DW Fic - The Next Doctor and Donna 3/7

[katherine_b]

Title: The Next Doctor and Donna 3/7
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 III

Donna keeps her distance from the funeral procession. She can appreciate that, in this society, she won’t be welcome if she turns up and begins asking questions. Instead she takes a place behind the cemetery wall and watches as the men in their black clothes gather around the open plot.

“Excuse me,” a voice says peremptorily, and Donna turns to find that a horse-drawn carriage has just drawn up.

“Oh,” she moves backwards as she realises she’s standing right in front of the door, “I’m sorry.”

“Hmm.”

The sole occupant of the carriage – a woman in a red dress – gets out and casts a glance at her from head to toe. Then she tosses her head, rather like the horse behind her, and stalks into the cemetery.

Donna steps around the carriage and hurries away along the outside of the cemetery wall. She is about to go around the corner when she looks back at the carriage and sees, for the first time, that it is being driven by a black shaggy animal with the same brass mask as the being that dragged the two Doctors along the floor.

She ducks further behind the wall, but then freezes at the sound of metallic clanging in regular intervals that echoes painfully in her ears.

The fog makes it almost impossible to see, but she thinks she can make out the shape of huge human figures marching in lines. Most of them enter the cemetery by the gate, but others turn away and begin to follow the fences along the outside, tracing Donna’s own path.

She gasps and backs away from the fence, only to find herself colliding painfully with a tree. Sidling around it, she watches as the metallic figures loom ever closer, becoming more visible as they approach.

She’s hugely relieved when they continue around the fence, perhaps heading for a rear gate. Slumping against the tree, she closes her eye and presses her fingers to her forehead, almost overcome by her narrow escape. Then she realises that she can hear the conversation happening at the grave of the Reverend Aubrey Fairchild.

* * *
Sounds from the back of the house draw the Doctor there and he opens the door to find the other Doctor using his ‘sonic screwdriver’ on the lock.

“Hello!” he says cheerfully.

“How did you get in?” the other man demands suspiciously.

The Doctor points over his shoulder in the direction of the front of the house. “Oh, front door.” He grins. “I'm good at doors.”

The other man merely nods and the Doctor looks down at the normal-looking screwdriver, which is held loosely in his hand.

“Um, would you mind my asking, is that your sonic screwdriver?”

There’s a confused smile on the other man’s face as he holds it up in demonstration. “Yes. I'd be lost without it.”

“But,” he pursues the question, “that's a screwdriver. How's it - sonic?”

“Well, uh,” the other Doctor seems slightly stunned before rapping the object on the door jamb, “makes a noise. That's sonic, isn't it? Now,” he steps forward with more authority, “since we're acting like common burglars, I suggest we get out of plain view.”

The Doctor can’t argue with that, but he still feels rather odd at not being in charge of this situation. However he steps aside and closes the door behind the other man. They are silent going up the stairs, but as they enter a large room, the Doctor can’t help coming out with the most immediate question on his mind.

“This investigation of yours, what's it all about?”

“It started with a murder,” comes the ready reply.

“Oh. Good.” And then he realises how that must have sounded. “I mean, bad, but whose?”

The other Doctor appears to be paying no attention to him, instead beginning to look through one of the drawers. “Mr Jackson Lake,” he says. “A teacher of mathematics from Sussex. Came to London three weeks ago and died a terrible death.”

“Cybermen?” the Doctor asks, not unreasonably considering the circumstances, as he takes a seat on a nearby desk.

The other man turns and looks him up and down before continuing his investigation. “It's hard to say. His body was never found. But then it started. More secret murders, then abductions.” He stops, his face working with emotion, before continuing. “Children. Stolen away in silence.”

As if overcome, he strides away from the desk. The Doctor watches him, wondering if the suggestion of children has touched on some emotional trigger. The idea had occurred to the Doctor during their previous conversation in the courtyard, and recurs now, that this man is no Time Lord. Quite apart from anything else, his technology is simply not consistent with what the Doctor knows himself to be capable of.

The only other possibility, apart from the suggestion that he is an ordinary human posing as the Doctor for some reason, is that he has made use of the Chameleon Arch to transform himself into a human, but now his Time Lord status is bleeding through. The Doctor decides that he needs to test his theory as soon as possible. Still, he’ll have to be discreet about it. He suspects that the other Doctor is already suspicious of all his questions.

“So whose house is this?” he asks, attempting to keep his tone light.

“The latest murder. The Reverend Aubrey Fairchild. Found with burns to his forehead.” The other Doctor looks at him evenly, perhaps waiting for some reaction. “Like some advanced form of electrocution.”

“But who was he?” the Doctor demands. “Was he important?”

The whole of the other Doctor’s attention is focused on him now and his tone betrays his suspicions. “You ask a lot of questions.”

The Doctor attempts his most placating smile. “I'm your companion!”

This prompts a faint grin in reply. “The Reverend was the pillar of the community. A member of many parish boards. Keen advocate of children's charities.”

“Children again,” the Doctor says, half to himself. “But why would the Cybermen want him dead? And what's his connection to the first death, this Jackson Lake?”

He notices that the other Doctor has approached and is now standing almost directly in front of him. “It's funny. I seem to be telling you everything. As though you engendered some sort of - trust.” He hesitates for a moment. “You seem familiar, Mr. Smith. I know your face. But how?”

“I wonder.” The Doctor pauses for a moment, his suspicions growing with every passing moment. His eyes flicker down to the gold chain visible across the front of the other Doctor’s vest. “I can't help noticing you're wearing a fob watch.”

The other man looks down and then up again. “Is that important?”

The Doctor gets off the desk and approaches the other Doctor. “Legend has it that the memories of a Time Lord can be contained within a watch.” He holds out his hand. “Do you mind?”

He feels a faint thrill of excitement pass through him as the other man removes the watch and hands it over. He can’t help remembering the incredible feeling of his Time Lord consciousness returning to his body after his own brief period as a human, instantly driving away the fear he had felt as the human John Smith.

This moment, as he feels the cool metal beneath his fingers, his eyes fixed on this other ‘Doctor’, seems to hold all the answers.

“It's said,” he murmurs, his finger pressing lightly on the release catch, “that if it's opened...” and without another word he presses the button.

Something hard and metal drops out of the opened watch and falls to the floor with a dull thud, making both him and the other Doctor start. “Ooh, maybe not...” he admits.

The other Doctor, however, is grinning. “It was more for decoration.”

Both irritated and embarrassed, the Doctor hastily agrees. “Yeah. Anyway, alien infiltration.”

“Yes.” The other Doctor is all business again. “We must look for anything different. Possibly metal. Anything that doesn't seem to belong. Perhaps a mechanical device that can fit no Earthly engine.”

While he’s speaking, the Doctor takes out his sonic screwdriver and begins scanning the furniture at his end of the room.

The other Doctor continues. “It could even seem to be organic. But unlike any organism of the natural world.” But then he suddenly stops. “Shh!” The Doctor rapidly flips the screwdriver in his hand and pockets it before turning around, even as the other Doctor continues, “What's that noise?”

“Oh, it's just me,” he says, attempting to sound cheerful. “Whistling.”

The other man throws the bundle of paper in his hand down onto the desk and shoots him an irritated glance. He’s about to resume his search when the Doctor points at the desk in front of him.

“I wonder what's in here though?”

And before the other Doctor can do more than move in his direction, he flips up the lid of the rolltop desk and peers inside, rapidly snatching up the object that the sonic screwdriver had already identified for him.

“Ah, different and metal, you were right. They are infostamps.” He hesitates and glances at the other man. “I mean, at a guess. And, if I were you,” his finger finds the button and he aims it over his shoulder at a mirror on the wall, “I'd say they worked something like this.”

As soon as he pressed the button, the room is filled with the sound of soft humming. He turns and fishes out his glasses, slipping them on as he eyes the information flashing on the mirror.

“See, compressed information. Tons of it. That is the history of London, 1066 to the present day. This is like a disc, cyber-disc. But,” he frowns to himself, “why would the Cybermen need something so simple? They've got to be wireless! Unless... they're in the wrong century! They haven't got much power. They've been playing the basic infostamps to update themselves!”

And for the first time, he notices that the other Doctor is no longer standing beside him, but has moved away and dropped into a chair.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” comes the husky reply, but it’s obvious to the Doctor that the other man is far from fine. He comes over and bends down in front of the chair, looking up into the other Doctor’s face.

“No, what is it? What's wrong?”

There’s a pause, but when the other man speaks, his tone is grim. “I've seen one of these before. I was holding... this device... the night I lost my mind. The night I regenerated.”

A frown crosses the Doctor’s face. He can see that the other Doctor is on the verge of tears, which solidifies his belief about that man’s heritage.

“The Cybermen! They made me change. My mind, my face, my whole self.” He suddenly reaches out and his palm comes to rest against the Doctor’s cheek. “And you were there!” He glares at the Doctor. “Who are you?”

The Doctor forces himself to be calm. “A friend,” he promises. “I swear.”

“Then,” the other Doctor sounds as if he’s about to cry, “I beg you, John, help me.”

“Ah.” The sound is out of his mouth almost before he’s aware of it. “Two words I never refuse.”

But then he hears a tiny noise and leaps to his feet, suddenly realising how long they’ve been in this house, as well as the potential for danger nearby.

“But,” he says briskly, “not a conversation for a dead man's house. It'll make more sense if we go back to the TARDIS.” He catches himself just in time, glancing over his shoulder to add, “Your, ah, TARDIS.” He moves to the nearest door and opens it. “I just need to do a little final check.”

When there’s nothing there, he moves to the next door, not fully sure what he’s looking for, but suspecting it has something to do with the Cybermen.

“Won't take a tic. 'Cause there's one more thing I can't believe. If this room's got infostamps, then maybe, just maybe, it's got something that needs infostamping.”

He’s not particularly surprised when he opens the next door to find a Cyberman standing on the other side.

“Okay.” He shuts the door and turns to his silent companion. “I think we should run.”

Rushing to the far side of the room, he hears the door being broken down, even as he grabs the other Doctor’s shoulder and hauls him out of his seat.

“Come on, Doctor! Now! Look!”

The grim sound of ‘Delete’ echoes behind them as he shoves the other man through a door and then locks it with the sonic screwdriver. However a second Cyberman appears in the hall before they can escape and they have to go further into the house, away from the comparative safety of the exits.

“The Doctor will be deleted,” one of the Cybermen announces.

The Doctor grabs the other man’s arm and directs him towards the staircase. “Stairs! Come on, we'll lead them outside!”

He messes about uselessly with an umbrella for a moment before snatching a scabbard off the wall and unsheathing the blade inside, turning to the Cybermen and feeling better with something to defend himself.

“Ah! I'm a dab hand with a cutlass. You don't want to come near me when I've got one of these. This is your last warning.” He can tell they aren’t paying attention – well, really, when do they? – and backs up several stairs, repeating his warning. “No? Okay, this is really your last warn – okay!”

He gives up and bolts back several stairs. The Cybermen follow, chanting their monotonous threats of ‘Delete’. He turns on them as he reaches the middle landing and tries to plead, even though he knows it will be in vain.

“Listen to me properly! Whatever you're doing, it’s not going to make any difference.” He groans as he fends off an attack. “I can help! I mean it! I'm the only one in the world who can help you! Listen to me!”

“Delete,” drones the Cyberman, knocking the cutlass to one side.

“I'm the Doctor,” he cries out, infuriated enough to forget the charade. “You need me,” he insists angrily. “Check your memory banks! My name's the Doctor!” He shoots a glance in the other man’s direction, no longer doubting himself. “Leave this man alone!”

And then he’s on his back, the Cyberman looming over him. He places his feet on its chest and pushes the steel figure away.

“The Doctor is me!” he insists as he rolls to his feet. “I'm the Doctor, remember?” he goes on, groaning again as they attack him once more. “I'm the Doctor! You need me alive. You need the Doctor and that's me!”

And then the Cyberman grabs the cutlass in both hands and throws it away, leaving the Doctor defenceless.

He’s panting for breath, waiting for the final strike and mentally preparing himself to regenerate, wishing desperately that Donna was here with him because he doesn’t want to go through it alone, when suddenly there’s a flash of bluish-white light from behind him. It strikes one of the Cybermen in the face and both massive machines begin to twitch and shudder.

The Doctor scrambles to his feet behind the other man, who is holding the infostamp in both hands like a gun. The Cyberman drop to their knees, holding their heads, which then explode, sending tiny pieces of shrapnel bouncing off the walls and the ceiling.

He stares at the bodies of the Cybermen for a moment before turning to the other Doctor. He’s about to congratulate him when he sees the look of devastation in his face and remembers the pretence.

He’d like very much to strip away the façade now and reveal the other Doctor for the man he believes him to be, but this is neither the time nor the place. He also knows it will take concrete proof to persuade the other man of the truth behind his situation. Mere supposition, even that of a Time Lord, won’t be enough to do it.

“Infostamp with a cyclo-stone core!” he announces proudly. “You ripped open the core and broke the safety! Zap! Hah, only the Doctor would think of that!”

Then he notices that the other man is shaking. “I did that,” he says softly. “Last time.”

“Come here,” the Doctor orders gently, fishing in the pocket of his coat. “You’ll be okay. Let me just check,” and he extracts a stethoscope.

When the other man looks up again, his gaze is accusing. “You told them you were the Doctor. Why did you do that?”

“Oh,” he says carefully, “just protecting you.”

As he places the stethoscope bell against the other Doctor’s chest, that man speaks again in emotional tones. “You tried to take away the only thing I've got. Like they did. They stole something. Something so precious,” and he begins to cry in earnest. “But... I can't remember. What happened to me. What did they do?”

And the Doctor knows the truth now. He looks up at the other man.

“We'll find out,” he promises, removing the stethoscope. “You and me together.”

Next Part

Links to earlier parts: Part 1 Part 2