FIC: Songs, Shots, and Shocks (1/2)
Title: Songs, Shots and Shocks
Genre: Doctor Who
Rating: T
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: Prompt fic for hezikiah's birthday. The Eighth Doctor investigates an alien disturbance on Earth and runs into a rather determined birthday girl. Nothing in his training prepared him for this. And his later self is unprepared to deal with a shocking reminder.
Disclaimer: I don't know if this would fall under what Paul McGaan meant when he said, in answer to my question of how Eight and Donna would've gotten along had they met, that they would've had adventures. Said in a rather intriguing tone, FTR. But I'm positive that The Powers That Be would be horrified. (Which wouldn't be such a bad thing.) Anyway, not mine.
Dedication: hezikiah, who gave me this prompt for her birthday. And, as always, tardis_mole for betaing and making sure it didn't suck.
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, my friend. Life has been a pain in many ways, not the least to my muse. So I decided to use Camp NaNo to make myself write and finish this one. I also owe thanks to a member of my writing group, Kristin. She's not even a Whovian, but I told her the prompt and she provided the title. She has no idea how fitting part of it is.
My dear hezikiah has been through a lot lately. In addition to moving the US debut of Stalking John Barrowman forward, her sister has been in the hospital. A form of cancer. I only hope that this helps bring a smile to my friend's face.
And my beta, tardis_mole, sends hir own wishes of support.
Songs, Shots, and Shocks
Started April 1, 2015
Finished May 7, 2015
CHAPTER ONE: PAST MEETS PRESENT
The controls on the console pinged. A disturbance had been detected.
The Doctor turned his head from the book he had been reading and took a deep breath. “Ah, time for another adventure. I wonder where it will be.”
He stood up from the chair he kept in the Reading Room (right next to the Control Room, minus any dividing wall between) and went to the controls. Immediately he frowned. “Graske? What are Graske doing in 1990s London?”
The TARDIS let out a warbling chime.
“I agree with you, Old Girl. This should not and cannot continue. Graske cause too much trouble. I hope it's only one this time.”
He quickly went through the piloting motions and landed. Rather smoothly compared to his more recent efforts. Then again, he had been recovering from regeneration sickness and amnesia. In many ways he was still recovering from the latter.
Once landed, he grabbed his velvet coat, made sure his sonic screwdriver was in his pocket, and headed toward the doors. But another chime stopped him. His eyes widened. “Why bring my ukulele?”
Another uncertain chime sounded.
He shrugged. “Well, it can't hurt.” So he drew it out of a container hidden under the steps leading off the main area, hung it over his shoulder, and then finally went out.
He looked around once outside and cringed. It was summer in London, and not so comfortable. “Sun and heat. I would love to come to Earth and find a cloudy day in the autumn or spring. That's the perfect weather.”
Discreetly he drew out his sonic to scan. It was late enough in the day that the sun was setting, and Londeners were leaving their jobs were heading for the pubs. So no one was paying him any mind.
Good, he thought. It meant the perception filters were working perfectly. Although he was not so worried if he had to interact. He had talked his way out of situations when he wore the very noticeable multi-colored coat, and this had to blend in more.
The sonic suggested he needed to head to one pub in particular. The Graske life-signs were the strongest, but it looked like he had no more than maybe three to deal with. Hard to tell at this distance. So there was nothing for it.
He crossed the street, making sure he would not cross paths with anything he should not. He was in no mood to have another sudden regeneration on his hands. He was still getting used to this body, and he was yet to learn all of its quirks.
The moment he entered the pub he cringed again. The music reminded him of the ways the monks in charge of his education at the Academy had punished the initiates for infractions with - however minor. The ways they would use electricity had later come to mind when he first saw what Humans called electroshock therapy. Anyone who thought that Earth had barbaric methods had not seen the less pleasant side of his own people.
And he would not wish that on anyone. He still wondered if Jamie and Zoe would ever recover their memories. He was positive his people had managed to put in a block to prevent him from finding them.
Oh, he was a Time Lord. So he had a high tolerance. Did not mean that he would enjoy the crassness or lack of musicality that much of this part of Earth seemed to have sunk to. What did it say about the Human obsession with sex that a song about self-pleasuring whenever thinking about a love interest was acceptable?
He noticed the Graske. He was certain that the Humans present would not, since the being's own perception filters were on strong. So he appeared like a dwarf who was cheering the football match. But the Doctor could tell instantly what he was really doing: getting the Human patrons so drunk that they would be able to be captured for whatever plan it had in mind. Usually ones that ended in the Human's death.
He then saw who the Graske was offering drinks to: the Human woman dancing to the music. The Doctor turned his head to look properly at her and stilled. The sunlight filtering through the windows caught her ginger locks as she swayed to the tune, her hip movements suggesting she had some experience with belly dancing. Her curvy figure would have been ideal as a model for Goya or any of the other artists known for drawing nudes, and the Doctor wondered if the sharp comments of some of the females present was merely envy because she had a figure that screamed about her fertility.
He instantly decided it must be the case. Anyone who knew anything would know better than to think a skinnier body was better. Surely Humans could not all be that obsessed with thinness.
But there was something about her that was familiar. Like he had seen her once in the Untempered Schism. Yes, that had to be it. He was destined to travel with her, but it seemed like their paths were meant to cross here and then part for a time before converging for far longer. Yet something about the pattern in Time seemed incomplete.
He would worry about that later. First he had to deal with this Graske, who had decided to approach the woman as she walked toward her friends - whose catcalls were the loudest and meanest - and passed by.
“Have one on me!” cried the Graske.
The woman laughed and smiled as she waved it off. “Ah, my mates and I have a bottle already. But thanks.”
“Oh, what's the harm?”
“I'm not in the mood for pints tonight.” Her tone was getting tighter, like she had decided he was not worth her time.
The Doctor stepped up, having settled that it was time to intervene before the Graske could get angry. That was never a good thing to see, and it was best that these drunk Humans did not have to know. A riot could start otherwise.
“The lady said she's fine,” he interjected, grabbing the Graske's arm.
The Graske stiffened, clearly smelling what he was. “Um, I meant no trouble.”
“Oh, but I think we need to talk.”
Not that his tone left any room for discussion. And the Graske swallowed, his own self-preservation kicking in.
The woman smiled. “Oi, handsome. Join us a moment after you're done!”
It sounded like a command. And the Doctor did not like commands. “You seem like a cozy party by yourselves.”
“Oh, the way my... friends are acting I'll take the bottle for myself. It's my birthday, it's for me, really. Have some shots with me.”
The Doctor was not a fan of drinking, but there was something about her smile and the expression in her eyes that made her company seem infectious. In the best way. “Very well, I'll be back. Without him.” He took a step and then paused to take off his ukelele. “Hold on to this for me?”
She smirked as she took it. “Well, then you'll have to come back to collect it.” She winked at him and walked to the side. But not before looking back in alarm.
Spotting the giant insect that the Graske liked to keep as pets, the Doctor quickly drew the Graske toward a side room, where his knowledge from previous lives told him would be a side area where he could deal with him without attracting any attention. Mostly for staff, but given the busy state of the front he doubted anyone would have the time to check.
There was much shouting (muffled once the Doctor felt it necessary) and struggling (futile since a Gallifreyan out-matched a Graske even on a bad day), but it was a piece of cake to trigger the TARDIS' remote transport to trap the being in a prison until he could simply turn him over to the Shadow Proclamation. At least he had managed to arrive before this one could capture any Humans.
A good day already. Of course, any day where nothing went wrong on an adventure was usually a sign that something else would. Or that the adventure was not yet over.
The Doctor stepped back into the main room. The music was little better, but it was at least less questionable in its content. Mostly.
The ginger was now sitting by herself, her friends nowhere in evidence. She waved him over when she saw him.
Uncertain whether this was the best thing to do, but willing to try a lot of things once, the Doctor strolled over. He ignored the intrigued looks from some of the other female patrons and focused a charming smile on her. “What happened to your friends? You didn't send them home, did you?”
“Oh, some I would've the way they mocked my dancing. I mean, I know I'm nothing amazing, but it don't give them the right to act like they're better when they're not. Besides, a few thought I should... have the chance to talk to you without them around. They outvoted the others.”
He wondered what she meant. “What are you having?”
She blinked. “You've never seen a bottle of Jack Daniels before?”
“Can't say I'm much of a drinker.”
“Oh. Are you a light drinker?”
“When I drink I can handle a lot.”
“Ready to put your money where your mouth is, Sunshine?”
Ah, she was the type who liked to give nicknames. She might be fun. So his smile increased. “Let's find out what kind of trouble we can get into.”
She blushed under his gaze. Yet she poured them each a shot without hesitation.
/=/=/=/
Hours later he stumbled into the TARDIS. Alone. Oh, she had almost invited him into her flat, and he knew just enough to know what that likely meant. Not that he was not tempted, but she was drunk and he would not take advantage of her, and he had the feeling she wouldn't take advantage of him either, if she had known he was also drunk. He had the ability to hide it better. At least, he told himself that.
So he used the excuse that he traveled a lot, and pointed out her state. Which made her insist that he was just as drunk.
Which was ridiculous. He was not too drink to pilot. Drink? Oh, dear. This whiskey was potent indeed!
He slowly made his way to the Infirmary. There was a strange scent wafting in the air, something almost musky with a hint of something else. She had hugged him tightly, and he swore she had put something in his pocket.
But his senses were too distracted to focus on it. Instead it was all he could do to keep his attention firmly fixed on getting to treatment. And when he did he noticed that their dancing had torn a few holes in the coat. And he had spilled whiskey on himself.
Oh, well. There was this new outfit he was thinking of trying out. Maybe he would change into that.
If he was lucky, he would remember the woman's name and be able to find her again. She had the funniest sense of humor. He would never forget her description of a certain Earth arachnid, triggered by her sighting of the Graske pet.
He never thought about the night again. Not for centuries, that is. Not until his Tenth regeneration was telling tall tales to his then companion.
Who happened to be a curvy ginger woman who laughed at his description of his antics.
/=/=/=/=/
“Come off it, Spaceman! You have to be kidding me!”
“You've seen the Racnoss, and a Vespiform. Is it hard to believe that there could other large species like the insects of your planet?”
“Well, yeah. The Vespiform...” She shuddered. “God, makes me think of scorpions. I hate those things!”
“Why?” he asked as he took a sip of his tea.
“I keep having nightmares about one that looked like the bastard child of a crab and a wasp.”
He choked.
“Doctor? Are you alright?”
“Yes,” he gasped. “Just... I need a moment.”
“You sure it's safe for you to be alone?”
“Positive. Just a little liquid down the wrong way. I'll be fine.”
He hurried out of the kitchen. But he did not head to the Infirmary. Instead he rushed to the Wardrobe.
He quickly found the section where he kept his old outfits, which he would sometimes look through as a walk through memory lane. But he was looking for one thing in particular.
It took him a bit, but there it was. His Eighth regeneration's first coat. Complete with tears in it from accidents at a pub and stains from spilled alcohol.
And that scent.
He opened the pocket and his eyes turned wider than the grating openings in the Control Room. A shaking hand drew out the lacy teal fabric.
Underwear. A woman's underwear. The ginger woman he'd saved had slipped her underwear into his pocket. A woman who had particular opinions about scorpions.
It was Donna. She had fancied his Eighth regeneration and let him know in a drunken manner.
He paled. How could he face her now?
Then his pale face scowled. What did that shorter self have on this him?!
Maybe he should risk asking. No matter the embarrassment. She had to know that not all the good men were disinterested in women, especially a brilliant women like her.
But how the hell would he mention it? Could he wait for her next birthday? How would she react if he took her back to the scene of the crime?
End of Chapter Note: The delightful Mr. McGann holds very little blame in this. Just saying. ;D
Chapter Two