A/N: Sorry for not updating, again. I love writing this story and I love the characters I just hope that you do too and if you have any prompts or anything that you'd like me to add into the story then go ahead and tell me I'm open! Thank you to everyone so far who has reviewed/followed/favourite etc, please keep doing so! Enjoy :)

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Absolutely not."

There was a long pause.

"Yes, you are."

"I'm genuinely not."

"We can't just go up to an alien and tell him to take us to the Titanic."

"Yes, you can."

"Me? It's not me who wants to do it! If anyone should stride up to an alien, it's you."

"You've known him the longest."

"I don't know him, Ernest. We're... casual acquaintances."

"Somehow I don't believe you."

"Why ever not?"

"I can see your dimpy-dimples!"

"Oh my goodness shut up."

"The sunshine is appearing!"

"Ernest. Shut up right now or I'll slap you."

"Never."

The sound of a hand hitting a boy's face with considerable force could be heard over the sound system and the unmistakeable sound of a Time Lord giggling could be heard echoing around the main console room.

"Doctor, don't laugh!" Donna whispered. "They might hear you."

"They can't," he answered. "I created a spherical enclosure to encircle them that not only prevents our sound from reaching them, but ensures that their sound reaches us. Clever, eh?"

"You made a space bubble," Donna said, evidently unimpressed.

"I wouldn't say that, it's more of a-"

"A bubble, Doctor."

The Doctor's face fell and he stuck out his bottom lip in a childish pout, lowering his chocolate brown eyes in a manner that mirrored his actions nearly a thousand years ago when he was actually a child.

"Oh, don't give me that," Donna said, rolling her eyes. "Back to the plan. Wakey wakey!"

"Oh. Right. Yes. The plan." The Doctor snapped back to his usual, energetic self, a puppy dog eagerly waiting to fetch his next stick, or to happily play.

"Yeah. So, how are we going to get them together?"

"We'll have to take them to the Titanic. It's the only way to keep them happy and under our control. Once there we can utilise the time to send them on romantic walks and the like. However, this isn't going to be Pompeii again, Donna. We're not interfering and we're not saving anyone, understand?"

Donna stared at him with a sorrowful look in her eyes, a small line appearing between her eyebrows.

"Donna, do you realise that saving one person that might have died could change history forever? We have to think things through properly before making irrational decisions. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Donna chanted as she saluted him mockingly. The Doctor went back to the control panel and began to flick some switches and spin some dials.

After a while of silence, Donna caught his eyes and grinned cheekily. "Is it just me or do you ship them just a tiny little bit?" she said, then slapped her hand to her mouth in surprise. "I sound like a stupid fan girl! Why did I say that?"

"What's a fan girl?" the Doctor asked, a confused look spreading across his face.

"Fan girl," a voice spoke out. Freya stepped into the orange glow of the machine with a couple of confident strides, her hands place comfortably behind her back. Ernest followed behind her, ruffling his shaggy blond hair. "A female, usually 12-17 years old but ages may vary, who is obsessed with some sort of thing in the media. They may just be happy and/excited to see their favourite show on TV or they may scream 'sign my chest' to a celebrity. There are in-betweens."

"Oh brilliant! That's fantastic," the Doctor said, beaming childishly. Donna raised her eyebrows questioningly. "No, really. So much culture and variation in the human race and there are people who are genuinely passionate about it. I love it! I'd like to be a fan girl; I'd make a very good fan girl."

Freya smiled to herself as she had once been a fan girl of Leonardo DiCaprio's but had to cease following him when she started university. Ernest had never understood her obsession over fictional characters and the way that she always spoke in-depth about the inner-most workings of her favourite movie or TV show. But the Doctor understood! However, back to the plan.

"Doctor, we've decided where we might like to go in space and time," she said, smiling sweetly. "We'd like to visit the Titanic. April 1912. Once there, we will make a series of changes then we'll be off and we won't ever have to bother you again."

"By changes, what do you mean?"

"Oh, just little ones, nothing that will harm anything."

"Why don't I believe you?" His eyes narrowed. Freya looked innocently and sweetly at him, widening her eyes and sticking out her bottom lip just a touch, an effect she'd learnt in drama at school. It always worked. "Okay, we'll go. But, speaking as an experienced – and handsome – time traveller—" Donna let out a sharp, sarcastic cough. "One little thing can change the course of history for good. If you manage to save anyone who was supposed to die or kill someone who was supposed to live then things will go wrong. There are a few fixed points in time and the sinking of the Titanic is one of them; all of the rest is wibbly-wobbly. You can't change much. If you do happen to want to change things due to your 'plan', you have to consult me. Comprenez-vous?"

"Oui," she replied, even though she knew next to no French. She looked back at Ernest and gave him a thumbs up: their plan to change the movie Titanic was going to work.

At the same time, the Doctor turned around and gave the thumbs up to Donna: their plan to weld Ernest and Freya in a romantic relationship was going to work.