To Err is Human (Chapter 11)
Author: Lilac Summers
Rating: PG, language
Pairing: Doctor/Donna/John Smith
Category: humor, angst/romance
A/N: Awww, now I have to write actual story line and not just gratuitous UST. Booo. I warn you now, my action writing is ... well, let's just say it will get better once we're back to the groping and kissage (which is, unfortunately, not in the chapter.) If you've stuck with me so far, thank you and thanks for letting me know what you think!
Part 11
Donna had walked into the small flat just in time to get tea started when she heard the front door open and close again. "Donna?"
"In the kitchen!" she called out.
She turned around with fresh cups of tea to witness the Doctor stumble through the door, two large boxes in his arms, his hair an untamed mess over his trademark grin.
"Good timing! Just in time for tea." She set the brimming cups carefully on the small table. "What are those?"
The Doctor's grin widened, impossibly, and he thrust the boxes at her. "For you."
Presents! Well, who didn't love presents? "Really?" she squealed, all but ripping the boxes out of his arms. "What is it?"
"Open them," he prompted indulgently, enjoying her glee.
Donna didn't need to be told twice. She untied the ribbon holding the first large box closed, pulled it loose and flung it over a shoulder. The lid received the same treatment, and then her hands were buried in tissue paper until she encountered silk. Dancing in place, she lifted the dress - because that's what this was, a gorgeous concoction of lace and silk - out of the box.
"Oh my god! Oh my god!" She reached over, grabbed him by a lapel and half strangled him as she hauled him over the table to plant a smacking kiss on his cheek.
With a laugh he straightened, smoothing down wrinkled shirt and jacket. "You like it?"
"I love it!" She held the dress against herself, gave one giddy twirl. "For tonight?"
"Yes, I was unsure you would have something suitable. And I have been wanting to get you something pretty. I know this town can be a bit drab."
The dress fell in filmy ice blue layers, lace thick at the square cut neckline. Now was when she was supposed to act the part of the responsible wife and say something like "oh no, but it's too expensive, blah blah" but really, c'mon!
"You shouldn't have," Donna began, before breaking into an impish grin, "but nah, who'm I kidding. You really should."
The Doctor's smile was incandescent as he stepped around the table to lift her off her feet, dress and all, and give her a quick twirl.
"Wrinkles!" cried Donna, clutching the dress to her more carefully than she would a newborn. "Don't wrinkle it!"
With another burst of amused laughter he set her on her feet, returning a similar smacking kiss to her cheek as she wiggled free.
"So what's in that one?" asked Donna, moving towards the remaining unopened box, petting the dress over her arm as if it had become her favorite pet.
To her bemusement, he blushed, and one hand sneaked up to rub his neck in that nervous gesture that was so subconsciously the Doctor. "Oh, uh...well, the lady at the shop suggested I go to the adjacent shop and also purchase the necessary...underthings."
Donna bit back a snort of amusement. The mental picture of the Doctor rooting through women's underwear was classic. "Oh really? And how did you know what the 'necessary underthings' were?" she needled.
"Oh no! I would never...I could never...I have never..." Flustered, John gripped the edge of a chair and stared down at tense fingers, blushing scarlet. "The shop girl knew everything you would need and packaged it."
"Wouldn't, couldn't, shouldn't," she singsonged playfully, teasing as she eased the cover off the second box and filtered through layers of fine linen, silk and ribbon. And they fleeced you by selling you the most expensive stuff, too, innocent lamb. But they were leaving in a month; so what if he blew his paycheck on a dress and fancy underwear for her. Not like they needed to worry about their savings, anyway.
She carefully replaced the top and beamed at him as she gathered the dress and boxes. Moving towards the door, she paused at his side to stretch up and to fondly peck his cheek again. "Thank you. Everything's gorgeous."
He looked down at her, brimming with pride. "I would do anything to make you happy. I would give you anything you wanted."
Her heart suttered in her chest, one long, slow beat as emotion welled up her throat.
Oh Doctor. "You ..." she had to swallow thickly, "You already have." The galaxy, the universe...you.
Then she scurried out of the room before she started crying like a flippin' pansy.
.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.
Fresh from her bath and suitably coiffed, Donna surveyed the array of underthings spread before her bed. Why did women have to wear so much stuff!
She rooted through the pile of soft fabric until she fished out the improbable knee-length drawers. No thank you! She hadn't been wearing them for two months and she wasn't going to start now. They were exiled to a corner of the bed.
That still left her with stockings - which she had seen no reason to wear until now - garters, a chemise, a long slip, a corset cut lower than normal, and several other sets of petticoats. God, what a bother! Donna had never prescribed much to the idea that feminine fashion was some kind of tool used by men to keep women in control - but looking at the huge pile of useless, stifling, undergarments, she was willing to reconsider.
Well, no use in dithering. It was going to take her an age to get it all on so she may as well start now. She dropped her dressing gown to the floor and started with the stockings, rolling the thinly-knitted silk over her knees. She stood up and they promptly slid down her thighs to sag around her ankles in unattractive rolls. Oh, right, garters - Donna tried again, then tied the frilly garters firmly around each thigh. When she stood up, the stocking stayed in place. She wiggled in a few experimental dance moves and though she wouldn't bet on them staying in place if she decided to break out into the Roger Rabbit, they would do.
Then a sinfully soft chemise and one layer of petticoats (she ignored the others, shooting them the evil eye for good measure) and...did that slip go over or under the corset? Did she even need another slip? Was it supposed to be worn instead of the petticoats? Was she supposed to have been wearing one all along? Eh. So she decided the slip and the other petticoats should join their fellow exile in the growing pile of no-way-in-hell-am-I-putting-that-on.
Ah, but the corset - her arch nemesis - she couldn't abandon as much as she wanted to, since it was the only form of support for her breasts. She looked at it with distaste even if it was a pretty little thing, all lace and tucks and ribbon, fancier than the one she usually wore.
She shimmied it over her head, the back laces already partially tight. Now began the contortionist act, as she struggled to pull the laces tight behind her. The gown looked slightly forgiving, though and she had lost a bit of weight due to her illness and her horrible cooking, so she didn't have to cinch herself up quite so much.
Ah, the good part now! Greedy hands reached for the blue silk. She carefully stepped into it, tucking the thin petticoat down as she pulled the gown up and settled the fluttery sleeves on her shoulders. The teeny tiny buttons went up the side of the bodice, thank god, and not the back.
She slipped on her only pair of nice shoes then viewed the whole effect in the mirror. She gazed at herself critically, smoothing back a few stands of hair she had dislodged from her up-do in her struggle with the corset. Not bad! The square neckline and pale lace set off the creaminess of her skin while a broad band of darker blue circled her middle, emphasizing the generous hourglass curve of her waist.
Giving herself a confident salute, Donna sailed out her bedroom door to find the Doctor already waiting for her in the living room.
"Darling," he breathed, "you look wonderful!" He gripped her hands and brought them to his lips in frank adoration.
"You're looking pretty good yourself, Sp- sweetheart." And he did look dashing in a dark wool suit, his bowtie charmingly askew.
"I have one last gift for you," he murmured.
Donna had the overwhelming urge to pull a "Pretty Woman" and say "well nothing else is fitting into this dress," but then swallowed her quip and almost her tongue when he pulled a jeweler's box out of his pocket.
Her gaze flew to the box as he nudged it open. Inside was a simple silver chain, a small pearl teardrop pendant nestled in the middle. It wasn't breathtaking or particularly expensive, but probably the most he could have afforded after the expense of the dress and underthings.
The last time someone had given her jewelry, it was the Doctor slipping a biodamper on her finger.
"It's lovely," she murmured, not trusting herself to speak more as she ruthlessly squashed the fluttery swell of emotion.
"Would you like to trade?" he asked shyly.
"Huh?"
"Your watch for the necklace," he clarified, hand lifting to her neck, fingering the sturdy old chain that held the watch and TARDIS key, hidden now under her dress' neckline.
Terror at the idea of being apart from them shook through her, and it must have shown on her face because the Doctor pulled back, self-consciously. "Of course, if you do not care for it, you do not have to-"
Donna got a grip on her irrational concern. Nothing has happened for months; you can leave this here for one night. And it looks ridiculous with this dress. And now the Doctor was babbling about the silver necklace being "just a tiny thing, really, nothing of any consequence...we can buy you a nicer one, what was I thinking, you probably do not even like pearls, I should have asked-"
She silenced him with a finger to the lips. "I love it, and it's just perfect for tonight. I was only surprised; I'm so attached to this old watch. Don't mind me being silly."
She drew the thick chain over her head and carefully placed it in a small bowl on the fireplace mantel, then turned around so the Doctor could settle the silver chain around her neck and hook the tiny latch.
When he moved his hands away, she turned on her toe, striking a pose. "How does it look?"
"You make it stunning," he swore.
"Flatterer," she accused, but then surprised them both by launching herself at him with a spur-of-the-moment hug. "Thank you," she whispered into his ear, nuzzling for one weak instant before she pushed away.
Before he could regain his balance she was gripping his hand and practically pulling him off his feet as she tugged him to the door. "So do you even know how to dance?"
"I- I honestly have no clue if I do!"
"Well, c'mon then! Let's find out!"
Joan Redfern had had a horrid week. Mrs. Smith had been the only one to suffer so severely from the influenza, but she had not been the only one taken ill. Joan's days had been a constant parade of sniffling boys and whining men, along with the usual repertoire of cuts and scrapes and bruises.
She was exhausted. Although in her most secret of wishes she had longed for some eligible bachelor (of which there were none, frankly) to ask her to the village dance, ultimately she was looking forward to a quiet evening free of work.
She trudged into the kitchen, arms laden with used cups, and almost ran into Jenny, one of the maids.
"Jenny, do please watch where you are going!" she snapped.
"Sorry, ma'am," apologized the maid robotically.
Joan pressed a hand to her temple, tired and contrite. "No, forgive me for snapping. I am not myself."
Jenny's eyes sharpened, an odd smile stretching her thin lips."Really? Whatever is wrong? Do sit a spell, ma'am."
Joan would have told the maid to mind her station; she wasn't one to indulge in idle chatter with the staff. But the idea of putting her feet up with a cup of tea overrode her concerns.
She eased onto a chair, the staff kitchen was unusually empty due to most heading home early to ready themselves for the dance.
Jenny brought over a brimming cup of lukewarm tea, almost splashing Joan. Joan bit back the instinctive scolding. "Jenny, are you not attending the town dance tonight?"
The maid twitched her head like a curious bird. "Dance? Oh no, not me."
"Me, either. Frankly, I am relieved. This past week of caring for Mrs. Smith has been almost more than I could handle."
"How so, ma'am?"
"Well, the fever would not break. She was saying the craziest things - I really feared we would lose her. I do not know what Mr. Smith would have done."
Jenny leaned so far forward Joan had to hastily lean back. The maid's eyes glittered, wide and staring. She really hoped the maid was not coming down with the influenza now, too.
"Crazy things? Oh how very exciting. Like what? Do tell."
"It was the fever, you understand. People say strange things when ill. I think she took her husband's stories to heart; they translated into dreams about...oh, many odd things... monsters and blue boxes. She kept crying for a doctor, the poor woman, though one had already seen her."
Jenny sat back suddenly, hands clamping on the table. "Where is this Mrs. Smith now?" she demanded.
Joan stared at the maid, jaw agape. "Watch your tone!"
"Forgive me," replied Jenny, not sounding contrite at all, "I merely wondered if I could offer to help care for her."
Slightly mollified, Joan sipped at her tea, grimacing at the over-steeped brew. "No need now, she is quite well and probably attending the dance with her husband."
Jenny stood abruptly, jostling the table and causing Joan's teacup to slosh tea over everything. "Jenny!" began Joan, another round of chastising on her tongue.
But without a single by-your-leave, the maid turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Joan gaping at the mess on the table.
Donna stood in the small water closet of the town hall, blotting at the shine on her face and swiping at the curls that had escaped her chignon. The dance was a rousing success, practically every couple in the small town in attendance.
She had managed three laughing, fumbling waltzes with the Doctor - who it turned out knew the bare essentials of the dance but had picked it up fast enough - before she plead for a bathroom break.
Giving up on the escaping tendrils, she eased the door open, expecting to find the hall lined with waiting women even if the WC was a bit far from the main dance room. But for once the hallway was clear. She'd already walked down a few hallways and turned several corners before she realized she was going the wrong way. Rolling her eyes at herself, she was about to turn and start retracing her steps when the sound of voices reached her ears.
"Mother of Mine, are you certain the Doctor will be within this useless crowd of humans?"
Donna froze, instinctively pressing herself flat against the wall. Heart pounding, she peered around the corner. A male student, a maid from the Academy - Jenny, was her name, she thought - and a portly older man stood by a back door. Surrounding them were strange scarecrow creatures.
Donna felt slightly ill, and the room made one dizzy turn around her in shock. The scarecrow in the field had not been her imagination then. And...and...oh god, the watch! No, they'd made it two whole months, why now and on the one night she didn't have the bleeding watch!
"The nurse from the school said Mrs. Smith talked about the Doctor. This body has memories of a red-headed woman."
"How serendipitous. Let's find this Mrs. Smith, shall we, and ask her about the Doctor." The student smiled in a strange disjointed way, and Donna eased her head back around the corner, closing her eyes in a moment of pure agony. They knew she was here, and whatever had taken Jenny recognized her. It was time to get to the Doctor and run.
Good thing they were both good at that.
Donna turned as quietly as possible, easing away from the Family and holding her skirts tight against her body as she moved away. When she rounded the next corner, she bolted.
.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.
"John! John!" She pelted into the ballroom, rushing unerringly to the tall figure loitering by the food.
"Oh, there you are! I was-"
She cut him off mercilessly. "John...Doctor. We have to go. They're here."
His brow crumpled in confusion. "Leave? Why? Who? You need a doctor?"
"No! No - look, I don't have time to explain right now. You - YOU are the Doctor. Remember, your journal, the dreams and the box and everything? That's you. We have to go now."
His features stilled in fear and he grasped her arms. "Oh no, your fever. Are you ill again?" His hands reached up, cupped her face. "You do not feel warm yet, but..."
Donna was trembling in her need to get them out, and she honestly couldn't expect him to believe her. "Okay, yes. I'm sick, you're right. Let's go, take me a to Nurse Redfern now." She grabbed his arm and began to tug him towards the door.
"Donna, sweetheart. Stop; you are not thinking straight. The town doctor is here with his wife, we should just pull him aside right now. I knew I should not have rushed you to exert yourself," he berated himself as he forced them to a stop. He pulled his arm from her grip so he could grasp her elbow instead and steered her towards the center of the room again.
"Goddammit, Doctor!" fussed Donna, and the people immediately around them hushed in disapproval. "I'm not really ill. We need to leave! Look, look at me," she hissed at him and he turned back to her, surprised at her vehemence.
She grabbed his lapels, captured his eyes with hers and said, very carefully. "Think, really think. You know somewhere inside you already that something's been wrong all along, hasn't it. Your dreams aren't dreams; they're memories, and you wrote them all down in your little journal because you couldn't let them go, could you? You are the Doctor and they're coming for you. You just have to trust me, there's no time." Eyes steady on his, she tried to will all the truth she could into her words. "Won't you just trust me?"
His hand cupped her cheek gently as he studied her face, and she felt a hopeful moment of triumph at getting through to him.
"You are delirious," stated the Doctor flatly and his grip on her elbow changed from cajoling to implacable as he resumed hauling her with iron determination towards the town physician.
"No! Not that way you amnesiac dumbo!"
"YOU WILL BE SILENT! ALL OF YOU!" came the shouted command from the doorway, and Donna's stomach dropped to her feet as she whirled to view the man, student and maid walk through the door.
"Wha-" began the Doctor, and Donna gripped his wrist, nails digging in as she stepped in front of him.
"I SAID SILENCE!"
"Mr. Clark, what's going on?" demanded someone from the crowd, and Donna watched in horrified acceptance as "Mr. Clark" shot the man with a laser gun, reducing him to so much dust. Around her, women and men screamed.
"John," said Donna very quietly, pulling gently on the Doctor's frozen form as the townspeople blocking them from view began to panic and rush for the door, "Move towards the doorway. Forget I said anything-"
"We asked for silence!" bellowed the student, and Donna clamped her mouth shut, looking up to realize she had the leader's undivided attention, his gaze sweeping over her red hair, her hand clutching the Doctor's sleeve, and coming to the correct conclusion.
His head turned as if disconnected from his body as he swiveled his attention over to the shocked Doctor, struck immobile by the sudden violence.
"Now, then, we have a few questions for you, Mrs. Smith."
"No, better than that," chimed a young voice from somewhere in the crowd, as a little girl holding a balloon appeared. Donna vaguely remembered her sitting at a nearby table while she and the Doctor danced. Donna closed her eyes, already seeing where this was headed. "The teacher, her husband...he's the Doctor. Heard them talking."
Glittering eyes settled on the Doctor. "You took human form!" came the delighted realization from the student.
"Of course I am human! I was born as human as were you! And you Jenny and...and Mr. Clark, what is going on? This is madness!" the Doctor cried in alarmed confusion as he realized they had somehow become the center of attention. He grasped Donna's elbow and tried to step in front of her, but she was as immobile as a rock.
"Ooh, and a human brain, too, simple thick and dull."
"But he's no good to us like this!" complained Jenny.
"We need a Time Lord," mumbled Mr. Clark.
"Easily done," smirked the student, raising the laser gun to point at the Doctor. Donna's heart clenched, brain calculating a hundred possibilities as everyone flinched back. "Change back," he demanded.
"I don't know what you are talking about! I literally don't know what you-!" shouted the Doctor, and Donna was too focused on his pale face and on her own fear to feel Jenny come up beside her and yank her into her grip with one sharp tug.
Her gaze arrowed to the Doctor's horror-stricken face as she felt the laser gun pressed to her temple.
"This is your pretty little companion, isn't she? Your 'wife'?" Jenny's breath blew over Donna's ear, redolent of stale, rotten things. "Doesn't this scare you enough to change back?"
The Doctor compulsively moved toward them, desperation on every line of his face. "No! Don't hurt her! I do not know what you mean! Please, please just...I will give you anything you want, just tell me what you mean and...and let her go."
"Have you enjoyed it, Doctor? Being human?" taunted the student, the twisted grin never leaving his face as his unblinking gaze traveled between the Doctor and Donna. "Has it taught you wonderful things, having the 'love' of a good woman? Are you ready to lose her?"
"Wait, please, you can't hurt her! I will do anything, but I don't understand," begged the Doctor. His brown eyes focused on Donna, silently pleading with her to somehow make sense of a world gone crazy so that he could magically do as they asked and she could go free.
Donna felt Jenny becoming impatient, the gun wobbling against her temple. "Now, now, let's all calm down," said Donna very carefully. "He doesn't know what you want, right? Look, you can see he has no clue. But I..." she let herself go limp, felt Jenny's grip on her fumble as the maid tried to compensate for the sudden weight.
In a whirl she dipped under Jenny's arm, wrenching the gun away as she strong-armed Jenny into a shield. "I," Donna declared, "have been mugged twice in London and I they were far steadier at hangin' on to their weapons than you lot!" She leveled the weapon on the ringleader.
Donna faintly registered the Doctor gasping her name in surprise but she didn't dare turn to look at him as all weapons rounded on her.
"Now this companion is full of fire!" chortled Son of Mine.
"Yeah, redheads are known for it, bub. Now back off or I shoot your flippin' head off."
"Would you really pull the trigger?" he taunted.
Donna shot one quick blast over their heads as people screamed, her hand rock steady. "Not a fan of them, but pretty simple, yeah? Point and shoot, think I can manage to shoot that deranged grin off your face. Wanna risk it?"
"Careful, Son of Mine," cautioned Mr. Clark. "It's all for you, so you can live forever."
With a conceding nod, he dropped his own weapon and the rest of the Family followed suit.
"Doctor, get everyone out that side door, now!" she commanded.
"But Donn-"
"Do it!"
Donna held still, heart pounding as she heard the Doctor ushering everyone through the door and the flurry of sound as people began to stampede out, until the room fell silent and the Doctor's footsteps were hurriedly returning to her. "Now you! Go!" she shouted at him.
"No."
"Goddammit Doctor, now's not the time to argue! Go!"
"Stop calling me that! And I'm not leaving without you!"
"Of all the time to turn stubborn!" she hollered, suddenly throwing Jenny at the rest of the family so she could back up until she felt the Doctor's body bump up against her.
She aimed the gun at the Family as they advanced and she and the Doctor backed up. "Don't try anything!" she warned.
"Quite fast on your toes, aren't you? Should have taken one like you instead," sneered Jenny.
"So they're dead then? Those bodies you're wearing; you've killed them?" demanded Donna, unable to keep her eyes from straying to the little girl. So young!
"Indeed. Useless little lifespans, like flies they are, and their bodies give up so easily."
"Then there's nothing really keeping me from shooting you, now is there, so I'd watch what you say about us humans, thank you!"
"She's almost brave, this one," chortled Son of Mine. "You must have enjoyed having her, Doctor; a real firecracker."
"Oi! Are you calling me a slappe-yeeeah!" Donna screeched, as she and the Doctor stumbled into a scarecrow coming in through the door.
She felt a hand pluck the gun from her but she was too busy grabbing hold of the Doctor and tugging him away from the mass of bodies converging on the doorway, and then they were running down the hallway and out of the building, into the night.
To be continued ... who needs a gun when you've got cookware
Reviews are like a kissogram from the Doctor (or Donna, equal opportunity. Or you can just watch them snog each other, if that's your thing.)