What's the punishment for memory loss?
Title: What's the punishment for memory loss?
Charcters: Donna Noble, the Doctor
Rating: G
Word Count: 900
Spoilers: one for Torchwood CoE
Summary: Is it some kind of passing rite to write a Donna fix-it? Does it count if it’s crack?
Disclaimer: Would I have to fix it if they were mine?
A/N: I once had a life that did not include banging myself over the head because I suck at titles. I want that life back.
The universe had apparently conspired to make Donna Noble remember.
First, fashion had changed and brought back the Chucks. And since it was fashion and thus nonsensical by default, it behoved everyone and their freaking mother to run around in suits and chucks.
Then the British telecom had decided that grey and pink was so nineties and blue was the colour of the new century. This resulted in a dramatic increase of blue telephone boxes nationwide.
Last and certainly not least in a long line of grievances for the Keep Donna Alive Fund, there were the aliens. Every species in the whole, wide universe seemed to consider Earth a great spot for vacationing, invading or retiring. The senior residents were the worst. Unfailingly, they would chose Chiswick, London, England as their retirement spot and the neighbourhood turned very spacey.
But Donna was nothing if not stubborn. Apart from mentioning once or twice a day that the new neighbours were lunatics, she shrugged it all off. This was partly helped by the nice guys she often met down the pub (not one of her neighbours and she couldn’t remember ever seeing them before but her memory was not what it once had been) who kept buying her drinks and, unbeknownst to her, slipped little white pills in them. In fact, Donna had spent the last year in a pleasant haze and had almost accepted that the memorable part of her life had ended nearly three years ago.
The guy - not always the same guy but always with a black SUV - usually nodded when she said something to that effect and bought her another drink.
*
July came and the world changed. Donna went on a holiday to some miniscule Greek island to sip cocktails and enjoy the sun. A non-government employee was supposed to travel after her and be ready with the little white pills but that man went and got killed and coffee-drinkers all over the world mourned for he had been the best barrista the planet had ever seen.
All this meant that nobody was at her side when Donna sat on the beach and the light, the clouds and the setting sun were just right and she thought, “Wow. That looks almost like the creation of Earth.”
*
When Donna came to herself, the sun was rising. Blinking heavily, she tried to make order out of the chaos behind her eyes. “Fzzhwrk,” she said.
Okay. That didn’t come out right. Try again. “Ow.”
Better. Much better. Molto bene. An expression to indicate that she was experiencing pain. The syllable had been a very good choice. “Owww.” Incidentally, did she know that Owww was a planet right over there - no, more to the left; yes, there - where they make brilliant painkillers? Work like a charm, they do. Shut up.
Donna tried to sit up and assess the situation.
She was on Earth. She had the worst headache in the history of headaches. The Doctor’s voice was babbling in her head. She had sand in places she didn’t want to think about.
Oh, the Doctor was going to pay for this.
*
Back in London, Donna took a few weeks to beat the Doctor’s voice into submission. That done she sneaked into UNIT headquarters to steal a couple of things and since she was not the Doctor, she wrote them a letter with an IOU and while she was at it, detailing the faults of their security systems.
She annexed her mother’s kitchen table to tinker with the liberated parts, made a portable transmat and a spare one in a different colour so it’d go with her wardrobe and marvelled how easy it was. Then she kissed her mother and grandfather goodbye, promised to be back for dinner and went to find a certain scrawny alien butt for a good kicking.
*
The Doctor, meanwhile, had liberated a few planets, done a spot of running, been back to Earth once or twice and given a flying bus to a criminal. When his social calendar allowed for it, he had been moping and feeling sorry himself.
At the moment, he was embroiled in a war on some backwater planet in a backwater corner of the universe. It was going quite well. The opposing parties were speaking to each other again and working on a common agenda. Granted that agenda comprised of killing him but at least, they had stopped fighting each other. It wasn’t a bad strategy per se. Give them an enemy to unite against and sneak them a peace treaty when they weren’t looking. Not the best strategy but altogether not too bad.
Naturally, the Doctor had messed it up by getting caught, which was why Donna found him tied up and hung upside down like an outer-space piñata from what passed for a tree on that planet.
“Donna! You survived the meta-crisis. Brilliant!” He wriggled in excitement and looked like a butterfly cocoon with hiccoughs. “Untie me so I can give you a proper hug!”
She smirked. “Nah, not yet. Maybe later.”
*
The generals of the opposing armies were in the middle of a meeting about who would get the honour to kill the Doctor when Donna barged in.
“Alright, so who’s in charge here? Let’s talk about your war.”
The aliens didn’t stand a chance.
*
Outside, the wind picked up.
“Donna?” the Doctor whined as the gale tossed him to and fro.
Since she was still a bit miffed with him, Donna pretended not to hear him over the sound of how awesome she was.
Charcters: Donna Noble, the Doctor
Rating: G
Word Count: 900
Spoilers: one for Torchwood CoE
Summary: Is it some kind of passing rite to write a Donna fix-it? Does it count if it’s crack?
Disclaimer: Would I have to fix it if they were mine?
A/N: I once had a life that did not include banging myself over the head because I suck at titles. I want that life back.
The universe had apparently conspired to make Donna Noble remember.
First, fashion had changed and brought back the Chucks. And since it was fashion and thus nonsensical by default, it behoved everyone and their freaking mother to run around in suits and chucks.
Then the British telecom had decided that grey and pink was so nineties and blue was the colour of the new century. This resulted in a dramatic increase of blue telephone boxes nationwide.
Last and certainly not least in a long line of grievances for the Keep Donna Alive Fund, there were the aliens. Every species in the whole, wide universe seemed to consider Earth a great spot for vacationing, invading or retiring. The senior residents were the worst. Unfailingly, they would chose Chiswick, London, England as their retirement spot and the neighbourhood turned very spacey.
But Donna was nothing if not stubborn. Apart from mentioning once or twice a day that the new neighbours were lunatics, she shrugged it all off. This was partly helped by the nice guys she often met down the pub (not one of her neighbours and she couldn’t remember ever seeing them before but her memory was not what it once had been) who kept buying her drinks and, unbeknownst to her, slipped little white pills in them. In fact, Donna had spent the last year in a pleasant haze and had almost accepted that the memorable part of her life had ended nearly three years ago.
The guy - not always the same guy but always with a black SUV - usually nodded when she said something to that effect and bought her another drink.
*
July came and the world changed. Donna went on a holiday to some miniscule Greek island to sip cocktails and enjoy the sun. A non-government employee was supposed to travel after her and be ready with the little white pills but that man went and got killed and coffee-drinkers all over the world mourned for he had been the best barrista the planet had ever seen.
All this meant that nobody was at her side when Donna sat on the beach and the light, the clouds and the setting sun were just right and she thought, “Wow. That looks almost like the creation of Earth.”
*
When Donna came to herself, the sun was rising. Blinking heavily, she tried to make order out of the chaos behind her eyes. “Fzzhwrk,” she said.
Okay. That didn’t come out right. Try again. “Ow.”
Better. Much better. Molto bene. An expression to indicate that she was experiencing pain. The syllable had been a very good choice. “Owww.” Incidentally, did she know that Owww was a planet right over there - no, more to the left; yes, there - where they make brilliant painkillers? Work like a charm, they do. Shut up.
Donna tried to sit up and assess the situation.
She was on Earth. She had the worst headache in the history of headaches. The Doctor’s voice was babbling in her head. She had sand in places she didn’t want to think about.
Oh, the Doctor was going to pay for this.
*
Back in London, Donna took a few weeks to beat the Doctor’s voice into submission. That done she sneaked into UNIT headquarters to steal a couple of things and since she was not the Doctor, she wrote them a letter with an IOU and while she was at it, detailing the faults of their security systems.
She annexed her mother’s kitchen table to tinker with the liberated parts, made a portable transmat and a spare one in a different colour so it’d go with her wardrobe and marvelled how easy it was. Then she kissed her mother and grandfather goodbye, promised to be back for dinner and went to find a certain scrawny alien butt for a good kicking.
*
The Doctor, meanwhile, had liberated a few planets, done a spot of running, been back to Earth once or twice and given a flying bus to a criminal. When his social calendar allowed for it, he had been moping and feeling sorry himself.
At the moment, he was embroiled in a war on some backwater planet in a backwater corner of the universe. It was going quite well. The opposing parties were speaking to each other again and working on a common agenda. Granted that agenda comprised of killing him but at least, they had stopped fighting each other. It wasn’t a bad strategy per se. Give them an enemy to unite against and sneak them a peace treaty when they weren’t looking. Not the best strategy but altogether not too bad.
Naturally, the Doctor had messed it up by getting caught, which was why Donna found him tied up and hung upside down like an outer-space piñata from what passed for a tree on that planet.
“Donna! You survived the meta-crisis. Brilliant!” He wriggled in excitement and looked like a butterfly cocoon with hiccoughs. “Untie me so I can give you a proper hug!”
She smirked. “Nah, not yet. Maybe later.”
*
The generals of the opposing armies were in the middle of a meeting about who would get the honour to kill the Doctor when Donna barged in.
“Alright, so who’s in charge here? Let’s talk about your war.”
The aliens didn’t stand a chance.
*
Outside, the wind picked up.
“Donna?” the Doctor whined as the gale tossed him to and fro.
Since she was still a bit miffed with him, Donna pretended not to hear him over the sound of how awesome she was.