that. "What's a documentary?"

Sam doubled over in laughter. He was having a hard time catching his breath and it hurt to laugh with his injuries. Still he couldn't help it.

Glad looked at him. "And why is Sam laughing?"

That's all it took. At this point, tears started coming from the leaper's eyes.

"You aren't helping," the Doctor berated, though a smile started to touch his lips. Swallowing, he turned to Glad. "Umm... the film you chose to watch isn't about reality. It's like... the King's Jester. It's strictly entertainment. No basis of reality in it. And it's not meant to be based on reality."

She considered what he said. "So they're not saying we threw farm animals in catapults?"

Sam had been trying to get a hold of himself and went into a whole new laughing fit at that. He cried out, "Please! Stop." It was hard to take him seriously when he was laughing so much.

For the Doctor, Glad's question was the straw that broke the camel's back. A guffaw escaped his lips, echoing Sam's laughter. Gaining control of himself temporarily, he assured her, "No. No, they know you didn't... catapult cows... or have killer rabbits." He slumped into the couch, unable to hold his laughter back further.

Glad looked at the two men laughing raucously. At first she frowned but, as they continued to laugh, she caught the infectiveness of the action and started to laugh as well.

"What in heaven's name is going on here?" a rather clipped British voice asked.

The Doctor tried to hold back his laughter long enough to answer. "Coconuts and swallows," he got out before he and Sam started into laughing again.

Glad looked up at the new arrival. She was laughing as well but managed, "Have you ever seen 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail?'"

"Not my kind of humor," Alistair answered with a raised eyebrow. "It's hardly likely to cause this sort of reaction even if it were."

Sam took a few deep breaths. Finally able to speak again, he said, "Yes. But she thought it was a documentary."

"She thought that we thought that they catapulted farm animals," the Doctor added, shaking from suppressed laughter.

"Very amusing," the Brigadier commented dryly. "Meanwhile, dinner is growing cold. Doris is not amused."

Sam, with a few more small giggles, wiped the tears from his eyes. "Right. Sorry. I'm sure that whatever Doris fixed is wonderful. What's she serving?" he asked.

Alistair nodded approvingly at Sam's more reasoned attitude. "Duck à l'Orange. We're having coconut cream pie for dessert."

"Does she weigh as much as the duck?" the Time Lord questioned, sending another wave of laughter rippling through the room. Noting another glare from the Brigadier, the Gallifreyan pressed his lips together to halt his merriment. "Sorry," he stated. Standing, he took a couple of steps towards him. "Oh, by the way, Alistair... you don't happen to know where the Castle Aaarg is, do you?"

"Doctor..." the Brigadier growled towards the Time Lord.

The Gallifreyan started to laugh again. "Just one more. Did you..." He mimed the banging of the coconut halves together as seen in the film.

"Only if African swallows were involved," Sam said with a howl of renewed laughter.

The Doctor and Glad followed Sam's lead, the Time Lord actually falling on the floor, his legs in the air.

"Really! You'd think the three of you were... were... well, I for one am not going to let Doris' dinner go to waste."

"Y... you're right," the Doctor stated, finally calming enough to sit up and look up at his friend. "You're absolutely right. Completely childish of us. But... you've seen me worse."

"Not much," Alistair told him with a frown.

"We'll be there. Post haste, in fact. Just as soon as..." He swallowed back the smile. "No... I'm not going to say it."

"What?" Sam asked, getting his breath again.

"Just as soon as we... build a bridge... out of a witch?"

"Fair cop," Glad said with a giggle.

"Yeah," Sam said. He took a few more cleansing breaths. "Oh boy, I haven't laughed like that since I can't remember when." He paused. "And I probably shouldn't do it again for awhile."

"You know, that is a very intelligent diagnosis, Dr. Beckett," the Doctor complimented.

"Thank you." Sam answered back with a smile.

"Mutual admiration society or not, are you coming?" Alistair demanded.

"Yes! Yes. Yes, we're... we're coming right now." The Gallifreyan jumped to his feet. "Duck à l'Orange! My favorite!" Helping Glad up, he put his arm around her back and followed Alistair out the door, Sam trailing behind. "So... now that you know it's just all fun... do you think you like that kind of humor?"

Glad nodded. "Well, I'm still not sure I understand it, but that was fun."

"Well, you're not supposed to make sense of it. You're just supposed to enjoy it. In which case, I'd say it was a success, don't you?"

She bobbed her head back and forth. "I guess."

"Brilliant! In that case, I've got another film for you. 'Airplane!' You'd love it!"

Sam smiled. "I'll watch too. That's one of my favorites!" He quoted, "'Give me Hamm on Five, hold the Mayo.'"

Glad frowned at his words. "I don't get it."

Sam's mouth turned slightly down as he thought. "I guess you need to know the references."

"It loses its humor out of context," the Doctor explained as they approached the table. "Aw! Superb!" he complimented as he sat down.

Dinner was a huge success, thoroughly enjoyed as all around the table shared stories, most of them being told by the Doctor and Alistair, who would interrupt each other every time they talked about one of their shared adventures. After dinner, Glad gave a yawn and bid every one goodnight as she went upstairs to the room Doris had provided for her.

"Sam, Doctor... I've prepared rooms for you as well," Doris told them with a smile. "I insist that you sleep in our home and not in that Police Box, no matter how big on the inside Alistair tells me it is."

Sam smiled. "Thank you, Doris. I truly appreciate it but if you don't mind, I'd rather stay in the TARDIS. Not because of the room. The stairs, though. I think it would be better not to climb them."

"I agree with Sam," the Time Lord put in. "He's still recuperating from our excursion. He'll be fine alone in the TARDIS. She'll let me know if he needs anything."

"You talk of that box as if it's human." Doris complained.

"No. Not human. Just alive," he clarified. Going over to Sam, he helped him to his feet. "Need any help back?"

Sam gave a lite smile. "I think I'll be okay. I'm going back to bed though." He looked over to Doris. "That had to be the finest coconut cream pie I've ever had. You should enter it into a contest."

"I already have. Won first prize," she replied with a grin. "You be careful going back, then, Sam. Sweet dreams." She turned towards the other male guest. "And you, Doctor. Bed time for you. Don't go telling me you're fine. You look like you haven't slept in an age."

The Gallifreyan looked indignant. "I sleep."

"Don't believe him," Sam stated turning around to respond to the Doctor's proclamation. "He's one of the most sleep derived individuals I've even seen."

"That settles it, then," she stated firmly before going to the Doctor and grabbing his ear, pulling him with her.

"Ow ow ow! Doris!" he protested.

"You are going to bed and you're taking a sleeping draft," she commanded.

Alistair nodded. "Quite right, Doris. Quite right."

"Oi! I'm being ganged upon!" The alien escaped from her pull. "All right! I'll go to bed. I'll take your sleeping draft. Just remember not to give me anything I'm allergic to. And if I'm going to sleep anywhere, I prefer it to be as close to the TARDIS as possible."

"Doctor..." Doris started, her eyes starting to turn into slits.

"To be here in case Sam needs me," he continued. "If you don't want me to sleep in my own ship, then it will have to be on your couch."

The visibly older woman looked from one to the other. "I suppose you could take the couch then." She didn't look happy. "Let me just get you a pillow and blanket," she added. "You both wait here while I get them."

"But that's not really..." the Doctor started as she turned away and walked off, leaving the three men staring at her back. "Formidable woman you have for a wife, Alistair," he commented.

"Tell me about it," he replied, deciding to follow his wife. "Good night, Doctor. Sa... Ro..." Sighing with the frustration of still not knowing how to address the leaper, he merely said good night before exiting the room.

The Doctor and Sam walked into the living room. "Looks like a comfortable couch. It's wide anyways," the leaper commented.

Slumping on the couch, the Doctor huffed. "Nine hundred years old and she treats me as if I were ten!"

Sam looked at the Doctor. "You're really lucky, you know."

"Lucky? I'm old enough to be her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather! And I'm being sent to bed like a child who was caught with his hand in the biscuit tin!"

"Yeah. But you're that old and you have her and a lot of other people caring about you enough to treat you that way."

The Doctor gave a wry grin. "Well... as long as they don't insist on changing my clothes or having me take out my dentures, if I had any, every night. Speaking of which..." Shucking off his trainers, he then stood and removed his jacket. "Doris is the kind of woman who would undress me if I'm not ready for bed before she comes back."

Sam smiled. "Then it's good you're taking care of that before she gets back."

The Time Lord threw Sam a dirty look as he finished removing his dress shirt, leaving him in a red t-shirt and a pair of brown stripped trousers.

Several minutes later, Doris came in with a tray in one hand, two mugs perched on it, and a pillow and blanket tucked under her free arm. "Brought you a nightcap as well, Sam. Nothing like a mug of hot chocolate."

He smiled. "Thank you. I greatly appreciate it."

Watching Sam take his mug from her, she turned to the Gallifreyan. "Doctor?" she pressed gently.

The Doctor sighed slightly, standing and taking the mug offered him. "No doubt mine's been laced."

"Oh, stop being a child and drink up. I swear! Sometimes you are worse than Alistair."

That gained a slight grin from him and he took a generous sip from the mug. "It's excellent. Thank you, Doris."

The Scottish woman smiled gently. As the two men enjoyed their hot chocolate, she prepped the couch for the Doctor to use as a bed. Chiding them to finish all of their drinks, she told them to leave the empty mugs on the tray, which was placed on the coffee table, before wishing them both good night and leaving the room.

Sam continued to sip at his hot chocolate. "My mother used to fix us the best hot chocolate, especially on mornings when it was cold after we'd had to milk the cows."

"That sounds nice. Personally, I found no one makes hot chocolate like Doris. I practically lived on the stuff for a good month the last time I visited them in their home in England."

Sam began to yawn. The day's events were catching up to him once more. "I think I need to turn in." As he stood, he groaned. "I hurt everywhere and I do mean everywhere. I think I'll ask the TARDIS to show me where the ibuprofen is before I go to bed."

"Good idea. She should have some somewhere. A lot of my companions use that particular drug so go right ahead." He finished the hot chocolate quickly, putting the mug on the coffee table before leaning back on the couch. "And get some sleep. I promise I'll only wake you if I need to."

Sam smiled before making his way back through the TARDIS to his bedroom. The Doctor hardly noticed, his eyes already closed as he lay on the couch, uncovered. He knew that it was likely because Doris actually did lace the nightcap in his mug but he wasn't upset. After all, every time Doris was forced to do something like that towards him, it was usually for the best.