Author Note: Hello again! Alright so moving right along… I'd like to thank you again for your continued support of this story. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it every time I see my writing is being enjoyed. And thanks to my reviewers! I really love hearing from you and I hope you'll continue to give me your feedback along the way. As I've said, I've begun to break away from the script and this being my first fanfic, I was nervous I wouldn't do the characters or the original dialogue justice. That said, I also didn't want to make the story drag on. So this is what I ended up with. I hope you like it! Until next time. –AMouse
If there was one thing Donna Noble knew about herself, it was that she was average. She lived an average life, had an average job, and was minutes away from being married to an average bloke. It was therefore especially disturbing when, on the most important day of her life, Donna Noble found herself suddenly glowing. In the blink of her eye she'd gone from standing in the chapel to standing in a strange, dimly lit room.
She had been half way down the aisle, her arm linked through her father, Geoff's. Now she was in a cavernous room with high vaulted ceilings and coral struts made to look dilapidated by the blue ambient lighting. A pleasant humming seemed to emanate the room from all directions.
She gave out a surprised 'squeak.' This was distinctly not Saint Mary's!
"What?" Exclaimed a male voice behind her. She spun in alarm at the sound.
After a short exchange of loud words in which Donna feigned fury to cover her terror and the man kept adding more levels of confusion to his voice, the latter of the two finally jumped into action.
"You can't do that… I wasn't... we're in flight! That is—that is physically impossible! How did—?" Asked the strange man, adding in the use of hand motions and hair pulling to demonstrate dramatically his inability to comprehend.
This man, Donna decided immediately, was not average. His hair was neatly arranged to look as though he'd just rolled out of bed and even the damage he had just inflicted to his roots had only added to the artfully styled disarray. His suit was brown wool with blue pinstripes and he wore a white oxford and brown argyle tie. On his feet – inexplicably, were a pair of off white chucks, scuffed and worn from age and excess use.
"Tell me where I am!" She demanded of him. "I demand you tell me right now! Where am I?"
He stood there gawking at her like she was the odd one in their pair; when he did speak his voice was a flat line. "Inside the TARDIS."
She gathered up all the contempt she could manage for this man, obviously the source behind the trick which was keeping her even now from becoming Mrs. Lance Bennett. "The what?"
"The TARDIS." He enunciated, making Donna bristle. Donna may be average but she was not stupid; no way would she allow her kidnapper to talk to her as though she was.
"The what?" She spat.
"The TARDIS!" Her kidnapper said in a louder voice. It seemed he believed the source of the problem was bad hearing instead of abduction and pretend words!
"The what?" She asked again at an all-time high, making him wince. His head twitched, the beginnings of a gesture that suggested he was about to look over his shoulder, but he seemed to reconsider, instead moving over to the large structure in the middle of the temple-like room.
This time he attempted an explanation in a tone more appropriate for use indoors. "It's called the TARDIS."
Partially following his actions at the structure, Donna began to taking in more of the room as a whole. The structure itself contained, at its heart, the strange iridescent blue light. It pulsed up and down in the time with the humming and although the sight of it evoked in her a curious warmth, it also left her distinctly uncomfortable; she had the oddest sensation – as though she were feeling the amusement of someone other than herself.
On the structure were various bits and bobs. A whisk, a bicycle pump, a computer keyboard, some levers held in place with string or mended with duct tape, and many, many buttons. Though she didn't risk turning her back to her kidnapper for a more thorough inspection, Donna could see that on the walls along the room were many roundels, some housing more miscellaneous odds and ends, others appeared empty.
Silently chastising herself for allowing her curiosity to distract her at a time like this, Donna again steeled herself, spitting out venomously, "That's not even a proper word. You're just saying things!"
The man made a face reminiscent of an outraged five-year-old and she had the distinct impression that he'd had to swallow back a 'nu-uhhhh' before it could escape his lips. "How did you get in here? He asked her instead.
Stiff with indignation – 'The gull of this man!' – she barely managed to restrained herself from physically assaulting him.
"Well, obviously, when you kidnapped me. Who was it? Who's paying you? Is it Nerys? Oh, my God, she's finally got me back. This has got Nerys written all over it."
He was still just standing there, looking her up and down in confusion. Although Donna wasn't yet willing to believe it she was beginning to get the impression that his man was as sincerely confused as he appeared to be.
"Who the hell is Nerys?" He pouted.
"Your best friend."
"Hold on, wait a minute - what're you dressed like that for?" He wanted to know.
"I'm going ten pin bowling." She condescended. "Why do you think, Dumbo? I was halfway up the aisle! I've been waiting all my life for this. I was just seconds away! And then you—I dunno—you drugged me or something!"
"I haven't done anything!" Said the man with vehemence, finally looking up from whatever he was doing for more than a few sporadic seconds at a time.
"We're having the police on you! Me and my husband—as soon as he is my husband—we're gonna sue the living backside off ya!" She adds in a shake of her fist for good measure.
Just as her ranting tapers off, Donna catches salvation in the corner of her eye in the form of a wooden door. Running to it intent on escape she pays no heed to her captor's urgent tone, "Wait a minute!" 'Well, of course you would say that, wouldn't you!'
Shuffling as best as she could in her wedding gown and heels, Donna made it to the narrow double doors and pulled them open with a vigor that sent them slamming into the walls on either side of the frame… and froze dead in her tracks. Her mouth agape, her mind for the shortest of moments was peacefully blank before it reached a crescendo of frenzied activity.
Because laid out before average Donna Noble was the universe. Literally, the universe. Her eyes roved with crazed intensity, utterly terrified and utterly transfixed over the size of it and the sight of it all! Before her, dust and gas swirled lazily in colors the likes of which she had never imagined existed, all of it floating in synchronicity within and around the rocks and debris.
And there—in the distance, half obscured by the swirling gases amid the expanse of sky was a star, blazing yellow-orange and dying. Space, Donna realized, was not black or empty at all. Every visible speck of the universe before her eyes was littered with color and even where there was nothing there was no black to be seen. Instead there were stars; there were so many—she recalled a time when as a child she had taken handfuls of glitter and thrown fists full of it into the air 'To make the world more beautiful,' she'd told her gramps; now as Donna stood looking out into space she thought this was where the glitter must have gone.
Something inside Donna that had long since burnt out sparked back to life in those few seconds gazing out of the wooden doors. It rose to the surface just for a moment before being shoved back down and forced to submit to her pent-up rage and fear, and the sense of voicelessness she had long drug behind her on heavy chains; but for those few wondrous seconds, Donna had felt like her heart would break from the ecstasy of it all.
"You're in space." The pinstriped man's voice burst the bubble on her thoughts. "Outer Space. This is my... space-ship. It's called the 'TARDIS'."
"How am I breathing?"
"The TARDIS is protecting us."
"Who are you?"
"I'm the Doctor. You?"
"Donna…"
The Doctor looks the bride up and down again, contemplatively. "Human?" He finally wonders.
"Yeah. Is that optional?"
"Well, it is for me." He tells her matter-of-factly.
Donna glances at him but can't make herself feel surprise anymore.
"You're an alien." She states, just to clarify. 'Definitely not an average bloke then.'
"Yeah."
She tells him she's cold for lack anything better to say, because her has got gooseflesh rising on her bare arms. He slams the 'TARDIS' doors shut in compliance before darting back over to what she can now only assume is the console of his spaceship, beginning to murmur to himself – or maybe to the room at large – about her impossibility and temporal something's or alignments with Chro-something shells. By the time his excited theories had escalated to – she presumed – begin the testing of his hypothesis, Donna had had quite enough, thank-you! Leaning back and putting her weight into it she slapped the spastic alien full across the face.
"What was that for?!" The Doctor sputtered in affront.
"Get me to the church!" She yelled.
He turned back to the controls and started circling the console in preparation to begin piloting; Donna thought she heard him muttering under his breath something like, "Almost as bad as Jackie…"
"Right! Fine! I don't want you here anyway! Where is this wedding?"
"Saint Mary's, Hayden Road, Chiswick, London… England… Earth… the Solar System!" Donna ended in a fit of pique (a result of his slight of her prodding at her an old insecurity).
Her eyes had again been following him as he rounded a corner to the other side of the console, giving her a first glance at a shadowy corner of the console room. Tucked away in that corner were two things: a threshold leading to a similarly dim corridor, and gurney surrounded by medical equipment and supporting what appeared to be a human being.
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Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, Donna began screaming—blood-curtlingly loud and sharp—she backs away from the Doctor, putting as much distance between them as she can, pressing herself against the wall even as his head shoots up in surprise and locks onto her colorless, horrorstruck face.
"I knew it." She managed to get out the words with barely any hesitancy; though why after such a strong reaction she cared to act fearless was a mystery. "Acting all innocent!"
She points an accusing finger in the direction of the corridor and the Doctor looks over to the medical bed and equipment where Rose was still – mercifully – unconscious.
Donna wasn't entirely wrong, the Doctor thought. He had been avoiding walking toward or even looking at that corner of the room in an attempt to avoid exactly this reaction. Rose needed rest in order to heal. It had only been hours since her collision with that wall and she was in pain every wakeful moment. The constant yelling – understandable as it may be – Donna had been doing since the moment she arrived on the TARDIS was not conducive to a peaceful sleeping environment. (Moreover, thought the Doctor, the only thing more frightening than Rose Tyler suffering is a Rose Tyler roused from sleep before her time.)
"I'm not the first, am I? How many women have you abducted?" She demanded of him.
"I haven't abducted anyone! I was taking you home, remember? And I didn't abduct her either; she's my friend. She's also hurt and asleep so I would appreciate it if you could keep your voice down, thanks."
Though apparently surprised by his outburst, this being the first instance where'd he'd shown any sort of real ire, she pushed on, heedless of volume or tact, all the while edging her way along the outer walls of the console room in an attempt to bring herself closer to Rose, probably to protect her from the kind of mad alien experiments she'd seen on movies and the History channel, the Doctor imagined.
"I'll say she's hurt; look at the state of her! What did you say you called yourself, 'the Doctor?' Doctor what? Kevorkian?!"
The Doctor's whole demeanor had been shifting subtly during the duration of Donna's accusations, but calling him 'Doctor Kevorkian' had been a low blow (one she hadn't known she'd made, but had none-the-less meant). The Doctor often felt like a bringer of death. But insinuating as Donna had that he would ever intentionally cause Rose lasting physical harm incensed him, and his ire quickly morphed into a moment of open hostility.
"I would never hurt her," he spat in antipathy; just the idea of causing Rose pain making him slightly hysteric. He resolved to move himself back to the console, catching the look 'deer in headlights' look which passed over Donna's face before turning his back to her. The faster he got her out of his TARDIS the faster he could get Rose into her own bed and maybe catch a few hours of sleep himself.
Still, he kept one eye on Donna, lest she do anything to disturb Rose's rest. He didn't want to scare Donna further but that was not something he would allow to happen.
Luckily it seemed he needn't have bothered. She appeared to have measured his tone and his expression and reached the conclusion that he was being genuine. That, or she had finally gotten close enough to Rose that her human eyes could make out the heart monitor, IV line, oxygen and her carefully bandaged body through the darkness.
"What happened to her?" She asked softly. There was a sort of motherly concern to her voice that made the Doctor close his eyes and think of the odd sort of surrogate mother he had just said his last good-bye to.
"I almost lost her."
Donna levels him with the steely glare he has already come to associate with her 'tough guy' act. "Well, you can hurry up and lose me!" Her eyes soften however, as his words belatedly register; she seems to appraise him deeply, her eyes searching his for a moment before nods her head in recognition of whatever it was she'd been looking for. "How do you mean, 'lost'?"
The Doctor glares darkly at her for a moment and there is a momentary lapse in her armor. A small spike of fear in her eyes, gone just as quickly as it came. "There was a battle." Was all he was willing to say – though he surprised himself by saying anything at all.
Making an obvious move to push the conversation along, the Doctor claps his hands together; "Right! Chiswick."
They stepped out of the TARDIS onto a crowded street that was clearly not Chiswick. The Doctor hadn't realized it for longer than he felt was acceptable but something was definitely wrong with the old girl; it had been since the last gap in the universe had sealed.
While he stoked her worriedly and tried to get an answer to what ailed her, Donna had taken her first look at the outside of the 'spaceship'. Remaining oblivious to Donna's revelation and concurrent examination of the outside of the TARDIS, the Doctor had begun assailing her with questions of possible alien contact or lights in the sky, rounded off his line of questioning by insinuating her fiancé might be a Slitheen.
Meanwhile, having finished with the outer examination Donna sticks her head back inside the doors to confirm one last time that yes, it is in fact bigger on the inside; she stumbles back a step and clamps a hand over her mouth before turning tail and barreling away – the Doctor, who had finally noticed her silence and gone to investigate following close behind.
Once he'd caught up to her he had fallen into step beside her and began trying to induce her to return to the TARDIS, but she firmly declined and would not be swayed.
Now, away from the oddity of the Doctor's impossible machine, Donna remembers her wedding and realizing after a quick glance at her watch that she is about to miss it. After a suggestion from the Doctor that she use a cell to ring her mum (although he himself had no phone to offer her and Donna wasn't carrying hers—"I'm in my wedding dress. It doesn't have pockets! Who has pockets? Have you ever seen a bride with pockets? When I went to my fitting, do you think I said "Alison, the one thing I forgot to say is give me pockets!") and rude comment, Donna storms off again, shouting "bloody Martian" in parting; after a moment spent sputtering, "I'm—I'm not... I'm not... I'm not from Mars," he once again trails after her.
Getting increasingly frustrated as all attempts to hail a taxi fail (and increasingly self-conscious as she receives more than one demeaning comment from random blokes – the 'dressed in drag' comment earning her a look of appraisal from the Doctor) Donna manages as much as a thankful smile in the Doctor's direction when he finally intervenes and a cab stops for them.
Her smile ends up being short lived since neither have got any money. 'Just as well, really', thinks the Doctor, as he's just remembered Rose, now guilty for running off and letting her slip from his mind and also torn because he really has no choice but to stay with Donna to figure this out.
Donna eventually spots a phone box. As they start toward it with a plan to reverse the charges so she can make her call, she admits her distaste of the holiday to the Doctor – a confession which earns her a prolonged gape.
He holds open the phone box door for her once they reach it, then sonics the phone so she can make her call; when she questions him on how he'd made it work he mutters "something Martian," then dismisses himself to give her privacy as well as to find a cash point to borrow some money.
It's only a short while later that the Doctor spots the trumpet playing Santa; he nearly rolls his eyes at his luck. 'If Rose were here she'd make a 'why does every Christmas always end like this,' comment... and I'd roll my eyes and say 'not always.' Then she'd hold up her fingers and say: "The Gelth, that time we lost Jack in the snow and he lost his sweater and had to keep warm with that elf-thing overnight, the Sycorax, that Christmas with the Bronte sisters when you 'accidentally' had them convinced you were courting them all and they started a hair pulling match right in the middle of the turkey carving, and now more robot Santa's…" "Oh, okay, yes…fine." I'd frown, "I suppose our Christmas's do tend to—'
The Doctor shook his head to clear his thoughts. This was why Rose was dangerous! She had already long since had the tendency to pervade his thoughts in the middle of important and dangerous situations, how much worse would it be if they ever attempted any sort of relationship.
Whilst the Doctor had been daydreaming, Donna had stopped another taxi (this time with money she'd begged off a pedestrian); sticking her head out the window, she hollered, "Thanks for nothing, spaceman! I'll see you in Court," as her cab passed him by – robot Santa at the wheel.
Trumpet Santa's closing in from one direction and Donna having unknowingly rode off in danger in another, the Doctor swivels around with sonic in hand, directing it at the cash point he directs the machine to spit its contents into the air; a crowd accumulates immediately and in the frenzy, as people duck and weave and stuff their pockets with as much money as possible the Doctor is able to make his escape to the TARDIS, intent on saving Donna Noble from whatever the mad ginger woman had gotten herself into.
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Reaching the TARDIS doors at a sprint and using nimble fingers to quickly unlock and push his way inside, sending a cursory glance toward Rose to find her still asleep (with stronger vitals), the Doctor launches himself at the console with a regretful apology to the old girl for forcing her to fly while she's sick.
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Rose starts awake almost the moment the – frankly rougher than the Doctor had anticipated – flight commenced. Before even the sleep had passed she had been feeling around with clumsy hands for the bed controls, which upon finding had the button which would give her the means to sit herself up.
With a better vantage point Rose is able to watch the Doctor's unusually aggressive piloting of the TARDIS; she winces in empathy at the feeling of the TARDIS's pain in the back of her mind and she's about to yell at him for hurting her but then he's apologizing to the old girl and stroking her lovingly on the spot he'd just taken the mallet to; the TARDIS hums in forgiveness and understanding, which induces a confused Rose to hold her tongue.
She watches as he begins to fiddle with a large lever with a spatula taped to it whilst rummaging through his pockets; engrossed as she is in trying to understand what is happening, it takes Rose a moment to realize that he's now also looking over his shoulder at her alarmed face. She peers back at his as best she can with the gurney under her rattling around in the thrashing of the console room.
"I'm sorry I woke you." The Doctor has to raise his voice over the turbulence to be heard. "Bit of a thing…well—I say 'thing', I mean a problem; there's a problem…more than a bit of one, actually." He gives up his pocket diving for the moment to thwack the console with the mallet again. "Picked up an extra passenger by accident; she was trying to get married and then she was in the console room… Anyway, long story short… was trying to get her back to her fiancé when she hopped into a cab and got abducted by robot Santa—remember them Rose?—so now—the TARDIS isn't feeling well—I'm piloting a flying the old girl across the motorway and trying to catch up to Santa's taxi!"
He ends in excitement and she smiles at him toothily for his ability to be enthusiastic under the circumstances; then the TARDIS tips on its side and Rose's gurney almost topples over.
Adrenaline is a funny little glandular secretion. As the gurney rolls across the room shaking Rose finds she's in very little pain. Instead, she looks over a the Doctor and asks him, "How can I help?"
"Help?!" He looks at her incredulously. "You want to help? Rose, half of your body was just artificially sewn back together; you can't get out of bed! You want to help?"
"Yes." She nodded.
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Around them the TARDIS hummed exhaustedly, which made the Doctor frowned. He could feel the old girl nudging his consciousness, directing his eyes to the rack under Rose's gurney where an extra saline drip, a pair of crutches, and a folded black hover chair had been stored.
He knew immediately what the TARDIS was suggesting. He'd known that chair was there but he hadn't intended to help her into it for days; she wasn't strong enough to be moved as much as she already had been (and she'd be incredibly lucky if all the thrashing of the gurney didn't lead to further injury), let alone the fact that in that chair she could bump into things, or the strain on her already tired muscles sitting erect in the chair would cause in just a short amount of time.
Still, he saw the old girl's point. Rose already knew how to operate the chair. They had once spent hours racing around the TARDIS garden in them before tag had meandered into bumper chairs. That was the night they'd ended up in the library with cold pizza and hot tea to finish Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban before Rose had plead exhaustion and gone off to her room.
Seeing little choice since he couldn't find any string in his pockets anyway, after all, not even he could save Donna and operate a sick TARDIS at the same time, he gave up his search, crossing the room and just managing to intercept Rose's gurney from wobbling right into the safety rail.
"Fine." He said in a gruff voice that would have been much more at home on the face of this Doctor's predecessor. He held down the gurney with a deceivingly strong arm, stopping it from all but the most aggressive of shaking as he reached under the bed, dragging out the hover chair out, unfolding it, and locking it into place in one swift move.
Then he folded down the bedrail. "You will be careful." He told her gravely in a voice that claimed authority. "You will do exactly as I say, do you understand me?"
For a moment there was indignation in her eyes but she didn't arguing, only gave one stiff nod. He took her gently under the knees, helping her swing her body so her legs dangled off the bed. He gently slid her forward from the gurney, always trying to keep her as level and steady so no more damage to her body would be done.
Once he'd placed her securely in the chair and strapped her in as tightly as he dared, he had made a point of reminding her not to use her left hand no matter what. (He doesn't really think she will but he knows adrenaline is coursing her body from the high stress of the situation and that her mind is ignoring her pain.) Still, he supposes three hands are better than two.
He quickly shows her what levers to push to keep the TARDIS's momentum and how to keep her level if she tilts this way or that; then he draws her attention to the lever he had been holding earlier and states explicitly that she is not to pull it down unless he tells her to do so.
Then he's sprinting to the TARDIS doors and throwing them open, one arm extended above his head, his hand latched onto the frame so he dangle the majority of his body precariously out the open doors.
He's teetering side-by-side with the cab, watching Donna as she presses her hands and face against the window.
"Open the door!" He yells, repeating himself when she doesn't understand him at first.
"I can't, it's locked!"
The Doctor sets his sonic to deactivate the child safely latch so Donna can roll down her window.
"Santa's a robot." She whisper-yells like a person sharing a secret in confidence.
"Donna, open the door."
"What for?"
"You've got to jump!"
"I'm not bleedin' flip jumping," She shrills at him. "I'm supposed to be getting married!"
The cab picks up speed as Santa tries to break away from the TARDIS. "Pull the lever!" The Doctor yells back to Rose.
A small explosion sounds behind him and Rose lets out a small howl of pain; the Doctor turns his head enough to see sparks in the corner of his eye Rose clutching her right hand in a closed fist against her chest, her chin and shoulders tucked in instinctually to protect herself.
"Rose!" He yells to her. As much as he regrets letting her into that chair he can't run to her right now; what he needs is for her to resume her ministrations and get the TARDIS leveled out again.
"I'm alright! Sorry, 'm fine!" She yells back – though he expects she's really not – he's forced to take her at her word on it for the time being.
Forcing his attention back to the motorway just as Rose's inattention leads to the poor girl to skim the roof a car, he lets out a relieved sigh when she begins to level out and surge ahead. 'Surely Rose can't have been too hurt in the explosion if she's still able to navigate.'
Gaining enough momentum to put the TARDIS back in line with the taxi, the Doctor aims his sonic screwdriver, deactivating the robot driver.
"Listen to me—you've got to jump!"
"I'm not jumping on a motorway," Donna cried.
The Doctor pointed at the hibernating robot in the front seat. "Whatever that thing is, it needs you. And whatever it needs you for, it's not good. Now, come on!"
"I'm in my wedding dress!"
"Yes! You look lovely!" He told her, compressing as much sarcasm into his words as possible. Thanks to his Time Lord senses, Rose's suppressed chuckling reached his ears over the cacophony of rushing wind and cars outside. "Come on!"
It was hard for the Doctor to look Donna Noble in the eye. Since she'd met him she had been intermittently angry, afraid, or disappointed. Even now as she opened the door of the moving cab she was panting in terror.
"I can't do it." She shook her head in defeat.
"Trust me."
"Is that what you said to her? Your friend? The one laying in there half dead? Did she trust you?"
"Yes, she did." He says to her with a small, sad smile on his face. "And she is so alive! And she's going to stay that way. Now, jump!"
With a scream Donna flings herself across the distance into the open doors of the TARDIS, crumbling onto the floor, the Doctor laid out under her.
Taking it upon herself, the old girl slams her own doors shut even as Rose flies them away from the motor pool flipping a switch essentially equivalent to 'putting her in park' so the TARDIS can hover for a moment while they catch their breaths.
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Pushing her off of him, the Doctor jettisons himself to his feet and takes mammoth-sized strides away from Donna, toward the console. Following his trajectory Donna sees a pale woman with deep circles cradling her eyes; she was frowning at the Doctor as he hastened toward her perch – 'a floating chair'. Even Donna's thoughts had deadpanned; she thought that nothing would surprise her ever again.
The Doctor, in his dash to the girl, (for Donna had stepped slightly closer and now realized the girl was just slightly too young to be considered 'a woman') had apparently forgotten she was there; though slightly irked at being ignored after the day she had been having Donna resigned herself to politely observing the pair, feeling just now wasn't the time for interruption.
The contradictory nature of the Doctor confused her, although she wasn't sure why. Already she had grown accustomed to the Spaceman's quick shift in tempers, as well as the oscillating body language. She recognized in the display before her how body language gave away the sincerity of his emotions, even as with his words he tried to hide behind.
"Let me see." He barked at the frowning girl with his hand held in expectance. Clearly he hadn't felt the need to ask; though the blonde's ocher eyes flashed at the demand in his voice she complied without much hesitance, placing her right hand on his much larger palm.
"It was nothing," the girl spoke tiredly; her brash dialect at odds with the lilting sound of her voice. Donna thought bafflingly of the way wild dogs bark and growl boorishly when threatened. It was only when they were alone that they could be heard through her open window, whimpering and howling in melodic cadence under the open sky. The sound had used to set Donna's teeth on edge, but that was before she had seen the sky from the open doors of the Doctor's spaceship…now she thinks she might join them. There would never come a day where she didn't long to float amongst the stars again. "Really, 'm okay. It barely even hurts," the girl pleaded.
He brought her hand closer to his face with the barest touches and sighed stoically. "That's the adrenaline; it'll wear off." Dropping her hand and allowing frustration to seep into his voice he added, "And you aren't 'okay.' Those are first degree burns and your left hand was already useless to start with! I told you to be careful! I said—"
"I was careful! I did what you said to do…how is it my fault that the console started sparking? You said it yourself, she's sick; she couldn't help it."
"Right—fine…okay," he huffed. "Let's just get you to your room and into bed before the adrenaline wears off. I still have that 'thing' to deal with and you've helped enough on this one." The blonde girl opened her mouth, probably to argue but was silenced by a commanding glance. "No. No arguments. I appreciate your help and I don't know how it would have worked if you hadn't been here but you can't do anymore and you know it. So let's go – let's get you sorted so I can go out there without worrying about the state of you so I can come back here, and we can hide out in the vortex for a few weeks while you heal."
It was clear he hadn't been asking for her approval during his rant. He turned on his heel and the blonde followed on her floating chair. She had just disappeared from Donna's view when a deafening alarm sounded; the Doctor reappeared seconds later, he rushed wide-eyed to the console.
Donna watched with her hands covering her ears as the alien proceeded to caper back and forth, pressing a multitude of buttons. She could feel it when the ship finally landed, as it seemed to give a great heave in effort before coming to a stop with a 'thud'. Smoke poured out from the central column and the Doctor – acknowledging her presence for the first time since she'd been shoved off him without ceremony – ordered her outside with a quick assurance that he would soon follow. As she spun quickly and made her way to the doors she caught sight of him running back down the hall where his injured 'friend' had disappeared to.
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She had looking at the watch on her wrist, counting out the seconds ticking by when the doors to the impossible box opened and the Doctor stepped out gagging on smoke and brandishing a fire extinguisher.
He tossed it aside and made his way to her. "The funny thing is, for a spaceship, she doesn't really do that much flying. We'd better give her a couple of hours." He took his eyes off the view of South London and made a quick inspection of her. "You all right?"
Donna knew this strange alien honestly wanted to know. "Doesn't matter."
"Did we miss it?" The Spaceman frowned.
"Yeah."
"Well, you can book another date..."
"Course we can." She agreed.
"Still got the honeymoon..." He hedged.
She shook her head sadly, "It's just a holiday now."
"Yeah... yeah. Sorry…"
"It's not your fault." She mutters.
"Oh!" The Doctor starts happily, "That's a change."
"Wish we had a time machine. Then we could go back and get it right."
"...Yeah—yeah. But... even if I did, I couldn't go back on someone's personal timeline... Apparently."
She looks at him cynically for a moment before deciding he was mad, then she let her eyes drop to the ground with a sigh and veritably 'plopped' herself down on the building's ledge. After a moment she felt him drape his coat around her before again joining her.
"God, you're skinny. This wouldn't fit a rat!"
He doesn't make a reply, but shifts around a bit as he searches his pocket for something. "Oh, and you'd better put this on." He tells her when he finds what looks like a plain, white gold wedding band.
"Oh, do you have to rub it in?" She whines at him whilst he rolls his eyes.
"Those creatures can trace you. This is a bio-damper. Should keep you hidden…With this ring, I thee bio-damp."
"For better or for worse." She answers his cheek with cheek and he gives her a small smile.
Thinking it was time for a subject change she decides to ask him what the robot Santa's are for, but doesn't understand much of his explanation. Instead she latches onto his reference of 'last Christmas' and asks him, "What happened then?"
He looks at her in puzzlement before talking about spaceships over the skies, but she asserts her ignorance of the event, as she'd gone to sleep early with a hangover.
"I spent Christmas Day just over there, the Powell Estate. With this... family. My friend, she had this family. Well, they were...they were my family too, I suppose…Still... gone now."
"Your friend... who is she?" Donna couldn't help asking. Keeping her question vague in hopes he would tell her something, anything about who she was, what she was to him; clearly she had come from humble beginnings.
"Question is, what do camouflaged robot mercenaries want with you? And how did you get inside the TARDIS? I don't know... What's your job?" He asks, now fiddling with the metal thing in his hand.
She tried to hid her increasing frustration by answering his questions, "I'm a secretary," but the Martian seemed to have cornered the market on rude.
"It's weird, I mean - you're not special, you're not powerful, you're not connected, you're not clever, you're not important..."
"This friend of yours—has she ever punched you in the face?"
He paused his actions momentarily in real consideration. "No." He told her, "But her mother has slapped me on occasion."
"Stop bleeping me!" She whacks at the hand holding the device. She agrees to continue answering his questions, sans sonic.
Donna tells the Doctor about her job temping at HC Clements and the head of HR, now her fiancé, who had made her coffee six months ago—a bit early, maybe, but they'd had so much in common and she really felt like they'd connected.
She told him that HC Clements dealt in security systems, which she believed was just "a posh name for 'locksmiths;'" ignoring him when he muttered the word 'keys' she concluded, telling him it was time to make their way to the reception.
"Oh, this is gonna be so shaming," She told him. "You can do the explaining, Martian-boy."
"Yeah. I'm not from Mars."
She nods in indulgence, making no further comment about it as he helps her up and they begin their descent from the roof.
"Oh, I had this great big reception all planned. Everyone's gonna be heartbroken."
##############################################################################
The Doctor thought over the last hour of his life as he sat in the back seat of Lance's car on the way to HC Clements:
He pitied Donna greatly. If Rose had disappeared in a puff of golden dust as Donna had her family and friends would have searched frantically for her, beside themselves with fear for her wellbeing. Instead Donna's wedding guests had consoled themselves with the festivities of the wedding reception – minus the bride, as if that little tidbit hardly mattered.
The room had slowly silenced upon their walking into the reception hall; one last dancing couple – the would-be groom and a leggy blonde in a dress fit for clubbing – took just a moment longer than the rest of the congregation to spot the red head in the wedding dress, but eventually they too had gone quiet.
Moreover, instead of concern for her well-being the Doctor only noticed irritation and frustration from all the men and women who had gathered themselves around her to shout out in unison; the group stopped their assault only when Donna broke out into fake tears, then with the show over, her loved one's recommenced their frivolity just as they'd already been doing, plus one 'guest of honor'.
The Doctor found himself deviating from his careful study of the room in favor of thoughts of Rose more than once. This whole day had been a constant reminder of her: the Santa's, Christmas, the rooftop overlooking the estate she'd grown up on, the leggy blonde (Nerys, Donna had called her) casting him obvious glances like Madame de Pompadour had done on the day he'd made the stupidest decision of his life (the one time he had ever hurt Rose on purpose), another blonde being dipped by her partner like Rose looked when she had fallen into his arms on New Earth when Cassandra left her mind.
But the ultimate reminder, the gold dust which had gathered and swirled up around Donna before picking her up and carrying her away – presumably to the TARDIS – were huon particles, which no longer exist – except in the heart of his TARDIS and… dormant, inside Rose.
'Which would explain why the old isn't feeling well.'
And of course the cause of Donna's materialization in the console room was one which couldn't be hid with a bio damper – because wasn't that just his luck?
He'd warned Donna but it had been too late to make an escape; together they'd tried to warn her family, but both had been dismissed – the Doctor as some strange nutter and Donna because as the Doctor had come to realize throughout the reception, the brass woman was entirely used to being ignored and cast aside.
Making quick use of the sound system set up by the DJ the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and switched it to the right setting. Taking the microphone in one head and bringing it to his mouth, his sonic still poised in the other, the Doctor announced in a flare for theatrics indicative of this body. "Oi! Santa! Word of advice: if you're attacking a man with a sonic screwdriver... don't let him near the sound system."
The shrill peel of sound waves being broadcast through a live mic reverberated throughout the room. People stopped and grabbed their ears and the ears of their children, meanwhile the Santa's, trees, and baubles deactivated, falling to the floor with quiet 'thunks' which were lost in the din.
Donna's family had erupted immediately into confusion and agitation. Surprisingly, Donna had remained solely apart from the distress of her family; she checked on the children and roused the adults into doing the same, making sure no one had been seriously hurt in the onslaught.
The Doctor kept his distance from this fretting as he tried to analyze the robots and trace back the signal, explaining to Donna when she attempted to engage his help that there was now more at stake here than a few blown ear drums or twisted ankles.
He'd run outside, Donna on his tail and Lance and her mum on hers, and had located the source of the signal up in the sky for a few seconds, before it had been turned off… 'And that is how I'd landed myself here,' the Doctor thought, pouting at the seat in front of him as he was driven to Donna's place of employment.
He couldn't help thinking, with his knees wedged so tightly in the back that he'd had to pull them into his chest (and still they were pushing up against the seat in front of him), that he would so much rather be with Rose right now.
Instead he thought hopefully ahead to the conclusion of this mystery—to the moment when he could go back to his TARDIS and settle comfortably into the plush grey chair beside Rose's bed, and catch up on his sleep.
To be continued…