Title: The Little Picture
Author: Emmylou
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: BBC owns everyone and everything. I am happy to let them keep ownership if they continue this trend of bringing certain people back.
Summary: Donna gets mixed up with another evil alien that's only after her body. She needs to find the Doctor, fast. How hard can it be? Rose/Ten.
A/N: This follows on from my 'virtual' Voyage of the Damned fic- The Stowaway. No knowledge of this is needed, other than that The Doctor has been told that Rose will die in the alternate universe in eleven months (in his own timeline) unless he gets her back. Think of this as a 'virtual' first episode of series four.
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"But I don't get it…"
There were sighs from around the lecture hall at the grating voice saying the thing they'd heard too many times in the three weeks since the term had started. Pens were dropped, shoulders slumped, and people zoned out as they waited for the lecturer to explain things yet again.
Sitting at a table by herself and looking totally unapologetic, was Donna Noble. She was surrounded by textbooks and papers, as well as a pink glittery pencil case and a lucky teddy that she insisted on sitting on her table every lesson.
"Why does she even bother showing up?" muttered a smirking blonde boy to a girl with rectangular glasses. He made his feelings clearer by dropping his head onto the desk and pretending to snore.
Donna ignored him and looked straight ahead at the projector, trying to take in the diagram being explained in simpler terms. They thought she didn't know that the group had labelled this 'Donna-Speak'.
After making long and copious notes and asking enough questions to exhaust even the lecturer's patience, Donna finally got to grips with the theory. The class rolled on.
---
Donna brooded over the day's bouts of Donna-Speak for the entire twenty minute wait for her train. It was like it didn't even matter how hard she tried to understand, she still didn't get it. And if she didn't speak up in class, she'd never get it at all.
When she got on, the sunshine blared in through the plastic windows and the heat made her skin prickle.
There was nothing for it. She deserved a treat after today.
She licked her dry lips and tried to look around without being noticed. There were strangers all around. The coast clear, she slipped her hand into her bag and inched the Heat magazine out of it. There were another seven stops left to pour over the shiny pages, but she couldn't concentrate on them.
When she'd signed up for the university, she'd expected some sort of Legally Blonde scenario. She'd done an NVQ at a previous job, which had scraped her into the course. She was keen and she wanted to prove to everyone that Donna Noble was not thick.
So she hadn't expected the label of 'Mature Student'. She hadn't expected everyone to already know each other (or so it seemed). She hadn't expected her parents to roll their eyes ('not another crazystunt, Donna') and complain about her mounting debts.
And now Donna was becoming the latest buzz word for 'thicko' on Campus.
She couldn't give up the gossip magazines. She still watched Big Brother. The big picture she'd been trying to find was still unseen.
When she got home, she dumped her folder, bag, and door keys on the glass dining table and burst into tears. Maybe there really wasn't more to her than Brangelina and Big Brother.
---
Donna arrived on campus early the next day. She wanted to go over everything they'd studied so far, in the hope that there would be a bit less 'Donna-Speak' this time around. She strode along the mercifully deserted corridors towards the library.
"Scuse me…can you pass me that tube?"
She looked down and found a man of about sixty-five crouched on the floor by a grill. He was thin and bearded, and had a tattoo of a dragon on his arm that wouldn't have been out of place on a student. His overalls announced that he worked for Hamlin Pest Control.
He nodded towards a red rubber tube, which she picked up and held for a second.
"If I give this, will you gas a couple of the science lecture halls for me? Just enough to knock them all out before I get there?" she asked with a weak smile.
The man took the tube and began feeding it through the grill. "Sorry luv, we only do vermin," he winked.
"That's why I asked," she grinned. She felt relieved to suddenly find herself with somebody real – who had grown up and lived in the real world, and had bills and work and relationships just like she had before coming to this campus full of teenagers who hadn't done more than a couple of paper rounds. "Hey, I love those adverts of yours on the telly – with the singing rat!"
"Yeah – if I get that jingle sang at me just one more time you'll get to see me really use that tube," said the man. He laughed to show that he wasn't being serious. "I'm Rich, by the way."
"I'm gorgeous," she replied.
Rich laughed. "That you are," he said, with a passable attempt at sincerity. If she had met him before that Christmas she might have even believed him, in a way she just couldn't anymore.
Okay so, he was old (the university probably classed him as ancient, if she was mature) and probably just being polite. But she hadn't said anything so silly and flirtatious in ages, and it felt fantastic to be able to talk to someone without worrying that they thought she was stupid.
Just because she'd sworn off men didn't mean that she couldn't talk to them, did it?
"How about a drink later?" he asked.
Donna gaped. Okay…that was a good deal more than polite talking. That was a date. And he was old enough to be her granddad!
"C'mon…" he wheedled. "You look like you need someone to talk to."
Donna hadn't had a date in a year and a half. Her standard answer to any invite (these were becoming annoyingly infrequent) was a 'no'. Why was she even considering it?
Because he was a nice old man who would be easy to resist…
"Okay," she swallowed. "At The Horseman, around five?"
---
Donna hadn't had any romantic dates or encounters since she'd lost Lance. That drunken snog in Rome with the fit singer hadn't counted, no matter what anyone said. That hadn't involved romance or dating.
And neither would this, she told herself.
The Horseman was a good choice. It was nearer the university than her home, for a start, which meant that she could very easily leave with an excuse about getting a train. It also was a pub that neither anyone from the university nor anyone she knew went to, so no one would actually see her.
She walked there after her last lecture and found Rich waiting. He was leaning up against the bar, lager in hand, bouncing his head along to The Hoosiers and mouthing the words to himself.
"You don't look like the typical Hoosiers fan," she said, as she joined him and ordered white wine for herself.
"They're cool," he shrugged.
She smiled, expecting a smile from him as if to laugh at himself for being 'up' with the 'trendy' slang. No joke came - he had used it as easily as any of the students she saw every day would.
And, white beard aside, he acted young. His clothes weren't obvious, but the turquoise shirt and sandy trousers were the smart-casual clothes of a twenty year old.
Rich was also polite. He asked a lot of questions about her – where did she live, what was she studying, did she have a family? Donna couldn't remember talking about herself so much in years. She found herself talking about Lance a lot, but Rich was sympathetic. It was only as the time came when she had to leave or miss her last train, that she realised she'd barely asked him anything at all.
"Ten more minutes…" he wheedled, inching closer to her across the seats they'd taken about an hour before.
"I can't," she sighed. "Got a train to catch…"
Rich leaned in and kissed her. She froze, this was not as expected, in fact it was kind of weird, but no one had paid her attention in a long time...
"I'll drive," he breathed after pulling away.
"After all those pints?" she smiled back.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. "We'll get a taxi."
He hackles were raised by this further pleading. Why the hell was he pressing this? "No. I'll call you, I will. But I need to get home."
She stood, brushed down her skirt, and left the pub. The air was cool for a September night and it wasn't properly dark yet, just that strange royal blue colour in between dusk and night. Donna's flat shoes slapped against the paving slabs.
"Donna wait!"
The pub door banged open and Rich jogged to catch up with her.
"Goodnight," she said firmly. She didn't even look back. The broken, ice-queen part of her that had been urging her to make her excuses all night cheered her on.
Rich reached her side and slowed her down. "Look, that was a mistake," he panted. "Don't ruin the rest of the night. Can I walk you to the station?"
Donna's willpower trembled. "Just to the station, you can get a cab home from there, right?"
He nodded and they started walking. Rich asked her yet more about herself. "Do you mind me asking- exactly how old are you?" he said curiously.
She laughed. "Guess!"
For the tiniest second he looked annoyed but he recovered quickly. "I'm smart enough never to try and guess a lady's age," he smirked.
"No- guess!" she pressed, still grinning up at him.
"Donna, I'm being serious," said Rich.
Donna stopped and looked up at him warily. "Why? What's my age matter to you?"
Rich looked down at her, muttering almost to himself. "You are older than I would've liked, but I've been working so hard on the project that I haven't had time to attract a younger partner…"
"Excuse me?" Donna reeled back. "'Older than you would have liked'? Have you even looked in the mirror, pal?!"
"I need you," he hissed.
In a second he had swooped down and kissed her again. This time there was no romance – only a strange sort of hunger that had nothing to do with lust.
Donna raised her hand back and slapped him. The blow literally knocked him to the floor.
"You dirty old perv!" she shrieked. "Help! Someone help!"
There were too many hysterically shrieking drunk slappers in this part of town most nights to attract more than a casual look from a wary passer-by. She could fend for herself, but it annoyed her none-the-less. She didn't doubt if she'd been young and blonde and wearing a mini things might have been different.
"You have years ahead of you…give them to the Shadows…" hissed Rich from the pavement. He was shaking and seemed to be having a hard time getting back up.
Donna backed away from him, ready to run, or at least slap him again if he tried anything. "Look, forget it, alright? You've had a bit to drink. I'll call you a cab…"
"This body ages too quickly…" panted Rich. "Give yourself to me." She looked into Rich's eyes and saw them glow with a strange white light.
Oh god, she'd done it again - another alien only after her body.
"Get away from me!" she yelled, as he made a grab for her ankle.
The Alien-Rich hybrid attempted to clamber back to his feet but Donna was already backing away.
"I dunno what you are, but you're gonna be sorry!" She sounded more hysterical than threatening, but she didn't care anymore. "I got this mate – the Doctor – and believe me when I tell him about this he's gonna be MAD!"
She backed away. The Alien-Rich thing was making groaning noises that didn't sound human anymore.
"And – and," she rattled on as she backed away, "-and he's tall and knows this, like, alien Kung-Fu, and you are gonna be so, SO, sorry!"
"I NEED you…" the thing groaned. He managed to stagger forwards.
Donna turned and ran.
Okay, so she was on her own in the middle of the night. She had a couple of quid in her pockets, and only a Heat magazine, her study-folder, and a teddy-bear for assets.
What she needed was to find the Doctor.
How hard could it be?
---
A/N: Thank you to everyone that reviewed The Stowaway and requested a sequel. It's kind of a slow burning one, I'm afraid, that will cover the episodes (or at least my version of them) through season four. Hope I do it justice and please let me know what you think.
No Doctor in this part – however you won't have too long to wait. I'd like to know what you think of my Donna
