Title: Snapshots of a New Zealand Holiday (Part 1)
Rating: PG for censored swearing.
Characters: Ten, Donna
Summary: Ten takes Donna to New Zealand where her dislike of sheep becomes alarmingly justified.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who is copyright to the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement intended, no money being made.
Thanks so much to sophieisgod for being a brilliant beta. :D And tinuviel428 for her early awesome feedback.
A/N: The idea for this came from noticing the two references to New Zealand in 'Voyage of the Damned'. The Doctor's remark that it was a beautiful place, and its appearance on a board where the Tardis materialised. The resulting somewhat cracky theory was that NZ just might be this season's Torchwood/Saxon/Bad Wolf. (Obviously this is not going to be the case...but the idea was certainly attractive!)
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FIRST POLAROID: A blurred blue box spinning towards tussocked hills.
"What did you say they called it?" asked Donna.
"Aotearoa," called the Doctor, straddling the loudly whirring console.
"You what?"
"Land of the long white cloud," he said, giving his Tardis one last prod.
"Oh, alright," said Donna, and poked a button absentmindedly. The Tardis lurched suddenly sideways.
"Don't do that!" said the Doctor in alarm.
"I was trying to be helpful," said Donna. "You still won't explain to me how any of this works. How am I supposed to help if you won't explain to me? I'd love to help, I want to help - "
"- I will!" the Doctor interrupted.
"Bet that Rose got an explanation straight off," she muttered.
He didn't answer at first, and then,
"She already knew her way round."
Donna didn't quite know how to reply to that.
"So this cloud planet, Otea-whatsit, what sort of things live here? Nothing weird, is it? No more giant bugs? I don't want no more giant bugs."
The Doctor grinned. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door. Outside, the world was all fresh skies, and undulating green, and sheep. Lots of sheep. Donna had never fancied sheep much.
"It's the other side of the world," said the Doctor quietly.
SECOND POLAROID: A long stretch of tar road, a wood and wire fence edging one side. The posts are old and warped by winter ice.
"Never liked the country much," said Donna as they reached the road.
"Why's that?"
"I dunno, I just find it too quiet. And too...country."
"I've got music like that," said the Doctor. "Left, I think." And they began walking along the road, softly curving green hills on either side.
"You listen to country music?" said Donna. "I trusted you, sunshine. I trusted you. With my life. I got in a blue box with a country music fan. That's right up there with not having a sober driver."
"Aw now, that's a bit harsh isn't it? I'd never drink and fly. Well," he corrected himself, "there was that one time. But there were banana daquiris. I can never resist a banana daquiri. Or two..."
Donna made a face. She hated the things.
"Yeah, well, maybe not that bad. Up there with, oh I dunno, walking home at 3am off your nut on cheap beer." In the next field Donna could see sheep, blobbed lazily across the grass. They were stupid things to be afraid of. Ever since a ram had tried to do her in on that junior school farm trip, the sight of them put her on edge. She wasn't planning to tell Martian-boy here about it 'til she had to, though, that was for sure. She'd had quite enough mocking from Lance when he'd found out - she squashed the thought. Even halfway across the universe, he still kept sort of occurring to her.
"This planet looks a lot like Earth," said Donna.
"That's because it is," said the Doctor, rolling his eyes at her, "Heard of New Zealand?"
"Oi," said Donna, "watch it." She had hoped to go a bit further on her only trip. "Couldn't we have gone somewhere a bit more exotic? My cousin's been to New Zealand. You've got a box which can travel through time and space and you take me to the bottom of the world."
"Oh now, don't be too hard on the place," said the Doctor, idly patting a fence-post. "Might be something interesting just around the corner..."
Donna wasn't convinced. She trudged on, mulling. She'd agreed to go with him for one trip when he'd turned up. Said he'd wanted a bit of company. Back in time for dinner, he'd promised. And something about him had changed Donna's mind. Flashes of grit and pain behind the idle grins. As long as he'd promise she wasn't going to get chased by bloody Santas again, she'd go for a trip, she'd said. He'd promised he'd take her somewhere safe.
New Zealand was safe. And pretty, she supposed. But she'd been hoping for something a bit more interesting than roads and sheep and fences.
THIRD POLAROID: A dirty lanky teenage boy slouching alongside his mum and dad, in front of a small tree and a squat wooden house.
"Dave!" called his mother. "Dave!" No reply. "Dave!" She called again, louder. Still nothing. "He's never," she shoved the carrots into boiling water, "back in time for dinner. It's not that hard. Not bloody rocket science. But can he manage it? Nope."
"Mm," said her husband, deep in his magazine.
"You don't know where he is, do you?"
"Over with the sheep," he said, and turned over a page. "Probably can't hear you."
She hmmphed, and went on chopping vegetables, her slices quick and small. All of a sudden there was a yell. A yell that echoed across the paddocks.
"HELP! HELP!"
"Oh fck," said his father. He threw his magazine aside and moved to the window. Their son was running full tilt across the paddocks towards them.
"Albie - "
"What the hell?" he said, ignoring her. "All he was doing was feeding them, Sandra. He can't have screwed that up."
Dave was almost at the house now, nearly tripping several times in his haste. Then he was at the door, breathing hard.
"The sheep," he panted, "the sheep -"
"What?"
"They tried to eat me!"
Albert Trickerson was not impressed. "Don't be stupid." His son cast a panicked glance back across the paddocks.
"They did!" Albert looked across at his wife. She looked back at him, unsure. "They did. Why the hell would I make up sht like that?"
"What happened?"
"I was feeding them, everything was fine, and then one of the sheep sort of," he paused, "snarled. And then jumped at me. And then the one next to me tried to bite at my arm. And then another one came at me from behind. If I hadn't got away..." he trailed off. The silence stretched uncomfortably.
"Why don't you go have a look?" said his mother quickly. "I'm sure it's nothing. Something you can fix. No worries." She went to the stove, turned the pot off. "Dinner'll keep." Her voice was casual and light, but her lips were tensely tight-pursed. Dave stood in the doorway, hands deep in his pockets as his eyes shifted ceaselessly, anxiously, between his parents' faces.
"Fine," said his father shortly. He walked outside, his son following slowly behind. Then Dave's jaw dropped. He pointed, panic-eyed, across the paddocks.
"Look! Look!" In the distance the flock of sheep were moving, in formation, steadily towards them.
From behind them came footsteps, two sets of feet scrunching up the gravel driveway. Dave spun round. Coming towards him were a man in a rumpled brown suit and a red-headed woman who looked more than a little uncomfortable.
"Hello," grinned the stranger. "Something wrong?"
"Who the hell are you?" said Albert. The man in the brown suit showed them a card in a black case - John Smith, Agricultural Management. Albert narrowed his eyes.
"You from the council?" He didn't much like the council. Not since they'd stopped his barn extension.
"Sort of," said the stranger. "I'm sort of...freelance. We were just in the area - "
" - surveying," supplied the woman.
" - surveying," continued the stranger, "and heard you yelling from the road. What's wrong?"
In reply Dave pointed across the fields where the sheep were drawing ever closer, their movement steady, regular, almost military. The red-headed woman swore.