The road less travelled...

Title: Planet of the Dead and the Living 2/7
Author: katherine_b
Characters/Pairing: The Doctor (Ten), Donna, Lady Christina de Souza
Rating: G
Spoilers: Everything in Planet of the Dead and some things for NuWho S4.

Part II

Before the Doctor can speak, the young man in the red top approaches them, pointing an accusing finger at the man in the brown suit.

“Hold on a minute,” he snaps, and the Doctor straightens up at the aggressive tone of his voice.

“I saw you, mate,” the angry young man continues, and Donna steps closer. “You had that thing, that machine.” He points back at the bus. “Did you make this happen?”

Donna moves suddenly to stand in front of the Doctor, glaring at the young man, who defiantly meets her gaze for a moment before taking an obviously unwilling step back.

“You want to make something of it, you've got to go through me first,” she snaps, and red-shirt moves back even further.

“Oh, humans on buses,” the Doctor groans, placing a hand on her arm. “Always blaming me. That's enough though, Donna. Let me explain.”

“Not if they're going to blame you for something you didn't do!”

“No one's blaming him for anything,” the other young man puts in urgently.

“He was.” Donna points at the other youth, who swallows hard.

“Look, look,” the Doctor protests, “if you must know, I was tracking a hole in the fabric of reality.”

“What?” Donna snaps, turning to glare at him instead, satisfied when he flinches. “A hole in the fabric of reality?” she demands, whacking his arm. “I thought we were looking for the TARDIS!”

“Yeah, I might have forgotten to mention that bit,” he admits uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck, before turning to the other passengers. “Call it a hobby. But it was a tiny little hole, no danger to anyone. Only it gets big and we drive right through it.”

The other passengers look around in confusion while Donna fixes a look on the Doctor that she hopes he interprets as the fact that this conversation is not over between them.

“Well then, where is it?” the bus driver demands before she can say anything. “Hey, there's... there's nothing. There's... there's just sand.”

The Doctor sighs and then marches away from the group towards the rear of the bus.

“Right,” he snaps, because this is one side of humans that drives him to distraction. “You want proof?”

He bends down and scoops up a handful of sand.

“We drove through this,” he tells them, and then flings the sand into the air in front of them.

Everyone except the Doctor gasps as the air seems to bend and twist, rippling visibly in front of them. Even Donna feels her eyes widen at the sight.

“And,” the brunette asks, “that is?”

“A door,” the Doctor tells her, turning back to face them. “A door in space.”

There's a moment of silence before the bus driver speaks again, and Donna's worried by the look in his eyes. She knows a moment later that she's right to be concerned.

“And what you're saying is,” he exclaims excitedly, “on the other side of that is home. We can get to London through there?”

“The bus came through,” the Doctor tells him calmly as he moves back to join the rest of the group. “But we can't.”

However the bus driver is already marching forwards and clearly hasn't heard a word. “Well then, what are we waiting for?” he demands half-running towards the door.

The Doctor is a split-second too late to grab the driver.

“No, no, no, don't!” the Doctor begs, reaching out uselessly to him.

“I'm going home, mate!” the other man yells in delight.

The Doctor dashes after him. “I said don't!” he screams desperately, but it's too late.

The Doctor's scream is echoed by the driver, and then the doorway flickers with white light as the man begins to pass through. Donna feels bile rise in her throat as she sees his skeleton as he begins to disappear, and she knows that his attempt to escape from their current situation will kill him.

There's a horrible hissing sound and flashing lights that make everyone flinch away from the doorway. Donna hopes she was the only one who glimpsed the unfortunate driver's fate, but that hope is quickly dashed.

“It was a skeleton, man,” the red-shirted young man whimpers, dropping to the ground. “It was bones, just bones!”

* * *

The Doctor looks around in the silence that follows the young man's exclamation. The blonde-haired woman is being comforted by the other young man in the grey jacket. Donna has stepped over to place a hand on the red-shirted boy's shoulder. And Christina is staring at him, obviously waiting for him to speak, to explain what just happened.

He turns to the bus, determined to give everyone something to think about other than the horrific scene they have just witnessed.

“The bus,” he offers. “Look at the damage. It was the bus protecting us. Great big box of metal.”

“Rather like a faraday cage,” Christina offers.

He nods, but the grey-shirted young man speaks before he can agree with her.

“Like in a thunderstorm, yeah?” he says. “Safest place is inside a car 'cause the metal conducts the lightning right through. We did it at school.”

“If we could only travel back inside the bus...” Christina offers, her voice wistful. “A faraday cage needs to be closed. That thing's been ripped wide open.”

“Well, slight interdynamics of the wormhole,” he tells her. “There's enough metal to make it work, I think. I hope!”

“Then we have to drive five tons of bus, which is currently buried in the sand, and we've got nothing but our bare hands, correct?”

“I'd say nine and a half tons. But the point still stands, yep,” he agrees somewhat reluctantly.

“Then we need to apply ourselves to the problem with discipline,” she says firmly. “Which starts with appointing a leader.”

“Yes,” he agrees, delighted that she saw what he wanted. “At last. Thank you, so...”

However she cuts him off.

“Well, thank goodness you've got me,” she says briskly. “Everyone do exactly as I say. Inside the bus immediately.”

The Doctor frowns, thrown by her assumption of power. Donna straightens up and arches an eyebrow expectantly as she looks from him to Christina. However it's the man next to the blonde woman who speaks.

“Is it safe in there?”

“I don't think anything's safe anymore,” Christina replies calmly. “But if it's a choice between baking in there or roasting out here, I'd say baking's slower. Come on, all of you, right now,” she adds, when nobody moves, except the young man sitting on the ground, who fixes her with a glare.

The blonde woman immediately scrambles onto the bus, followed by the young man who had been comforting her. Donna hesitates, watching for the Doctor's reaction. However Christina speaks again before he can.

“And you,” she tells him sharply. “The Doctor.”

He nods and turns away, gently prodding Donna in the direction of the bus. “Yes, ma'am,” he agrees.

As he goes, he hears her ordering the young man in the red shirt to his feet and then Donna glances back over her shoulder at him as she sits down in the seat she had used before.

“You're letting her boss you around like that?”

“If it keeps everyone calm,” he offers with a shrug, removing his duster and then dropping into the seat in front and propping his feet up on the chair back.

“Never thought I'd see the day,” she shoots back with a grin.

He reaches back to poke her in the arm before turning his attention to Christina, who is outlining a plan. Most of it is quite logical really, but he's pleased when she reaches point six.

“Team identification,” she says firmly. “Names. I'm Christina. This man is apparently the Doctor.”

“Hello,” he says with a smile.

“And I'm Donna,” the redhead says from behind him.

“And you are?” Christina asks the boy in the front row.

“Nathan,” he says with a little wave.

“I'm Barclay,” says the young man in the red shirt.

“Angela,” says the blonde woman. “Angela Whittaker.”

“My name's Louis,” says the older man sitting opposite Donna, and the Doctor turns his attention to this couple for the first time. “Everyone calls me Lou,” he goes on. “And this is Carmen.”

“Excellent,” Christina compliments them. “Memorise those names. There might be a test,” she adds teasingly, before continuing, as the Doctor glances out of the empty window, “Point seven. Application and assessment of knowledge. Over to you, Doctor.”

He starts when he hears his name. “I thought you were in charge!”

“I am.” She smirks. “And a good leader utilises her strength. You seem to be the brain box. So. Start boxing.”

He decides she's got a point and swings his legs around so that he's sitting on the back of the seat rather than the cushion. It might not be comfortable, but it gives him something of a height advantage, and he's found that to be a help in similar situations.

“Right,” he says. “So, the wormhole. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was just an accident.”

“No,” a voice contradicts him at once and he looks over to find Carmen watching him. “It... it.... it... wasn't,” she continues, pointing out of the rear window at the wormhole. “That thing, the doorway, someone made it. For a reason.”

“How do you know?” he demands.

She immediately drops her eyes and he knows that she's embarrassed, reluctant, for some reason, to explain.

“She's got a gift.” It's Lou who fills the gap, giving Carmen a loving look that makes the Doctor appreciate the affection between them. “Ever since she was a little girl, she can just tell things. We do the lottery twice a week,” he confides with a smile.

“You don't look like millionaires,” Christina's mocking voice cuts in.

“No,” he agrees calmly. “But we win ten pounds. Every week, twice a week, ten pounds.” He shakes his head, a loving smile on his face and in his voice. “Don't tell me that's not a gift.”

Christina is clearly silenced because she says no more, but the Doctor stays focused on Carmen. He's come across this sort of thing before, of course, but not usually so clearly among humans.

“Tell me, Carmen,” he says, putting his hand behind his back and holding down his index finger with his thumb. He sees Donna peer around at his hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,” Carmen says quickly, and then, as he releases his first finger, “Four.”

“Very good,” Donna says before he can speak. “But can you do that at home, too?”

“No.” Carmen shakes her head definitively. “Not always. Here, though – I just know.”

“Psychic ability exacerbated by an alien sun,” the Doctor suggests, as much to Donna as himself. Then he moves to sit properly on the seat so that he can watch the psychic woman more closely. “What did you see, Carmen?” he prompts her. “Tell me what's out there.”

“Something,” she replies uneasily, and he can feel the tension mounting as everyone is focusing on her words. “Something is coming. Riding on the wind. And shining.”

“What is it?” he demands, feeling suddenly uneasy.

“Death,” she says, and the silence is so think it can be felt. “Death is coming.”

The result is complete and utter pandemonium.

“We're going to die!” Angela cries out, bursting into tears.

“Oh, I knew it man,” Barclay exclaims in horror. “I said so!”

“We can't die here,” Nathan pleads, his eyes widening as he looks around for reassurance. “No one's gonna know!”

“This isn't exactly healthy,” Christina states, but no one is listening to her now, except Barclay, who snaps at her.

“Shut up! We're not gonna...”

But what he's not going to do is lost in the rapidly-increasing volume of terrified voices.

“It's not doing any good,” Christina exclaims.

“All right,” the Doctor pleads. “Now stop it. Everyone,” his voice climbs, “stop it!”

And then a shrill, piercing and very familiar whistle cuts across the voices, silencing them in an instant.

However the Doctor has no chance to acknowledge Donna's achievement because Angela's sobs break through the sudden silence.

He leaps out of his seat and bends down so that he's on eye-level with her, holding her shoulders in a firm, reassuring grasp.

“Angela,” he says in a light voice. “Look at me. Angela. Angela?” Her sobs are getting softer, but she's refusing to look at him. “Answer me one question, Angela,” he says. “That's it. At me, at me.” And when she finally looks up at him, he nods. “There we go. Angela, just answer me one thing. When you got on this bus, where were you going?”

He can see her still fighting for emotional control so he's not surprised at her answer. “Doesn't matter now, does it?”

“Answer the question,” he insists, gently but persistently.

“Just home,” she tells him, finally looking at him properly so that he can see the hopelessness in her eyes.

“What's 'home'?” he prompts, fixing his gaze on her.

Her face crumples as she answers. “ Me,” she says tearfully. “And Mike – and Suzanne, that's my daughter. She's eighteen.”

He smiles. “Suzanne,” he says. “Good.”

And then he drops back into his seat and looks at everybody else.

“What about you?” he says to Barclay.

“Dunno,” that young man says with a careless shrug. “Going round Tina's.”

But there's a conscious look in his eye that gives the Doctor a clue as to the truth of that situation.

“Who's Tina?” he prompts. “Your girlfriend?”

“Not yet,” he admits with a tiny smile.

The Doctor beams at him. “Good boy!” he says, and hears Donna chuckle behind him.

“What about you, Nathan?” he asks that young man.

“Bit strapped for cash,” comes the clearly embarrassed reply. “Lost my job last week. Was gonna stay in, watch TV.”

“Brilliant,” says the Doctor cheerfully, pleased to feel the mood lighten. “And you two?” he asks the couple opposite.

“I was going to cook,” Lou tells him.

“It's his turn tonight.” Carmen fills in the rest. “Then I clear up.”

“What's for tea?” the Doctor asks eagerly.

“Chops,” Lou says. “Nice couple of chops and gravy. Nothing special.”

“Oh, that's special,” the Doctor insists. “That's so special. Mm.” He turns in his seat to look at Donna. “When did we last have chops and gravy?”

“Well, it was going to be last week,” she retorts drily, her eyes dancing. “But you burnt them, so we had to have pizza instead.”

There's a chuckle from almost everyone on the bus and the tension eases further. The Doctor winks at Donna, who grins at him in response, before turning back.

“What about you, Christina?” he asks the other member of the group.

She looks up as if startled. “Oh, I was going... so far away.”

He ignores the hesitation, nodding at each person in turn. “Far away, chops and gravy, watching TV, Mike and Suzanne, and poor old Tina.”

“Hey,” Barclay protests half-heartedly, but with a grin.

“Just think of them,” he orders. 'Cos the planet out there, with three suns, a wormhole, and alien sand – that planet is nothing.”

He pauses, looking around to see that everyone is watching him as if hanging on every word. He feels Donna's hand come to rest on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You hear me? Nothing!” he repeats with rather more urgency. “Compared to all those things waiting for you – food, home, people.”

He nods at Angela, seeing that her eyes have filled with tears again.

“Hold on to that,” he tells them. “'Cause we're going to get there. I promise. I'm going to get you home.”

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