Chapter One: A Friendly Not-So-Reminder

Donna was late for work. That made the third time this month, and it wouldn't go over too well if she did it again. She almost wished she had a time machine; then she could go back and get the morning right.

She stopped in her tracks, wondering where that thought had come from. Time machine....who would have a time machine anyway? And even if they did, they probably couldn't go back on someone's personal time line anyway. Apparently. Shaking her head, Donna looked around the street, glad that no one was staring at her. She absently rubbed her fingers over her forehead and resumed her trek to work.

These stupid headaches, she thought to herself as she picked up her pace. If I could get them to go away I'd get some proper sleep.

Of course, it wasn't just the headaches that bothered her. First there was her granddad, who hadn't been able to look her in the eyes for weeks without tearing up, and her mum....her mum hadn't insulted her or picked a fight in so long Donna couldn't remember their last argument. Maybe I'm ill.

Occasionally on the way to work she could swear she saw a blue phone box -the kind from the 1950's- or a familiar-looking man with poofy hair and a striped suit. She shrugged it off, but it gnawed at the back of her mind and tended to make the headaches worse. Maybe I've gone bonkers.

Other times she would catch people giving her sad, strange looks; random people on the street would glance at her, look as if they were about to say something, then frown and rush away. She thought maybe she'd spilled something, or that there was something on her back, but there was never any explanation for it. Why are people staring at me? I'm nothing special.

"That's it," she said one day after a particularly long day at work, "I'm going for a drink." Probably wouldn't help, but it couldn't hurt either. On the plus side, she'd gotten a call that morning about a job offer. In Cardiff, at a ruddy newspaper office, but higher pay and a permanent position, not to mention the opportunity to move out of her mother's house. Maybe I'll pop by there, have a drink, see the building. In other words, Donna didn't want to go home that night. The last couple months had been disconcerting, and her family was making her feel even more out of place. She needed a night to herself.

She rang her house, figuring when no one answered that her granddad was up on the hill again. Maybe she shouldn't go out; he was always upset when he came back from the allotment and had a harder time meeting her eyes than usual. The machine beeped loudly in her ear and she made up her mind.

"Mum? Granddad? Oi, Granddad, don't you catch a cold up on that hill, you hear me?" She laughed cheerfully. "Just ringing to let you know I'm staying out for the evening. Don't wait up for me, Mum, I'm old enough to be out on my own. Just going out to-" the machine beeped again to let her know it was running out of space. Oh well. "I'm going out, that's all," she said quickly. "Love you," she added as the line disconnected.

She got to Cardiff around 8:30, wondering why she'd bothered to come at all; there weren't very many people around and she'd only been here a couple times, so she didn't know any of the good pubs. After walking around for a while, she saw a girl coming down the street and decided to ask where to get a good drink. "'Cuse me, Miss. I was wondering if you could-"

"Donna!" The young woman rushed to her and practically knocked her over with a hug, her dark hair hitting Donna in the face. Nutter. Maybe I'll turn that job down after all. "Oh, Donna, how have you been?"

Donna fought the urge to smack the girl, aiming (and missing by a mile) for polite instead. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" The woman's face fell and she quickly released Donna, straightening her jumper and no longer wanting to make eye contact.

"I'm sorry, that's right. You probably don't remember me. We've only met once, after all. Gwen Cooper, nice to see you again." Who the devil is Gwen Cooper? "Were you here to see the team?" Donna smirked, imagining what kind of a team this girl could belong to, when Gwen's babbling cut into her thoughts. "-haven't been to Torchwood in a few weeks, been away on vacation with Rhys. Figured we'd earned it after all we've been through. I've missed everyone, so I figured I'd drop by and surprise them. We might as well both go."

Torchwood. A word she knew, or knew she should know. What's a Torchwood? She felt it best not to ask. "Er....actually I was just popping by, I think I'll be going."

Gwen smiled and nodded. "Tell the Doctor hello for me! And thanks again, Donna. Thank you so much." She was thanking her? Whatever for?

"I'm sorry? Doctor? Doctor whom? I'm not from around here, don't know any doctors." Torchwood. The Doctor. Donna Noble, the Doctor, Donna, the Doctor, the DoctorDonna. What? Donna shook her head, confused, and Gwen, who had been deciding whether or not to be offended, now appeared concerned.

"Donna, maybe we should take you to Torchwood. You don't look well." Donna nodded, still no idea what was going on, and Gwen took her down a few blocks to the Torchwood Hub. "Wait here for a minute, would you? I'll just let the others know you're here. They'll be thrilled to see you."

Gwen stepped into the lift, and almost immediately she was down in the Hub where Mickey, Martha, and Jack were running tests, watching monitors, or in Jack's case, casting a suspicious glance in her direction. "You're not working for another week," he said with a wink. "Get out."

"Jack....I know I've been gone, but why doesn't Donna remember me? I'm a bit worried." Jack's grin disappeared instantly and Martha's jaw dropped, obviously not prepared for such news. "What is it? She's upstairs waiting. I thought she might have hit her head or something. She looks bloody awful."

Mickey didn't say a word as he ran upstairs. He saw Donna sitting by the front door looking very confused and a bit upset. "I know you," she said, more of a question than a statement. "You're....you're Ricky, right?" That answered one question. The metacrisis definitely hadn't gone away. So why hadn't she burned up already? Not that I'm complaining.

"Sorry," she said with a shrug, "Memory's terrible." Donna offered him a small smile, looking around the room as if trying to figure out where she was. Can't have any of that, Mickey decided. He rushed up to her and shook her hand, then led her to the lift.

"Mickey, actually, but don't worry about it. Happens all the time." He smiled at her and realized on the way downstairs that he'd never met her properly, nor had Gwen. That must be protecting her brain, he reasoned, which was why he cursed himself when the lift doors opened to show Jack and Martha hurriedly dialing the Doctor's number. "Come on, Doctor, pick up!"

"Jack! Martha!" at which point Donna promptly screamed and fainted.

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To be continued....