Originally written and published on An Archive of Our Own before the end of the sixth series, and probably before 'Let's Kill Hitler', and before we knew what the Doctor by Lake Silencio really was. We had a guess or two-Ganger copy. I went with that guess here. Sort of wrong. Still going to continue with it. Be advised...maybe the Doctor's ganger copy really did survive 'The Almost People'. He may vanish after awhile.

This chapter was originally going to be published on here, but FanFiction was messed up, so I went AAooO...anyway, here is more. Please enjoy.

Chapter 4: Breather

"Why does it always have to be me that saves-why couldn't she be more-" The Doctor groaned to himself as he reached the TARDIS. "Never mind that now! Work it out, Doctor, work it out on your own!" He said, opening the TARDIS door. "Calm yourself down, pull yourself together, and get focused—you need to stick with the plan-whatever the plan is..." He sighed, and hustled himself inside the spaceship.

"First it was the Sycorax, could it be the Sycorax still?" He stopped and asked himself on his way to the console, trying to figure out what was going on here. "No, they wouldn't be something something so foolish if they were still alive..." He sighed, and stared up at the ceiling. "Harriet Jones." He muttered to himself in a curse, shaking his head in disappointment before he continued on to the console, still talking.

"So, Sycorax gone, the Robot Santas still remained. I should have tracked them down." He muttered to himself, pulling some levers and twisting some knobs. "Robot Santas still here on Earth, or somewhere near here, stranded or decided they didn't want to leave. Picked up by someone, or something, that wanted to use them—is this making any sense?" He asked himself as he flicked a switch and ran around to the other side.

"We need thrust, propulsion—how am I ever going to catch that cab if I don't get some movement?" He asked himself as he twisted a crank, winding up some rope he kept handy underneath the console. "Maybe tampering with gravity, that'll stop the weight bearing down on me."

"So, they are being used-to keep track of...me?" He cried as he banged around a bit. "Makes sense—doesn't it?" He sighed and stopped himself a moment. "No, then why did they take Donna away? It was Donna they were after, not me, I was just in the way." He flicked a switch, and the TARDIS started up again. "They wanted to get rid of me after finding Donna, and taking her away. I wasn't a part of their plan—although did they recognize me?" He stopped and shook his head, holding on tight. "No, of course not, they're just robots—programmed to do whatever they're ordered to do, nothing more." He said, nodding as the TARDIS took off.

He ran around once they were up in the air. "Fish in a pond, pilot fish, that's all they are, feeding off the specks left on sharks' skins after a frenzy." He smiled as he pulled the screen around. "Speaking of frenzy-I must have wasted over a million pounds just then, with all of those humans jumping about." He checked the data. "Too much money wasted, really, I could have used some of that money myself in the 21st century, before they stopped producing all of those bank notes—then I wouldn't have to ask to borrow money all of the time." He sighed as he spotted Donna on the screen. "I am not a thief—not really-I should be glad I didn't take any of that money."

"Highway-midday-I am bound to get spotted for sure," The Doctor muttered to himself as the TARDIS started exploding around him. "Come on, old girl, you can do it!" He cried, banging around. "I've seen you do tougher stuff before—this is nothing compared to traveling through E-Space-" The TARDIS banged down on the roadway-"Or that White Void, which the Master of the Land controlled-methinks, though there was the Master Brain within that Land of Fiction-" The TARDIS had lifted up again, navigating its way through the lanes of cars.

"And you've been through The Void—into a parallel universe! You can do it!" He cried again, and then sighed as he started tearing up a bit of twine in his teeth. "All of this for a woman I don't even know-for a woman I don't even like very well-" He tied back the main lever. "She is one of the most loud-mouthed, rude women I have ever met, and believe me, I have only ever met one or two women worse than her!" He cried before going towards the TARDIS doors.

"Santa's a robot!" Donna said after yelling at each other about the door.

"I know!" The Doctor cried. "It's ridiculous! Now, you've got to jump!"

Donna sputtered about getting married, and he yelled, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm not supposed to be doing this!" Donna cried. "I'm not supposed to be—kidnapped by a robot on my wedding day, chased around town by a magic flying floating telephone box, and I'm definitely not supposed to be with you!" The car sped up before he got a chance to reply, and he chased after it, pulling hard on the lever with more sparks flying—the TARDIS was going to hate him for this.

What did she mean she wasn't supposed to be with him? Certainly she wasn't supposed to be with him, but they were in this together now, weren't they? He thought to himself as he got the TARDIS higher up off of the ground; she was with him, and he had to protect her, right? Right.

He knew that they were being seen; all of these people driving along couldn't miss him and his 'flying blue box'-no matter what sort of perception filters he had. They were banging on car roofs, for goodness sake! And if at least one of them had a camera in their phone—goodbye, secrecy; he should have done something to cloak the TARDIS better before doing this. He was being banged about as well, and was afraid of falling out of his own TARDIS, but he knew he was safe when he pulled himself up, and held himself steady by the TARDIS door. He wasn't about to fall out now, now that they had so much to do together.

"I know it's hard, but you've got to jump!" He said before trying to disable the robot.

"I'm in my wedding dress!" She cried a moment later; what was this? Was he in a dream, or a nightmare? "Yes! You look lovely! Come on!" He shouted. "I'm not getting paid to do this," He muttered to himself.

He held out his hands to her, and she hesitated, of course, before he said, "Trust me." He meant it. He wanted her to believe in him as he wanted to save her.

"Is that what you said to her? Your friend." Donna said. "The one you lost. Did she trust you?"

The Doctor hesitated, looking at her as he wondered—of course she would have thought—if he had not answered…what could he say to her? What could he say to her about the one he had lost, the one who had meant everything to him for a short while?

"Yes she did, and she is not dead, she is so alive, now jump!" He said. Donna was alive—Rose was alive; it had to be enough, it had to be—and it was. Donna took him at his word, and jumped into his arms—not very gracefully, mind you, and screaming, always screaming she was, as he fell backward into the TARDIS and she on top of him.

She was very heavy, pressing down on him, and he felt the air being choked out of him as he tried not to scream himself. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't cry—it was all very overwhelming, thinking about Rose and being reminded of her by—this woman who had caused so much trouble. Finally, he got up and the TARDIS doors closed as the TARDIS took off into the air.

"That was amazing!" She said. "That—was-" She slapped him.

"Ow! What was that for?" He asked.

"For giving me the biggest scare of my life!" She cried. "If you could have—piloted this thing closer-"

"It's not exactly-" He sighed. "It's not exactly the most efficient of vehicles-"

An alarm went off, and a fire ignited on the console. "A-wah-ah!" She cried like the siren. "What is that? What is—that thing doing?"

"It's not supposed to be—flying like this!" He said, shielding his eyes from the fire. "The TARDIS is supposed to go from Point A to Point B without being in actual space!"

"What?" She said.

"It doesn't move like a regular spaceship or vehicle does." He said, running to grab the fire extinguisher. "It doesn't deal well with friction or gravity or inertia-" Something snapped on the console. "It doesn't fly like a rocket! Not normally!" He said, removing the pin and starting to spray the console.

"Then—why did you-" She stared at him. "You saved my life. You came—you rescued me—you went all of this way, you flew, just to—why?" She asked.

"Why?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"You're not exactly the best type of man I would have expected to do a thing like this, and I haven't exactly been Little Miss Sunshine to you over here, have I?"

"No, I suppose not, I-" He laughed at the thought of this. "I'm not the best type of man? I don't—I don't know!" He cried. "I don't know why I'm doing this, but I just thought—I'm somehow responsible for this! For you-"

"And just what do you mean by that, Mister-Tighty-Whitey pants?" Donna said, eying him. What was she thinking?

"I'm not—I'm not actually responsible for this, for you getting into my TARDIS and getting kidnapped by a Robot Santa, but they're after you, and I want to know why, and I want to stop them from finding you and using you-for whatever purpose! Because they are using you, I know; I know this is not normal. This is not natural. Something is wrong here."

"Something is wrong here is right." Donna said, shaking her head. "Too bloody right. I don't care for this anymore than you do—much less than you do—and I want to get out of this! But you're sticking around, and I-"

"We've got to land, the TARDIS can't take much more of this!" The Doctor said.

Donna Noble consulted her watch-the watch her grandfather had given her this morning, just before she left to go get married, the watch her grandmother had worn; it was 3:30. Way too late for the wedding. She sighed to herself, wishing she could have changed things as she looked out across the rooftop of this tall building they had landed upon while the Doctor put out the fire. She couldn't believe it.

They were on top of this building, looking out across Central London—she could barely see Chiswick from up here. There were so many buildings, so many people, and—she was alone on top of it all; with just the Doctor, and his smoking—'Tardis', or whatever that thing was called. She was getting used to that name.

St. Paul's Cathedral, and all of the other landmarks—she had driven past some of them on her way to work at H.C. Clements (Or else had gone under them on the Underground). Down on street level, she had been dwarfed by everything that towered over her, and yet she was used to it, going along her way with everybody else-just another part of the crowd, one Londoner amongst so many. She wondered if she would ever be the same now.

Lance was waiting for her. So was her mum and dad, and everybody else, but for the moment, she was alone with the Doctor, and her thoughts; she wanted to be back home. She wanted to be at the wedding, but more than that, she wanted to go home. The wedding wasn't going to happen today, might as well try again some other day, when she wasn't in so much trouble.

She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, really-things just weren't the same. She thought they would be, but—this was just the beginning, wasn't it? She thought she was leaving it all behind her, him and that thing of his when she was riding away in the cab, but—it was just another start to this hare-brained adventure. She thought that she could do it, just forget him and get married as quickly as possible, but it was too late—she couldn't forget him. She had been saved by him.

What sort of man was he? Pardon, what sort of Martian—or whatever—was he? A good one? She hoped he was good; she hoped he meant what he said about helping her, or whatever—finding out what was going on here. She wanted to find out, but more than that, she—wanted an end to this.

"Sorry." He said.

"It's not your fault." She said.

"Oh—that's a change." He said, smiling weakly. She wanted him to feel better; she hoped she hadn't been too hard on him, before. She had a way of doing that, being hard on others when she had enough of dealing with trouble. She had faced a lot of trouble and aggravation in her time; she had had enough of it, and a very short temper to come out of it. At least she got something out of it, though.

He babbled something about timelines, when she thought out-loud about 'time machine', but she decided to say nothing about it—if there was any truth to what he said…no, she didn't want to risk it; she didn't want to erase anything about what had happened. Even if it was bad, at least she loved it—in some way.

They sat down on the edge of the rooftop, and he wrapped his coat about her—very gentlemanly of him, really; she wasn't used to such special treatment, even from Lance. The Doctor had some manners, when he wasn't being too condescending and rude, obnoxious about—oh, who was she kidding? She had some bad habits as well.

She complained about the coat because she didn't want to compliment the measure, thinking to herself that if she took no notice, or too little notice, he wouldn't think much about it. She got scared when he presented her with a ring, thinking he had gone too far in the gentleman manner—or was being rude—but then he had some excuse; he always had some excuse.

They talked about the Robot Santas, and she learned a little bit more—about what they were, and what sort of experience the Doctor had—was this something he dealt with? That spaceship over London? Did he have—some personal experience…he skimmed right over it when she came up with some lame excuse for missing it, but—she had been there; she had seen it.

She knew all about it but what had come abroad, and what had happened up there; was the Doctor up there? Then she had missed him.

The Doctor was dealing with this, but it was a hassle—his TARDIS almost blowing up and burning up was going to cause a lot more trouble for him later on, he could tell. But at least they were out of danger, for the moment, and enjoying a breath of fresh air—or as much fresh air as you could get high above London where the air pollution had been reduced in recent years, but not by much.

He could remember seeing London being constructed the first couple of times as Queen Boudica had burned it to the ground, then the Vikings came, and then the Great Fire—London had been reconstructed many times in the past. And all the while, it had not grown much, but now—now he could barely see the River Thames from up here in the heart of Central London, not too far away from St. Paul's Cathedral, as there were so many buildings in the way; he could not see the true blood-flow of London.

He was trying to reason with her, but she was being reasonable enough, something that surprised him a little as he was still coping with the upset she had given him. He felt like crying a little, thinking about that. He didn't know quite how to deal with her odd remark about 'the time machine'—he had to flub his way around that a little bit, just to feel like he wasn't lying to her; he couldn't go back and change things, no matter how much he wished he could. He swallowed, watching her settle down, and he settled down next to her—deciding he would enjoy this moment of calm as long as he could.

She was a bit rude to him about the coat, but that didn't bother him too much now as she was like that, and he was getting used to it; he just had to deal with it for now. He played around a bit, thinking it would lighten the mood, and she played along with him, too; he smiled at that, thinking he could see them getting along quite a bit. If worse came to worse, and they were stuck together, he could probably get her to come along with him and loosen up a bit more, maybe have some fun and enjoy the adventure—she was already questioning him about what had just happened, wanting to find out more about those Robot Santas.

He replied, and-it veered off into uncomfortable territory; he had to think about last year, and—all of the fun he had, all of the people-gone now, and it just wasn't the same. He wasn't the same anymore, and—he had to face that; he had to face being alone. He couldn't deal with that, and would not answer Donna's question about Rose, as instead he went back to her and the problems they had as these were the things he wanted to deal with now.

She seemed a bit miffed about something, but he would not acknowledge that; instead, he examined her, and categorized her as she complained about his labels, and demanded that he stop 'bleeping' her as "his friend might have punched him in the face" according to her own words. The Doctor, shocked, almost wished that he could have punched Donna right now.

She told him about her work and life, and he got to know her, thinking that she wasn't so bad, just another ordinary human creating her own tales, and experiencing things he never would have; he never would have met a woman over coffee. He was wondering if things were normal here, if things between Lance and Donna were perhaps too 'special' to be believed.

A story like that couldn't just develop all of a sudden, and if a story like that was true—she had her own details about what had happened, but he couldn't just believe it, not in the way she described it. Yet he couldn't call her out on that, thinking he had to go through with all of this.

'Keys' he thought to himself, keys had to open many things, hide many secrets, and for Donna to get involved—something had to be hidden here, and he was going to find out just what. "I'm not from Mars." He told her again as they had to get up, and be on their way—Donna told him about the reception, and they decided to check in there first to see if any of the guests were still around, and had anything to say about what had happened at the wedding that never took place.

The 'doctor' stood on the helipad, looking about-last time he had seen the rooftops of London, the sun had been replaced by his exploding Tardis. And the Tardis had flown over London soon after he had regenerated—changing its exterior a little bit, and changing its interior even more. He had to get used to this place; apparently he spent a lot of time here.

"Do you remember that place?" The companion asked, pointing in the direction where it was.

The 'doctor' nodded. "I had to go through it a couple of times, getting things right." He said. "Mind you—it was a close call."

The companion nodded. "I remember. Come along—doctor. We have to get you right."

He sighed. "Must you insist on—I'm fine." He said. "I just need a bit of a breather."

Here you go. More to come soon.