supernova (11th doctor)

Amy's Choice (pt 3)

We all woke up on the floor of the TARDIS where we left off, sitting up. Amy clutched the blanket she had. "Ah, it's colder."

The Doctor frantically buttoned his jacket. "The four of us have to agree, now, which is the dream."

"It's this, here." Rory stated without missing a beat.

Amy shrugged. "He could be right. The science is all wrong here, burning ice?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, no, no ice can burn, sofas can read, it's a big universe. We have to agree which battle to lose. All of us, now!"

"Okay, which do you think is real?" Amy asked.

"This one."

"Me too," I added.

"No, the other one!" Rory fought back.

The Doctor pointed to Rory. "Yeah, but are we disagreeing, or competing?"

"Competing over what?" Amy asked, lost.

The Doctor and Rory stared at her, and she groaned as she stood up again, realizing their point. I stood up with her.

The Doctor checked his watch. "Nine minutes till impact," he announced as he stood up.

"What temperature is it?" Amy asked, throwing off the blanket and going to look for something else.

"Outside? Brrr," The Doctor shivered. "How many noughts have you got? Inside? I don't know but I can't feel my feet and... other parts."

"I think all my parts are basically fine." Rory stated coldly.

I glared at them. They were competing over everything, which was just what the Dream Lord wanted. "Seriously?"

Rory went over to the console and took the wall phone from it. "Can't we call for help?"

The Doctor took the phone from him. "Yeah, the universe is really small-- bound to be someone nearby!" The Doctor tapped Rory on the head with the phone before hanging it back up.

"Stop it!" I stood between them. "This, you two fighting, is exactly what the Dream Lord wants. And it doesn't even matter anyway, because it's not like you can control which is real."

The boys looked at me apologetically, when Amy threw ponchos at us. "Put these on, all of you." She threw one at the Doctor and I, and slipped the other one over Rory's head herself.

Rory looked down at himself. "Oh, a poncho—the biggest crime against fashion since lederhosen."

Amy put hers on. "Here we go! Our boys... our poncho boys." She grabbed my hand and moved over so we stood between them. "If we're going to die, let's die looking like a Peruvian folk band."

She looked on fiercely at the cold star getting closer to us in the monitor, and I was the only one who let out a small chuckle at her comment.

"We're not going to die," Rory stated, even though he didn't sound like he believed himself. He just had to keep trying.

"No, we're not," the Doctor checked his watch. "But our time's running out. If we fall asleep here, we're in trouble." The Doctor began pacing. "If we could divide up, then we'd have an active presence in each world, but the Dream Lord is switching us between the worlds. Why, why, what's the logic?"

The Dream Lord appeared in a poncho beside the Doctor, and paced with him. "Good idea, veggie, let's divide you all up, so I can have a little chat with our lovely girls. Maybe I'll keep them, and you can have Pointy Nose to yourself for all eternity, should you manage to clamber aboard some sort of reality."