Steady as the Beating Drum
Chapter 4: The Doctor Makes a House Call
x
His eleventh regeneration had been more foolhardy than his preceding or current self. He was every bit the madman in a box he'd claimed to be, the raggedy doctor coming unhinged at every moment; never quite closing the door on sanity, but never walking all the way in either.
In his darker moments—and they were dark—he could be more destructive than any other man he'd been before. After losing Amy and Rory he'd gone into a tailspin he couldn't pull out of, nothing would rouse him from the stupor of regret. For a man who didn't like endings the Doctor encountered many.
In one of his fouler moods he visited earth, circa 2010.
He was fresh with the loss of the kind of man who stands sentinel for a thousand years, for a woman who imagined reality back into existence… These were the only terms in which he could think of them. The Doctor could not bring himself to remember more than what they'd done. He refused to think about who they were. If he did- well, if he did then in a weak moment he might actually…
The man in the bowtie with the child-like disposition had an inner darkness that receded more and more with the Ponds' presence. And when they were gone, the dam burst; depression washed over him like waves on the shore, taking just a little more of him away with every sweep.
It was in this state that 2010 called to him, the pied piper of his nightmares.
"Hello there, Wilf!" The Doctor exclaimed with a big smile on his face. He adjusted his bow tie and counted to ten in his head to see if the smile would last. "Still working the pavement old chum? Sylvia not worn you down about retirement?" He realized that he was puffing his chest out too much, that he looked like a cartoon trying to be manly. He deflated with a whoosh, his posture falling inwards. "Alright, okay. Yes."
A shaking hand ran through thick sandy locks, trying to smooth out the disarray. It had been quite some time since he'd left the Tardis. Human interaction seemed to be a long forgotten skill.
Another deep breath and the Doctor turned away from the mirror in which he'd been practicing acting like a functional person. "No time like the present… so to speak!" The Tardis hummed her approval.
He stepped outside into the alley near Wilfred's newspaper stand. It was a sunny late August afternoon in bustling sweaty London.
He pretended to peruse the magazines while studiously not making eyecontact with the proprietor. 'Ok, any second now. On three, speak… one… two…'
"Look lad, I'm real sorry but I don't sell the kind of magazines you're looking for," Wilf sighed, as if he'd had to explain this to a dozen people today.
"Sorry?" The Doctor's eyes came into focus, he'd been pretending to stare at women's magazines.
"Generally when a young man is staring at Cosmo that long they're hintin' for me to offer some dirty mags."
"What? No, oh no no no, Mott, Old Man it's me! The Doctor!"
"Doctor?" He laughed sharply, and threw his arms in the air in celebration. "Doctor! Is it really you?" Wilf came out from behind the stand and hugged the young-looking man. "Look at you! I didn't recognize ya!"
It occurred to the Doctor that no living thing had touched him since Amy had slipped through time. And how this body loved contact! The warmth of the old man's embrace was a comfort.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm alright." 'The Time Lord sort of alright, maybe.'
"Do you…" Wilfred seemed reluctant to voice whatever his concern was. "Donna's coming by any moment with her young man, do you need to… go?"
"No," sighed the Doctor, "She's never seen this face."
As if on cue, she announced her appearance with a shout. "Oi Gramps! Did you tell Mum we're coming to dinner this week? That was right unfair of you, you know!"
"I refuse to incriminate myself!" Wilf shouted back with a guffaw.
"Watch it, you!"
Beside Donna trailed a very tall man with broad shoulders. He had creases of stress in his forehead and smile lines. 'Shaun,' his memory supplied.
"Hello Wilfred," greeted Donna's husband cordially. "Who's your friend?"
The Doctor nodded his head in his direction. "John Smith," he leaned forward with a big stupid grin to shake the man's hand. "Shaun Temple, am I right?"
"Yeah," he enthused while vigorously shaking the Doctor's hand. "How'd you guess?"
"I met a John Smith once, looked nothing like you," Donna piped up, not even looking up from her phone's screen. At the shocked silence she finally made eye contact, looking bored. "Never forget a face."
"No, you certainly do not. Me 'n John go way back."
"I thought you said your name was John."
"It is! Funny world innit?"
Blank looks and rolled eyes from Donna.
The Doctor bounced back on the balls of his feet. "Anyway… Mott over here was just telling me about the wedding."
"Yeah," Donna's eyes twinkled as she geared up to talk about her favorite subject, "Little under a week ago."
"A week!" 'A week?!'
"No honeymoon?"
"No," Donna's tone turned flat and the familiar look of frustration and exasperation (at his stupidity), "Can't afford one quite yet." He could almost hear her teeth grinding together. "What are you getting judg-y for, you twit? With that you ratty secondhand hipster clothes?!"
Shaun placed a placating hand on Donna's arm, "Easy love."
And in that gesture the Doctor saw her entire life stretch out in front of her; the happy life she'd spend with this man, who for all accounts seemed very sweet.
He shouldn't have come.
There were dozens of timelines that he could see behind Donna, dozens of could-have-beens that tangled together and frayed and diverged. Some threads were knotted, others had dead ends. They all lead to this life. And only one lifetime stretched in front of her now.
He really shouldn't have come.
X
"Donna, sweetheart, how are you feeling?" Sylvia's uncharacteristically soft voice gently woke Donna from slumber. She awoke to her mother stroking her fringe off her forehead. She felt sweaty and sluggish.
"Mmyeah, mum what's going on?"
Sylvia bit her lip and glanced around Donna's room, "You were ill last night."
"I was? I don't remember that."
"That's ridiculous, you got sick all over my kitchen!"
"I did?"
"You did!"
Donna groaned at the high pitch of her mother's voice, she hid beneath the blankets. "Sorry."
"You were also…"
Something about the tone she was taking made Donna reemerge. "What? What was I doing?"
"You kept asking for 'the Doctor'."
"That is very weird."
"Darling…what does it mean? What were you dreaming of?"
"Not sure, I don't think I was dreaming about Dr. Smith."
"Dr. Smith?"
"Maisie Smith, my boss. It's like you don't even listen!"
"It's not my fault you don't tell me what's going on in your life Madam!"
"I do, you just don't listen!"
Inwardly, Sylvia's heartbeat was slowing to a normal pace. Donna was not remembering. She was only sick, only dreaming. Sylvia could almost convince herself of that if not for this sudden bout of convenient amnesia.
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In his present, the Doctor took the time to think about it all. He sat down on the jumpseat of the Tardis, facing the controls, knowing that though he felt the all encompassing need to rush; he did indeed have a time machine and time was never of the essence when you could pause it for indeterminate amounts of time.
When he looked at Donna he should have seen her life stretching out in front of her; the timeline of her life moving ever forward, just like it had when he'd seen her so many years ago. He should have seen the zigzagging nonsense behind her.
Instead he saw nothing; no timelines converged around Donna Noble, no future. He didn't even see an end. For Donna Noble, apparently there was only 'Now'.
x
"What are you watchin'?" Donna asked. Jane was spending the day at the office again.
Jane shrugged, but she took out her headphones and turned the screen towards Donna. Oh well, progress was progress.
It was the movie with the fish. The blue one was gazing into the camera with terrible sadness.
"It's over Dory," said the orange fish with the sad old eyes. "We were too late."
"No, no you cant! Stop!" Anxiety crept into Donna's heart, "Please don't go away. Please? No one's ever stuck with me for so long before. And if you leave…" it was suddenly very difficult to breathe, "When I look at you I can feel it. And I look at you and… I'm home. Please. I don't want them to go away. I don't want to forget." Donna did the same thing when she was upset; she kept shaking her head as if telling the bad things in the world 'no' would stop them from happening.
"I'm sorry, but I do," said the orange fish in a cutting voice.
Donna felt a nudge at her elbow. Jane was handing her a tissue. She reached up to touch her face, only to realize that she had been crying.
I don't want to forget.
I don't want to forget.
I don't want to forget.
X
A/n: Don't forget to leave a review to tell me what you think!
~Fiercy