Episode: The Snakes of Sicily
Chapter: A Wedding Present for Mister Pond [1/6]
Summary: Rory Williams wanted to have his stag night in peace. Amy Pond wanted people to stop flirting with her fiancé. And the mothers wanted their children safe. The Master only wanted to forget. Or the one where the Ponds get their wedding present, the TARDIS refuses to behave, and things have a (sort of) happy ending for once.
Rating: T
"Heeeey! It's me. Hello. How are you?" Rory says into his phone, covering his free ear with his hand to try and mute the noise in the pub.
He knows he's not supposed to call, that he should just be enjoying himself with his friends and drinking and all that, but he just… He's so drunk on love—and maybe a beer more than he should have had at this point—that he can't not call.
After all, this is Amy Pond, only the most wonderful, beautiful, strong and courageous woman Rory has ever met.
Which is one of the reasons Amy assumed he was gay for most of his life. But seriously, with Amy as his best friend? How could he ever look at any other girl when there was Amy? There had always been Amy, and only Amy.
And now, it'll be only Amy for the rest of their lives.
Well, Amy and her answerphone, but Rory's too overjoyed to care about that. She'll hear the message in the morning, and after…
"The reason for this call is because I haven't told you for seven hours that I love you, which is a scandal, and even if we weren't getting married tomorrow, I'd ask you to marry me anyway," again, a part of his brain adds, while yet another one reminds him of the mess of nerves he'd been the first time around. "Yes, I would, because you are smashing," he says instead, pushing back that wonderful yet utterly embarrassing experience in favor of the now, because it worked.
Amy Pond and Rory Williams are getting married tomorrow, the twenty-sixth of June of 2010, and nothing could make this night, his stag night, or tomorrow go wrong.
He's about to tell Amy that, to tell her all the reasons she's amazing and how that means tomorrow is going to be the best day of their lives, when cheers erupt all around and he's turned around to see a giant pink cake being wheeled into the pub.
"Oh, blimey. I've—I've, er, got to go. I'll see you tomorrow," he tells Amy instead, and pockets his phone with a grin.
Just because he'll never look at another woman the way he looks at Amy doesn't mean Rory can't have fun tonight. He specifically asked his friends to not have a stripper, though, so he can't help but be curious too. Did they just ignore him and hire a stripper? … Well, he can mock their faces later. Did they actually listen and get him something else? If so, what is it?
"Out. Out. Out," the whole of the pub seems to chant in unison, and Rory feels his grin grow—
The top of the cake bursts with an explosion of color that makes Rory's eyes water and the pub falls completely silent.
Oh, no. It can't be.
"Nurse Boy! Been a while. Two years, give or take, isn't that right? And what did you do? Get engaged to Amelia Pond," the Raggedy Doctor chirps happily as he hops out of the cake, shark grin in place. "I'm afraid my invitation got lost in the mail. Ah, but what can you do? I'm here now, and that's all that counts!" he adds cheerfully, with a big grin that is not as threatening as the shark grin but it's still not that innocent either.
The reason Rory can't do more than stand there gaping, though, is not the Doctor's words, but his outfit. Or, to be more specific, his lack thereof. He's clad only in black boxers with bright red hearts printed all over them and the most outrageous coat Rory's ever had the displeasure of seeing, as if it had been caught in an explosion at a paint factory.
And that's it. No trousers or shirt or even shoes. Underwear and a coat, and nothing more.
If this is his friends' idea of a joke after the whole I don't want a stripper at my stag, Rory will have to—
No, who is he kidding? His friends could have never thought of having a mostly naked Raggedy Doctor jump out of the cake even if they had all banded together to think about it.
And Rory knows the Doctor, the actual Doctor, and this guy is most definitely him.
"And on the topic of weddings, I've got a message from your fiancée," the Doctor adds as he nonchalantly steps up to him, and Rory perks up, chalking the clothes thing to the Doctor's odd nature and focusing instead on his words—
The Doctor fists Rory's shirt, pulls him down, and kisses him.
Rory's brain fizzles and dies. It – That – What – How – Gah?
An eternity later, the Doctor pulls back, just a hairsbreadth away, and Rory finds himself leaning forward when he doesn't feel that cutting grin against his lips anymore, stopped only when his nose bumps into the Doctor's.
His eyes are really gold. No, green. No, gold. No—
"Come get your wedding present, Mister Pond."
The Doctor pulls away fully, hands leaving Rory's shirt as he turns around and walks to the door, and Rory stumbles on his own feet before he remembers how to walk, following in a daze—
"Your phone, Mister Saxon! And can I say, I love your getup. How did you do it?" a girl in an eyesore of a rainbow-colored suit that sits oddly on her, like it was made for a man instead, asks the Doctor as they get to the door, handing him what looks like a flip phone. "Oh, and your suit—"
"Keep it, Lucy. Was it Lucy? Yeah, just keep it, as thanks for the video. It isn't like I'll be using it, anyways. And the secret is to use just the necessary amount of makeup and keep in mind what it is that you want. Ta!"
When they step into the street and the cold slams into Rory is when his brain finally reboots.
"You kissed me!" he shrieks, voice too high pitched to be anything else, as he follows the bloody psycho alien away from the silent pub. "On my stag night! You kissed me!"
"That's what a kissogram does, isn't it? I thought it would be fitting to give Amy's message that way," the Doctor answers with an unrepentant grin as he stops in front of a blue phone box and takes a key out of the pocket of his dreadful coat.
Blue phone box—No, wait, it has 'police' written on it. This means that this isn't a phone box, but the time-traveling machine Amy told him about when they were kids.
Which is why Rory doesn't hesitate as he follows the crazy alien inside.
"You can't just—Whoa," he lets out as he finally looks around, the undecipherable mess of emotions coiling in his stomach vanishing as he takes in the sight.
The ship is impressive, bigger on the inside, but it is Amy who takes his breath away, standing on what looks like the control platform and dressed in a golden accented sky-blue tunic dress, like a Roman goddess from history books.
If Rory wasn't already engaged to her, he would ask her to marry him. Again. And again.
Unfortunately, there are more important things right now, like the crazy alien grabbing his arm and dragging him down a corridor on their lower level.
"Come on, Nurse Boy! Time to get changed. You won't want to be dressed like that where we're going, trust me," the Doctor explains simply as they leave the room, though he twists to shoot Amy a large grin over his shoulder. "By the way, Amelia, I approve of your job as a kissogram! It's really fun!"
Rory tries to protest, but the rush of blood to his face leaves him disorientated and stammering nonsense.
"What are you—Oh my God! Raggedy Man, did you kiss my fiancé?! Raggedy Man!" Amy shouts after them, but her voice gets lost as they go around the corner.
"Where are we going? And what was that kiss about?!" Rory asks, jerking his arm out of the Doctor's grip but following obediently, slightly intimidated at the sheer size of the ship.
Doesn't it end?
"We're going to the wardrobe, to get period-appropriate clothing. And the kiss was because I had a message to give, and I was curious about what would happen if I delivered it that way," the Doctor answers with a shrug, twisting to give Rory a shark grin over his shoulder as he takes a flip phone out of a pocket of his eyesore of a coat. "I'm definitely not disappointed. The faces should be hilarious. And the blackmail possibilities! Think about those!"
"You did not make a video of you kissing me!" Rory protests with dismay, and his jaw falls again as they finally enter the wardrobe.
Isles and isles of clothes from many time periods, half of them alien or futuristic, fill the large room, and it takes Rory a moment to locate the Doctor after he's done gawking at it all. This place is crazy. Amy never talked about it back when they were kids!
"Of course not. Lucy, the stripper, took it for me. Can you believe your so-called friends had her waiting in a bikini outside? Completely not fair to the poor girl, really," he huffs, stopping to carefully, almost lovingly, put his coat on a hanger and in a rack, next to a frock coat and what looks like a cricket suit, before resuming their walk. "Besides, I do recall you kissing back."
"I did not!"
"Did too."
"Did not!"
"Did too."
"… Are we seriously doing this?" Rory finally asks as he realizes the kind of argument they've devolved into, and the Doctor's next grin is sharp once more.
"If you want to, sure. Take your clothes off."
"What?!" Rory squeaks, chocking on his breath, before taking a step back and gesturing madly. "No, absolutely not! We are not—Alright, I'll admit it, I kissed back—"
"Nurse Boy—"
"—But can you fault me? It was a good kiss, a great one, and I kissed back, how couldn't I? But I'm getting married! In the morning! I can't—"
"Rory!" the Raggedy Doctor cuts, grinning like a loon yet still managing to grimace in disgust at the same time. "Seriously? Kissing is all in good fun, but anything else? That's just disgusting. Besides, humans don't have the necessary bits for that."
"… We don't?"
"Do you seriously want me to explain about Gallifreyan sex?"
"No, right, don't," Rory blurts out hurriedly as he realizes just what he was asking about—and remembers what started them down that road. "Why would you want me to take my clothes off for then?"
"I told you already! Period-appropriate clothing," the Doctor answers with an eyeroll, grabbing something maroon and a big off-white thing from a rack and handing them to him. "Put these on. Tunic first, toga on top, and wrap it over your left shoulder. They were very big on that stuff," he adds once Rory accepts the clothes, and, before he can wonder about that, the Doctor leaves for another section.
Does that mean I have to take my clothes off in the middle of the corridor?
"Ugh, Rory, focus," he tells himself, rubbing his face as if that would make his blush disappear.
The Doctor is an alien. Whatever he did in the pub must have been an alien thing. That's the only possible explanation, and the only one Rory will accept.
Aliens. Seriously.
Nevertheless, Rory looks down at the bundle of tunic and toga he's supposed to put on and, after locating a free perch for his current clothes, changes into it.
… Or, well, he tries to. The maroon tunic is easy enough to put on, simply sliding it over his head and wrapping a leather belt around his waist, but the toga is a mess. It has no up or down, and it's huge, and Rory ends up jumping and bundling it all in his arms when the Doctor pops up from nowhere to ask him if he's done.
"Don't scare me like that!"
"I just said 'ready', how is that scary?"
"I didn't know you were there! And, huh, no, I am not ready. I can't make sense of this thing," Rory confesses, knowing better than to try to lie to the Doctor.
The alien is bloody scary when he wants to, and capable of getting into people's heads. Two years haven't made Rory forget that, and his research has definitely not helped in that regard.
"They are notoriously difficult to put on, but it's law. Let me give you a hand," the Doctor answers calmly, and so Rory hands him the toga and waits patiently as the Doctor folds it back properly in preparation of wrapping Rory in it.
It's probably because he's just standing there doing nothing that Rory finally notices one tiny detail about the Raggedy Doctor that is not the same as two years ago.
His hair is the same pale blond shade and length, his smirk as sharp as ever, his eyes as strangely human-like as before. But as he observes all his meticulous yet simply-looking folding of the toga, Rory catches a glimpse of pink that has his nurse training reaching for the first aid kit he always keeps in his jacket's pocket.
Only, since he's not wearing his jacket now, this results in an awkward moment of Rory patting his sides and hips, which, of course, attracts the Doctor's attention.
"What are you doing? It isn't that cold in here, is it?" the Doctor asks, lifting an eyebrow, with the toga finally folded properly in his hands, which Rory tries very hard not to look at.
It isn't the toga that has Rory's attention this time, but the scar on the Doctor's right hand, over the thumb and index, and wrapping down his hand and forearm. There's a hint of another scar on what little Rory can see of the Doctor's chest under his own off-white tunic and the crimson edge of his toga, but that one is far paler and almost gone. If he hadn't been looking for it after seeing the one on his hand, Rory's sure he wouldn't have noticed the other.
But still, the point stands. Rory saw the Doctor naked for but a moment, back when the Atraxi came to Earth to capture Prisoner Zero, but he's far more familiar with his hands due to how many times he took Rory's phone, so he knows the Raggedy Doctor didn't have that scar two years ago.
How long has it been since then? Has it been two years for the Doctor too? And if so, why come back now? … It can't be because of the wedding, can it? There's no way Amy managed to send an invitation! They talked about this!
"No. No, it's not cold. Just, you know," Rory finally answers, settling for a shrug, and the Doctor gives him a 'humans are beneath me' look before shaking his head dismissively.
"No, I don't, and I couldn't be more grateful. How you manage with such inferior brains, I will never understand. Then again, roaches are quite the survivors, too," he muses almost to himself, and, no matter how much he wants to retort, Rory bites his tongue, knowing he'll just be giving him more ammunition if he protests against being compared to a cockroach. "Now, lift your arms and let me put this on you so we can go."
Rory does, and after one awkward moment of the Doctor walking around him throwing swathes of cloth this and that way and adjusting Rory's arms, the toga fits as perfectly and regally on Rory as it does the actors in the movies. So, the next step is to take a pair of Roman sandals each.
"Fortunately for you, these are not actual Roman togas, but souvenirs from Saturnyne. They're a mostly underwater race, so they made sure the fabric was light and adherent enough to keep its shape and stick together without actual fussing," the Doctor explains as he hands Rory a pair of plain brown sandals with covered toes, while he takes a pair of red ones for himself.
"Right. Thank you, I guess. But what is all this about? Me and Amy, here, in togas. Why?" Rory asks once he's managed to tie his sandals—easier said than done—and they finally leave the wardrobe.
"One, Amy is not wearing a toga, only a tunic. Togas were for prostitutes. And as for your question, I told you already. Humans, never paying attention," the Doctor scoffs, giving him a deadpan look, but just rolls his shoulders in a shrug as he finishes tying a pouch to his belt, under the toga. "It's your wedding present. Amy told me you're getting married in the morning. She showed me the dress and everything, said she wanted me there, but you know how etiquette goes. How am I going to show to a wedding without a present? And what do I have to offer?" he asks, obviously rhetorically, as he gestures at the corridor. "So, a trip! Amy has a lot of paraphernalia about the Roman Empire in her room, but she said you're honeymooning in Thailand instead. Something about the ruins not being romantic enough, or not well-cared for or whatever. But I don't have that problem. So, next stop, the Roman Empire!" he proclaims grandiosely as they finally enter the control room through the corridor on the level of the platform, even though Rory could've sworn they'd gone down through the lower one. "Any questions?"
"Did you or did you not kiss my fiancé?" Amy practically hisses, standing by the console with her hands on her hips and a frankly terrifying—and hot—scowl on her face.
"Yes, I did. You're a lucky girl, he's a great kisser. A bit slow on the uptake, but in his defense, I did surprise him," the Doctor answers shamelessly, moving to the controls to start shuffling things around, and Rory can only bury his red face in his hands with a whimper.
He's doomed. There he was, about to marry the most wonderful girl in the world, and now said most wonderful girl in the world—
Slap!
"Ow! What was that for?" the Doctor whines, jaw hanging open and a hand rubbing a spot of red on his arm, and Rory can only stare dumbfounded.
Did Amy just slap the Raggedy Doctor? The alien who destroyed a shapeshifter's brain and made a whole army run away with their tails between their legs, that Doctor?
"You are not allowed to go around kissing other people's fiancés! You don't even like humans!"
"I like messing with humans! Why is that so hard to understand?"
"Stay away from my fiancé, Raggedy Man!"
"Fine!" the Doctor huffs, throwing his hands up, and Amy leans back, arms crossed against her chest and triumphant smirk on her face. "See if I do anything nice for you again. Seriously, you try to give someone a present, and what do they do? Slap you!"
"Don't mess with someone's husband, then. Or husband-to-be," Amy sniffs proudly, looking down at the pouting Doctor, and Rory can only stare at them with wide eyes and his jaw halfway to the floor.
What just happened?
"Are you trying to catch flies there, Nurse Boy?" the Raggedy Doctor asks after a huff, grinning maliciously at Rory, who snaps his mouth shut more in surprise than in answer to the words. "I know, the TARDIS is magnificent, get it out of your system. You haven't seen anything yet."
"It's another dimension," Rory answers confidently as he carefully makes his way to their side, and, this time, the look he receives from the Doctor is of interest. "I did my research these past two years."
And the Raggedy Doctor grins.
"Aha! A hard-worker! I knew I liked you for a reason, Rory Williams," he chirps almost proudly, returning his attention to the console as if he wasn't at the end of Amy's glare and Rory's own worried look. "This one is a good catch, Amelia. He actually pays attention. Sometimes. Not much. Just enough. Alright, I take that back."
"Is he always this rude?" Rory asks before he can stop himself, more than a little insulted, but Amy is grinning widely.
"Only when he likes you. If he doesn't, he's downright insulting," she answers calmly, winking at him, and Rory deflates even as he rolls his eyes. "You get used to him, don't worry."
"I would hope not, Amy dear. Life would be boring if I couldn't surprise you anymore," the Raggedy Doctor chuckles as he moves away from the console. "I have to make some adjustments before our flight. Don't touch anything," he orders, deadly serious, before giving them a shark grin and hopping to the lower level to mess with some tools and panels.
"Of course, because the first thing I want to do in an alien spaceship is to start pressing buttons that'll leave me stranded in, say, Venus. Is he for real?" Rory huffs, still touchy after the rollercoaster that has become his life in the last twenty minutes.
Amy is as deadly serious as the Raggedy Doctor.
"I'm pretty sure he can't hear us now, so pay attention. First rule of traveling with the Doctor is to never call him Doctor. Use whatever name he gives you or call him Raggedy Man, but not Doctor. Understood?" she tells him hurriedly, and, too startled at the urgency in her voice, Rory just nods. "We need to remind him of how to be the Doctor, but we can't call him that. He's… Rory, he's so hurt," she adds, pain filling her expression, and Rory immediately puts his hands on her arms to support her, though he's unwilling to hug her yet, as it would break eye contact. "He's broken, and I don't really know everything, but don't ask about the past. He's the last of his kind, the last of the Time Lords. His planet was destroyed in an alien war, his whole family is dead and… I really don't know, but he blames himself for that, for his planet and the deaths of his family and his best friend. He keeps talking about other humans too, Rose, Martha and Donna, and about how he hurt them, which, I think, is why he's so overprotective of me. And you too, now, he wouldn't have taken you aboard if he wasn't going to take care of you. And, another rule, if he starts to lose his mind, remind him of Rule 6. Just that, Rule 6, it'll do the trick. He has an awful sense of humor, really twisted, but you'll notice when he breaks. It's impossible not to, it's when he looks about to set the whole world on fire," she adds, and Rory swallows as he remembers Prisoner Zero taunting the Doctor with little Amelia's voice, because that had been scary as Hell but he'd been in control, so what is the Doctor like when he actually breaks? "Last rule, never leave him alone, ever. He's… He's torn between doing the right thing and letting people get out of their messes on their own, which is what he should do, honestly. But the thing is, when he has to act it's because it's bad. And he gets hurt, he has almost died at times, so don't leave him alone."
Rory takes a deep breath, glances through the glass floor to see the Raggedy Doctor do something to some wires with a slightly bulkier and yellow-lighted version of the sonic screwdriver of two years ago, and swallows again.
"He didn't pick you up just before me, did he?"
Amy's eyes widen into a guilty look and Rory deflates.
"Done!" the Raggedy Doctor exclaims before he can ask her more about it, startling them out of their conversation almost obliviously as he hops back to the console. "Hang onto something."
The warning, as Rory discovers a moment later, is warranted.
Whether it's because of the machine or the pilot, Rory is still too afraid to trigger the alien's ire to ask.
"And here we are!" the Raggedy Doctor chirps as soon as the spaceship stops shaking, bouncing to the door, but Rory straightens carefully and doesn't release his death grip on the rails until Amy tugs on his tunic.
"Is it always this crazy?" he asks in a whisper as they step down to the door, and Amy answers with a sheepish smile. "We're doomed."
"Blame the TARDIS," the Doctor huffs, rolling his eyes, before grinning sharply and grabbing onto the door handle. "Now, esteemed guests, welcome to your destination! The capital of one of the greatest, if not the greatest, political and cultural powers of pre-spatial era human history, and the baseline for virtually every aspect of western culture, encompassing most of continental Europe, Britain, much of Western Asia, northern Africa and the Mediterranean islands. Currently under the glorious Pax Romana, a period of peace and prosperity never seen before, and celebrating the ascension to the throne of a certain Imperator Caesar Publius Aelius Traianus Hadrianus Augustus… Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the year 117 AD. Welcome… to Rome."
The door opens with his last words, and Rory realizes he was holding his breath in anticipation when Amy literally drags him outside in her excitement and he doesn't have the air to even squeak in protest.
He's blinded by the sun, far warmer than he had been expecting, and can only rub his eyes and blink for a moment before he's finally able to take a look around.
When he does, though…
"This is wrong," Rory comments, looking around with eyes wide as saucers, and hears a snort at his back.
"No, it's not. It's time travel," the Doctor huffs in amusement, still inside the TARDIS, hidden behind the unopened door.
"Raggedy Man, it is wrong," Amy protests before Rory can, scowling menacingly enough that, free now of her grasp, Rory takes a step away from her. "There's nothing here!"
"Say again?" the Doctor asks, finally popping his head out of the TARDIS, and, a moment later, stepping out fully with a grimace. "Ugh, she did it again!"
Rory's not sure what that's supposed to mean, but the one thing he knows is that, despite the Doctor's speech, this place is most definitely not Rome. It's just a forest of pine trees, with the chirping of crickets all around and dried grass growing on the ground. Seagulls caw all around and Rory can hear the rumbling of waves, which leads him to turn around and lean to the side to see a beach behind the TARDIS, with more land and forests across the sea. They're on a bay, maybe, or there's an island across from them, but the one thing Rory can't see, despite the beautiful blue sky, is boats. Or, truth be told, any kind of sign of human life.
"Huh, how far back have we gone? I may not be an expert, but I'm pretty sure Rome is not by the sea," Rory asks, interrupting whatever Amy and the Doctor are arguing about, and pointing at the island across from them.
"Good question," the Doctor mutters before sniffing a bit – and grinning widely. "Oh, this is almost as good! Come on, you two! We got displaced a bit, but I'm sure we can catch a ride to get to the main event," he tells them as he locks the TARDIS and starts to walk into the woods. "We went further back than I initially wanted, but you're going to love this one."
"Are we sure this is safe? We are not when we were supposed to be, or where, or what is around us—" Rory protests as he tries to catch up to Amy and the Doctor, tugging his toga out of a thorny bush and marveling at the fact it doesn't have even the tiniest rip. "This material is good."
"Good to know you're easily distracted," Amy huffs, her smile teasing and yet so beautiful that Rory's breath is taken away for a second at the sun falling on her through the boughs, lighting up her hair— "Still, my stupid fiancé has a point, Raggedy Man. When and where are we?"
"Someplace good, I'm telling you," the Doctor answers with an easy wave, guiding them out of the trees. "It's the year 750 BC, just three years after the founding of Rome, and we're—"
Donkeys bray, the Doctor jumps back with a curse, Amy shouts, Rory gasps, and someone else pulls on the reins with a booming halt!
A moment later, when nothing else happens, Rory blinks and takes the scene in.
The Doctor is all ruffled but trying to compose himself as he steps away from the startled couple of donkeys, standing up to Rory's chest and with their ears swiveling nervously as they shuffle back as much as the cart they are attached to lets them. Amy is grabbing onto Rory's arm tightly, but rushes to the Doctor's side when he starts to pat his robes down into position. Sitting at the front of the cart, a tan man with wavy long black hair and a bushy beard scowls down at them.
"Where did you fools come from? And strutting right into the middle of the path! I could've run you over," he berates them, gesturing with his only arm, and, while Amy bristles, the Doctor answers with a sheepish smile.
"Our sincerest apologies, my good man. We were too excited by the prospect of our destination to hear your approach. If you could give us some directions, we will bother you no more," he tells the stranger with a winning smile, straightening, and Rory can only think that he looks just like a politician.
No surprises there, really.
"Where could you three go to bear such cumbersome clothing? You are far indeed from any civilization, and you don't have any kind of transportation or pack. Not even a donkey," the Roman asks, giving them disgusted looks, and Rory feels self-conscious again, trying to adjust the toga discreetly and wishing that he could wear the far shorter and more comfortable-looking one their Roman 'friend' is wearing.
"Why, to Rome, of course!" the Doctor answers, completely unbothered by the unknown man's comment about their clothing or lack of transport.
The Roman turns to him and lifts an eyebrow with a deadpan look.
"Did you spend too long in the sun? There's nowhere called 'Rome' around these parts."
"Again!" Amy exclaims as the Doctor's face goes blank, turning to poke the alien with a scowl. "You got us to the wrong place again. Traveling with you is a bloody Odyssey."
"What did I get myself into?" Rory groans, dropping his face in his hands.
"Now, Amy, no need for that language. We just need to know where we are, and then we can go back to the ship and be on our way," the Doctor tries to placate with his politician voice, but Amy knows him well enough by now to huff and cross her arms.
"Ship! You came on a ship? Which polis do you hail from? And how did you make it past the monsters?" the Roman—not a Roman, though, apparently—exclaims, startled yet with his sharp dark eyes glued to the Doctor, not letting a single detail escape.
"Monsters?" the three of them repeat in surprise, confusion and dread, respectively.
"Yes, the sea monsters besieging the island. Fishing boats can still go out, but none who dare journey to the mainland ever make landfall. And you, whoever you are, are most definitely not from the island, barbarian or otherwise. No respectable man would dare dye his hair like a woman," the Roman scoffs, the solemn tone from the beginning turning to derision, and Rory startles for a moment, reining in on his nerves, to realize he's glaring at the Doctor.
"Dye? It's not dyed, he's just from the north," the Doctor comments as he points at Rory, and Amy huffs in laughter even as Rory rolls his eyes.
"I think he means your hair, blondie," Amy retorts with a grin, plucking at the Doctor's hair, and Rory can't help but chuckle too at the indignation on his face as the realization dawns.
"Me? I'm the man he was talking about? Oh, that's insulting. Why does everyone think that?"
"Have you seen yourself?" Amy asks playfully, but shakes her head to silence the Doctor when it looks like he'll start ranting. "Never mind your looks. Where are we?"
"You're on the island of Sicily," the not-Roman answers, straightening on his cart, and, as one, Rory and Amy turn to the Doctor with deadpan looks. "How could you not know that? Just where do you foreigners come from?"
"The navigator is not the most reliable," Rory deadpans before he can stop himself, earning an unimpressed look from the Doctor and a chuckle from Amy.
"Ulysses here just doesn't know how to get to the right place or the right time. It takes him years to go anywhere," Amy adds, tapping the Doctor's shoulder, who rounds on her with an indignant 'oi'. "Don't you give me that look! It'll be just five minutes, you said. Remember that one?"
"Not my fault."
"What about I only meant to skip one day?"
"Not my fault either."
"One month to answer a call?"
"Nope, not that one either."
"Why did I ever agree to this trip?" Rory groans, dropping his head in his hands again, and the not-Roman on the cart hums softly, almost impressed. "Right, thank you for the information, uh…"
"Eusthatios. And you can repay me for it with information of your own," their new friend answers, getting Amy's and the Doctor's attention as well with his words. "Hop on. We shall go deliver the supplies to the Lady, and you can tell her how you evaded the monsters," he orders, and, after exchanging a confused and interested look, Amy climbs onto the cart to sit by his side. "Not you two. The donkeys can't carry us all. You'll have to walk," he adds when Rory shrugs and makes for the rear of the cart.
Face falling, Rory looks at the Doctor as if expecting a solution, but the bloody alien simply shrugs his toga off to stand in his knee-length comfy off-white tunic instead.
"Can we put these on the cart?" he asks, and, after Eusthatios nods, Rory quickly gets his own toga off too. "So, where exactly are we going?"
"To the strait. The Lady has made her stand there with her soldiers, as it is from the strait that the monsters came from," Eusthatios answers calmly, spurring the donkeys on, and Rory steps to the Doctor's side as they walk next to the cart, looking over the covered baskets and amphoras in it. "These are for the Lady and her soldiers. She's a survivor of the monsters, her and her daughter. Their ship was attacked not long after the monsters appeared, and she vowed to bring a stop to it. She recruited the young and strong boys of the village and brought them to her house on the strait, where she trained them to fight the monsters. The battle is still ongoing, and no ship has managed to get past them yet. Until yours."
"How long ago did these monsters appear?" Amy asks, and, this time, Eusthatios actually turns to her.
"Almost a year ago. The Lady arrived but some weeks later, and, after she took the first soldiers with her, the monsters pulled back from the coast, allowing the fishermen out once more. It is a tenuous balance, but most often than not, the monsters are contained to the strait. Now, say, young lady, what is your name?"
"Amy. And that one over there is Rory, my fiancé," she answers with a smile, and Rory waves with a 'hi' and what he hopes is a grin rather than a cringe.
"Your what now? Which land do you hail from, with such strange words? Your accent is as Cumaean as mine!" he exclaims with surprise, looking them over as if their faces could clue him in.
And, think of it, how does that work? The communicating thing, that is. Because, if this is Sicily in 750 BC, and judging by their new friend's comments, this means Eusthatios should be speaking Ancient Greek or something, but all Rory can hear is English.
"My husband-to-be. Sorry, just a slip. You end up picking words here and there when you travel as much as we do," Amy answers as innocently as she can, while Rory turns to the Doctor questioningly.
"The TARDIS translates directly into your head. Who knows what language fiancé sounded like to poor Eusthatios, though. Do you think it might have been Gaulish?" the Doctor answers with a shrug, quickly losing himself in his musings with a mocking grin.
"Amy, Rory and Ulysses. To think the strangest of the lot would have the most sensible name," Eusthatios snorts with a large grin, and the Doctor snaps out of his thoughts to glare at him before puffing up.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Yeah, right, just… How long until we get to this Lady's house?" Rory asks, scanning the horizon to see nothing more than pines and yellowed grass.
Eusthatios looks up at the sky with a hum.
"Oh, about an hour."
Rory groans.
AN: Writing episodes about Ancient History is a pain. Next ones are going to be in the future, so I don't have to worry about keeping facts straight.
Not exactly happy with how this one turned out, but it'll have to do. Sorry, guys.