Disclaimer: No, the Doctor's still not mine:( I also do not own Torchwood. Or the Tardis. Although I should. Because I could go to the last month, translate all the story and publish it quickly. Or I could go to the future and find some hi-tech brain-straight-to-computer-translator technology which would do all the work. Or I could go on a well-deserved holiday and ask the Tardis to translate the story for me in the meantime... Oh, well, the slow way, then...
.12. Ice and Drugs
Donna lifted her eyelids and blinked surprised at a sight of an anxious face, hovering above her. A woman standing next to Donna's bed gave her a warm smile. Donna knew that face, deep wrinkles in the corners of her mouth, puffy eyes circled with shadows. That face had no right – no right whatsoever – to hover above her with a warm smile.
"Are you awake, sweetheart?" said the woman. "Oh, sorry, I didn't introduce myself."
A leather wallet, opened to show the ID card, appeared next to her face.
"Harriet Jones, Prime Minister."
"Yes, I know who you are," reflectively answered Donna. "I mean... what...?"
"Captain Harkness!" Harriet turned towards the gallery, which surrounded the room, where Donna's bed was placed – no, not the bed, it was actually a narrow hospital couch. Tilled walls were a dusty shade of white, the colour tiles acquire only after many, many years. This place had been created a long time ago, maybe at the turn of the previous century, maybe even earlier. Even before Donna found a sign on the wall, something in her mind spoke with absolute certainty: "Torchwood." The pain behind her eyes grew slightly stronger.
"As long as the sarcophagus is not ready, we have to keep her in the state of coma." A masculine voice, quite pleasant, despite audible aggravation. "Honestly, I see no other option. Every minute, every second may prove to be critical."
"Doses of Amnesia I'm giving her may prove critical as well." Another familiar voice – still girlish, but strong, used to giving orders. "Your Amnesia Pill contained just a few milligrams of an active substance; now we are pumping whole grams into her. The drug has not been tested; side effects may be very dangerous. Please, Jack, we're killing her. What will I tell Wilf if she..."
"Captain Harkness, miss Jones, she's awake," said Harriet, apparently trying to speak louder than the girl.
"What?!"
A man's face appeared in Donna's field of vision; a handsome face, with a chiselled chin and sky-blue eyes. She smiled involuntarily, at the same time however pointing an accusatory finger at Harriet and whispering theatrically:
"She's dead."
"Miss Noble..."
"Oh, no, please – Donna – we don't have to get all official just because I'm dying," she said lightly, turning her head towards a young woman in doctor's coat. "Martha, right? Martha Jones. We've met before... You said you felt as if you were wearing your father's coat, and I said you were so over him, apparently, if you were thinking about him like that..."
She curled on the couch, both hands pressed to her temples.
"Oh, it hurts!" she groaned. "Everything's wrong. The world is cracked. The whole world... cracked..."
"Is it possible that she's talking about the Rift?" whispered somebody at the gallery above.
"No," the man answered dryly. "Anything new?"
"It reminds chitin," answered dark haired woman, leaning over the railing and handing him a sheaf of papers. "The weapon. It's not wood or bone, but chitin. Like an insects' crust."
"Abducted by the beetles," laughed somebody else, at the back.
"It's not funny, Ianto."
"All things considered, no, it's not," admitted a young man, carrying a tray laden with mugs. "Is she awake?"
"What's going on?" asked Donna. She untangled her hands from her thick, auburn hair and sat up with effort. In spite of the pain splitting her skull, or maybe because of the pain, some old part of her broke free, and Donna yelled at the world: "What the hell's happening? Where am I? What is this place? Tell me! What am I doing in Torchwood and WHERE. IS. THE DOCTOR?!"
People gathered around her looked at each other, which seemed quite funny, as those downstairs had to lift their heads to look at the ones on the gallery. For a while all of them seemed to be searching for someone who cleverly hid among them, in the shadows. The Doctor? But who was the Doctor? Donna was sick and needed a medic, but she was sure that the Doctor she had just mentioned was not a physician. The Doctor ran through time and space; rushing like fire swallowing a puddle of spilled petrol; hurrying like wind over the cliffs on a cold, stormy night; like a light of distant stars; and Donna's place was at his side.
Donna's mouth trembled when tears of pain, rising in her eyes, finally spilled over onto her cheeks.
"Please," she said with despair. "Please, help me. Please. Please."
The man standing next to her – Captain Harkness – put his hand on her shoulder.
"We are trying to help you," he said. "But our options are limited."
"What's wrong with me?" she asked. "Except the instantaneous biological metacrisis... Oh!" she groaned again, looking around with her eyes wide open. "So many errors. O, my God, so many errors. So many adaptations. We need him, Jack, he has to fix it, before it is too late... All the worlds cracked... So many paradoxes, all of them seeping... through rifts... through the fissure..."
"Doctor?" said Martha. Jack grabbed her by the elbow and roughly yanked her away from Donna's couch.
"Shut it!" he shouted in a whisper.
"Why?" Martha's lips trembled, but she looked stubbornly into Harkness' eyes. "Can't you see she's remembering? She can remember him. And, so far, she hasn't burned."
"I burn, but I'm not consumed," stated Donna, madness in her voice.
"Like a phoenix," whispered Ianto, setting the tray aside on the step of the stairs.
"Doctor Jones, Captain Harkness." Harriet spread her arms in conciliatory gesture. "Please, what can we do?
Jack turned towards Donna.
"We can hibernate you," he said gently. "Freeze you. Put you in a state of suspended animation. We have technology; Torchwood hibernated people before. Whatever happens to you, whatever it is, we will gain time to find a cure."
"We don't have time," immediately answered Donna. "See, time is not a straight progression of cause to effect, past to future; time is more like a big... ball of... wibbly-wobbly... timey-wimey... stuff... Eerm, not really what I meant. Anyway, we have no time! At all... No, wait, it's not that... Eerm, it's him who doesn't have time. YES! (After the last exclamation Harriet Jones jumped up and pressed her hands to her heart). He doesn't have time! The Doctor!"
"Enough." Harkness turned to Martha. "No point in waiting. No discussion. Give her Amnesia. Now."
"Jack." Donna grabbed him by the hand. Her green eyes shone with tears and pain. "Please. Remember. All is wrong. Too many errors. Remember. You need him, but you can't let him oooooh..."
Without further hesitation Jack lifted her up and held close to his chest. She was trembling in his arms, full of pain and fear, and Jack was utterly petrified with his own helplessness.
"No, enough!" he yelled. "I'm taking her to the Freezer, now!"
"Jack." Martha tried to oppose.
"She won't stand it much longer." He already carried Donna up the stairs, along the gallery, to the central Hub's hall, the one with the crystal column of the water sculpture hiding the Rift Manipulator. "Ianto, wake Wilf, tell him it's now. Martha, prepare the injections. Prime Minister..."
"I won't stand in the way, Captain," said Harriet instantly. "Remember that if needed, I will activate all accessible resources. Torchwood can count on my support. And... Captain...?"
Jack slowed down for a moment, looked back above Donna's head, resting on his chest.
"Please, do find him," finished Harriet Jones.
Harkness just nodded slightly. Donna grabbed his shirt, lifted her head, trying to meet his gaze.
"Everything's gonna be all right," he promised.
"Can you hear?" she whispered, her eyes large, surprised.
"Hear what?"
"TARDIS. Can you hear her?"
"Donna..."
"TARDIS is in the Hub," said Martha, running after Jack. She caught up with him and leaned over Donna. "She's here, in Torchwood. We've found her in Ogmore-by-the-Sea, but the Doctor wasn't there. Just some blood on the threshold. A body of a man. And traces of a substance..."
"Martha, what the hell are you doing?!" Jack jumped back.
"Chitin," helped Gwen. "A substance resembling chitin."
"And traces of chitin. But the Doctor wasn't there. We've brought TARDIS to the Hub, but none of us knows how..."
"Martha, enough!"
"TARDIS?" Donna used both hands to push herself away from Harkness, almost toppling both of them over. Jack had to put her down, but he still had one arm around her shoulders. Donna swayed on her legs. "Is she here? TARDIS? Ooooh!"
She clutched her temples with a scream of pain.
"See what you've done, Martha!" hollered Jack.
"She knows!" Martha yelled back.
"She's sick and you're killing her!"
Donna's elbow hit him below the ribs with such strength, that Jack went pale and for a while was completely breathless. Donna evaded his momentarily limp arm and run towards one of the corridors, towards the song of the Doctor's ship. Moaning and swearing under his breath, Jack broke into a heavy run. He could hear Ianto, Gwen and Martha behind him. He was mad at Martha, but one thing was sure. Donna was running straight towards the room, where they've left the blue box.
He halted behind the arched door, in a dark, large room, lit mostly by sparsely placed spotlights. A powerful ceiling lamp cast a beam of light straight at the TARDIS, cutting out of the darkness her illogical, almost silly costume – wooden walls covered with faded paint; small, opaque windows – bygone era's illusion. Donna stood opposite the ship, in stripy pyjamas Wilf had packed for her when they were leaving Chiswick; with her fiery hair down her shoulders. She was breathing hard after her short run. It seemed that in the darkness there were only two of them – Donna and TARDIS – encircled by the beam of light. It seemed that they were watching each other – a woman and a machine, a mortal creature and a time vortex in the heart of the ship.
Slowly Donna raised her hand, put her thumb and her middle finger together, and snapped them. In silence and darkness, the sound seemed louder than anybody expected, almost magical. For a split second nothing happened, then, suddenly the blue box's door opened with familiar creaking, letting out a wave of warm, amber glow.
"It's impossible," whispered Martha, standing next to Jack. "It can't be."
Without hesitation Donna entered the TARDIS.