Chapter 20

The Impossible Astronaut

Andrea Bouchez walked along the rue Bichat in Paris towards a little cafe where she was going to meet a friend. She loved Paris, and had done so since she had been taken there as a child. She also loved a certain history teacher called Pierre, whom she had met when she had returned as a young woman.

They had hit it off from the moment he asked her to dance, and he loved the way she teased him about the recorded account of the French Revolution, pretending that she had been there and that the recorded events were incorrect. She didn't tell him that she had written the original eyewitness account as a joke to see if her father would notice.

'Andrea!' a young man with dishevelled, ginger hair called to her from a table outside the cafe.

She waved and called back. 'Vincent.' She noticed he had two other people with him. An unusually short man in a suit, and a woman with curly blonde hair and expensive clothes.

Vincent kissed her on each cheek, and introduced her to his friends. 'Andrea Bouchez, may I introduce Fleuve Chanson. She has been posing for me.'

Andrea shook her hand. 'Not in the nude I hope.'

'Fleuve gave her a cheeky smile. 'He hasn't asked me . . . yet. No, I've been sitting in the grass whilst he immortalises me in oils.'

The short man in the suit stood, and Vincent introduced him. 'And, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.'

The short man took her hand and kissed it gallantly. 'Pleased to meet you Madame. Vincent did not tell me of your beauty. I am truly blessed to be in the presence of two such beautiful women.'

'Down boy,' Vincent said with a grin.

'A pleasure to meet such a gallant gentleman,' Andrea said. 'Paris is buzzing with gossip about you Mr. Toulouse-Lautrec.'

'All good I hope, and please, call me Henri.'

They all sat down and ordered coffee and croissants, and chatted about their lives.

'Fleuve Chanson?' Andrea questioned. 'That translates into English as River Song.'

'Yes it does,' Fleuve agreed.

'My parents knew a River Song, a long time ago now. In fact, your face looks vaguely familiar.'

'You were just a baby in a push chair when I last saw you. You have your father's memory,' River told her.

Vincent and Henri frowned. 'But Fleuve, surely you are mistaken, You cannot be old enough to have known Andrea as a baby,' Vincent told her.

'I moisturise,' River said with a smile, and Andrea snorted a laugh.

And then, Andrea and River heard the sound of time and space being twisted in an act of transdimensional origami. River noticed that Andrea had a sad expression on her face, and suspected that bad news was coming her way.

Andrea stood and looked at her companions. 'I am sorry to cut this enjoyable meeting short, but I have some family business to attend to.'

'Of course Madame,' Henri said as he politely stood and nodded his head in a bow.

'Nothing serious I hope,' Vincent said, as he stood and kissed her hand.

'Just an ailing relative that needs some tender loving care.'

'That's something you don't see every day,' the tall dark stranger said as he sat down at the bar. He had short, dark hair, sticky out ears, a charming smile, and grey eyes that were full of mirth.

River gave him her best innocent smile. 'I'm sorry?'

'A whole body talking to a cyborg,' the man said.

'Well, everything on Sto has changed now,' River said. 'Cyborgs have equal rights. They have the vote, they can even get married.'

'Yeah, I know. I lobbied the Sto government to bring in the equal opportunities act, but not everyone is as liberal in their views as you.'

'Thank you. I like to think I'm an equal opportunities kind of girl.'

'Got an eye for an opportunity, I'll bet. Like that artefact in your bag.'

River took a lipstick out of her purse and freshened up her lips. 'What artefact would that be?'

The man reached inside his black leather jacket, took out a wallet, and showed her his warrant card. 'Ulysses Longbarrowmas, Superintendent of law enforcement at the Shadow Proclamation.'

'What a great name for a police officer. I know a nice couple with the name Lungbarrowmas.'

'Yeah, right,' Uly scoffed.

'The Doctor and Rose.'

Uly's mouth broke into a grin. 'You have GOT to be River Song.'

'Oh, heard of me have you?'

'Warned about you more like.'

'Ha! Yep, that's them,' River laughed. 'I bet they're proud of you though. Throwing out the Judoon mercenaries and recruiting a multi cultural, multi species police force.'

'Well, it's what Dad would have done in my shoes.'

'And what would he do if he found an archaeologist in a bar, making a deal with a cyborg for a stolen artefact?'

'HE would probably ask why a professor of archaeology would risk her professional reputation to acquire a stolen artefact. But me, I'm a copper, and I would arrest said professor for dealing in stolen goods, and ask for details of her supplier.'

'Ah!' River said. She would have to use the hallucinogenic lipstick after all. She needed to get the stolen artefact back into the correct time line to prevent a catastrophe.

'However, I'm on leave at the moment, visiting the in-laws with my wife, Kayleigh. So I'm off duty, or as off duty as a copper can be.'

'So what are you going to do?'

'What Dad would do. If someone is willing to put their career on the line for a stolen artefact, then there is more to that artefact than it's monetary value. He'd trust that person to the right thing, and not necessarily the legal thing.'

'Thank you. You're father would be proud.'

'I know he is. and Mum,' he said. 'Look after yourself River, and try and stay out of trouble.' He stood up and left the bar, and River heard the wheezing, grinding sound of the TARDIS.

The two science officers of the away team made their way through the jungle, towards the shuttle which was waiting to take them back to the Galaxy class star ship in orbit.

'Ooh, this is what I love about this job,' Peter Lungbarrowmas told his Crespallion wife, Trillien. 'Brand new species of proto-human showing early signs of civilised behaviour.'

'Early signs yeah,' his blue skinned wife said with concern. 'But not there yet.'

'I know,' he said with an excited smile, running his fingers through his sticky up hair. 'But think about it. Being able to study how a species moves from wild, feral behaviour, to developing language and cooperation.'

Trillien could hear the alien apes moving through the jungle around them. Somehow, she didn't think that they had developed a civilisation in the last five minutes, and doubted that they were going to invite them for a sit down and a chat.

'Does the data on your scanner tell you if they're vegetarians?'

'Well, like any successful species, they're omnivorous opportunists.'

'And if I'm not mistaken, we would be a very nice feeding opportunity.'

Peter stopped and frowned as he looked around the forest, seeing the silver furred apes moving around them through the trees.

'Ah!' he said as he tugged his ear. 'Good point . . . D'you know what my mum and dad would do in a situation like this?'

'No,' Trillien said.

He grabbed her hand and gave her a manic grin. 'Run!'

They ran along the narrow trail, the undergrowth clawing at their legs, as though it were trying to hold them so the apes could catch them. But Peter resembled his father in more than just looks, and leaped over roots, dodged sapling trees, dragging his wife with him until they made the clearing where the two seater shuttle was waiting. As were the rest of the troupe of apes.

'Oh great!' Trillien said, rolling her eyes. 'Now what would your dad do?' She knew Peter's parents of course, his mother was incredibly brave and caring, and his father was very eccentric and gave the impression of being a bit of an idiot. But she knew it was an act, he was the most brilliant person she had ever met.

Peter pulled his earlobe. 'Well, right about now, he would come up with a brilliant idea. He usually talked his way out of tight spots.'

Trillien looked around nervously at the advancing apes. Her expertise was in exo-zoology, and she knew these proto-humans would not understand a word he said. 'You might be able to discuss the location of the best fruit tree, or the latest threat. Their language is virtually non existent, just modified alarm calls.'

Peter turned and smiled at her. 'And that my love, is how my parents do it. They work as a team. Have you got the ape's vocalisations on your scanner?'

She took out the tablet device and tabbed through the menus. 'Yeah, here they are. But you can't use those to form a connected series of statements to establish a definite proposition.'

Peter raised an eyebrow in admiration of his wife's academic learning. 'Don't need to,' he said and pressed "play" on one of the sound files.

A screeching call came out of the tablet device, amplified tenfold. The apes looked at each other, and then around the clearing in alarm, looking for the threat that the lookouts were alerting them to. The alarm call continued on a loop, and the apes ran into the trees, climbing to the safety of the canopy. Peter grabbed his wife around the waist, pulled her close and kissed her on the lips.

As they strolled arm in arm back to the shuttle, a gentle wind whipped up the fallen leaves, and a sound that was not natural to the forest, wheezed and ground itself into the here and now.

In the premier art gallery on Meta Sigmafolio, it was the opening night of an exhibition of some of the most extraordinary artwork ever displayed. There were all tiers of society mixing together, from the ordinary person in the street, entrepreneurs, CEO's, politicians, and royalty. Prince Oragorn was there of course, as it was his wife's work that was being displayed.

He had met Sarah Jane Lungbarrowmas when she had arrived with her family to view one of the rare bursts of star fire over the coastal area. She had set up an easel and quickly captured the beauty of the celestial display in a watercolour, which he asked if he could purchase. It was her first sale of her work, and she returned regularly to the planet until the prince eventually wooed her and she accepted his offer of marriage.

'Ooh look at the form and the movement implied in this sculpture,' an enthusiastic fan said to his companion. 'It could almost run off the plinth.'

'I am pleased that you enjoy my wife's work,' a deep resonant voice said behind them. They turned and looked in awe at Prince Oragorn behind them.

'Oh, your Royal Highness. It is an honour to meet you and be in your presence,' the man said with reverence.

'Yes, yes,' Oragorn said with a smile. 'But this evening is not about me, it is about my wife.' He called across the gallery. 'Sarah Jane my dear, you have some fans who I think would love to meet you.'

She excused herself from a conversation with a diplomat, and made her way over to her husband. She held her hand out to the fans of her work. 'Hello, thank you for coming. It's always lovely to meet people who have the same appreciation of art as I do.'

The two fans were literally speechless with wonder. They were just ordinary shop workers who had a love of art, and here was a princess talking to them.

'Y, y, your Royal Highness. I don't believe this. I'm actually speaking with the creator of all this beauty,' one of the men said.

'Ooh, you really are a fan,' Sarah Jane laughed. 'And what do I call you?'

'Klavus Ma'am, and this is my friend Bob. I saved up for years and purchased one of your paintings Ma'am.'

'Really?' Which one?'

'Moonrise Over a Frozen Ocean,' Klavus said with a far away look in his eyes. 'Even thinking about it sends a shiver down my spine. The solitude of the magnificent desolation . . .'

'Oh that's beautifully put,' Sarah Jane said. 'That is exactly how I felt when I first saw Woman Wept. It's that feeling I wanted to convey in the painting.' She held Klavus's hands and squeezed them. 'Thank you. I am so glad that someone who understands the painting, owns it.'

She could see that the two fans were overwhelmed with meeting her, and wanted to do something to reward their love of art and their appreciation of her work. 'And tell me Klavus, which is your favourite work?'

Klavus spoke without hesitation. 'Oh, for me it is a sculpture. Mother's Love For Her Child. The mother's face is SO beautiful and so full of love for her baby that it makes me weep.'

Sarah Jane gave him a warm smile. 'I remember that well. My mother with my younger sister Penelope.

'Mine is a portrait,' Bob said. 'The Oncoming Storm. The look you have captured in the eyes. Such resolute defiance, I feel that nothing could stop that person from achieving their goal.'

'That was my father as he was before I was born.'

'A most formidable man by the look of him, Your Highness.'

Oragorn chuckled. 'You have no idea.'

'They are yours,' Sarah Jane said suddenly.

'Excuse me?' Klavus said in confusion.

'The sculpture and the painting, they are yours.'

'But Your Highness, they are worth thousands of gems. We are but lowly merchants,' Bob told her.

'There are art collectors and aficionados here this evening who know the price of each of my works,' she told them. 'And yet I would wager that few of them understood the value as you do. Art should be owned for appreciation, not for an investment.'

'But your Highness, it is too much. We cannot possibly accept such a gift,' Klavus said.

Sarah Jane gave them a teasing smile. A smile she had inherited from her mother, where her tongue poked from between her teeth. 'I'm a princess, and I would be offended if you refuse . . . You wouldn't want to offend a princess would you?'

The two fans were flustered. 'Er, no Ma'am. Of course not Ma'am. Sorry Ma'am. Oh, and thank you Ma'am.'

'There is a condition though,' she added.

The fans gulped nervously. 'Ma'am?'

'I would like your permission to visit my works occasionally and see them being appreciated.'

Oragorn roared with laughter at the look on the dumbfounded fans faces. When they had moved away, the prince leaned forward and kissed his wife lovingly on the lips. 'That was very sweet of you. You are so like your mother. Always caring about the ordinary people.'

Sarah Jane's face had become sad. 'Talking of my mother,' she said, as they heard the sound of the TARDIS elbow its way into the universe outside the gallery.

Penelope Lungbarrowmas was pinned beneath the body of a large, striped, tiger-looking cat. She could feel its warm breath on her cheek, see the long canine teeth glisten as it licked its lips. She could hear a low, rumbling growl in its throat has it slowly pressed its body down onto hers.

She gave the tomcat a defiant smile. 'Go on then . . . do your worst.'

The cat roared, and she gasped in ecstasy as they both climaxed together.

'Shush!' she giggled. 'You'll wake the kittens.'

'Sorry Love, but I couldn't help myself. You drive me wild,' her catkind husband, Tylar said as he flopped beside her on the bed. She reached over and scratched him behind the ear, which elicited a rumbling purr from deep within his chest.

Penelope smiled at her husband as he lay on his back like a domestic moggy. He was SO cute when he did that. She felt his tail wrap itself around her upper thigh and start to tickle her intimate areas. 'Oooohhhhh,' she sighed as he gently stroked between her legs. He thought she was SO cute when she did that.

As they descended from their post coital high, Tylar's brain started to work again. He had a clinic this morning at The Sisters of Plenitude hospital, and then he had a list of surgery in the afternoon. His wife had an appointment at the Star Drive Propulsion Test Complex, in New Mississippi, where her new design for a warp drive engine was being given a shake down.

She had inherited her father's brains, and had studied at some of the best universities in the galaxy. She made a name for herself as an engineering undergraduate, when her thesis rewrote the rulebook on how a slip stream engine should be built. As a postgraduate, she went on to produce a number of papers on the physics and engineering of warping space-time.

'Did I tell you Joshua is doing the reconstruction surgery on that weird case of transgenic modification today?' he said as they lay there, enjoying the feel of each others body next to them.

'Is that the guy who said he was attacked by robots so that they could turn him into some kind of pig slave?'

'Yeah, that's him. Lazlo I think he said his name was. Anyway, I suppose we had better get up then if we're going to get the kits to the kindergarten on time,' Tylar said.

Penelope groaned. She was enjoying just lying there with her hunk of a husband. 'Yeah. You're right I suppose. C'mon and I'll scrub your fur in the shower.'

After their shower, as they dried each other's bodies, they heard a familiar sound which told Penelope it was time for her to join her family.

Leadworth, Gloucestershire.

94 TARDIS years later.

In the Kitchen of the Pond's home, Amy was reading from a history book while Rory unpacked the bags of shopping.

'At the personal intervention of the King, the unnamed Doctor was incarcerated without trial in the Tower of London,' Amy read.

'Okay, but it doesn't have to be him,' Rory reasoned.

Amy read on. 'According to contemporary accounts, two nights later, a magical sphere some twenty feet across, was seen floating away from the tower, bearing the mysterious Doctor aloft.'

'Okay. It's him.'

'There's more . . .' she continued as they put away the groceries.

After lunch, they were cuddled up on the sofa. Rory was watching "Flying Deuces", one of his favourite Laurel and Hardy films, whilst Amy continued to read the history book.

'It's like he's being deliberately ridiculous, trying to attract our attention,' she said, and then looked at the television. 'Are you watching this again?'

'Yeah. I've explained the jokes.'

The doorbell rang, and Amy got off the sofa to answer the door. It was the postman, and he handed over some letters.

Rory looked to the living room door. 'So what are you saying? Do you really think he's back there, trying to wave to us, out of history books?' he asked, completely missing the Doctor in a fez waving at the camera before joining Stan and Ollie in their dance.

'Hey, it's the sort of thing he'd do,' she called from the hallway. 'Thanks,' she said to the postman.

'Yeah, but why?' Rory asked her.

'Well, he said he'd be in touch.'

'Two months ago,' Rory reminded her. It had been that long since they had been on honeymoon on a star liner, and the Doctor and Rose had prevented it from crashing into a planet.

'Two months is nothing. He's up to something. I know he is . . . I know him.'

She sorted through the letters, and saw one with a lot of stamps and an overseas post mark. She turned it over and it had a number 3 on it.

Rory saw her frown as she opened it 'What is it? Amy?'

'A date, a time, a map reference . . . I think it's an invitation.'

'From who?'

'It's not signed,' she told him, but she had an idea. 'Look, TARDIS blue.'

Rory stood up and reached the laptop off the dining table. 'What's the map reference? I'll google it.'

'37 degrees 0' 38 North, and 110 degrees 14' 34 West,' she read.

Rory inputted the co-ordinates and found a map that displayed the location. 'The Utah, Arizona border, halfway between Las Vegas and Albuquerque.'

'Vegas? Wow! We could go visit Vegas.'

Highway 163, Utah.

22nd April, 2011.

The San Juan School District bus let Rory and Amy off, with their backpacks.

'Thanks!' Amy called to the driver.

'You're very welcome,' the driver called from inside the bus.

'This is it, yeah?' Amy asked her husband as the bus drove off. 'The right place?'

'Nowhere . . . middle of? Yeah, this is it.'

'Howdy,' a voice said in a Hollywood film accent.

Amy and Rory turned to see the Doctor lying on the bonnet of a classic American shooting brake.

'Doctor!' Amy said with glee.

'Ha, ha! It's the Pond,' he said as he slid off the bonnet.

'Hey!' she said as they hugged.

'Hello, Pond. Come here.'

'So, someone's been a busy boy then, eh?'

'Did you see me?'

'Of course.'

'Stalker.'

'Flirt.'

'Husband,' Rory said, reminding them that he was there.

'Rory the nurse! Ooh, come here,' the Doctor said, pulling him into a back slapping hug.

'Hey, nice hat,' Rory noticed.

'I wear a Stetson now. Stetsons are cool,' he told them.

'Where's Rose and Andrea?' Amy asked, looking into the car.

Before the Doctor could explain, someone shot the Stetson off his head.

They turned around to see River Song blowing the smoke from the barrel of a six shooter and holstering it. 'Hello, sweetie.'

'Hello River. Still got a thing about guns I see,' the Doctor said by way of a greeting.

After they exchanged greetings, the Doctor drove them a short distance to a Diner.

'Right then, where are we?' River asked as she flicked through her TARDIS looking diary. 'Have we done Easter Island yet?'

The Doctor leafed through his own diary. 'Er, yes! I've got Easter Island.'

'They worshipped you there. Have you seen the statues?'

'Jim the fish,' the Doctor said, finding another entry.

'Oh! Jim the fish. How is he?'

'Still building his dam.'

Amy and Rory returned from the counter with their bottles of Dr. Pepper. 'Sorry, what are you two doing?' Rory asked.

Amy explained. 'They're both time travellers, so they never meet in the right order. They're syncing their diaries. So, what's happening, then? Because you've been up to something. And hey, you never said where Rose and Andrea were.'

'Er . . . They'll be along later. I've been running . . . faster than I've ever run. And I've been running my whole life. Now, it's time for me to stop. And tonight, I'm going to need you all with me,' he told them.

'Okay. We're here. What's up?' Amy asked him.

'A picnic. And then a trip. Somewhere different, somewhere brand new,' he told her.

'Where?'

'Space, 1969' he said mysteriously.

He next drove them to a nearby lake, where he took a wicker picnic basket out of the back of the vehicle, while Rory laid the blanket on the sun baked ground. Amy and River took out the plates and placed the food on them.

They enjoyed the sandwiches, chicken drumsticks and salad, before finishing with cheese and biscuits. They each had a glass of red wine, except for the Doctor, who had the bottle.

'Salud!' he said, holding up the bottle.

'Salud,' they all replied.

'So, when are we going to 1969?' Rory asked as he sipped his wine.

'And since when do you drink wine?' Amy asked him.

'I'm eleven hundred and three. I must've drunk it sometime,' he said, taking a swig from the bottle. He immediately spat it out. 'Oh, why it's horrid. I thought it would taste more like the gums.'

Amy frowned. 'Eleven hundred and three? You were nine hundred and eight the last time we saw you.'

'And you've put on a couple of pounds,' he retorted. 'I wasn't going to mention it.'

'No, but wait,' Amy said, working out the ages in her head. 'That means in two months, you've lived nearly two hundred years.'

'Well yeah,' Rory said as though it was obvious. 'He's got a time machine.

Amy had a sad look on her face as she looked from her husband to the Doctor. 'You're not getting it . . . Humans don't live for two hundred years.'

'Oh,' Rory said as the penny dropped.

'What . . . what happened to Rose and Andrea?' Amy asked the Doctor hesitantly.

'Yes, you're right. Rose passed away a century ago,' he said with a sad smile.

'Oh Doctor. I'm so sorry,' Amy said, wiping a tear from her eye.

'Don't be,' he told her. 'Thanks to the TARDIS she lived to well over a hundred, and we had a long and happy marriage.' He stopped talking and looked off into the distance. 'It might have been a hundred years ago, but I still miss her.'

He then realised that River kept meeting him in the wrong order. 'Did you meet Rose, or hasn't that happened for you yet?'

'Spoilers,' River told him.

'Exactly. You have to keep this to yourself,' he said sternly.

'I know,' she replied.

'But you said Rose and Andrea would be along later,' Rory remembered.

'Ah, yes I did, didn't I,' he admitted. 'Er, I just said that so I didn't upset you.'

Amy noticed a strange figure silhouetted on the skyline. 'Who's that?'

'Hmm? Who's who?' Rory asked.

'Sorry, what?' Amy said in confusion.

'What did you see?' Rory asked.' You said you saw something.'

Amy didn't remember seeing anything. 'No, I didn't.'

The Doctor changed the subject quickly. 'Ah, the moon. Look at it. Of course, you lot did a lot more than look, didn't you? Big, silvery thing in the sky. You couldn't resist it . . . Quite right.'

'The moon landing was in 69. Is that where we're going?' Rory asked.

'No. A lot more happens in 69 than anyone remembers. Human beings. I thought I'd never get done saving you.'

A truck pulled up nearby and an elderly man in jeans and plaid shirt got out. The Doctor waved to him.

'Who's he?' Amy asked.

Before the Doctor could tell her, River spotted something in the lake. 'Oh, my God.'

A figure in a NASA spacesuit was standing up to its knees in the lake.

'You all need to stay back. Whatever happens now, you do not interfere. Clear?' the Doctor told them.

The Doctor went to meet the figure, who had stepped out of the water.

'That's an astronaut. That's an Apollo astronaut in a lake,' Rory said in amazement.

'Yeah,' Amy agreed.

They watched as the astronaut raised its gold plated visor, as the Doctor spoke to it.

'What's he doing?' Amy asked

She got her answer when the astronaut raised its arm and shot the Doctor with an energy weapon.

'DOCTOR!' Amy cried in alarm.

'Amy, stay back!' River said, pulling her back as she tried to run to him.

He was shot again. 'The Doctor said stay back! You have to stay back!' River told her.

Amy struggled to get free. 'No! No! Doctor!'

They saw regeneration energy flow from the Doctor's hands as he turned his head to look at them. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly.

The astronaut shot again just as the regeneration started properly. This time it was River who called out 'NO! DOCTOR!'

'Doctor, please!' Amy cried as she ran forward and knelt at his side with River and Rory.

River scanned the Doctor with her small tablet device and realised he was dead. She stood up and drew her sidearm.

'River,' Amy called to her. 'River! River? NO.' She knew the Doctor would not want revenge.

But River did want revenge. She emptied her six-shooter at the astronaut, who was walking back into the lake. 'Of course not.'

Amy was in shock. 'River, he can't be dead. This isn't possible.'

River returned to the lifeless body of the Doctor. 'Whatever that was, it killed him in the middle of his regeneration cycle. His body was already dead. He didn't make it to the next one.'

'Maybe he's a clone or a duplicate or something,' Amy said, clutching at straws of hope.

The old man from the truck approached, with a petrol can. 'I believe I can save you some time. That most certainly is the Doctor. And he is most certainly dead. He said you'd need this.'

Rory looked at the jerry can. 'Gasoline?'

River understood. 'A Time Lord's body is a miracle. Even a dead one. There are whole empires out there who'd rip this world apart for just one cell. We can't leave him here. Or anywhere.'

Amy shook the Doctor's shoulders. 'Wake up. Come on, wake up, you stupid, bloody idiot. What do we do, Rory?'

'We're his friends,' River said. 'We do what the Doctor's friends always do . . . As we're told.'

Rory looked around. 'There's a boat. If we're going to do this, let's do it properly.'

So, as the sun set, they set light to the boat and pushed it out into the lake, giving the Doctor a Viking funeral.

'Who are you? Why did you come?' River asked the old man.

'The same reason as you,' he told her as he held out his blue invitation. 'Doctor Song . . . Amy . . . Rory. I'm Canton Everett Delaware the third. I won't be seeing you again, but . . . you'll be seeing me.'

He turned around and walked back to his truck.

'Four,' River said suddenly.

'Sorry, what?' Rory asked.

'The Doctor numbered the envelopes,' she realised. 'Come on, let's get back to the Diner. I need a drink.'

As River drove the shooting brake back to the Diner, they sat in a shocked, depressed silence. When they arrived, they went inside as River reviewed what they knew. 'You got 3, I was 2, Mister Delaware was 4.'

'So?' Rory asked her.

'So, where's 1?'

'What, you think he invited someone else?'

'Well, he must have. He planned all of this, to the last detail.'

Amy stopped and leaned on the back of one of the seats. 'Will you two shut up? It doesn't matter.'

'He was up to something,' River continued.

'He's dead,' Amy whispered.

But River was still thinking out loud. 'Space, 1969. What did he mean?'

'You're still talking, but it doesn't matter,' Amy told them.

'Hey, it mattered to him,' Rory said.

'So it matters to us,' River agreed.

'He's dead.'

'But he still needs us. I know. Amy,' River said sympathetically. 'I KNOW. But right now we have to focus.'

Rory was looking at a table at the back of the Diner 'Look.'

There was another blue envelope on a table near the back.

Rory went to the bar tender. 'Excuse me, who was sitting over there?'

'Some couple with a kid,' he told him.

'The Doctor knew he was going to his death, so he sent out messages,' River said. 'When you know it's the end, who do you call?'

'Er, your friends. People you trust,' Rory reasoned.

'Number 1. Who did The Doctor trust the most?' River asked.

'Amy! Rory! River! Oh this is brilliant! Did you get an invite too,' Rose asked, as she came out of the restroom, parked the pushchair and hugged the group.

'Oh my God! Rose, it's you. You're alive,' Amy cried.

Rose laughed. 'Well I was the last time I looked.'

Rory looked confused. 'But if you're here . . . then that means . . .'

The Doctor came out of the restroom and looked at the group in surprise. They could see the TARDIS through the open door.

River gave him an icy look. 'This is cold. Even by your standards, this is cold.'

'Or hello, as people used to say,' the Doctor replied.

'Doctor?' Amy asked, unsure if he could actually be there.

'I just popped out to get my special straw. It adds more fizz.'

'And Andrea needed the toilet,' Rose told the stunned group.

'You're okay. How can you be okay?'

'Hey, of course I'm okay. I'm always okay. I'm the King of Okay. Oh, that's a rubbish title. Forget that title. Rory the nurse! That's a good title. Hello, Rory. And Doctor River Song. Oh, you bad, bad girl. What trouble have you got for me this time?'

River slapped him hard across the cheek.

'OI!' Rose said, standing in front of her husband to protect him from this woman who, being honest, she didn't trust, and didn't particularly like.

'Okay,' he said, rubbing his cheek. 'I'm assuming that's for something I haven't done yet.'

'Yes, it is,' River said angrily.

'Good. Looking forward to it.'

'I don't understand. How can you be here?' Rory asked him.

'We were invited. Date, map reference. Same as you lot, I assume, otherwise it's a hell of a coincidence.'

Amy turned to River. 'River, what's going on?'

River had an idea of what was happening. She'd been there, done that and got the T-shirt. 'Amy, ask him what age he is.'

'That's a bit personal,' Rose said, still angry that she'd slapped her husband.

'Tell her. Tell her what age you are,' River insisted.

'Nine hundred and nine,' he told them.

'Yeah, but you said you were . . . So where does that leave us, huh? Jim the fish? Have we done Jim the fish yet?' she asked.

'Who's Jim the fish?' the Doctor and Rose asked in confusion.

'I don't understand,' Amy said.

'Yeah, you do,' Rory told her.

'I don't!' the Doctor told them.

'That's a relief,' Rose said. 'I thought I'd missed somethin' then.'

'What are we all doing here?' the Doctor asked.

'We've been recruited,' River told him. 'Something to do with space 1969, and a man called Canton Everett Delaware the third.'

'Recruited by WHO?' Rose asked.

'Someone who trusts the Doctor more than anybody else in the universe,' River announced.

The Doctor frowned. 'And who's that?'

River smiled. 'Spoilers.'

The End