Disclaimer: Ooh, I officially own Doctor Who AND Pushing Daisies now! That's why Pushing Daises hasn't been cancelled, Digby can talk and the Intrepid Cow is now stocking STRETCHY CHEESE and RED BUS PASSES. Also, seeing as Doctor Who is MAIIIIIIIIIIIINE, I get to keep the TARDIS, throw in a parsnip into each episode and force David Tennant to stay, by threat of a Death Note. Tis his choice… Mwahahahahhaha! I'm so ebiiiiil!

To sum it ALL up, nope they both don't belong to me.

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Chapter Nine – Explanatory Explanations and Surreal Sightings

"Can I help?"

"No."

"Can I help?"

"No."

"Can I help?"

"For the last time, Itty Bitty, no," Emerson repeated, from what felt like the millionth time. "I can't concentrate on the road with you yapping away like an express train, gone loco. I'd be a lot happier if you'd care to shut that pie hole of yours."

"Two things: Ned owns the Pie Hole, and I closed it one hour and twenty-seven minutes ago."

"WOOF!" Digby agreed, shaking his tail affirmatively. The young, humanoid blonde was the holder of ice cream, treats, salt and all things nice, so he decided he'd agree to earn some Brownie points. Olive patted him on the head.

Emerson grunted, "You know what I mean."

"Why are the so-called 'tourists from across the pond' coming to help, and not me?" Olive said, purposely ignoring the proposed subject at hand.

"Becau… Hey! Don't you go changing the subject on me."

"Ha!" Olive cried triumphantly. "So they are helping. I knew it!"

"Hell no!" Emerson slipped in quickly - his eyes shifting narrowly from side to side. "Babble Mouth and his friends are just--"

"Wait a minute…"Olive narrowed her eyes and suddenly jumped.

Emerson followed suite, shrieking slightly and Digby howled, just for the sake of it. The waitress pointed an accusatory, mimicked gun-cocked finger at one Emerson Cod, who raised one arm from the steering wheel in surrender.

"If Blue Box man and his alien accomplices are helping, why can't I help? 'Cos you can never trust aliens, Emerson. They could be infiltrating the radio signals, and concocting a plan to take over the world with their Blue Boxes and British accents!"

Olive suddenly yelped up in surprise.

"What is it now, girl?!" Emerson growled, irritably.

"Jimminy Cricket! Now we're gone, they've probably kidnapped Ned and Chuck, for hostage! I bet you they'll be calling us for a ransom any minute now!" Olive gabbled rapidly, her small mind jumping to the biggest of conclusions, all of which piecing together to form one big BANG of an idea.

"I think someone's bin' watching too much late night drama," muttered Emerson.

"Emerson, quick, turn the car around!" Olive yelled. "We have to go back to save them."

She instantly grabbed the steering wheel and swerved the car around viciously, causing a squeal of brakes and the screeching of car metal against metal. Or in other words, the car and the innocent lamppost, standing by. Digby barked happily and leaned over the passenger seat, to lick Emerson round the face, much to the P.I's distaste and horror.

"Olive, where in the name of Pie Hole did you learn to drive?" Emerson yelled, trying to take control of the wheel again, to no avail.

"I didn't."

"Oh, hell no..."

"STEP ON THE BRAKES!" Olive screeched.

Emerson slammed down on the brakes, as Olive crazily turned another corner. Unknown to one present Private Eye, Olive had no sense of direction and was driving through the roads, in a small hope that one City Morgue would appear out of the blue.

At the age of ten, young Emerson Cod was trained by one Calista Cod, the arts of prediction and bodily characteristics. It enabled the young P.I. to spot trouble when it came hurtling around the corner, and be prepared for the disaster.

So, now, at forty-two years, fifteen weeks and seven hours of age, the Private Investigator spotted trouble hurtling around the corner, all in the form of one Olive Snook and jumped in, just in time, to stop it.

Emerson shook the dog off him, grabbed the steering wheel back and swung the car around. It was just in the nick of time, for the little, old lady (who was struggling with her grocery shopping) and squat, lime-green alien (hands stuffed with loads of shoes) to hobble across the road.

"Olive!" Emerson scolded grumpily. "If I hadn't saved you from causing the next 7-11, we could've ran over that little, ol' lady and squat, lime-green alien!"

Hang on a minute…

"SQUAT, LIME-GREEN ALIEN?!" Olive and Emerson shouted in unison.

But their one chance had disappeared into the air, as they were now at least a quarter of a mile away from what they thought they'd both saw. This happened to be a squat, lime-green alien, who was carrying an large, unsteady, multi-coloured variety of shoes. Lots of them.

"Alright, alright, already," Emerson said in determination, still panting slightly, as he parked the car at the side of the road. "I've had enough of all this alien bees-knees. We need answers. We're going solve the murder, find out more about Babble Mouth and squeeze the alien bee-knees outta him, but first we're gonna stop off at Madame Gateau's for a slice of cheesecake."

"We?" Olive repeated in perplexity and her eyes gleamed. "I'm in on the game?!"

"As long as you keep your big mouth shut."

"Itty Bitty, at you service!" Olive mimed zipping up her lips and saluted. Digby barked to remind them he was there. She stared at Emerson hopefully. "And Digby?"

"Fine. The dumb dog can come too…"

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Chuck opened her mouth to speak, but Ned quickly cut in.

"Chuck's alive, she's very alive. More alive than you or me," The Doctor raised his eyebrow, causing Ned to add very quickly, "In a normally, humanly human way, of course. Chuck can't be dead; if she were dead, she'd be lying on a floor like a dead funeral director – who happens to have nothing to do with this at all, and not standing up like she is now. And I know that what I'm about to say is very meddlesome, rambling, and changing the subject completely: but, is that Blue Box, parked behind my eatery yours, and if it is, are you really an alien, like Olive says you are?"

"And I thought the Doctor blathered on!" Donna brought up and nodded at the Doctor smugly, eyes bemusedly looking at Ned. "Ned, you should be proud, you've just left his Lord and High with the Silver! What d'you say 'bout that Time Boy?"

"I find that just plain offensive Donna Noble, and I'll have you know that--" the Doctor eyed the watching crowd and cleared his throat, looking at Donna sharply. "Now is not the time. Back to you, Neddy-boy, you were changing the subject; that's rude. Well! In my book anyway. Well! When I say my book, I mean my metaphorical book. But I say metaphorical book, what I'm actually trying to say is--"

Rose cut in.

"How d'you knows about the TARDIS? I thought it was only Olive, from what I've been hearing, the Doctor scared the hell out of."

"TARDIS?" Chuck said, in bewilderment.

"TARDIS: Time And Relative Dimension In Space," the Doctor supplied, only retreating when the girls both shot him a death glare.

"The blue box," Donna and Rose explained in unison.

"It was an accident," Ned gabbled quickly.

"The door was open and we saw you get in, before the box, well, disappeared," Chuck stated the facts as she saw them. She let a small frown char the corners of her lips. "It was a bit like the bees – they started disappearing too," Chuck smiled again. "Well, at least it's stopped now!"

"It bothered me a lot – the bees disappearing. It was as if half of them had unexpectedly decided that they'd pack their tiny, yellow suitcases, and just leave the planet," Ned said pensively – his eye not twitching for one of the very first times that afternoon.

"Oh, we all know why that is!" the Doctor laughed, all tension drained away, as he shared a knowledgeable look with Donna.

"We do?" Rose reiterated, as her eyebrows knitted together.

"Long story, short: the bees, weeeell- some of them at least, aren't exactly… They're sort-of…" the Doctor jittered.

"They're alien," Donna summed up succinctly.

"They're not?!"

Rose gasped in disbelief. Donna nodded with a smile. Chuck stared at the Doctor.

"You mean alien-alien?" she checked, restricting her jaw from dropping.

"As alien as they get!"

"They can't be," Chuck protested, with a shocked air about her. "Aliens are supposed to be huge, green, scary creatures of the dark, haunting children's nightmare, that's what you call aliens: not innocent, defenceless, fuzzy bees."

"Who said anything about dangerous bees?" the Doctor asked casually. "You humans –your heads are stuffed with tales of scary, purple, ten-foot tall monsters under the bed, and giant, talking ants, that you can't open your eyes and accept that aliens live among us. All around us. Even if you don't know. They're not all dangerous and man-eating, weeeell around 65.56479% are, but the Universe is teeming with life! Right under your very nose. Take Paris Hilton for example."

"She is not," Donna said with a stunned intake of breath

"She is!"

"I knew it all along!" Rose whooped cheerily, with a hint of satisfaction. "I never trusted that woman for a second. She's too…"

"Manly?" the Doctor suggested.

"No, I was gonna say…" Rose stopped dead. "Are you saying Paris Hilton is a man?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying! Classic Rufyrejoipigon from the planet, well, the planet Rufyrejoipigoia – exiled forty years ago, crash-landed on Earth thirty years, stumbled upon a crazed fashion fanatic and bingo. A couple of genetic modifications, a sex change and a poodle called Noodle later, you get Paris Hilton! Mind you, the only reason she carries Noodles around with her all the time, is because that's her Chameleon Kinetic Biodiscratic Disguise robot – keeps her looking the way she is. If she had dear Noodles away from her for just two seconds…" the Doctor cringed. "You get the picture. The press would run away screaming!"

"Just wait til I tell Nerys about this! She'd have a fit," Donna laughed.

"Same! Keisha would just go… mental! If you don't believe me, ask 'er brother: she even went to audition to be Paris's British Best friend!"

"Speaking of Paris…" the Doctor tried and failed to bring the subject up again.

"This is as crazy as when Pigby – Olive's pet pig - killed Sister La Rue! All because of some truffles!" Ned deduced.

All at once, the Time Travellers by the names of Rose, Donna and Doctor stared, in bemusement.

"Aliens can't exist. That's impossible," Chuck said, after a moment of silence.

"Says the person that breaks the rule of Time altogether, by just standing here. It should be physically impossible for you to be alive, I mean a magic finger that can wake the dead for a minute is one thing, but you being alive after your…" the Doctor wracked his brains to find a word that wouldn't offend: settling for the closest. "…mishap on your cruise ship… It has my mind spinning!"

"I'm still not clear on everythin', Doctor," Rose slipped in, before the Doctor continued his life long natter. She was blatantly confused about the entire scenario and each new scrap of information, was like another new page of a book. "'Cos, you keep saying Chuck was dead, is dead, but she's not! She's alive as anythin'; I can see her with my own eyes. How does it work? What do you mean?"

"Is she dead or isn't she?" Donna added and looked at Chuck sincerely. "No offence."

"All in good time, Rose, Donna. I'm just getting to the good part! But believe you me; I haven't seen a case like this since the game-station and Jack. But even then… That was just an accident; it wasn't meant to happen. It shouldn't have happened. I still can't say, I'm 100% OK, even now. Time Travel – complicated, ol' thing. You never know what you're in for! Kind of like a blind date, if you put it that way. Though: awfully strange phrase that, 'blind date'," the Doctor continued. "I never did understand why it was called a 'blind date'; you certainly don't go blind to the date, do you?

Weeell, unless you're on the planet Jagrahorn, the people have to meet their 'destined' life partner blind, on their first date! Literally! Their eyes are removed for that night only, where they associate by chatting and crashing into things! It's all very strange really, imagine that! No eyes! You could be going out with the Monster from the Lagoon, and you wouldn't even know until you next saw 'em again! How creepy would that be?" He took a deep breath and shared a look with his companions. "I'm going off track again, aren't I?"

The blonde and the redhead both nodded back at him.

"I lied. Ned's got a long way to go. He's got a bigger gob than the whole Universe put together," the girl called Donna whispered to the girl named Rose.

"Definitely the gold," Rose agreed quietly, giggling.

"So... Anything to say? Anything concerning Ned's magic finger and your existence, to be precise?"

The mysterious anonymity called the Doctor shrugged and discreetly prompted the silent couple.

"I… We… It…" Ned and Chuck started and stopped, simultaneously, both spluttering out into wide smiles.

"Tell you what! Why don't I do the talking instead!"

"Here we go again," the once London shop girl muttered, nudging Donna with her elbow playfully. Donna grinned back at her.

A sudden inspiration struck her.

"Before you launch into full on geek-chic mode, Doctor, I just wanna say"

"Let's rewind the tapes a bit, shall we. How about, oh I don't know, two years ago. Niece to one Vivian and one Lily Charles, lived isolated from the world in one big, old house in Couer D'Couers, am I right?"

Ned was used to untruthfulness, lured like Hansel and Gretel into the Gingerbread house, to force-feed the people he cared for and knew with lies and excuses, all to hide the power of his magic finger, and the family secrets as a child, young Ned, tried so hard to lock away in the deep, dark cupboard of Secrets.

Whereas young Chuck grew up in a life with her Aunt Vivian and, now conversant mother, Aunt Lily, where they lived in a small, quiet life where there was virtually nothing to hide from each other. Young Chuck grew up tending to her bees, learning that the truth was as blue and bright as the summer sky, whereas lies were as dark as the night sky. But there were exceptions. Exceptions where she had no choice, but to hide the truth and spread lies like butter and jam on toast; exceptions like Olive, like her life, like her mother

"Yes," the nicknamed Dead Girl answered – voice fluent and calm, hiding almost all traces of the dishonesty she was feeding the 'tourist', with just that one single word.

"Lonely child, no parents or many friends, but other than that: happy life, positive attitude, love for bees, countless trophies. No problems at all. But one day, you wanted more, you wanted to reach out into the world and see what was really out there: not from the confinements of your bedroom window and city street,"

"Just wanted to check: this is getting somewhere, right?" Rose interrupted.

"It'd better," Donna warned.

"You went to one Boutique Travel Travel Boutique, and although the information is unclear, managed to claim a free ticket on a worldwide Cruise ship, under one condition. You carried something value along with you – the happy Cruise, nothing wrong, until one evening – so they say, you go off to the fridge to collect somethin', when suddenly there's a bag over your head and…"

"I die," Chuck finished, a little sadly.

Donna gazed at the young woman empathically and stepping forward, Rose rested a comforting hand on her arm with Donna next to her.

"You're alive now, that's the most important part," Rose reassured softly.

"Yeah, that and Ned. I wouldn't be here without him," Chuck smiled and passed a glance of tender, loving care at Ned.

"You're not dead. And that's all that matters, isn't that right Doctor?" Donna said firmly and looked for approval from the Time Lord. He didn't respond at all.

"And next thing I know…" Chuck continued.

"Ned's finger has done his 'magic'," the Doctor finished for her.

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Two miles east, little Rickoji toddled across the road with a large variety of shoes– avoided being hit by a large, brown car driven somewhat uncontrollably by one large man and one assisting small blonde.

These were the little man's prizes and treasures, so he clutched them tightly to his chest and ambled beneath the feet of the people. He hobbled across a pair of red, yellow and green Deflectors, which belonged to one smartly dressed, moustached giant with a black and white suit and chattering away on a metal slab, and was nearly tempted to steal them. But as his grubby, podgy fingers felt the smooth material and he reached down to sniff the delicate, designer leather of this giant's shoes, Rickoji remembered his father's wise words: "Never steal shoes that have been stolen from the dead. They are not fresh and give unwanted yellow head-hair."

Cackling smugly at his intellect and large memory span, the green and purple-spotted alien gave the used and 'not fresh' Deflectors a little, solid kick and sprinted off giggling madly.

Subjectively, too small and green to be noticed by the prying eyes of the public, the little, naïve alien hopped onto some grass, disappearing behind a tree and leaving a trail of glittery, light blue dust, as he teleported back to his private HQ.

"Yes, your Ladyship, of course I'm still in the Museum. No, no, I'm not outside – I'm in the, err, café. Yes, yes, I know I should be looking for the shoes that are exactl ylike your deceased Paris's Deflectors--" He wiggled his feet smugly. "—so we can replace them for him. Of course, Lady Elisabeth, the dancing human bananas and plums, shall be arriving at the mansion in an hour's time. Don't worry about it. I'll meet you there, if I can't—OW! Something just kicked me!" the man in black-and-white yelped, snapping his cell phone shut. He looked down just in time to see a little lime-green and purple thing scamper away laughing.

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Reviews are luuuurved as much as rubber ducks, reviews and pickled radiators!

Thanks for all of 'em so far!

OOH! BTW - this'll be updated every Wednesday! Thursday if I've been a baaaad parsnip.. HEHE! =D