There was a frantic pounding on the front door. Sarah turned to her supercomputer in the attic.
The computer whirred and dinged. "Scans indicate it is the Doctor."
Sarah's eyes grew wide, she hastily shut down the computer and ran down the stairs. The pounding never stopped, quick and frantic.
She threw open the front door to see the latest Doctor standing there, floppy hair, bow tie, and a desperate look on his young face.
"Sarah! I need your help!"
"Anything. What do you need?"
"How do you make French toast?"
She didn't ask. Didn't hesitate. "You use eggs, milk, butter and bread. Wisk the eggs and milk together, add a sprinkle of salt and pepper, heat the butter in a skillet, dip the bread in the eggs and fry it in the butter."
He nodded, point for point. "Can you show me?" He wrung his hands frantically. "I already destroyed the Tardis kitchen twice, too much sulfur in the eggs I think."
She grabbed his hand and dragged him into the kitchen. She started pulling ingredients out of the fridge. "What do you need this for? What's happening?" she asked. It could be alien invasion, or deadly danger, or...
"I want to make my wife breakfast in bed."
She stopped digging in the fridge and stood up, milk carton in hand. "You're married?"
He nodded, looking at her with big eyes. "Is that okay?"
"Is that okay?" She shrieked and grabbed him, bouncing up and down. He bounced with her.
She pulled back, smiling hugely. "You're married. You got married!" She squeezed him again. She pulled back. "Who is it? Do I know her? Is it Rose?"
He shook his head. "No, Rose is with me in another universe." He stopped and looked at her. "You have met my metacrisis haven't you?" he checked.
She smiled and nodded, silky brown hair bobbing like it always had. She went back to assembling ingredients.
"He stayed with her in her father's universe." She could tell it still made him a bit sad.
Then he perked up, his eyes glowed. He could always do that, change on a dime. "No, I've known River for a couple hundred years. We just got married recently, this is our honeymoon, we had our wedding night last night. And I wanted to do something nice for her, but I keep blowing up the kitchen!" He flung his arms out in exasperation.
She grinned at him over her shoulder. "Kitchen duty was never your best thing," she commented, eyes twinkling.
"Oy! I've gotten better! It's just, I'm all fingers this morning." He twiddled his fingers irritably at her.
She placed a skillet on the stove. "Won't she have woken up by now?"
"No," he scratched his nose. "I put the Tardis in temporal stasis so she wouldn't wake up before I was ready." He looked up at her sheepishly through his baby eyebrows.
It was so strange to see the Doctor being bashful. It wasn't really his thing. But it was totally adorable. She couldn't wait to meet the woman who pulled that out of him.
"In that case," she turned and brandished a spatula at him, "we will make her the best breakfast she's ever had."
His eyebrows lifted in hope, he stood up straighter. Then he frowned a bit. "You can't do it for me," he said. "I've got to do it myself."
Her heart melted a little. It was so strange, yet strangely wonderful to see the Doctor acting like an unsure, lovesick boy. An odd reversal. But she'd been blessed with lots of young people in her life recently.
"In that case, we'll make two breakfasts. I'll make one to show you how, then you make your wife's."
He nodded. She just smiled at him for another second then gave him another impulsive hug, spatula still in hand. "You're married. I can't believe it." She pulled back. "I'm glad you came to me for help."
He shrugged. "Who else would I go to?"
She cocked her head. "The Brigadier?"
He gave her a look. "Really?"
She thought about it, then started snickering. "Maybe not."
She showed him how to prepare the French toast, how to garnish it with a sprig of parsley, then taught him how to cut strawberries into little flowers for that added touch of color and sweetness.
Naturally, her kitchen ended up a mess. Flour everywhere, somehow bacon and pancakes had become involved. She'd tried to explain that with French toast they didn't really need pancakes, but he said he wanted River to have everything. Everything she needed.
"She's a warrior, she's got a good appetite," he said. He licked his thumb, then carefully poured maple syrup over the pancakes in the shape of two linked hearts.
"And, she's not asleep in the Tardis," a husky voice said from the doorway.
They both whipped around. Sarah didn't notice the line of syrup that splayed across her jumper. Her mouth fell open.
She didn't know what she'd been expecting. But it wasn't this.
A woman stood in her kitchen doorway, the most gorgeously seductive woman she'd ever seen, wearing a rainbow colored silk caftan, a tousled explosion of golden curls, and looking like she'd just tumbled out of bed. She was also holding a large laser blaster in the hand propped against the door jamb.
"Sweetie?" the woman said, surveying the hazard of the kitchen, and the strange woman her husband was cavorting with the morning after her wedding night. "Did you really think the Tardis would keep me asleep? You know she likes me better than you."
The Doctor's mouth fell open, he made little panicked, helpless sounds, looking back and forth from the breakfast tray, to his wife, to the messy kitchen, as his plans fell apart around him.
Sarah jumped into the breech. "You must be River." Sarah walked forward with one hand out, placing herself between the Doctor and the woman. "I'm Sarah Jane Smith. I'm pleased to meet you."
The woman's eyes jumped to her at the mention of her name. She lowered the gun and transferred it to her other hand. She smiled, suddenly, even more breathtaking. "Doctor River Song."
River saw the woman's eyes flick back toward the Doctor, who was still making helpless noises. "No, I didn't take his name. I'm a doctor in my own right. Archeology." She shook the woman's hand.
Then abruptly found herself hugged. It surprised her, but it felt like such a happy hug that she returned it.
The woman stepped back, River quickly cataloged her features, an older woman with life on her face, laugh lines around her eyes, silky brown hair, and an indefinable youngness about her. She knew this was one of the Doctor's oldest friends.
Abruptly that rather puckish face flicked her eyes back toward the Doctor, where he couldn't see. The brown haired woman stared at her with a lot of old meaning, and care. "Thank you," she mouthed, silently.
River needed no translation. She knew what it was to worry about the Doctor. As the Doctor turned away and bumbled behind them, she nodded back. She looked down at this woman who had been one of the most important people in the Doctor's life.
"Thank you," she mouthed back silently.
"River, look," the Doctor barged between them with a tray. "I made you breakfast!"
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