katherine_b (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
katherine_b) wrote2009-05-27 07:37 am
katherine_b) wrote2009-05-27 07:37 am
Entry tags:
DW Fic - Friends or Strangers Part I Chapter 5
Title: Friends or Strangers 5/12
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katherine_b
Rating: PG
Characters: Donna and the Doctor (John Smith)
Disclaimer: If the Doctor and Donna were really mine, this story wouldn’t even need to exist!
Spoilers: Up to and including Planet of the Dead
Summary: Donna’s got a new friend…
Chapter IV
“So what soppy romantic comedy are we going to see this time?” John demands with a theatrical roll of his eyes.
Donna smirks and pats his arm in a would-be consoling manner. “Something a bit different this time,” she says. “That one.”
And she points to the poster they’re standing in front of. John turns to look at her, his eyebrows raised in obvious surprised.
“Really?”
“Why is that so surprising?”
“Well, I’d never picked you as a science-fiction fan, miss I-don’t-believe-in-aliens.”
“Hey, you’re the one who told me to be more curious,” she reminds him. “And what’s your objection to it anyway? I dare say there are plenty of gadgets you can ogle.”
“Plenty of guns, too,” he tells her. “I don’t like guns.”
“Oh, come on,” she begs, tugging him gently in the direction of the ticket window. “It’s only a movie! You know that anyone who gets shot gets up and goes home at the end of the day.”
“Not in real life, they don’t,” John retorts, but then, as she turns pleading eyes on him, “Oh, all right, if you must!”
“Thanks,” she says, reaching up to dot a kiss on his cheek, before leading him over to join the queue.
Although she knows it’s only a fictional story, Donna can’t help watching the film with all of the information she learned about the Doctor the previous night circling in her mind. She overlays the faces of the different Doctors on those of the actors and wonders how Earth would react if it faced similar threats.
And she wonders which side the Doctor would fight on.
“Hey, fingers!” John murmurs at one point. “I’ve only got ten and you can’t keep one as a souvenir.”
She relaxes her grasp on his hand with a somewhat embarrassed smile. “Sorry.”
“Maybe this will be better.” He releases his hand from her hold and slides his arm around her shoulders. “Okay?”
“Mmm hmm.” She rests her head against his shoulder. “Very nice.”
“Good.”
They sit like that for the rest of the movie, and Donna is often distracted from her thoughts by the action on the screen or, sometimes, by the sound of John’s heartbeat in her ear, so that she has no more time to think about the Doctor.
When the film ends, the stroll out into the darkness of the late evening.
“All fingers still present and accounted for?” Donna teases. “I haven’t pocketed any?”
John holds up his hand and wiggles his fingers at her. “They are indeed.”
He takes her hand as they head down the street and she smiles, giving his maltreated fingers a gentle squeeze.
“Was it really as bad as you thought it was going to be?”
“There are other ways of getting out of dangerous situations than shooting people.” He sighs ruefully, running his free hand through his hair. “Of course, it doesn’t make for such a good movie if you have to spend time talking, rather than taking the quick and easy way out.”
“I suppose I can’t blame you for not liking guns. I’m not that keen on them myself. Well, not unless they’re there for comedic value – filled with water or something like that.”
John chuckles. “Oh, they can have their uses, too. But tell me – what prompted you to want to see Star Trek of all things? I’ve never picked you as the type who’d watch that sort of film.”
She smiles. “Well, it’s your fault.”
“What? Mine?” He looks indignant. “How can it be?”
Donna chuckles. “Well, you were the one who told me I should be curious and try new things. And Gramps said much the same thing. So I did.”
“Well, I can hardly argue with the combined wisdom of myself and your grandfather, can I?” John jokes. “I do think it’s a sensible idea, though. You should always make up your own mind about things, rather than just let yourself get told what to think by other people.”
Donna arches an eyebrow as she turns to him. “You’re talking about my mother?”
“A bit, yes,” he agrees. “She does seem to find it difficult to be flexible in her way of thinking, or to accept that other people can think differently.”
“Considering you’re too afraid to go near her, I don’t know how you understand her that well,” Donna teases. “But actually I’ve been doing exactly what you’re suggesting.”
“I’m very glad to hear it!” he says enthusiastically. “What have you been researching then?”
“I’ve been looking into the adventures of someone who seems to be called ‘the Doctor’.” John stops walking so abruptly that she’s almost pulled over. When she looks up at his face, she’s surprised by the combination of emotions in his eyes. “Do you know the Doctor?” she can’t help asking.
There’s a pause. “I know him as well as anyone does,” comes the even reply.
“Well, I know what I’d do if I ever met him – run for the hills,” Donna declares, ignoring the hesitation. “I’d be absolutely terrified!”
John laughs. “You wouldn’t, you know,” he says. “You’ve got too much courage for that.”
“I would!” she insists. “I’m always frightened of dangerous people.”
John stops and looks down at her. “Why do you think he’s dangerous?” he asks faintly.
“I told you, I’ve been reading about him,” she says impatiently. “About how he destroys people’s lives! So many people have died when he’s around.”
“I suppose that sometimes happens,” John admits slowly.
“Thought so!”
“…but that’s never his intention,” he continues. “He tries to help people. He only ever wants to save them.”
“Oh, come off it!” Donna rolls her eyes, pulling her hand free from John’s less than gently. “People die around him! Loads of them! But you’re telling me that he’s a saint underneath?”
“He tries to be.”
“Hah!”
“He does!”
“Not according to what I’ve read.” Donna frowns. “Personally, I think it’s pretty strange how, whenever there’s something alien happening, he turns up.”
“He can travel in time, Donna. Of course he – hey, hold on!” He stops, turning to face her, his eyes narrowing. “You’re suggesting that he’s involved somehow!”
“Well, it’s all pretty suspicious, don’t you think?”
“No!” John’s eyes are icy and she can see the fury in his face. “Of course not!”
“I think there are a lot of people who would disagree with you.” Donna can feel her own temper rising. “Except most of them can’t because they’re dead!”
“I can promise you, Donna,” John says softly, but his face is grim, “the Doctor isn’t the cause of alien invasion. He’s not behind it. He defends the Earth – and has done for a lot longer than you can imagine.”
“Why would an alien be interested in defending our planet?” Donna demands. “It’s ridiculous! It doesn’t make sense!”
“He just likes it!” John retorts angrily. “He’s fond of Earth – and why shouldn’t he be? Most people here are lovely!”
“That’s meant for me, I suppose,” Donna snaps back. “Thanks a lot!”
“Of course not, Donna, don’t be so sensitive!” John rolls his eyes. “Not everything is about you, you know. I was talking about…”
“Oh, I know exactly what you were talking about!” Donna props her hands on her hips. “I suppose you think I’m too dumb to have worked all that out for myself? People are always saying that about me, but I never thought you’d be one of them, John Smith!”
“Donna.” John speaks quietly, calmly, but with such coldness in her voice that, if she wasn’t in the midst of a furious temper, she’d probably be terrified by it. As it is, she’s beyond noticing. “I’m not saying that at all, and you know it.”
“You’re just like my mother!” Donna exclaims, completely ignoring his interruption as she points an accusing finger at him. “And – and everyone else who’s ever said I wasn’t good enough! People who told me that all I was ever interested in was junk food and trashy magazines and I didn’t even have the brains to be able to point out Germany on a map!”
John flinches visibly at this comment, but Donna doesn’t pay any attention. Instead she returns to the original subject of their argument.
“Can you prove that the Doctor’s as good a person as you claim?”
“Can you prove that he isn’t?” John shoots back.
“Plenty of people think he’s not!” Donna waves her hands in a gesture of demonstration.
“Name one.”
“Mickey.” Donna watches with some satisfaction as John inhales a sharp breath. “I found a website he made and he hated the Doctor like anything. Thought he was responsible for every alien sighting out there. Blamed him for everything.”
“Mickey had reason to be unhappy with the Doctor,” John says slowly, his voice getting softer as hers increases in volume. “But he did change his mind.”
“And I suppose he’s dead, is he?” Donna demands. “Considering that website hadn’t been updated for a couple of years. He did die in the Battle of Canary Wharf?”
A look of extreme pain crosses John’s face.
“He could be by now, but he actually survived the war on Canary Wharf. Last I heard, he’d found a new job. That might be keeping him too busy to update the website you found.” John slides his hands into the pockets of his pants. “The Doctor’s not perfect by any measure, but he does try.”
“And I suppose I’ve just got to take your word for it?”
“It might be nice,” he says coldly.
“Yeah, well, you can bloody well keep hoping, mate,” she shouts, before turning on her heel and storming off.
* * *
Teaser for the next part
She doesn’t want to spend the day in her room, thinking about – regretting – what she did and said.
Author:
katherine_b Rating: PG
Characters: Donna and the Doctor (John Smith)
Disclaimer: If the Doctor and Donna were really mine, this story wouldn’t even need to exist!
Spoilers: Up to and including Planet of the Dead
Summary: Donna’s got a new friend…
Chapter IV
“So what soppy romantic comedy are we going to see this time?” John demands with a theatrical roll of his eyes.
Donna smirks and pats his arm in a would-be consoling manner. “Something a bit different this time,” she says. “That one.”
And she points to the poster they’re standing in front of. John turns to look at her, his eyebrows raised in obvious surprised.
“Really?”
“Why is that so surprising?”
“Well, I’d never picked you as a science-fiction fan, miss I-don’t-believe-in-aliens.”
“Hey, you’re the one who told me to be more curious,” she reminds him. “And what’s your objection to it anyway? I dare say there are plenty of gadgets you can ogle.”
“Plenty of guns, too,” he tells her. “I don’t like guns.”
“Oh, come on,” she begs, tugging him gently in the direction of the ticket window. “It’s only a movie! You know that anyone who gets shot gets up and goes home at the end of the day.”
“Not in real life, they don’t,” John retorts, but then, as she turns pleading eyes on him, “Oh, all right, if you must!”
“Thanks,” she says, reaching up to dot a kiss on his cheek, before leading him over to join the queue.
Although she knows it’s only a fictional story, Donna can’t help watching the film with all of the information she learned about the Doctor the previous night circling in her mind. She overlays the faces of the different Doctors on those of the actors and wonders how Earth would react if it faced similar threats.
And she wonders which side the Doctor would fight on.
“Hey, fingers!” John murmurs at one point. “I’ve only got ten and you can’t keep one as a souvenir.”
She relaxes her grasp on his hand with a somewhat embarrassed smile. “Sorry.”
“Maybe this will be better.” He releases his hand from her hold and slides his arm around her shoulders. “Okay?”
“Mmm hmm.” She rests her head against his shoulder. “Very nice.”
“Good.”
They sit like that for the rest of the movie, and Donna is often distracted from her thoughts by the action on the screen or, sometimes, by the sound of John’s heartbeat in her ear, so that she has no more time to think about the Doctor.
When the film ends, the stroll out into the darkness of the late evening.
“All fingers still present and accounted for?” Donna teases. “I haven’t pocketed any?”
John holds up his hand and wiggles his fingers at her. “They are indeed.”
He takes her hand as they head down the street and she smiles, giving his maltreated fingers a gentle squeeze.
“Was it really as bad as you thought it was going to be?”
“There are other ways of getting out of dangerous situations than shooting people.” He sighs ruefully, running his free hand through his hair. “Of course, it doesn’t make for such a good movie if you have to spend time talking, rather than taking the quick and easy way out.”
“I suppose I can’t blame you for not liking guns. I’m not that keen on them myself. Well, not unless they’re there for comedic value – filled with water or something like that.”
John chuckles. “Oh, they can have their uses, too. But tell me – what prompted you to want to see Star Trek of all things? I’ve never picked you as the type who’d watch that sort of film.”
She smiles. “Well, it’s your fault.”
“What? Mine?” He looks indignant. “How can it be?”
Donna chuckles. “Well, you were the one who told me I should be curious and try new things. And Gramps said much the same thing. So I did.”
“Well, I can hardly argue with the combined wisdom of myself and your grandfather, can I?” John jokes. “I do think it’s a sensible idea, though. You should always make up your own mind about things, rather than just let yourself get told what to think by other people.”
Donna arches an eyebrow as she turns to him. “You’re talking about my mother?”
“A bit, yes,” he agrees. “She does seem to find it difficult to be flexible in her way of thinking, or to accept that other people can think differently.”
“Considering you’re too afraid to go near her, I don’t know how you understand her that well,” Donna teases. “But actually I’ve been doing exactly what you’re suggesting.”
“I’m very glad to hear it!” he says enthusiastically. “What have you been researching then?”
“I’ve been looking into the adventures of someone who seems to be called ‘the Doctor’.” John stops walking so abruptly that she’s almost pulled over. When she looks up at his face, she’s surprised by the combination of emotions in his eyes. “Do you know the Doctor?” she can’t help asking.
There’s a pause. “I know him as well as anyone does,” comes the even reply.
“Well, I know what I’d do if I ever met him – run for the hills,” Donna declares, ignoring the hesitation. “I’d be absolutely terrified!”
John laughs. “You wouldn’t, you know,” he says. “You’ve got too much courage for that.”
“I would!” she insists. “I’m always frightened of dangerous people.”
John stops and looks down at her. “Why do you think he’s dangerous?” he asks faintly.
“I told you, I’ve been reading about him,” she says impatiently. “About how he destroys people’s lives! So many people have died when he’s around.”
“I suppose that sometimes happens,” John admits slowly.
“Thought so!”
“…but that’s never his intention,” he continues. “He tries to help people. He only ever wants to save them.”
“Oh, come off it!” Donna rolls her eyes, pulling her hand free from John’s less than gently. “People die around him! Loads of them! But you’re telling me that he’s a saint underneath?”
“He tries to be.”
“Hah!”
“He does!”
“Not according to what I’ve read.” Donna frowns. “Personally, I think it’s pretty strange how, whenever there’s something alien happening, he turns up.”
“He can travel in time, Donna. Of course he – hey, hold on!” He stops, turning to face her, his eyes narrowing. “You’re suggesting that he’s involved somehow!”
“Well, it’s all pretty suspicious, don’t you think?”
“No!” John’s eyes are icy and she can see the fury in his face. “Of course not!”
“I think there are a lot of people who would disagree with you.” Donna can feel her own temper rising. “Except most of them can’t because they’re dead!”
“I can promise you, Donna,” John says softly, but his face is grim, “the Doctor isn’t the cause of alien invasion. He’s not behind it. He defends the Earth – and has done for a lot longer than you can imagine.”
“Why would an alien be interested in defending our planet?” Donna demands. “It’s ridiculous! It doesn’t make sense!”
“He just likes it!” John retorts angrily. “He’s fond of Earth – and why shouldn’t he be? Most people here are lovely!”
“That’s meant for me, I suppose,” Donna snaps back. “Thanks a lot!”
“Of course not, Donna, don’t be so sensitive!” John rolls his eyes. “Not everything is about you, you know. I was talking about…”
“Oh, I know exactly what you were talking about!” Donna props her hands on her hips. “I suppose you think I’m too dumb to have worked all that out for myself? People are always saying that about me, but I never thought you’d be one of them, John Smith!”
“Donna.” John speaks quietly, calmly, but with such coldness in her voice that, if she wasn’t in the midst of a furious temper, she’d probably be terrified by it. As it is, she’s beyond noticing. “I’m not saying that at all, and you know it.”
“You’re just like my mother!” Donna exclaims, completely ignoring his interruption as she points an accusing finger at him. “And – and everyone else who’s ever said I wasn’t good enough! People who told me that all I was ever interested in was junk food and trashy magazines and I didn’t even have the brains to be able to point out Germany on a map!”
John flinches visibly at this comment, but Donna doesn’t pay any attention. Instead she returns to the original subject of their argument.
“Can you prove that the Doctor’s as good a person as you claim?”
“Can you prove that he isn’t?” John shoots back.
“Plenty of people think he’s not!” Donna waves her hands in a gesture of demonstration.
“Name one.”
“Mickey.” Donna watches with some satisfaction as John inhales a sharp breath. “I found a website he made and he hated the Doctor like anything. Thought he was responsible for every alien sighting out there. Blamed him for everything.”
“Mickey had reason to be unhappy with the Doctor,” John says slowly, his voice getting softer as hers increases in volume. “But he did change his mind.”
“And I suppose he’s dead, is he?” Donna demands. “Considering that website hadn’t been updated for a couple of years. He did die in the Battle of Canary Wharf?”
A look of extreme pain crosses John’s face.
“He could be by now, but he actually survived the war on Canary Wharf. Last I heard, he’d found a new job. That might be keeping him too busy to update the website you found.” John slides his hands into the pockets of his pants. “The Doctor’s not perfect by any measure, but he does try.”
“And I suppose I’ve just got to take your word for it?”
“It might be nice,” he says coldly.
“Yeah, well, you can bloody well keep hoping, mate,” she shouts, before turning on her heel and storming off.
Teaser for the next part
She doesn’t want to spend the day in her room, thinking about – regretting – what she did and said.
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(That of course means that this was very good. Obviously.)
I love that they're so mate-y and hang out and that, no people, her brain hasn't exploded just from seeing him, although that's possible I suppose. Anyway, they're fantastic together, and even more so in this fic! But oh noes, Donna's getting snoopy, and she's made the poor Doctor mad. I'm surprised he didn't accidentally let something slip, bless his overactive mouth. Lol.
Anyway, was that a long enough comment? :p
In short, I love this. You know I'll be on tomorrow to get the next bit~! :D
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And then Donna had to go and ruin it, didn't she?
I imagine the Doctor was thinking about every single word before it came out of his mouth so that he didn't say the wrong thing. I'm considering writing one scene from John Smith's POV, just to get an idea of what he's thinking, as a deleted scene. This is a pretty strong candidate for that scene.
That was a lovely comment, thank you!
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(Well, not now, but you know what I mean. Actually I do mean now lol.)
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Fantastic chapter as always.
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Great chapter and great confrontation!Donna has a real temper!:D
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And Donna definitely has a temper, as we've seen!
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Now the Doctor needs to go and talk to her. Because they need it.
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oh and great story by the way, i really love it!
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I love snarky!Donna, but she's being so mean to John.
Poor John, *pets him*
She's write tho', the Doctor is a VPD...
*runs to next part*
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But what's a VPD...?
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