Work Text:
"We're flying through an aurora storm," the Doctor shouted over the din.
The TARDIS shook and shimmied. Struggling to stay on her feet, Amy caught a glimpse of the monitor, which showed a shimmer of swirling light.
"Is that going to be a problem?" Rory called from across the room.
"No!" Then the Doctor appeared to reconsider. "I don't think so?"
"I should hope not," Amy called, and then the room re-oriented and she fell sideways. "Oof!"
"Excellent," the Doctor said, pulling himself to standing and then offering Amy and Rory each a hand. "Shall we?"
"And where are we, exactly?"
The Doctor threw open the TARDIS door with a flourish. "Where do you think?"
Mountains. Forest. Evergreens tipped with snow.
"Someplace cold," Amy offered.
"Switzerland?" Rory guessed.
"Better," the Doctor promised. "Far more interesting. Come on, Ponds!"
"I'm looking for a coat," Amy protested, rummaging through the cupboard until she found two which would serve. She knew better than to suggest the Doctor needed one, but she did grab the long knitted scarf.
"D'you really think it's 'me'?" The Doctor sounded dubious.
"It's cold out," Amy said firmly.
"Off we go!" The Doctor leapt out of the door and into knee-deep snow, then strode off into the woods.
"I don't suppose he told you where we're headed," Rory muttered, sotto voce.
"And spoil the surprise?" Amy and Rory shared a fond grin.
"It's around here somewhere," called the Doctor, and Amy stepped out of the TARDIS and into the snow, attempting to walk in the Doctor's footprints.
Wherever they were, the sun set really early. The woods grew darker and Amy's feet began to numb. And following the bobbing light of the sonic was making her vaguely queasy.
"Aha!" came the Doctor's voice.
Amy pushed on to reach the small clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a wee house, built of weathered wood. It had one curtained window, a stovepipe poking out of the shingled roof, and a big rusty chain and padlock securing the door.
"Looks like they weren't exactly expecting us," Rory noted.
The Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver and the padlock clinked open, falling off the chain. "Far more here than meets the eye."
Rory went in first. "Whoa." His voice was reverent. "Amy, come look!"
"What's the -- oh," Amy said, her cold feet forgotten and her irritation melting away.
The center console here was luminous pinks and greens; the floor was soft thick carpet which sparkled like moonlit snow; a wood fire burned merrily in an old-fashioned woodstove which looked ridiculously anachronistic against the speckled space-age polymers of the walls.
"She won't fly anymore," the Doctor said regretfully, "but I still like to visit from time to time."
"Hallo there," Rory said gently, reaching out a hand to touch the console. Amy didn't hear a response, but she imagined that the fire crackled just a little bit brighter, the console shimmered for an instant like the Northern Lights.
(500 words)