The Doctor and Donna: Coming to a Reality Near You
Warning/author's note: Some breaking of the fourth wall in this one, I think you'll understand as you go. You'll need to apply the willing suspension of disbelief here; understand that this is a story, and anything can happen. Good luck, and even though this is different, try to enjoy it (because that's the point anyway, isn't it?).
Partially inspired by a dream I had.
"Aren't you done yet?" Donna shouted from the jump seat to the Time Lord on the other side of the console, her tea in hand, and patience thoroughly spent.
The Doctor was fiddling with his latest contraption, pointing the sonic at it and staring intently with the utmost attention and focus, a glistening pink tongue poking from the corner of his mouth.
The Doctor called back, "Almost!"
Donna rolled her eyes, blowing a rapid breath at the straying strand of hair in front of her eyes. After a few more impatient moments, the Doctor bounded over to her, grabbed her by the hand, and took off toward the center of the Tardis, stopping just in front of the entrance ramp. His abrupt halt nearly sent Donna tripping over his body.
She didn't even have time to shout "Oi!" before the Doctor squeezed her hand tightly and hit the button on his newly tinkered wrist band. "Allons-y!" he said excitedly, and in a flash they disappeared, leaving nothing behind them but empty space and the continuous, gentle hum of the Tardis.
The room they end up in is white all around, the solitary feature of the room a holographic, transparent screen, its size comparable to the screen of an outdoor projector. There are letters on it, but from the way Donna and the Doctor are standing, all the words are backwards.
The Doctor is fiddling with his sonic again for Gallifrey knows what reason, while Donna approaches the screen. She walks around to the other side, as the letters appear in succession before her eyes.
Silently, she reads, 'The Doctor, not knowing what else to do, kneels to the ground and licks the smooth surface of the pearl-white floor, applying his same bizarre technique to the machinery around his wrist, and then his own skin.'
Donna watches as the Doctor carries out each aforementioned task, her attention darting from the licking Doctor to the words on the rectangular screen. One eyebrow raises in surprise and intrigue.
As her eyes scan across the written-in-real-time text, she calls to her best mate, "Hey, Spaceman! Come look at this!" She calls him over her shoulder without removing her gaze from the letters as they continue to go across the enormous screen, even as she speaks. "Something weird is going on here." She mumbles to herself, and looks up. "Hey! I just said that!" she exclaims, seeing her own words before her. She gulps, unsure what to think. "Blimey."
"Hello," the Doctor puts on his brainy specs as he approaches the large expanse of letters before him. "What's this then? Whose writing is that?" The Doctor asks, but his expression changes as he notices his own words take form as he utters them.
"Or typing rather." Donna supplies. "Look, the speed of the letters, that's typing." Donna suddenly looks proud and a clever smile spreads across her mouth. "I should know, best temp in Chiswick and all." She winks.
"Hey, look at that little white arrow," the Doctor giggles, trying to follow it with his sonic. Donna stares on incredulously. "You're kidding me. There must be a serious gap in your techno-knowledge, Martian."
"Why?" he pouts, without leaving the feisty arrow be, treating it as a moving target.
"Because the 'little white arrow' you keep miming with your sonic is a mouse." He doesn't acknowledge her in the slightest, so she adds for emphasis, "A computer mouse, almighty Time Lord, and nothing more." Donna's tone is deadpan, mocking the Doctor's amusement. The entertained, even gleeful alien still pays no mind.
Donna exaggeratedly clears her throat, and it's then that the Doctor snaps out of his merriment. "Right! Yes! Mouse! I knew that, of course."
Donna smacks a hand to her forehead and slides her palm down her face.
"So Spaceman, what is it this time? How come there's a giant computer screen in front of us?" She asks, both hands on her hips.
"I don't know, this isn't like the other ones." The Doctor strokes his chin.
"No kidding, Sherlock. Tell me something I don't know." Donna takes a minute to look around the space surrounding them – nothing but an infinite white atmosphere; no doors, windows, ceiling, nothing, not even a speck of dust, of the space variety or otherwise.
As she turned to the screen again, the Doctor was reaching his hand forward, like every other time this had happened. The thought of slapping his arm down had only grazed Donna's mind when his fingertips stroked the screen, creating ripples and waves. Once again, the dynamic duo disappeared.
"Bloody hell!" Donna gasps as she and the Doctor materialize in the very bedroom you're reading this from, and you come very close to falling out of your own seat, scared half to death by the clarity and volume of her voice.
This is the point when you, dear reader, realize you've gotten more than you bargained for when you clicked this title...
Donna is smelling your candles, humming in delight when she picks up the vanilla-scented one. She spots a plush Adipose doll on the same dresser as the candles, "Ohh, Doctor, look!" she smiles and uses the back of her index finger to affectionately stroke it's cheek, but the Doctor is transfixed by the Tardis alarm clock on your other dresser across the room. He's got his glasses on, looking between the well-known blue rectangle and the bright blue numbers glowing on your ceiling.
"Donna…" he says, but she is too busy holding multiple pairs of your earrings to her own ears in the mirror. "It's a clock, shaped as a Tardis…" he takes his brainy specs off and stares in admiration, a smirk forming on his (gorgeous) features. "Now that, is genius."
"Donna." The Doctor says monotonously, as he has now turned around to find his redheaded friend digging through your closet.
"Yeah?" comes the muffled reply. She emerges with a pair of classy black heels, holding them up to examine them closer. "Can I borrow these?" she asks you. You only stare on, completely flabbergasted.
Your attention glides over to the Doctor, currently helping himself to the banana on your desk, munching on it happily. He paces a couple times, and after he swallows another bite, he looks at Donna, "I'll admit, I have no idea how we got here," then at you, "who you are, or what's going on, but I do like that Tardis pillow." He gestures with his snack to the blue square on your left.
He offers some of his banana to Donna, and she wrenches her face away from the half-eaten fruit being prodded towards her mouth.
He shrugs and takes another bite, looking around the room properly for the first time. "How do you know about the Tardis anyway? Can't say that's happened before..." he comments while noticing the Doctor Who poster on your wall, the blue Tardis string lights, the book with the blue 'Keep calm I'm the Doctor' bookmark atop its cover.
Donna has made herself comfortable beside you on the bed, flopping backwards with a colossal exhalation of breath. You're grateful you don't have to come up with an answer to the Doctor's question as it is seemingly forgotten in a moment.
"What now, Spaceman? This is what, the fourth - no, fifth time? I can pilot the Tardis better than you can make that thing work right."
"Oi!" he shoots her a semi-threatening look, but his facade melts and he heaves a sigh, knowing that she is probably right, which says something, considering her driving skills. "Let's go then, I'll get it right next time." The Doctor strides over to your Tardis trash can with his banana peel, and as it opens it emits the familiar whooshing noise. The Doctor is immediately enraptured. "That's better than the clock!"
Donna sits up and shakes her head at the Doctor's childish fascination, then turns to you. "So what's your name then, love?"
You forget how to speak, having Donna Noble close enough to you that you can see the specs of fire amidst her ocean blue eyes turning your brain to goo. "Me… uh…"
Despite your speech malfunction, Donna grins. "Well alright Mia, it was lovely to meet you." You're pretty sure your favorite companion gives you a small hug and a couple of pats on the head. Your viscous brain can't even process it.
The Doctor comes over and gives you a friendly grin (and naturally you nearly faint), pulling Donna to her feet. They take a few steps back, the Doctor tosses something to you which you numbly catch, loops his arm with Donna's, and once he sonics his wrist-band and offers you a salute, Donna waves, the button is pressed, and they vanish.
You wake up, laptop open beside you. You move your finger on the pad and the darkened screen illuminates, displaying the page of your favorite fan fiction website. In your lap is a bag of Jelly Babies.
Later that week, you still can't figure out where your black peep toe heels have gone…