And as I looked up into those eyes His vision borrows mine
Donna Noble, script editor.
That's what she is. That's what her nameplate says. Her job is to read scripts and evaluate them, decide if they're good enough to consider. She reads scripts they're working on, works to keep continuity straight, so a character isn't doing something he shouldn't be doing from one scene to the next. She types up her findings and opinions. She's good at that, typing things up.
One hundred words a minute, thank you very much.
Donna loves her job. She went from a temp spot to her current position in five months flat. Sam Lively himself hired her on. She's loved every minute of it.
At least, she'd loved it until Sam Lively up and disappeared.
The movie director who'd hit it big with science-fiction movies. Donna is in charge of scripts, but she knows that Sam is the one who dictates the stories to screenwriters and makes sure the plots follow his ideas. He's made the studio what it is, and he's earned his position and his millions and all those funny little Spock trophies he's so proud of.
And now he's gone. He's traveled before, of course, for business, for pleasure, to scout out locations or meet new talent. But he's never just disappeared before. He didn't tell anyone where he was going. His office is untouched. His flat is empty and his car sits in the studio's parking lot.
His partner Clive, who helped him build the business, is gone, too. Poof, just gone.
In fact, as Donna slowly makes a few phone calls, it appears that many more people have just gone poof. Other studio heads, movie executives and television producers, are all gone, according to their secretaries and assistants. Sometimes there's no secretary or assistant, either, and Donna is left leaving a voicemail to someone who's never heard of her.
Over half of Sam's address book, business contacts and associates, over half of those people can't be reached. The other half seems to be calling all the time, demanding to talk to Sam or to Clive. As Donna walks through Sam Lively Productions, she finally notices what she's been refusing to notice before.
People are gone. Makeup, costume, special effects, people are missing from every department.
It's only when that absurd scientist comes by, asking her questions about Sam that Donna is forced to admit that there is a problem, and if she doesn't do something about it very soon she may not have a job.
She watches John Smith walk out, completely annoyed with him and his attitude. Picking up the phone, she dials Derek's number.
And waits.
And waits.
"Derek," she says angrily when his voicemail switches on, "I don't know where you are, but you'd better get here now. Things are in trouble, and we need to do something."
She hangs up, not at all satisfied. Drumming her fingers on the desk, she picks up the phone again, this time dialing Derek's flat.
"I know you're there," she says when the voicemail at his flat switches on. "And if you don't pick up the phone and start talking to me I'm coming by with three armed security guards and I'm gonna break down your door and-"
Derek's voice comes on the line. "Donna."
"Yeah, it's Donna! Where the hell are you? I've got strange people coming round asking where Sam and Clive are, and I don't know. Where are they?"
"I don't know."
"You're Sam's assistant! You know everything."
"I swear to you, Donna, I don't know where he is. Not this time." Derek's voice is hushed. "Listen, I'm not coming in for a few days, okay? You can keep things going for me, yeah?"
"Don't you dare," Donna says murderously. "Don't you dare do this to me! There's no one here! They're all gone and I don't know why, and I'm not going to be left here when the studio heads finally figure out that Sam is missing!"
"Sorry, Donna," Derek says hastily. There are loud crashing sounds from the background. "Don't call me again. The phone's turning off and I'm going away. See you soon!"
"No, Derek!" But she's speaking to a dial tone. Donna hangs up and holds her head in her hands.
oOoOo
Things had been going so well for her for a while, she muses on the drive home that night. The darkness that had been threatening the world is gone. Earth is safe and life is back to normal. Right after that happened she'd felt an astonishing sense of freedom, like she'd finally found her purpose in life. She'd used that sense of freedom to move out of her mother's place. Much as she loved her mum, Sylvia was suffocating her with complaints and criticisms. Donna had listened to that all of her life, but she'd finally taken a stand.
It was hard to be away from her granddad, but being free of Sylvia was heavenly.
Walking into her flat and locking the door behind her, Donna steps out of her shoes and collapses onto the couch.
"Let's review," she says out loud. "Two missing bosses, one missing assistant, support staff gone left, right and center. This is not good."
If the studio folds she won't have a job. If she can't find another job she'll lose her flat. If she loses her flat...
"I'm not going back home," she says to no one at all.
Donna changes out of her suit - wool and silk blend with a lovely hot pink satin lining - and into a track suit. She pulls her hair up into a ponytail and eats a solitary dinner of pasta and salad. There are three messages waiting for her, from three different men, but she's not in the mood for company.
As she sips from her glass of water, she runs through that last conversation with John Smith. A stranger man she's never met, that's for sure. He admits that Sam is missing and that he's working on it, but he won't tell her anything else. Who is he working for? Why does he seem so familiar?
Where the hell is Sam?
Donna leaves her dinner on the table and turns her computer on.
She types "John Smith" into the search engine and waits.
59,400,000 results.
She looks at the number for a moment and types "Dr." in front of the name.
55,200,000 results.
She narrows the field even more by looking for those Dr. John Smiths in the science field.
And in London.
Still far, far too many John Smiths out there.
"They can't all be their real names," Donna mutters. She keeps at it, searching through each profile, all the while wondering why he seemed so familiar to her.
The phone rings once, and she lets the machine get it.
"It's David," the voice says. "Fancy going out for a drink tomorrow? Call me?"
Donna keeps searching. She's not been short of male company for a long time, but the death of her fiance still haunts her. She'd loved him, and to know that he'd been killed in the most brutal way imaginable is hard to overcome. She's not still in mourning or anything. She doesn't try her wedding gown on when she's lone. In fact, she sold her wedding dress back to Chez Allison when it was clear she wouldn't be needing it.
It's just hard to imagine letting herself love someone again.
Two hours later she is no closer to finding out anything than she was last week. There are just too many John Smiths out there, too many scientists to go through. Tomorrow looms before her, a day where no one is at work and she has no answers. How long before she loses her job?
She's about to give up and go watch television when she stumbles onto a website at London University. The heading is about a new theory of astronomical research that is making waves. It's clear from the article that this is something that made news in the scientific communities and nowhere else. She's never heard of it.
What catches her eye is a photo of someone called Dr. Knowles. He works at London University, and it's his website she's on. In the background of Dr. Knowles' picture is a large group of people. Also someone who looks very much like Dr. John Smith. Donna squints at it, trying to enlarge the image on her screen. It's him, all right, but there's no mention of who he is or what he's doing there.
Maybe he really is a scientist.
A scientist looking for a missing person, though?
Donna frowns thoughtfully at the picture.
oOoOo
The next day is sheer hell. Mary Beth the receptionist quits after a morning full of angry phone callers and even angrier visitors.
"Everyone wants to know where Mr. Lively is!" she rages to Donna. "And I don't bloody well know, do I? But no one believes me! I've never been spoken to like this in my life!"
Donna watches her go, another rat leaving the sinking ship.
With the employee roster in hand, swiped from the human resources office - Doug, head of personnel, also gone in a puff of smoke - she carefully goes down the list, checking off names of people who haven't come to work.
There are quite a lot.
The studio is deserted today. No one has come in for meetings, for run-throughs, to discuss how to film the movie that's the current project. Donna tamps down the panic that is going to make her hyperventilate and starts calling people.
Two and a half hours later, she hangs up her office phone for the last time and fights back tears. Not one of her coworkers is available. They're all just gone. Gone like Sam and Clive and Derek and Doug. "And Alice, Michelle, Julie and Tom," she adds to herself.
Maybe Dr. John Smith isn't quite a lunatic after all. He may be a pretentious, secretive git, but he may have been right about Sam.
"Okay," Donna says to herself, sitting in the small, lovely office that she adores. "We just need to find out what's going on. Find out and find Sam and fix things before anyone else finds out what's happened. Yes." Clasping her hands together, she looks around her office. Sam let her choose the color for the walls, and she had them painted a pretty yellow. She's had a good time here at the studio, and she loves her job. She loves Sam - that is, she loves working for Sam - and she has good friends here.
Friends who are now missing.
Donna stands up and squares her shoulders. Carrying the roster with her, she goes walking through the building. Two people in the makeup department, when there are usually fourteen. No one in special effects. Human resources is dark and deserted. To her great surprise, the accounting offices are up and running.
"Lee?" Donna says in surprise, halting inside the office, "what are you doing?"
Lee looks up from his calculator. "I'm running the numbers for this latest film. Sam doesn't want to go over budget."
"Yes," Donna says, nonplussed, "but Sam's gone."
"Is he? I hope he remembers his expense receipts the last time, I don't care if he is the boss."
"Haven't you noticed that everyone's gone?" Donna demands, waving the bright yellow roster in her hand around.
Vanessa looks up from her desk. "They're on location."
"They're on location?" Donna repeats, with such disbelief and amazement in her voice that they both look at her in puzzlement.
"They're filming the new movie," Lee says, picking up a sheet of paper from a tray on his desk. "They've been there since last week."
"They went on location one day!" Donna says furiously. "One day! And then they all went home and then no one came in to work the next day. And this was all after Sam went missing."
Lee and Vanessa exchange a glance. "Sam's missing?" Lee says.
"Do you lot ever pay attention to what's going on?" Donna demands.
"We're usually pretty busy in here," Vanessa says. "they haven't hired that third person we need yet."
Donna turns on her heel and strides down the hallway. "Idiots," she mutters. "Why couldn't they have gone missing?"
Phones are ringing, of course. She heads to the reception desk to check the messages when she catches sight of someone walking toward the front door. Her heart stops. Literally, just like that, stops beating.
Coming to the door, dressed in an expensive suit and expensive wool coat, accompanied by several, equally - expensively dressed men, is Mason Tate. The executive head of Lightvision Studios. The parent company of Sam Lively Productions.
"Oh, no," Donna whispers. She considers dropping behind the desk and hiding, but one of Tate's companions is already opening the door for him. Donna's heart starts beating again, a quick tattoo that she can't hear anything over. "Oh, no," she whispers again.
Mason Tate strides in, a handsome man in his sixties. He made his name in Hollywood, then returned home to London to open the largest movie studio in England. He gave Sam his first big break and was responsible for helping him transition to his own production company.
He never comes by. Ever. Donna just can't believe her bad luck here.
Mason Tate looks around, a slight frown on his face. Donna forces herself to stand up straight and smile.
"Good morning," she says. Her voice comes out as more of a squeak, but she clears her throat and keeps smiling.
"Where's Sam?" Mason Tate asks, and Donna's heart sinks to somewhere around her stomach.
"Mr. Lively is on location," she says brightly.
"He's not answering my calls."
"Well, he's on location. Maybe the mobile reception isn't working."
"I can't reach Clive, either."
Oh, damn. "I think Clive went with them. On location."
"His assistant said that Clive wasn't due to go on location," one of the men with Mason says.
Donna's heart lurches back into her chest cavity and starts to beat rapidly again. Surely one human heart shouldn't be capable of all this moving about?
"His assistant?" she says. "You talked to his assistant?" She's been trying to reach that assistant all day. "When?"
"Last night. She said Clive wasn't on location but was unavailable."
"I don't know, Mr. Tate," Donna says finally, turning back to who is her ultimate boss. "I can't reach Cindy myself. She's not here today."
"It looks like a lot of people aren't here today." Mason Tate levels a long look at her. "Tell Sam to call me the minute he gets in."
"Yes. Yes, sir, I will." Donna stays frozen in place until the men leave. Then she slams the door shut and draws the blinds on all the windows. Rushing to the the reception computer, she hastily types up a sign that says "Closed for extermination." Looking online, she copies and pasts a logo from one of the local pest control companies, prints out the paper, and tapes it to the studio door beneath the blinds.
Picking up the house intercom, she clears her throat and pushes the "on" button.
"Attention employees. There has been a sighting of Venusian spiders in the studio. We've been advised to shut down until the problem can be resolved. Please pack up and leave by the front door immediately. We will call you at home when the studio is open again."
She puts the microphone down and waits. Within twenty minutes, everyone who'd been in the building with her has filed past, in various stages of panic. She locks the door behind them all and leans against it. As she'd suspected, the people still here have no idea who or what Venusians are. They clearly pay no attention to the movies that pay them.
"Right, Donna," she tells herself. "Let's go."
At home she changes out of her business suit and into jeans and a nice turtleneck. She puts her hair up again, out of the way, and makes a sandwich to eat while at the computer.
Using the information she found last night, she goes back to the website of Dr. Knowles at London University. She ponders his information as she chews her turkey and cheese sandwich. Right now this is her only link to Dr. John Smith. If anything is clear to her right now, it's that she needs this John Smith and his help.
oOoOo
London University is far more open than a movie studio. No one stops her when she parks or demands to see her identification. She strolls along as if she belongs there. Locating the science buildings, she consults the campus directory she printed off the computer. Walking along the hallways, trying to avoid the crush of students going from one class to another, she finds the office she's looking for.
Knocking on the door, she waits but there's no response. Easing it open, she slips inside and then closes it behind her. Leaving the lights off, she can see that there's plenty of light from the open windows. She finds a class schedule on the desk, and is relieved to see that Dr. Knowles is lecturing for another hour and a half.
"Can I help you?"
Donna whirls around. A young man is standing at the doorway.
"Oh! Hello!"
"What are you doing in the Dr. Knowles' office?"
"I'm looking for him."
"He's in a lecture right now."
"Oh. Yes. Of course." Donna nods frantically. "I had a question about...about the last assignment he gave in class."
He narrows his eyes at her. "I'm his teaching assistant. Which class are you in?"
Oh, for the love of..."I'm auditing the class," Donna says through clenched teeth. "I'll ask him later." She pushes past him and heads out.
Sadly, that's all she finds out. There was nothing hanging around that points to any knowledge of John Smith. Donna is forced to admit defeat, her only lead to John Smith vanished before her eyes.
She broods about this all day, through a few hours of shopping and Chinese takeaway eaten at her kitchen table. She's not going in to work tomorrow - until she knows what's happening she's not going to sit in an empty building and answer questions she can't answer. Hopefully the spiders will keep people away for a day or two.
She's almost tempted to ring up one of the men who are always after her for a date, but it wouldn't be fair to them in her current state. All she can focus on is Sam. Sam and the rest of her coworkers are gone, and the only person who might know what's happened is nowhere to be found.
She goes home and tries to sleep, manages to actually sleep for a while. And then she's up again at 4:30 in the morning, wide-awake. Unable to lie in bed, she takes a shower and gets dressed. Debating the clothes, she tries to choose between jeans and work clothes. She's not going in to work, so clearly jeans are in order. But what if she does go into work? What if Sam comes back or Mason Tate comes looking for her?
"Oh, sod it," she mutters, and puts on jeans and a sweater.
To keep from jumping out of her skin, Donna takes a drive. She drives herself back on the campus of London University. She takes another entrance in, near the planetarium. This takes her closer to the science buildings, and she slowly cruises by on the off chance that she might see Dr. Knowles on his way in to his office. Maybe she can park and wait for him to show up for his first class.
Instead, she gets the surprise of her life. Coming out of the science building, hurrying along so quickly he's almost running, is John Smith.
Donna blinks and looks again. It's him, it's definitely him. Windblown brown hair and skinny build, in jeans and a t-shirt and sweater, running over to a dark car. Donna glances at her watch. It's only 5:30. What's he doing?
She drives around the parking lot until she finds him, getting into the dark car. He's talking a mile a minute on a mobile phone, hands gesturing wildly. He pulls out of his parking space and races out of the lot.
It takes Donna all of two and a half seconds to decide to follow him.
The dark car races down streets that are all but empty of traffic at this time of day. Not only can't Donna believe the man is out so early, she can't believe she's wasted most of the day and night away herself.
"I've got to get better at time management," she mutters.
John Smith's car starts to slow down. She keeps several car lengths back - she's watched enough crime drama on tv to know that much - and slows down as well. She's so focused on the car in front of her that she doesn't see what rolls under her own car, but she does hear the thump.
"Oh no!" she cries in dismay. Checking the rearview mirror, she sees a small pale ball roll away. "I didn't see that," she says to herself, and is jerked back to the road by another thump. "What on earth was that?"
The thumps keep coming. Somewhat to Donna's bewilderment, there are little balls all over the street, like a child's toy store has just let loose all its inventory.
Only...it appears that these little balls are moving. On feet.
"Oh...my..." Donna's mouth hangs open. Ahead of her, John Smith has stopped his car and is getting out, looking around the ground. Donna gives up. This is not the time for stealth. She parks her car and steps out, keeping a wary eye on the ground.
"Oi!" she calls. "Dr. Smith!"
He whirls around with a jerk and his eyes widen in horror. "Donna?"
"What is this stuff?" she demands, walking to him. She kicks a few of the balls on the way, and she's almost reached him when she finally looks down. To her horror, those little balls with feet also have arms and heads. And little bitty faces. She screams and jumps the rest of the way over to him, clutching his arm.
"What the bleeding hell are those things?" she demands, looking around. Little bits of pale things, they are, all walking in the same direction. All walking over to the building they're parked in front of.
John Smith is still staring at her, his mouth hanging open. "What are you doing here?" he asks.
"They're walking," she says. "Little creatures, walking down the street. I think I killed a few of them."
"How did you find me?" he asks her.
She slaps his arm. "I followed you, you idiot! You were right - Sam's missing and Clive's missing and everyone in the world has gone missing at that studio but me, and I know you know more than you're telling me."
"You followed me," he repeats.
"Yes, I followed you. I was at the University. Now are you gonna tell me what these things are?"
He jerks his attention back to the street. Little bits of blob are still walking.
"They're called Adipose," he says slowly. "At least, they used to be called so. I think they're heading into that building."
"Hang on. Adipose. Like...like fat?"
"Exactly like fat. Come on."
"Where are we going?" she asks.
"Come on, Donna."
She follows him - what else can she do? She keeps her eyes on the ground, trying to avoid those little Adipose-y things. As they head to wherever he's heading, he keeps up a stream of conversation.
"What are the odds that this would happen here? I mean, yes, it happened there, but to have it happen here, too? And here you are, just popped right in."
"Popped right in where?" Donna asks. "I followed you."
"Yeah, why did you follow me?" He stops in the street to look at her.
"I followed you to ask what you meant last time you came to my office!" she says. "And now there are little people walking around here."
"Well, technically they're not people, they're bits of fat," he says.
"Whatever. Where'd they come from? Where are they going?"
He grins at her and grabs her hand. "Come on!"
She feels a spark as he touches her hand, just like the last time. Looking into his eyes she feels oddly off balance, like there is something there she ought to know but doesn't. Donna allows him to pull her along.
"Come on, come on come on! Ah! Here we are." He pulls them to a halt at the back of the building.
There's a light shining that has nothing to do with street lamps.
"That's a spaceship up there," Donna says, appalled. "A spaceship. Is this an invasion?"
"No invasion this time. Just some offspring trying to get home. Come on! Damage control."
"Where?" she asks.
"Up." He wrenches open the back door and runs up the stairs. Donna has no choice but to follow him.
"There's a lift, you know," she pants after they pass the seventh floor.
"Hurry!" He bolts up the stairs, his long legs covering the ground much faster than she can.
Once on the roof he bursts out of the exit door. "No!"
Donna finally catches up, gasping for breath. "What is it? What's happened?" She looks all around and sees nothing. Hanging to the edge of the roof, she carefully peers over the edge. "The little fats are all gone. Where'd they go?"
"They left. In the spaceship." John Smith points up. Donna looks up into the sky, where a spaceship is slowly disappearing through the clouds. She says the first thing that pops into her head.
"My granddad will love it."
"Is he still watching the stars?"
"Oh, yeah, he'll never -" Donna stops and turns around. "How do you know he watches the stars?"
John Smith shrugs, an expression of exaggerated innocence on his face. "I just assumed he was a stargazer. Since the spaceship is up here. In the stars."
She narrows her eyes. "No," she says slowly. "That's not it."
"We've never met before," he says seriously. "Your granddad and me."
There is so much she wants to ask him. Donna settles for the most obvious. "What were those things? Where'd they go?"
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking up into the sky. "They were the offspring of a planet who lost their breeding grounds. They were bred here, secretly and against the law. At least, I assume so. Maybe the Shadow Proclamation doesn't have the same reach here. Either way, they were bred here on Earth. We just watched them head home."
"Who bred them?"
"I could guess, but you never know," he says. '"They're long gone now, one way or another."
"Aliens," she says again. "I knew about the Cybermen, of course. Everyone did. And you hear rumors all the time about Torchwood. But I never thought that aliens were here, all around us." She looks at him, waits for him to tell her that she's daft, that of course aliens aren't all around them.
He doesn't. He only stands there, staring at her with a lost expression on his face. Once again she has the unsettling feeling that he knows more than he's telling her.
It's a warm night. The moonlight hits the roof where they're still standing. A breeze brushes her face and ruffles his hair. She's just watched alien babies fly away in a spaceship, and he's acting like it's perfectly normal.
Donna feels her world tilting slowly off its axis, away from her ordered reality and into something she didn't know existed until now.
"Who are you?" she whispers.
He holds out his hand to her. "Come with me," he says.