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Title: Rolling Out The Red Carpet 1/3
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katherine_b
Rating: G
Summary: The Doctor might have to do something that goes totally against the grain.
Characters: Ten, Donna and a bunch of aliens
A/N: As a result of matching the winning bid at the Support Stacie auction,wiggiemomsi was allowed to give me a prompt and a get a 5,000+ word fic from me as well. She asked for: “Ten and Donna land on a planet where the natives see her red hair and decide she's the goddess that legend says will rule over them. They nab her, and when the Doctor finds her, she's enjoying her new role ... maybe a bit too much!”
A/N 2: Gorgeous title graphic made bysonicgirl2005.
Part I
“This,” the Doctor decides aloud as he sees Donna’s ginger hair receding into the distance, surrounded by a troop of squeaking Zingiberians, “might not have been the best decision I ever made.”
Behind him, the TARDIS groans agreement, and he grumpily kicks it with the sole of his cream converse.
“I didn’t ask for commentary,” he snaps. “And I don’t suppose you have any ideas how I can get her back!”
Silence from his trusty blue box proves his point, and, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he trudges in the same direction as the group who took away his companion.
He can’t help thinking that part of the reason he’s so unhappy is because she went with them so willingly.
Things had been going so well until that moment.
He had thrown open the TARDIS doors on yet another new planet, and Donna had been suitably impressed by Zingiber’s beauty, with its rolling purple hills, endless expanse of yellow sky, and blue trees.
When some of the locals turned up, with their dark brown skins and the rounded ears on top of their heads, Donna had checked with him in an undertone that they weren’t related to mice and, once he promised they weren’t, she had been willing to engage them in conversation.
And then, as the silver sun climbed higher in the sky and the air around them had warmed, before he could move to stop her, she had thrown back the green scarf covering her hair – and that was when the trouble had started.
“Doctor,” she had demanded in an undertone as they had begun to paw at her ginger tresses, “what’s going on?”
“Ah, you see,” he’d told her rather reluctantly, “that’s the odd thing about this planet. They don’t have anything red on it. Never have had. And your hair – it’s almost certainly the first red thing any of them have ever seen.”
“You couldn’t have warned me before?” she had begun, before the Zingiberians had suddenly all dropped to their knees around her, apart from one which had bowed low and then kissed her hand.
And that had been the moment when the Doctor really knew they were in trouble.
Well, he was, because Donna didn’t seem all the bothered.
In fact, as she had taken two of the many hands held out to her and was escorted away, she had seemed rather to like it, at least if the smirk she sent back in his direction was any guide!
The walls of Zingiber City finally loom ahead of him and he quickens his pace in order to get there before the sun, which he can see setting, finally slips beneath the horizon.
Unfortunately, a small cluster of spears blocks his entrance through the gate, and he can see the rather menacing looks on the faces of the guards that tells him this won’t be easy as he’d hoped.
“Who are you?” the Zingiberian with the longest and, as the Doctor touches it to check, definitely the sharpest spear demands.
“Ah,” the Doctor pats his pockets, finally locating his trusty psychic paper, “yes, I’m a guest, special visitor, you know, here to see the woman who you brought here earlier.”
“The woman?” the chief guard demands. “What woman?”
“Oh, you know.” The Doctor’s fingers finally close down on the leather wallet and he pulls it out in relief. “The person with red hair.”
“You mean our Queen?” the Zingiberian shoots back in meaningful tones, and the Doctor feels anxiety begin to gnaw at the pit of his stomach.
This situation has just gone from bad to worse.
“Yes, that’s right!” he says with an enthusiasm he certainly doesn’t feel. “Her. I have a special message. See?” He offers the psychic paper. “Right here.”
The Zingiberians all lean forward to squint at the paper, and the Doctor feels his hearts sink as they look from it to him. A moment later, he understands their actions, and also the reason there are no signs anywhere to tell him where he is, which is also why psychic paper is going to be useless here.
“You can’t read this,” he suggests, gesturing with the leather folder, “because there’s no writing in your language.”
“What,” the head Zingiberian asks in obvious confusion, “is ‘writing’?”
“Never mind.” The Doctor slaps the leather folder shut and slides it back into his pocket. “Can I at least come into the city for the night?”
Before the guard can respond, a loud clanging from above the Doctor’s head makes him look up to see a bell being rung. Somehow he knows what the response to his question will be even before the Zingiberian speaks.
“The curfew is enacted. The city is closed.” The guards sidle backwards just as a massive gate drops down, almost trapping the Doctor beneath it. He leaps back just in time as the guard continues, “Try again in the morning.”
The small platoon turns away and heads into the city, the inner door closing behind them, ignoring the Doctor’s pleas.
“Oh, I hope your ears fall off,” he grumbles as he turns away, knowing that he has no chance of gaining entry at this gate.
The sun sets with a suddenness that would be alarming for someone without the Doctor’s time-sense. Obviously the days are very short on Zingiber, which also limits the window of time he has to rescue Donna. He retreats into the shadows around the walled city, staying in the trees as he follows the line of the buildings until he finds himself outside the most ornate and luxurious residence he’s yet seen.
This looks like the royal palace, and if he’s right, then this is where Donna should be.
There’s light streaming out from one of the windows, and then a shadow breaks the beam and he looks up, catching his breath at the all-too-familiar sight of his companion, who is leaning on the balustrade, gazing into the night sky.
“Oh, Romeo, Romeo,” she sighs, “wherefore art thou – although frankly, a Doctor would do.”
“Actually,” he says, stepping out of the shadows into the square of the light on the grass beneath the balcony, “Juliet was talking about his name, not his location, but since you asked…”
“Yeah, thanks, Spaceman,” Donna shoots back, perching on the railing. “Second Year Seniors English. I do know that. But seriously what took you so long? I’ve been expecting you to turn up inside for hours.”
“I got stuck out here because of the curfew,” he grumbles. “So, are you coming down so that we can get out of here?”
She grins in what he can see is a distinctly smug fashion. “Nope!”
“Wha-at?” He stares at her, his jaw dropping. “What do you mean, ‘nope’? Don’t be so daft, Donna! What are you afraid of – that I won’t catch you or something? Hurry up and get down here, you stupid woman, or you’ll be stuck in there all night!”
“Oh, so you’re being mean about now!” She stands up and takes a step back towards the glow of the room behind her. “Insulting me, too! Why would I want to put up with that when they’re so nice to me here?”
And as he splutters incoherently at this response, she leans over the edge one last time, smiling wickedly.
“If you can manage to be granted an audience in the morning,” she tells him, “and if you’re suitably respectful, I might deign to listen to your apologies then.”
With that, and before he can say a word, she sweeps back into the room and not all of his calling can bring her back out again.
In the end, he stomps off through the darkness back to the TARDIS, trying to work out what inducements he can offer both suspicious Zingiberians and an offended companion.
Once he arrives back at the blue box, he lets himself in and allows the door to slam shut behind him. It echoes loudly, and he half-expects to hear Donna telling him off for it.
When, naturally, she doesn’t, he goes around the console room making as much noise as he can, just to spite her absence.
It doesn’t make him feel better.
Nor does eating jam out of the jar with his fingers, or making himself a huge banana split, which he eats standing up although he knows it’s bad for his digestion, or any of the numerous other things that always prompt a rise from Donna and then result in one of their highly enjoyable spats.
The silence is horrible.
In the end, just because she’s not there to say anything, he finishes his dessert sitting at the table and then washes up the bowl and spoon, leaving them to drain on the sink as he makes himself a cup of tea. Carrying it into the Library, he hunts out the few – alarmingly few! – books that the TARDIS has on Zingiber and settles down to see what plans he can make for 'rescuing' Donna.
Next Part
Author:
katherine_b Rating: G
Summary: The Doctor might have to do something that goes totally against the grain.
Characters: Ten, Donna and a bunch of aliens
A/N: As a result of matching the winning bid at the Support Stacie auction,
wiggiemomsi was allowed to give me a prompt and a get a 5,000+ word fic from me as well. She asked for: “Ten and Donna land on a planet where the natives see her red hair and decide she's the goddess that legend says will rule over them. They nab her, and when the Doctor finds her, she's enjoying her new role ... maybe a bit too much!” A/N 2: Gorgeous title graphic made by
sonicgirl2005.Part I
“This,” the Doctor decides aloud as he sees Donna’s ginger hair receding into the distance, surrounded by a troop of squeaking Zingiberians, “might not have been the best decision I ever made.”
Behind him, the TARDIS groans agreement, and he grumpily kicks it with the sole of his cream converse.
“I didn’t ask for commentary,” he snaps. “And I don’t suppose you have any ideas how I can get her back!”
Silence from his trusty blue box proves his point, and, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he trudges in the same direction as the group who took away his companion.
He can’t help thinking that part of the reason he’s so unhappy is because she went with them so willingly.
Things had been going so well until that moment.
He had thrown open the TARDIS doors on yet another new planet, and Donna had been suitably impressed by Zingiber’s beauty, with its rolling purple hills, endless expanse of yellow sky, and blue trees.
When some of the locals turned up, with their dark brown skins and the rounded ears on top of their heads, Donna had checked with him in an undertone that they weren’t related to mice and, once he promised they weren’t, she had been willing to engage them in conversation.
And then, as the silver sun climbed higher in the sky and the air around them had warmed, before he could move to stop her, she had thrown back the green scarf covering her hair – and that was when the trouble had started.
“Doctor,” she had demanded in an undertone as they had begun to paw at her ginger tresses, “what’s going on?”
“Ah, you see,” he’d told her rather reluctantly, “that’s the odd thing about this planet. They don’t have anything red on it. Never have had. And your hair – it’s almost certainly the first red thing any of them have ever seen.”
“You couldn’t have warned me before?” she had begun, before the Zingiberians had suddenly all dropped to their knees around her, apart from one which had bowed low and then kissed her hand.
And that had been the moment when the Doctor really knew they were in trouble.
Well, he was, because Donna didn’t seem all the bothered.
In fact, as she had taken two of the many hands held out to her and was escorted away, she had seemed rather to like it, at least if the smirk she sent back in his direction was any guide!
The walls of Zingiber City finally loom ahead of him and he quickens his pace in order to get there before the sun, which he can see setting, finally slips beneath the horizon.
Unfortunately, a small cluster of spears blocks his entrance through the gate, and he can see the rather menacing looks on the faces of the guards that tells him this won’t be easy as he’d hoped.
“Who are you?” the Zingiberian with the longest and, as the Doctor touches it to check, definitely the sharpest spear demands.
“Ah,” the Doctor pats his pockets, finally locating his trusty psychic paper, “yes, I’m a guest, special visitor, you know, here to see the woman who you brought here earlier.”
“The woman?” the chief guard demands. “What woman?”
“Oh, you know.” The Doctor’s fingers finally close down on the leather wallet and he pulls it out in relief. “The person with red hair.”
“You mean our Queen?” the Zingiberian shoots back in meaningful tones, and the Doctor feels anxiety begin to gnaw at the pit of his stomach.
This situation has just gone from bad to worse.
“Yes, that’s right!” he says with an enthusiasm he certainly doesn’t feel. “Her. I have a special message. See?” He offers the psychic paper. “Right here.”
The Zingiberians all lean forward to squint at the paper, and the Doctor feels his hearts sink as they look from it to him. A moment later, he understands their actions, and also the reason there are no signs anywhere to tell him where he is, which is also why psychic paper is going to be useless here.
“You can’t read this,” he suggests, gesturing with the leather folder, “because there’s no writing in your language.”
“What,” the head Zingiberian asks in obvious confusion, “is ‘writing’?”
“Never mind.” The Doctor slaps the leather folder shut and slides it back into his pocket. “Can I at least come into the city for the night?”
Before the guard can respond, a loud clanging from above the Doctor’s head makes him look up to see a bell being rung. Somehow he knows what the response to his question will be even before the Zingiberian speaks.
“The curfew is enacted. The city is closed.” The guards sidle backwards just as a massive gate drops down, almost trapping the Doctor beneath it. He leaps back just in time as the guard continues, “Try again in the morning.”
The small platoon turns away and heads into the city, the inner door closing behind them, ignoring the Doctor’s pleas.
“Oh, I hope your ears fall off,” he grumbles as he turns away, knowing that he has no chance of gaining entry at this gate.
The sun sets with a suddenness that would be alarming for someone without the Doctor’s time-sense. Obviously the days are very short on Zingiber, which also limits the window of time he has to rescue Donna. He retreats into the shadows around the walled city, staying in the trees as he follows the line of the buildings until he finds himself outside the most ornate and luxurious residence he’s yet seen.
This looks like the royal palace, and if he’s right, then this is where Donna should be.
There’s light streaming out from one of the windows, and then a shadow breaks the beam and he looks up, catching his breath at the all-too-familiar sight of his companion, who is leaning on the balustrade, gazing into the night sky.
“Oh, Romeo, Romeo,” she sighs, “wherefore art thou – although frankly, a Doctor would do.”
“Actually,” he says, stepping out of the shadows into the square of the light on the grass beneath the balcony, “Juliet was talking about his name, not his location, but since you asked…”
“Yeah, thanks, Spaceman,” Donna shoots back, perching on the railing. “Second Year Seniors English. I do know that. But seriously what took you so long? I’ve been expecting you to turn up inside for hours.”
“I got stuck out here because of the curfew,” he grumbles. “So, are you coming down so that we can get out of here?”
She grins in what he can see is a distinctly smug fashion. “Nope!”
“Wha-at?” He stares at her, his jaw dropping. “What do you mean, ‘nope’? Don’t be so daft, Donna! What are you afraid of – that I won’t catch you or something? Hurry up and get down here, you stupid woman, or you’ll be stuck in there all night!”
“Oh, so you’re being mean about now!” She stands up and takes a step back towards the glow of the room behind her. “Insulting me, too! Why would I want to put up with that when they’re so nice to me here?”
And as he splutters incoherently at this response, she leans over the edge one last time, smiling wickedly.
“If you can manage to be granted an audience in the morning,” she tells him, “and if you’re suitably respectful, I might deign to listen to your apologies then.”
With that, and before he can say a word, she sweeps back into the room and not all of his calling can bring her back out again.
In the end, he stomps off through the darkness back to the TARDIS, trying to work out what inducements he can offer both suspicious Zingiberians and an offended companion.
Once he arrives back at the blue box, he lets himself in and allows the door to slam shut behind him. It echoes loudly, and he half-expects to hear Donna telling him off for it.
When, naturally, she doesn’t, he goes around the console room making as much noise as he can, just to spite her absence.
It doesn’t make him feel better.
Nor does eating jam out of the jar with his fingers, or making himself a huge banana split, which he eats standing up although he knows it’s bad for his digestion, or any of the numerous other things that always prompt a rise from Donna and then result in one of their highly enjoyable spats.
The silence is horrible.
In the end, just because she’s not there to say anything, he finishes his dessert sitting at the table and then washes up the bowl and spoon, leaving them to drain on the sink as he makes himself a cup of tea. Carrying it into the Library, he hunts out the few – alarmingly few! – books that the TARDIS has on Zingiber and settles down to see what plans he can make for 'rescuing' Donna.
Next Part
grumpy