The road less travelled...

Title: Time After Time 12/14
Author: katherine_b
Rating: G
Summary: Have you ever wondered what happens to those the Doctor leaves behind?
Spoilers: Major plot spoilers for The Trial of a Time Lord
Characters: Donna and the Doctor (Six, Ten) plus assorted Classic!Who people and Wilf and Sylvia

Chapter XI

As Donna and Janie watch the screen, the woman with curly red hair who had been helping the Doctor runs back into the courtroom.

“Disconnect the Matrix!” she orders.

“We cannot switch off without the Keeper, and he's not present!” the Inquisitor retorts.

“Then get out here, quickly!” the girl shrieks at the top of her lungs. “Your lives depend on it!”

Even as everyone in the courtroom begins trying to leave, however, Janie points at the screen that shows the Matrix.

“The Master!” she exclaims. “What happened to him?”

Donna eyes the man’s form, which is pressed up against the wall of his TARDIS, a look of fear on his face. “I don’t know,” she admits. “But clearly he isn’t going to be able to succeed in whatever his plans might have been.”

The Master himself provides the answer, his voice shaky. “A limbo atrophier!”

“Ah.” Donna smiles a little. “Yes, that will certainly put him out of action for a while. And how very convenient that Theta should have happened to be in the Master’s TARDIS on his own just a little while ago.”

“Then Father only has to defeat the Valeyard.”

“If the Master was telling the truth about who the Valeyard is then that means he has to defeat himself,” Donna reminds her. “Sometimes that can be the most difficult enemy of all.”

“Eureka!” the Doctor exclaims at that moment, even as, in the wider courtroom, balls of energy rain down on those who hadn’t managed to escape. “And you said it couldn’t be immobilised!”

“What have you done?” the Valeyard demands.

The Doctor’s tone is particularly self-congratulatory. “Induced an anti-phase sequence into the telemetry unit. The whole system should self-destruct.”

“You blundering imbecile!” The Valeyard rushes at him, pulling his arms free of the ropes that had been binding his wrists. “You triggered a ray-phase that may amass a feedback into here!”

“No!” the Doctor exclaims, dodging around the Valeyard and out of the factory.

However the screen in the courtroom suddenly explodes, meaning that Donna and Janie don’t know if he manages to get out of the Matrix before the Valeyard’s machine explodes.

“He will be all right,” Janie says, although her voice shakes traitorously.

“Of course he will,” Donna echoes rather hollowly. “He’s always all right.”

But they both breathe huge sighs of relief when the Doctor runs into the courtroom, in which those members of the jury who were not able to escape the room are to be seen climbing back onto their seats.

The Doctor strolls up to the Inquisitor. “Now, let me see, where were we?” he says politely, his eyes dancing. “I was about to be sentenced, I believe.”

The Inquisitor smiles back. “All charges against you are dismissed, Doctor.”

“I should hope so, too!” Janie exclaims, drowning out the rest of the Inquisitor’s comments.

Hugely relieved, Donna lets herself chuckle. “Did you believe that the Inquisitor would admit she did the wrong thing?”

“I suppose not,” Janie replies.

“Now then,” the Inquisitor herself says briskly at this point, “once law and order have been restored, a new High Council will need to be elected. Can I persuade you to stand for Lord President again?”

The Doctor gives a nervous laugh, even as Janie and Donna exchange wry smiles. “Ah, I've a better idea,” the man replies.

“He's going to suggest you stand,” his companion replies.

“Indeed I am,” the Doctor agrees briskly. “And were there such a thing as an intergalactic postal vote, you'd have mine.”

“Probably not something she ought to advertise,” Donna says with a smile as she watches the Doctor and his companion leave the courtroom.

The Inquisitor watches him go before turning to the other door and the man standing to one side of it. “Repair the Matrix, Keeper. Requisition anything you need.”

That man bows low. “My lady.”

“Oh, and,” the Inquisitor turns to the camera that had been placed in the courtroom so that she seems to be looking directly at the two people in the Presidential office, “once everything is settled, I believe it would be sensible if some of our traditions were maintained and reinstatement occurred.”

There is a murmur from those people leaving the courtroom, but Janie’s expression is confused as she turns to Donna.

“Traditions?”

“I think she means us,” Donna tells her. “Well, the reinstatement part anyway. I don’t want to think about being old enough to be considered a tradition.”

Janie laughs. “It wouldn’t be a bad thing.” She studies Donna for a moment, her head on one side. “Are you going to do it then?”

For a moment, Donna considers. She had heard the whine of the TARDIS engines before the Inquisitor gave orders to rebuild the Matrix, so she knows the Doctor is gone. And besides, his words about Time Lord society are still cutting deep. For some reason, she feels as if her chance to see Theta on Gallifrey again is running out.

And then there’s the fact that she doesn’t know anything beyond what she’s been doing for so many epons. It doesn’t seem as if she’s going to get the chance to do anything else either, so it makes sense to return to her duties for the High Council.

“I suppose so,” she agrees, getting up and walking with Janie to the entrance to the secret passage back to the Chancellor’s office.

* * *
“I’m sorry, Donna.”

The secretary looks up to see the Lady President, Romanadvoratrelundar, standing in the doorway of the inner office.

“Excellence?” she asks questioningly.

“I know you will have heard rumours about the Doctor’s return to Gallifrey, bringing the remains of the Master after his execution on Skaro.”

Donna reads the expression in Romana’s face and her own falls. “He’s not coming,” she says in disappointment.

“There was a problem and the Doctor ended up on Earth.” Romana sighs wearily. “The Master is also not as dead as the Daleks would like him to be.”

“Meaning not dead at all,” Donna says with a wry smile.

“Precisely.”

There is a pause before Donna speaks again.

“They say,” Donna's voice is hesitant, “you travelled with the Doctor.”

Romana smiles. “They say you know him better than anyone else in the Universe,” is all she offers in reply.

“I don't know him anymore.” Donna sighs ruefully. “I haven't seen him in such a long time...”

“Since his trial.” Romana nods. “I suspect he’s keeping away from Gallifrey, just in case we decide to try again.”

“And yet this is the one time we need him.” And Donna glances out of the window at the scorched, churned-up land beyond the Citadel, evidence of the weapons being used against Gallifrey by the Daleks.

“Have you had more nightmares about the war?”

Donna nods wearily. Ever since the war escalated, many epons ago now, she’s had terrifying dreams about the conflict, of the people of Gallifrey waiting in vain for help to arrive, and, most horribly of all, that the battle seems now to be called ‘the Last Great Time War’.

Romana places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Tell me if they get worse,” she says softly and then returns to her office.

* * *
It’s with fear boiling in her stomach that Donna ventures to knock on the door of the Presidential chamber.

“Madame President?”

“Come in, Donna.” Romana is standing at the massive windows that overlook the Citadel and turns when Donna appears. For a moment she studies Donna’s face as that woman approaches her across the carpet before nodding and turning back to face the outside world. “You’ve seen it then – the end. In your dreams.”

“Yes, Excellence.”

An almighty crash from outside makes Donna jump as she reaches Romana’s side, but the President herself seems unmoved.

“You have to do something.” Romana's voice is calm, her voice carrying over the sounds of destruction outside as part of the Citadel collapses.

“What is it?”

“You have to regenerate.”

“What?” Donna turns to the Lady President in horror. “But – Madame President, I can't!”

“You can!” Her gaze is intense. “You must, Donna. You have to survive this. It's vitally important that you do.”

“But – why?” Donna forgets the respect owed to the woman beside her in her confusion. “Why is it so important? What's so important about me?”

Romana, surprisingly, laughs. “Donna, you're the most important woman in the whole of creation!”

“Oh, don't!” Donna shakes her head, turning away, tears burning in her eyes. “Please. Not now. I mean, I'm… I'm not, I'm nothing special. I'm a secretary. I'm not even that, I'm nothing!”

She stares out of the massive wall of glass at the fiery orange sky, finally speaking the one regret she's ever had in her life, quiet bitterness edging her tones.

“I wasn't even important enough to look into the untempered schism like the rest of you.”

“Donna, there was a reason for that.” Romana takes her arm and gently turns Donna to face her. “You know, don't you, that nobody is allowed to know their fate?”

“Well, of course I do!” Donna fights hard to overcome the urge to shake off the other woman's hand. “That's the most basic law of all!”

“The reason,” Romana says insistently, “that you weren't allowed to look into the schism was because your fate is inextricably linked to the fabric of time and space. That's the reason you've always been kept so close to the Council, because everyone always knew how important you are.”

“That's ridiculous!” Donna rolls her eyes impatiently. “Surely I'd know if that was the case!”

“No, it's not.” Romana's voice is oddly persistent, and somehow Donna finds herself believing what she's being told. “Donna, you have so much more to go through! You have a life beyond all of this – beyond everything you've done here on Gallifrey! But,” she steps closer, her voice serious and her eyes intense, “you have to regenerate! You’ve been poisoned by the toxins in the air that are killing us all, and your current body won't survive. And it has to happen now, before the Time Lock is activated, because once that happens, none of us will be able to escape!”

In spite of herself, Donna can feel her mind already starting the all-too-familiar process that will lead to regeneration, knowing she's being pushed to this by the power of the Lady President and the Matrix.

She can't help wondering if this was how Theta felt when they made him change.

Romana opens the door of what Donna had assumed was a cupboard, but she now realises is a TARDIS. Small, with no technology for her to have to operate. Probably a good thing considering what's happening to her. But it means she'll be going on a one-way trip, programmed from the Citadel, with no way of returning, even if there was a Gallifrey to return to.

“You're sending me away,” she says slowly.

“We have to.”

Donna can't help the sense of inevitability that is filling her, and yet she's afraid of being alone, particularly with the change that she knows is coming.

“Come with me,” she begs. “Please!”

“I can't.” Romana shakes her head, placing her hands on each of Donna's shoulders and gazing into her eyes. “My place is here – on Gallifrey. But yours, Donnakranoltondusoldar, is out in the Universe you will help to save one day.”

Donna feels the other woman's hand firm on her shoulder, lets herself be guided inside the strange, small box, and then hears the door close.

Everything goes black.

* * *
There's light on the other side of her closed eyelids.

She can hear a soft, regular, slow beep in her ears from what she guesses is a nearby machine and feels the pressure of plastic tubing beneath her nose and across her cheeks. It makes the air she's breathing feel artificial somehow.

It's more pleasant not to breathe.

Opening her eyes a fraction, Donna's sight adjusts almost instantly to the bright whiteness of her surroundings.

She's in bed, lying against the partially raised head, a thin pillow beneath her neck. The air around her feels almost uncomfortably warm, although she knows it would be fine for most of the people who enter this room.

There are three people standing a short distance away. Donna Noble’s mother and grandfather are facing her, but their focus is on the man between them and her.

She eyes the tall, slender figure facing away from her, wondering at the rush of emotions and returning memory that she's feeling at this moment.

Focusing, Donna is finally able to make out the softly spoken conversation.

“But – her heart...” Sylvia's voice is full of fear. “It's beating so slowly – I keep waiting for it to stop! She can't go on like that.”

“I know,” the man in brown says softly, and there's something strangely familiar about his tones and the tension in his voice.

“And she feels so cold! You have to help her,” Wilf pleads, his eyes flickering to the bed, and she sees him start as he meets her gaze before returning his attention to the other man. “Doctor,” he says in a murmur that would have been inaudible before, nodding at Donna.

The other man spins around, his eyes locking with Donna's immediately, and she feels a wave of delighted familiarity washing over.

However she's worried about the anxious expression in his eyes and the wary look on his face.

Momentarily speechless, Donna glances at Wilf, who answers the question he clearly imagines she wanted to ask.

“This is a friend of mine, love,” that man says slowly, as if every word hurts. “You’ve met him once before. His name’s John Smith.”

For a long moment, Donna studies this new face, the brown hair – he’s still not ginger! – stuck up at all angles as if he's just stepped out of a wind tunnel, and dark brown eyes framed by curved brows and long lashes. Horn-rimmed glasses sit halfway down his nose, although Donna knows he doesn't actually need them, any more than she would. Long sideburns. Firm jaw. And she likes the curve of his mouth. It suggests that the playfulness she remembers so fondly may still exist in this incarnation, in spite of the darkness that lurks in his eyes.

And as she studies his face, she realises that her memories of the world of Donna Noble, including her adventures with this incarnation of the Doctor, are receding as if they really were the dreams she had during her epons on Gallifrey.

“No,” she says after a moment, her voice breaking a little, but she forces the sound out so that she can speak clearly, “that’s not his name.”

A frown appears on the strange features and, pulling off his glasses, he takes a step back as if ready to run – and she knows just how good he is at that!

“What do you mean, Donna?” Sylvia asks sharply. “Gramps just told you…”

“He told me what he had to tell me.” Donna smiles a little as her eyes travel between the two humans standing beside her bed. “The lies that had to be told. But not anymore.”

She returns her gaze to ‘John Smith’. How like him to choose something so common, at least on this planet, when his own name has such extraordinary power and meaning.

“He's been gone for so long.” The words are quiet, but filled with a desperate longing. She's not just referring to the months that have passed since he left her behind in Chiswick, but to the epons since he looked at her and knew who she was. “Left me behind.”

“I'm sorry.”

The words tumble out as if he can't help himself, but she knows he still doesn't understand what she really means.

“He has so many names,” she says slowly, watching as belief and understanding begins to blossom in those dark eyes. “Maximus Pettulian. Zeus. Caligari. Quiquaequod. Lord President. James McCrimmon. Spartacus. And,” she goes on before he can interrupt, “other people call him different things, too. Galloway. The Evil One. The Watcher. Bowman. Ka Faraq Gatri. Time’s Champion. The Oncoming Storm. Destroyer of Worlds. Mr ‘Conditional Clause’. Mr Spock. Professor. Dumbo. Spaceman. Gandalf. Pretty Boy. Doc. Even,” she adds, a smile crossing her features, “Sir.”

She watches the emotions chase each other across his face, knowing how the memories he keeps so tightly tucked away are being released in a flood by her words. But she checks any outburst with her next sentence.

“But I only know him by one name.”

She can feel the Time Lord’s thoughts pressing against hers.

One word.

Two syllables.

Doctor.

And she can’t help projecting her answer in return – two words, four syllables – seeing his eyes fill with sudden and surprising tears as he clearly picks up on her thoughts. She’s smiling as she pronounces the words that have been unsaid for so long.

“Theta Sigma.”

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