A/N: First of, I would like to apologize to all of my wonderful reviewers for not updating earlier. Right now, I'm not typing this in WordPad, as I ordinarily do, but in Microsoft word, which I have yet to get to grips with once more. (Bare in mind I uninstalled it… ahem… two years ago, and no longer have the amazing version I used on the school computers, but rather the version from 2004. Aheh. Anyway, went off track just a little there. I hope you guys enjoy this, and so without further ado… Ideas are copyright me.
"Donna?"
The voice of Sylvia Noble drifted through the house in a patronising tone, deciding to linger for several long moments before vanishing, as the bedroom door was pushed open for the second time that day. 'Donna! Really, have you actually found a job? Maybe I should look for you, seeing as you're incapable.' Sylvia placed a mug of tea on the desk, before straightening up to look her daughter over, her expression dithering between concern and annoyance.
'Mum, really,' said Donna, not looking up from the keyboard, 'I'm fine. Look…' her tone softened, and she paused in her typing. 'I'm alright, honestly. I've not gone onto some Bingo site, or ordered things from eBay, have I?'
'Well…' Sylvia looked unsure, but Donna cut across her hesitation quickly.
'I'm fine, honestly. I've found a really good job for this new magazine company, actually, so I need to get my CV out and my GCSE results, although to be fair,' she faltered, 'They're not asking for that much…'
Sylvia raised her eyebrows a fraction. "Oh really, Donna? I've heard about these scams on the internet, lure some innocent woman into a promising job with a good pay, only for it not to exist, and then--'
'Give the girl a break, Sylv!' Wilfred Mott, Donna's Granddad, entered the room, holding his precious telescope in his arms. He shook his head at Sylvia. 'Let her find the job she wants to do – you're not going to do it for her, eh? Anyway, Donna love, I was wondering if you wanted to do some star-gazing with me tonight. Like you used—' Sylvia threw Wilfred a dark look and he ended his sentence abruptly.
Donna hadn't noticed the tension rise in the room, and smiled at her screen, still not turning around. 'Sure, gramps.'
'Dad, a word - please,' Sylvia led her dad out of the room before he had a chance to protest, and once the door was closed, her body relaxed - but only slightly. 'We're meant to be keeping this a secret from her! You can't go saying things like that! She can't star-gaze with you – don't you remember what The Doctor said?'
Wilfred looked completely taken aback. 'I didn't mean like that, Sylv…'
Sylvia shook her head in despair. 'It's alright dad – just be more careful next time!'
- -
Joe Jefferson was sitting anxiously in the waiting room of Flow Dab, the new magazine company. The room was bright and glossy, just like the new magazine. The walls were a bright yellow, and the carpet was a light green. The furniture in the room was smart too; modernised plastic silver chairs opposite one another. There was a drinking machine next to the door were the interviews were being held. Joe wished the man who had entered twenty minutes ago would hurry out – or even better, not get the job. After all, Joe really needed this. Sighing, he glanced around the room for something to do, neglecting the free fruit on a coffee table in front of him, surrounded by the latest fashion magazines. The only other person in the room was a dark skinned girl with dark hair, who appeared to be reading a magazine as she waited patiently. She was dressed in a smart blouse and pencil skirt, which showed off her attractive figure. She glanced at Joe when she realised she was being watched, and flashed him a smile. "Hi," she said, closing her magazine and placing it on the empty chair next to her, 'What's your name?'
'J-Joe,' stuttered Joe, 'Joe Jefferson.' He swallowed, clenching his fists. This girl looked friendly, but slightly suspicious. And overly confident.
'Martha Jones,' she offered, standing up and lugging her briefcase with her, before taking a seat next to Joe. She extended her hand, and Joe shook it briefly, before glancing back at the interview room. Martha followed his gaze. 'Bit weird, isn't it, that two hours ago this room was full of people, and yet none have come out of that door…'
Joe shrugged. 'Maybe there's another door leading outside,' he argued in defence, the muscles on his jaw tightening.
She smiled benignly at him. 'Joe,' she said softly, 'We're on the top floor and there's no elevator. I somehow doubt there's a door leading outside from—'
'Yeah, alright!' He flushed red at her apparent glee in the current situation they were both in. But she was right – nobody had come out. Which meant…?
'It's not a hoax, is it?' he asked dryly, after a few moments of silence, 'Or… anything… odd…?'
The girl glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. 'Guess we'll have to wait and see, eh?'
'Will Martha Jones please enter the Interview room? Thank you.' The cool voice of a woman crackled into life through the futuristic speakers, and Martha beamed at Joe. 'See you,' she said casually, before picking up her briefcase and heading towards the metal door. Even though she was attempting to be brave and careless, Joe could tell that she was just as worried as he was…
'Please place your hand on the door for authorisation purposes,' ordered the woman's voice, which seemed to be more high pitched than it had done a few seconds ago.
'I can do that,' said Martha easily, placing her hand on the door. Joe thought he saw her slip something on the door – a little red button…? She caught him staring once more and gave the mere image of a wink.
'Please enter, and thank you for choosing to apply to Flow Dab, the latest and hottest magazine in London!'
Martha glanced at the anxious looking man she had only met a few short minutes ago. 'Bye Joe.' He could barely get his response out, before the door opened, and the girl stepped through confidently, and the only sound that remained was the clicking of her smart black high heels.
--
The Doctor had bonded rather well with these humans – or at least
with two of them. Mrs Reficul and Caleb were rather nice, but Jake
certainly wasn't. He was listening to his MP3 player, keeping well
out of any conversation that may threaten to include him. Presently,
Caleb was telling the Doctor about his recent dreams. 'And what
kind of weird dreams may they be?' asked the Doctor gently.
Caleb
shrugged, rubbing his jacket and avoiding eye contact. 'I keep
dreaming about these three girls, and I've never even met them
before…'
The Doctor smiled. 'Don't we all? So, what do
these girls look like, Caleb?'
'Well, one's small and blonde, the other is dark skinned with dark hair… Doctor, are you okay?' Caleb glanced at the other man with respect. The Doctor's expression had fell for a moment, but then he shook his head slightly as if to dislodge any assumption. 'And the third…?'
'She's tall, with red hair, I think. She keeps asking for help. Like she's trapped or something, in my dreams…'
The Doctor was thinking hard now. 'Do you often dream about them?'
Caleb shook his head. 'A few times a week, not every day.'
Mrs Reficul smiled sympathetically. 'Don't worry, son, bad dreams happen to the best of us…'
'But what if it's not a bad dream?' Caleb glanced at Mrs Reficul, as if pleading for some sort of answer. 'What if…'
'We're here dear,' interrupted Mrs Reficul, giving the lad a sympathetic look, 'Come on. Get your friend and let's get some good seats. I'll get the drinks in…'
The Doctor rose from his seat, helping the elderly lady as he did,
taking her hand and easing her to her feet. 'Mrs Reficul, you're
quite cold…' he observed, letting go and giving her a puzzled
glance.
She smiled vaguely at him. 'It's nothing to worry
about, dear. Come on, get off the bus and let the nice driver away.'
Caleb nudged Jake. 'Hey, come on, Jake. Are you okay? You've
been quiet the whole journey…'
Jake stood up, but waited for
the old lady and the Doctor to get off the bus before replying. 'I
don't trust that woman,' he said in a dry voice, as if he was
dehydrated, 'Or that Doctor man, come to think of it…'
'They're perfectly fine, Jake! The only one who seems to have a problem right now is you.' Caleb shot his friend a look before heading off to catch up with the other two. Jake pulled a face when his friend turned away, and with his hands deep in pockets, he slouched off after them, making sure to turn his MP3 player down. He wanted to listen in, after all.
