1:
Darcy Lewis swung the gun up to face the latest alien threat, and, gritting her teeth, fired the entire clip straight into its chest. It didn't move away, or do more than flinch slightly with each hit. Darcy and her gun were nothing more than a minor annoyance, and that pissed her off, damnit! After all of the training that she had done—all of the hours that she had spent holed up with Clint in the shooting range to make her aim as flawless as possible, and all of the disappointed looks that she had endured from a certain ancient, two-hearted alien, and she was still going to die right here, right now.
Or maybe not—there were familiar walls forming around her, a wheezing sound that she heard in her dreams echoing, and she let the gun drop with relief.
"Hey, Doctor," she called, surveying the TARDIS. As was common for the Doctor's encounters with people who preferred to stay on earth and in their own time periods, she was never entirely sure which Doctor that she was going to encounter, just that he had never stopped keeping an eye on her mom. After awhile, he had begun keeping an eye on her as well, and things had just sort of spiralled from there.
"Darcy!" Tall, skinny, pinstriped suit and trainers, coral struts and blue-glowy TARDIS. "How's Grace?"
"Good," she said.
He transferred his gaze to her gun, and gave her the liquid pools of disapproval. This particular version of the Doctor hated guns, she knew. "How's..."
"Martha?" The Doctor suggested smoothly.
"Sure, Martha," Darcy agreed. "Let's go with that." It was so hard to know where he was in his personal timeline, but she had immediately identified that he was currently post-Rose era, based on the generally depressed air that circulated the TARDIS.
"Martha's doing well," he said. "She... I just invited her to stay with me. Full time. But her mum. She had to apologize for everything, and I was getting hives." He shuddered.
"Ah," Darcy said. "Well. Thanks for the save. But I should get back to helping evacuate civilians. You know, the ones who are being ripped apart by a bunch of giant aliens that you don't want us to kill." When she was younger, she had agreed with the Doctor's 'violence only as a last resort' rhetoric. The problem was that SHIELD had a point—violence as a last resort meant that these aliens had a lot of opportunity to cause damage and destruction. Plus, she wasn't even supposed to have to be using violence—that was the Avengers' job. Evacuation wasn't supposed to involve aliens, bullets or death/dying.
Thank god she had other connections. And thank god SHIELD had not yet managed to hack UNIT or Torchwood (thanks to the alien firewalls from the 84th century in Torchwood's case, and JARVIS' extra protection in UNIT's, added without their knowledge because she had begged the AI for help) to discover her association with a 'person/alien of interest'. Or, if you wanted to get technical, her mother's association with that alien of interest. Grace Holloway was just a pretty average doctor from San Francisco, after all, and Mark Lewis was a mechanic. Completely normal. Completely ordinary. Completely not worth SHIELD's (or anyone else's) attention.
"But—" the Doctor gave Darcy the eyes, and she understood. He was lonely. Of course he was lonely. Martha was still just a place-holder to him. She hadn't yet managed to worm her way into his carefully guarded hearts as a very good friend. Rose was gone, and as far as he knew, he wasn't ever going to see her again. Donna had said no to him, and this Doctor would never know Amy, Rory or Clara.
"Can you get me back to this very moment?" Darcy asked sternly. "This is the middle of a battle, I can't just disappear."
He nodded frantically.
"Got it, girl?" She asked the TARDIS. "Pick another time to mess with him; I need to be back here."
The console beeped in response.
Giving in, Darcy grinned. "Alright, Doctor, show me something amazing."
2:
Clint spun her around the dance floor smoothly. She had to admit that while the archer looked more at home in either jeans or his tac-suit, Clint-in-a-tux cleaned up well. And if their current deep cover situation meant that he had to hold her with easy intimacy, occasionally bestow a kiss or whisper in her ear, well, she wasn't exactly complaining. Hello, biceps?
Soon, though, he released her to the side of the dance floor. All of their intel on this particular slimy Russian arms dealer stated that he liked pretty young things with big tits, no brains, and boyfriends—in other words, he liked to take other people's toys. Thankfully, Darcy was well-equipped in the tits department, good at acting like an empty-headed twit when the occasion called for it, and thanks to having a mother who was fairly high up in a hospital and had to attend society parties to pander for funding every now and then, an idea of how one was supposed to act in a situation like this.
Predictably, as soon as Clint loudly murmured that he was going to get them something to drink, a semi-attractive but somewhat greasy and scrawny guy sidled up to her. Mark here. Ready for action. She managed to talk him into taking her somewhere private, and was in the middle of kissing him, letting him put his hands down the front of her dress, and subtly interrogating him.
He was very easy. But right when she was about to give him a bump on the back of the head (in a place that was specifically designed to garner memory loss without causing any permanent damage), the plan to leave him on the bed in his underwear and under the impression that he had had a really good time was interrupted by a very familiar police box materializing in mid-air right outside the window, and smashing through it. Cursing, Darcy put her plan to call Clint on hold, and smoothly cracked the guy in the back of the head and manoeuvred him onto the bed.
Floppy hair, brown tweed, bowtie. Pond-era, then. Amy popped out the door next to him.
"Doctor," Darcy hissed, multi-tasking as she ripped the buttons off the ridiculously expensive silk shirt. "Seriously? You cannot be here. Hey, Amy, Rory," she called to the gorgeous, knockout redhead, Amy's husband hovering behind her, and avoiding looking at Darcy.
"Darcy, this man is not who you think he is," the Doctor informed her seriously.
"Arms dealer, Russian mob, very slimy background," Darcy rattled off irritably, flipping the shirtless man onto his back and popping the button on his dress pants. "This is a mission, Doctor, not a one-night stand."
"Um, Darce?" Amy called. "You're... um, spilling." She gestured at her own chest, and Darcy glanced down. One of her tits was, indeed, nearly popping out of the top of the skin-tight, cleavage revealing black dress. Ah. Explained why Rory was busy looking at anything but her, then. Impatiently, she ran a hand along the outer edge of her strapless bra, and smoothed her bust back into place.
The Doctor, on the other hand, looked appalled. "You seduce people for information now? Does your mother know about this?"
Darcy and Amy exchanged exasperated glances. "When I am trying to find massive weapons caches that are being sold to the Ten Rings and Al Qaeda, I am willing to make an exception to what my mother considers acceptable behaviour, Doctor," she said, sighing and pausing in removing the guy's pants to yank his shoes and socks off and scatter them all over the floor.
"You were a little girl five minutes ago!" The Doctor protested loudly. "No, seriously, I just got back from visiting your mother! You were a little girl!"
"Doctor," Amy sighed, pulling on his arm. "You're still worse than my aunt. Leave her alone."
"Yes, Doctor, thank you for the input," Darcy added. "Don't tell my mother about this; and don't call me, I'll call you."
It took a few more minutes, but eventually, the combined efforts of her and Amy managed to get the Doctor back into the TARDIS, and the TARDIS began to dematerialize.
Now, what to tell Clint about the broken window?
3:
"What is going on, JARVIS?" Darcy demanded over the sound of blaring alarms and slamming metal lockdowns.
"Security breach, Miss Lewis. If you would follow the lights, I will lead you to a secure area to wait out the danger," JARVIS' smooth British tones echoed over the loudspeaker, louder than normal because of the sirens.
She glanced at the direction that JARVIS was leading her, and hesitantly followed the line of guiding lights in the hallway. JARVIS knew exactly what was going on in his building, after all. He wouldn't ever bring her somewhere unsafe, and depending on who was actually trying to break in, she might not be any help in the fight, anyway.
"Miss Lewis!" JARVIS sounded alarmed. "The intruders are-"
"Hey, gorgeous." She whipped around, and laughed out loud.
"Captain Jack Harkness, as I live and breathe," Darcy greeted the 'intruder'. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, you know. This and that. Do I know you?"
Darcy's eyes shot wide, and she began to back away. If this was before Jack knew her, then there was a good chance that this was conman!Jack that she was dealing with here, and as she often had the tendency to forget, Jack Harkness was a Time Agent for a reason. He could (and would) be very dangerous when he had to be.
"Not yet," she said cryptically.
"Ah. You're one of those. Are you a Time Agent?"
"No," she said quickly. "Not at all. No Time Agent. I just have some time travellers tangled in my life, is all. You're one of them."
She neglected to mention that he was pretty well stuck in the same time by the time that she knew him, because the idea of being trapped in the twenty-first century was probably utterly abhorrent to this man.
Then Rose came up behind him, and she realized that he probably wasn't a con man anymore. Rose Tyler was younger than she had ever seen her. Her hair was longer, and the peroxide job was lot worse than it would be in the blonde's future. To top it off, the Doctor that joined them was one that she had never met, just seen pictures of.
This must be when he met her, then. Knowing that she couldn't give anything away, she scanned the leather-clad alien carefully. The Doctor, for his part, examined her timelines with a practiced, utilitarian eye before shrugging, grasping onto Rose's hand and ordering her to follow him. JARVIS protested loudly as she ran off with the intruders and overrode the security lockdown to let them into the lab that Jack's vortex manipulator had led them to, and stood by as Jack and the Doctor contained a set of nano-bots that were very questionable in purpose.
Then she followed the others back to the TARDIS, and watched as Jack and Rose went inside. The Doctor leaned against the outside wall of the bright blue police box.
"You want to know who I am and why my timeline is so tangled around yours," Darcy recited.
The Doctor arched a brow. "Well?" Wow. That accent was... unexpected. And kind of hot.
"My mother is Grace Holloway," Darcy answered his unasked questions. "And you have a habit of interfering with my life and career."
He smiled for the first time since his appearance. "Grace. Well. She's done a good job," he complemented.
"Thanks," Darcy said.
"Tell her hello for me?"
"I always do," Darcy returned. "And also, the answer to that question that you were about to ask me? It's the same as hers."
"Pity," he said cheerfully. "What exactly is your career, anyway?"
"I work for SHIELD," Darcy said. "SHIELD/Avengers liaison, with a bit of Stark Industries in the mix. Mostly, I gather information."
"Ahh. Grace did well," he said again.
Darcy smiled at him, and watched the TARDIS disappear into the background before setting back to the labs to do some damage control with JARVIS, make sure that he wasn't about to tell SHIELD or his creator about her friends with the disappearing blue box.
4:
Darcy Lewis did not do dresses. Even Asgardian ones. She fidgeted with the skirt impatiently until Jane smacked a hand over hers and gave her a warning look, and Darcy shifted her gaze back to the throne, where Odin was making a speech.
God, talk about pretentious. These guys definitely took their posturing seriously. Thor was sitting on Jane's other side, and not paying attention to his father anymore than Darcy was. He was busy eyeing the tiny astrophysicist and grinning like the world's most adorable golden retriever. Jane and Thor really were adorable together.
Then the assembly was interrupted by a guard dragging a kicking, biting and hair pulling girl into the room and hurling her to her knees at Odin's feet.
"This intruder was found in the vault, Milord," the guard stated. Darcy's eyes went wide. Clara. Clara didn't look all that great. She was wearing a cute little navy blue, polka-dotted dress. Her makeup was smeared, her shoulder-length brunette hair was an absolute mess, and she looked like she had been smacked in the face a couple of times on the journey up here, based on the bruise forming on her left cheek.
The Aesir guards might not immediately recognize her for a mortal, but that was what she was, and she couldn't take the sort of damage that an Asgardian could. Clara's eyes connected with Darcy, and she shook her head frantically. Darcy took that to mean 'don't blow your cover, the Doctor's on his way.'
She bit her lip, and wrapped her hand around the leg of her chair to keep herself from moving to protest when the guard backfisted Clara again, sending her head snapping to one side, and making her sprawl to the floor.
"Who are you?" the guard demanded roughly.
Clara's eyes connected with his. "Oswin Oswald. Junior Entertainment Manager, Starship Alaska," she babbled. Then she shook her head at Darcy again, and flipped the Doctor's psychic paper open in the guard's direction.
"How did you get here, and how did you get into the vault?" the guard growled, grabbing her by the hair and twisting it until her head snapped back.
That was the end of the rope. The Doctor might be okay with letting Clara get smacked around while he was off doing whatever, but Darcy wasn't down with that.
"Stop it!" Darcy lurched out of her chair and chopped the guard hard on the back of the hand, shocking him into releasing Clara, who collapsed in a heap at his feet. "Can't you see that she's just a girl?"
"Lady Darcy," the guard said quietly, careful not to lift a hand against someone that was so clearly under Prince Thor's protection, especially when Prince Thor was standing there behind her, glowering threateningly at the guard.
"No, seriously. She's just. A. Girl. Did it occur to you that maybe if you stopped grabbing and hitting, she might be more willing to tell you how she got into the vault?"
The guard looked from her, crouching with one hand on Clara's shoulder, to Clara, still somewhat crumpled, and softened. "Which realm do you hail from, young lady?"
Clara's eyes caught his, and her eyebrow arched. "Gallifrey," she answered promptly. Darcy choked. She was trying, here, but if Clara wasn't going to help her out, there was only so much that she could do.
The guard started to get irate again. "Gallifrey was destroyed. Yesterday and far too long ago, and there is only one survivor," he snapped. "Lady Darcy, I will have to ask that you step away from the intruder—clearly, she is far more than just a girl, and she may be dangerous to you."
Then the explosions started, and Clara grinned. "Too late. Ah, here's my ride!"
As if on cue, the Doctor banged his way through the massive arching doors, and skidded inside on perpetually unsteady feet. "Ah, but that survivor would be me," he drawled. Clara laughed from her place on the floor, and Darcy rolled her eyes.
"Did you get it?" Clara demanded, trying to get to her feet. Darcy very quickly helped her up, and she was clearly in worse shape than she was pretending to be for the Doctor, if she needed that much help finding her footing.
The Doctor's expression cracked as he moved towards his companion, and traced one finger across the bruises forming on her cheekbone. "Did you hit her?" He demanded of the guard.
"I—she—I did not know that she was yours, lord—"
"Doctor," the Doctor interrupted menacingly. "I'm the Doctor. And did you hit a person that is under my protection?"
"I apologize," the guard settled for, bowing deeply. "She would not answer my questions."
"He was going to hit her again," Darcy volunteered, glaring at the guard. "I stopped him." The Doctor turned to her, and gave her a look that was full of gratitude, and squeezed her hand with his free one, before taking Clara's in his and pulling her out of the room at a fast walk.
Leaving her to try to pick up the pieces without looking like she understood what was going on. Fantastic.
5:
Eventually, Darcy managed to work out her shit with Clint. It took them a ridiculously long time, according to Pepper, Jane and Betty. Natasha was impressed by how quickly they had managed it, because apparently, Clint was an idiot when it came to the fairer sex. But... biceps, so Darcy wasn't too concerned.
Of course, though, Loki just had to decide that she needed kidnapping in the middle of their first real date. They had had not real dates before, of course... but this was the real thing, and it was important. And then Loki just had to screw it up.
It happened when Clint had dropped her off in front of the cute little hole-in-the-wall Italian place that Pepper had recommended and left to park the car. It actually took her a second to recognize super-villain with daddy issues extraordinaire, but by then he had fastened his hand around her forearm and they had disappeared.
Fantastic.
"What, exactly do you want?" Darcy demanded, eyebrow arching.
"I was curious," Loki drawled, releasing her arm. They were standing in the living room of a completely average apartment. She glanced at the window, finding a relatively ordinary New York street below.
"Curious about what?" Darcy snapped. She did not travel with the Doctor, goddamn it. She wasn't a superhero. She was a sidekick who happened to know an alien that occasionally saved the universe. This did not happen to sidekicks.
"How such an ordinary girl has managed to captivate all of the Earth's Mightiest Heroes, of course," Loki said, almost cheerily. Clearly, he had more than a few screws loose. "Stark and Banner listen to you. Thor cares for you like a sister. Romanov protects you, Barton wants to fuck you, and Rogers trusts you."
"Barton has already fucked me," Darcy said, rolling her eyes. "If you're going to spy on us, at least keep your information up to date—it's just embarrassing if you don't. Steve trusts me because I teach him about the twenty-first century without mocking him. Thor cares for me because I tazed him, and he's weird like that. Tony and Bruce listen to me because I keep them fed, watered and make sure that they sleep every three days, give or take. Natasha protects me because Clint likes me, and Natasha is actually protecting Clint."
Loki snorted. "Sentiment."
"You know, there's a lot to sentiment, Loki. Maybe you should look into that."
Then someone knocked on the door. Funny, that—Darcy didn't think that Loki had exactly registered his address for mail or delivery, and he had probably intimidated his neighbors into never ever bothering him. By the look on his face, whoever was here was surprising him, too.
He stalked over to the door and yanked it open.
"Hello! I'm the Doctor. I'm here to rescue the lovely Miss Lewis. So, if you don't mind me, I'll just take her and go—"
Loki tried to blast him with a shot of light, but the skinny boy in a suit leaped nimbly out of the way, trenchcoat twirling behind him.
Darcy facepalmed.
"Do you know him?" Loki demanded incredulously, staring in astonishment at the Doctor, who hadn't stopped dancing around.
"Unfortunately, yes," Darcy muttered through her muffling fingers. "He's an old friend of my mother's."
"Oi! Spaceman." Darcy let her hands drop and grinned. "What do you think you're doing?" Donna Noble stalked down the hallway, making a somewhat formidable picture. Loki backed away, and the Doctor turned the dripping pools of needy adoration on his companion. Darcy always melted under those eyes—those things were fucking huge. But Donna, as she usually did, ignored them entirely, smacked the Doctor upside the head and turned menacingly to Loki. Loki took another step back—proving that his screws maybe weren't as loose as Darcy had originally thought. He might've been a few crayons short of a full box, but he clearly had more colours than the Doctor, who was still dripping sappiness.
"Did you kidnap Darcy?" Donna demanded menacingly.
"I- it- I was—"
Darcy took pity on him. "He was just curious, Donna. And lonely. And while I would prefer if his loneliness didn't manifest in the middle of a date, on a night that I'm hoping to get laid, he's mostly harmless. I swear."
Loki nodded frantically.
"And I am perfectly happy to hang out with him, just not when I have other plans."
Loki nodded again.
"So, if Loki has no objections, I'm going to go and find Clint and assure him that I'm not dead. Donna, thank you for rescuing me. Doctor, thank you for giving me something to laugh at. Loki, just call ahead next time, all right?" Darcy asked exasperatedly. Donna looked satisfied. The Doctor had turned the needy pools of adoration in Darcy's direction. Loki was still nodding like there was something wrong with his neck.
Darcy pushed through the people into the hallway, and started moving towards the elevator. Everyone else (including Loki) followed. "You are quite formidable, Lady Donna," Loki stated bashfully.
"Well, I'd take that as a compliment, but I hear that you're some sort of super villain," Donna shot back.
"You are a time traveller?"
"That I am."
"I shall have to find you in your present," Loki said decidedly. "You are admirable."
Uh-oh.
"Let's not talk about this!" Darcy burst in. "Future knowledge and all that. Donna, Doctor, why don't you two go and find the TARDIS?" She practically shoved Loki out of the elevator. "Have to get back to my date, don't worry at all, Doctor, Loki will make sure that I get home! Bye!" She waved, watching them set off in one direction, and very firmly marched in the opposite, dragging Loki behind her.
"Lady Darcy, the restaurant that I removed you from is in the same direction that they were going," Loki pointed out dryly.
"It doesn't matter. I just need for him to be out of earshot," Darcy said distractedly, watching over her shoulder. "He's got better senses than a human. And that Time sense, it is a pain in the ass sometimes. Especially with this."
"What do you—"
"Loki," Darcy began urgently. "You cannot find Donna in this time."
"Why not? She is quite the formidable woman. Much like you."
"Oh, thank you. But you cannot find Donna. Look at me, God of Mischief and Lies. Promise me."
"But I don't understand."
"Loki, if you liked Donna at all, you can't find her," Darcy began. "She'll die."
"What—"
"He's a Time Lord," she interrupted. "Please, tell me that you at least sort of picked up on that, or I will lose faith in your supervillainy."
"Yes, I got that. The Oncoming Storm, Destroyer of Worlds, last of the most noble race to touch this universe. Yes. I got that," Loki said. "I didn't quite believe it, what with him bouncing around like an idiot and allowing himself to be ordered around by a mortal, but I got it."
"Good. Well. You must have some comprehension of what is in a Time Lord mind. A Time Lord consciousness."
"Some," Loki said warily.
"Now tell me what would happen to a mortal if they absorbed that Time Lord consciousness."
"They'd burn up and die. Within minutes, likely," Loki said. "I doubt that most of the Aesir would be able to handle it. I probably could, and perhaps Odin or my Lady Mother. Maybe Thor. But any of the weaker ones..."
"And how would you stop this process from happening?"
"You would have to remove that consciousness. It couldn't be removed, of course, but you would have to lock it up, never to be released. And to keep it there, you would have to remove the memory of everything associated with— Lady Donna. What happened?"
"Half human biological meta-crisis," Darcy sighed. "I wasn't there, but Jack told me after the fact."
"And Jack is..."
"And incorrigible flirt from the fifty-first century. He's the head of Torchwood. You're lucky you haven't run into them."
Loki just looked sort of confused. "It's nasty business, caring for mortals," Darcy said knowingly. "We've got this unfortunate habit of dying on you. Take me back to the restaurant now, please."
Loki gripped her arm, and they materialized exactly where they had left from. Clint was standing next to the door interrogating anyone who walked by, and he spotted them immediately, moving to wrap Darcy in his arms and glare at Loki. Loki disappeared before Clint could pull a gun or yell at him.
+1:
It happened on movie night. The inhabitants of the Avengers Tower were all settling in with their respective significant others to put on The Princess Bride, which everyone agreed was a cinematic masterpiece, and that it was a tragedy that Steve and Thor hadn't seen it yet. Steve came in with several bowls of popcorn and distributed them around the room.
Then the opening credits were interrupted by a very strange wheezing sound. Everyone started staring around in confusion, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Except for Darcy, who had climbed up the back of the couch and dived over it. Clint got up on his knees to ask her what she was doing when the blue police box started fading in and out in the middle of the living room.
After that, everyone just stared in astonishment until a man with floppy hair and a bowtie, dressed in a tweed jacket popped out the front door of the box. "Darcy Lewis!" He hollered. "Get your coat!"
Darcy groaned from behind the couch.
The man blinked. "Darce?"
"Yes, Doctor?" Darcy called, sounding a bit muffled by the carpet under her face. "What exactly do you want that was so important that you had to materialize in a room full of the Avengers and interrupt movie night for?"
"Movie night!" He sounded part appalled, part disgusted and part fascinated. "Whyever are you wasting time on something so ordinary as movie night? There are planets to save! Stars to see! Anywhere and anywhen, every star that ever was. All of time and space, where do you want to go?"
"The sales pitch has never worked on me in the past, Doctor," Darcy sighed, popping up from behind the couch and smoothing down her rather mussed hair. "What makes you think that it'll work now?"
"You are the Oncoming Storm," Thor said. "And you were on Asgard. With—"
Darcy, recognizing danger, interrupted quickly. "OKAY, Thor! That is quite enough of that. It doesn't matter when he was on Asgard and why, so long as you don't tell him about it. Or who he was with," she added loudly. "That especially doesn't matter. You aren't going to tell him that."
The Doctor gave her the needy pools of adoration, but they just weren't as affective on this incarnation.
"Spoilers," Darcy said knowingly.
"You have been spending far too much time with River," the Doctor announced.
"She's your wife," Darcy shot back. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted at her ridiculously. "Now, what are you doing here?"
"I've found something. I've got Neffy and John, just got to get the Ponds. I've decided that I need a gang. Want to come with?"
"Neffy... Queen Nefertiti?" Darcy asked incredulously. "Of Egypt?"
"She tagged along," the Doctor said cheerfully.
Darcy rubbed her forehead, where a headache was beginning to form. "You can't just take Queen Nefertiti away for six months or a year like you sometimes do with the others," Darcy said sternly. "Her timeline..."
"Shush," he said dismissively. "Come on. Movie night? Or fun?"
"What have you found?"
He grinned infectiously. "I have absolutely no idea. Do you want to find out?" His eyebrow arched. That infectious smile of his twitched at her. Darcy lasted all of three seconds before she began to smile, too.
"You can have me home by tonight?"
"Promise," the Doctor assured her.
"All right," she said, grinning. "But just one trip."
"One trip," he echoed, not sounding entirely happy about it. "I swear."
"Good."
Then, before anyone else could react, Darcy darted inside the police box, and slammed the door behind her, and it started disappearing with her inside. Everyone in the room blinked at the spot where it had been when the wheezing started up again, the doors opened, and Darcy popped back out. Her hair was a disaster. She was plastered in sweat and dirt and holding a flashlight in one hand and a golf ball in the other.
"Bye Doctor, Amy, Rory. Nice to meet you, Mr. Williams," she was calling into the box. "Thanks!" the box began disappearing again, and Darcy turned around, looked at everyone staring at her, and promptly walked out of the room. The movie forgotten, everyone got up to follow her, pestering her with questions.
So I finally finished a Whovengers story! Yay! Basically, if you missed it, the idea is that Darcy is Grace Holloway's daughter, and after the Doctor met her in number 3, he kept sort of popping into her life, because he likes it when his companions have kids. If you are unfamiliar with Grace Holloway's name, all you need to know is that she was the Doctor's companion in the 1996 movie, but when he asked her to travel with him, she said no. Number one took place in series 3, just after The Lazarus Experiment- basically, Martha asked the Doctor to take her to her mother to apologize for everything that happened, and then he bolted for a bit. Number two somewhere in series 6 (it doesn't really matter where). Number three in series one somewhere between The Doctor Dances and Bad Wolf (before or after Boom Town doesn't really matter). Number four post series 7b, sometime after The Name of the Doctor. This may still be Jossed, but my theory is that Clara will be able to at least partially access the memories of her other lives, at least when it is convenient for the plot. Number five somewhere in series four, doesn't really matter where. And plus one was during Dinosaurs on a Spaceship, the only one of these that is actually, definitely AU. Hope you enjoyed, drop me a review if you want.