Thank You, God, for everything.
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Doctor Who. Thanks for reading!
"Welcome to The Cooking Talk," the woman, Sylvia, said. "I'm Sylvia Flamboyant, and I am here with a special guest today, it seems." For the Doctor had not been able to move off the set in time and was standing awkwardly next to Sylvia. Amy, and Rory, who had been there, both nearly facepalmed themselves as they stood next to James and Camille.
Sylvia turned to the Doctor and said, "And what is your name, sir?"
"My name is quite simply the Doctor, Sylvia," the Doctor said, and he quickly changed the subject before she could dwell on the fact that he only had a title as a name. Looking about, he said, "Your set is very lovely, I have to say. This kitchen is wonderful." He fumbled with a stove button. "It's wonderful to be on the show."
"Thank you, Doctor, darling. What is your best dish?" Sylvia asked.
The Doctor smiled proudly to himself. "I have numerous dishes. I've created the noodle and Yorkshire pudding and French pastry crust (I went to a very lovely culinary school in Paris. I was the head instructor, with massive awards to my name), I'm awfully good at omelets, but my FAVORITE dish has got to be fish fingers and custard."
Sylvia looked politely disgusted while the Doctor shared a secret smile with Amy, who was smirking next to Rory. "I have to ask, how did that recipe . . . come about?"
"It was midnight, I was hungry, needed to eat," the Doctor said. "Raided a friend's fridge for something very non-poisonous. It tasted amazing compared to stupid beans and apples. Stupid stupid stupid stupid things."
"Were you hungover?" Sylvia asked slyly, and there was a studio laughing. The Doctor looked confused, as there was no audience in front of him except the crew. He craned his neck trying to locate them, and then turned to Sylvia with the most serious expression on his face. "No. I have particular tastes, and it seems that you have a problem with that? Have you?"
"I suppose no," Sylvia said slowly.
"You better not; I invented the noodle," the Doctor said. "You should be thanking me, not insulting me." He gave his head a toss and said, looking about the kitchen before him, "Well, are we making fish fingers and custard or what?"
Sylvia looked rather disgusted, but there was suddenly a platform on the counter that rose up and produced ingredients to make the dish. The Doctor rubbed his hands together excitedly, looking pleased, and said, looking to Sylvia and then to the head camera, "Let's get cooking then, shall we?"
He straightened and started off, making Sylvia take a step back, looking perturbed. "All right," he said, beginning to take up the package of fish fingers. "Now, we could go ol' school and just bread some lovely fish fillets cut into fingers in some panko and egg, but who has time for that? I do, but none of you do, so just use the prepackaged, it'll work, that's what I used."
"What kind of cuisine would you call this, Doctor?" Sylvia said, attempting to get back into the conversation as the Doctor talked to the camera like it was an old friend as he took out a sheet tray and went to preheat the oven.
"Extraterrestrial, of course," the Doctor said matter-of-factly. "Just like that accident in the studio today."
"Oh, that," Sylvia said. She looked to the camera and said, "There was a mysterious force over the studios today. It's gone, though."
This was supposed to soothe whatever nerves had been provoked in any viewers listening, but the Doctor took it as an opportunity to run with to tell James what happened, and so he began to take it as he began measuring ingredients for the custard.
"It may come back, but I highly doubt that. It was a gas pod that was alien, of course it had to be, none of you humans could be able to create that sort of thing, sorry, no offense intended. Now, stir in the eggs carefully with the cream, or else you'll end up with scrambled eggs and bah to that." The Doctor looked to Sylvia and continued in the same bright, cheerful conversational tone, "But, yes, don't not be alarmed. I'd be alarmed about that pod if I were you. It didn't just come here by itself. Someone planted it with bad intentions. There's a someone who put it in the studio." The Doctor looked to the camera and pointed his dripping spoon at it. "See, you have to be careful, both with custard and dealing with aliens who want to try to get to the human race."
Sylvia looked properly flustered, and across from her, James was facepalming himself with one hand and making his other wave about crazily, making Amy, who was looking at the Doctor, who was enjoying himself immensely, look to the blank hostess and the director.
Rory just looked on with a sort of dumbfounded look, as though he couldn't believe the Doctor was saying this sort of stuff on live TV. But, unlike much of everyone watching, he wasn't too surprised: this was within the Doctor's character.
"Now, the custard needs to set for a bit or it'll just drip off the fish and that's COMPLETELY useless, and the last thing you need with this dish is a spoon," the Doctor said, setting the now cooling custard into the blast chiller. He pulled out a bowl and said, bringing it to eye level and examining it, in amazement, "Oh, they already made a batch for me. That's exciting, isn't it?"
The Doctor closed the segment very well, seeing as Sylvia looked so flustered that she couldn't part them from the camera even if she wanted to. The Doctor stacked the fish sticks into a careful tower, seeing as they were like tiny two-by-fours, and set a bowl of the custard next to it.
"And, if you're feeling terribly fancy or you need to get rid of your weeds, just stick a bit of parsley on it," the Doctor said, delicately placing the sprig of parsley he had between his fingers on top of the custard. He wiped his hands against each other and looked to the camera, saying, "See, it's really that simple." He took up the plate in his hand and offered some to Sylvia, who shook her head as politely as she could. He shrugged and turned so that his body was facing the head camera. He took up a fish finger and dipped it and ate it, chewing and nodding like he had just gotten to the catchy part of a song he really liked.
"THAT," he said, looking to the camera. "Is brilliant. So remember: feel free to decorate your food with your spare garden clippings and be sure to watch for blotchy chocolate covered people. If you see one, call me as you run. It's your best plan."
The cameras turned off and James stood up, his head in his hands, looking like his life was ruined.
The Doctor turned and patted Sylvia on the shoulder, told her she was brilliant, and went to join Amy, Rory, and James, the latter two in a very heated discussion.
"I can't really believe you just did that," Amy said, cocking her head with a smirk toward the Doctor.
"Better believe it, sister," the Doctor said cheerfully, shifting his hips back and forth. "I usually do improv. Improv works on the spot."
"You have a way with words. It's funny. You have to talk yourself out of enough situations, though, so I probably shouldn't be so surprised," Amy said, eying the Doctor with a look that was amused and didn't want to give him as much credit as he was giving himself.
"But I'm full of surprises, so many," the Doctor said.
James finally threw up his hands and looked fiercely from an intense looking Rory to a surprised Amy to the Doctor, who was fixing to dip another fish finger into his custard.
"You lot have officially driven me crazy. You" - he pointed at the Doctor, the Doctor looked pleased - "have ruined my cooking show. That was live, and there was thousands of thousands of people watching that. The ratings are going to go down because YOU TALKED ABOUT INVADING ALIENS AND GAS PODS. You" - he pointed to Rory, who looked like he was fairly pissed - "you want to change MY script so you don't have to act. And I thought you lot were professional-"
"We never said that, you know," Amy said. She raised an eyebrow and said, "You fully assumed that. That probably was your first mistake."
"YOU ARE NOT HELPING," James said. He looked back to Rory and pointing a finger at him, said angrily, "You get what you want. Are you happy now?" He grabbed a stack of paper from beside him and a pen and thrust them into Rory's surprised arms, saying, "You can rewrite the entire script, FOR THE ENTIRE SERIES. Because the Alien and the Diva are supposed to get together, but now they can't because the Diva is now married to the Roman, so I suggest you write it that way, and no royalties for you!" and James stormed off.
"What a plot twist," the Doctor said as Rory, looking at the script with a lot of alarm, sat down in the director's chair, looking shocked.
Amy stooped down next to him and said, "Rory? Rory, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I think so," he said very quietly. He let out a nervous laugh. "I'm just not really used to having so much pressure on me."
"Good, this is your time to shine," the Doctor said, smiling. He began to chat steadily, looking very happy at the change of things, and so he didn't notice Camille Burnett slipping away from everyone else, a bottle of a something in the crook of her elbow. It was half-empty, though. That was probably do to the fact that half of it had been dumped in the custard.
The Doctor had found the three of them a good spot to rest themselves. It was a card table in a holding area where the actors and actresses waited to be called on set once they were done being beautified.
They were all seated in foldable chairs. Rory had discarded his armor and had it sitting on a chair next to him as he bent over the script, scribbling out lines and adding new ones, biting his lip every so often. A packet of chips sat half-open to him.
Amy sat next to the armor-filled chair, and she and the Doctor were bending over the fish fingers and custard. Having not had lunch, they had been thinking they'd head to some circus- or other-themed restaurant while they were out. However, Rory was stuck with this script and they were now fully integrated into a telly show. That was fine by them, but they were still hungry.
"Oh, gosh, this brings back memories," Amy said, sighing as she gazed at the fish finger she held. "Sure you don't want some, Rory?"
"Strangely enough, I don't have the taste for them. Never had, never will," Rory said, looking up from his work. His face was a little pained looking as he watched the two eat the weird food like it was the most delectable thing they had ever had in their lives. "I got my crisps. You-you used to make this when we played together and you forced me to eat it."
"Hey, you were supposed to be the Doctor. You were supposed to like it better than bacon, or beans, or APPLES," Amy said quickly.
"Still, no thanks," Rory said, looking back to the papers in front of him.
"Oh, don't worry about him, Amy," the Doctor said cheerfully, leaning against his foldable chair. His legs were crossed and across the table, and he had to move his arm out a lot to reach the bowl and platter. He grabbed his umpteenth fish finger and dipped it slowly in the smooth, yellow custard. He brought it in front of his face and looked at it a moment, saying, "He'll come around to it someday. Don't worry, solemnly swear," and he took a bite off the fish finger like he was ripping its head off. It didn't have a head, of course, but that was just an analogy
"I won't worry about him, then," Amy said cheerfully, making Rory glare up at her.
The Doctor smiled and then looked away from her, his smile disappearing. His hand went to his stomach, which was feeling topsy-turvy. Suddenly his head felt hot and his hearts were pounding something awful. That in and of itself was strange, seeing as usually one just went up and out; not like this, both of them reacting to something awfully strongly.
Suddenly he stood up, feeling dizzy and woozy. He heard Amy's voice saying in his mind, her voice distorted and foggy, "Doctor? What is it? Doctor, are you all right?"
The Doctor turned and looked at both Ponds for a moment. Both of their faces were scared, Rory's astonished and confused and Amy's angry. She said very loudly so that it was clear to him, "What is wrong, Doctor?"
"I think I may have been poisoned," the Doctor said, and he stumbled and Amy jumped from her seat and took to him, putting her arm under him.
Rory looked horrified as he stood up, saying as he hurried to the Doctor, "Poison? How-how isn't Amy acting like that?"
"Yeah, Doctor, what gives?" Amy said, looking worriedly at her old friend as Rory turned and yelled for help.
The Doctor coughed and spat. His insides were being cooked, he thought. He had once been pushed into a furnace, like he was a child in a fairytale, and it had felt colder than this. His insides were burning through him, and he wondered how Amy wasn't jumping from him as he turned to look at her and spat, feeling angry through his pain, "Just me. That-that - that sounds like something alien - TASTES alien - oh, that's a theory-"
"What theory? Come on, Doctor, speak to me!" Amy said urgently, feeling the urge to shake him but didn't, not wanting to cause him more pain. "What theory?"
"That this poison" - here he coughed like he had a lung that needed to come up - "is meant to poison two-hearted beings only."
"Oh, isn't THAT brilliant!" Amy said frantically. "That means someone knows you're an alien and now you're dying. DON'T DIE ON ME, DOCTOR, YOU CAN'T GO ON DYING ON ME, I WON'T LET YOU, PLEASE."
Her voice, her panicking and demanding voice, reminded the Doctor of another redhead he used to know, but he closed his eyes as hard as he could and tried to forget that image in his head.
"I can't - really - promise anything - Pond!" the Doctor said, and now people were gathering around them, looking vastly alarmed at what was happening, and Amy had him in a sitting position against her now, and he was turned to see her face and it was screwed up and there was tears mixed in with her dark mascara and there was medics coming around to him, trying to drag her away from him. Rory was watching, looking pale and blank, when he suddenly remembered that he was a nurse, and he hurried forward and moved people out of the way, saying frantically in a panicked voice, "Come on, move. Please, I'm a nurse! I'm a medical . . . person, move!"
He found himself in front of the Doctor, who was not crying but choking out coughs, and Amy was looking from him to her husband, saying quickly, "Save him, please, Rory, save him!"
That was when the Doctor went up and stopped breathing.
PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU FEEL SO INCLINED. God bless you!