The road less travelled...

Title: The Next Doctor and Donna 2/7
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.

Part II

Donna eyes this new Doctor with interest. She isn’t blind to the way he’s treating her and rather wonders at it. If this is the Doctor – and she can only imagine that it must be a future incarnation if her Doctor failed to recognise him immediately – then he’s behaving very differently towards her from the way the man beside her generally reacts.

She studies his face. He’s clearly a well-educated and high-class gentleman. Both his clothes and his voice mark him out as such. She can’t help the way her eyes slide to his left hand. No wedding ring. Interesting.

But she has the immediate feeling that there’s something wrong.

After a moment, she thinks she knows what it is.

In the back of her mind, she can hear the constant babble of the Doctor’s thoughts, and echoes of his emotions trickle through her at intervals if they’re strong enough or if she concentrates on them.

But from this Doctor, there’s silence.

Okay, not quite silence, but nothing more than comes from any other human man.

It’s strange.

She watches him through narrow eyes as he takes his place in front of the Doctor – her Doctor – with a grandiose flourish.

There’s definitely something wrong here.

* * *
The Doctor’s mouth is open to speak – although he has no idea what he’s about to say – when the stranger continues. “Rosita, give me the sonic screwdriver.”

“The what?” he demands, and hears Donna echo the question.

However the other man ignores them. “Now, quickly,” he tells the woman he addressed as ‘Rosita’, “get back the TARDIS.”

“Back to the what?” the Doctor asks.

And now the man pays attention to him, flinging an arm out to keep him away. “If you could stand back, sir, this is a job for a Time Lord.”

“Job for a what Lord?” he can’t help asking.

The Doctor steps back under the pressure of the other man’s arm. He frowns as he does so, feeling strangely out of control in this situation.

The fact that Donna is almost bent double with her attempts to suppress her laughter isn’t helping.

And he knows exactly what she’s thinking.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Sorry, Donna, this is way beyond you!”

He glares at her over his shoulder and she turns away, her shoulders shaking violently.

And then the door in front of which he’s standing finally gives way under the pressure of the being on the other side and a creature appears out of the darkness. The Doctor immediately recognises a mask almost identical to those worn by the Cybermen and leaps back.

“Oh, that’s new,” he exclaims, and hears his words echoed by the man standing beside him.

He fishes out the sonic screwdriver and points it at the strange hybrid. “Allons-y,” he cries, and again, there’s that echo. He and the other Doctor exchange confused, somewhat hostile glances before turning back to the opening in the wall.

Something black and hairy, the bronzed Cyberman mask looking strangely out of place, scurries out of the hole. The Doctor feels hands on his arms and realises that Rosita is half-hidden behind him, watching the alien creature.

However it’s the other Doctor who speaks. “I've been hunting this beast for a good fortnight now. Stand back!”

But then the ‘beast’ leaps several stories up the vertical wall without no visible effort and the Doctor’s mouth drops open.

“Some sort of primitive conversion,” he suggests, thinking aloud. “Like it took the brain of a cat or dog.”

“What are you going to do?” Donna asks, but her words are interrupted by the other Doctor.

“Well, talking’s all very well. Rosita!”

And Rosita hurries over with a coil of rope over her shoulder. “I’m ready,” she tells him as she hands it to the other Doctor.

“And now,” the stranger says with a smirk, “watch and learn!”

The Doctor can’t help but be impressed that he lassos the Cyber-creature on the first attempt. However he has no need to say anything, as the other Doctor is quick to pat himself on the back. The Doctor has a moment of hoping that he’s not quite as conceited as the man in front of him.

“Excellent! Now then, let's pull this timorous beastie down to Earth.”

And it’s obvious that he’s going to try that very thing, except that the ‘timorous beastie’ goes in the other direction and the other man’s feet are suddenly no longer on the ground.

“Or not,” the Doctor murmurs to Donna, who sniggers at his remark.

“Ah. I might be in a little bit of trouble,” the other Doctor suggests.

“Nothing changes,” the Doctor grins, before grabbing the end of the rope, wrapping it around his wrist. “I’ve got you!”

And then suddenly he’s swept off his feet and is hanging on for dear life as both he and the other Doctor are dragged up the wall. He can hear Donna’s hoots of laughter from behind him and wishes, just once, that she wasn’t there to witness this humiliation.

Rosita, it must be admitted, isn’t much help. “You idiot!” she yells at them.

The Doctor hopes fervently that she’s not speaking to him.

“Perhaps if you could pull...” the other Doctor suggests from above him.

“I am pulling!” the Doctor complains indignantly. “In this position, I couldn't not pull, could I?”

“Then I suggest you let go, sir,” comes the helpful voice from above him.

“I'm not letting you out of my sight, Doctor!” he retorts, then he can’t help asking curiously, “Don't you recognise me?”

“No,” the other Doctor gasps breathlessly. “Should I? Have we met? This is hardly the right time for me to go through my social calendar!”

Before there’s a chance for further conversation, the cyber-creature hauls them both up and through a window into a huge warehouse. They’re dragged along the hard, dusty floor, and then the Doctor realises that the beast is headed for a window.

“It’s going to jump!”

“We’re going to fall!” the other Doctor yells in agreement.

And then, before either can do anything to release themselves, Rosita looms out of the shadows and swings an axe that cuts the rope. There’s a dull thud from outside the window and Donna darts over to look out, even as both Doctors pick themselves up off the floor, rubbing their painful backsides and hooting with laughter.

“It’s gone,” Donna announces, her lips twitching as she turns back. “Hit the ground – hard – but still kept running. It should be safe enough for us to leave now.”

And she gives in and giggles as she comes over to them, even as the two Doctors embrace. “All right, you two? You looked like Indiana Jones, hanging off the rope like that!”

Fortunately, the other Doctor doesn’t appear to have heard, but the Doctor smirks. “Worse people to look like,” he suggests.

She grins. “Probably, yeah.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Rosita complains, and then nods in the direction of the stairs. “That way.”

“Er, right,” the other Doctor suggests. “Yes. Let’s go.”

And they make their way down the several flights of stairs to a small, enclosed courtyard, both Doctors and Donna still chortling as they do so.

“Well,” Rosita finally explodes as they stop in front of a brazier, “I'm glad you think it's so funny! You're mad, both of you! You could of got killed.”

The other Doctor seems to recover first and turns to her. “But evidently we did not. Oh, I should introduce Rosita. My faithful companion, always telling me off.”

The Doctor nods knowingly. “Well, they do, don't they?” He ignores Donna’s indignant ‘Oi!’ and gives the other woman his best smile. “Rosita. Good name. Hello, Rosita.”

“Snap out of it, you soppy Martian,” mutters Donna from behind him.

However Rosita ignores both of them, clearly focused on her own indignation. “Huh. Now I'll have to go and dismantle the traps. All that for nothing. And we've only got twenty minutes to the funeral, don't forget. Then back to the TARDIS, right?”

“Funeral?” the Doctor asks curiously.

“Oh, long story,” the other Doctor is quick to assure him, warming his hands at the fire. “Not my own, not yet. I'm not as young as I was.”

The Doctor can’t help the grin that streaks across his face. “Not as young as you were when you were me.”

He can tell that Donna understands his meaning, but the other Doctor is clearly at a loss. “When I was who?”

The Doctor feels his own certainty and excitement begin to fade. “You really don't recognise me?”

“Not at all!”

“But you're the Doctor!” he exclaims eagerly. “The next Doctor. Or the next but one. Future Doctor anyway. No, no don't tell me how it happened. Although - hope I don't just trip over a brick. That'd be embarrassing. Then again - painless. Worse ways to go. Depends on the brick.”

Donna snickers loudly, but the stranger cuts him off before he can say anything to her.

“You're gabbling, sir. And, might I ask, who are you exactly?”

This brings the Doctor up short and he stares for a moment before replying. “No, I'm - ah – I’m Smith, John Smith.”

“And your associate?”

The Doctor realises he’s talking about Donna and steps back, waving her forward. “This is a… a friend of mine. Donna,” he says carefully, glancing at Donna in the hope that she’ll understand why he’s not using her last time.

She nods very slightly and reaches forward to shake the other Doctor’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Doctor,” she says to the stranger, grinning as he raises her hand to his lips.

In spite of the irritation the Doctor feels with the other man for his actions, he wants to hug Donna for being so quick.

Instead he turns back to the other Doctor and gives what he hopes is a placating smile. “I've heard all about you, Doctor.” And, the grin widening, “Bit of a legend, if I may say so myself.”

He hears Donna spluttering behind him, although she covers it quickly with a fake cough, but the other Doctor appears not to have noticed.

“Modesty forbids me to agree with you, sir,” he says. “But yes. Yes, I am”

The Doctor watches him somewhat warily. “A legend with - certain memories missing. Am I right?”

“How do you know that?”

He can’t help the way a certain wistfulness creeps into his voice. “You’ve forgotten me…”

There’s sorrow in the other Doctor’s voice when he speaks again. “Great swathes of my life have been stolen away. When I turn my mind to the past, there's nothing.”

“Going how far back?” the Doctor demands.

“Since the Cybermen.” He sighs, and the Doctor waits for him to continue. “Masters of the hellish warscuttler and old enemies of mine. Now at work in London Town. You won't believe this, Mr. Smith, but they are creatures from another world.”

The Doctor exchanges mildly amused glances with Donna before he tries, and fails, to express surprise. “Really? Wow.”

However he’s glad to see that the other Doctor has apparently paid no attention and now continues to speak of his experiences. “'Tis said they fell onto London. Out of the sky in a blaze of light. And they found me.”

He pauses for a moment, and the Doctor remembers his own experiences with the Cybermen, most recently in the parallel world where Pete Tyler was still alive. He can’t help wondering whether, when the other Doctor makes reference to the Cybermen ‘falling on London’, he means it in the literal or the figurative sense.

“Something was taken,” the other Doctor continues. “And something was lost.” He stares into the fire for a moment before looking up again, his gaze eager. “What was I like in the past?”

“Wh... I... I don't think I should say,” the Doctor replies reluctantly. “Sorry. Gotta be careful with memory loss. One wrong word...”

“Strange, though,” comes the reply, and the Doctor can’t help thinking that his tone is suspicious. “I talk of cyber men from the stars and you don't blink, Mr. Smith.

“Ah, don't blink!”

The Doctor can’t help his reaction to the memory that these words have summoned, and he’s certain that the other Doctor must remember something or he would never have said it.

“Remember that?” he asks excitedly. “Whatever you do, don't blink? With the blinking and the statues and Sally and the angels and - no?”

The stranger eyes him curiously “You're a very odd man.”

“He certainly is,” Donna agrees idly.

“Mm, still am,” the Doctor says, eying the other man from head to foot and speaking more to Donna than him. “Something's wrong here...”

“Oh, the funeral!” The stranger’s swift change of topic is almost stunning. “The funeral's at two o'clock. It's been a pleasure, Mr. Smith. Don't breathe a word of it.”

“Oh, but can't I come with you?” the Doctor asks eagerly. He doesn’t want to lose sight of this other Doctor until he works out the truth about him.

“Far too dangerous. Rest assured, I shall keep this city safe. Oh, and, uh, Merry Christmas, Mr. Smith.”

“Merry Christmas, Doctor.”

And the Doctor watches him leave before turning to Donna, whose face is bright red with her attempts at smothering her laugher.

“Well?” he demands impatiently. “What’s wrong with you?”

“‘Bit of a legend’,” she hoots, leaning feebly against the stair railing. “Talk ourselves up much, do we, Mr. High-and-Mighty?”

“Oi, Time Lord, remember?” he protests, feebly waving the remnants of his tattered ego, although he learned a long time ago that to do so never impresses Donna.

“All right.” She recovers and straightens up. “Enough of your posing and posturing, mate. So now what? You’re worried about him, aren’t you?”

“Mmm.” He nods and takes her hand as they follow the path of the other Doctor’s footsteps. “He shouldn’t have forgotten that much, no matter who or what got to him. He might have forgotten me. I mean, after this many changes, you do sort of tend not to pay that much attention to the face in the mirror. Even when you look like this. But you – Donna, there’s no way I would have forgotten you!”

She smiles somewhat sadly. “Unless someone wiped your – his – memory.”

“Oi!” He nudges her with his elbow. “None of that! Didn’t happen. Won’t happen, thanks to your genius. Let’s focus on the problem at hand rather than ‘might have beens’.”

“So what do you want to do then?”

“For now, I want to know what the Doctor and Rosita are up to. Ah, look,” he notices them standing in front of a house and watching a funeral cortege pass by, “there they are. Here, duck down here. Can you hear them?”

“Bits and pieces.” She closes her eyes and he can almost see her focusing on the faint murmuring from across the street. He’s ready to help, to magnify the sound for her, but then she nods. “More now.”

“Good.” And he turns his own attention to the conversation.

“Now, with the house empty,” the other Doctor is saying, “I shall affect an entry at the rear while you go back to the TARDIS. This is hardly work for a woman.”

The expression on Donna’s face as he glances at her is a reflection of the appalled fury on Rosita’s.

“Oh, don't mind me saving your life,” Rosita declares indignantly. “That's work for a woman, isn't it?

“The Doctor's companion does what the Doctor says,” says the other Doctor with surprising calmness.

“Just try it on, mate,” Donna hisses, and the Doctor has to choke down a giggle at the thought of Donna obeying his directions in such a willing manner.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he replies meekly, once his voice is under control.

“All a woman’s good for is saving the Universe, I suppose,” Donna remarks acidly. Then she nods in the direction of the departing pair. “You’re going with that other Doctor into the house, aren’t you? Then,” as he nods, “I’m going to check out the funeral. Seems to me that there could be some excitement.”

The Doctor sighs, and then summons a smile. “Suppose I can’t stop you, can I? All right, but here,” he fishes a key on a chain out of his pocket and holds it out to her, “this should mean the Cybermen will leave you alone. I’ve enhanced the TARDIS’ natural perception filter on it. Just – don’t draw attention to yourself. And don’t try to mingle with the other mourners. Women at funerals were very much looked down on. Well, are. Now.”

“Where do you want to meet back afterwards?”

“Ooh, good point.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully, and then rolls his eyes in irritation at his own stupidity. “I must be getting old. The key will be able to point you in the right direction. Hot or cold. And keep your ears open. You’ll hear me – or at least my thoughts – when you get close enough.”

“Right-o then.”

She gives his hand a farewell squeeze and is suddenly gone among the crowds on the busy street. Shaking his head, the Doctor looks up to see the other Doctor skulking around the back of the house from which the coffin left only a short time earlier. He strolls up to the front door, sonics the lock and lets himself inside.

Next Part

Links to earlier parts: Part 1