Part 2

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The Doctor had been following the trail of the Diklometrons for hours by the time he found himself perched precariously on the window ledge of a first, or possibly second, floor window of an enormous multi storey London house. He'd been so engrossed that he'd forgotten to warn Donna where he was or what he was doing. Oops! He knew that he'd pay for that lapse; probably with some calculated grovelling and several days of tea with toast making duties...

Even the thought of her disapproval had him quietly planning to take her out somewhere pleasant for a meal at the earliest opportunity; somewhere she could dress up nicely so that he could show her off... I mean, let her show off for a change. Because he would never dream of showing her off, oh no! He especially would not display her like a precious possession that he had carefully kept out of the way of these dangerous Diklometrons. They had a reputation for liking the flesh of beautiful females; saw consuming them as a rite of passage and a great delicacy, so he was determined to keep Donna well out of the way. He was rather fond of her flesh just as it is; all sort of curvaceous, womanly, dappled with freckles and set off perfectly by her beautiful ginger hair. In fact he loved h...her hair; not that he was suggesting that he only valued her hair (which he did) or that it was the only thing that he lo... liked about Donna. The Diklometrons would no doubt find her flesh amazing! Almost too amazing. That's why he had crept off without her; to protect her assets. You know; the ones that kept her alive.

He gave a cough as his thoughts were forced back onto the fact he was clinging onto a windowsill where he could be easily detected. Why was he here again? Oh yes, the Diklometrons. Irritating little so-and-so creatures. If he could just get the sash window he was gripping hold of to open, he could maintain a healthy distance between them and his lo… latest companion. With a swish of his sonic screwdriver around the seal of the glass panes, the window lock popped open, and he eased then pulled up the bottom section to allow himself to climb in.

Okay, he practically fell in as his eagerness to deal with his possible quarry overtook him, but it had been an enormous relief. Daylight was fading fast and he needed to discover the creatures before they attacked anyone else. Once darkness completely fell the Diklometrons would be settling down for the night and he needed to find where exactly in the house they were roosting.

The room beyond the windowsill was in relative darkness, lit partially from the hallway outside and an exterior street lamp. A small movement in a near corner caught his attention so he sprung the sonic from his jacket pocket and into usage, and shone it appropriately about. Almost immediately a small sludge coloured hand appeared in the Doctor's peripheral vision, brandishing a familiar object. 'What the...?' he managed to question before a silver handled coal scuttle struck him hard on the back of his head, and he went out like a fading light bulb. One you haven't remembered to buy a replacement for, unfortunately.

~0~0~

"The gentleman wouldn't respond when I tried to waken him," he heard an ancient voice declare defensively, "No matter what I did."

"Then you should have tried harder," a petulant female voice responded in crisp, even tones.

The Doctor managed to warily sit up from his position on a large Persian rug and eyed them both as he gave his aching head a consoling rub. "Where am I?" It was better, he felt, that he start with an obvious question.

Before him stood two women of differing ages and classes; the older one could easily have been the mother of the other in any other situation but in this one. She apparently was a servant of some sort. There was no doubt in his mind that they were not friends. The younger woman wore expensive clothing and equally expensive perfume, judging by its overwhelming aroma to his tender senses. They both considered him with indulgent exasperation.

It was the fashion mannequin who spoke first; her words almost exploding out of her. "What you have been playing at all weekend? Did you think your latest ploy to avoid me would work? You are such a child at times."

Ah, their timelines were obviously muddled up, because he didn't know her from Adam yet she seemed to know him quite well. This situation needed careful handling. Stopping his assessment of the bump on his head to consider the finely dressed woman before him for a moment, he thought to ask, "Did I miss a party?"

She rolled her eyes in exasperation and played anxiously with the stylish gold chain around her neck. "Yes, your launch party, as well you know. I have no idea why you had to go off with that woman."

Woman? Did she possibly mean Donna? Hopefully she did; and he'd find out what he had previously done and was about to do. It all sounded rather enticing. "Launch," he dimly repeated. "What type of launch did I miss? I do hope there's some cake left."

The two women exchanged an anxious glance.

"Should I call a doctor, ma'am?" the servant woman enquired. "He obviously took a whack to the head."

"No, that won't be necessary," bling woman answered with a resigned sigh. "He has often passed out like this in the past. No doubt we'll find an empty bottle or two on the floor somewhere."

"Madam, I assure you that I am generally immune to the effects of alcohol," the Doctor informed her haughtily. "My demise was due to being hit by a small creature called a Diklometron; and it is possibly still at large."

Bling woman sadly shook her head instead of showing him any sympathy. "Just get him a cup of strong coffee please, Sally. We'll need him up and running by eleven o'clock this evening or we're all doomed."

"All doomed, eh?" the Doctor repeated with a grin on his face as he sauntered after Sally the servant woman who had beckoned him to follow her. "Now this is beginning to sound like my kind of party."

"Excuse me, sir," Sally whispered to him once they were away and out of earshot of the bling woman. "But you might want to get that head of yours seeing to, as it ain't right lying about like that unconscious on the floor. You must have been out of it for a good half hour or so."

He smiled reassuringly back at her. "Thank you, but it takes more than a blow to the head to cause me permanent damage. Why do you think it was at least half an hour ago?" he questioned, since he knew for a fact that he had only been in the house for fifteen minutes. Half an hour previously he had been searching the house next door and found absolutely nothing.

"Because that's when we thought you had left with that woman," she supplied.

This was becoming increasingly intriguing. "What did this woman look like?"

"Have you forgotten already?! Oh yes, the blow to the head.. Well, she was dressed quite normal, not for a dinner party; and she had long ginger hair," Sally stated. "You was all over her like a rash in the hallway. Miss Caroline was fair busting a gut over it; you'll be pleased to know. We thought you'd taken her back to your hotel."

"Did I?" he murmured, and then changed tack. "I obviously forgot something. This hotel… where exactly is it?"

~0~0~

Donna had assisted 'Peter', as she thought he was called, out into the cold, crisp air of the street, and then stood wondering why he was still partially draped all over her. She eyed him cautiously. "While I think to ask, out with it; why are you avoiding the posh bird in the fancy get up?"

"You mean the one with the red dress?" he queried to evade her question; but he could already tell that it wouldn't work. "She's Caroline Dangerfield, a top PR woman and executive for the production company that is paying for all this." He then swirled his finger round in demonstration.

"That tells me who she is, but not why you had to pounce on me in the hallway," Donna noted.

"Ah, that!" Peter acknowledged as he swayed them slightly. "She's been coming on strong to me all day, as if I owe her one, and I don't operate like that. Not unless I'm very drunk. But I have you to thank for getting me out of her pampered clutches."

She could have done without the possessive squeeze he gave her shoulders. Or that look he kept flashing in her direction; a look of adoration. It reminded her, yet again, that he was probably drugged up to the eyeballs or ailing for something; and he still hadn't said what his master plan was or where exactly the TARDIS was. "Come on then, Spaceman; what comes next?"

'Do I need to draw you diagram?' he wondered incredulously. 'Now comes the part where I lure you into my room before we fuck like bunnies. And get my name right!' "Don't fucking ask me," he retorted.

So she slapped him.

"I just did, Martian!" she insisted huffily for a moment. This attitude wouldn't get anything done, she realised so she waited patiently for his solution to this problem.

His eyes slowly bore into her soul; or so it seemed. He really was out of it, and needed the TARDIS fast! As every minute had passed by Donna's concern had grown. Shouldn't he have been recovering by now? The night air should have made him revive his senses but instead he seemed to be slipping deeper into this newly acquired persona. She could almost see new thoughts scurrying through his mind, and it worried her that he seemed so different.

'Fuck, this is a weird situation,' he thought as the seconds ticked on and their dynamic seemed to change with each passing moment. "Peter," he reminded her to say. "I thought we had already agreed you would call me 'Peter'."

"Well I did," she granted, "but I'm starting to wonder if you even know who I am."

His grip on her shoulder slightly slackened as he considered her. It was time to drop a hint. "You know, you are perfectly correct. What name would you like me to call you, Ginger?"

Anger flared across her features. Of all the cheek! "You can bin that one for a start; as soon as you like, Sunshine! I'll stick to 'Donna', thank you very much."

So she was called Donna, eh? Peter smiled broadly despite himself. "Donna, darling, don't be like that. I meant no harm," he proclaimed as he crooned into her ear and kept an arm tightly around her shoulders. "I will need your very special help once we are back in my hotel room."

Darling! What?! What the hell was he going on about now: his hotel room? She had just opened her mouth to ask her question when a small creature suddenly scuttled across the pavement in front of her. It was muddy coloured in the sodium lamplight, looking like a cross between a wilting balloon and a sack of potatoes. Six tiny legs were barely discernible beneath its body, propelling it like some decapitated octopus as its two spindly arms reached towards her. Before she could even react it had latched on to her leg, digging in minute claws that bit through her trouser leg and tore into her flesh. Inevitably she howled in shock and pain as some sort of venom entered her bloodstream.

"What the fuck…! Get away from her!" Peter yelled out in shock when he saw blood start to instantly seep through her clothing and down her leg.