A/N: Okay, technically I've taken a leave of fanfiction for a while. But I've been really getting into Doctor Who recently, and after my sister mentioned an idea about one or more doctors meeting, I just had to write something. I love stories where more than one Doctor meets. They're hilarious.

So, this is my very very first Doctor Who fanfiction. Enjoy!

The Doctor hummed something that sounded like Beethoven's fifth symphony as he cracked an egg into the sizzling pan. As soon as he was done with that, he whirled around to face the opposite direction, endangering his tweed jacket to the flames of the stove in the process, to poor a pot of tea. He whirled around once again to face the stove, and tossed in a helping of bacon and cheese to the cooking egg. Before the omelet was fully cooked, he had moved on from Beethoven's symphony to 'I Gotta Feeling' by the Black Eyed Peas. Halfway through, he started singing in French.

It was onto this scene, a scene of a bow-tied, tweed-clad Doctor, singing pop music in French and cooking an omelet and arranging a plate of tea simultaneously with a questionable amount of attention paid to either, that a very confused Amy Pond emerged. She was in a crinkled nighty, and her hair looked as though she'd slept in a wind tunnel.

"I hate that song." She growled in her morning voice, squinting around the warmly lit room. She wasn't aware that the TARDIS had a kitchen, but it was logical, she supposed. It looked near enough to a normal kitchen. Stove, cupboards, sink, countertops, pots, pans, and… Wait, was that an Italian pizza oven? Amy had just enough time to spot the giant fondue fountain hiding in the corner before the Doctor spoke.

"You are a cheery one." He said, not looking up as he stirred in a helping of what might have been mayonnaise into his omelet. "Good morning, by the way." He turned to face her for a split second before he darted into what looked like a pantry. It must've been larger than it looked, because there was a good deal of crashing, rummaging, and long footsteps before he re-emerged. He was chewing something when he extended a small tin towards Amy. "Jammy dodger?"

"Doctor, it's four in the morning, why on earth are you…" She stopped to frown at him and peer at the strange hat that was now perched on his head. "Are you wearing a toque?" She asked incredulously.

He didn't hesitate. "Yes. Helps me get in the mood." He quickly darted back over to his pan, tossing the tin onto a counter. He swallowed his pastry before continuing. "Besides. Toques are cool."

Amy resisted the urge to impale her forehead on her palm at this annoying tagline. Spotting a small dining set, she plopped down in a chair and laid her head down on the tabletop. She considered glaring at the altogether too cheerful vase of alien flowers, but then again, it wasn't really worth the effort.

A few minutes later, the Doctor strode towards the table with a tray of tea, pastries, and two omelets. Amy took hers with a small 'thanks' and sipped at some tea while she tried to wake up. As the caffeine in the tea slowly made its way to her brain, something odd registered and she looked up to the Doctor, who was sitting across from her.

"You're eating bacon."

The Doctor, mid bite, looked up curiously. "What?"

"Bacon. There's bacon in your omelet." She pointed.

He looked down at it. "So I am." He took a moment, staring at the little bits of meat. "What of it?" He finally asked her.

She tilted her head. "You hate bacon. You can't stand it. When I cooked you bacon all those years ago at my house, you thought I was trying to poison you."

He lifted his head in an 'aha' moment. "Oh, yes. Hmm. Well," he glanced down at his dish, "It's a bit different when it's surrounded by egg and mayonnaise and pepper."

"So you like bacon?"

"Well, yes. No – but… Yes at the same time – in a manner of speaking." He shoveled some more omelet into his mouth.

She looked confused. "But you said you hated it."

"Well…" He gestured vaguely, as if searching for words.

"Wait a minute," Amy's eyes grew angry. "You're saying you don't like my cooking, aren't you?" Her voice rose in volume.

The Doctor looked surprised. "What? No. No no no no no, you've gotten it all wrong, Pond. What I meant was-"

But Amy wouldn't have it. "You think I'm a bad cook, don't you? Well, Chef Bow-Tie, let me tell you that a seven-year-old usually isn't the best bet for a five-star meal, much less when a raggedy old alien comes slamming into her kitchen and spits yogurt all over the floor-"

"Amy, that's not what I meant-"

"And rejects every single bit of food that he asks for, and-"


Their argument was cut off suddenly by a loud, distant bang. It echoed down the TARDIS corridors, and both the time lord and his companion shut up immediately, forgetting their bickering. The Doctor's head perked up as he peered at the door, as if he could see right through it.

"From the console room." He said matter-of-factly, and rose from his seat. "A big banging thing in the console room that isn't my TARDIS. Hmmm." He paused to stare into space for a moment. Amy rose slowly from her seat.

"Doctor, what do you think that-" But before she could answer,

"Come along, Pond!" He grabbed her hand and darted out of the door. "Time to catch ourselves a big bad banging thing!" He had to hold down his toque to keep it from flying off.

Amy stumbled after him. As they tore down the winding hallways, she was reminded of a hyperactive five-year-old dragging his mother along to see something big and shiny that had captivated his attention. Amy glanced up at the Doctor, whose floppy bangs and toque put him at least twelve centimeters taller than her. Alright, a very tall five-year-old, who was actually rather ancient and infinitely cleverer than her, but a five-year-old nevertheless.

A few steps away from the door to the console room, the Doctor dropped Amy's hand and charged ahead by himself. He might have said 'wait here', but Amy honestly couldn't remember. She tried to peer around the doorway, but she couldn't see anything. She heard the Doctor say from inside the room,

"Blimey! Time for this already?"

Frowning, Amy followed him into the room. She entered just as another, unfamiliar voice said,

"Sorry, do I know you?"

She walked onto the console platform, and felt suddenly self conscious of her nighty and bed hair when she spotted two newcomers - a quirky looking fellow with strange hair and a flustered redheaded woman who stood beside him. She had absolutely no idea who they were, much less how they managed to get inside the TARDIS, but they both appeared to be just as confused as she was.

"Yes, you do." The Doctor told the funny-haired man, "Well, actually, you don't. But you do at the same time. It's a complicated thing, really. You know me, but you don't really know… Me. Does that make sense?"

The man looked at him with calculating expression. He looked as though he was on the verge of a revelation, when he shook his head. "No, actually."

The Doctor scoffed with a strange smile. "Oh, come on, you're cleverer than that. Think about it." He waited a moment, but when he got no reply, he sighed and ran around the console to check the dials.

"Hmmm… Where were you headed? You know, it's not very nice to ram someone else's TARDIS mid-flight. I mean, two TARDISes colliding is downright disastrous. But one single TARDIS doubling back and ramming itself? That is most definitely very not good. I suppose we'll have to do something or other to stop it from going boom… And anyway, it creates a jolly good racket when it happens. My omelet is probably cold by now." He eventually ended up so that he was facing the newcomers again, and when he spotted the redhead, he broke into a huge smile.

"Oh, Donna Noble! It's so good to see you again! He rushed over and squeezed her shoulders affectionately. Then, he ran over to fiddle with the TARDIS' door. As he did, the whole console room seemed to flicker for a few seconds, from what Amy recognized as the interior of the console room to a more industrial, older looking room with the same attributes.

"Hmm." The Doctor muttered. "It does seem to have rammed itself quite badly. Ah well, I'm sure things will work out without too big of a boom. Quite sure, actually, so long as I'm remembering things correctly."

The whole time he went on, the man with the funny hair had been watching him with growing interest. Now, a strange, almost disturbed smile was growing on his face, and he was about to say something, when his redheaded companion leaned over and asked him,

"Doctor, what in the blazes is goin' on?"

Amy, who had been watching the situation from the console, finally voiced her confusion. "Doctor?" She repeated incredulously, eyeing the redhead with suspicion. She looked over to the Doctor. "This woman knows you?" She asked him.

He looked at her, then at Donna. "Yes. No. Yes and no."

Amy rolled her eyes. "You've said that a lot today."

The Doctor ignored her. "I know her, but she knows… Well, she knows me," he pointed towards the funny-haired man, "but not me." He pointed to himself. He strode over to stand just in front of the man with the funny hair, and grinned cheekily.

"Figure it out yet, Doctor?"

The other man stared back at him blankly for a moment. Then,

"I'm wearing a toque."

The Doctor peered up around his bangs to the white chef's hat. "So you are." He removed the headwear and tossed it nonchalantly at Amy.

"And a bowtie." The man continued.

The Doctor looked the least bit offended. "Bowties are cool." He said, adjusting the red knot at his throat. The TARDIS console emitted a trill and the Doctor darted over to pull a lever that quieted the noise.

"I don't know 'bout everyone else here," Donna said, looking rather annoyed, "But I want someone to explain what's goin' on."

Amy stepped forward to lean on one of the rails by the console. "I wouldn't mind hearing an explanation as well," she said, tossing the Doctor's toque at him. "Doctor?" she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

The Doctor looked over to, well, the Doctor, and either version shrugged at his past and future self, respectively. Eventually, the one with the spiky hair nodded in the direction of the one in the tweed jacket.

"You seem to know more about this situation than I do," He said.

The bow-tied Doctor shrugged. "Right then." He clapped his hands together. "Well, first, introductions. Doctor, I'd like you to meet Amelia Pond. Pond, this is the Doctor." Amy was about to ask the obvious question, but he shushed her by placing his hand over her mouth. "And this," He gestured to the redhead standing by his past self, "is Donna Noble. Donna, this is Amelia Pond."

Amy smacked the Doctor's hand away. "Call me Amy." She said, glaring at the Doctor. "And how can he be the Doctor? You're the Doctor!" She turned to him with her arms crossed.

Bowtie smiled at her. "I am the Doctor. So is he. Think of him as… The Tenth Doctor."

"But… You, the Doctor, are the only time lord. You said so yourself."

Bowtie winced at that. "Yes, I did. And I am. So is he." He pointed again to the Tenth Doctor.

Amy shook her head rapidly with her eyes closed, trying to wrap her head around his insane logic. Donna seemed to be having similar trouble.

Ten eventually came to the rescue. "We're the same person," he told the two redheads, "but at different times in our timestream." He turned to Donna. "He is a future version of me. Alternatively, I,"

"Am a past version of me," the Bowtie Doctor finished. Ten looked over at him and nodded. "Which one are you, by the way?"

Bowtie squinted at him. "Doesn't that ruin the surprise?"

"Not really. I knew this one was coming all the way back at five."

Bowtie tilted his head. "Hmm. So you did. Touché. Very well, then." He made a vague circling motion around his face. "Eleventh."

Ten seemed just the tiniest bit disappointed. "Aw, I was hoping for something ginger next time around." He paused, then added, "No offense."

"None taken." Eleven reassured him. He touched his hair sadly. "I was rather hoping for ginger, too." He glanced up at Ten. "Ah well. Sooner or later, I swear I'll be ginger." He paused for a moment, then amended, "but not too soon, I hope."

Ten glanced at Donna and Amy in turn, taking in the fact that both of them had bright red hair. "It's just not fair." He lamented. Eleven glanced over at him in sympathy.

"I know." He looked over at his two traveling companions. "Torture, really. Everyone's ginger but me," he sighed.

Amy and Donna shared a look of confusion. Then, "Doctor!" Amy broke into their conversation. Ten and Eleven both turned at the question.

"What?" They said in unison.

Amy's mouth twitched in annoyance. She marched down from the console and jabbed her index finger at Eleven's bowtie. "Explain to me, in simpler terms, how he can be you, and you can be him, and yet you look nothing alike."

"Well," Eleven started, carefully removing Amy's hand from the vicinity of his throat, "You see, time lords have this way of cheating death. A sort of… trick. Whenever we, er, I get right to the brink of death, I can do this thing - it's called regeneration - where I completely change every last cell in my body. It keeps me alive, but I end up looking completely different. New face, new body, new personality… But all the same memories." He paused to make sure she was following his train of thought. "As you know me, I've regenerated ten times – so this," he gestured to himself, "is my eleventh incarnation. He," he gestured to Ten, "is my tenth incarnation."

"Wait," Donna broke in, coming closer to get a better look at Eleven. "You're saying that you're Alien Boy?" She absently poked Ten's shoulder.

Eleven nodded his head. "Yes. In a manner of speaking. You know, I was never really sure about that nickname. Kind of demeaning, really." He looked at his past self and they shared a look.

Donna was laughing. "You are, though!" She looked over at the Tenth Doctor. "Oh, this is rich. Doctor, I never knew you fancied tweed!"

Ten cleared his throat. "I don't." He said with mustered dignity. "He does." He jerked his head at Eleven. "If you couldn't tell, fashion sense changes with each regeneration."

"What, from weird to weirder?" Donna unsuccessfully hid a snort. Amy laughed with her.

"You should have seen the fez." She said.

Ten looked alarmed. "A fez? I haven't had a fez since that football game back during Eight. Please tell me you're joking."

Amy smiled at him. "Sorry. Can't promise you that."

Eleven looked miffed. "Fezzes are cool." He insisted. "Besides, you think this is bad," Eleven looked at Donna, "You should have seen my sixth incarnation. That jacket…" Both Ten and Eleven shivered.

"Oh really? I'd love to see it." Amy said deviously.

Eleven cleared his through and ignored her. His voice grew more serious. "You know, I do love a good long chat, but there is something here that we should all be concerned about but no one has mentioned." He said.

Ten frowned, catching on immediately. "Too true. What was it again? 'Bout the size of Belgium."

Eleven nodded. "Precisely. Come give me a hand, will you?"

Ten shrugged. "Lucky I grew it back, eh?" He smiled at his own joke and jogged up to the console. He frowned as he surveyed the new controls. "Oh, my poor TARDIS! What have you done to her? The controls… They're all so… Shiny. And… new. And… Colorful." He seemed put out.

Eleven flipped a few switches and swung the monitor around. "Poor girl went through a bit of trouble a while back… A bit of down time for regeneration."

Ten pouted. "But I like the coral theme." He protested.

Eleven smiled at him encouragingly. "Oh, don't worry. She has a good long run, that one. I miss her, a bit. But all things have to change from time to time." He looked around his ship. "Besides, for however colorful she is now, she'll always have the same heart."

Ten nodded, somewhat consoled, and petted the new levers and controls experimentally. A sudden jerk of the TARDIS threw everyone off balance and broke the Doctor out of his reverie.

"Doctor!" Donna yelled in alarm.

"Right," Ten said, "That'll be Belgium. Same thing as last time?"

"Continuous internal explosion cancellation, yes. Then you and Donna will have to be off, I'm afraid."

Ten nodded. "That's alright. Ready?" He looked up at his future self. The TARDIS shook.

Eleven smiled and darted around to the other side of the console and started pressing buttons. "Geronimo!"

Amy and Donna glanced at each other as they held on to the railing to keep their balance.

"Geronimo?" Donna asked.

Amy just shook her head with a smile.

After a moment or two, the TARDIS seemed to be stabilized, and Eleven lunged over to flip up a lever.

"No Titanic repeats!" He cried, sending up the shields. "That was a right nightmare."

"You're telling me." Ten said, running a hand through his wild hair. He then paused as he realized that he was flickering. "Well that was quick." He glanced over at Donna and saw that she was flickering slightly as well. He darted to her and took her hand. "Allons-y, Donna! Back to the TARDIS. Well, my TARDIS, that is. Lovely meeting you, Doctor! And you, Amelia."

"It's Amy." Amy insisted with a smile.

Ten frowned. "Oh, but Amelia's a brilliant name."

Eleven gave his companion a meaningful nudge. "That's what I said."

"Well, he's you too, so it doesn't count." Amy insisted. She turned and waved at Ten, who was fading from sight. "Nice meeting you too, er, Doctor." She said.

Donna waved. "Like the bowtie, Alien Boy."

Eleven smiled, just a twinge of sadness in his eyes. "Take care of yourself, Donna Noble. It's been good to see you again."

There was a silent pause as the pair flickered away, but just before they were gone, Eleven's eyes shot wide open. "Wait!" He said, and flashed over to the console. He flicked a switch, and Ten faded back into view with Donna.

Eleven rushed over and pulled Ten aside. "One more thing," he said, his eyes growing suddenly serious, "When you meet Amelia Pond," He whispered so that only his past self would hear, "Make sure you…" He paused. In that moment, he was incredibly tempted to instruct his past self to make sure that it was five minutes. Not six months, not twelve and two years. But for however much he wanted to, he found himself unable to say it. He'd been through this whole thing already, and he knew that that wasn't how things worked out. How different Amelia's childhood would have been, he would never know. He couldn't know, because he never told his past self differently. He made a small choking noise in his throat before saying, "Make sure you're wearing that one tie," he finished lamely, "The one with the blue swirls on it."

Ten blinked, his eyebrows contorting in a confused fashion. It was an expression that Eleven remembered well. Obviously, Ten was confused that his future self would make such an odd request with such a gravely serious countenance. "Right." Ten said, nodding. "I'll make sure I am." But Eleven knew that he wasn't completely convinced.

Smiling, Eleven backed away. "Right. Well. You'd best be off, Doctor."

"Of course, Doctor. Nice to meet you, by the way – I suppose I'll see you later."

"Oh, you will – in the mirror." Eleven smiled. "Until then." He flipped a switch, and the Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble begun fading once again. Amy stood by the Doctor and watched the Doctor – the Tenth Doctor – and his companion fade away until they were completely gone. The TARDIS lurched one last time, and then everything returned to normal.

The Doctor turned to Amy. "My omelet will be freezing by now." He pouted and started off towards the kitchen.

Amy turned to follow him. "What did you tell him, your past self?" She asked.

The Doctor pivoted on his heel to look at her, slightly surprised. After a moment of hesitation, he shrugged. "Just what he told me the first time around." Supposing this was a sufficient answer, he turned back around and started walking.

"And what, exactly, did he tell you?" Amy crossed her arms.

The Doctor halted. He thought for a moment. He couldn't tell her. He hadn't been through this before, but he knew he couldn't tell her what he'd said – or rather what he hadn't said. There was a silence, before he finally said, "Come along, Pond. Omelets may freeze, but there are still jammy dodgers to be had." He continued walking towards the kitchen.

Amy squinted, regarding him. She knew he wasn't telling her the whole truth. "But then I wouldn't need you to trust me," she remembered him telling her once. She sighed. She didn't like him keeping secrets, but then again, everyone had their own personal secrets. The Doctor was no different, it seemed.

Well, the Eleventh Doctor, at any rate.

With the vast amount of information she'd learned that morning, Amy decided that there were better things to interrogate her Doctor on than what he'd told a past self.

"You know, I'd still like to see that jacket you were talking about…" She said, running to catch up with him. He groaned.

"No, no, and no. Not happening."

"Oh, come on, Eleven." Amy grabbed his arm charmingly in an attempt to persuade him. "I'll let that comment about my cooking slide if you show me that jacket," she smiled. He glared down at her.

"I never even made a comment about your cooking to begin with. You did"

She sighed. "Okay… I'll let you buy a fez," she tried hopefully.

He scoffed. "No you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would, if you let me see the jacket."




"Would – with a great gold tassel on the top."

He sighed and looked away. After a moment, he said, "Jammy dogers first. Jacket later."

"Yes!" Amy gave a small celebratory dance and followed him into the kitchen.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, muttering, "Next she'll be asking about that ridiculous scarf…"

"Oh, a scarf as well? Make it two fezzes, then."

The Doctor sighed and shook his head as he turned away to make tea.

"Heaven help us if you ever meet any of my other selves."

Just then, a gigantic bang sounded from the console room.

"Oh, well that's just fantastic!" A distant, Northern-sounding voice exclaimed.

Amy's eyes darted over to the Doctor. "What – who – is that?" She asked.

He swallowed hard and wondered how long it would take Amy to get over his leather jacket.

"Heaven help us."