The road less travelled...

Title: The Next Doctor and Donna 1/7
Author: katherine_b
Characters/Pairing: The Doctor (Ten), Donna, the next Doctor, Rosita
Rating: G
Spoilers: Everything in The Next Doctor and some things for NuWho S4.
A/N: After prompting by time_converges, and after typing up a transcript of the 2008 Christmas special, this is my version of The Next Doctor as if the Doctor and Donna were still travelling together after JE. Please be warned that this may either reconcile you to certain parts of that episode (as it did to me) or make it unwatchable as, in the real version, as we know, there is no Donna…

Part I

The Doctor watches Donna close the door of the TARDIS before he sends them into the vortex, sealing the opening to the parallel world as they go. Then he steps back from the controls and waits.

However she doesn’t move to take his place, as he had expected. Instead she stops in front of him.

“Doctor?”

He stares at her in silence, temporarily wrong-footed.

“I know what’s happening,” she says quietly. “And I know that you do, too.”

“Then you know what I have to do,” he whispers.

“No.” She gathers his hands in hers. “I know what you think you have to do. But there’s another solution. I,” she flinches and pain sweeps across her face, but she continues, “I’ll need your help though. And your permission.”

He frowns, feeling the seconds tick away. They don’t have time for this. Any instant now, she’ll begin to fail as the second mind overwhelms her.

And then he sees her lift his hands to her temples, holding them firmly against her warm skin. Her blue eyes stare into his as if she’s looking right through him.

“Ready?”

“Donna, what – ?”

“Just – now!” she cries, her eyes slamming shut.

And then he feels a huge wave of pressure in his mind, as if she’s throwing all of her thoughts into his head. He grasps at once what she’s doing and instantly opens his mind so that he can absorb the rapid wave of thoughts, memories and emotions that are flowing out of Donna.

In the back of his mind, he thinks that it feels like the time he absorbed the time vortex from Rose. However, unlike then, he knows that this won’t kill him or cause him to regenerate. His mind absorbs what it’s receiving without hesitation.

He’s amazed that he hadn’t thought of this himself.

And then he feels Donna’s hands drop from his and he just manages to catch her as she falls.

He simply holds her against him for a long moment, his face buried in her hair, before sliding his arms beneath her knees and under her shoulders, lifting her into his arms.

He can’t help thinking how she would tease him if she could see him now. Skinny streak of nothing, she would say. Where did you get all those muscles from, hey?

He barely notices that he’s smiling at the thought as he carries her into the medical bay, gently placing her unconscious form on the bed and turning on every machine that he thinks will help.

The minutes slip by almost agonisingly slowly.

He checks the machines showing Donna’s heart rate and the readings of her brain scan for the umpteenth time. He’s more afraid that he can remember being for a long time.

Afraid both that this has worked and that it hasn’t.

If it’s worked, but Donna transferred too much of her mind into his, she’ll be left empty and devoid of thought and emotion, like a processed Ood. There would be no way to give it back to her without returning everything, and that would kill her.

If it doesn’t work, he isn’t sure he’ll have enough time to block it all out before her overstrained brain gives out.

But he won’t know until she wakes up.

And then, in the back of his mind, he feels as her subconscious begins to stir.

He leans over the bed, taking her limp hand in his and smoothing her hair with the fingers of his other hand.

“Donna?” he prompts gently, giving her a mental nudge at the same moment, and watching out of the corner of his eye as the activity on the brain scan increases.

She moans softly, her tongue sliding out of her mouth to moisten her lips. Her eyelids twitch for a moment and then, as he’s starting to get concerned, they lift and he gazes into her sleepy, blue eyes. There’s a moment of hesitation before recognition flickers in them and then she smiles.

“Hey, Spaceman.”

The words are almost inaudible, but the grin that streaks across the Doctor’s face as he hears them is so wide that his cheeks hurt, because now he knows that neither of his nightmares has come true.

“Hey, Earth Girl,” he says in reply. “How are you feeling?”

She blinks quickly several times – he can feel the echoes of memory returning in her mind – and then focuses on him again. “Pretty good, all things considered,” she replies, her voice strengthening with every word. “Any chance of a drink?”

“Of course!”

He looks around and sees that a glass containing crushed ice is sitting on a small table at his elbow. Mentally blessing the TARDIS for her thoughtfulness, he lets go of her hand and picks up the spoon sitting beside the glass, scooping up several small pieces of ice and spooning them in between her lips.

As she lets out a small moan of relief, he raises the head of the bed so that she’s sitting up.

“Did it work then?” she asks in a somewhat muffled voice.

He smiles. “You tell me. After all, it was your idea.”

She stares at the ceiling for a moment before nodding slowly. “It’s all gone.”

He sets the glass down on the table. “Yes,” he agrees. “It is.”

“Everything’s gone.” Her voice is suddenly wistful. “All of it.”

The Doctor covers her hands with his. “There was no other way.”

“Doesn’t mean that I can’t miss it.” She half-smiles, but her eyes, as she looks at him, are terribly sad. “All that knowledge of time and space – it was wonderful!”

“It doesn’t change you,” he says, believing that he understands the root cause of her unhappiness. “You’re still as brilliant as you ever were.”

“It’s so – ” She pauses for a moment, trying to find the right word. “Quiet,” she says at last.

“All that noise and interference was what nearly killed you,” he reminds her.

She frowns and he wonders what she’s thinking. It’s safe to say that her next words are a million miles away from what he expected.

“I want to hear it again.”

He feels his hearts leap into his throat and he unknowingly tightens his grip on her hands.

“But Donna…”

“I mean it, Doctor.” She sighs. “I can’t bear the silence, not now that I know exactly how much is out there. There’s an emptiness in my mind where it all was and I miss it.”

He sits down on the edge of the bed and looks into her eyes, measuring how honest she’s really being with him. There’s no suggestion of uncertainty in her voice or her face and he realises that she means it.

“Everything?” he asks softly. “It might be too much for you.”

She squeezes his fingers. “If it is, I promise that you can take it away again. But at least let me try.”

He can’t help himself. After what just happened, he’d probably try to give her every star in the Universe if she asked for it. So this, which is a personal but simple gift, should be easy.

And in the end, for once, he decides to make it so.

“Oh, all right.”

He gives in with a sigh, resettles himself so that he’s facing her, and gently removes his hands from her hold, lifting them to her temples and closing his eyes.

As he finds himself within her mind, he can understand her desire to hear the world as he does. Considering what it was like before, when she was the DoctorDonna, this is almost agonisingly silent. He gently removes the barrier that keeps her from detecting the swirl of emotion and sound surrounding him, and he hears a faint sigh on the edge of his subconscious as he lets it all sweep in on her.

He waits for a long moment, his mind locked with hers, feeling for points of stress that would suggest a problem.

But finally he allows himself to believe that it might just be okay and he relaxes, opening his eyes again.

Her eyes are damp when she looks at him, but there’s a smile on her face as if she’s welcoming back an old friend.

“Better?” he asks softly, his hands in readiness to whisk it all away again if it’s too much.

She nods. “Much,” she says simply, and he relaxes at her tone, letting his hands drop back into his lap.

“It’s not…” He pauses for a moment. “You’re not the DoctorDonna anymore. You don’t have all the knowledge that you had then. What you’re hearing is just an echo.”

She smiles. “It’s enough,” she tells him, and he can hear the tone of satisfaction in her voice.

Half an hour later, she insists on getting up and, within an hour, they’re back in the console room.

“I’m fine,” she snaps as he expresses his concern for the twenty-second time. “But you won’t be if you ask me again!”

However there’s a twinkle in her eye and a tiny smile on her face as she says it, so he knows she doesn’t mean it. Well, not much. Maybe just a bit.

“Right then,” he says briskly as he flicks several switches on the console, “where do you want to go first?”

However he can’t help the way he grins across at her, his hearts filled with delight at having her there. He had expected the TARDIS to be terrifyingly empty after they left everyone behind, but Donna is managing to fill that space in her own, inimitable fashion.

“Hmm.” Donna looks thoughtful. “Know who I'd like to meet? Charlie Chaplin! I bet he's great.”

The Doctor chuckles. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever met him. But all right, if you say so. Only – when?”

“What do you mean, ‘when’?”

“Well, at what point in his life? Before he’s famous, or once he already is?”

“Ooh, know what I’d love?” A longing expression appears on Donna’s face. “I’d love to see him filming my favourite Chaplin film, Limelight. I could ask him what happened to Thereza and Neville, if they got married and lived happily ever after.”

“Donna, you do realize it’s just a story,” he demands impatiently. “They’re just characters – they’re not real people.”

“I bet he’d know though,” she argues, smiling. “Writers always seem to know what their characters get up to ‘off screen’, as it were. And I want to find out.”

“All right then!” The Doctor enters data into the computer, flicks switches and spins one of the dials (he likes that one – it doesn’t actually do anything, but it looks really effective!). “It came out in 1952, didn’t it? Then they were probably filming in 1951. So – Hollywood in 1951. And let’s just hope,” he pulls a face, “that I’m more successful in getting to America than I was last time.”

Donna chuckles. “That was the time you and Rose tried to go the Elvis concert, yeah? That was a bit of a disaster.”

He frowns. “I didn’t think you’d remember that. Any of that!”

She casts him a look he can only describe as sympathetic and he wonders at that and the guilt lurking in her eyes.

“I kept a couple of your memories,” she admits. “The happy ones. The ones where you were smiling or laughing.” She sighs. “Maybe I shouldn’t have. I mean, they are yours. I know that. And,” she studies the floor of the TARDIS, “you could take them back if you want to. But,” she ventures a tentative glance in his direction, “I don’t think you’ve had a lot of laughter in your life, and I thought it might be nice for you to have someone around who could remind you of those times.”

The Doctor lets his hands slip off the controls and he walks around the console until he’s in front of Donna, who’s staring at the floor again, guilt etched on her face. He can feel her tense as he comes to a halt in front of her and he can tell she thinks he’s about to take those last few memories away.

He places one hand on her shoulder and slides the other under her chin, raising it with gentle pressure until she’s looking at him.

“You,” he says firmly, but with a smile growing ever wider on his face, “are brilliant. That’s what you are, Donna Noble. Absolutely brilliant. And don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She looks at him rather uncertainly. “You don’t mind then?”

He pulls her into his arms. “I think it’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me,” he says, and means it.

She returns the embrace so fiercely that he’s momentarily grateful for the respiratory bypass system.

“Thank you,” is all she says however.

Just as the Doctor feels himself relaxing into the hug, the TARDIS beeps to let them know that they have arrived.

“Right then,” he says briskly, stepping away from Donna to grab his duster and then holding out his hand in invitation, “shall we go and see Charlie?”

Donna slides her fingers between his, gives him the sort of smile he thinks he’ll never get sick of seeing, and grabs her coat as she follows him out of the door.

“Ooh, now this is brilliant!” he announces as he steps out of the TARDIS onto the cobbles under the stone archway. “Very nice indeed!”

Donna follows him outside and hurriedly pulls on her coat. “Not bad,” she admits. “Actually, rather nice. Bit quaint though. Still, I like the weather.”

The Doctor arches an eyebrow. “Donna, need I remind you – you hate snow!”

“No.” She prods him gently in the chest. “I hate coming upon snow unawares. This is – ooh, it’s pretty! Although,” she takes his proffered hand and walks with him into the square, which is full of market stalls and traders, “it doesn’t look much like the film.”

“Could be we’ve landed on a different part of the lot.”

Donna pokes him in the arm. “You sure you didn’t land us somewhere else entirely?”

He turns and frowns. “Why do you say that?”

She gestures with her free hand. “This all sounds a bit too British for us to be in Hollywood. Looks pretty British, too, I have to say. I don’t know that America embraced some of our traditions. I mean, you’ve got carol singers and everything! ”

“Could be a film set,” he suggests hopefully. “Still, no harm in asking.”

He lets go of her hand and catches the attention of a young child who is standing near on one of the stalls.

“You there, boy, what day is this?”

“Christmas Eve, sir,” comes the ready reply.

“Christmas Eve?” Donna echoes from behind him. “Were we aiming for that then?” And then, is a slightly more menacing voice, “Is this some trick of yours to make me like Christmas, Spaceman?”

“And what year?” the Doctor asks hurriedly, hoping to delay the inevitable argument.

“You thick or something?” the young boy demands, and the Doctor looks insulted, even as he hears Donna chuckle, which makes his ears redden, and he retorts more sharply than usual.

“Oi! Just answer the question.”

The boy gives a satisfied grin, as if pleased to have got a response from him. “The year of our Lord 1851, sir.”

“Right.” He turns to Donna with a smile. “Nice year. Bit dull.”

“Eighteen fifty-one?” she echoes. “Eighteen fifty one?”

“Ah.” He suddenly realises his mistake. “Oh. Yes.”

She whacks him on the arm. “You were out by an entire bloody century!”

“Well…”

“Doctor!”

The cry from the far side of the square distracts both of them – much to the Doctor’s secret relief – and they exchange puzzled glances.

“Who, me?” the Doctor demands, somewhat inanely.

“Doctor!” comes the call again, sounding more urgent than before.

This prompts them both into action and the Doctor takes off, Donna hard on his heels.

They come to a halt in a nearby alley, where a woman is standing in front of a banging door.

“Doctor!” she bellows as they approach, and the Doctor immediately takes charge.

“Right then, don't worry. Stand back. What've we got here?” He eyes the door, which, judging by the way it’s rocking on its hinges, is clearly being pushed by something very heavy on the other side. “Ooh, okay, I've got it, and whatever's behind that door, I think you should get out of here.”

“Doctor!” the strange woman calls again, much to his confusion.

He turns to her. “Hold on, I'm standing right here. Hello!”

“Don’t be stupid!” she snaps. “Who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor,” he says immediately, with a certain degree of impatience.

“Doctor who?”

“Just the Doctor.”

“Well,” she retorts, “there can’t be two of you!”

And then, as both he and Donna gape at her, a man comes running along the alley and joins them.

“Where the hell have you been?” the other woman demands.

And, just as the Doctor did a moment earlier, this man, too, takes charge.

“Right then, don't worry. Stand back. What've we got here?”

“Hold on, hold on,” the Doctor demands. “Who are you?”

The reply leaves him speechless. “I’m the Doctor,” he announces proudly. “Simply the Doctor. The one, the only,” he winks flirtatiously at Donna, “and the best."

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