"So, Charlie Chaplin, huh?" The Doctor propped his feet up on the TARDIS console, crossing his arms.
"He's brilliant," Donna said squarely. "Grandad and I watch his movies all the time."
"I never much cared for him," the Time Lord admitted.
"He revolutionized silent comedy!"
The Doctor shrugged. "I like my talking, me," he told her. "But if that's who you want to see…" He reached out with one converse-covered foot and flipped a lever, a grin spreading across his face. "...I'll try anything once."
"Oh, I knew you would." She answered his grin with one of her own as he jumped to his feet to set the TARDIS in motion.
"Right then. 1935, the height of his popularity. If I time it right, we can get advance tickets-"
The phone rang, cutting off his chatter. Donna stared at him.
"You've got a phone?"
"Course I've got a phone, what sort of phone box would this be without one?" He nodded to the receiver, nestled in its cradle on the console. "Go on, answer it."
"Me?"
"Why not?"
Straightening her shoulders and putting on her best temp voice, Donna picked up the phone. "Thank you for calling the TARDIS. This is Donna Noble, how can I help you?"
The Doctor smirked at her formality. Donna listened for a moment, then held the receiver to her chest, gaping at him. "It's Winston Churchill!" she hissed.
"What does he want?"
"What does he- I can't just ask Winston Churchill what he wants!" She looked completely scandalized at having to make such a brass request to such an important person. "Isn't he dead?"
"Oh, give it here," the Doctor said, grabbing the phone. "Hello?"
He listened for a while, nodding, then typed a set of coordinates into the TARDIS console. "We'll be there soon," he promised, before hanging up and turning to Donna. "I'm afraid we're going to have to cancel our plans," he told her, already recalibrating his time machine. "Some bionic weaponry he wants us to check out. Very ahead of its time. Duty to Queen and country, after all. Or King and country, I guess. How do you feel about 1945?"
"Weren't we at war?"
"Ah, bit of local color, that's all. It's almost done anyway. Come on," he wheedled, darting around the console and grabbing her shoulders. "History, happening right there in front of our eyes, and the Prime Minister of Great Britain wants us to come have a look at it. How can you say no?"
Donna laughed. "Like I ever would. Space man." She shoved him affectionately. "Go on, then. Let's go."
"Ha, I knew you would!" The Doctor darted around, flipping levers and pressing buttons left and right. "Allons-y!" He laughed as the engines started to roar, knocking them around the room. Both held onto the console edge, familiar with the TARDIS's erratic flight patterns.
"Should be a short trip," shouted the Doctor over the noise. "Just a quick hop into the past, not even a century. Won't take but a minute."
"Do you know how bloody insane that sounds?" Donna yelled back, smiling in spite of himself.
"Wouldn't be me if it didn't. Woah!" The TARDIS landed with a lurch, throwing them both forward. The Doctor dusted off his long brown coat, then helped Donna up. "Here we are, then. Ready?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. Is anyone ever ready for something like this?" she asked. "I mean, we're going back in time. 1945, right out there!"
The Doctor held his serious face for a moment, then broke into a grin. "I know exactly how you feel." He took her arm and steered her towards the doors, placing one hand on one of the handles. "Together, then."
Smiling, Donna took the other. "Together." And, beautifully synchronized, they pulled open the wooden doors.
"That's what I get for being fancy," the Doctor muttered. They had landed, not in Churchill's office as planned, but in the middle of what looked to be an impromptu army base. Young men in uniforms were running errands, playing cards, or relaxing with their friends. And, as was somehow the usual case, not one had noticed the blue police box landing to the side of their camp. It was all astonishingly historical.
"Thought I could track it just by the call," the Doctor continued, stepping out and closing the door behind him, "but those old lines are so unpredictable. Should have asked for coordinates. Ah, well. Come on!"
He led the way through the camp, Donna following just behind. Without hesitation, the Time Lord strode up to one young man sitting by himself, intently reading a small book.
"Stars, eh? I understand the appeal," he said with a grin. "There's a lot more than just what's in that book, though."
The young soldier jumped, startled out of his reading. "Yes, sir. I don't doubt it, sir."
"Oh, enough with the 'sir'." The Doctor waved off the man's salute. Really, Donna thought, he didn't hardly seem old enough to be a man at all. He couldn't be more than eighteen.
"What can I do for you?" he asked, stowing his book in a pocket and getting to his feet. Donna grinned, seeing him visibly fight off another 'sir'.
"Well, you could start with your name." The Doctor's smile was easygoing, designed to put the young man at ease.
"I'm-" he began, then seemed to change his mind. "Freddie."
"Pleased to meet you, Freddie. I'm the Doctor, this is Donna." Donna nodded a hello. "Listen, we're supposed to meet Mr. Churchill, but we've taken a bit of a wrong turn. I don't suppose you'd know where he's at?"
The man - Freddie - shifted uncomfortably. "I'd need to see some identification, sir."
"Of course." The Doctor dug in his pocket, finally pulling out the small black case Donna knew contained psychic paper. "Here you are."
Freddie looked at it for a second, then handed it back. "Thank you. Just doing my job."
"Good for you," Donna said warmly. She liked him, and hadn't missed that he was sitting by himself.
"This way." He strode off through the base, the time-traveling pair behind him.
This did not escape the attention of the other soldiers. "Hey, Freddie!" one called. "Where you going?"
"To see Churchill," Freddie called back. Donna saw him stiffen.
"Why, you gonna get a medal?" the heckler jeered. "Oh wait, I forgot. You never actually shot anyone." His friends snickered.
"Never have, never will," muttered Freddie under his breath. "At least, not if I can help it."
The Doctor said nothing, but Donna could tell the young man had earned his respect.
The rest of their journey passed quickly. The Doctor and Freddie fell into conversation - as soon as the young man discovered that his newfound companion was a veritable expert on outer space, he was bursting with questions. Donna trailed a bit behind, taking in the scenery.
No matter how many times she traveled with the Doctor, she would never get used to stepping outside a door she'd gone into only minutes before and finding herself in an entirely different world. And war-torn England was a different world, make no mistake. She saw it in the beaten landscape, in the alertness, the tiredness, the hardness behind the eyes of the people they passed.
Suddenly they were there. Donna snapped back to paying attention as Freddie rapped smartly on the door. "Two to see the commander, sir," he called. Another officer came to the door, but the Doctor simply handed him the psychic paper and, with a wave goodbye to Freddie, they were in.
The officer led the pair through the base into a bustling command center crowded with uniformed people of all kinds dashing about. In the middle of the room, a young woman read off a stack of reports for a large, older gentlemen, who was bent over a table covered in military figurines. He was clearly in charge.
"...the platoon should be back within the hour, sir," she told him. "All preliminary reports point to a full success."
"Thank you, Lillian. What of the Messerschmidt's? Last we saw, the buggers were-"
"Ah, Doctor, welcome. Good to see you." Winston Churchill, commander in chief of His Majesty's Army, welcomed them congenially, patting the Doctor warmly on the back.
"And you, Prime Minister." The Doctor shook the esteemed man's hand with every ounce of enthusiasm he could muster. "Er… Have we met?"
"Not in this face, at least. Another new one?" The Doctor's surprise must have shown in his face, for Churchill chuckled. "Oh, come now, you must have known we'd look into you. You don't exactly fly under the radar, you know."
"One of these days I'll have to do something about that," the Time Lord replied cheerfully. "How goes it with you?"
"Not as well as could be hoped; but then, wars rarely do." He shrugged his massive shoulders. "We're taking everything one heartbeat at a time, and trying to keep as many heartbeats going as possible." Eyeing the Doctor, he added, "You'll be willing to do your bit, I'm sure?"
"Anything I can," the Doctor promised.
Churchill smiled, then turned to Donna. "I don't think I've made your acquaintance."
"Oh, Donna, Donna Noble." She smiled uneasily, not sure if she should shake his hand as well. Curtsy, maybe? But then the moment was gone.
"Pleased to meet you. This way, please." Dismissing the officer, Churchill led them down another hall, out of the war room.
Donna, walking just behind the Doctor, leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "You know him?"
"Not yet, but apparently I will," he answered in an undertone. "Earlier in his timeline, later in mine." He shrugged. "Always good to know I'll get a later."
"Through here," Churchill called, holding aside a metal curtain to let them through. "We do our best to keep it shielded. No one's quite sure what the side effects will be."
"What, are you doing something with radiation?" the Doctor asked, stepping through the doorway. They'd entered a well-stocked laboratory, full of old machines Donna didn't have a hope of recognizing, much less understanding. "Doesn't look like radiation. That'd make sense for this time period, though, although if you think a little curtain'll stop that from getting out-"
"I'll let the expert explain," Churchill said, cutting him off neatly. "John, our guests are here. Come say hello."
A young, somewhat scrawny man stepped out of the shadows, wearing comically large goggles and a heavy apron. "Pleased to finally meet you, Doctor," he said, almost breathless with excitement. "I've heard so much about you."
"Doctor, Donna," Churchill said, striding over and putting an arm around the man's shoulders, "allow me to introduce our resident genius, Mr. John Lumic."
Author's Note: Hello, friends! I'm back. This will likely be a more single-episode story, so shorter and less complicated than some of my past works, but I'm pretty excited about it. I'm going to do my best to put in as much history as I can, but I am an American, and we learned very little about anything ever from a British perspective, so some things may be a bit skewed. If you see anything that needs correcting, do please let me know! Those of you who've been following my work know that I absolutely love to hear from my readers in any form!
-Forever the Optimist