Donna had to admit, the Doctor had been acting a bit strangely the past few days, even for him. She hadn't thought much of it, to be honest. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with him, per se; he was just a little distracted. He was probably dealing with something Time Lordy that she had no business sticking her nose into. His choices of destinations, however, were beginning to get annoying.
It had started innocently enough. A day in New York City, 1988. They walked through Central Park, rode the subway, caught a show, nearly got robbed; the full New York experience. A quiet day by their standards.
The mood between the pair was jovial until they arrived back at the TARDIS. They stood in front of the box for a long while, observing the graffiti that had been scrawled across the front. A drawing of a bulldog with a top hat and a cigar in its mouth. It wasn't half bad to be honest. Below it, the letters POK, which Donna assumed to be the name of the artist.
"I thought you said people can't see the TARDIS unless you want them to. If I had a penny for every time we came back to this box covered in graffiti and posters, I could buy my own bloody time machine by now."
"I never said people can't see it, Donna, just that they'll tend to overlook it. It's hard to overlook something that's covering part of a wall that someone happens to be adorning with legally ambiguous art. Especially when that someone is actively seeking to deface it." The last few words had a bite to them that captured Donna's attention. She turned to look at the time lord, and was surprised to find that he actually looked upset. Like, properly upset. As if he would have to hose the TARDIS down himself.
"What's with you, Mr. High and Mighty Lord of Time? It's not like you have to scrub it off yourself everytime this happens."
The Doctor's head whipped around to face Donna. "That's not the point! It's the principle, Donna!"
"Well, it's not like it's the same person every time you come here, just waiting for the TARDIS to show up, so he can wreck it."
The Doctor said nothing, holding a tight-lipped gaze on Donna. Her eyes widened after a beat.
"NO!"
The Doctor remained silent, but turned to glare at the offending tags again as Donna erupted with laughter.
"Oh this is just brilliant! Do Martians have turf wars? Like with proper gang names, and gang colors and territories? Is the Doctor really just your street name?"
"What? No! Donna, this is serious!"
"No. Really. It's not," she replied, breathy with the remnants of her laughter. "I'm turning in. Try not to stand out here brooding all night, yeah?"
The Doctor merely growled in reply, following Donna inside.
§§§
The next day brought them to another city. This one in the 38th century on a planet that Donna couldn't be bothered to remember the name of. All she cared about was the fact that the Doctor had taken her straight to the mall without a single "why would you want to waste your day shopping while there's a whole culture to explore?", given her a credit stick, thrown in a quick "Meet me at the TARDIS later and we'll go out for dinner. Brilliant restaurants here. Can't pass through and not stop at one." and then wandered off to who knows where. She thought that was absolutely perfect. She thought it was less perfect, however, when she found herself struggling to juggle several bags full of items with no one to help her carry any of it. Taking it as a sign that she'd done her fair share of shopping for the day, Donna decided to retire to the TARDIS to both empty her arms and see what the Doctor had in mind for dinner.
She was a bit surprised to find the TARDIS empty. A short streak of worry ran through her before she reminded herself that the Doctor was a grown man and could take care of himself. Mostly. It was a peaceful planet, she reminded herself, the worst trouble he could get himself into was probably jaywalking. That still did nothing for her hunger, however, which was becoming more and more apparent. If he didn't get back soon, she was going to throw together a sandwich with leftovers from the other night, and he was going to have to deal with it. Brilliant restaurants her arse.
As soon as the thought left her mind, the Doctor burst through the door, panting, and with a mad grin plastered on his face.
"Donna! Ready for dinner?"
Donna took a step back, insulted by his energy level. No one should be that wired at sunset, not even him. And there was definitely a new smell wafting through the air. Not a particularly bad smell, but an odor nonetheless. Some sort of chemical. It was a bit familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.
"Not if you're planning on running there, you maniac. And what is that smell?"
The Doctor's shoulders sagged as confusion replaced excitement. "What? What smell?" he asked, lifting his arm to his nose.
"I dunno," replied Donna, approaching him and taking a good whiff. "It's like some sort of chemical I think."
"Oh! I was near a construction site most of the day. I'll just take off my coat. Should help." He shed his coat, threw it over the railing, and walked back outside, rambling off different food options. He still smelled, but she was too hungry to care.
§§§
Looking back, she probably should have started to become suspicious on day three, as they had landed in yet another earth-like city. Donna loved a good city as much as the next person, but things were getting a bit repetitive considering they had all of time and space at hand. She told the Doctor as much.
"Oh, but look! The NeoMet has a new exhibit on 26th century Europan pop art. You'll love it Donna. And I promise to take you wherever you want next."
Donna gave the Doctor a hard look. "The beach. No city. No civilization. Just sand and surf and sun."
"I know...96 perfect spots just off the top my head. Donna Noble shall have her beach," he replied with a genuine smile on his face.
She thought that the exchange had gone much too smoothly, (he was a bit too quick to agree to doing absolutely nothing) but she was a firm believer that the inside of a gift horse's mouth was its own business, so she followed him to the museum without another word on the subject. It wasn't bad, the museum. It was actually quite good, and she found that she was enjoying herself. That is, until the Doctor wandered off.
"Be right back," was all he said before bounding off into the next room. That had been 20 minutes ago, and Donna was starting to not enjoy herself more and more with each additional minute that passed. Where the hell was that alien? Finally fed up, she wandered into the room she had seen him enter, only to find it empty of visitors save for a blue...something with more legs than she cared to count.
Donna walked through the room and found herself in the main entrance rotunda. Again, a feeling of worry passed through her, and again she pushed it away. He'd probably gotten distracted by "all of the brilliant culture" or something else equally as vague that only he would get excited about. Regardless, she was still a bit disheartened by the fact that he had essentially left her. How many times had he told her not to wander off? Hypocrite.
At any rate, she remembered where the TARDIS was parked, and could return whenever she was ready. Of course, that was assuming that he hadn't wandered right off the planet and left her stranded. She immediately disregarded the thought, leaving that panic attack for later.
She turned around and headed back to the room they had last been in together, deciding to wait for him there. She felt like a lost child in a department store. With that thought, she briefly considered going to the help desk and sending out a page for the man, but decided to give him a bit more time. She didn't want to seem too needy.
As she marched toward guest services half an hour later, she decided that the only thing she would need is someone to restrain her from murdering her best friend.
§§§
Donna was greeted by a desk attendant, and asked the name of the person she had lost before she could even take a breath to speak.
"How did you know that's what I came here for?" she asked, slightly taken aback.
"All guest services attendants are at least mid-level telepaths so that we may better serve our guests, ma'am." Of course they were. She wondered who else around here was having a peek at her and suddenly found herself very ready to leave, Doctor or no Doctor.
As soon as Donna opened her mouth to reply she was hit by the flaw in her plan. Or rather, her lack of plan. She couldn't very well send out a page for "The Doctor" now, could she? Who knew how many proper doctors were wandering around the place. She'd heard him use John Smith on occasion, but that was such a painfully common name, that it couldn't end well either. She cursed herself for not making him come up with a better pseudonym before now. What name could he possibly recognize as hi-
Ah.
Yes.
That would work. And she would kill him later for it.
"This is a guest page for Doctor Noble. Will Doctor Noble please come to guest services. Your party is waiting."
Donna recognized the look on the Doctor's face when he came skittering around the corner 5 minutes later and locked eyes with her. It was the face of a man desperate for his life.
"Now Donn-"
"AN HOUR!" Donna yelled as she stormed over to him. His eyes became saucers as he brought his hands up in defense.
"Donna, I'm sorry! I-"
"On what planet does an hour count as being right back?"
"Several actually. Especially in in the Sernek system, where-" he began before quickly realizing that he was answering the wrong question. "It was an accident. I lost track of time, I swear!"
"You're a Time Lord!How do you lose track of time?"
The Doctor's shoulders sagged slightly. "I, er, I found a very interesting exhibit?"
Donna merely huffed in reply and marched out the door.
"I'll make it up to you tomorrow! I promise! All the beach you can handle!"
§§§
When Donna woke the next morning, she had a feeling that her beach capacity was not going to be reached. Whatever that idiot friend of hers was dealing with, she was going to have to wait until he got over it. So, when she saw the note on the kitchen table en route to breakfast, she didn't even bother to read it before making a cup of tea and grabbing a muffin to go with it. Sitting at the table, Donna picked up the note.
"Donna," it said in English, beneath the beginnings of some Gallifreyan that had been hastily crossed out, "had to get a part for the TARDIS. Be back in a jiffy. Be ready for the beach!" Donna replaced the note on the table and finished her breakfast before strolling over to the console room and opening the front door.
The sight that greeted her was breathtaking. Crystal spires reached into the sky further than her eyes could see. Combined with the twin suns, they created more lighting effects than she ever thought possible. It was the most beautiful city she'd ever witnessed. She kicked the door shut on her way back inside the TARDIS. It was a good day to finish that novel.
§§§
12 hours and 32 minutes later, (Yes she had kept track, because someone had to.) Donna's nose was assaulted by the same chemical odor from two nights before. She quickly realized that the TARDIS was informing her of the return of a certain someone. Even the ship must be annoyed, she thought to herself, to go through the trouble of redirecting the ventilation like that. Pausing the show she was watching, Donna got up and started to stroll towards the console room. Suddenly, the ground shifted beneath her and she was forced to catch her balance on the wall. Apparently, the Doctor had decided to move the ship as soon as he had arrived.
She waited for the landing, and then strolled into the console room as if nothing was out of the ordinary. The Doctor stood tense at the door with his back to her. Beyond him, she could see her perfect beach day. Too bad her internal clock was currently registering night. He whipped around at the sound of a loose grate clanking under her feet as she neared.
"Donna!" he exclaimed, clearly spooked by her arrival, but with a wide grin plastered over his face. "Look, Donna! See? The perfect beach, just like I promised. I always keep my promises!" he said whipping his arm outside.
Donna stared at him, expression blank, arms crossed. Slowly, she spoke. "Spaceman, how long were you gone?"
The Doctor's face fell for a moment before he caught himself and continued the act. "Now Donna, time is relative, so you'll have to be more spec-"
"I can start yelling if you'd like."
"14 hours, 32 minutes, and 8 seconds," he blurted out. "Donna I'm sorry! I really, truly am! I'm so so sorry!" He cried, closing the remaining distance between them and wrapping his arms around her. Donna stiffened in shock before relaxing and gently hugging him back.
"Doctor, is everything alright? You've been so distracted lately. Is something the matter? Something I can help with?"
After a brief silence, Donna felt the Doctor deflate. He released her and held her shoulders at arm's length. He was still smiling, but not with the manic energy from before. "I can't hide anything from you, can I?"
"Were you actually trying to? Because you're terrible at it if you were."
"Oi! I thought we were feeling sorry for me!"
"Just tell me what's wrong!"
The Doctor dropped his arms back to his sides and leaned against the console. "You're right; I've been distracted the past few days." Donna settled beside him, and he continued. "You see, there's this problem that I've been working on for quite a while, and I think I've finally found the answer."
"Oh, " Donna replied, pleasantly surprised, "that's good then, yeah?"
"Yep! Everything should be hunky-dory come tomorrow! " he announced with a grin.
"Hunky-dory? Really? That's probably the worst decision you've made in the past few days."
The Doctor frowned. "Yes. Yes, you're absolutely right about that. Don't let me say that again." Replacing his smile, he continued. "But really, we'll be back to business as usual in no time."
"That's good. I was beginning to worry," Donna admitted.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about me."
"Yes I do. Who's going to take me to the planet of the hats if something happens to you?" she replied, turning to leave. "I'll see you in a few hours."
"A few hours! Where are you going? I thought you wanted to go to the beach!"
She paused and looked at him, putting as much "you are an intergalactic idiot" into her expression as she could muster. As his look of confusion melted into a look of embarrassment, she assumed that she had gotten the message across. "You were gone all day, you dunce. I'm going to bed." And with that, she continued on her way.
"Oh, yes, right. Well, it'll be here waiting when you wake up."
"Whatever you say, Spaceman," she tossed back as she left the room.
"What's that supposed to mean!" she heard him call out as she made her way down the hall.
§§§
Donna woke a little over an hour later, cursing herself for having such a large glass of water so soon before bed. She really should have known better. She did, however, know better than to be surprised when she felt a jolt as she flushed the toilet. The TARDIS had landed. The only surprising part was that the Doctor had waited over an hour to do whatever he was doing.
Curious, and suddenly more awake than she ought to be, Donna made her way to the the console room. Once there, she looked around to find it empty, which wasn't all that strange. The strange part was the front door, which was slightly ajar. The Doctor never just left the door open. She could see a sliver of moonlight peeking through. Cautiously, she approached the it.
She squinted into the darkness. They were in an alley. She could make out the lights of passing cars at one end. The murmur of city nightlife swam through the air around her. Taking a closer look at the wall, she saw it was covered with familiar graffiti. They were back in New York. Around the same time they had been there last, if the state of the graffiti was any indicator.
Her thoughts began to stray back to the Doctor and his sudden absence when she suddenly became aware of a hissing sound. And that smell again! Was it a gas leak? Did the TARDIS have a gas leak? Did time machines even get gas leaks? It would explain the Doctor's behavior. He seemed to love the ship more than anything else in existence. But no, the sound wasn't come from the box; it was coming from further down the alley.
Going against her better judgement, Donna slowly made her way toward the noise, hugging the wall as she did so. She came to the end and stopped. Whatever the noise was, it's source was right around the corner. Channeling all the courage she could muster, she slowly peeked around the corner. Instantly, she was both relieved and concerned by the hooded figure tagging the wall a few steps ahead of her. It could have been worse. It could have been a ravenous beast of an alien hell bent on being ravenous in her general direction. But as it was, she didn't want to get caught snooping on what could possibly be gang related activity either. She was about to sneak back to the TARDIS as quietly as she came, when she noticed the guy's shoes. More specifically, the red trainers. And now that she was paying attention, as dark as it was, she could tell that those jeans were the wrong shade of blue. In fact, they weren't jeans at all, they were...
"Doctor, what the hell?"
Considering the speed at which the Doctor's head whipped around and the width to which his eyes snapped, Donna was surprised that his eyeballs didn't launch right out of his skull and smack her in the face.
"Donna!"
"Doctor…"
"You're not asleep," he observed, can of spray paint in hand still raised to the wall.
"Oh really? I hadn't noticed. Though, I might as well be asleep, because I know you can't possibly be doing what I think you're doing. And what the are you wearing?" The Doctor opened his mouth to answer, but Donna instantly put up a hand, silencing him. "And if you tell me that it's a 21st century hoodie, I swear I will wring your little Time Lord neck." The resulting frown from the Time Lord in question told Donna that's exactly what he was about to say. "No, dummy, I want to know why you're wearing it? You never change, always the same two suits. And don't think I don't see you have your blue suit on underneath. If you're going to pretend to be a thug, at least do it properly. You can't be a half thug, half...whatever you're supposed to be," she exclaimed, motioning up and down his entire body.
"Well, I didn't want to go and get paint on my suit. It would never come out."
"Then wear something else. Or, even better, DON'T GO AROUND TAGGING WALLS LIKE A TEENAGED DEGENERATE." She was done. So done. "To think, I was actually beginning to worry about you! 'What if he's been captured?' I thought. 'What if he's tied up in some warehouse and being chinese water tortured?' Apparently, I should've been more worried about you doing community service. What is wrong with you!"
"Chinese water torture? That's hardly-
"And why the hell did it take you a week to get to this point?"
"It's only been-"
"Why couldn't you pop down to a hardware store, buy a can, and get it over with? Why did you have to drag me to every city in the universe to come back here?"
"Oh, well you see, I had to do some research first," replied the Doctor in a matter-of-fact tone.
"RESEARCH? IT'S SPRAYPAINT!"
"But not just any spraypaint, Donna. This is Mark 5 Industrial Hyperspray," he replied, looking quite proud of himself. Donna looked from him to the can, and back, wondering whether to call him an idiot for assuming she would know what that is, or just helping him along because he was, in fact, an idiot. She decided on the latter.
"And that is...?"
"Oh! Right. I forgot you weren't there with me. That," he stated proudly, motioning towards the Gallifreyan script on the wall, "is permanent. Can't ever be covered up. It'll eat through anything painted over it. It's the ultimate tag!"
"Can it be washed off, though?"
"Nope!" he replied, grinning from ear to ear.
"So you've permanently defaced this building."
He paused, and his face fell slightly. He obviously hadn't thought this far. "Well, I wouldn't go so far as saying defaced. I like to think of it more as a permanent decoration. I mean, look at it, Donna. It's gorgeous. I know you're not very familiar with the language, but that is superb penmanship by Gallifreyan standards. Top notch. 99th percentile. Good as it gets."
"Oh," she replied, focusing on the wall. "I suppose it could be worse, then." It was quite beautiful in its intricacy, now that she really looked at it. It was definitely an improvement from POK's tag, which she could partially see behind it. "So what's it say?" she asked thoughtfully. Met with silence, Donna looked to her right to find the Doctor looking at his work, expression suddenly blank.
"Perhaps...perhaps you're right. Perhaps defaced is the right term."
Much thanks to my wonderful beta, Etimire T!
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