Ten, Donna, Rated G
Title: Paper Mazes
Author: christn7
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Ten, Donna
Spoilers: None
Author's notes: Short ficlet for falulatonks. Slightly cracky, rather silly. First actual attempt at writing Donna.
Summary: “This is hardly my fault,” the Doctor says, folding his arms and leaning against the cell bars.
“Oh, save it for the judge, princess,” Donna says.
--
Paper Mazes
--
“This is hardly my fault,” the Doctor says, folding his arms and leaning against the cell bars.
“Oh, save it for the judge, princess,” Donna says. She flops down on the bunk and the springs squeak in protest.
“Really,” he says, knowing the argument is futile. “That wasn’t illegal the last time I was here.”
She snorts. “Which was when? About the time we were supposed to arrive?”
“Close to,” he admits.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a rubbish driver?”
“Oi!”
“You’ll have to teach me,” she continues, ignoring his protest. “Can’t navigate your way out of a paper bag.”
When the guard comes to check on them he’s too busy sulking to attempt an escape.
--
When he makes to move towards her side of the cell her raised eyebrow stops him.
He settles back against the horribly uncomfortable bars in his corner and continues to count prime numbers. He gets to 457-apple-slash-delta when Donna interrupts him.
“Doctor?”
“Yes?”
“I need to go.”
“That’s nice,” he says. “I never thought of using that as an excuse to get out of a prison cell before. It’d be an interesting judicial system where you could get away with that.” He deepens his voice. “You, do you plead guilty or innocent?” And then raises it. “Oh, doesn’t matter, because I need to go.”
“No,” she says, interrupting him, “I need to go.”
“Oh.”
“Just get us out of here,” she informs him.
“And how do you propose I do that,” he asks, rattling the cell door. “Deadlock seal.”
“I don’t care,” she says. “You can squeeze through the bloody bars if you have to.”
--
He gets them out - because he’s brilliant and well proportioned - and Donna insists they find a toilet before they run.
He starts to argue until he catches the look on her face.
--
It’s not a maze so much as it is a forest, he thinks, jogging down yet another tree-lined path. Castles and gardens and he should have remembered they go hand-in-hand.
He can hear Donna, just behind him and, considerate soul that he is, he slows a little to let her catch up.
“S’just a bit further,” he says, turning to grin at her over his shoulder.
They’re slowly gaining ground, he thinks, the sound of their pursuers fading further into the distance. They're just out of sight now, they are and they just might lose them at one of next intersections. Easy-peasy.
“The Palace gardens are fairly simple geometric designs,” he says, turning left down a branching pathway. “We’ll be out of here in next to no time.”
Donna shakes her head but doesn’t stop jogging. “Haven’t we passed that tree before?”
“Nah,” he says, and he’s almost entirely certain until he finds, rather abruptly, that they’ve wandered down a dead end. Again.
“We’re lost, aren’t we?” she asks, slowing to a stop beside him.
He shrugs. “Hopelessly.”
“I was right,” she says. “Couldn’t find your way out of a paper bag.”
He frowns but still decides to follow her as she takes the lead.
Author: christn7
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Ten, Donna
Spoilers: None
Author's notes: Short ficlet for falulatonks. Slightly cracky, rather silly. First actual attempt at writing Donna.
Summary: “This is hardly my fault,” the Doctor says, folding his arms and leaning against the cell bars.
“Oh, save it for the judge, princess,” Donna says.
--
Paper Mazes
--
“This is hardly my fault,” the Doctor says, folding his arms and leaning against the cell bars.
“Oh, save it for the judge, princess,” Donna says. She flops down on the bunk and the springs squeak in protest.
“Really,” he says, knowing the argument is futile. “That wasn’t illegal the last time I was here.”
She snorts. “Which was when? About the time we were supposed to arrive?”
“Close to,” he admits.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a rubbish driver?”
“Oi!”
“You’ll have to teach me,” she continues, ignoring his protest. “Can’t navigate your way out of a paper bag.”
When the guard comes to check on them he’s too busy sulking to attempt an escape.
--
When he makes to move towards her side of the cell her raised eyebrow stops him.
He settles back against the horribly uncomfortable bars in his corner and continues to count prime numbers. He gets to 457-apple-slash-delta when Donna interrupts him.
“Doctor?”
“Yes?”
“I need to go.”
“That’s nice,” he says. “I never thought of using that as an excuse to get out of a prison cell before. It’d be an interesting judicial system where you could get away with that.” He deepens his voice. “You, do you plead guilty or innocent?” And then raises it. “Oh, doesn’t matter, because I need to go.”
“No,” she says, interrupting him, “I need to go.”
“Oh.”
“Just get us out of here,” she informs him.
“And how do you propose I do that,” he asks, rattling the cell door. “Deadlock seal.”
“I don’t care,” she says. “You can squeeze through the bloody bars if you have to.”
--
He gets them out - because he’s brilliant and well proportioned - and Donna insists they find a toilet before they run.
He starts to argue until he catches the look on her face.
--
It’s not a maze so much as it is a forest, he thinks, jogging down yet another tree-lined path. Castles and gardens and he should have remembered they go hand-in-hand.
He can hear Donna, just behind him and, considerate soul that he is, he slows a little to let her catch up.
“S’just a bit further,” he says, turning to grin at her over his shoulder.
They’re slowly gaining ground, he thinks, the sound of their pursuers fading further into the distance. They're just out of sight now, they are and they just might lose them at one of next intersections. Easy-peasy.
“The Palace gardens are fairly simple geometric designs,” he says, turning left down a branching pathway. “We’ll be out of here in next to no time.”
Donna shakes her head but doesn’t stop jogging. “Haven’t we passed that tree before?”
“Nah,” he says, and he’s almost entirely certain until he finds, rather abruptly, that they’ve wandered down a dead end. Again.
“We’re lost, aren’t we?” she asks, slowing to a stop beside him.
He shrugs. “Hopelessly.”
“I was right,” she says. “Couldn’t find your way out of a paper bag.”
He frowns but still decides to follow her as she takes the lead.