Fic!
Title: Six Impossible Things
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Donna/Romana
Rating: PG
Summary: My favourite impossible thing.
A/N: Written for selenay936 in the dw_femslash ficathon.
1.
Sunday morning and Donna Noble opened her front door armed with a hangover and a cup of coffee to find a small blonde woman wearing an astonished expression pointing a glowing, bleeping stick at Donna's chest.
“You're an impossible thing,” she breathed.
“Oh, bugger off.” Donna slammed the door in the woman's face.
2.
Monday lunchtime and Donna was eating a sandwich in the tiny Health and Safety office during her lunch break when she heard the sound of running feet. She was about to write it off as the IT boys playing silly buggers when the weirdo from yesterday ran past. She'd given some thought to getting a restraining order, but there was something about being followed by a cryptic blonde that gave her a comforting feeling of deja-vu. Anyway, she didn't think the blonde was dangerous, bloody odd, but not dangerous.
“Hello,” said the blonde, backtracking and stopping in the doorway to Donna's office. “I should have known I'd find you here. Your Time Lord consciousness automatically tunes into extra-terrestrial signals.”
“Yeah. And I work here.”
“Tell me, if you had to guess who in this office was a robot hell bent on the destruction of the human race who would you say it was?”
“The human resources manager, definitely.”
“Thank you, Donna Noble.”
“Oi! How do you know my name?” Donna looked at her half eaten cheese sandwich and nearly full cup of tea, snorted in disgust and headed up the stairs after the blonde. She got to the top floor just in time to see the face of Ian, the sweaty and unpleasant human resourced manager, fold back to reveal a mass of circuits and cogs.
He was a robot. Ian. Was. A. Robot. He'd grabbed her arse. That was disgusting. Before Donna could articulate how much this discomfited her two lasers shot from the tiny guns that were now mounted where Ian's eyes had been. Using reflexes she didn't know she had Donna dived for cover behind a desk. Before she could implement the second part of her plan (crawling under the desk) her mystery blonde pulled out her bleeping stick, the same one as she'd previously pointed at Donna, pointed it at Ian and his robot head exploded.
“Oh, my god! You pointed that thing at me. Is that what you were going to do to me, TNT my head!?”
“No, I've been slowly dismantling the mental barriers so the shock doesn't kill you.”
“Well,” shouted Donna, “excuse me for not finding that a comfort!”
3.
“What's your name, anyway?” Once Donna accepted that her stalker wasn't going anywhere, and had proved herself useful in the weird robot hallucination department, she saw no reason they shouldn't be on first name terms.
“Romana.”
“And what, exactly, are you doing at my work's Christmas party?”
“I was invited.” Donna snorted. “I was,” Romana insisted, “I did prevent everyone in your entire office from being used for spare parts.”
“You're a nutter.”
“And you're an impossible thing.”
“And what the flipping hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It's a free bar, you know.”
*
Donna took a gulp from the latest in a long line of glasses of free champagne and came to the conclusion that it was possible that she might be slightly drunk. She knew for a fact that Romana was drunk even though she hadn't seen the other woman touch her glass, sober people didn't talk this much tripe.
“I've been bringing the mental barriers down gradually but the incident with the robot accelerated the process so we've got no choice but to do it now.”
“Listen, lady,” Donna's voice sounded distant to her own ears. “If that's a chat up line you were having more luck with the impossible thing shtick.”
“I put something in your drink.” Donna’s head felt muggy, she tried to get up and failed. No one noticed, it was the office Christmas party and the only one who wasn't drunk was Romana. “Chemically reversed retcon, together with the amount of alcohol in your system it should allow you to survive the neural implosion.”
“Should?” Donna hissed through gritted teeth.
Romana smiled. “I'm rather making this up as I go along; there's never been a human - Time Lord metacrisis before. You're an-”
“I know, I know, I'm an impossible thing. Lucky me.” Donna bent over, closing her eyes tight against the pressure she could feel building up behind them. “Oh, God…”
“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.”
“I’ll show you ‘hurts,’ Mrs.”
“What do you remember?”
“Everything. I am going to kill the Doctor.”
Romana leaned over and squeezed Donna's hand. “I know exactly how you feel.”
Donna grabbed hold of Romana's hand so hard that her nails nearly broke the skin. “I'm not going to survive this, am I?”
“Don't be hysterical. We just have to siphon the excess vortex energy into a biological receptacle.”
If Donna had been capable of it she would have curled up in the foetal position. The pain in her head was overwhelming, it felt as though her skull was about to crack into a million pieces. And that's when Romana leaned across the glass strewn table, took Donna's face in her hands and kissed her.
Immediately the pain in Donna's head decreased enough for her to think again. And her first thought was that you should have an alien consciousness trying to crack its way out of your skull before every first kiss, because this was amazing.
Romana pulled back. “How are you feeling?”
Donna opened her mouth to say something, and promptly fainted dead away.
4.
“It's bigger on the inside,” noted one of the revellers who Romana had shanghaied to carry Donna into her TARDIS.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“It's the night bus to Chiswick,” said Romana.
“But I don't live in Chi-”
Romana's look shut him up.
5.
Donna's front door was answered surprisingly quickly by an elderly man in a dressing gown.“Donna. Oh, Donna, what have you done to my granddaughter?”
“Unblocked her memories, restored her Time Lord conciousness and and prevented her having a very unpleasant hangover tomorrow morning.”
“But you can't,” Donna's Grandfather was cradling her unconscious body. “The Doctor said she'd die, that it would kill her.”
“The Doctor doesn't know everything.” Romana backed away towards the TARDIS. “She'll be fine. She'll be superb.”
6.
Christmas morning and Donna opened her front door to find herself faced with a tall woman with olive skin wearing a very nineteen eighties white leather jacket. Knowing all about regeneration now Donna knew instantly who it was.
“Romana.”
“My favourite impossible thing.”
“How did you get yourself killed?”
“Daleks. Again. I wanted to say that knowing that there was another Time Lord alive-”
“Half Time Lord.”
“Half Time Lord-”
“What about the Doctor?”
“One who hasn't blown up my planet. Anyway it helped me, the previous me, made me feel better.” Romana cleared her throat awkwardly and presented Donna with a black box. “And I brought you a present, Merry Christmas.”
“Ooh, it's a pen,” said Donna flatly.
“A sonic pen. I had go rooting through bins on Brook Street to find this, and I nearly ran into himself.”
“Better come in, then. Mum always makes enough food for a small army and we've only got about half an hour until the Christmas tree goes mad and tries to kill us all.” And with that Donna grabbed Romana's hand and pulled her into the house.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Donna/Romana
Rating: PG
Summary: My favourite impossible thing.
A/N: Written for selenay936 in the dw_femslash ficathon.
1.
Sunday morning and Donna Noble opened her front door armed with a hangover and a cup of coffee to find a small blonde woman wearing an astonished expression pointing a glowing, bleeping stick at Donna's chest.
“You're an impossible thing,” she breathed.
“Oh, bugger off.” Donna slammed the door in the woman's face.
2.
Monday lunchtime and Donna was eating a sandwich in the tiny Health and Safety office during her lunch break when she heard the sound of running feet. She was about to write it off as the IT boys playing silly buggers when the weirdo from yesterday ran past. She'd given some thought to getting a restraining order, but there was something about being followed by a cryptic blonde that gave her a comforting feeling of deja-vu. Anyway, she didn't think the blonde was dangerous, bloody odd, but not dangerous.
“Hello,” said the blonde, backtracking and stopping in the doorway to Donna's office. “I should have known I'd find you here. Your Time Lord consciousness automatically tunes into extra-terrestrial signals.”
“Yeah. And I work here.”
“Tell me, if you had to guess who in this office was a robot hell bent on the destruction of the human race who would you say it was?”
“The human resources manager, definitely.”
“Thank you, Donna Noble.”
“Oi! How do you know my name?” Donna looked at her half eaten cheese sandwich and nearly full cup of tea, snorted in disgust and headed up the stairs after the blonde. She got to the top floor just in time to see the face of Ian, the sweaty and unpleasant human resourced manager, fold back to reveal a mass of circuits and cogs.
He was a robot. Ian. Was. A. Robot. He'd grabbed her arse. That was disgusting. Before Donna could articulate how much this discomfited her two lasers shot from the tiny guns that were now mounted where Ian's eyes had been. Using reflexes she didn't know she had Donna dived for cover behind a desk. Before she could implement the second part of her plan (crawling under the desk) her mystery blonde pulled out her bleeping stick, the same one as she'd previously pointed at Donna, pointed it at Ian and his robot head exploded.
“Oh, my god! You pointed that thing at me. Is that what you were going to do to me, TNT my head!?”
“No, I've been slowly dismantling the mental barriers so the shock doesn't kill you.”
“Well,” shouted Donna, “excuse me for not finding that a comfort!”
3.
“What's your name, anyway?” Once Donna accepted that her stalker wasn't going anywhere, and had proved herself useful in the weird robot hallucination department, she saw no reason they shouldn't be on first name terms.
“Romana.”
“And what, exactly, are you doing at my work's Christmas party?”
“I was invited.” Donna snorted. “I was,” Romana insisted, “I did prevent everyone in your entire office from being used for spare parts.”
“You're a nutter.”
“And you're an impossible thing.”
“And what the flipping hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It's a free bar, you know.”
*
Donna took a gulp from the latest in a long line of glasses of free champagne and came to the conclusion that it was possible that she might be slightly drunk. She knew for a fact that Romana was drunk even though she hadn't seen the other woman touch her glass, sober people didn't talk this much tripe.
“I've been bringing the mental barriers down gradually but the incident with the robot accelerated the process so we've got no choice but to do it now.”
“Listen, lady,” Donna's voice sounded distant to her own ears. “If that's a chat up line you were having more luck with the impossible thing shtick.”
“I put something in your drink.” Donna’s head felt muggy, she tried to get up and failed. No one noticed, it was the office Christmas party and the only one who wasn't drunk was Romana. “Chemically reversed retcon, together with the amount of alcohol in your system it should allow you to survive the neural implosion.”
“Should?” Donna hissed through gritted teeth.
Romana smiled. “I'm rather making this up as I go along; there's never been a human - Time Lord metacrisis before. You're an-”
“I know, I know, I'm an impossible thing. Lucky me.” Donna bent over, closing her eyes tight against the pressure she could feel building up behind them. “Oh, God…”
“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.”
“I’ll show you ‘hurts,’ Mrs.”
“What do you remember?”
“Everything. I am going to kill the Doctor.”
Romana leaned over and squeezed Donna's hand. “I know exactly how you feel.”
Donna grabbed hold of Romana's hand so hard that her nails nearly broke the skin. “I'm not going to survive this, am I?”
“Don't be hysterical. We just have to siphon the excess vortex energy into a biological receptacle.”
If Donna had been capable of it she would have curled up in the foetal position. The pain in her head was overwhelming, it felt as though her skull was about to crack into a million pieces. And that's when Romana leaned across the glass strewn table, took Donna's face in her hands and kissed her.
Immediately the pain in Donna's head decreased enough for her to think again. And her first thought was that you should have an alien consciousness trying to crack its way out of your skull before every first kiss, because this was amazing.
Romana pulled back. “How are you feeling?”
Donna opened her mouth to say something, and promptly fainted dead away.
4.
“It's bigger on the inside,” noted one of the revellers who Romana had shanghaied to carry Donna into her TARDIS.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“It's the night bus to Chiswick,” said Romana.
“But I don't live in Chi-”
Romana's look shut him up.
5.
Donna's front door was answered surprisingly quickly by an elderly man in a dressing gown.“Donna. Oh, Donna, what have you done to my granddaughter?”
“Unblocked her memories, restored her Time Lord conciousness and and prevented her having a very unpleasant hangover tomorrow morning.”
“But you can't,” Donna's Grandfather was cradling her unconscious body. “The Doctor said she'd die, that it would kill her.”
“The Doctor doesn't know everything.” Romana backed away towards the TARDIS. “She'll be fine. She'll be superb.”
6.
Christmas morning and Donna opened her front door to find herself faced with a tall woman with olive skin wearing a very nineteen eighties white leather jacket. Knowing all about regeneration now Donna knew instantly who it was.
“Romana.”
“My favourite impossible thing.”
“How did you get yourself killed?”
“Daleks. Again. I wanted to say that knowing that there was another Time Lord alive-”
“Half Time Lord.”
“Half Time Lord-”
“What about the Doctor?”
“One who hasn't blown up my planet. Anyway it helped me, the previous me, made me feel better.” Romana cleared her throat awkwardly and presented Donna with a black box. “And I brought you a present, Merry Christmas.”
“Ooh, it's a pen,” said Donna flatly.
“A sonic pen. I had go rooting through bins on Brook Street to find this, and I nearly ran into himself.”
“Better come in, then. Mum always makes enough food for a small army and we've only got about half an hour until the Christmas tree goes mad and tries to kill us all.” And with that Donna grabbed Romana's hand and pulled her into the house.