Disclaimer: I only owned a railway ticket when I wrote this. I do not own these characters, Doctor Who, or even the Tatennant Secret Santa event this was written for.
A/N: part of this was written on a steam train; and that fact might show in places. I didn't know where to start until my son offered the prompt: 'it was a foggy night'.
Tender Ties
Part 1
.
"Oh how wizard!" Donna exclaimed as they stepped out of the TARDIS, and pulled her coat more tightly around her body. "It's planet of the Christmases."
The Doctor followed closely behind and grimaced as they surveyed the snowy landscape; empty except for a distant line of conifer trees and distant mountains. "Not necessarily," he tried to appease her sudden bad mood. "It might be continuous winter here."
"And that is SO much better," she muttered as she walked away from him. "We've landed in Narnia. Point me in the direction of the nearest supply of Turkish delight."
"Donna!" he called after her once she had trudged about ten steps towards the tree line that edged the snowbound vista. "You're going in the wrong direction."
Her head swivelled round to give him her best glare-of-death. "Wrong direction for what exactly, Time boy?"
To her annoyance he merely beamed enthusiastically and bounced on his heels. "To the nearest provider of sustenance, of course."
"Oh course," she sarcastically repeated, and began making her way back to him. "How do you know which is the right way to go?"
He tapped the side of his nose, still grinning that broad smile that made her want to smack it clean off his face. "I can smell it."
"Can't we all," she pretended to agree. "I'll tell you what I can smell, and it begins with 'BS'."
"Now now, play nicely, Donna Noble," he warned her lightly. "I promised you an exciting adventure."
"You also promised me a beach, and yet here we are," she sneered. "Right where I don't want to be."
"How do you know until we go and explore it?" he argued, sweeping a hand to indicate their current situation. "Out there might be the most thrilling adventure to undergo, the tastiest food, or the love of your life."
She followed the sweep of his hand with her eyes, taking in the view again. "Or I could end up with frostbite, a lovely case of the flu' or a romantic encounter with a bear."
"Why would you want a romantic encounter with a bear?" he wondered, scrunching his face up in confusion.
It deepened when she admitted, "I wouldn't."
"Then why mention it?" His brow puckered into frown lines.
"Because coming up against a fierce bear might be the most romantic thing I'll get here," she explained.
"Pft!" He laughed. "Call me weird, but I hardly rate a bear as being a romantic creature."
"That's my point, dumbo!" she snapped. "Winter wonderlands like this are never romantic for me. Ever."
"Then why did you pick Christmas Eve for your wedding day?" he asked before he could stop himself.
He didn't, did he? Donna gasped in shock. "To break… It was a feeble attempt to break an unlucky streak. Thank you so much for reminding me."
"I'm sorry," he immediately apologised. "It was wrong of me to bring that up, but you still haven't explained exactly why you hate Christmas."
Looking away briefly, she decided to face this head on. "What did you do the Christmas before I met you?"
It was his turn to feel down as unwanted memories hit. "I spent it with my… friend," he quietly answered. "Why are you bringing that up?"
"From what Martha told me, Rose wasn't just your friend but your girlfriend," she gently clarified, edging closer to offer comfort with a hand on his arm. "I'm mentioning it because do you know what I did that Christmas? No. I spent the whole time at my Gran's bedside, nursing her as she slowly died."
"I'm sorry," he murmured, but she chose to ignore that for a moment.
"The Christmas before that, I was with Nerys helping her partner give birth. Christmas 2003, I spent rescuing my friend from an abusive boyfriend, ferrying her from the police station to her family in Wales. I stayed to make sure her kids were safe." She then took in a long breath. "I thought things might change after I met you, but last year things were back to normal and I was back to doing exactly the same thing for Dad; seeing him through his last days. Every Christmas gets taken over by some drama involving someone else. It's never for me. And don't get me started on those never-ending hideous Christmas parties where every sleazily bloke takes it as an open invite to grope whoever stands near them without considering the consequences. There's usually no one offering me any sort of support; and don't even mention having a proper bloke in my life."
"Why not?" He took her hands within his own; having suspected this was behind her little outburst.
She lifted her head to stare directly into his eyes, blinking away the tears that wanted to fall. "Because nobody wants to spend time with me at Christmas. I can't tell you how many times I've been dumped just so they can avoid buying me a present. Sometimes they try to get together afterwards, only to dump me again right before Valentine's Day. You may be all moody and whatshername but at least you got to spend Christmas with your girlfriend; knowing she loved you and you loved her back. I've never had that and never will."
Shaking his head, he vowed, "You will. There is someone who will love you each and every Christmas."
Donna snorted her scorn. "Says you. Who is this magic someone? Got him hiding in your pocket?"
"What if I said that you have a bright future ahead of you?" the Doctor reasoned, trying a different tactic. "One where you will be adored."
"What if I know you are talking complete and utter codswallop?" she countered, and then did her best to smile bravely. "Honestly, Doctor, it's lovely of you to try and cheer me up, but we both know that men don't fall in love with women like me."
"Does it have to be a man?" he near whispered, so that she hardly heard the words.
She instantly frowned. "I may be modern but I don't fancy women, if that's what you're suggesting."
"No, it isn't," he replied. "I was thinking male but not necessarily a man."
"Now you've lost me," she confessed. "Unless you're talking about an alien bloke…," she carefully mused.
"Yes," he answered far too enthusiastically, nodding. So he coughed and tried again. "Yes, that's what I meant."
"And you think this alien bloke is somewhere out there in all this snow," she pondered, and screwed her eyes up to look far out into the distance. "Some abominable snowman or other."
"Or other," he agreed. "He could be… oooh… standing right near you." He did that bouncing thing again.
It was best to ignore that, she thought. "That'd make him a troll that lives underground," she stated as she briefly considered the ground beneath their feet. "Or a tree monkey, or the invisible man. Trust me to end up with a will o' the wisp." She threw an impish smile at him that went straight to his hearts.
"You never know. How about we go and have a look at the trees over there?" he proposed. "Have ourselves a bit of a walk, and work up an appetite?"
"Yes, why not," she decided, taking hold of his offered arm. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh. Come on then, Spacemen. Bring on the poor sap that will end up as my husband. I can't wait to meet him."
Now grinning at each in glee, they set off across the snowfield towards whatever lay waiting for them.
#~#~#
Fortunately the temperature had risen since they had first landed in this place, which had quickly proven itself to be Earth; and Scotland in particular. They had met some of the locals in the outskirts of the wood, and further beyond. Through them, they had found out exactly where and when they were. In the Great Glen near Fort William, circa 1997.
Hours later they were back to trudging across the landscape, walking close together, except the conditions were very different this time around compared to the beginning of the day before.
It was a foggy night on the Highland moors, with meagre moonlight to aid them, so the Doctor fished in his pocket and brought out a torch. Eerie light filtered through the evening mist, making the perfect accompaniment to their slow slog across the boggy ground and remnants of crisp snow that lay in drifts.
"I swear I'm going to kill you for this, Spaceman!" Donna loudly grouched as she yet again tripped over a sudden ditch in the terrain. The only saving grace was that the water below hadn't seeped over the top of her boots. So far.
"What?! This isn't my fault," the Doctor bit back. "This has nothing to do with me whatsoever."
"Oh yeah," she said disbelievingly. "I suppose it wasn't you that blurted out 'we won't run away, I promise we won't' to that idiot in the dirty raincoat."
"In all fairness, I was giving the man my solemn word as a Time Lord," he griped back. "If he chose to think me a liar then I am the injured party here."
"Injured? How exactly does that make you injured?" she petulantly queried.
He held up his wrist in demonstration. "I call that more than a bit miffed," he retorted, glaring at the thick nylon ties encasing it. The only saving grace was that the impromptu handcuffs were of a quality that was far below that of the ones the Ood had once placed there.
She instantly held up her own wrist in counterargument. The wrist binding twisted into the skin around her hand causing her to wince as he lowered his section of their joint bondage. "Miffed is NOT the word! I'm almost totally p-"
"Donna! Please," he begged, interrupting her tirade.
"This is the ladylike thing again, isn't it?" she queried. "Look, I said sorry at the time and I am not going to continually say it just for your entertainment."
"I don't remember you worrying about entertaining me at the Gairlochy Hotel when you met that American bloke," he moaned. "Sandy, was it?"
"You know very well that his name was Randy, so don't pretend you've forgotten. Although I hadn't realised you noticed him talking to me since you were too busy chatting up a blonde, as per usual," she huffed. "Obsessed, you are. I bet you even know her shoe size."
"Well…" He thought for a few seconds. "Based on you, I'd have said Mae takes a size 5."
"How nice for her," Donna sarcastically noted. "Shame she isn't here right now. You'd have been able to tuck her under your arm and frogmarch across this boggy ground. Instead you have to drag this fat lump behind you."
"What fat lump?" he wondered, and looked behind him in case he had missed something obvious.
"Nice save, Spaceman," she muttered; and calmed down as she looked about at their surroundings. "Do your Time Lord senses detect any buildings nearby that might conveniently have snips or a knife? I still can't believe your sonic doesn't do plastic."
"It can't do everything," he retorted and then sniffed the air like a bloodhound would do. "I'm starting to get a coal burning fire, so we're close to something. In fact I'd say it was this way…" He started to walk away and then instantly realised his mistake when the weight of Donna halted his movement and she almost fell over. "Perhaps it would be easier if we held hands," he suggested, and took her willing hand without protest.
Half an hour later they found themselves outside a bleak white painted cottage that had a muddy pathway leading up to the front door, and welcoming lights that added warmth to their surroundings.
Their knock was greeted by a middle-aged man cautiously opening the door and peeping out at them around the partial opening. He was stocky and stood with his shirt open enough to show his string vest revealing his unimpressive hairy chest underneath it. Anxiously peering at his unexpected visitors, he repositioned his braces back onto his shoulders.
"Yes? Can I help you?" the little man asked, holding onto the door tightly.
The Doctor immediately put on his best friendly grin. "Hello! We're the Doctor and Donna Noble. You might have been expecting us," he trilled in greeting and flashed his psychic paper under the man's nose.
Obviously what the man saw impressed him enormously, because he flung open the door, and then smiled broadly. "Come in; it's a cold day that's brought you. We have a room ready and waiting for you both. Jean, my wife, thought you were arriving on Thursday."
"Ah, we like to surprise you," the Doctor replied, after having glimpsed briefly at the paper in his hand.
The man grabbed a key from below the counter that they now knew stood in the entrance hall, featuring a sign proclaiming it to be a B&B owned by Harry and Jean Butler.
"What a lovely place," Donna stated helpfully as they were led further into the building. "Do you do anything here beyond provide accommodation?"
"Oh no," the man they quickly assumed was Harry answered. "There's a craft place down the road if you fancy doing some oil or watercolour painting, or even a spot of calligraphy."
"Not this time, thanks," the Doctor declined.
"Here you are," Harry declared as he reached a room with the number 4 on the door. He opened the door and ushered them in. "There's all mod cons, the en suite is through there and there's spare bedding on the top shelf of the wardrobe. I've given you and your wife our best room so I hope you enjoy your stay with us tonight."
"About that," Donna started to query, but the Doctor interrupted her.
"Do you do food by any chance?" he asked, hoping that if they didn't that at least some refreshment would be offered.
"Why yes. Give us half an hour to set you up a table," Harry supplied, and then immediately bustled off.
Donna waited for the clear sign that Harry had walked away before she asked her first burning question. "Why did you let him think we're married?"
In answer, the Doctor merely lifted their previously covered wrists. "We have to share for the time being, remember."
"In that case we'd better not risk anything more taxing than soup for now," she pointed out. "Not that I hadn't forgotten; not for a second."
"Is that because I'm unforgettable?" he cheekily wondered.
She smiled despite herself. "You could say that, yeah. So…. What's the problem with owning up to us being tied together? And how are we going to ask for those wire cutters?"
"The problem is that we don't know exactly how connected these people are to those men who did this to us," he explained. "As for asking, I'll do what I always do."
"Lie?"
"No!" He glared at her. "I'll make our cover story up as we go along."
"God help us," she murmured. "This I've got to see. Do you think you're capable of acting as though you're in love with me?"
He grinned reassuringly. "I think I can do that."
"Just for the record; don't expect too much snogging," she warned.
With a playful nudge of his shoulder, he wondered, "Are you anticipating some snogging?"
Inevitably she swatted him, but it didn't have the usual power she attained. Damn not being able to use her right hand. It was her favourite.
"So…," she started to say, "all in the space of a day we've been commandeered by some very dodgy people, trusted up by smugglers, left in the middle of nowhere, and assumed to be married hotel inspectors by the local version of Alf Garnet."
"Hotel inspectors employed by a leading holiday company, no less," he boasted. "Nothing but the best with me."
"You tart!" she fondly chided him. "I bet you're loving this. At least we freed that poor creature they were holding from the loch. What was it called again?"
He readily answered, "Ernie."
"No, I don't mean like that, you div! Although he looked an 'Ernie'. I mean his species," she clarified.
"Ah, he is a Nessarian," he supplied, "from the planet Klartoonia, out by the Spar Cluster."
"They've got a Spar?" she immediately wondered.
"As in the shape, not the small grocery shop chain."
"Oh, I see," she sheepishly replied. "I'd wondered why they would. So Ernie will be okay, will he?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Should be. We'll pop by and make sure later, once we've had something to eat."
She held up her hand to remind him. "And got out of these things. Honestly, would it hurt to just ask for a knife or other?"
"Only once we are sure Harry, or whatever his name is, isn't in cahoots with the smugglers and won't march us back to that cellar."
"Yeah, I dunno about you but I don't want to spend another night in there. This room is much better."
"Is that because you are in it with me?" he cheekily suggested as he finished leading her around the room, looking in and behind every single nook and cranny as he went.
It was the light relief she needed, so she laughed merrily at his impudence. "Yeah, because we all know who you'd rather be in a hotel room with."
You. I want you. The words were on his lips, all ready to be spoken, but they never made it out. Instead he made a sort of strangled squeaky sound.
What on earth was wrong with him? He was standing with some inane grin on his face as though he'd just stepped in a cow pat but didn't know how to avoid using the word 'sh!t'. "Are you alright, Doctor?" she asked with deep concern. "You've gone ever so weird. Like, creepy weird."
"I'm fine," he insisted through gritted teeth. "Shall we erm go and find out if this place has a workshop or a garage?"
"Yeah, alright," she agreed, since it seemed like a good idea and he was actually dragging her towards the door so she didn't have much of a choice in it without causing a terrible scene.
Once they were out in the corridor, he lifted his free hand to place his finger against his lips, and told her, "Shush! We have to be quiet."
Well d'uh! Tell her something new. "Who do you think you are? Daniel Craig?" she mocked him in low tones. "Although if you suddenly feel like going all macho with rippling biceps like him in James Bond, don't let me stop you."
If looks could kill!
"Donna, do you have to?" he whined.
It was irresistible for her to retort by stringing out the syllables, "Erm… yeah!" But she followed him faithfully out into the cold outside again. "Oh yay, we're back out here," she muttered sarcastically.
Ignoring that, he led them cautiously around the perimeter of the building until they came to the outer entrance to the kitchen in an annex building which, quite frankly, had seen better days, but at least the door was slightly open. Sneaking in, the Doctor brought out his torch again and flashed it about. "Let me know if you find anything," he whispered.
Donna threw her gaze around the gloom. "Like what? There's all sorts of junk in here."
"The task is get these wrist bindings off," he petulantly reminded her.
"So you won't be interested in this then," she triumphantly remarked as she held up an object she had just found lying next to her on a worktop.
"A knife!" he trilled excitedly, having seen the handle. "You are brilliant. I could kiss you!"
Oh dear! "Let's erm… leave that for when we celebrate later," she suggested, blushing profusely. Trust him to propose the one thing that would throw her for a loop. Damn Martian.
There was a clang from some distance away, heavy footsteps, and then a harsh voice rang out, "Who's in there?!"
"Quick, we've been found," the Doctor hoarsely whispered directly into her ear.
"No kidding, Sherlock," she mumbled, and then let him pull her through the backdoor and out into the night again.
"Must have been that cat!" the same someone bitterly reasoned out.
#~#~#