"What do we do?" hissed Donna through her teeth to the Doctor as she nodded politely to a young couple walking by. They were strolling down Pennsylvania Avenue, the White House gates fast approaching, and Donna still had very little idea how they were going to get in.
"Walk up. Act natural," the Doctor said, smiling down at her. "Smile. Be confident, that's very important. And don't wander off." He led her up to the wrought iron gates and pushed them open. "After you," he said with a slight bow. She turned up her nose and walked through as primly as she could. However, she couldn't hide the slightest of grins that fought its way onto her face. He followed her through, pulling the gate closed behind them, then took her arm again and led the way up the drive. Donna glanced back at the gate.
"But shouldn't there be...I don't know, guards or something? What's to stop some lunatic from just walking in?"
The Doctor looked at her, amused. "Like us, you mean?" She flushed. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "the Secret Service won't start up for another few months yet, not until...well, anyway. Common courtesy was more common at this time, I suppose. Nothing personal, of course," he added hastily, seeing the look on his companion's face. "I imagine there'll be someone at the door to send us packing."
Donna eyed the quickly nearing door. "But they won't, will they?"
The Doctor snorted. "'Course not. With my mouth and your temper, they wouldn't stand a chance."
"Oi, space boy, watch it," Donna said with a glare.
"Ah, there it is," he said with an affectionate grin. She gave him a little shove. "Come on. Let's go turn some heads."
In no time at all, they had reached the portico. They ascended the staircases, Donna carefully holding up her skirts, and strolled boldly across to the door. "Now what?" Donna whispered.
"Knock," the Doctor answered, and reached out one gloved hand to knock three times on the great wooden door. No answer. He knocked again. Still nothing. "You'd think you'd get better service at a place like this," he muttered. "I wonder why..." Donna, however, pushed past him and yanked on the heavy bellpull. Moments later, they heard footsteps, gradually coming closer. Donna smiled a rather superior smile.
"Figures," she said. "902 years old and still can't manage do get things done." Before the Doctor could reply, the door was opened by a man, presumably a butler, who was dressed almost as finely as the Doctor himself.
"Can I help you?" the man said with a stiff smile.
"Yes," said the Doctor, wiping the indignation off his face and replacing it with his most charming expression. "We're here to see President Lincoln."
The man nodded, clearly familiar with this sort of request. "Are you? Why?"
"I am John Smith, and this is Donna Noble. We are ambassadors from Her Majesty, the Queen of England, here to meet with your president regarding matters of international importance. Our credentials." He pulled a large sheet of blank paper out of an inner pocket and presented it to the politely skeptical man with a flourish. The butler took it and appeared to read it, although what Donna couldn't see, then handed it back, his whole manner changed.
"Of course, Mr. Smith, Miss Noble, welcome to Washington. I am Thomas Pendel, humble doorkeeper for Mr. Lincoln, and I-"
"Miss Noble?" Donna asked suddenly. "Why are you calling me miss, do I look single?"
The Doctor cleared his throat. "Donna, not now, please." She subsided, abashed. "Thank you." He turned to the rather bemused butler. "You can take us inside now."
"Of course, sir, of course," said Mr. Pendel hurriedly, bowing slightly. "Right this way." He led them through a large rectangular vestibule, across a hallway and into a large oblong room. "The Blue Room," he said, ushering them in. "Please wait here. Mr. Lincoln will receive you shortly." He bowed and exited the room, waving off their thanks.
"Ambassadors, are we?" Donna asked, her voice low. "That'd've been nice to know. Why?"
The Doctor shrugged. "Accents," he said with a grin. "Had to think of something. And isn't it more fun when you don't know all that's going on? Too much foreknowledge takes the excitement out of everything." Donna was forced to agree. They settled into a couch to wait.
"I can see why it's called the Blue Room," she commented. Everything was blue: the walls, the heavy drapes, the furniture, carpets, everything. Much of it had gold trim as well, but the overall sensation was almost overwhelming. "I clash terribly." The Doctor laughed.
"Yes, I see what you mean. I believe they also have a Green Room and a Red Room."
"How clever."
"Quite."
They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, before Mr. Pendel came back. "Excuse me, Your Excellencies, I am to show you upstairs. Follow me, please."
"Certainly," said the Doctor, getting to his feet and offering Donna a hand. They followed the doorkeeper out the door and down a hall, then up a grand staircase. Donna couldn't help but marvel at the finery of it all. After being led down another long hall, they were shown at last into a reception room, where they were told to wait until they were called.
The small room was packed with people of all ages and stations. The elderly, children, the obviously rich, the obviously poor. Donna and the Doctor found themselves shoved in a corner, well out of the way. Donna found herself next to an older man, clearly quite frail, who was leaning against the wall. He glanced up at Donna as she wedged her dress into the small space, then looked away, as though he hadn't the energy to maintain eye contact. Donna glanced over at the Doctor, who had taken out his glasses and was polishing them, then turned back to the man.
"Hello," she said awkwardly. "I'm Donna Noble. What are you doing here?"
The man grunted. "Waiting to see President Lincoln," he said, his voice wheezing. "What else?"
"And all these people," Donna continued, waving a hand at the crowded room, "they want to see him as well?"
"'Course." He looked at her sideways. "You foreign or something?"
Donna smiled. "S'pose you could say that," she said ruefully. "Why do you want to see him?"
The man looked down at his gnarled hands. "My son. Sentenced to death for some military offense. I'm hoping Mr. Lincoln can clear his name and bring him home to the missus in Tennessee."
Impulsively, Donna reached out to touch his arm, real sympathy in her eyes. "I'm certain he can help you," she said comfortingly. "How long have you been waiting?"
"Four days."
Donna reeled back. "Four days?" He nodded, his eyes full of a father's pain and worry. She turned to the Doctor. "How long are we going to have to wait?" she asked in a whisper. He checked his watch.
"Dunno. Hopefully not long. Why? Out of patience already?" Donna chose to ignore that. She jerked her head towards the old man.
"He's been here four days."
"What?" She nodded. "Well, we'll have to do something about that," he said, slipping his glasses on. Just then, the door opened and a man walked in. Instantly, everyone turned to look at him, faces full of hopeful expectation.
"Thank you all for your patience," he said, his voice brisk but not unkind. "If I could-"
"Excuse me," the Doctor said, slipping over to the man's side. "I'm Ambassador Smith, one of the Royal Ambassadors from England, here on a matter of some urgency. We need an audience with the president right away." He once again produced the psychic paper for the man, who read it, then smiled politely.
"Pleased to meet you, Your Excellency. I'm sure Mr. Lincoln would be willing to see you shortly." The Doctor nodded, then held out a hand to Donna.
"Ambassador Noble," he said by way of introduction. "My companion."
"General Fisk, officer in the army of the Union. Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said, taking Donna's hand and kissing it. Then, as she blushed, he said, "If you could please follow me." He led the way out the door and down a short hall, Donna and the Doctor following behind.
"I rather like this one," she whispered to the Doctor. He gave her an amused smile.
"You would," he said under his breath. She glared.
"But what's all this 'Your Excellency' business?"
"Proper term of address for a foreign ambassador," he answered. "Apparently we make a convincing case."
"Right in here, Your Excellencies," General Fisk said, stopping in front of a wooden door. The Doctor dropped Donna a subtle wink. "I'll pop in and tell him you're here." He ducked through the door, leaving them alone in the hallway.
They waited in silence for a bit before Donna whispered, "Doctor, I don't think we should be doing this. Wasting his time. Those people need to see him. We're just...just sightseers. That's all. It seems a bit selfish."
"Nonsense," he said brusquely. "I promised you someone famous, didn't I? It's a bit late to back out now. He's expecting us." Donna did not look convinced. He sighed. "Besides, this way we might be able to help out that fellow you were talking to. Not selfish. Helpful. See?"
Before Donna could respond, General Fisk had reappeared. "Mr. Lincoln awaits you in his office," he said with a welcoming smile, holding the door open to let them pass. The Doctor shook his hand and thanked him kindly, then the two entered the office of the President.
It was a small room, smaller than Donna had expected for a place that housed such important going-ons. There was a large walnut table in the middle of the room. A large armchair stood between two windows, as well as two large sofas and several wooden chairs. A small writing desk stood against one wall, a large fireplace built into another. All were covered with books, maps, and piles of loose papers. The whole room was lit by gaslight, as well as the natural light from the windows. The President himself sat at a large mahogany desk, busily writing a letter. He looked up when they came in, followed by General Fisk, who waited just inside the door.
"Ah, welcome!" he said, getting to his feet and holding out his hand for the Doctor to shake. "Ambassador Smith, I assume? And Mrs. Smith?"
"Oh no," Donna said hurriedly. "We're not married."
"Not even a little bit," the Doctor hastened to add. "Just, er, colleages."
"Colleagues, right," agreed Donna.
"My apologies," the President said, shaking Donna's hand. "Then you are Ambassador..."
"Noble. Donna Noble."
"Ambassador Noble. Wonderful to meet you," he said with a genuine smile. "Welcome to America. How can I help you?" He was looking straight at Donna as he asked this.
"Er..." Donna paused. "Well...first, there's a man outside, an old man who needs to see you very badly. A matter of life and death. He's been waiting a very long time."
The President nodded. "Thank you for telling me. General Fisk? Find this man, please, and take down his case. I'll review it as soon as I can." The General saluted and left the room. "Now then. I assume you had more to tell me than that?"
"Yes, of course," Donna said, panicking slightly. She really had no idea what pretense they were there under. "We...well, we-"
"We are here to meet you, first of all," inserted the Doctor smoothly, while Donna nodded and tried to look as though she'd known this all along, "and to offer the continued support and condolences of the United Kingdoms towards your struggles."
"Nice one," Donna whispered.
"Thanks," he answered, giving no indication he'd heard her. "We bring a letter from Her Majesty." Once again, he pulled out the psychic paper and handed it over to the President, who waved it away.
"No, no, I don't need that. Give that to Mr. Brooks. Noah!" he called. Moments later, a young man with rather dashing good looks entered the room. "Noah, may I introduce Ambassadors John Smith and Donna Noble? Ambassadors, Noah Brooks, my personal secretary." Brooks smiled and held out a hand for the Doctor to shake.
"Pleased to meet you," he said, his voice curiously flat. "What can I do for you, Mr. President?" he asked. Before he could respond, Donna interrupted.
"Excuse me, are you ill?" Brooks turned to her, his face an expression of polite bafflement.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Are you ill?" she asked again. "You're sort of yellow. Like your skin is shining. Look at him, Doctor!" she said, grabbing her companion's arm. Brooks's expression turned to one of disdain.
"That is hardly the sort of question a lady asks a gentleman, Your Excellency," he said, his strange, flat voice haughty. "And here I thought England was the height of culture and society." He shrugged. "I suppose we all make mistakes."
Donna flushed. "Oh, that is it!" she said, starting towards him angrily. The Doctor caught her arm and held her back.
"Easy," he said, looking intently at the man before him. "Mr. President," he said slowly, "could we speak to you alone for a moment?"
"Of course," said Lincoln immediately. "Noah, if you wouldn't mind?"
"Certainly, Mr. President," Brooks said with a bow. "I'll just lock the door behind me. I'd hate for you to be disturbed."
"Yes, do, thank you," Lincoln said absentmindedly.
"One moment," the Doctor said, pulling out his sonic screwdriver. "A prototype camera," he said in explanation, pointing it at Brooks. "I said I'd take a picture for my daughter." He scanned the man for a moment, then stowed it back in his jacket pocket. "Thank you for your patience," he said brightly. "That's all I needed." Unsettled, Brooks left, shooting Donna one last glare over his shoulder, which she returned in earnest. Once they heard the lock click, the President sank down into his desk chair.
"I'm terribly sorry about that," he said, rubbing his eyes. "He isn't normally so rude."
"Well, neither is she," the Doctor said, jerking his head in Donna's direction.
"Oh," she exclaimed, indignant, and stomped on his foot. The Doctor doubled over, clutching his wounded limb.
"Or maybe she is," he gasped. He sat down in a wooden chair in front of the desk, stretching out his leg. "Was that really necessary?" he asked, glancing over at Donna. She sniffed and looked away. "Anyway, back to the point, then," he said, with a pointed look at Donna. "Mr. President. How long have you known Mr. Brooks, how long has he worked for you?"
"Well," Lincoln said, considering, "he's worked here since the beginning of this year, I've known him longer than that, for certain. Why do you ask?"
"And does he seem at all odd to you?" the Doctor persisted. "Acting differently, doing strange things?"
"No, not at all," the President replied. "If anything, the quality of his work has gone up of late."
The Doctor nodded. "Mr. President, I don't know how to say this, exactly, so I'll be blunt. Mr. Brooks is not human."
"Not human?" Lincoln asked, eyes wide with disbelief. "Of course he's human! What else would he be?"
"He's an Auton," the Doctor said quickly, leaning over the desk to look Lincoln right in the eyes. "A plastic robot controlled by a larger central brain, the Nestene Consciousness. A, a sort of mind meld. Hive mind. I'm afraid he may have been gathering information and manipulating your war for months."
Mr. Lincoln was visibly shocked. "Mr. Brooks? I can't believe it, Doctor. He's been so very helpful."
The Doctor leaned in even closer, staring at the powerful man before him. "You called me 'Doctor'," he said quietly. "Why did you call me that?"
"That's your name, is it not?" Lincoln stood up, towering over the much shorter Time Lord before him. He smiled, a cold, calculating smile. "Oh, Doctor. It's been a very long time. We have missed you terribly."
The Doctor slowly backed away, pulling out the sonic and holding it up. "Doctor, what's going on?" Donna hissed. "How does he know you?"
"Donna," the Doctor said quietly, "I'm afraid you won't be meeting Mr. Lincoln today."
"What are you talking about?" she asked angrily, impatient and scared. She watched the President slowly raise his right hand to waist level, fingers forming a flat vertical blade pointed right at them. The Doctor looked down at her.
"Donna," he said quickly, "do you trust me?" She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Then do whatever I say, alright?" She nodded again, then gasped as she saw Mr. Lincoln's fingers seem to break off and swing down, revealing a large metal tube - a gun barrel.
"Doctor," she said, voice trembling, "Doctor, look!" He turned quickly, then grabbed her hand. "Now what?" she cried. "What's the plan? Dear God, please tell me you have a plan." He grinned at her, almost maniacally.
"Basically: run."
A.N: Holy fricking crap this is soooo long! Agh! Almost 3k words. Unbelievable. Sorry about that. I debated splitting it in two, but this is how it's going. Yay! Thank you all so so so much for the input I've been given here, you've been quite helpful. Again, any anything you want to say, let me know, because I am determined to make this story the very best that it can be! Much love to you all!
-Forever the Optimist