Fic: Used to be Brilliant (1/1)
Title: Used to be Brilliant
Author: Gillian Taylor
Character/Pairing: Donna Noble, Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Spoilers: Journey's End
Summary: It's that nutter from London. The one with a Lolita fetish. Why does she get followed by the crazies?
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.
A/N: Thanks, as always, to the brilliant wendymr for BRing. Yes, it's ye ole fixit fic take 2, but I had to do it :)
Now an Award Winner!
“Used to be Brilliant”
by Gillian Taylor
She never realised just how strange London could really be. It’s not the buildings that get her. It’s the people. How this lot can get anything done is beyond her, completely beyond her. Mind, she’s just a temp. Doing temp work, that’s her. 100 words and minute and all that. But she’s still working. Unlike them.
These people are completely mad.
“It’s aliens. Has to be. I’m telling you, Donna, it’s just not safe to work in London any more,” Jessica says. The woman’s twirling a lock of hair around her finger and, honestly, how can she think she looks professional like that? Going on about aliens and acting like she’s brainless. Then again, she half suspects she is. Only reason she’s keeping this job is because she’s sleeping with the boss.
“Aliens. Really.” Madness. Complete madness. Everyone knows there’s no such thing. It’s swamp gas and the light from Venus. Things like that. She winces at the headache that starts to build behind her eyes.
“Honest! They said the spaceship was gonna crash. Right into the Thames. Just like before, yeah? But it didn’t. And then the lights went out. It’s aliens, I’m telling you.”
“Aliens are turning off the lights. Next you’re gonna say we’re about to be starring in the real life version of War of the Worlds.” If sarcasm’s dripping off her words she can be excused, right? It’s got to be something in the water.
She’s had enough of this. She’s going out for a walk. It’s her lunch break. She’s got better things to do than to listen to Jessica natter on about aliens. “I’m going out. I’ll be back later, yeah?”
“Be careful, Donna. They might still be out there,” Jessica warns.
Yeah, right. Whatever.
It’s worse outside than it was in. Everyone’s running around in a panic like the sky’s falling. Madness.
Except for those two. Now that’s odd.
They’re grinning. Madly. Like this is all a lark, whatever this is. But he’s gorgeous. Completely gorgeous. All leather and ears and oh, god, those eyes. Yet he’s not looking at her. No, he’s looking at his companion, still grinning away, and that’s just ruddy not fair.
Seems he’s got a bit of a Lolita fetish. Someone runs into her, almost knocking her off her feet and suddenly they’re here. He’s grasping her elbow, keeping her steady, while the girl tells off the bloke who tried to run her over.
“Th-thanks,” she manages to say, hopefully not making a fool out of herself.
“Not safe to be outside. Go on with you. Back indoors where it’s safe, all right?” he asks, letting her go once she’s caught her balance.
She’s never been brave in her life, but something about this man makes her want to be. Her head is aching something fierce, but that’s okay. She’ll be fine. Just fine. “What’s going on?” she asks.
“Aliens,” he replies, still wearing that manic grin.
Any attraction she felt for him fades in an instant. He’s another one. “Nutter,” she mutters.
“Oi!” he exclaims. “What’d I do?”
Without bothering to answer, she turns and walks away, ignoring the whooshing noise above her head. She thinks she hears something explode in the distance, but she doesn’t bother to look. She’s got to get out of London.
Maybe Cardiff won’t be as bad?
Cardiff is worse.
Between the mutants running about in the streets to this Torchwood group who travel around in a black Land Rover, she’s about ready to throw in the metaphorical towel. Everyone’s mad. That’s the only possible answer.
At least the job’s better. Good hours, good pay, good boss. If only the city wasn’t full of nutjobs she’d be happy. Just walking down the street is an exercise in restraint. She can’t count the number of times she’s had to restrain herself from shouting at the people around her, demanding they acknowledge that there’s no such thing as aliens.
But it seems this Torchwood likes to perpetuate that particular lie. Figures, doesn’t it? She’s never going to be able to escape the insanity.
That’s when she runs into him. Again.
“Oi! Watch where you’re going!” she says, not really caring that it was actually her fault for not looking where she was going.
It takes her a moment to recognise him, but she blames that more on the circumstances of this particular encounter than anything else. His jumper’s maroon today, but the look on his face is just the same. It’s that nutter from London.
“You,” she says. It figures, doesn’t it? She gets followed by the crazies. That’d definitely explain it.
He opens his mouth to reply, but instead of his voice, she hears the word ‘Doctor’.
The girl - the same one, she realises, from before - comes up to his side and repeats that word, like it’s a name rather than a label.
Searing pain rips through her mind and she gasps. She feels her knees buckle beneath her as hands - strangely familiar hands though the size isn’t right - grasp her.
“Are you all right?” he - the Doctor - asks.
“No, you bastard, I’m not. You made me forget!”
And though the word is spoken with a Northern accent, the sentiment is one all too familiar. “What?”
She remembers everything.
The crucible. Leaving Rose - well, future Rose given Rose is standing in front of her - and the Time Lord human metacrisis - her brother? Son - yuck, definitely not? How does that work, anyway? - in the alternate version of Norway. Then the Doctor taking away her memories. Everything she was, gone. Just like that.
She’s going to kill him. Regenerate him at least once. Just not yet. Well, not now. This Doctor isn’t the one she’s got to have words with.
Not good, though. Oh, definitely not good. She’s got to preserve the timelines but maybe this Doctor can help. “I’m from your future, Doctor. Sorry. Can’t say more than that. Timelines and all.”
“You didn’t recognise me before,” he says suspiciously.
“Right. Well, right. I didn’t. Before. Then I remembered. Just like that. Funny how that works, right?” She laughs just a little, but it’s a sickly sound so she stops almost as soon as she starts. God, her head is killing her. Rather literally as the case might be, but at least she remembers.
“You said I made you forget.”
“Ah-ah. Can’t know your own future, yeah? Sorry. Erm, why don’t you two just carry on with whatever you were doing? I’ll be fine. Just fine, fine, fine, fine, fine. Bugger.” It’s not supposed to come on her this quickly. She’s supposed to have enough time to gracefully make her exit. Maybe call her granddad, tell him what happened and say goodbye.
Not like this.
A cool hand suddenly grasps her own before she has the chance to pull away. “Nope, sorry. There’s something wrong.”
Captain obvious here. But she can’t seem to stop herself from blurting out, “Human Time Lord metacrisis here, hello!” She waves the fingers of her free hand at the Doctor. And Rose.
Oh, that’s not good. Bye-bye time. Nice knowing you.
The Reapers’ll show up any minute now.
“That’s impossible,” the Doctor says on an exhale.
“Love to chat, but I’ve got to go, go, go, go, go. I’m fine. Honest.” She tries to break his grip but he’s too strong.
“You’re coming with us.” Rather demanding sort isn’t he? Figures.
“Doctor, what’s goin’ on?” Rose asks. “Who is she?”
“No, no, no-one,” she replies before he can. “Just let me go. Please.”
He doesn’t respond. Or maybe he does. She thinks his lips are moving, but she can’t hear the words. Why can’t she hear him? Atmospheric thickening? No, no, he doesn’t look distressed. Distressed. Danger. Mauve! Oh, yes, mauve. She likes mauve. A lot. She looks rather good in mauve doesn’t she?
Oh, why is he leaning in so close? Oh, look! Sonic screwdriver! She should get one of those. She needs one. It’d be a bit hard, but maybe, maybe, maybe…
Her mind is going too fast. Too quickly. She can’t keep up. Her body can’t keep up. She knows what this is. Oh, god, this is it and that’s okay. That’s fine. It’s been a good life.
Now it’s over.
And, almost in response to that thought, the world goes black.
To say that she’s surprised when she wakes up again is the understatement of the century. A very familiar sound fills her ears and she blinks in shock as the familiar contours of the medbay’s ceiling come into focus. So heaven’s the TARDIS. Makes sense, really.
She did say she wanted to spend the rest of her life here. Now she can.
Wait.
She feels normal. Like before. Only no Time Lord bits added in. Just plain old Donna Noble.
“Hello,” Rose says as she leans into her field of view.
Rose is in heaven? “Um, hello. What happened?”
“You collapsed on us. The Doctor brought you back here, said somethin’ about sortin’ out something he messed up in the future and now you’re awake.” Rose shrugs slightly, like it’s all a complete mystery to her.
Wait a minute. “He fixed me?”
“Yep. That all right?” the Doctor asks.
She turns her head to find him in the doorway. Damn, that man wears a doorway well. Too bad he’s going to turn into a skinny streak of nothing. “What?”
“Death is highly overrated. Lots to do before that happens, you know.”
“You fixed me,” she repeats. “You fixed me.”
“Oi! Less of the disbelief, thanks.”
“Why the hell couldn’t you’ve done that before? No, wait, don’t answer that.” She holds up her hand to quell any comment he might make. She should be grateful. She’s alive, after all.
She sits up and swings her legs off the side of the bed. “Thank you,” she finally says.
He smiles. “You’re welcome.”
She’s not going to ask him how she can find the future version of himself. She’s done it before and she can do it again. Best thing she can do now is get out of here before she tells him something else about his future that he can’t know.
“How’d you fix me?” she asks.
“It was simple. Not close to a regeneration, me. Just separated the Time Lord bits from the human bits with this.” He taps the side of his forehead.
Just like the Doctor. Her Doctor. Using his Time Lord-y mind powers to - Oh. Oh, no. “Wait. That means you know-“
“Who you are? Yup. I do.”
Fear makes her skin feel too stretched. “But you can’t-“
“Donna Noble,” he says. “You saved the world.”
“You aren’t supposed to know me. You can’t know me. Neither of you can.” She knows that can’t be good. Some remnant of Time Lord knowledge, perhaps?
“I’ll forget. Have to. Both of us do.” The Doctor nods towards Rose. Surprisingly - or maybe not so surprisingly - she doesn’t look scared by that particular prospect. More resigned. “My life isn’t linear. Can’t go about knowing what’s going to happen in my own future. More fun that way.”
She smiles. “Yeah. Suppose it is.”
Best get it over with. She stands and gives Rose a hug, then does the same to the Doctor. “Thank you. Both of you.”
“You’re welcome,” the Doctor says solemnly. “See you later.”
She offers him a half-smile before she leaves the room. “Yeah.”
It takes six months. Could’ve been worse, but could’ve been better too.
She could’ve gone to Jack, Martha or Sarah Jane to try to reach him, but this is something she has to do on her own. And now this is it. The TARDIS is right in front of her, the door is opening, and there he is. She’s torn between slapping him and hugging him. Instead she stands there, smiling as he gapes at her. “Hello, Doctor.”
“Donna?” he asks, shocked. “It’s you? It’s really you?” His arms open wide and she steps into them gratefully. She missed this. She really did.
“How can you remember?” he asks into her shoulder, even as he tightens his hold on her.
“You were much more brilliant when you wore leather,” she replies with a grin.
END
x-posted to: dark_aegis, i_love_donna, dwfiction & marriedonmars
Author: Gillian Taylor
Character/Pairing: Donna Noble, Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Spoilers: Journey's End
Summary: It's that nutter from London. The one with a Lolita fetish. Why does she get followed by the crazies?
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.
A/N: Thanks, as always, to the brilliant wendymr for BRing. Yes, it's ye ole fixit fic take 2, but I had to do it :)
Now an Award Winner!
“Used to be Brilliant”
by Gillian Taylor
She never realised just how strange London could really be. It’s not the buildings that get her. It’s the people. How this lot can get anything done is beyond her, completely beyond her. Mind, she’s just a temp. Doing temp work, that’s her. 100 words and minute and all that. But she’s still working. Unlike them.
These people are completely mad.
“It’s aliens. Has to be. I’m telling you, Donna, it’s just not safe to work in London any more,” Jessica says. The woman’s twirling a lock of hair around her finger and, honestly, how can she think she looks professional like that? Going on about aliens and acting like she’s brainless. Then again, she half suspects she is. Only reason she’s keeping this job is because she’s sleeping with the boss.
“Aliens. Really.” Madness. Complete madness. Everyone knows there’s no such thing. It’s swamp gas and the light from Venus. Things like that. She winces at the headache that starts to build behind her eyes.
“Honest! They said the spaceship was gonna crash. Right into the Thames. Just like before, yeah? But it didn’t. And then the lights went out. It’s aliens, I’m telling you.”
“Aliens are turning off the lights. Next you’re gonna say we’re about to be starring in the real life version of War of the Worlds.” If sarcasm’s dripping off her words she can be excused, right? It’s got to be something in the water.
She’s had enough of this. She’s going out for a walk. It’s her lunch break. She’s got better things to do than to listen to Jessica natter on about aliens. “I’m going out. I’ll be back later, yeah?”
“Be careful, Donna. They might still be out there,” Jessica warns.
Yeah, right. Whatever.
It’s worse outside than it was in. Everyone’s running around in a panic like the sky’s falling. Madness.
Except for those two. Now that’s odd.
They’re grinning. Madly. Like this is all a lark, whatever this is. But he’s gorgeous. Completely gorgeous. All leather and ears and oh, god, those eyes. Yet he’s not looking at her. No, he’s looking at his companion, still grinning away, and that’s just ruddy not fair.
Seems he’s got a bit of a Lolita fetish. Someone runs into her, almost knocking her off her feet and suddenly they’re here. He’s grasping her elbow, keeping her steady, while the girl tells off the bloke who tried to run her over.
“Th-thanks,” she manages to say, hopefully not making a fool out of herself.
“Not safe to be outside. Go on with you. Back indoors where it’s safe, all right?” he asks, letting her go once she’s caught her balance.
She’s never been brave in her life, but something about this man makes her want to be. Her head is aching something fierce, but that’s okay. She’ll be fine. Just fine. “What’s going on?” she asks.
“Aliens,” he replies, still wearing that manic grin.
Any attraction she felt for him fades in an instant. He’s another one. “Nutter,” she mutters.
“Oi!” he exclaims. “What’d I do?”
Without bothering to answer, she turns and walks away, ignoring the whooshing noise above her head. She thinks she hears something explode in the distance, but she doesn’t bother to look. She’s got to get out of London.
Maybe Cardiff won’t be as bad?
Cardiff is worse.
Between the mutants running about in the streets to this Torchwood group who travel around in a black Land Rover, she’s about ready to throw in the metaphorical towel. Everyone’s mad. That’s the only possible answer.
At least the job’s better. Good hours, good pay, good boss. If only the city wasn’t full of nutjobs she’d be happy. Just walking down the street is an exercise in restraint. She can’t count the number of times she’s had to restrain herself from shouting at the people around her, demanding they acknowledge that there’s no such thing as aliens.
But it seems this Torchwood likes to perpetuate that particular lie. Figures, doesn’t it? She’s never going to be able to escape the insanity.
That’s when she runs into him. Again.
“Oi! Watch where you’re going!” she says, not really caring that it was actually her fault for not looking where she was going.
It takes her a moment to recognise him, but she blames that more on the circumstances of this particular encounter than anything else. His jumper’s maroon today, but the look on his face is just the same. It’s that nutter from London.
“You,” she says. It figures, doesn’t it? She gets followed by the crazies. That’d definitely explain it.
He opens his mouth to reply, but instead of his voice, she hears the word ‘Doctor’.
The girl - the same one, she realises, from before - comes up to his side and repeats that word, like it’s a name rather than a label.
Searing pain rips through her mind and she gasps. She feels her knees buckle beneath her as hands - strangely familiar hands though the size isn’t right - grasp her.
“Are you all right?” he - the Doctor - asks.
“No, you bastard, I’m not. You made me forget!”
And though the word is spoken with a Northern accent, the sentiment is one all too familiar. “What?”
She remembers everything.
The crucible. Leaving Rose - well, future Rose given Rose is standing in front of her - and the Time Lord human metacrisis - her brother? Son - yuck, definitely not? How does that work, anyway? - in the alternate version of Norway. Then the Doctor taking away her memories. Everything she was, gone. Just like that.
She’s going to kill him. Regenerate him at least once. Just not yet. Well, not now. This Doctor isn’t the one she’s got to have words with.
Not good, though. Oh, definitely not good. She’s got to preserve the timelines but maybe this Doctor can help. “I’m from your future, Doctor. Sorry. Can’t say more than that. Timelines and all.”
“You didn’t recognise me before,” he says suspiciously.
“Right. Well, right. I didn’t. Before. Then I remembered. Just like that. Funny how that works, right?” She laughs just a little, but it’s a sickly sound so she stops almost as soon as she starts. God, her head is killing her. Rather literally as the case might be, but at least she remembers.
“You said I made you forget.”
“Ah-ah. Can’t know your own future, yeah? Sorry. Erm, why don’t you two just carry on with whatever you were doing? I’ll be fine. Just fine, fine, fine, fine, fine. Bugger.” It’s not supposed to come on her this quickly. She’s supposed to have enough time to gracefully make her exit. Maybe call her granddad, tell him what happened and say goodbye.
Not like this.
A cool hand suddenly grasps her own before she has the chance to pull away. “Nope, sorry. There’s something wrong.”
Captain obvious here. But she can’t seem to stop herself from blurting out, “Human Time Lord metacrisis here, hello!” She waves the fingers of her free hand at the Doctor. And Rose.
Oh, that’s not good. Bye-bye time. Nice knowing you.
The Reapers’ll show up any minute now.
“That’s impossible,” the Doctor says on an exhale.
“Love to chat, but I’ve got to go, go, go, go, go. I’m fine. Honest.” She tries to break his grip but he’s too strong.
“You’re coming with us.” Rather demanding sort isn’t he? Figures.
“Doctor, what’s goin’ on?” Rose asks. “Who is she?”
“No, no, no-one,” she replies before he can. “Just let me go. Please.”
He doesn’t respond. Or maybe he does. She thinks his lips are moving, but she can’t hear the words. Why can’t she hear him? Atmospheric thickening? No, no, he doesn’t look distressed. Distressed. Danger. Mauve! Oh, yes, mauve. She likes mauve. A lot. She looks rather good in mauve doesn’t she?
Oh, why is he leaning in so close? Oh, look! Sonic screwdriver! She should get one of those. She needs one. It’d be a bit hard, but maybe, maybe, maybe…
Her mind is going too fast. Too quickly. She can’t keep up. Her body can’t keep up. She knows what this is. Oh, god, this is it and that’s okay. That’s fine. It’s been a good life.
Now it’s over.
And, almost in response to that thought, the world goes black.
To say that she’s surprised when she wakes up again is the understatement of the century. A very familiar sound fills her ears and she blinks in shock as the familiar contours of the medbay’s ceiling come into focus. So heaven’s the TARDIS. Makes sense, really.
She did say she wanted to spend the rest of her life here. Now she can.
Wait.
She feels normal. Like before. Only no Time Lord bits added in. Just plain old Donna Noble.
“Hello,” Rose says as she leans into her field of view.
Rose is in heaven? “Um, hello. What happened?”
“You collapsed on us. The Doctor brought you back here, said somethin’ about sortin’ out something he messed up in the future and now you’re awake.” Rose shrugs slightly, like it’s all a complete mystery to her.
Wait a minute. “He fixed me?”
“Yep. That all right?” the Doctor asks.
She turns her head to find him in the doorway. Damn, that man wears a doorway well. Too bad he’s going to turn into a skinny streak of nothing. “What?”
“Death is highly overrated. Lots to do before that happens, you know.”
“You fixed me,” she repeats. “You fixed me.”
“Oi! Less of the disbelief, thanks.”
“Why the hell couldn’t you’ve done that before? No, wait, don’t answer that.” She holds up her hand to quell any comment he might make. She should be grateful. She’s alive, after all.
She sits up and swings her legs off the side of the bed. “Thank you,” she finally says.
He smiles. “You’re welcome.”
She’s not going to ask him how she can find the future version of himself. She’s done it before and she can do it again. Best thing she can do now is get out of here before she tells him something else about his future that he can’t know.
“How’d you fix me?” she asks.
“It was simple. Not close to a regeneration, me. Just separated the Time Lord bits from the human bits with this.” He taps the side of his forehead.
Just like the Doctor. Her Doctor. Using his Time Lord-y mind powers to - Oh. Oh, no. “Wait. That means you know-“
“Who you are? Yup. I do.”
Fear makes her skin feel too stretched. “But you can’t-“
“Donna Noble,” he says. “You saved the world.”
“You aren’t supposed to know me. You can’t know me. Neither of you can.” She knows that can’t be good. Some remnant of Time Lord knowledge, perhaps?
“I’ll forget. Have to. Both of us do.” The Doctor nods towards Rose. Surprisingly - or maybe not so surprisingly - she doesn’t look scared by that particular prospect. More resigned. “My life isn’t linear. Can’t go about knowing what’s going to happen in my own future. More fun that way.”
She smiles. “Yeah. Suppose it is.”
Best get it over with. She stands and gives Rose a hug, then does the same to the Doctor. “Thank you. Both of you.”
“You’re welcome,” the Doctor says solemnly. “See you later.”
She offers him a half-smile before she leaves the room. “Yeah.”
It takes six months. Could’ve been worse, but could’ve been better too.
She could’ve gone to Jack, Martha or Sarah Jane to try to reach him, but this is something she has to do on her own. And now this is it. The TARDIS is right in front of her, the door is opening, and there he is. She’s torn between slapping him and hugging him. Instead she stands there, smiling as he gapes at her. “Hello, Doctor.”
“Donna?” he asks, shocked. “It’s you? It’s really you?” His arms open wide and she steps into them gratefully. She missed this. She really did.
“How can you remember?” he asks into her shoulder, even as he tightens his hold on her.
“You were much more brilliant when you wore leather,” she replies with a grin.
END
x-posted to: dark_aegis, i_love_donna, dwfiction & marriedonmars