AN: *laughs nervously* Hi again. Well, only one day behind schedule. Not dead? So here you go...
After about fifteen minutes of sitting on the beach, Amy turned to the Doctor, rolling her eyes.
"Doctor?" she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.
"Hmmm?" He acknowledged, briefly looking up from his book.
"You do realize you look ridiculous in that tweed jacket and suspenders," She giggled at the confused glare he gave her. "It IS the beach."
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Yes, thanks for the observation Pond, and your point is?"
"Doctor," Rory decided to intercede before it became a heated argument, when Amy's hints and nudges still did not have an effect on the Doctor. "You do look slightly, um, un-beach-like?" he said, for lack of a better term.
"Besides," Amy chimed in, "I'm ready for a swim." At the sight of the Doctor's incredulous face, she sighed. "No, you are not waiting on the shore in your suit."
"But-" the Doctor began to protest, but Amy was already dragging him back to the TARDIS, leaving Rory to tag along.
And so it was that the Doctor came back out of the TARDIS, in swim trunks a little too big for this incarnation, ears bright red, being dragged out by an insistent Amy in a flattering swimsuit and Rory tagging along with sunglasses, a sun shirt, and swim trunks on.
"Amy," The Doctor whined, "I don't NEED to swim. I was perfectly fine in my suit." At Amy's glare, he changed tactics, saying, "At least let me sit on the shore with a SHIRT on."
"Doctor," Amy turned around, hands on hips. "We're at the BEACH. The BEACH. NO ONE has a shirt on."
Rory cleared his throat slightly.
"You don't count," Amy said, "considering the Doctor's idea of a shirt is not what you have on."
The Doctor plunked down on the sand, looking for all the world like a pouting child.
A splash from Amy brought him back to reality.
"Hey!" he shouted, and soon it became a full-blown war.
And sure enough, the Doctor eventually forgot that he DIDN'T have a suit on and enjoyed himself, for once.
Finally, tired and out of breath (with the exception of the third, who didn't seem to EVER tire), Amy, Rory, and the Doctor trekked their way back to where they had placed their towels.
"I'm hungry," Amy commented, "Any restaurants you would suggest, Doctor? NORMAL restaurants, please- at least as normal as you can get with an alien planet."
The Doctor contemplated this for a moment before smiling a broad smile and saying, "Come along Ponds. I have just the thing."
And so they ended up sitting in a restaurant, very similar to one on Earth. Even the general atmosphere seemed to be the same; you had the same multi-cultural feel, with the exception that "multi-cultural", in this case, tended to be of other alien species in the same galaxy.
1987, Amy thought, and this is where they are. So far compared to us at this time. Further than we ARE, even at the present.
Smiling, a waitress with bright blue hair and clashing startling white skin walked up to their table.
"What drinks can I get for you?" she asked politely.
"Doctor," Amy whispered, panicking slightly. "What drinks do they have at this time?"
But the Doctor was already answering, surprisingly, asking for a cup of hot tea.
So, she nervously asked for a glass of iced green tea. To her surprise, the waitress simply nodded, and went on to Rory, who answered likewise, eliciting the same response.
As the waitress turned to go get their drinks, Amy asked, puzzled, "Why do they understand us?"
The Doctor looked uncomfortable for a moment, his face quickly flushing and his ears going red at the tips.
Taking in a gulp of air before beginning, he said, "Slave race. They were one of the greatest ancient civilizations in the universe. Much like my people, in fact. But they eventually let their power get the better of them. This race, much younger and more eager to gain a reputation on this planet, took them over, enslaving them. There is little left of the dignity that once defined their race; however, as great travelers and hoarders of knowledge, they know virtually everything there is to know about the races strewn across the galaxies.
Hot rage was clear in Amy's voice as she turned to the Doctor in indignation, "And I suppose you can just stand by and let that happen, huh? Just support it? Just accept it?"
"Amy…" The Doctor pleaded, laying his hand gently on her arm.
"No," she shook her head, yanking his hand away. "You know, you may have had experience with these things, as a 900 year old alien. And you may have acquiesced yourself to these things. But that doesn't make it right."
The Doctor didn't know what to say, so he stayed silent.
There were tears now in Amy's eyes.
"You just have to ruin everything, Doctor. Everything," Turning to Rory, she said, "Come on," and pulled him up from the table.
"Amy, wait!" The Doctor cried out after her.
But she was already gone.
"Trouble among friends?" said a smooth voice, oddly familiar.
The Doctor looked up in surprise as a strange woman with a startling red cloak draped over a shimmering shift that seemed almost entirely fabricated of precious jewels sat down with a flurry of rustling jewelry.
He had barely opened his mouth to exclaim when the woman quickly shushed him by placing a solitary finger over his mouth.
"Hello Sweetie," she said.
Sorry about the cliffhanger, but I will stick to weekly updates, considering I have, um, the other chapter written and that's about it. So yeah. Until next time.