AN: I have resisted writing/posting this for the longest time mainly because I'm very much a proper cannon supporter. But I decided that since the story arcs including Pete's World, where this takes place, is officially wrapped up, I'm well justified in having this little literary adventure.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Doctor Who or any recognizable characters, places, or objects. Though as I'm facing my first year of college I get the feeling that it'll be a shame that the blue police call posts on campus aren't boxes and don't travel in time and space.

So. Allons-y?

Doctor Who: Days of Future Past

By: Celestialdome

I

Morning Glory

The first time was an accident.

Donna Noble bolted from bed with a solitary thought in her head, I need to get to the TARDIS. As she flew down the hall, down the stairs, nearly slid into the banister of the landing, she conveniently did not realize that she had no idea as to what a TARDIS was nor why she felt this frightened compulsion to get to it. "Whoa there!"

Donna skidded to a stop in the lower level hallway and stared blankly at the man who had addressed her. Dressed in dress trousers and a crisp oxford and trying not to upset the delicate balance of his coffee mug. Blonde, almost a shade of honey hair slightly swept across a not-quite-wide forehead. Eyes that were almost the bluest blue, she knows what really is the bluest blue, study her as thin lips that had worked themselves into a concerned line open to speak, "Donna, sweetheart, are you ok?"

Funny thing is, this man looked and sounded like her father. She couldn't help but wonder if this is how Rose

Wait. Her father.

This man was her father.

"Yeah. Had a …" what? Memory? It felt like the right word, but she couldn't remember what she was supposed to remember. Something about… "Nightmare," she finished lamely. He considered her for a moment more and felt her forehead before feeling satisfied with her response.

"Well then, make sure the boys get their lunches and get off to school," he started heading towards the door and then spun on his heel, facing her again, "Oh, and the permission slips are clipped to the ice box."

Donna smiled fondly, "Dad you're beginning to sound like Mum." Her father adopted a saddened look for a moment and then brightened. He bid her a farewell and left.

Wandering into the kitchen, she glanced at the stove clock. 5 AM, a whole hour too early to wake her brothers up and not enough time to go back to sleep. She helps herself to the remains of her father's pot of coffee, grimaces at the bitter taste and adds milk and sugar. Leaning against the counter, she made a mental list of what needed to get done. Having graduated from university, she supposed she should get a job. That meant making a trip to the job centre. Now there was a displeasing thought.

"If you keep your face contorted like that, you'll die alone and young!" Donna was shocked out of her reverie.

"Oi!" she shrieked. "I make sure you all get off to school, and this is all the thanks I get?" she teased. She ignores the roll of the eyes that responded to her question and starts making two lunches.

The other young man who had come down shortly after his twin tried to intervene, "Donna, sis, we can make our own lunches, we are 13 after all."

Donna gave an un-lady-like snort.

"If I left the two of you to your own devices, your lunches would be made of snack cakes and your socks would be mismatched." At least one of them had the decency to look abashed.

"Donna, surely you kid!" A pale hand flew to his forehead, providing sharp contrast to his ginger hair. How they ended up with red hair in a family chock full of blondes and brunettes, was beyond Donna. The teenager continued with his sob story, turning to address his mirror image, "It wounds me so to think that sister has no faith in us, brother of mine!" The other shook his head in mock solemn agreement. Donna simply shook her head grateful that at least the twin terrors could get themselves dressed with matching socks.

"I'll give you points for being able to wear two white socks at the same time, kid. But not enough to let you make your own lunch," she relented, handing the two brown-paper sacks to boys. Once the lunches were safely deposited into backpacks, she nearly all but pushed them out the door and on their way to school.

With this finished, Donna was able to focus on the next task of the day, getting herself ready to face the day.

Showered and dressed, Donna emptied the rest of the coffee down the drain and set the mug and carafe to be washed when somebody came home. And with an oddly optimistic mind-set, she stepped out the door and into the not-so-quite bustling streets of Cheswick.

But she couldn't quite shake the feeling that she was missing something.

Something big.

Something blue.

It was with a large amount of confusion, a twinge of anticipation, and a healthy dose of skepticism that Doctor John Smith found himself walking towards the local hardware store.

His, wonderful, beautiful, fantastic, brilliant, wife had nearly shoved him out the door with the near impossible mission of finding the smallest screwdriver known to any-kind. It had been rather suspicious that the moment he tried to walk down the corridor that would lead him to the engineering and technical department of Torchwood that the very person he was looking to find would intercept him and ask him a favor.

Not to mention that she had been working later and later than usual the past couple of weeks. When he inquired as to the reason and if she needed help, she just gave him that devastating, cheeky, foxy tongue-n-teeth smile and simply say, "spoilers".

But anyways, when his pink-and-yellow wife asked him to do something, even if it was as domestic as running down the street to get a screwdriver, he did it. After all, he had once told her, "your wish is my command. But be careful what you wish for."

So engrossed in trying to put he almost-Time-Lord brain to the task of unraveling his wife's, he just now realized how nice, how perfect that sounded, intentions he missed the young almost-blond-almost-brunette woman who passed him. He missed how her greenish-hazel eyes went oddly blank. He missed her abrupt stop in her determined stride. Had missed the sharp spin that oriented her line of sight with the back of his head. Which was a shame, he enjoyed people watching, he had gotten quite good at it. Would have been able to realize that the not-quite-blonde-hazel human had remembered something.

And been prepared for what came out of her mouth next.

"Oi! Sunshine! Think you can just see me without saying hello, Space man?"

It had sounded quite like a friend he had lost a while ago. Someone who, for her own safety, should not remember anything right now. Put perhaps, just maybe…

Sounded quite like…

But as he turned around, he was sorely disappointed.

It was not the lightly ginger temp from Cheswick he knew. It was merely a young woman, perhaps a little over twenty one. A young woman who look terribly confused. Terribly confused and horribly, horribly mortified.

She stuttered out a quick and jumbled, "S…S…Sorry, so sorry sir, I..I don't know what came over me." He was about to try to assure her it was quite alright and perhaps diffuse the small scene that had developed when she bolted.