Disclaimer: I don't own it, I just live here.
Continuity note: This story is preceded by following episodes of "Doctor Who – The Virtual Series Five":
1 – "Past Future Continuous"
2 – "The Art of Forgetting"
3 – "The August Sky"
DOCTOR WHO
THE VIRTUAL SERIES 5 – EPISODE 4
ON A PALE HORSE
.1. The Unpredictable Convergence
A door of a blue police box squeaked and creaked open. A slim face, topped with a mop of brown, messy hair appeared in the gap. Large, dark eyes looked around cautiously. A pointed chin seemed to challenge the entire world outside.
"Well, what?"
The owner of keen eyes, messy hair and aggressive chin, irritably sucked the air, as Donna nudged him in the ribs, trying to widen the gap and to have her own peek outside. For a moment they struggled with the door – the Doctor trying to close it, Donna trying to open it ajar. Finally the Doctor gave up and stepped, or rather fell out of the TARDIS. His converses sunk deep into lush, wet, juicily green grass. Donna was next to jump out of the ship, catching her heel on the threshold and almost landing nose first on the living carpet full of chirping cicadas. Somehow she managed to regain her balance, grabbing the Doctor's elbow.
"It's not an unpredictable convergence of temporal streams," she announced, straightening up and smoothing a bottle green, deep cut tunic, exposing her cleavage and freckled shoulders. She walked away from the box in three long steps and turned on her heel, scrutinising the surroundings.
"Nor the end of the world, nor impossible-to-predict-time-space-location," she said folding her arms on her chest and giving the man a provocative glance. "It's not even Slough."
"Why... Why Slough? What has Slough ever done to you?" The Doctor unsuccessfully tried to save the remains of his honour.
"Green grass, blue sky, a singular, yellow sun; this is nettle, and over there, in the orchard, those are apple trees, without apples, unfortunately. And it's going to rain." Donna didn't intend to deny herself this tiny portion of spite. "Judging by gathered evidence, it is quite safe to say, that this is..."
"The Earth," the Doctor finished, resignation in his voice. He turned towards the TARDIS and gently patted her wooden camouflage. "And what's wrong with you again? Eh? What were all those turbulences for?"
"What's wrong with her?" Donna snorted. "You know what they say? A bad workman blames his flying box."
"What?" The Doctor looked at her, his eyebrows shooting upwards.
"How was she supposed to fly with an ass for a pilot?" Donna chided.
"Donna!" Eyebrows went down and almost met above the narrow nose.
"You said you'd let me drive!" She shook her fiery mane. "You never let me drive!"
"Right, 'cause you would land her better," the Doctor sneered.
"I don't know if you know, but women are much better drivers than men," Donna said angrily. "The number of accidents they cause is significantly lower. So is their insurance. And I'm sure I wouldn't get lost. We were going to the beach, right? Well, I can't see the sea anywhere, mister Don't-Touch-The-Date-Selector!"
"I didn't get lost!" the Doctor protested weakly.
"Where are we then?"
"DonNA!"
Nobody would bring the Doctor to boil as easily as Miss Noble.
"All right, I agree, we're on Earth. I have no idea why or when. The TARDIS is obviously damaged, we may be in serious trouble, so, fine, you're right, this is not an unpredictable convergence," he scatted. "But it doesn't mean it's not the end of the world."
"I'd be surprised if it wasn't." She shrugged. "It is always the end of the world with you."
"With me?" The Doctor's eyes almost popped out from their sockets. "With me?! Now it's my fault?! You know what, maybe you should find some other Time Lord to travel with. No, wait... Last of the Time Lords, remember?!"
"Yeeeah..." She pulled her most annoying face – head tilted to the side, eyes turned upwards, lips mouthing a mocking "O." Still cross, but slightly ashamed and amused at the same time, the Doctor turned on his heel, marched past Donna and started climbing the hill. Donna followed him with her gaze, a tiny, crooked smile on her lips.
The Doctor paused on the top of the hill, knee-deep in rippling grass. His slim figure was distinctly silhouetted against the sky. A cool wind was tugging at his coat's tails. Raising a hand the Doctor ruffled his hair. Donna knew this gesture all too well. Translated into words it would mean: "Eeerm... Umm... Oops."
"What?" Donna yelled over the whistling of the wind and chirruping of cicadas.
The Doctor turned towards her with vague expression on his face. "We're in the Middle Ages," he shouted back.
"Right, you should've parked her better!" Donna shouted.
"What?"
"The TARDIS!"
"What?!"
"So she wouldn't drift off to the Middle Ages!"
"What are you talking about?!"
"Ooh, nothing really." She shrugged again, lowering her voice. "It only further confirms my theory that you can't be bothered listening to your own prattle."
"DonNA!" He was running downhill, coat fluttering.
"And what is it you don't like in the Middle Ages?" she snorted. "What's wrong with the Middle Ages? I have never been to the Middle Ages."
"Donna Noble," he rapped out. "The Middle Ages. Trouble."
"Knights," she shot back. "Dames. Tournaments. King Arthur."
"What... What about King Arthur? Your King Arthur is a collection of myths; I've met the real King Arthur; trust me, you wouldn't want to meet King Arthur. Nor any of his Knights of the Round Table, which, nota bene, had all the chances of remaining a Square Table forever. And a courtly love was invented by the French, hundreds of years later."
Carried by sheer momentum, the Doctor reached the TARDIS's door and opened it ajar, urging Donna in with wide gestures. Donna's eyes narrowed for a second, full of dangerous sparks. She uncrossed her arms and rested her hands on her hips.
"When are you going to cut it out?"
"What?"
"I'm asking... When... Are you going... To cut it out?!"
"Cut what? Donna, stop it and listen to me for a..."
"NO!"
The Doctor let go of the TARDIS's door and turned to Donna. They glared at each other, their feet sunk into green carpet, cicadas and birds chirruping around them, wind humming above the valley. Clouds drifted slowly across the glorious summer sky.
"I'm not made of glass," Donna said finally.
"It's quite obvious," the Doctor said in an undertone.
"Nor sugar," Donna continued, her nostrils wide with fury.
He pulled a face. "Nooo, you're not so sweet, definitely, no."
Donna didn't smile. "I won't break and I won't dissolve!"
The Doctor kept his silence, his grin disappearing gradually.
"You don't have to make a fuss over me," Donna snorted. "You don't have to deny yourself all the pleasures and avoid all the risks just because of me. And if you think I'm such a dead weight, maybe you should take me back home, and find someone you can trust. Last time I've checked, I wasn't the last human."
The Doctor slowly pushed his hands into the trousers' pockets. He fixed his large, dark eyes on Donna as if he saw her for the first time in his life. He opened his mouth to say something, but he just inhaled, touching the roof of his mouth with a tip of his tongue.
This irritated Donna even more. "If I'm just a trou..."
"I've almost lost you," the Doctor interrupted quietly and urgently.
"...ble... mmmhm...?" What was supposed to be an articulated word, maybe even a sentence, somehow got stuck in Donna's throat. "What?"
"Nothing. You're right. It's just the Middle Ages, after all," the Doctor said quickly, taking his hands out of his pockets and almost running around Donna on some crazy orbit. "All right then. OK. Fine. C'mon, let's go through the wardrobe, I have plenty costumes for the Middle Ages. Did I tell you about the time when I ran into Lionhart? Or Charles LeMagne in Ardennes? I think I still have those long-nosed turn-shoes... I won't put them on for me dear life, mind you... They were called seezms, or seeshms... or whatevertheirname. Anyway, there was that fashion; it came from Eastern Europe; so fashionable shoes had elbow length noses, you had to bind them to your knee, otherwise it was impossible to make a step, and then you looked completely ridiculous, cause when you walked you were sort of hopping, you know, hopping and hoping not to fall..."
Donna wanted to stop him at first, to say something really important, but in the Doctor's babble it suddenly didn't seem so important after all. She just shrugged her shoulders.
"Well I want a dress," she announced. "And a veil."
"Right, cause it'll be fantastic for running," he commented, jumping on board the TARDIS. Donna followed him with a small, bright, triumphant smile.
To be continued...