𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

"Just you and me together? Forever?" The Obsidian Jax asked me, blue eyes big and round.

My own, so similar to his, were equally as big and promising. I nodded, wrapping my pinky around his and shaking it firmly.

"Together," I promised.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

I could not be sure exactly how much later it was when I woke up. But I knew that my body was still trembling—sore in the best way possible and my soul feeling as though it had been shaken to no return.

I also knew that the Doctor had cuddled me throughout most my time asleep.

The sound of objects moving is what woke me.

Cracking one eye open, my nose scrunched—I was met with the sight of the Doctor vacuuming.

Whatever vacuum he was using was clearly from some point in the far future to Amy's time seeing as it was completely silent with a silvery sleek design. I huffed upon looking around and realized that something was different about my room.

It was clean.

It's no secret that I can be an absurdly messy person, and my room reflected this. I had not thought it to be that bad—it only looked like a small tornado ran through it rather than an entire hurricane as it typically did.

Apparently, the Doctor did not think so considering he was wearing one of my robes and vacuuming. He looked quite funny in the silky black robe with lace twining around the edges—a robe that was clearly made for a woman or a more feminine person. Seeing as the Doctor was neither in this generation, he just looked goofy.

It was tied at his waist loosely, his chest on full display, and his delicate areas just barely covered. His fluffy hair was a disaster—the long brown locks falling into his eyes to the point that he was constantly blowing it away or snapping his neck to try and get it out of his face.

He needed a haircut, badly.

Nevertheless, I could not stop the soft smile from falling on my face as I watched him. He was so handsome.

"Why are you cleaning my room?" I finally asked after a long moment of watching him, finding my voice as the drowsiness slowly wore off.

I cringed as I felt how sticky and wet it was under the covers. These sheets should be burned—there was no washing this mess. The smell that I was emitting was not pleasant either—unless you really like the smell of sex (AKA—dick and pussy).

The Doctor paused, whirling around to look at me in surprise. His face brightened immediately.

"Oh, dearest! I'm sorry, did I wake you?" He asked, eyes wide with an almost comical amount of concern.

I yawned, stretching slightly under the covers before giving a lazy shrug. "I was already on the path to waking up, so not really."

His lips pressed together, eyes scanning over me as if to double-check my words, but he didn't argue. Instead, with a practiced flick of his wrist, he secured the futuristic vacuum to the wall—where it promptly folded in on itself and disappeared like it had never existed.

I blinked. "Okay. That's mildly concerning, what else is hiding in my walls?"

The Doctor grinned, completely unbothered. "Neat, though, isn't it?"

I rolled my eyes before finally taking in the full extent of my room.

It was... pristine.

The floor was clear of my usual clutter—no stacks of books threatening to topple, no random bits of machinery, no stray pieces of clothing discarded wherever I had decided they belonged at the moment. The surfaces of my desk and nightstand gleamed, free of dust. My shelves were neatly arranged, and everything aligned in a way that made my usual chaos seem downright criminal in comparison.

But the thing that made my brows shoot up was my chemistry set.

Not only had the Doctor cleaned it—he had organized it.

Painstakingly.

Tiny labels were attached to each vial and container, meticulously handwritten because apparently, he wanted to make absolutely sure I knew what I was working with. He had even arranged everything alphabetically.

I blinked at it for a long moment. "You labeled my chemistry set?"

The Doctor perked up, puffing out his chest. "I most certainly did!"

I turned to look at him fully, unimpressed. "You labeled my chemistry set alphabetically."

"Indeed, I did." He beamed, pleased with himself.

I exhaled through my nose, turning back to look at the neatly labeled vials and organized containers. "That's... thorough."

"Well, someone had to do it," he said, hands on his hips as he stepped closer. "You really should have sorted it sooner. It's a safety hazard, you know. One day, you'd have reached for one thing and ended up with an entirely different—potentially explosive—substance, and then boom!"

I turned back to him, unimpressed. "I did have a system."

The Doctor scoffed. "A system? Please, that wasn't a system—that was an experiment in entropy." He shook his head dramatically. "I waited to see if you'd clean it up yourself, but when it became abundantly clear that you were never going to, I took matters into my own hands. And really, dearest, how you ever functioned with all that mess is beyond me."

I sighed, running a hand down my face before throwing up my hands in surrender. "Uhm, thanks?"

The Doctor practically lit up, smiling so wide I thought his face might split. "Of course, dearest!" He beamed, looking like a dog that had just been praised for fetching a ball.

I couldn't help but huff out a laugh, shaking my head as I fell back against the pillows.

Everything still ached, but in a good way. In a way that made the exhaustion feel earned.

The Doctor watched me for a moment before, with no warning, he flopped onto the bed beside me, landing on his stomach with a dramatic oof. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking at me with that infuriatingly charming grin.

He clicked his tongue. "So."

I turned my head lazily to meet his gaze. "So?"

"What'd you think about it?"

I furrowed my brows, glancing around. "My room? Oh, it's fine. I mean, anytime that I don't have to clean—"

"Not the room," he interrupted with a laugh, shaking his head. His eyes twinkled with something both mischievous and expectant. "Last night, well, not last night... the TARDIS doesn't have night and day... so, a few hours ago? I don't know... you fell asleep about three and half hours ago..." He explained.

I blinked, the realization hitting me in a delayed wave. My stomach twisted, warmth creeping up my neck.

I tilted my head at him, "So you've just been cleaning the whole time?" I asked.

The Doctor pouted and shook his head. "No," He denied. "I was able to doze off for a little while, and then I snuggled you—then I played chess against the TARDIS while cuddling you..." He motioned his head toward the television, and I realized that there was a game of chess showcasing the Doctor's loss against his ship still displayed. He spoke before I could comment on it. "And then I started cleaning your room...!"

"Oh," I laughed. "Well, I'm glad you kept busy... mister man-who-never-sleeps..."

"Har-har," He sarcastically laughed, but the smile on his face was real. "So, last night, dearest? Still waiting on that answer..."

"Well," I started, searching for words that didn't make me sound completely wrecked.

The Doctor raised a single brow, waiting.

I exhaled. "It was..." I trailed off, watching his face, the anticipation in his expression almost boyish.

"...Amazing," I admitted, my face heating.

His grin stretched impossibly wider.

"But," I added, clearing my throat, "I mean, it's sex with an ageless TimeLord—it better have been."

The Doctor's laugh was bright, delighted, like a boy who had just been told he was the best at something and was now preening over it. His grin stretched wide, nose scrunching as he squirmed excitedly on the mattress beside me, still clad in my robe. It gaped open more with the movement, exposing more of his lean chest and the dusting of freckles.

"Well, I should hope so," he huffed playfully, rolling onto his side and propping his head up with one hand, watching me like I was the most fascinating thing in the universe. "It would be rather embarrassing if a millennia's worth of knowledge didn't amount to anything in the bedroom or the mindroom..." His brows waggled.

I groaned, burying my face into the pillow. "Don't call it that."

"Oh? Would you prefer mental copulation? Psychic intimacy? Transcendental entanglement?" He ticked them off on his fingers. "No, no, wait—astral shagging! That's got a ring to it, doesn't it?"

I peeked out from the pillow, giving him an unimpressed look. "I will smother you with this pillow."

"You'd miss me." He grinned, utterly unrepentant.

"Not if you keep talking." I shifted slightly, wincing at the soreness that throbbed through my limbs. My entire body ached; I felt the exhaustion deep in my bones, which was a strange sensation considering I rarely ever got tired like this. My muscles had a dull, satisfied heaviness to them like I'd just run a marathon and done weight training at the same time.

The Doctor caught the movement, and in an instant, his teasing softened into something fond and knowing. He reached out, dragging the back of his knuckles down my bare shoulder, watching goosebumps rise in their wake.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, voice low and warm.

I huffed a laugh. "Like I got impaled by your sonic screwdriver."

"Ah, well in a way... you did..." He nodded sagely, trying to bite back a laugh, especially when I slapped his shoulder with a roll of my eyes. "Hopefully, it's not too bad?"

"No," I murmured, eyes slipping shut as his fingers trailed down my arm. "It's a rather nice feeling actually."

A comfortable silence settled between us, his touch grounding me, keeping me tethered even as my body still felt loose and boneless. The soreness aside, I felt good—better than good. It was like my soul had been shaken free, like I'd been cracked open and poured into something infinite, something that still lingered on the edges of my mind like the echo of a dream.

It was... like my soul was finally whole again.

My gaze flickered back to him, and I found him watching me closely, his lips slightly parted like he was about to say something but had gotten caught up in just... looking.

I arched a brow. "What?"

He blinked, then smiled, small and soft and so unlike his usual grins.

"Nothing," he said. "Just... you."

My heart did something weird.

I swallowed, shifting under the sheets. "You are so sappy."

The Doctor gasped, pressing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "How dare you. I am the furthest thing from sappy. I am a dignified, respectable TimeLord, thank you very much."

I smirked. "You're literally wearing my robe."

He glanced down, taking in the lacy black fabric draped over his frame.

"...A very dignified robe," he amended.

I laughed, shaking my head before stretching out with a groan, my limbs still trembling slightly from the exertion. The Doctor's eyes flicked down, briefly following the movement before snapping back up, meeting my gaze with something smug curling at the edges of his mouth.

"Well," he purred, "if you're this worn out, I must've done something right."

I rolled my eyes but didn't bother denying it. My body was still humming, and the pleasant ache settled deep in my muscles made it abundantly clear that—yeah—he'd done more than something right.

The Doctor grinned like he could hear my thoughts, which, honestly, with how ridiculous and ancient his telepathy was, I wouldn't put past him.

I mentally secured my secrets tighter, it was a miracle that he had not found something in the recess of my mind that I did not want him to witness. However, I was exceptionally good with tricks of the mind myself, especially when it came to defense and blocking out things I did not want people to see. Hence why he didn't see anything from me when our minds collided last night.

My offensive skills were; of course, weaker given I was not the complete Polaris Jade at the moment. Nevertheless, I was not too worried about the Doctor finding anything I did not want him to.

He was good with matters of the mind, but I was better.

The Doctor stayed watching me for a beat longer before shifting onto his back, letting out a pleased hum as he stretched.

Silence settled between us—not awkward, but full. The kind of silence that only exists when you're comfortable enough with someone to let the quiet breathe. I let my eyes flutter shut, exhaling slowly.

Then my brain helpfully reminded me of something that I had been meaning to ask about, something that—now that I had enough energy to process it properly—required immediate discussion.

I hesitated.

My eyes flicked open, glancing sideways at him.

"...Doctor..." I trailed off, trying to figure out how to ask the question delicately.

The Doctor raised a brow, side-eyeing me in return. "PJ."

I opened my mouth, then shut it. How was I supposed to word this? For once, I was trying to be careful with my words.

The Doctor clearly saw the hesitation written all over my face because his expression softened, amused but curious. "Yes, what is it, darling?"

I decided to just rip the bandage off.

"Why the fuck is your semen golden?"

The Doctor blinked. And then he blinked again—expression slowly turning into disbelief.

I continued before he could even begin to process the question. "Like, please tell me it's not mixed with piss or some wack alien bodily function you've developed in your old age because you came inside me twice and I swear to god if you have an STD—"

The Doctor gaped at me, face rapidly shifting between emotions—offended, flustered, outright indignant. "I—NO! Of course, it's not golden from piss! Let alone an STD, I'm a TimeLord! Are you kidding me?" His voice cracked on the last word, and I nearly lost it right then and there.

I held my hands up. "Well, tell me what else is yellow that comes out of a humanoid dick?"

The Doctor sputtered, flailing for a response before his face settled into something exasperated. "TimeLord ejaculation, obviously!"

I snorted.

He huffed, scrubbing a hand through his wild hair before regaining his composure. "My seminal fluid is mixed with excess regeneration energy," he explained, all business and science now. "Not enough to do you any harm or have any effects," he added quickly before smirking and reaching out, palm gliding along my stomach beneath the covers.

I shivered at the touch.

His fingers skimmed slow, warm, teasing. "Although," he continued, tone dropping to something dangerously pleased, "considering it's still inside of you..." His hand trailed lower, fingers ghosting past the very top of my most sensitive area.

I swallowed hard, thighs twitching.

Time for round three?

"You may find over the next few hours that you heal a bit faster than usual," The Doctor murmured.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, forcing myself to focus through the heat crawling up my spine. I smirked. "Ah, yes. My Doctor's a true healer with sparkly gold seminal fluid of healing... lovely."

The Doctor groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. "Shut up, dearest."

"Not a chance, Space Lord. You gave me that sparkly golden stuff!"

"Sparkly golden stuff..." He repeated in disbelief with a shake of his head, but his lips were twitching as he fought back a smile. "Gosh... stop trying to make it sound like an illness, dearest..." he blew a raspberry at the end.

I grinned before my expression faltered, a small frown tugging at my lips as something odd settled in my brain. A memory—not quite lost, but just out of reach.

I tried to grasp it, but the moment I did, it was gone.

How did he do it?

I was good with mind tricks—amazing at matters of the mind, at bending reality. The fact that the Doctor managed to give me his name and then take it away moments later is downright incredible. Although, I had no doubt that if I was the full force of the Polaris Jade, he would not have been able to make me forget.

Or maybe he would. I didn't real know.

I frowned deeper. "Wait..."

The Doctor's gaze flicked to me. "What is it?"

I sat up slightly, shaking my head. "I knew your name. Like, your proper real name... but now I don't."

His face shifted. Barely. A flicker of something in his eyes.

I looked at him, something heavy settling in my chest. "Why don't I remember it?"

"Because you don't need to know it..." He told me firmly with a deep swallow. "You accidentally saw it when our minds were conjoined, a complete accident..." he paused, eyes lighting up. "Although it did make the moment that much better, far more intimate," he added slyly before shaking his head with a frown. "But I managed to cloud it away last minute—it's far better that you don't know it..."

I frowned, irritation prickling at my skin. "Oh, come on..." I muttered, arms crossing over my chest.

The Doctor exhaled, already sensing where this was going. "Dearest—"

"No," I cut in, shaking my head. "I knew it, Doctor. I had it. And then you just—just took it back." I gestured vaguely at my head like I could somehow pluck it from the air and shove it back where it was. "I mean, c'mon! That's like—" I scoffed, searching for the right words before it hit me, sharp and bitter. "It's like a boyfriend proposing and then snatching the ring back minutes later. Like—'oops! Never mind!'"

His face softened. "It's not like that. You know that..."

"It feels like that."

The Doctor sighed, running a hand through his already disastrous hair. "I know it does," he admitted, voice lower now, sad. "And I am sorry, dearest. I really am." He shifted closer, resting his hand lightly on my arm. "Please don't be upset because it's not that I don't want you to know." He hesitated before continuing, his voice weighty. "My name comes with... consequences. To those who know it. It's why nearly nobody does, not anymore."

Something in the way he said it made my stomach knot.

He looked at me then, something deep and old and aching in his eyes. "If anything ever happened to you because of it—" He cut himself off, inhaling sharply. "PJ, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

I stared at him. The honesty in his voice, in his face, took all the fight out of me in an instant.

What is wrong with me?

I exhaled, looking down at the sheets, fingers twisting in the fabric.

The Doctor squeezed my arm before he continued, softer now. "My old name—my Gallifreyan name—it doesn't matter. Not to me." His lips curled slightly. "I'm the Doctor now. I like being the Doctor. That's my chosen name."

I swallowed, lifting my gaze back to his.

A smirk ghosted over his lips as his fingers trailed down my arm, slow and deliberate. "While I will admit," he murmured, "it was very nice hearing you cry out my old name—" He tilted his head, eyes darkening with suggestion. "And I'd certainly love to hear it again..." His smirk deepened. "It's just not worth it." He leaned in, voice dropping to a purr. "Especially when I love hearing you yell out 'Doctor' just as much."

Heat flared in my chest.

I scoffed, shoving him away lightly. "Oh, shut up."

He grinned, pleased.

I forced a breath, forcing the last of my irritation to drain away with it. Because... I was being ridiculous.

Who the fuck was I to get my feathers ruffled over something like this?

I had secrets too—way more secrets than he was holding from me at this point. Massive, reality-breaking secrets. And the Doctor... he had no clue.

Sure, there was probably far more things he hadn't told me simply because it hadn't come up in conversation, but the only thing he was actively hiding was his name.

My secrets were different, it was not like I just had not mentioned it because it hasn't come up. I was actively hiding these things from the Doctor.

Pretending like I was from his universe when I was not. Pretending that I am 100% human when I am not. Acting like I am 26 when I am 393. Allowing him to call me PJ without him realizing that it stood for so much more.

Guilt twisted in my gut.

I pressed my lips together, shoulders deflating. "I'm so sorry, I was being stupid," I muttered.

"No, you weren't," he said, surprising me.

I blinked at him.

He smiled, soft. "You knew something, something important, something personal and then it was gone. That hurts." His fingers brushed against mine. "I understand."

I swallowed, guilt tightening in my throat. Because no, he didn't understand.

Not really.

Because if he did—if he knew the truth—

I shook my head. No. Not now. Not yet.

The Doctor leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. His lips lingered for just a moment, warm against my skin. I smiled at him, tilting my head slightly into the touch.

BANG BANG BANG!

My door shook with all the force of a Scot as someone pounded on it from the other side.

"Oi! Is it time to go to Rio yet?" Amy's voice rang through the door, muffled but undeniably impatient. "We've been waiting for ages, we've already slept, had breakfast, and everything guys!"

The Doctor grinned as he looked at the door, shaking his head fondly. "Of course, Pond! Meet us in the console room!"

A loud yelp of excitement followed. "Finally!"

The Doctor's grin widened at the sound of her joy, and I could see the familiar spark of his own excitement stirring to life. It had been obvious to me that he was already growing restless—itching to be out, to be moving, to be exploring again. Even if we hadn't been in the TARDIS for that long, the Doctor was an adventurer by heart. And right now, his heart was screaming for somewhere, someplace—sometime—new.

He turned back to me, eyes alight. "C'mon, dearest," he murmured before suddenly yanking me from the bed.

I yelped, my body protesting the sudden movement. My muscles and bones ached from all we'd done, and my balance faltered. Before I could even process falling, I landed against his chest, and he caught me with ease, holding me steady.

"Sorry," He cringed, pressing a kiss to my forehead as he held me, his voice soft. "Can you walk?"

His eyes gleamed with genuine worry, flickering over my face, my body, as if checking for any signs of real injuries. It was almost funny—his sudden realization that he might've been too rough, that maybe throwing a human body into multiple rounds of frenzied, otherworldly passion had its consequences.

But, again—for the millionth time, not that he knows this, I am not human. Not completely, at least. I was fine.

I scoffed, pushing away from him to stand on my own. "Can you walk, old man?" I shot back sassily, placing my hands on my hips.

The Doctor's brows lifted, and his eyes raked over my still-bare form with a slow, appreciative sweep.

His gaze heated, and for a moment, I swore he was about to forget about Rio entirely.

Then, with a sharp shake of his head, he snapped himself out of it and pointed at me with a scolding snap of his fingers. "Right! Not now—later."

I smirked, fully aware he was talking about a third round.

"Rio. Right now." He clapped his hands together as if that would refocus him. "2020. Rio. Fun." He nodded, hyping himself up. "Okay. You, dearest—shower. Get dressed. Meet me in the console room."

He surged forward again, pressing another kiss to my forehead before stepping back, rubbing his hands together. "Me, the Doctor—I will also take a shower. In my own bedroom. Separate from you." He nodded firmly as if convincing himself. "And I will get dressed. In something other than your robe."

Yeah, I would hope so.

I raised a brow, arms crossing as I watched him physically force himself to move toward the door, his eyes still flickering back to me every other second, reluctant to leave.

"Right. Archaic. Sex is archaic and gross and messy..." he muttered to himself, nodding once more before turning on his heel and rushing out the door.

It clicked closed behind him and I was left alone in my newly clean bedroom.

"AH—MAN! Put some clothes on!"

I blinked, my hands coming up to cover my sniggering the sound of Rory's horrified voice from the corridor. He must've been passing by as soon as the Doctor walked out.

The Doctor's voice followed, completely unbothered. "Oi! It's just nudity, Rory! Besides, I'm in a robe!"

"That doesn't mean I want to see your alien junk, Doctor!" Rory snapped back. "Do you realize how thin that robe is, especially on you?"

The Doctor scoffed. "Of course, I realize how thin it is—it's the reason I bought it for PJ!"

"Too much information, Doctor!" Rory cried out.

The Doctor scoffed loudly. "Look away if you're embarrassed. I can walk around my ship naked if I want!"

I cackled, shaking my head as their arguing voices faded. Good to know that robe is apparently given to me by Ten at some point... because it's thin material, at that.

Turning back to the bed, I eyed the utterly destroyed sheets with a grimace before grabbing them to strip them off. These indeed should be brought to the incineration room—these were ruined to the point of no return.

Perhaps some towels are in order for next time, especially with the knowledge that the Doctor apparently cums regeneration energy.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

"That's what you're wearing to Rio?"

Amy's voice rang out the moment I stepped into the console room, her eyebrow arched as she took in my choice of attire.

I glanced down at myself, chewing the last bite of my breakfast sandwich. My usual patchy flight jacket rested over a fitted grey tank, tucked into dark, militaristic pants that did wonders for my backside. Heavy rocket boots boosted my height by a couple of inches, and a blaster was strapped securely to my thigh. My goggles sat atop my head, my Vortex Manipulator was snug on my wrist, and—most importantly—my backpack was strapped tight to my back. No way was I losing that.

I finished chewing and swallowed before responding. "Yep."

Amy gave me a look.

I smirked, jerking my head toward the console. "There is a 75% chance we're not going to end up in Rio with this guy behind the controls." I gestured toward the Doctor as I said it, then let my gaze flick to Amy's outfit—a pair of short shorts, a red tank top, and a thin leather jacket. Cute. But also... "With our luck, it'll probably be somewhere chilly."

Amy snickered, clearly unable to argue.

The Doctor, however, appeared from around the control panel with a deep scowl. "Oi!" He pointed accusingly at me. "We are going to Rio. Don't question my piloting!"

He wore his typical. Adorned in tweed with a bright red bow tie; hair floppy as ever and eyes round sparkling with adventure.

I rolled my eyes, hopping up the steps before dropping onto one of the jump seats. "Not questioning anything, old man."

Amy snorted, while Rory—who was leaning against the railing nearby—gave me a knowing look. Unlike his fiancé, he wasn't taking any chances. Dressed in jeans, a flannel, and a puffer vest, it was obvious he didn't trust the Doctor's navigation skills either.

Smart man.

However, the truth of the matter was that it was rarely the Doctor's navigational skills that were the issue and rather the lovely TARDIS having a spicy personality. Not that I was complaining, it only made it that much more fun.

A sly smirk crept onto Amy's face as she crossed her arms. "So..." she drawled, eyes flicking between me and the Doctor. "Busy night?"

The Doctor, who had been adjusting a few switches on the console, immediately froze. "What?"

Amy's smirk widened. "Oh, don't play dumb, Doctor. When I came knocking on your door last night, it was pretty obvious what you two were up to..." She waggled her eyebrows. "Although, I will admit I thought you were celibate."

I raised a brow. "Him—celebate?" I repeated in disbelief before throwing my head back with a loud barking laugh.

I heard the Doctor guffaw in embarrassment.

Amy nodded, laughing at my actions. "Oh yeah, and then this morning when Rory ran into the Doctor in your robe—"

Rory groaned loudly, rubbing his face with both hands. "Ugh, don't remind me, that was disgusting."

Amy burst into laughter. "Caught him red-handed, he did."

The Doctor had gone bright red. "I—no! That is—there was no 'red-handed' anything!" He cleared his throat, gesturing wildly as he tried to compose himself. "I was merely sitting in a chair, reading, while PJ slept. That's it! She likes the company!"

Amy squinted at him like she could see through the very fabric of his soul. "Oh really?"

"Yes!" The Doctor declared with a dramatic sweep of his arms. "Just a dignified TimeLord, passing the time with a good book while my human friends sleep!"

Amy didn't buy it for a second. "Well then, why don't you do that for me and Rory?"

Before the Doctor could even attempt an answer, Rory spoke up immediately. "Because I wouldn't let him. Him just sitting in our room reading while we sleep? That is so weird!"

The Doctor jerked his head toward Rory with a victorious smirk. "See? That's why."

"Oi!" Amy smacked Rory's arm, rolling her eyes. "Stop giving him an out!"

Rory just shrugged.

I decided to put them all out of their misery. "We fucked," I said bluntly. "For the first time. And it was really, really good—"

"PJ!" The Doctor yelped, spinning toward me so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.

I shrugged, completely unbothered. "What? I thought you weren't embarrassed by that stuff!"

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again before finally answering, "By nudity—not by talking about our personal sex life!"

"I really don't need to hear this—" Rory started, only for Amy to slap a hand over his mouth.

"I like hearing about it," She said brightly. "PJ, continue..."

"PJ!" The Doctor pointed at me, eyes pleading. "Do not continue!" He groaned, running a hand down his face before shaking his head. "Tell Amy when it's just you two having... girly talk, but right now—let's focus on something else!" He clapped his hands together. "Rio! Yes, Rio! Exciting! Fun! Sun, beaches, and—oh look at that, it's time to fly!"

He all but launched himself at the controls, spinning a few dials and pulling the main lever. The TARDIS thrummed to life beneath our feet, the Time Rotor pulsing.

"Ah, Rio de Janeiro," The Doctor began, falling into one of his usual quirky old-man monologues, desperate to change the subject. "One of the most vibrant cities on Earth! Known for its carnival celebrations, breathtaking beaches, Christ the Redeemer—"

And then the TARDIS lurched violently.

"Oh no—" I gripped the edges of my seat as the ship rocked.

"Doctor!" Amy cried, holding onto the railing for dear life as Rory stumbled into her.

"We're fine!" The Doctor shouted over the noise, flipping switches frantically as the TARDIS continued to buck and twist. "Just a bit of turbulence! Completely normal! Happens all the time!"

The TARDIS groaned, lights flickering wildly.

I yelled, my grip tightening as we were nearly thrown sideways.

The Doctor grinned. "Oh come on, where's your sense of adventure? Just hold on—"

With a final, jarring thud, the TARDIS stopped.

Everything went silent except for the soft hum of the engines.

Amy cautiously loosened her death grip on the railing. "Did we make it?"

The Doctor straightened his bow tie, grinning as he adjusted a few settings on the monitor. "Of course we did! Come along, Ponds and PJ!"

I narrowed my eyes but hopped out of the chair, following after Rory who was following Amy who was skipping after the TimeLord. It was like a little row of ducks following the Doctor, each person getting consistently less excited.

If he did land us in Rio in 2020, I would turn around and change into a bikini, but everything in me was telling me that we were nowhere near Rio de Janeiro.

My thoughts were proven correct as the Doctor breathed deeply, muttering what sounded like a plea under his breath and dramatically sweeping the doors open with an excited flourish and happy smile.

"Behold!" He said dramatically, arms wide as he stepped out of the TARDIS. "RIO!"

Amy, Rory, and I stepped out right after him.

My mouth fell open and my eyes dimmed in disbelief at the cold graveyard we'd landed in. Based on our surroundings, I knew we were on Earth, and upon checking my Vortex Manipulator, the glitchy screen clearly indicated where we were.

MILKY WAY
THE SOLAR SYSTEM
EARTH
GREAT BRITAIN
SOUTH WALES
2020

You have got to be fucking kidding me.