I love the Beatles. I know it's irrelevant, it's just that I'm listening to them as I write this, and it feels like they should get some kind of mention.

This chapter's just a tiny bit crack(!)y, so beware. You have been warned.

Technically, the word disclaim means to refuse to acknowledge something, so by disclaiming I'm just not acknowledging the fact that I own this programme. Which is bloody backwards, and a complete waste of time.

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Chapter Three: Mrs Noble - Slitheen in Downing Street

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It's only when they finally stop running, both utterly breathless, that Donna realises where she headed for. It's quite ironic, really. And sort of sweet, from an outsider's point of view. But not so much if you've actually met her mum.

She opens the gate and slowly ambles up the garden path, feeling for anything like a stroppy teenager coming home after a night out. Past curfew. She turns to Rose, who's standing at the end of the path, clutching the twisted metal gate, staring at the door.

"Right, this is my mum's house."

Rose looks at her blankly. "Okay."

"No, it's not. I've been away... God knows how long, months, years, by the looks of things, and I didn't phone. I just rang and told her I was leaving, and that was it-"

She's cut off once again as the door behind her is thrown ruggedly open and a loud, irritated voice rings out. She cringes.

"Where the Hell have you been, Donna Noble?" She turns, slowly, full of dread, met unappealingly by the seething face of her mother in hair rollers. "You leave this morning to go and see that Lance bloke, you don't tell me or your Dad or even your Grandad what time to expect you back, even with all what's been happening on the news..."

Wait, what? "Lance?"

Her mother notes the shock on her face. "Oh, Donna, don't tell me he left you? Not another one?"

"I-"

"Don't even answer that, I don't want to know. Just get inside." Donna doesn't move, staring at the flustered woman, bewildered. She's too confused to even think about the implications of that last statement (which is a good thing, really).

"Mum, what's going on?"

There's a pause, where they listen to the shouting in the distance. Mrs Noble gives an involuntary shiver.

"That's the question, isn't it?" Her anger falters for a second, leaving her looking haunted in the darkened street, lit from behind by the dim lamps that line her hallway.

Donna just stands there, staring at her mum. It appears that the whole World's gone completely mad. And that she's gone... Back in time. And can't easily go forwards again. Oh God.

"Mum, what's the..."

"Who's that?" Mrs Noble gestures behind her daughter, and, interrupted, Donna turns to look at Rose, who's staring back down the road towards the shouting and the fire. A car flies down the street, horn beeping maniacally, headlights off, and she gapes at it.

"Erm, that's..." Donna looks back at her mum. "That's my friend Rose."

She looks up at her name, tearing her eyes from two doors down's lawnmower, which appears to be running on its own. "Sorry?"

Donna turns to her, not quite sure what to say. She shrugs, apologetically. "Er, Rose, this is my mum. Mum, this is... Rose."

There's a pause, where no one moves.

"You never mentioned her before."

"Right, yeah, I met her earlier. Through a friend. Don't look at me like that, Mum!"

"How am I supposed to look at you? Why's she here? Who is she? You can't just go galavanting off God knows where then bring back perfect strangers. Not in this day and age. It's not safe."

"Why's it not safe?" Rose interrupts, suddenly, looking intensely at Mrs Noble. "What's going on?"

She doesn't answer the question, and Donna feels the first prickles of apprehension. "Look, get inside, the pair of you."

Neither Donna nor Rose moves an inch, so Mrs Noble grabs her daughter's arm.

"Come inside, for God's sake! Before it's too late!"

Donna shakes free, bewildered. "Mum! What's going on? Too late for what?"

"Oh, Lord, what on Earth have you been doing today? Having electroshock therapy? Come inside and I'll put the kettle on. Just get in!"

Rose comes through the gate, and it's this, more than anything, that sparks Donna into action. The two women, much to Mrs Noble's relief, come inside, and she shuts the door behind them, then bristles into the kitchen, squeezing past them in the narrow hallway, muttering angrily under her breath. Rose stares after her, slightly unnerved.

Donna whispers to her urgently. "Sorry about her, she's always been a bit... dramatic."

"Right." There's a pause, but when Donna starts towards the kitchen she's pulled back by a firm grip.

"Sorry... It's Donna, right?" She nods. "I think there's something weird happening. Like... Doctor weird."

"Like time travel, paradox, planet of the Ood weird?"

"You met the Ood?"

"Saved them from enforced lobotomy."

"Right, okay." There's an even longer pause, where both struggle to know what to say, what to do. What the Doctor would do. "Do you know what day it is?"

Donna looks around, then reaches for the newspaper on the recycling pile. Her eyes widen. "It's erm... February 12th, 2006. And it's a Friday."

Rose swallows, digesting this. The Grandfather clock directly behind her chimes, and she jumps.

"And it just went eleven o'clock."

"Right, thank you." She smirks. "Thorough."

Donna's mum calls from the kitchen. "You two, d'you want milk and sugar? We've got semi-skimmed and full fat."

"Either, Mum, either will do."

"Rose?"

"Erm, either, Mrs... Erm... Either."

Donna hisses. "Mrs Noble. Sylvia."

"Either will do, Mrs Noble. Thanks!"

The two women stand in the hallway, listening to Donna's mum tutting and fussing in the kitchen, thinking.

"Could I see the paper?"

"What?" Donna looks up at Rose, who's eyeing her earnestly. "Right, yeah, here you go."

She hands the slightly ragged copy of the Evening Standard over, and they're silent as Rose thumbs through the dog eared pages in the half light. Donna watches the second hand tick round above Rose's head, counting down... Er, she's not sure what, exactly. She realises idly it's been about forty-five minutes since she left the Tardis.

Mrs Noble's voice calls from the kitchen, breaking her daughter from her daze.

"Do you want this tea or not?"

"Sorry, Mum. We're coming!"

Neither of them moves. Rose looks at her, narrowing her eyes.

"Donna, when do you come from?"

"What?"

"What time is your time? When did you start travelling with him? How long has it been?"

Donna furrows her eyebrows, thinking. "I left on... April fifth, I think."

"What year?"

"Erm... It was... two thousand and eight. Saturday, April fifth, two thousand and eight."

There's a short wait whilst Rose processes this, doing the maths, then she looks at Donna carefully. "And how long have you been travelling with the Doctor?"

It's easy to see that the question carries a lot of weight with this girl, Donna thinks, studying her. She's got a look on her face like she's talking to an employee, or someone she's interviewing- polite, restrained, only mildly interested. But she's pretty easy to see through, especially when you know the history. Or, if you're Donna, some of the history. Actually, thinking about it, it might be the future?

Mrs Noble's voice barks out from the kitchen waspishly. "Donna! Tea!"

Donna rolls her eyes, exasperated. "We're just coming, Mum!"

Rose gives her a small, amused smile, then nods encouragingly. "How long?"

It is an important question, when she thinks about it, and not just because Rose wants to work out if they're all going to die because of some all powerful paradox. Truth be told, Donna's not actually completely sure how long she's been with the Doctor. Tardis days are different. You wear them differently, you don't track them like you track a working week. Not that she's had a working week, not in a long while. Not since Lance and the spider. It's felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time.

She's still being stared at, and her mum is still tutting.

"Probably about six weeks?"

Rose nods, and if Donna thought she knew her, she'd say there's triumph. But she doesn't, so she won't. There's nothing she can really tell her that will help, except perhaps how the Doctor feels. She softens.

"You know he still completely adores-"

Rose breaks her off, interrupting. "I think we should get that tea before your mum explodes, alright, Donna?"

She's glaring at her now, which is really very unfair. It's not like she was...

"Donna! Tea!"

"Alright!"

Donna raises her eyebrows and they traipse into the kitchen where Mrs Noble is waiting, two mugs of steaming hot tea on the table.

"They'll be cold now."

"Yes, Mum."

She sits down, not touching the tea, staring into space. Rose follows her, a little awkwardly, and picks up her mug.

"Mrs Noble?"

"Yes?"

"The, er... The people in the streets." She shivers, and puts the mug back down, as if it's safer there. "What's going on?"

Donna braces herself. "Now you've done it."

"'What's going on?'" Mrs Noble's voice is like thunder. "I was joking about that shock therapy, but I shouldn't have been, should I?"

Rose looks at Donna, who's making a face like she's sucking a lemon, back turned to her mother.

"You come in, eleven at night, gone all day, wearing different clothes to the ones you went out in, and bring in some girl who's pretending not to know what's going on! Into my house!" Donna's eyes scrunch shut. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were on drugs, Donna Noble!"

"Mum!"

"Oh, don't give me any of that. She's carrying a gun about. You'd only take a gun out with you if you knew what was going on." She looks as if she's shocked at herself. "It's conscientious if you know where to get one."

Donna swallows, having wondered herself, but not actually asked. There hasn't really been the time.

"Alright, Mum. But I still don't know."

"You were talking about it this morning! With me! And your Granddad! At breakfast! You were saying that-" There's an abrupt knock on the door, and Mrs Noble jumps, almost fearfully. "Who can that be at this time of night?" She narrows her eyes at her daughter. "You aren't in trouble with the police, are you?"

"What? I..." She looks at the other woman desperately, searching for a life raft. "Rose?"

Rose swallows. "Er, no. I don't think so."

"Then who's at the door? No one should be stupid enough to go out at night..."

The door bell rings again, this time accompanied by a feisty knock. No-one moves until Donna heaves herself out of her chair and through the kitchen door, grumbling.

"Don't trouble yourself, I'll get it..." She storms along the darkened hallway to the front door, calling back testily. "I don't know what any of the fuss is, anyway..."

And when she swings the door open, wondering what the Hell could happen next, she is met, rather surprisingly, by herself. Literally, herself. Donna Louise Noble is standing on the doorstep, rooting through her handbag. She looks up.

"Sorry Mum, forgot my keys and..." The doppelgänger freezes, taken aback. Taken very aback. "Oh my God."

The Donna in the house swears terribly as the one on the front porch screams for Sylvia. "Mum!"

"Donna?" she calls back, questioningly, and 2008's Donna panics.

"No, it's nothing, it's no-one..."

She's interrupted by the other version of herself, who's shrieking. "Mum! Granddad!"

Donna mark one flies out into the garden, pulling the door closed behind her to block off the noise. "Shut up, will you?" she hisses, angrily, and the other Donna (the younger Donna, she thinks, bitterly) gawks.

"Oh my God! Don't you tell me to shut up! You shut up!" They both pause, twin brains working out the confusing meaning of that sentence. Who exactly you is, when they're shouting at each other. Donna mark two scowls. "Shut up!"

The door opens again, and Rose emerges to look at the (slightly) younger redhead questioningly. "Donna, are you..." She glances to her left and sees the second woman, then jumps, startled, very narrowly stopping herself from eliciting a screamy sort of gasp. "Oh my God."

Donna the younger notices Rose's gun and begins to back away slowly, down the garden path, only stopping when she unseeingly hits the gate, seemingly immobile. "Who's she? Who are you both? This is..." She points at them, accusingly, brain clearly working at double speed, adding two and two and getting 912. "You're aliens! You're both aliens!" Neither of the two women staring at her answers, not sure how. She's practically right, after all. It appears that two and two do equal something slightly in excess of four today. "What the Hell is going on?!"

Mrs Noble's voice calls out from the inside of the house. "What are you-"

Donna pulls the door shut once more, calling out desperately in the hope of keeping her mum from discovering the situation. "It's nothing, Mum! We're fine!" She glares at her look-alike, then turns to the blonde woman, slightly hysterical. "Rose, what do I do? What's going on?"

She's met with equal fear. "I don't know! I think..." Rose trails off, almost thoughtfully, dampening her concern. She takes a deep breath. "Donna, I think we've gone back in time."

"What!?"

2008's Donna nods and glares at her bemused duplicate. "Yeah, I guessed that much. Paper saying two thousand and six, and all that."

Rose purses her lips, thinking hard. "But it wasn't like this, was it? Chiswick wasn't Hell." She smirks. "I think I'd have remembered something like that."

"Or you're a clone, aren't you? Oh my God! Someone cloned me!"

Donna scowls. "Shut up, I don't smell. Can you be quiet for thirty seconds, please?"

Rose sits down heavily on the doorstep and stares at her feet, thinking. "We've gone back in time, and something's changed. Something different happened, like..." She looks up, quizzically. "What happened in February 2006?"

Donna doesn't speak, not really remembering much. She doesn't think that anything she could offer would be of much use. Rose is talking practically to herself, thinking out loud.

"I started travelling with the Doctor in 2005, and then I missed a year, and... Oh my God," Her eyes widen as a thought strikes her, and she looks up again, wildly. "The Slitheen!"

"What?"

Rose tries urgently to salvage the thoughts running through her head, to piece everything together. It's like she's putting together a jigsaw without the picture on the box to help her. "The Slitheen! In Downing Street! The Prime Minister!"

Donna twigs. "Oh my God, yeah! The Prime Minister died!"

The third woman cuts into the conversation angrily. "What? No he didn't!"

"Oh, what do you know?"

Rose shakes her head, staring at her. "No, no... Maybe that's what's changed." She looks up at the sky, thinking. "Donna?"

"Yeah?"

"No, other Donna." She speaks to the irate redhead gently, like she's talking to a child. "Did a spaceship crash into the Thames any time recently?"

She looks angry to even be asked such a stupid question. "Yeah, it did. And I bet it was yours. Clone." She glares at Donna, who hisses at her once again to keep quiet, but Rose shushes her.

"No, no, this is good. This means that we know where to start."

"We do?"

She nods emphatically. "Yup. We've got to go to Downing Street."

"Oh my God." The Other Donna appears to have given up on the raging, and just sighs defeatedly. "For aliens you aren't half thick, you know that? The building's collapsed." She raises her eyebrows incredulously as they look on, blank. "Terrorists. Or aliens!" Her eyes widen in righteous indignation, and her eyebrows disappear behind the fringe. "Oh my God, you did it!"

Donna fights the impulse to hit her. She's beginning to understand why her Mum's so angry whenever she's around.

"Wait, that's right! The building... We dropped the bomb and survived by standing under a doorframe. Oh yes!" Rose picks up her gun and beams. "The Doctor will be there! He can help us!"

Donna grins, not because she understands, but because she knows she's supposed to be smiling right now, and she'll be damned if she won't be a good audience. "Alright then! Let's get going!" She turns to her twin as Rose throws open the garden gate. "Tell Mum not to wait up, won't you?"

She dashes after Rose, smiling as she hears the call after her: "She's not your mum!"

--

Want to hear something funny? When you look up redhead in the thesaurus on my computer, it says "person", like it needs to remind you that ginger people are human. Which is, of course, utterly preposterous. I'll let you know that I have friends with red hair, and I don't hold it against them...

Any-the-noo, do me a favour and tell me what you thought when you thunk it. Also known as be a good kid and review, alright? Thanks (shakes hand and departs).