New Years' Eve, 1999, The Ritz Hotel, The Fifth Encounter

The party, it transpired, was really more of a banquet. Amy shuddered to think how much it would have cost these other guests...in the thousands, for sure. But not her! Not when the Doctor's involved.

Her and Rory were sat cheerfully together on a round, white-clothed table in the ballroom, two little dishes of caviar in front of them. They'd grown tired of dancing. But the Doctor, of course, had not. They were watching the him dancing, laughing hysterically as they watched him twirl and spin through the crowds. His arms were held high above his head, and his suit was all askew. He loved a dance. The other dancers (mostly couples, doing a polite, calm waltz) were swerving out of his way, some of them smiling, other tutting and rolling their eyes in disapproval. Most of them thought he was pie-eyed, or even high. No. The Doctor had stuck exclusively to lemonade this evening, and as Amy had foreseen, he had quickly become hyperactive, the way a little boy might get doubly silly after an overdose of sherbet.

Amy ate one of the little black eggs on the dish before her. She didn't much like them - nasty taste. But it was caviar! Served on an immaculate little glass dish, in the grandest room in the grandest hotel in London...no bloody way could she leave it, no matter how it tasted. Rory had already finished his - he'd gotten a taste for it.

"Reckon the food machine does caviar?" He asked Amy loudly - the music was rather loud.

"Probably," Amy shrugged. The food machine in the Tardis did basically anything. She continued to watch the dance floor, where the Eleventh Doctor was busy making a spectacular fool of himself. He was dominating the entire dance floor with his wacky dancing, and everyone was watching him, even the other dancers. Stick him in a clown suit, apply a little greasepaint to his face, and you'd have the archetype of a clown. Amy didn't know it of course, but his Sixth incarnation had been rather fond of ludicrously colourful clothes. And as she would come to learn in later years, his Thirtieth incarnation liked to wear jester's shoes. If Eleven was wearing a mashup of those two outfits, he'd have looked perfect - the crazy clown at a kids party, dancing like his pants were on fire.

Unfortunately, however, the laughs were short-lived. Amy and Rory gasped in horror as one of the Doctor's flailing arms caught a porky gentleman squarely on the mouth. The man let go of his wife instantly (he'd been waltzing with her), and clutched his mouth. The Doctor stopped dancing and grinned nervously, muttering an apology. The man snarled and advanced on the Doctor menacingly. Amy and Rory leapt up from the table and rushed over, barelling dancers aside to reach the Doctor.

"Now, Gerald!" The man's wife was saying sternly. "I'm sure the young man didn't mean to hit you. Come on, now! Don't be angry."

But Gerald was angry. He continued to walk towards the Doctor, who backed away anxiously.

"Haha...lovely bow-tie, sir!" The Doctor said desparatley. Gerald was indeed wearing a bow-tie. Amy hadn't noticed 'til then. The man's fifth chin obscured it somewhat. "Come on, you wouldn't hit a fellow bow-tie enthusiast!"

"Gerald!" The man's wife barked, hands on hips.

Gerald finally stopped. He rounded on Rory. "Is your friend inebriated, boy?" He demanded.

"No, no," Rory said, "hyper. Too much lemonade."

"Ah," Gerald said, and took the Doctor's shoulder firmly. The Doctor gulped. "Now look," Gerald said, firmly but reasonably, "I don't quite know what your game is, son. But your making a nuisance and an embarrassment of yourself. I'd like you to leave the dance floor, and not come back. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Rory said at once, taking the Doctor by the shoulders and walking him back to the table.

With the Doctor safely out of the way, Amy smiled apologetically at the fat man. Fat Gerald, if you like. Seemed fitting. "Sorry, f...Gerald. Have a nice evening."

"You too," Gerald said, smiling slightly. "I don't envy you, having to deal with him."

"No," Amy laughed, and turned to leave. Gerald went back to his wife. Amy pushed past a couple of dancers to get off the dance floor, but suddenly a hand touched her wrist lightly. Surprised, Amy turned around. A young man was standing next to her, smiling politely. Amy looked him up and down quickly - what a striking man. White suit, gleaming white shoes, and a shaved head. He had a goatee beard, and a handsome, reasonable face.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked Amy, bowing courteously.

Amy shook her head. "Sorry. Married." She laughed apologetically.

"Ah...would the lucky man begrudge you one dance? Just a dance?"

"No, really..." Amy said - she would have danced with this man. He was polite, attentive and handsome. But she had Rory. She would never look at another man that way as long as she had him.

The man withdrew his hand and shrugged, smiling. "Ah, well...as you wish. Enjoy your evening just the same."

"Thanks, and you." Amy said, turning away, blushing in spite of herself. Behind her, Tomasz Wrench growled. He was depending on his good looks and natural charm to do the job - get close to the woman, get close to him. Then kill them. All three of them. Disappointing. Nonetheless, it changed nothing. He violently slammed a couple out of the way, and walked back over to the bar, ordering himself another drink. Ah, well. Ah, well indeed. Onto Plan B...

"I liked him," Amy said, "he seemed so nice. A proper gentleman. So suave!"

"Smarmy, I think the word is." Jack scoffed.

"Pot. Kettle Black." Mickey whispered to Martha, who giggled.

"Yes, indeed." Ian said. "He could charm the birds off the trees. He made himself the King of Sabb-Landon Xavier 1, didn't he? They loved him so much that they obeyed his every word. They even came to Earth with him!"

"True enough," Clara said. "Go on, Amy..."

The dancing finally ended, about an hour after the Doctor was escorted from the dance floor. No sooner had the last couple sat down, dinner was served. Out it came, massive great platters of fine food, hidden under silver lids, carried by waiters and waitresses who held the plates at shoulder-level on one hand. The Doctor's lemonade hit was thankfully over, and he was now back to his usual self. Which in truth, wasn't so very different.

"Wowzer!" He exclaimed as a waitress placed a plate in the middle of his and the Pond's table. The waitress glared at him. She served expensive food to very rich people. Most of them said "thank-you" in perfectly clipped English. Never "thanks", or "cheers love,". And certainly never "wowzer." That was a first.

The waitress lifted the lid and walked off without a word. They had a turkey. A whole turkey, and vegetables. Half of it was already sliced, still hanging loosely from the main carcass. No doubt another waitress or waiter would be along to slice more later, should they so desire.

The three of them hurriedly filled their plates. "Well...happy new year!" Amy said, raising her glass. They clinked glasses and drank.

"Happy new year yourself, Pond." The Doctor said, beaming and looking around the big, grand room. He gave Gerald, who was sitting four tables away, a little wave. The man scoffed and shook his head in disbelief, though Amy was relieved to see that he was smiling. "Wanna go see New Year's Eve of 2999 after this? It's even better!"

"Yeah," Amy said brightly. Rory only nodded. His mouth was full of turkey.

Amy sighed contently and ate. This was the life! Other worlds and alien civilizations were all well and good, but she loved these occasions, where they just...well, took a breather. Chilled out, and did something genuinely nice. For the next twenty-five minutes, everything was perfect. They sat, they ate and they chatted. It was a wonderful evening.

Then the waiter came by, with a trolley of drinks.

"More champagne, ma'am?" Asked a polite, silky voice. A familiar one. Amy looked up, startled. It was the same man from before. The guy who asked her for a dance! He was dressed in a waiter's outfit now. It was a little small for him. It wasn't his. The owner of that outfit was now dead.

"Thanks," Amy said, allowing him to pour her drink. "I've seen you before, haven't I?"

"Indeed you have," Tomasz Wrench replied, smiling gently. "Yes, indeed. I...I'd be grateful if you didn't mention that. My shift hadn't started, so I thought I'd have a bit of a dance..."

"Can't say fairer than that," Amy laughed. "Thanks for the wine."

"Your very welcome," Tomasz replied, filling Rory's glass. Rory muttered his thanks, and Wrench moved round to the third guest at the table - the Doctor himself.

"More to drink, sir?" Wrench asked quietly.

"Lemo-"

"Water." Amy and Rory said firmly.

"Oh, all right...some water please."

"But of course," Tomasz replied. His act was good - aside from the poor fitting clothes, he looked and sounded exactly as a waiter would. He grabbed a tumbler of water from his trolley and, leaning over the Doctor from behind, poured it for him. The Doctor grunted, a bewildered look suddenly appearing on his face. Tomasz Wrench finished pouring the Doctor's drink and straightened up with a smile.

"Enjoy your evening," he said smoothly, and walked away. He left the trolley of drinks where it was.

"Oh, he's left his trolley." Amy muttered. "Hey...waiter guy! Hey!"

But Tomasz Wrench didn't look round. He continued to walk away, heading for the exit.

"Amy..." Rory said stiffly, staring at the Doctor.

"Yeah? What?"

But Rory ignored her. "Doctor?" He muttered, a horrified look appearing on his face. "Doctor, what is it?"

Amy too stared at the Doctor. His face was pale, and contorted with confusion and pain. He coughed. And a trickle of blood erupted from his mouth as he did so.

"Doctor!" The two spouses screamed, leaping from their seats. The Doctor slumped forwards onto the table, his face crashing into his half-eaten dinner. The back of his jacket was torn open high on his back, between his shoulder blades. A fountain of blood was pouring from the tear. The tear that Tomasz Wrench had made, when he plunged a knife into the Doctor's back, whilst he was pouring a glass of water with his free hand.

"Help!" Rory said, an astonishing calm coming over him. He was a nurse, after all. He didn't panic. Couldn't. "Help!" Rory said again. Several nearby diners looked round, wondering what on Earth was happening.

The Doctor groaned, and fell backwards out of his seat. The carpeted floor on which he lay was turning a shade of red beneath him, soaking up his freely running blood.

"Someone call an ambulance!" Amy screamed, sharing none of her husband's calmness. Rory, with one swift movement, grabbed the tablecloth and yanked it clean off the table. Food, drinks and cutlery flew everywhere. The diners were all on their feet now. Some, Gerald among them, rushed over to Rory's side at once, desperate to be some sort of help. Rory was bent over the Doctor. "Stay calm," he said. His hand was underneath the Doctor, wrapped in the tablecloth. Putting pressure on the wound, hoping to stem the bleeding.

"Like my wife says," Rory barked. "Get an ambulance."

"I'm on it," Gerald said, rushing off at once. Oh for the days when everyone would be carrying a mobile phone...

Then, quite suddenly, Amy saw him. The man from before. The waiter. He slipped quietly from the room. As he left, he shot Amy an evil smile...

"Poor me..." The Thirtieth Doctor exclaimed, as Amy paused again for a moment. Everyone chuckled, without any real humour.

"Yeah," Amy said. She rounded on Rory. "You were brilliant." she said, her eyes burning with tears. She was so proud of her husband, and what he did for work. She didn't tell him that nearly as much as she ought to. "You saved his life!"

Rory shrugged, his eyes briefly locking with the Doctor's. "Just doing m'job." He mumbled.

"Yeah," Amy said, "and whilst you were doing that...I did something really quite daft."

Rory nodded. "You went after him, didn't you?" He didn't need to remember the events to know that. This was Amy, after all. Of course she went after him.

"Yeah..." Amy said solemnly, "I went after him...I shouldn't have. But I was just so angry! I didn't want him to get away."

"He didn't," Clara said firmly. "And she won't. What did you see, Amy? When you followed him?"

Amy took a deep, shaky breath. "One of the most horrible things I've ever seen in my life..."