Chapter Text
He slips his hand into hers and whispers, “Run.”
On hindsight, probably not his best move.
“Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” she snaps, scowling and wrenching her hand free and, aggravatingly, not running. “Because I don’t take well to threats. What are you, some sort of thug? And you can keep your hands off me, thanks.”
He gapes at her, then at the figures advancing towards them, hand-guns raised. Back at her. Back at impending doom. He sighs. “Look, lady,” he says, perfectly reasonable, “if you want to get murdered by little plastic men in knockoff jeans, that’s your business. I’m just trying to save your life over here.”
There’s a long, tense silence. The plastic continues to approach, and really, this is getting ridiculous. He weighs the merits of knocking her out and dragging her away against the likelihood of having a facefull of pepper spray clog up his respiratory bypass. He’s not sure he wants to risk it.
She eyes his jacket suspiciously. He glares and peels it off.
“Right,” she says, at long last, and takes off at a jog.
***
“I’m the Doctor, by the way. What’s your name?”
“Donna Noble.”
“Nice to meet you, Donna Noble. Run for your life!”
“No, wait, what are you – you can’t just – Oi!”
***
Donna takes the plastic arm home, because it’s not like she could just leave it lying in the middle of the street. And it could be useful, who knows. For hanging coats and things.
There is a knock on the door.
“Hello,” says the Doctor, grinning madly. He waggles his fingers at her, and she lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“Hello,” says Donna. “You again. I’ve been wondering. Where, exactly, did you get your degree?”
The Doctor’s face falls. Donna plants her hands on her hips.
The plastic arm chooses this moment to leap for his throat.
“Oh, typical man,” grumbles Donna, heading to the kitchen for a frying pan. “You’re all useless.”
***
“I told you to stop following me.”
They are still being chased. Donna is glad she thought to bring flats.
“And then you blew up a building! People don’t listen to people who blow up buildings!”
“They do if they’re stupid apes – Ow!”
“Oh, shut it and run.”
***
“You know,” says the Doctor, shuffling his feet, “you could always come with me.”
Donna eyes his blue box with some suspicion. It seems to be a default state, with her. “Nah,” she says. “Not in there. Too weird.”
“Okay,” the Doctor says, looking like a leather-clad kicked puppy, and closes the door.
She turns, slowly, with just a hint of regret. Time to head home, then. Cup of tea, she thinks, and a shower, and – what is that noise?
“You know,” says the Doctor, hopefully, “It also travels in – “
“Oh, alright then,” says Donna, and breezes inside.
***
“Hello,” says the tree woman. “Is this your wife? Concubine?”
“What,” says the Doctor, big ears turning pink. “No. Oh, no. No no no. No.”
“He’s all yours, twiggy,” adds Donna, helpfully, and walks away.
***
“So. Not from Mars, then.”
“Nope.”
“Venus?”
“Nope.”
“Jupiter?”
“And no.”
“You do realize that once I run out of planets I’ll just start making them up.”
“It’s,” he says, then stops. He looks at her, eyes dark and longing, and something in her softens. “It’s called Gallifrey, actually.”
Donna steps forward, leans her shoulder against his. This jacket’s not so bad, really. Soft. Kind of nice to lean into. “Is it… is it nice?”
“It’s gone.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
It’s sincere, and she hopes he knows it. They stand there for a moment and watch the Earth burn.
“Yeah.”
***
“Twelve hours,” he says, grinning at her. “You’ve seen the future and the past – “
“And nearly been killed both times.”
“ – and you’ve been gone twelve hours, yes.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that, spaceman?”
He huffs, offended. “Are you doubting me, Donna?”
“Did we, or did we not, end up in Cardiff the last time you aimed for London?”
“Look, if it got you to meet Charles Dickens….”
“And did we, or did we not, nearly get murdered by gas lamps? In Cardiff? Instead of London?”
The Doctor sighs, put-upon, but goes to check the calendar anyway.
***
“EXTERMINATE,” says the Dalek.
“Oh, shut up,” says Donna, and whacks it with the crowbar.
***
The Dalek basks. Donna stares. The Doctor hoists the gun up on his hip, eyes blazing like a wildfire.
“Put it down,” Donna says, not turning. “Leave it alone. It isn’t hurting anyone. It just wants to live.”
The Doctor breathes, ragged and heavy, like he’s running, like he’s crying. “It tried to kill you, Donna,” he says, voice like molten steel. “You helped it and it tried to kill you, because that’s what it does. That’s what it is. It’s evil. It’s a monster. It does nothing but hate and kill, and I – “
Donna turns, eyes soft with compassion and reproach. “And you hate it. And you want to kill it.”
She takes a step forward, and he flinches away. “Donna,” he says, voice raw with desolation. “Don’t.”
“You need someone to stop you,” she murmurs, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m stopping you now, spaceman. Put. It. Down.”
The Doctor is shaking. “I couldn’t save them,” he whispers. “I couldn’t save them, but I could end this, right now…”
“Oh, and why is that your job?” she snaps back. “What makes you so special?”
The Doctor says nothing. Donna keeps her hold on his sleeve. Slowly, slowly, he puts the gun down.
“EXCUSE ME,” says the Dalek, “DONNA NOBLE – “
“And you,” says Donna, reaching up to give the Doctor a much-needed hug, “Can just shut it for a moment.”
The Dalek shuts it.
***
“Barrage balloon,” Jack says, eyebrows arched high. “Really?”
“That accent,” Donna says, woozy. “Really?”
Jack chuckles, tightens his grip on her waist. Donna wants to shake him off but, well. At this moment, she’s seeing two of him. And they’re both rather fit, really.
“By the way,” says Donna, “Excellent bottom,” and passes out.
***
“Are you my mummy?”
“Kid, do I look like a mother to you?”
“Donna. Hey. This is really not the time.”
“Well, do I?”
“If it helps, ma’am, I think you look lovely.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Hello? Gas mask zombies? London blitz? Running?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stupid apes.”
“Oi!”
***
The Daleks are back. Jack is dead. Down below, the Earth is burning.
Donna fights the urge to make a cup of tea.
She might be in shock.
“Doctor,” she says, “hey.”
He grunts and yanks at a bundle of wires, viciously. She wants to hug him, but he probably needs his hands free right now. The whole planet probably needs his hands free.
“Just…” She hates how small her voice sounds, how childlike. She was supposed to be brave. “Just. Tell me everything’s going to be alright.”
He turns and looks at her, and for a second his eyes are blue like a clear sky and just as open, just as searching, just as lost. The moment passes and they cloud again. “Yeah, sure, Donna,” he says, tiredly. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just peachy. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.”
It stings, even though she knows it shouldn’t. He sighs. “Here,” he says, handing her a wire. “Take this into the TARDIS and plug it into the console, alright? I need to charge it up.”
She takes it without speaking and goes.
When the doors slam shut behind her, she’s not as shocked as she should be, but no less outraged.
***
“This is Emergency Programme One.”
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
***
“Donna,” he says, gaping, “What?”
She steps out of the TARDIS, her hair like flame and her eyes burning gold. She waves a hand, and the Daleks turn to dust. She glows in the light from his ship, and burns, and burns, and burns.
“I am the Bad Wolf,” she says, turning to him. “And you are a great, big, outer-space moron.”
Later, when she falls, he know what he has to do.
“I have the feeling I’m really going to regret this,” the Doctor says, and kisses her.
***
“Wow, look at that hair. I’ve missed having hair. Nice thing, hair. Don’t you think, Donna? Hair? Hmm?”
“Doctor.”
“Yep?”
“You’ve… changed. You never told me you could change.”
“Nah, not really. Just my body, see. And… possibly…. Key parts of my personality. But I’m still the same, you know. The same old happy-go-lucky….”
“Mmhm.”
There is a long silence. The new guy deflates, more than slightly, sags against the console.
“Yeah, alright. Home, then? I’ll see you back, nice and safe, let you get on with your, you know. Life.”
Donna gives him a scathing look.
“You. Are an idiot.”
“Ah. Ah. Well then. Allons-y, Donna Noble! Ooh, that’s a good word, allons-y. I need to say it more often.”
“Do you heck, you numpty.”
***
One day, when they are drifting around a star, sipping tea:
“How long are you going to stay with me?”
“As long as you need me, spaceman.”