The Continuing Adventures of Gruaigrua...

The Sum of His Parts Ch7/8

Tue, 21 Jul 2009 01:19:43 GMT

Title: The Sum of His Parts by gruaig_rua
Rating: PG-13
Series: Doctor Who/Torchwood

Characters: The Tenth Doctor (both of them), Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, PC Andy, Mickey, Martha.
Spoilers: Set post Journey's End, pre Children of Earth.
Summary: The Other Doctor achieves the supposedly impossible and returns... But why?

May cause triggers. Highlight for Warning – [Character death ]

Chapter 7

It’s funny the things that go through your mind when you know something catastrophic is going to happen. The Doctor thought back to when he first met Rose. Before he had any inclination to invite her on board the TARDIS as a companion. I can feel it, the turn of the Earth. The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour, and I can feel it. He sees the bullet moving in the slowest of slow motion as he feels the world turn and still the Doctor knows it’s going too fast to avoid its intended target.

It hits and the world stops.

The bullet smashed into his sternum, shattering the bone and sending shards into both hearts. The force of it knocked him off his feet, onto the ground. The pain was excruciating and were his lungs and throat not filling rapidly with blood, he would have screamed. The damage was so much worse than Los Angeles in 1999 and through the painful haze, as he clung tenuously to consciousness, the Doctor knew he had no choice but to regenerate. His doppelganger looked on, inscrutable, as the TARDIS interior was washed with a golden glow.

***

The Doctor came around, feeling like everything was uncomfortably tight. The band on his trousers dug into his waist as the buttons on his shirt strained against his chest. He wanted to open a couple of buttons to ease the discomfort, but couldn’t make his arms work. His vision focussed on a large, still damp, crimson stain down the front of his light blue shirt. That would be the blood from the bullet wound that just killed him, then. As the world returned to sharp focus, the Doctor soon realised why his arms were immobile. They were both stretched out and securely tied to the struts that formed part of the TARDIS security barrier.

“Sorry about that, but I hadn’t time to get you to the medical bay and I can’t risk you trying anything before I’m ready.”

“You killed me!” The newly regenerated Doctor shifted uncomfortably against the railing.

“Well, you gave me a life sentence, so let’s just call it even.” his clone snapped, before turning to the TARDIS console and working underneath it in silence, ignoring all attempts by the eleventh incarnation of the Doctor to engage him in discussion until he was sure he had everything set up to his satisfaction.

After a while, the other Doctor, having calmed down from his initial anger, gave his counterpart, who couldn’t see his new features, the once over. “Now let’s have a look at shiny new you. Brown eyes again, still have great hair, dark brown though, so still not ginger.”

“Oh no.” the new Doctor dryly quipped. “Maybe you should kill me again until we get it right.”

“Still rude.”

“Considering what you did to me and my current circumstances, you hardly expect me to be sweetness and light!” he pulled angrily at his restraints.

“I knew exactly what to expect from you which is why you’re safely restrained and out of my way… In some ways, it’s not entirely different to what you did to me – getting rid of me like that.”

The new Doctor protested. “I didn’t get rid of you…”

“You couldn’t wait to get shot of me.” the other Doctor snapped, standing up and towering over his captive. “Was it because I was wrong… like Jack? Is that why I couldn’t stay here?”

“You know why I sent you Pete’s World.”

“So under the guise of giving Rose a happy ending you abandoned me on a backward rock in the 21st century without so much as the sonic screwdriver – something you could have replaced in an afternoon, but something I’d have had to wait around 30 years to even make a start on and I don’t have the luxury of time anymore.”

“I brought you there for your protection.” the new Doctor said.

“Protection from what? From whom?”

“Yourself. And it would seem I failed miserably.”

“Ah yes… Blood and anger and revenge… or was it some sort of punishment because I finished off the Daleks? You know what they’re like. They don’t have compassion in victory or the humility to walk away from a battle when they know they’ve been defeated. They don’t stop, so I stopped them.” he hunkered back down in front of his prisoner. “Why is what I did so reprehensible? I didn’t do it for fun, you know. I did it because it was necessary. Why is it different to what happened to end the Time War, or what Rose did on the Gamestation? We all committed genocide against the Daleks, yet I didn’t get to travel through time and space as a reward. I just got exiled to Earth again and this time I didn’t even have my TARDIS for company.”

“You got the opportunity to live out your life, in full, with someone you love.” the new Doctor snapped. “I went on alone.”

“No!” the other Doctor rose angrily to his feet and started pacing on the metal grille in the console room. “You bring that all on yourself. When we towed the Earth back from the Medusa Cascade, we were surrounded, in here, by people who loved us… The closest thing we’ve had to family in years. So not only did you cut me off from travelling in the TARDIS, but you cut me off from them too. Sure there was a Donna, Martha and Sarah Jane on Pete’s World, but they weren’t my Donna, Martha and Sarah Jane. I thought maybe I could form new friendships with them, but they weren’t the same people.”

“You had Rose.”

“IT WASN’T ENOUGH!” the other Doctor exploded. I needed so much more than just to play happy families with Rose Tyler…” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “And the funny thing is, so did she. Rose fought so hard to get back to you - you have no idea what she risked - and without even asking her what she wanted, you left her back at square one. Bad Wolf Bay was the last place in the universe she wanted to be and having me there didn’t make it better. If anything, it made it worse because Rose saw in me everything that she’d lost too. She didn’t just love us. She loved the travel and the adventure as much, but you couldn’t see beyond that massive Time Lord ego of yours to see that it wasn’t All About You, you know.”

“So… what, you just left her?”

“We pretty much left each other.” he shrugged. “You see, I’m The Other One. It didn’t matter that all I’ve ever known in my life is that I’m the Doctor. I came into being with over 900 years worth of memories and experiences, but I didn’t have a TARDIS, or sonic screwdriver and, let’s face it, a week in the Italian Alps really can’t compare to sweeping her off to Woman Wept.” the other Doctor looked lost and bereft. “You may have told Rose that I’m the same man, but nobody else saw it that way, not even Rose. In reality, I was never going to be the Real Doctor to anyone who knows you. I was the cheap knockoff. The consolation prize.” he spat it like an insult.

“I’m sor…”

His counterpart angrily interrupted. “Apologise to me and I swear, I will kill you again!” Not wishing to continue the conversation, he stalked back over to the console and began tinkering.

The new Doctor set about finding some way of releasing himself from the bindings that held him secure. It didn't take too long to realise it was a futile exercise and to concentrate on winning round his counterpart - or attempt to distract him at any rate. "How did you do it? How did you get back after all the fractures had re-sealed themselves?"

"I did what you did when saying goodbye to Rose. I found a micro fracture, but instead of having to create a supernova, I used the dimension cannon to pinpoint and concentrate the energy. It’s small, but perfectly formed and about 30 feet underwater, but I’m sure you’ll find something in the bowels of Torchwood to move it into the Hub. There was always a risk of collapsing 2 universes, but as you can see," the other Doctor waved his hand around the console room. "it didn't happen."

"Would you have cared?"

"Oh Doctor, you wound me! Y'know, I'd forgotten just how sanctimonious you can be sometimes." the other Doctor shook his head. “I’ve created a stable link between the two universes and all you can do is judge me.”

“I’d give you a congratulatory round of applause only… you know” he waved his bound hands.

“So feel free to drop over there whenever you like. You can go visit Rose and get that mortgage. You’ll need alternative accommodation because you won’t be staying in here for a while… You can refine the cannon while you’re there. Iron out all those little kinks I didn’t have time for. That pesky human need for lots of sleep slowed me down considerably.”

“How exactly did you manage to do it in secret, if it took so long?

“I had no gadgets or technology so I pretty much had to rely on alternative methods.” the other Doctor, cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t have a sonic screwdriver, but I had my persuasive charms.”

“Mind control?” the new Doctor was horrified.

“Needs must and all that. I couldn’t sonic locks in the middle of the night so I just asked really nicely for the door to be opened and to be left alone to do what I had to do.” the other Doctor shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like I mind wiped a couple of years out of someone’s life, is it?" he stalked angrily over to his captive. "Oh yes. Martha told me about what you did to Donna, you bastard.”

“Would you rather she was dead?” it was the new Doctor’s turn to be angry. “Don’t get all high and mighty and tell me there was another way, because you know there wasn’t! Her mind was breaking down too fast to even put her in stasis. It would have been destroyed in minutes and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to Donna.” The new Doctor sighed wearily, all 904 years reflecting in his tired eyes. “She’s alive, that’s the important thing."

“And I can’t go anywhere near her looking like this, because it will kill her.” he wearily rubbed his eyes. “All this way, after all this time and all I’ve done is completely destroy the relationships with the very people I cared about.”

“Martha and Jack?” A sense of panic rose in the new Doctor’s voice. “What did you do to them?”

“Nothing permanent, nothing that would hurt them…" his guilty tone earned him an incredulous scoff from his prisoner. "Stop looking at me like that! I’m not a monster. I did what I had to do to get back to the TARDIS, but I would never physically harm them.”

“So, let me get this straight, you came back because you missed all your VBFs and in doing so you’ve alienated the very people you wanted to return to? Are you sure that’s a Time Lord brain in there? Because, quite frankly, you’re behaving like a retarded ape!”

“Oooh, sticks and stones with a side order of superiority! What’s for dessert?”

“Tell you what, seeing as you’re screwing up all your Earth based relationships, why not pop round to Chiswick for tea with Donna. She’ll simply die when she sees you!”

“My first mistake was not gagging you, you know that?”

"Te-le-pa-thy." the new Doctor exaggerated each syllable as if he were teaching the pronunciation to a child. "Like mind control, only less of an intrusion."

“Like you’ve been trying to do since you woke up?” the clone Doctor scratched at his temple. “Nice to see you’re not adverse to lowering yourself to my standards! I may be human but I’ve got a Time Lord brain. You don’t just get to sneak in there and make a few helpful suggestions about loosening ropes… Or didn’t you think I’d notice?”

“Where are you going to go?”

“Everywhere, every when… Anywhere but here, that’s for certain. I’ve had enough of 21st Century Earth to last me a lifetime. And the people that know me will have no desire to ever see me after what I did to them.” The other Doctor hunkered down in front of the new incarnation. “Anyway, all the main TARDIS controls are locked out to anyone but me. There’s no point in trying to crack them because we both know our own brilliance and you’ll never figure it out. Besides, I have, at most, 60 years of this and then you get it back. Sixty years, that’s nothing. It’s the blink of an eye to you, I have it all set up so that when I die, it all reverts to you.”

“So what’s to stop me killing you the minute I’m untied?”

“Nothing.” the other Doctor shrugged. “But I’m betting you won’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to kill the Daleks, you could barely see your way to punishing the Master… Can’t see you killing a part of yourself.”

“You’re that sure? Remember, I’m not you anymore.”

“Well, there’s always the massive paradox that will be created if you do.”

“Obviously I’m still suffering the after effects of regeneration,” the new Doctor drawled with more than a hint of sarcasm. “so feel free to elaborate.”

“River Song.” came the reply. “If I, meaning the incarnation of the Doctor who looks like this, don’t have a long, happy relationship, gadding about the likes of Byzantium and Asgard with her until she goes to the Library…” He made a noise that sounded like and explosion, accompanied by appropriate hand gestures. “Remember her description of your time together and how you didn’t recognise yourself in it? That’s because she was talking about me.

“But she knew about me having two hearts and regenerating.”

“She also knows our name, don’t forget that. Obviously to ensure the timeline, I’ll have to embellish a little, but judging by the condition of River’s diary, we’ll have a lot of opportunities to talk to each other.” The other Doctor looked around the console room feeling content for the first time in years. “I’m going to head off out into the universe, in this TARDIS, to find Professor Song and have that predestined relationship that you found so unappealing.”

“I never said…”

“You didn’t have to! It’s all in here.” he tapped the side of his head. “But three years stuck in the one spot, taking part in the daily grind, changes your perspective. The idea of searching for her and travelling with someone who possesses her sense of adventure? Let’s just say it kept me going long after my relationship with Rose fizzled out.”

“Wait… you’re saying you killed me so we wouldn’t look alike anymore?” the new Doctor snapped. “You couldn’t have done something a little less drastic, like grow a beard?”

“The plan had been to do what I did all those centuries ago. Just steal the TARDIS and run away from everyone. I’d finally get to live out my life doing the thing I loved. But then Martha told me about what you did to Donna and I couldn’t stop thinking about what you did to Rose and me… Because it’s all about you, isn’t it? You make decisions regardless of how it affects anyone but you and everyone else suffers as a result.”

“And I needed to be punished is that it? Give you your pound of flesh?”

“I didn’t kill you for revenge, or fun, for that matter. I came to the conclusion that I needed the insurance because I know what I’m like, which means I know what you’re like. You’re incorrigible and you’d find some way of stopping me and I couldn’t trust you to not dump me in the nearest parallel universe again.”

“I’m sorry.” the new Doctor said with genuine regret. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Well you know what thought did!” the other Doctor muttered as he stood up. “Anyway, I’m not getting any younger and time’s a wastin’. You’re still going through the regeneration process and you need to rest. There’s little chance of that happening with you tied up in here, so…” he took the injector from his waistband and before his restrained counterpart could protest, he shot it into his leg.

The Sum of His Parts Ch6

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 12:53:27 GMT

Title: The Sum of His Parts by gruaig_rua
Rating: PG-13
Series: Doctor Who/Torchwood

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

“Doctor!” Jack said in a familiar tone, unaware of what had transpired with Martha.

“Captain” the Doctor replied in the same tone, giving him that small salute. It was almost like a practiced routine, although this version of the Doctor had no idea how many times Jack had met up with his other self since Bad Wolf Bay… if at all.

“You came back.” Jack said, unsure whether it should be a question or a statement.

“Yeah.” The Doctor sighed slowly. “It wasn’t how I’d imagined. I certainly didn’t plan on near death and hospitalisation.”

“Should you be up? Martha said you weren’t feeling well.”

“It’s just a headache. It’ll pass.” the Doctor shrugged.

“You had us worried there for a while.” Jack tried to bridge the distance between them. “Good to see you up and about.” The Doctor just nodded. “How’s Rose?”

“She’s good.” After a brief pause, a wide smile spread across the Doctor’s face. “She’s fantastic.”

“And she didn’t come with you?”

“She couldn’t because the gap was too small, besides I wasn’t prepared to risk anyone else until I knew it worked and was stable.” the Doctor explained. “The only problem is that it’s underwater. I hope between the TARDIS and Torchwood, we’ll be able to set up a permanent link somewhere a little drier.”

“So, what do you think of the place?” Jack gestured around the room. “You spent a lot of time here when you were just a hand, you know. You were my Doctor detector."

"Is it a good thing that I have absolutely no recollection of it?"

"Possibly! Why haven’t you contacted the TARDIS yet?” Jack asked, sitting alongside the Doctor. “I thought you’d be itching to get back on board from the moment you arrived.”

“Fear and trepidation?” the Doctor answered, sounding somewhat apprehensive. “Considering that I’ve had half of Torchwood on night duty scouring Cardiff for intergalactic bogeymen in my wake, I don’t think he’ll be too thrilled to see me! I know what I’m like. There’d be lectures and disapproving looks…” he sighed melodramatically, getting a smile from Jack .

“How long has it been for you? Mickey explained the whole thing about your universe moving faster than ours.”

“Just over 3 years. I don’t think this ageing thing agrees with me at all!” the Doctor drew Jack’s attention to a barely noticeable smattering of grey hair around his temples, just above where his sideburns used to be.

“And I thought I was the vain one here!”

“With good reason, I’m sure!”

“You’re flirtier than the other one!” Jack smiled.

“That would be my Donna side.”

“So you’re telling me, inside the skinny Time Lord, there’s a bolshie redhead dying to get out?” they both laughed. It was the tension breaker they needed. “I think I like you better!”

“Play your cards right and you just might get to keep me.” the Doctor grinned back.

“Oh promises, promises, Doctor!” Jack rolled his eyes. “You’re a bigger tease too!”

“And I have Torchwood clearance.”

“I know, I’ve seen the ID card… Nice picture by the way!” Jack gave him a sly wink. “Oh, I daresay we could find some use for you.”

“Now who’s teasing?” the Doctor smiled and focussed his gaze on Jack’s blue eyes. “Have I said how much I missed you?”

“Once or twice.” Jack smiled back, fully aware that the Doctor was laying it on a bit thick… and not really minding. “It’s so weird, looking at you – and I don’t mean this as an insult – You’re not him, are you? You look alike, but even after a few minutes with you I can see you’re different people. You’re part him, part Donna, part you… All you. Does that make sense?”

“You’re very astute, you know that.” the Doctor grinned.

“I also cook!” Turning to the Doctor, Jack hugged him tightly. The Doctor took this opportunity to take out the hidden injector gun and pressed it into Jack’s hip. He gasped at the unexpected sharp pain and immediately he felt his limbs weakening. The Doctor manoeuvred him down on to the examination table. “What are you doing?” Jack tried to struggle against him, but had no strength to stop the Doctor securing Jack’s wrists in the restraints. He tried calling out for help, but there was no power in his voice. “Doctor stop, please.”

The Doctor gently stroked Jack’s cheek. “Just let it work, Jack. Just go to sleep.” The last thing Jack was aware of before he passed out, was the Doctor‘s soft lips on his forehead, kissing him tenderly by way of an apology and, no doubt, a final farewell.

As he crept through the Hub, the Doctor was wracked with guilt at how he’d used his friends. Used their unwavering loyalty and love against them to get what he wanted. With his training as a Time Agent, there was no point in even trying to mentally control Jack and with his 51st century physiology, he’d be awake sooner than the others, so it was necessary to tie him up, rather than risk an overdose. Even though the Doctor knew Jack would come back to life, the idea of killing him for expediency was abhorrent. Martha’s manipulation had been easy. She was too open and trusting of him, too malleable, despite - or maybe because what they’d been through together. Maybe one day they’d forgive him. Probably a lot sooner than he’d forgive himself. It had been a long time since he’d been that manipulative. The Master, had he been around to witness it, would have been proud! The Doctor decided that sedating them was quicker, more expedient and less likely to fail. He could easily control all of them, but this wasn’t about bending people to his will. This was about escape.

“Fancy a coffee?” Martha asked Mickey as they waited for Jack to finish talking with the Doctor, with no idea as to what was transpiring downstairs.

“More than you could possibly believe.” Mickey dragged his hands down his face in an attempt to stave off the tiredness. “At this hour of the morning, there’s no point in attempting to get some sleep. They say unless you can guarantee 4 uninterrupted hours, you’re better off staying awake.”

“Mickey, many’s the night I would have considered three straight hours sleep a luxury! You wouldn’t have lasted 2 weeks as a medical student!” Martha smiled.

“I wouldn’t have lasted a day! All that blood and guts?” he pulled a face.

“This is the bloodiest and gutsiest place I’ve ever worked. Way worse than Saturday night A&E!” she exclaimed.

“Ah, but it’s alien blood and guts. Totally different.”

“I’ll take your word for it!” Martha patted him on the shoulder and went to start on the coffees. “Milk, three sugars, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Mickey grinned in her direction. “I’m trying to cut back!”

Martha made the short walk to the canteen where the smell of a fresh coffee permeated the room. Ianto had put on a fresh pot when the men had returned and Martha wondered if he didn't have some sort of clairvoyant gift because of his unerring knack of anticipating their needs! He was sat at the table, his head face down, using his arm as a pillow. Martha wasn't surprised. It had been a long night and she wasn't adverse to catching a few minutes sleep here and there when she had the opportunity. It would have been better for him to be on the nearby sofa, rather than an uncomfortable plastic chair. She gently rubbed Ianto's back to wake him up and got no response. "Ianto?" Martha said quietly, nudging his shoulder. Still no reaction. She repeated his name louder and gave a firmer nudge, causing his free arm to slide off the table and dangle lifelessly. Martha’s heart thudded in her chest like a hammer. Ianto wasn’t asleep, he was unconscious. Her first instinct was to cry for help for her fallen colleague, but that would compromise her safety and position. Martha pulled Ianto down to the ground, put him in the recovery position and took his gun from its holster. She tapped her earpiece to activate it and warn the others what had happened. “Jack, Mickey.” she whispered anxiously as she crept quietly through the Hub. “Ianto’s down. The Hub has been compromised.” She listened for word from either of them. Mickey answered first, but was interrupted before he could say anything of substance. Martha ducked down out of the way, barely able to believe what she was seeing. The Doctor attacked Mickey as he was seated at his desk, silencing Mickey’s surprised cry with his hand as he shot him in the neck with the sedative they'd been joking about earlier. Creeping up behind them, she managed to catch the Doctor unawares. “Put down the injector and put your hands on your head.” she yelled trying to sound as authoritative as she could, despite the tremble in her voice and hands. He slowly turned towards her, but didn’t follow her orders. The adrenaline was pumping through her system and the uneasy sensation she’d had when phoning the TARDIS had returned, that feeling of dread that he’d done something to her. Martha could feel the tears well in her eyes. “So this is what you do now? Attack your friends? Control and abuse us?”

“It was the easiest way to deal with everyone. I’d rather sedate them, than play upon the emotions of people I care about.”

“Oh, now it’s upsetting for you to mentally assault your friends? Pity you didn’t think of that before you had me make that phone call.”

“I’m sorry I had to do that to you, Martha.”

“But that’s just it, Doctor. You didn’t have to! You could have asked for our help and we’d have gladly done anything for you.” There was no disguising the anger and disappointment in her voice. “Why couldn’t you just let me ring the TARDIS and tell him myself that you were back?”

“Because he’d never have come or he’d have turned you against me. Remember how we ended up on Malcassairo? That’s because we were running away from Jack… or rather he was.” the Doctor rolled his eyes. “Have you any idea how difficult it is to explain memories of something I technically wasn’t at?”

“Don’t do that! Don’t change the subject.” Martha snapped, sharpening her stance, and keeping her focus with the gun. “And what have you done with Jack?”

“He’s alright, I promise.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you now, after everything you’ve done here? Was anything you said to me the truth?” she couldn’t hide the heartache at his betrayal any longer and the threatened tears spilled down her cheeks. “That story you told me about working with Rose on the time cannon, you made that up too, didn’t you? Oh God, you probably spent all that time working on it by controlling Rose and the Tylers to get your own way.”

“Martha, it’s me.” the Doctor said, keeping his tone as light as possible. “It’s the Doctor. Same face, same memories.”

“No you’re not. Not anymore. You’re just someone who looks like him.” she said, keeping the gun trained on him, while keeping as much distance between them as possible. “You’re just like that clone the Sontarans made of me, because the real Doctor would never do what you just did to us. Now drop the injector and put your hands behind your head!”

He bristled at the comparison, but continued to use the same calm, familiar tone with her. “All the things we did together… All the fun we had?” his voice was so calming and reassuring in her head. Why would she do something as silly as point a gun at her friend? I mean, really… A gun? “You and me, time and space… Nibbles?”

Martha burst out laughing at the memory of the Doctor in a tux, filling his face with canapés, looking like a squirrel storing nuts in its cheeks for the winter, just as he was about to be introduced to her mother. “Oh my God! Bits of vol-au-vent down your jacket! Don’t they have napkins where you’re from?!” He inched towards her as she lowered the gun… And what was she doing with something as dangerous as a gun anyway? She hated guns!

The Doctor took the weapon from Martha and placed it on the table, he kissed her on the forehead and hugged her close. “Thank you Martha. It really was lovely to see you again… And I’m so sorry.” Pressing the high pressure injector against the soft flesh above her hip, he pulled the trigger and felt her slump against him as the sedative quickly took hold. The Doctor guided her gently to the floor, leaving her lying on her side and tucked the injector gun into the waistband of his trousers, concealing it beneath his shirt. Taking Ianto’s gun from where Martha had left it, he checked to see how many rounds were left.

His train of thought was interrupted by the familiar groaning noise of the TARDIS reverberating around the Hub. The Doctor’s heart leaped on hearing it and quickly found the spot where it was going to land, his years of work finally coming to fruition. Smiling, as his beloved blue box fully materialised in the Torchwood hub, he stood a few feet back from the entrance and raising his left hand, he clicked his fingers.

On board the TARDIS, the original incarnation of the tenth Doctor was at the console, in pale blue shirtsleeves, putting the handbrake on when the doors swung open. “Hello, what’s this then?” he jokingly said to his sentient ship. “In a hurry to get rid of me?” He strode down the gangway, pulling one arm into the sleeve of his jacket as he walked to the open doors. The Doctor froze in horror as he saw a man, the mirror image of himself, raise a handgun and fire.

Chapter 7

The Sum of His Parts Chapter 5

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 13:04:03 GMT

Title: The Sum of His Parts by gruaig_rua
Rating: PG-13
Series: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Characters: The Tenth Doctor (both of them), Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, PC Andy, Mickey, Martha.
Spoilers: Set post Journey's End, pre Children of Earth.
Summary:　The Other Doctor achieves the supposedly impossible and returns... But why?

Chapter 5
Martha leant against the examination table listening to the Doctor recount how he’d come to be in Cardiff. He preferred to stand and shuffle back and forth, seemingly unable to stand or sit still for any period of time… So nothing new there.
"When the Rift closed for good a couple of years back, the other Earth’s problem with global warming was all but solved. Their industrial revolution was much more carbon neutral than yours." The Doctor explained as they wandered through the Hub. "So there had been a shift from an environmental programme to a more commercial one."
"And you couldn’t stop them?"
"There was also a shift in management and government advisors. Those of us who wanted to return to pre-Rift policy were definitely in the minority. I tried to show them what would happen."
"And with all your knowledge and experience they just ignored you?" Martha was astonished they could dismiss The Doctor in such a way.
"No TARDIS and no sonic screwdriver, pretty much guaranteed no say. I was just another member of the team against a cabal of soulless pen pushers who were more interested in the bottom line than the potential of what the find could yield." There was no disguising the disgust on the Doctor’s face. "I hated it there, eventually. Couldn’t wait to get shot of the place. It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that Mickey wanted to come back here."
"Wow, you make it sound like you were driven to leave." Martha frowned. "Was it really that bad?"
"How bad does it have to be to want to punch a hole in the Universe to get away?" Martha was unsure how to react. She knew the two Doctors were different, but it was only now, seeing how this newer version of the tenth Doctor was explaining things to her, that she could see just how different they were. "You have no idea what it was like, Martha." The Doctor pleaded with her to understand why he took the action he did. "You know me. Even back in 1913, when I was John Smith, I couldn’t get the thought of wandering through the stars out of my head. And I was stuck there with no chance of growing a TARDIS in my limited lifetime… I was trapped." She watched him pace back and forth across the room. Slow, measured steps, like he was trying to contain the manic energy within. "And I tried. I honestly, hand on my one, solitary, single, human heart, tried to deal with what I had been given, but I couldn’t."
"It’s okay. Nobody’s accusing you ." Martha said softly. "If anything, I’d say the other Torchwood should be praising you for getting the time cannon to function safely."
That calmed him somewhat and he continued with his story. "It took a lot of time and a lot of work, but I managed to calibrate it so that it would create a stable connection. The problem before was that it punched a hole between the universes, leaving damage in its wake. Basically, I burrowed gently, ensuring the link was small and stable. Once that was established, the only way to properly test it was to send someone through and I wasn’t prepared to risk anyone’s safety but my own… which is just as well seeing as I nearly drowned."
"Is there nobody over there who can recalibrate it for you?"
"No." he shook his head. "What I did wasn’t exactly official Torchwood business. The only other person who knows about it is Rose and while she’s really good with the basics of the time cannon, the intricate, inner workings are just a little bit beyond her, I’m afraid."
"So that means you’re stuck here."
"Not quite. If I had access to the TARDIS, I could control things from this side and…"
"Bring Rose with you?" Martha smiled, finishing his sentence. He nodded and smiled back, looking more like himself... his other self (God this was weird!). Sensing his change in mood, Martha went to him and put her arms around the Doctor, like she’d been desperate to since he arrived. He happily returned her affection.
"Oh, it’s so good to see you, Martha Jones. It’s been too long, way too long." he leant back, still keeping one arm around her waist. "You haven’t changed a bit, you know." his hand gently caressed her face as she smiled bashfully at him. She was well over him romantically, but compliments were always welcome. "Now, I need you to do something for me." His hand stayed on her face. "I need you to ring the Doctor now. Can you do that for me?"
"Sure I can, absolutely!" Martha said, digging in her pocket for her mobile phone, still held in the Doctor’s embrace. "He’ll be thrilled to see you."
His fingers pressed into her temple. "And you’ll say only what I want you to say."
She looked quizzically at him for a moment, but then blinked and smiled. "Of course." she dialled the number and it was quickly answered. "Doctor, It’s Martha…" He watched her relay every word. "Can you come to Cardiff? Something’s come through the rift... It’s nothing life threatening and everyone’s fine, but we think you should see this. Jack says it would be better if you land inside Torchwood, rather than out in the Plas because they’re doing construction works all over the place and you don’t want the TARDIS landing in the bucket of a JCB." As the conversation went on, Martha had the strangest sensation. She was speaking, but it didn’t sound like her own voice in her head. She hung up feeling perturbed over what she’d just said. No mention of the other Doctor being there, just a message that sounded like something was wrong. Why should the Doctor’s return be wrong? "He’ll be here within the hour." she consciously avoided eye contact with him.
"Good. That gives me time to catch up with everyone before I have to leave."
She shook her head, like she was trying to clear a fog in it. "What did you do to me?" Martha suddenly felt uncomfortable that he was in her personal space.
He gave her that goofy grin that would normally melt her heart. "I want it to be a surprise. I like surprises. And I am him and he is me and we are all together."
Martha didn’t appreciate his humour. "So you decided to control me, rather than just ask me not to let the cat out of the bag?" before he could answer, she moved away, shrugging her shoulders like there was something crawling down her back such was her discomfort with him. "Look, I can hear Jack telling me they’re back." she fiddled with her earpiece. "I’ll go up and let him know you’re doing okay."
He reached out to take her hand. "Martha…" She hurriedly sidestepped him to make her way out of the medical bay. Catching her by the arm, he backed her against the wall and clamped his hand over her mouth. She struggled as her muffled screams reverberated around the room, but he used his body weight to pin her in place. "Shhh shhh shhh, Martha. You have to be quiet now." His voice was calm and even as he pressed his fingers against her temple once more. Once she was silent, he removed his hand from her mouth, to her other temple. "Everything’s fine, everything’s great, isn’t it." Her look of panic softened into a beaming smile. "Oh, it is so good to see you, Martha Jones." he wrapped his arms around her and they hugged each other tightly. "So good. Now, I’m just going to wait here until this headache passes, but I’d really love to talk to Jack."
"He’s upstairs and I know he’s dying to see you." Martha said excitedly.

Chapter 6.

The Sum of His Parts Chapter 4

Mon, 06 Jul 2009 13:03:35 GMT

Title: The Sum of His Parts by gruaig_rua
Rating: PG-13
Series: Doctor Who/Torchwood

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

“You can come in.” the Doctor called as Martha rapped quietly on the door. She had two large mugs of coffee, a carrier bag full of Chinese food and a couple of bottles of water. She entered to find the Doctor fastening the last button on a white shirt with an ingrained pattern that she recognised as Owen’s. The jeans were a size too large and hung loosely on his slim hips. His hair was towel dried and fingered back from his face. Out of the familiar pinstripe suit, he looked decidedly normal, like any guy you’d see on the street… A good looking guy that you’d probably watch after until he walked out of view! Martha smiled to herself. A couple of years ago, seeing the Doctor again would have made her all giddy and lovelorn. Now? Not so much… not really!

“I’m not entirely convinced your first meal should consist wholly of microwaved MSG!” Martha said. “But bless the boys and their need for take aways! Ianto usually orders something in on the off chance that one of us will be working late, so it’s still good.”

“Ianto?” the Doctor vaguely recognised the name as he shovelled forkfuls of rice into his mouth.

“Ianto Jones – no relation. Remember when me, Jack, Sarah Jane and Torchwood all hooked up onscreen?”

“Outer Space Facebook.” the Doctor nodded, recalling a memory that technically wasn’t his.

“He was with Gwen Cooper, who’s currently in Egypt. Makes great coffee.” Martha explained.

“There’s lovely!” the Doctor laughed. “Good Welsh name, Ianto Jones!”

“Speaking of names, you’re Andrew Smith now?” Martha asked. “Why the change from John and I'm sure you have a perfectly good reason for Spartacus!”

“It just didn’t feel right anymore.” he shrugged. “While we were waiting to get transport from the beach, Rose told Jackie how I came to be and she started calling me Handy Andy and it just kind of stuck. I toyed briefly with the name Hugh Mann,” he smiled as Martha rolled her eyes. “but Rose wouldn’t let me!” The Doctor took one of her hands and held it tightly between his. “I missed this. I missed everyone so badly… Usually I can cut people out and move on - And I know that sounds terribly cold, but it’s a necessity of living so long. I suppose my human half decided otherwise.”

“How’s that being human thing working out for you?”

“I missed my other heartbeat for a long time.” his hand subconsciously wandered up to the right side of his chest. “I didn’t miss my appendix at all, though! Good riddance to it!”

“You had your appendix out?”

“Didn’t you see the scar earlier?” he stood up and lifted his shirt, showing off the small indentation near his right hip.

“I’m not the one who undressed you, mister!” Martha pointed her fork at him. “You were tucked up in bed when we rescued you from St David’s.”

“Rescued me? I thought I was found in the water and brought straight to hospital.”

“You were, but we decided it would be better to get you to the Hub. Last time we spoke, you were part human-part Time Lord and we didn’t want civilians finding out which part was which and calling in the wrong people.”

“Oh, my physiology is all human - I found that out when I was willing myself to regenerate with the pain from my appendix! - Blood, organs, fingers, toes, the works.” the Doctor explained, wiggling his fingers as he went along. “The Time Lord part is all brain.”

“And what about your Donna part?” Martha smiled.

“I blame her for the appendix” he said dryily. “and my addiction to chocolate orange, oh and I can’t pass a copy of Heat! Magazine.”

“They have Heat! over there?”

“It’s an all-pervading, cross-universe evil that not even I can defeat!” he sighed melodramatically before taking a drink from his coffee mug.

This was more like it, Martha thought as they continued eating. While he wasn’t quite the Doctor she knew, it was good to see him relax and not be so apprehensive towards her. “When we’re finished, do you want the guided tour, seeing as you’re staff, these days?”

“I’d like that. I’ve landed on the Plas many times, but I’ve never been underneath. I had no idea that this place was even here!”

Martha stood up, picking up the leftovers of their kung po chicken. “Guided tour it is then. I’ll just take care of these and be back to you in a minute.” She left the room feeling much better about the situation. The Doctor was starting to sound like his old self... which was a bit odd because he wasn't his old self. This Andrew Smith version of the Doctor was his new self. She sighed loudly bringing her hair back off her face. The lack of sleep was starting to get to her. Her stints in UNIT and Torchwood had her spoiled with the lack of shift rotations she'd had to do, unlike normal work in a normal hospital... Then again, Martha Jones' life hadn't been anything near normal for a few years now.

She updated the men, letting them know the Doctor was doing fine. “… And is it okay if I show him around?”

“Of course.” Jack said. “Just keep him away from the Weevils until I get back. The last thing we need is the Doctor deciding to free them all.”

“Okay. No Weevils.” Martha repeated. “And we need to tell Gwen everything’s alright. Knowing her, she’ll try to get the first plane back and…”

“And we don’t need Rhys going off on one...” Mickey interrupted.

“Again!” Jack continued to stifled laughter from the rest of the team.

“I’ll update Gwen.” Ianto said. “We’re nearly finished out here, so we should be back at the Hub soon.”

Martha smiled “Okay, guys… And just to let you know, we finished the kung po and it was delicious. Bye.” Before the others could register their protest, she broke the connection. She’d just have to make sure she made up for it by getting pizza tomorrow. Martha reentered to find the Doctor standing by the bed, waiting for her with a broad smile. "Well Dr Jones, care to give me the full tour?" he offered his elbow.

"Don't mind if I do." Martha linked her arm through his and brought him through to the main work area. "We don't have a little shop, but we do have a little garden and a resident pterodactyl." she pointed to the high ceiling overhead as Myfanwy swooped in silent grace.

"Oh, that is beautiful!" he laughed. his eyes absolutely sparkling with delight. "Been a while since anything truly surprised me."

"She likes dark chocolate and barbeque sauce, as well as the odd sheep and weevil."

"So no petting the pterodactyl." he deliberately mispronounced the p in pterodactyl, making her smile.

"Not unless you have no further use for your hand, no."

“I like it here.” the Doctor said, looking around the Hub. “It’s eclectic, not a sterile office full of officious stick in the muds! And your coffee is much better than ours.”

“So how did you do it?” Martha asked as they continued on the guided tour. “How did you cross back from the parallel world?”

“I figured out how to work the time cannon properly. You ‘woodies tend to press buttons and ask questions later!”

“Woodies?”

“Short for Torchwood Employees. Keep up!”

“Excuse me, Andrew John Spartacus Smith, Torchwood Employee!” Martha ribbed him. “Surely you mean we ‘woodies seeing as you’re one of us too! Anyway, Mickey and me aren’t even that. I'm on secondment from UNIT until Jack sorts out a permanent medical officer and Mickey is kind of at a loose end since coming back from the other universe. Jack has him looking over the computers."

"Well, it makes sense. The tech is more advanced over there." the Doctor smiled. "And according to many of the Torchwood files I read, Mickey turned out to be quite the boffin!”

"If he doesn't plan on staying at Torchwood, I think Jack knows people who will utilise Mickey's talents. In the meantime, he’s happy to temp."

“Speaking of temps,” he brightened. “How’s Donna getting on with Himself? Has she completely overhauled the TARDIS? Is she being worshipped as a Goddess in a galaxy far, far away?” Martha’s sad expression dismayed him. “What’s wrong?”

“The Doctor - other Doctor - had to suppress her memories or she’d have died. She’s back in Chiswick with no idea of what happened in the last couple of years.” she explained. “None of us can see her, in case we trigger her memories. The Doctor said the metacrisis was too much for her to handle”

“So he just mindwiped her?” the Doctor was horrified. “Just like that? No attempt to come up with a solution?”

“I’m sure he tried…”

“Oh I’m sure he did!” he sneered. “Still, could be worse, she could have been dumped on a beach in a parallel universe.” The moment he said it, the Doctor looked like he regretted it. “I’m sorry, I’m taking my headache out on you.” he fidgeted, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands.

“A headache?” Martha switched back in to doctor mode and began examining him. She made him sit in a nearby chair while she took his pulse and flashed a penlight in his eyes. “How bad is it?”

“Annoying, rather than my head is about to explode!”

“So on a scale of one to ten that would be a three.”

“Martha Jones, you mock my pain!” the Doctor pouted. “It’s at least a three and a half!”

C’mon.” Martha took him by the hand. “I’ll get you something for it.” They went down to the main medical bay and Martha unlocked a cabinet full of assorted medication. The Doctor watched over her shoulder as she chose a painkiller for him.

"No aspirin, by the way. I'm allergic to it... or at least I think I am. I used to be when I was a Time Lord and I'm not too pushed to see if my human self can tolerate it." Martha turned around to see him standing with his hands in his pockets, leaning towards her, head tilted oh so slightly to one side. All he was missing was his brainy specs and she couldn’t help but smile as she remembered all the fun they’d had together. “That’s quite a stash you’ve got in there!” He was looking over her shoulder into the supply cabinet. “And from the looks of it, they’re not all local brew.”

“The mere sight of a medicine cabinet to fool around in and you’re feeling better.”

“I’m very easily distracted and anything that distracts me from the annoyance of this headache is a good thing.” While Martha sorted out something other than aspirin, he hovered over her for a closer view. “Now this certainly isn’t NHS approved, Dr Jones!” The Doctor reached over her shoulder and took out an ominous looking injector gun with a thick amber liquid in the chamber.

“Oh, you don’t want that.” Martha said. “Unless you fancy spending the next few hours on another planet.”

“Which planet? I hope it’s an interesting one. Haven’t been on another planet for ages.” he replied mischieviously, giving the contraption the once over.

“Planet Braindead! It’s a very strong tranquiliser that we keep on hand because it works on everyone – alien, human...”

“Jack?”

“Jack.” Martha confirmed, nodding her head.

The Doctor’s interest was piqued. “You’ll have to tell me that story.”

“Oh I don’t think it will be anywhere near as interesting as yours.” she smiled, handing him 2 small paracetemol tablets. “If they don’t work, we’ll consider Planet Braindead.” He left the injector down and swallowed the tablets back with some water. “Now Doctor, hows about you tell me how you got here?

Chapter 5

The Sum of his Parts Ch 3

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 20:18:37 GMT

Title: The Sum of His Parts by gruaig_rua
Rating: PG-13
Series: Doctor Who/Torchwood

Chapter Two

Chapter 3

There it was again... that thump, thump, thump noise. Slow and constant, familiar, but somehow not quite right. There was the occasional high pitched beep, like a lazy alarm clock, punctuating the rhythm, distracting him from his deep, pleasant, dreamless rest. As he regained consciousness, the Doctor became more aware of the digital beeping than the steady beat of his one heart and of the fact that this wasn't where he normally wasted 8 hours a night on something as time consuming as sleep. His eyes fluttered open and as he focussed, the Doctor looked around, slightly bewildered and at a loss as to what happened… And, more importantly, where he was.

“It’s okay.” A familiar voice said. “You’re safe.”

“Martha?” he asked, trying to hoist himself into a sitting position, while looking around the unfamiliar room.

“Hi.” she smiled, adjusting the bed for him.

He took her left hand with a bemused smile when he noticed Martha’s engagement ring. “I made it?” he asked as the vague memories of how he'd come to be there surfaced. "I made it!"

“Yes you did – just about.”

“Where am I?”

“Torchwood. You were rescued from Cardiff Bay.”

“Wales?” the Doctor screwed his eyes shut. “The Rift! How the hell could I have discounted the Rift?”

“Doctor, before we go any further, I need to ask if anyone came through with you? Should we be looking for someone else?”

“No, just me. It was too dangerous a risk.”

Martha nodded and activated her communicator. “Jack, it’s Martha. The Doctor’s awake and he tells me he’s the only one who came through from the other Torchwood so the water search at first light’s not necessary.” The Doctor watched on as Martha listened to Jack’s reply, a bright smile emerging. “I’ll tell him. See you soon.” she turned back to her patient. “Jack and Mickey are dying to talk to you. They checked in on you earlier, but you were still unconscious. Everyone but me is out at the moment. That’s the problem with Rift activity, one thing happens and it sets off a chain reaction.”

“I’m sorry. Sounds like I messed up everyone’s night.”

“Sometimes it’s a problem, most of the time, it’s not. We still like to give the hotspots a once over. They’ll check in soon enough and then you’ll have plenty of time to catch up.” she sat beside him on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

He was suspiciously eyeing the butterfly shunt on the back of his right hand. “Okay.”

“You had be put on a drip. You were dehydrated when you were picked up in the Bay… I’d rather not go into the kind of infection you could pick up there, so there was broad spectrum antibiotics in there too.” she removed it, quick and painless, covering the small puncture wound with a plaster. “There. No more needles… So, do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Are you here to interrogate me, Dr Martha Jones of UNIT and Torchwood?” the Doctor said with a hint of humour.

“Yes. Tell me all your secrets, or we won’t give you back your trousers and you’ll have to wear the backless dress as punishment!”

“It’s all academic anyway because the room is probably under surveillance.”

“I never knew you to be so paranoid! No, you’re getting the 5 star treatment, mister.” Martha poked him in the leg, knowing he was serious, but trying to make light of the accusation. “This is a private room for injured Torchwood staff. Everyone else gets strapped down and kept in the basement. No bugs, no cameras. Torchwood and UNIT can wait… All I care about is you. I’m not just here as your doctor, I’m here as your friend.”

“I suppose you’ve contacted the TARDIS.”

“Not yet.” Martha shook her head. “You were my priority, but now that you’re awake…” she took her mobile phone out and handed it to him. “You can ring him yourself.”

“Can we hold off on that for a while.” he gently pushed the phone back to her. “I’m still feeling a little…” he searched for the appropriate word. “discombobulated.” Martha smiled. It was such a Doctor word to use! “I thought I’d come through in Torchwood London, or at the very least Bad Wolf Bay. I never factored in the Cardiff Rift. I certainly didn’t factor in coming through several feet underwater! My human impetuousness winning out over my no longer infinite Time Lord patience!”

Martha noted he seemed annoyed with himself, as if he was unused to getting things so wrong. To break the uncomfortable silence, she checked the Doctor’s pulse and blood pressure. “I’m pleased to find that your vitals are relatively normal for a human Time Lord.”

“That’s good to know, but in the meantime, Dr Martha Jones, what do you say about letting your patient get a shower and a change of clothes? Because, in all honesty, aside from being a bit hungry, I feel fine.”

Martha checked her watch. It was coming up on 4 in the morning. “Because there’s only 5 of us and being a top secret organisation an’ all,” rolling her eyes, she grinned at him. “it’s not like we have a staffed canteen, but I’ll see what I can rustle up.” She pointed to a door at the other side of the room. “That’s the bathroom and there’s a supply of fresh clothes in the press beside you. I daresay you’ll find something to suit you… don’t touch Gwen’s stuff, though. She gets cranky!” Martha was somewhat surprised that her attempt at humour fell flat with him. He simply nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. “Right then,” she sighed quietly to herself. “I’ll sort out the food.” Closing the door behind her, Martha tapped her ear piece to activate it. “Just to let you know, the Doctor’s fine. He’s getting cleaned up at the moment.”

Jack responded first. “How is he?”

“Apprehensive, borderline non-communicative compared to what he’s normally like.”

“Guys,” Mickey interrupted, “We have to remember that he’s not himself. He’s not the Doctor Doctor, even though everyone’s expecting him to be. Give him a chance to adjust, bearing in mind he’s probably been gone longer than we think.”

Ianto offered his opinion. “I’m inclined to defer to the superior knowledge of my colleague with actual parallel universe experience.”

“Thank you, Ianto.” Mickey acknowledged him.

“Okay guys,” Martha said. “I’ll take it slow and easy with him. Hurry back!”

In the meantime, the Doctor was standing under a stream of warm water, hoping it would clear the leaden feeling in his head. There was certainly no way that it would undo the tension knot in his stomach. He just hoped he could keep his nerve and see his plan through to the end.

Chapter 4.

The Sum of His Parts Ch 2

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 18:56:50 GMT

Title: The Sum of His Parts by gruaig_rua
Rating: PG-13
Series: Doctor Who/Torchwood

Chapter One

Chapter Two

“We don’t have ID cards.” Jack replied from his office in the Hub.

“Do any of the other offices? London? Scotland?”

“Not to my knowledge. Send through the picture and we’ll take care of it and let you know how things go. You go back to your holiday.” he smiled. “Tell me if you find any aliens in the pyramids!”

“Bloody Stargate!” Gwen sighed, spooning into Rhys as both lay awake wondering what was happening all those miles away in Cardiff.

***

Martha Jones hated her mobile phone. Cursing it’s very existence, she fumbled around in the darkness as it blared out a nondescript techno tune. Barely able to focus on the caller ID, she answered with an unintelligible grunt.

“Not a morning person, are you?” Jack said in a cheery tone.

“S’not morning.” she mumbled. “S’middle of the night.”

“And I’m afraid we have a medical emergency.”

Martha sat bolt upright, instantly awake. “What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t long before she was outside St David’s hospital along with Jack, Ianto Jones and Mickey Smith, the other members of the Torchwood team. Mickey had his Torchwood ID from the parallell Universe to show how it matched the Doctor’s.

“There haven’t been any reports of any physical anomalies, so we have to assume it’s the other Doctor,” Martha said “but how did he get here?”

“There were no alerts on the grid.” Ianto frowned. “Some of the usual minor fluctuations.”

“Could he have come through in one of those?” Martha asked.

“It’s possible.” Ianto replied

“He knows the potential damage crossing back and forth can do. Maybe he refined the process to minimise any adverse effects.” Mickey hypothesised.

“Sounds like something the Doctor would do.” Jack nodded. “The only worry is, did he come through alone?”

“Do you mean Rose?” Mickey’s face dropped. “Oh my God, he came through in the water...”

“Before we start panicking, the police have been scouring the bay and haven’t found anyone else.” Ianto said, checking his watch. “I’ll get back to the Hub and crosscheck those fluctuations against the hotspots. They may have come through at different times and places. He was unconscious, she might be too.”

Mickey turned to follow. “I’ll go with you.”

“And we’ll get the Doctor.” Martha said, turning to Jack. “What’s your plan?”

“We get someone to take us to the Doctor, knock them out, have them swap places and then we smuggle him back to the Hub.”

Martha bit her lip, trying to be as tactful as possible. “Or we could get someone to take us to the Doctor, I flash my ID, tell them the Doctor is my patient and get him transferred to our private facility.”

Jack pouted. “My way is more fun.”

“Your way will spark a manhunt!”

“Spoilsport.”

“Drama llama!”

“Don’t make me turn the car around, you two!” PC Andy interrupted, prompting raised eyebrows from both Martha and Jack. “Anyway… shouldn’t you be rescuing” (he used air quotes) “your friend?” He led them through to A&E where the Doctor was under observation.

Smiling, Martha whispered to Jack. “I like him. He’s funny.”

“Come and work full time for me and I might let you keep him!”

“Andy and Ianto in a confined space outsnarking each other… Could I handle it, I wonder?”

“Nobody could outsnark Ianto!”

Their banter stopped on seeing the Doctor. His face obscured by an oxygen mask, a shunt in the vein on the back of his left hand and eyes closed as a monitor recorded his single heartbeat. Martha spoke with an harassed intern in scrubs called Charlie Shaw who had admitted ‘Mr Smith’. X-rays had shown no concussion. He was unconscious due to oxygen deprivation.

“Did he regain consciousness at all?” Martha asked as Dr Shaw looked through the Doctor’s charts.

“He opened his eyes briefly, but not enough to get a reaction from him. The patient was dehydrated when he came in… No alcohol in his system and his tox screen came back clean, so no drugs either.” Dr Shaw flipped through his information. “We found no internal injuries and, as you can see, no bruising on contusions. It’s just a waiting game now to see when he wakes up, if there’s any brain damage.”

“Can he be moved?” Jack asked looking over the Doctor.

“What, right now?” the intern was startled by the unexpected request.

“We have a bed available in a private facility.” Martha continued.

“No. Absolutely not!”

Martha flashed her UNIT ID. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but Mr Smith needs to be moved for his own protection – and the hospital’s.”

“Well I, I don’t know.” The young doctor was flustered, caught between concern for his patient’s welfare and that of the hospital.

“I’m a qualified doctor so his medical needs will be met.” Martha pressed her point home. “Captain Harkness and PC Davidson will ensure Mr Smith’s safety, but it can’t be here.” She went to the Doctor’s bedside. “Help me get him ready for transport so we can leave quickly and quietly.”

Exasperated, Dr Shaw shook his head. “Who am I to argue with UNIT? Is he some bigwig?”

“I’m sorry, that information is classified.” Martha said, unclipping the wires of the heart monitor.

“Who’s the Drama llama now?” Jack mouthed over to her, causing her to have to suppress a smile.

Martha and Jack were able to move the Doctor with minimal fuss due to the lateness of the hour. Having PC Andy as a police escort was a bonus! Jack had taken the Doctor's chart and would remotely hack into the Hospital's database and remove all reference, once they were back in Torchwood. They secured the gurney safely in the back of their utility vehicle and Jack drove them off while Martha remained in back with the Doctor. Jack thanked Andy for his help and discretion. Knowing that PC Davidson had been inadvertantly involved in Torchwood business before and had kept his silence meant that Jack didn't have to retcon him... And it was no harm to have a 'man on the inside' when it came to dealing with the Cardiff constabulary!

"We better ring him." Jack sighed, a couple of minutes into the journey.

"Do we have to do it right now?" Martha asked. "I'd rather get this one back to the Hub and make sure he's all right before we contact the TARDIS. If we contacted him now, he'd be in the way."

"I thought you'd be happy to see him." Jack said with a slight smile.

"I'll be delighted to see him when I have good news to tell him. In the meantime, I don't want the Doctor hovering around distracting me."

"Okay." Jack glanced at the rear view mirror. He could see Martha worriedly poring over this Doctor's chart. She had spoken to Mickey about travelling through the dimensions. He'd told her about the initial problems with dehydration, but they were able to counteract that when they refined the dimension jumper technology. The fact that the dimensions were breaking down due to Davros taking planets out of time made it much easier for them to dimension hop. Once they had returned the missing planets to their proper time and space, the barriers were supposed to have sealed themselves up again. Then again, this technically was the Doctor they were dealing with. If anyone could find a way, he would! She just hoped it wasn't the start of another crisis.

Mickey and Ianto were on hand, back at the Hub, to help bring the Doctor in. Martha had them move him from the hospital gurney into a proper bed and she set about connecting him to the monitors. Once he knew Martha didn't require his assistance anymore, Ianto went back to his workstation. He knew of the Doctor's reputation and had a great deal of respect for him and what he'd done to protect Earth, but he didn't know him like the other three did. He was happy to sort things out while they watched over their friend.

"Will he be okay?" Mickey asked. "It's just that if he's seriously ill, this one can't regenerate, can he?"

"He's stable, for now." Martha said. "If his condition deteriorates, I'll get straight on to the TARDIS and see if the real Doctor... I mean the other Doctor, can do something beyond the technology we have here."

"I just..." Mickey faltered. "I mean, why is he here? Is there something wrong back in Pete's World? The Tylers were like my family and I'm just afraid for Jackie and Rose... Tony's just a kid."

"There was a minor fluctuation in rift activity in Cardiff Bay around the time the Evanses found Mr Smith," Ianto said. "but it was small enough that it didn't trigger an alert. To be on the safe side, I think it we should check out the other areas that had fluctuations, but no alerts. I have them listed here." he handed out a list to each of the team.

Jack glanced over Ianto's checklist. "Good idea. Mickey, Ianto we'll hit the areas on this list. Martha, you look after our patient. Keep a channel open and let us know as soon as he wakes and can tell us what happened." Martha nodded as the men left and then returned to monitoring her patient.

Chapter 3.

The Sum of His Parts Chapter 1.

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 17:52:31 GMT

Title: The Sum of His Parts by gruaig_rua
Rating: PG-13
Series: Doctor Who/Torchwood

Author’s note: I started writing this a long time ago and by the end of next week, it will be obsolete so I decided to throw caution to the wind and put it out there, come what may. Comments are more than welcome.
X-posted to bluesuit_fic, lifeonmartha, and tennant_love (apologies for clogging up your flist!). Further chapters announced via who_daily . Thanks for reading.

***

Chapter One

Simon Evans’ boat cruised into Cardiff Bay. He and his wife Natalie loved sailing when the summer days were long and they could watch the sunset over a glass of wine.

Retirement had its perks! He negotiated his way through to the Inner Harbour on the way to return the boat to its berth in Queen Alexandra Dock when the boat began to list, which was uncharacteristic for those waters. Natalie looked over the side to see what was causing the boat to rock. Everything looked normal enough until there was a flash underwater. There was an upward rush, like there had been an explosion and the boat rocked as it was hit by the surge.

“Nat?” Simon yelled as he tried to keep the boat on an even keel and away from the dock wall.

“Still here.” She called back. “Was that a mine?”

“I dunno. I better call it in with the Coastguard.” Simon replied, still a little thrown by the experience. A lifelong sailor, he made sure Nat and himself always wore their lifejackets while on board irrespective of how calm the waters were and tonight he was glad of the rule.

Natalie continued her nervous watch in case it were to happen again. Light from the surrounding quay and their boat illuminated the water to a degree but she was anxious that further mines might have been dislodged and floated to the surface. On closer inspection, the nearby floating mass wasn’t an unexploded mine.

“Jesus, Simon, there’s a body in the water!” Natalie gasped. Simon wasted no time getting their lifebuoy and swimming to the floater. They managed to drag the man on deck. Judging from his complexion and the lack of bloating, he hadn’t been in the water for long, but they couldn’t get a pulse and he wasn’t breathing. Natalie started CPR while Simon raised a mayday informing the authorities that an ambulance would be needed. After guiding the boat to safety, Simon took over chest compressions from Natalie as they both tried to revive the man they’d found.

PC Andy Davidson surveyed the scene around him. A wide cordon, well back from the water’s edge had been set up to keep the onlookers out of the way. Lights from the emergency services vehicles flashed everywhere and in the middle of it all, paramedics were working on reviving a body pulled from the water. CPR had undoubtedly saved the man’s life. Lucky bastard had been rescued by someone who actually knew what to do. Andy watched on as the defibrillator kick-started the victim’s heart. “So he’d only been mostly dead, then?” he muttered to nobody in particular.

Having stabilised him and placed an oxygen mask over his face to help him breathe, the patient was quickly prepared for transport to hospital. Caucasian male, mid thirties, looked like a 6 footer, skinny... Nothing remarkable about him, but the trainers didn’t exactly match the suit. Hopefully he’d have ID on him to contact family or friends. Andy volunteered to go to the hospital to find out what had happened. Did he jump? Was he pushed? Attacked? Just some idiot drunk out for a swim? Hopefully, he’d regain consciousness and be able to answer some questions.

It didn’t take long for the ambulance to make it to St David’s Hospital. Andy followed on as a medical team took over from the paramedics and lead him through A&E. The team swarmed around their patient checking for cranial and internal injuries and checking him for responses. One of the doctors found a sodden wallet. “We have an ID card. Andrew Smith, DOB 1 April 1975. Works for some company called Torchwood.” She handed it off to PC Andy without a second thought. Andy, on the other hand was intrigued. There he was running into yet another Torchwood operative… maybe it was a sign! He decided the most discrete way to deal with this was to ring his favourite Torchwood operative, Gwen Cooper.

“Hello?” Gwen said, drowsily holding the phone to her ear as she repositioned her pillow.

“Gwen, it’s Andy Davidson.” Andy replied brightly. “I’m in St David’s Hospital and I’ve got someone here that you might know.”

“What happened?” Gwen sat up, disturbing her husband Rhys in the bed beside her.

“I thought you switched that damn thing off!” Rhys muttered before turning over to face away from her.

“Shhh!” She admonished him. “Andy, who’s in hospital?”

“Andrew Smith?” Andy said. “Ring any bells?”

“Can’t say it does.”

“He has a Torchwood ID on him. Was brought in unconscious from Cardiff Bay.” Andy fanned himself with the small plastic card.

“We don’t have ID cards.” Gwen fingered her long, dark hair from her face. “Are you sure it says Torchwood?”

“Bloody Torchwood.” Rhys grumbled, half asleep.

“Andy, I need you to take a picture of the ID and text it to me.”

“Are you not going to come down and see for yourself?” Andy failed miserably at hiding his disappointment.

“Andy, I’m currently in Sharm El Sheik, Egypt on my holidays and I don’t have easy access to a teleporter.”

Andy wasn’t sure whether she was being serious or not. He knew enough about Torchwood to know a personal teleporter for every team member was a distinct possibility! “Oh sorry… Sure. I’ll text it on to you. Sorry to disturb you… Enjoy the rest of your holiday.”

Gwen hung up and flopped back onto the soft pillow.

“So how’s PC Plod these days?”

“Oh Rhys, don’t start!” Gwen sighed, exasperated at Rhys’ behaviour towards someone who wasn’t even an ex and was never close enough to ever be an ex!

Rhys turned to face her as she waited for Andy’s message to arrive. “Please don’t tell me you’re going spend the rest of our holiday working?”

“I’m not!” she insisted. “Why do you think we ended up so far away? So I couldn’t be called back at a moment’s notice.” Gwen turned in to face her husband. “This is my holiday too, you know and I want to spend the rest of it working on my tan and sightseeing, not worrying about alien invasions.”

“So aliens didn’t build the Pyramids, then?”

“No sweetheart.” Gwen sighed, rolling her eyes. “That’s Stargate off the telly. It’s makey uppy stuff, not a documentary.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “Are you taking the piss?”

“A little.” She giggled and kissed him. Gwen felt one of Rhys’ hands trace up her spine, the other softly stroked her leg. In turn, she ran her fingers through his hair, all the while escalating the passion of their kiss. Before they could get any more amorous, Gwen’s phone beeped with Andy’s message. “Give me a moment, okay?” her lips were still pressed against Rhys’. “I’ll be right back.”

“You better, missus!”

Gwen sat up with her phone and opened the photo. “Oh my God!”

“What’s wrong, love?” Rhys was concerned with Gwen’s shocked expression. “Do you know him?”

“This is.. it's way beyond what I thought. I have to tell Jack.” She braced herself for Rhys to go off on one about bloody Torchwood again but he just nodded, still showing the same concern as before. He remembered only too well the aftermath of Owen and Toshiko’s deaths, holding a sobbing Gwen as she grieved for her friends. If another team member was hurt and she was the only one who knew, it would be churlish to start complaining.

Gwen rang Jack Harkness in Cardiff and recounted the story PC Andy had told her and about the picture. “It’s the Doctor with a Torchwood ID card.”

“What?"

Chapter 2

Review: Hamlet at the Novello Theatre, London 18 December 2008.

Wed, 24 Dec 2008 02:06:13 GMT

When it was announced that David Tennant had to exeunt stage left because of his back problems, I was part Noooooo!!1!eleventy!! and part What the hell! It's London, the week before Christmas and I'm a Drama Tart! Fun will be had... And besides, it's all paid for anyway. So, I found myself at the actors' talkback night with Edward Bennett in the title role.

The Novello itself is one of those lovely old London theatres with gorgeous ceilings and squeaky seats. Cream fascias, gold leaf and red velvet in abundance. I was in the Dress circle and there were a few empty seats dotted around. If people returned tickets simply because Tennant wasn't playing, then more fool them. If the seats were empty because the bottom dropped out of the tout market (see getmein.com and ebay!), then Haaa haaa haa!! and I wave my bum in your general direction, you opportunist scumbags!.

Annyhooo... Back to the theatre (the dahling is implied!)

Tennant's absence shifted the "star power" focus onto Patrick Stewart and he was outstanding, as is Oliver Ford Davies. Penny Downie seemed strangely stagey in the first half. I don't know why, because she wasn't like that in the Courtyard. Maybe it's the more traditional and smaller stage area in the Novello which works better as a performance space because it seems more claustrophobic and you see the characters' reflections more clearly.

This time around, the Players' scene in the first act dragged ,probably because, aside from showing the Murder of Gonzaga, it's not that central to the action. I wanted to see the intrigue of the plot unfold, not the supporting cast telling stories... sorry. The second act cracks along at a blistering pace and again, as in Stratford, the Chamber scene is the highlight.

I found Ed Bennett very impressive as Hamlet, but thought he lacked that quicksilver characterisation that Tennant has. I'm pleased that his performance is not an exact replica either. There are enough differences to stop it being a carbon copy of Tennant's. While I'm happy for him to be playing Hamlet, I missed Bennett as Laertes. His understudy, Tom Davey, was nowhere near as impressive in the part.

The talkback was very entertaining. I got the first question in to Ed Bennett and I think it was Robert Curtis with him. Patrick Stewart, Oliver Ford Davies and Penny Downie all joined over the course of the Q&A. This Drama Tart was very happy to hear actors blethering on about acting and I get a great giggle out of the fact that they do call M****th The Scottish Play!

Don't let David Tennant's absence deter you from going to see a fantastic night of theatre with some fine performances. As the Bard himself said - "The play's the thing!"

Related Links:
Stratford reviews of Hamlet and Love's Labour's Lost
Rant about theatre ettiquette (or lack thereof!)

Ham(koff)let at the Novello(parp) 18 December 2008

Fri, 19 Dec 2008 00:28:15 GMT

"It was like a TB ward tonight!" - Patrick Stewart, cast talkback.

Bloody hell, people!! Where the hell were you raised that it's considered acceptable to cough and splutter your way through a play? The ignorance of some people!?! Don't they have Lockets or Strepsils where you're from? And thanks sooo very much to the person who decided to blow their nose right in the middle of Hamlet's beautiful, poignant death scene. It wasn't just one of those snotty sounds either. This sounded like a bum note on a trumpet. "Oh I am *parp* Horatio." The Novello should sell Fisherman's Friends instead of Haagen Daas at the interval.

Get some lozenges and some manners you inconsiderate ignoramuses!!

(Rant over. Proper review to follow. Apols for the formatting faux pas. I'm typing this on internet telly in my hotel room.)

"The play's the thing!" - A wonderful weekend in Stratford-Upon-Avon

Sun, 16 Nov 2008 23:52:24 GMT

AKA the David Tennant Stalkathon!

What follows is sort of a transcription from my Old Skool Journal (aka a notebook and pen!) written during intervals and in the early hours of the morning having seen Love's Labour's Lost and Hamlet this weekend. I hope it's coherent enough to follow (the typing is certainly more legible than my handwriting!).

"To be, or not to be.... Weeeellllll....." - My sister inna David Tennant Stylee!

Love's Labour's Lost 14 November 2008

Who knew Shakespeare could be so much fun? It never was in school! The thing I love about these new productions is the ease in which talented professionals convey the language. It doesn't sound like grand speechifying, it sounds like people having conversations which makes watching it an easy and enjoyable experience.

Maybe it was the different colour of his costume, but you couldn't help but be drawn to David Tennant. He owns the stage, sauntering around and talking to the audience like we're a part of Navarre's court. He plays brilliantly off the audience's laughter, timing perfectly just how long to let a pause, a grin, a knowing look go on. Take for example when he throws his straw hat at the tree. It landed on the branch and slid slowly down a curve until it came to a stop. The audience applauded his aim and he stood there with an "I'm damn good!" smile on his face. It looks like his natural environment there. As good as he is at playing the Doctor, I don't think it nearly conveys how talented an actor he really is.

The standing set is a gnarled tree with the most beautiful cut glass leaves hanging around it. It looked like a willow or Japanese larch.   It was well used by the cast, but occasionally, the movement caused the leaves to catch the light and distract... a minor quibble!! The traditional costumes were absolutely magnificent and the thrust stage gives the most amazing feeling of intimacy with actors passing within about 5 feet of me.

Several of Shakespeare's regular plots appear. Lots of people falling in love (conveniently no 2 people fancy the same person!), misdirected communications, people in disguise, making grand declarations of love to the wrong person because they're disguised etc... it all adds up to an Elizabethan Carry On film.

I loved the musical interludes, including the scenery chewing, scene stealing, gloriously comical, relentlessly Spanish, Don Armado!  When Dumaine sings his love song for Katherine, the hidden chorus of Navarre, Berowne and Longaville join in... Taketh That, anyone? They even have the cute, short one on the end in Dumaine! The ensemble singing at the end softened the sombre conclusion of what had been a fairly riotous comedy. Aside from Tennant, the other standout for me was Mark Hadfield as a drier than the Sahara Boyet. I'm sorry I left it to so late in the run to go because this would have been well worth a repeat viewing!

Wonder if there's a sequel?!?

Courtyard Theatre Tour 15 November 2008

I am a complete drama tart. Not only do I love performing, I love watching talented people perform (They don't have to be professionals either!) and I love to see the inner workings of theatres. It's nice to see that no matter what the level you perform at, backstage areas are pretty much universal! Running order on an A4 page in Arial font, props left in particular places to be snatched at speed by the actor, bottles of water within reach, but out of harm's way etc... I was particularly taken with the M&S Biscuit Bites tub that was now a recepticle for spare lantern bulbs!

Oh, and while we were backstage, DT passed *this* close to me! Head down, baseball cap, glasses, minder... He was gone through to the dressing rooms before we really registered who it was! This was around 11am. Probably getting ready for curtain up at one.

Not only were there props backstage, but around the back of the stalls near where the actors exit and enter through the audience. One in particular caught my attention!

Oh yes! That chair from Hamlet!!

The Courtyard is basically a prefab, with 5 years' planning permission that cost 6 million to build. The main RSC theatre being rebuilt will be based on the Courtyard's design. Our guide, who's name escapes me - apologies! - said that once the new theatre opens, the Courtyard will be returned to it's original 200 seater form. I offered to give it a good home!  It's a wonderful theatre and I'd love to have a crack at that performance space! You're never more than 15 metres from the stage and despite seating 1000, it feels surprisingly intimate. The theatre tour was excellent! Very informative and a lot of fun. Well worth the early start. (*This* close!!!)

After the tour I faffed around and shopped for a bit. I then came to the stunning realisation that it would be a good idea to go to the backstage barriers for the matinee as I had no intention of leaving that night's performance of Hamlet early to bag a spot. There was already a full row just before 3pm.  I consider myself to be above average height, so I got behind some short people so I'd have the opportunity to hand my programme over their heads for DT to do the needful. There was some fun bantering with the ever growing crowd as we waited for LLL to end and we knew things were looking good when his minder appeared at the door waving a black marker at us! When he came out, there was a flurry of activity, with people pressing in from behind and out of nowhere, a young girl ended up beside me willing David to see her. After I got my Hamlet programme signed, I took hers and held it up for him saying that it wasn't for me, but a little girl who couldn't reach over. Bless him, he signed it and she was thrilled... My good deed for the day!

The pictorial proof...

(Smug Gruaigrua is smug!) I spent the rest of the afternoon with a permagrin plastered on my face!

Hamlet 15 November 2008

The last version of Hamlet I saw was in the Globe Theatre in September, performed by the Factory. It was an experimental version that, while entertaining, came across as Look how clever we are! We all know all the lines! It was completely lacking in pathos, drama and suspense. Thankfully, the same cannot be said about the RSC's version.

When I head that DT had been cast as Hamlet, I thought he was a little old for a part that reads like a moody teenager. Turns out that Hamlet is 30, making it a perfect role for Tennant's age! Looking over my interval notes, they're very scrappy.  I had about 100 thoughts racing through my head and I was trying to get them all down and get some fresh air, away from the heat in the theatre. Tennant's Hamlet came across as spoiled, a pampered fop and possibly a disappointment to his soldier father. I don't know if it was deliberate, but the suit he wore in the first scenes just looked a little too big for him, like he wasn't used to wearing "grown up" clothes. During the melancholic, understated delivery of "To be or not to be" I wondered was Hamlet stoned, or tired and insomniac? He was certainly troubled.  He wore a sixpack teeshirt to show he was The Man, but was barefoot like a child. The stillness during the earlier soliloquies was quite unexpected and I was really impressed that they didn't go down the big speechy route with them (I know it's not a word, but you know what I mean!). What I liked was the lack of bombast that you'd expect with one of Shakespeare's most memorable characters. Was his madness real or feigned? Was he a manic depressive, or master manipulator?

I loved Mariah Gale's Ophelia. I know some of the critics haven't been impressed, but from her early scenes, play acting with Laertes before his return to France, I could see she was a "free spirit" whose moments of madness probably went unnoticed, or were ignored because she had no maternal influence and the men in her life seemed more interested in the political status at court. Her descent into madness, triggered by Hamlet's cruel rejection and then the death of Polonius was powerfully performed and uncomfortable to watch.

I'm in two minds about the sparse set. The mirrored backdrop looked great, but at times, actors were in a bare performance area. I'm not looking for Gothic towers, but a bit more detail would have been nice. Love's Labour's Lost had that beautiful tree.  Hamlet only had the backdrop.

( I just had to get a shot of the reflected audience before the lights went down!)

I know the running order of the play well enough, but the mid-scene cliffhanger interval was a great little twist for anyone not familiar with it. The second half seemed to rattle along at brakeneck speed. The chamber scene with Tennant and a sublime Penny Downie was a tour de force from both. I hope they release a DVD because I could have watched that all day. As great as the soliloquies were, when Tennant is interracting with other characters, he's on fire!

Gertrude is definitely more manipulated than manipulator.  She reacts to Claudius massaging her shoulders as if he's going to kill her too. Did she marry for love, or to protect herself and Hamlet from Claudius? In the end, she knowingly drinks the poisoned wine. Patrick Stewart's Claudius was in turn cunning and sympathetic, unusual for the play's "baddie". And he has the most gorgeous speaking voice!

There was unexpected humour throughout - I enjoyed Rosencrantz and Guildenstern immensely and the obsequious Osric was smarm personified!  Of course, Hamlet playing nuts had it's moments too. I liked that Hamlet and Laertes doomed duel started off as a fencing competition between two gentlemen, turns into a proper swordfight and then descends into an all out brawl between the 2 men. The ending was quiet and poignant, strewn with bodies, of course and beautifully played between Tennant and Peter De Jersey's Horatio. The ovation was well deserved!

I'm already looking into dates for Julius Caesar and As You Like It next year because this trip was as much about going to Stratford and the RSC to see a production as it was to see David Tennant!

Left Handers of the World Rejoice!

Wed, 13 Aug 2008 18:13:49 GMT

Happy International Lefthanders day!  It's the same as every other day, only we get told that Raphael Nadal, Barack Obama and John McCain are "one of us" too! As is Ned Flanders, so I'm bringing the Neddie Love (diddly ove!) too.

I've always liked the fact that I'm left handed. It's not like I decided when I was a toddler, grabbing at Chubby Stumps to decorate the wall that I'm going to be different to my older 2 siblings and pick stuff up with my other hand. It's just something that happens (I was going to put in something about lefthandedness being similar to being gay, but without the persecution, imprisonment, discrimination etc., but that's just a bit glib, don'cha think!).

I think I'm amongst the first wave of Irish children that were actually allowed to write with their left hand in school. There were stories of children having their left hand tied down to force them to use the right hand, or worse, being beaten until they used the right hand for writing. Thankfully, I wasn't subject to any of that abuse, but an uncle of my Dad's was a school teacher and he was very uneasy about me being left handed. Growing up, I was very left handed and hardly used the right at all, other than for carrying! I threw a major strop with my PE teacher in secondary school when I buggered up a game of hockey by constantly hitting the ball with the bumpy side, therefore causing a free every time. When I was berated for my mistakes, I blew a gasket, calling the game discriminatory. I threw the stick at her feet, calling it a stupid bloody game and stormed off the pitch telling her I'd come back when they got a left handed stick for me. Now, you have to remember, this was mid-80's Ireland in a Catholic Girl's school run by nuns! I was lucky I wasn't burned at the stake (or at least suspended for my outburst.). Funnily enough, I never played hockey again and I was never forced to by my PE teacher either!

I write, throw etc with my left hand, but I'll pick up a kettle or teapot with my right. I think it's due to my family freaking when I did it with the left! Because we all know, when people pick up receptacles of scalding water with their left hand, they are overcome with an urge to splash said scalding water all over their nearest and dearest! (sarcastic tone implied!).

Changing gears with my left hand makes driving very easy for me. I can't imagine how the righties do it without it being confusing, but I really have to concentrate when I'm being given directions to turn left or right. Visually, I know exactly where I'm going, but ask me to verbally articulate and I'm all over the shop! I passed my driving test recently and at one point during the test I was asked to turn right. I indicated right and then convinced myself that I was wrong and changed the indicator to left. The tester just said I was right the first time and to stop overthinking! He was quite nice, as driving testers go!

I do admit to being a tad uncoordinated, though! I'm involved in a few musical groups at home and I hate learning dance routines because I'm not that good at them. It's the same as the indicator problem. Too busy overthinking my left from my right!

The Irish language has a wonderful word for left-handers. It's ciotóg (pron kith-OGUE). The traditional meaning is akin to Sinister in the latin, but I've never heard it used other than to describe someone as a leftie!

So, happy day to all the lefties, southpaws, sinistrals, gauches and ciotogs of the world!

Hamlet... Here be spoilers!

Sat, 26 Jul 2008 22:23:54 GMT

Everyone dies, okay!

I haven't seen it yet and I won't get to see it until November, but the fan reviews are starting to filter through with details about costuming, setting etc and being the Drama Tart that I am, I love reading that side of it as well as knowing that DT is fantastic in it... Well (biased cos he is a brilliant actor) duh!

For those of you redirected from the anon_meme, here's what you want to know, courtesy of the good denizens of the Doctor Who Forum and David-Tennant.com. He spends the production barefoot, plays Three Blind Mice on the recorder, wears a suit, jeans (with underwear waisband on show), tux, an anorak and bobble hat and ends up tied to a chair and gagged at one point.

And to combat all the shallowness, here he is sword fighting, courtesy of The Daily Telegraph.

In jeans! (I think he looks younger without the sideburns.)

I am insanely excited to see the sword fighting! The last production of Hamlet I saw had them basically use their arms as swords, slapping the backs of their hands off each other... It was stylised, arty shite! Don't get me wrong, I like stylised. I just like my sword fighting more!

Feel free to comment, anon or otherwise.

Fic: The One Adventure... (1/1)

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 12:25:33 GMT

Title: The One Adventure...
Author: Gruaig_rua
Characters: A Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler.

Rating: Gen
Summary: Stranded in Bad Wolf Bay... What next?
Disclaimer: Doctor Who does not belong to me.

The One Adventure...

He’s stuck. He’s a fixed point in time and space. He has no sonic screwdriver and no psychic paper. He is a man without an identity and no way of faking one, stranded on a beach in Norway. Way to go me… Him… Us… And he’s cold! He never felt the cold before. The overcoat would have been useful, right about now. Jackie takes control by phoning Pete and telling him to send the zeppelin. She explains that the Doctor’s with them, but he has no papers and she doesn’t want to smuggle him into the country, so he’ll have to “do a Rose” and come up with some fake ID for him. Jackie passes the phone over and the Doctor explains what happened. Pete asks him what he wants to be named. He thinks for a moment, looking down at his non-fightin’ hand. He’s not John Smith. Other him can be John Smith. He’ll be Andy… Andy Smith. Rose looks at him with a look of mild surprise. He just waves back with the non-fightin’ hand and she laughs. He’s missed that laugh.

Fake Ids will take a couple of days, so Jackie, phone armed with internet access and a brace of platinum credit cards, picoboo’s for transport to a nearby hotel. Picoboo being the Alt-Earth’s Google, apparently. The Doctor would have to stop thinking of this place as Alt-anything. It wasn’t an alternate. It was now his home. It’s okay. He could do this. It’s not like he’s never been stranded on Earth without access to time travel before! He worked with UNIT in the 70’s… or was it the 80’s? Anyway… Here he was in 2013 and staying. Forever… Not forever forever, though. He has about 60, 65 years tops. And he’s going to spend 20 of those asleep. 45 years left. Only 45 years. So much to do. So little time... Maybe he should have named himself Google. Google Raxicoricofalapatorius Smith. The day they arrive forms part of his birthdate on his fake papers. Seems apt. The Doctor doesn't like the idea of being 35 again. He was an awkward child at 35.

The first few months are difficult. He thinks it’s going to be brilliant and there are days when he’s so completely optimistic and happy, yet he goes to sleep feeling lost and alone and hating the waste of 8 hours, despite the loving arms around him. And he loves her. He absolutely loves Rose Tyler. His one heart skips a beat every so often at the thought of her. And he hates that most other thoughts are about how he got the short end of the stick, stuck without a TARDIS in a Universe he hasn’t had contact with. Stuck, surrounded by Tylers, working at Torchwood with them, living in their house, eating their food… Sometimes he thinks he’s being punished, which is unfair, considering he had nothing bar the clothes he was wearing and they’ve patiently given him shelter and stability. He’s doing domestic… The last one would have regenerated on the spot at the prospect! Working at Torchwood is more fun than he anticipated. All the “good stuff” comes to him and he tells the boffins what it is and how to use it. When he thinks something is too dangerous, under the guise of trying to figure it out, he puts it beyond use. It’s for their own safety. After a few months, he has access to enough tech to put together a very basic sonic screwdriver. It only has about 50 settings, but he’ll make do. The handy part is the built in perception filter which gets him into all the corners of Torchwood that he’s not supposed to know about!

He fidgets a lot. His Time Lord brain races along at 500mph, but his human body barely sprints. He needs an outlet outside of work and the Tylers. Pete introduces him to a lovely woman called Emily Barrett who needs someone to design and build a set for the local musical society’s production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat (seems Andrew Lloyd Webber’s influence knows no bounds!). For a brief time, he feels like the Doctor again. Running around, making magic out of limited resources. He sketches and designs, calculates the wood he’ll need and the maximum amount of space allowed on the stage. Emily asks him to present the small-scale model he’s designed to the assembled cast and chorus. There are gasps and loud applause. He smiles, enjoying the adulation. The work is so impressive, he fields requests from other groups in the area. A professional director who knows Pete leaves his card, offering him work on the West End. The following year, as well as building the set for that group and three other drama societies, he was drafted into the chorus line of My Fair Lady. He readily admits he's fairly bad, keeping to the back as much as possible. Rose remarked it had been a long time since he’d seemed so happy. He tells her he loves the fun everyone has during rehearsals and innate silliness of perfectly normal people bursting into song for no apparent reason. He proceeds to regale her about the time he visited the planet Sonora where harmonics in the atmosphere made everyone sound like they were singing and that she’d love it there, or she would have if… And then he’s quiet for a while.

He thought his relationship with Rose would be the easy part. It always had been. Despite Pete Tyler apparently having more money than God, there was no such thing as a free ride in the Tyler household and taking a year off for them both to go zeppelining around the world wasn’t acceptable. Part of his time in this world had been spent budgeting and waiting for wages at the end of the fortnight. Dull and domestic. He knew, with his intelligence, he was worth more than the entire R&D department put together. Money had never been an issue before, but if money defined how valued you were on this damn planet, then he was going to make sure Torchwood knew exactly how great a resource he was! He told Pete to either pay him what he was truly worth, or he’d quit. To the Doctor’s surprise, Pete more or less threatened to “out” him to the authorities. An anger he hadn’t felt for a long time surfaced. So this is what it boiled down to? The Doctor was property of Torchwood, or else? He countered that he’d pass any medical exam with flying colours. He was, to all intents and purposes, human with a dodgy knee, greying hair and rising cholesterol and if Pete was going to report him for being from another universe, was he prepared to do the same to Rose? Deep down, he despised himself for using her as a bargaining chip, but self-preservation, now that he only had one life, had to be his ultimate goal. He walked out of Torchwood and it took every bit of self-restraint not to hop on the first Tube to Chiswick and look up Donna Noble, instead he went back to the Tylers and packed a bag, knowing he wouldn’t be welcome there any longer. He can’t live like that anymore. Rooted to one spot. Can’t live in the same house with Pete Tyler after his threat, either. Rose loses her temper with him, not quite believing that her dad would say something like that. And then it all came out. He accuses her of treating him like a consolation prize. She retorts that she knows he’s looking in Torchwood for something like Jack’s teleporter so he can run away. He doesn’t deny it. Unsurprisingly, they split up.

He takes the small amount he’s saved and heads off to see what this Planet Earth is really like. Within a month, he’s emailed her from Egypt with an apology and a picture of himself standing on the viewing platform at the Sphinx’s nose. Three weeks later, she meets him in Shanghai and they spend a month together in China, Vietnam and Thailand where he starts sketching and writing in a journal. Rose encourages him to write of his past adventures as well as their own. Before she returns to the UK, he agrees to be home by her birthday. They celebrate in their new house, 10 miles away from the Tyler mansion, the mortgage leveraged with Rose’s savings. Only another 25 years and it will be theirs! He makes his peace with Pete, but only works with Torchwood as a part time consultant, the rest of the time spent still wasting 8 hours a night sleeping and working on a range of children’s books about a man who travels through time and space in a police box that’s bigger on the inside. It gives him focus and by keeping a record of his past (passing it off as fiction), it makes his future more settled. He still keeps that wanderlust, though and takes off at the drop of a hat. Sometimes she joins him, sometimes she doesn’t. She knows he’ll always come home. They make regular trips to Bad Wolf Bay partly "just in case", but mostly because he really likes it there.

By the time the 5th book is published, he’d give anything to waste 8 straight hours asleep. Babies keep to their own schedule though, selfishly demanding to be fed and watered at stupid times like 1 and 5 am. Corinne Marian Tyler Smith, inexplicably known as Ed to her dad, arrived on 8 July, 2018. JJ (Julia Jacqueline) followed less than 2 years later. They grow up happy and loved, displaying no obvious Time Lord characteristics. Ed has a fascination with shiny things. The glitter on her shoes, the dangly earrings her nan wears and the stars in the night sky. They set up a telescope and as she gets older, he names the stars for her. When she grows up she wants to be a ballerina or a fireman. Her mum sees no reason why she can’t be both! JJ likes shoes. Her own shoes, her big sister's, her mum’s, her dad’s and regularly attempts to improve them by colouring them in and putting stickers on them. Ed happily wears JJ’s creations, particularly the ones with glitter on them. Her dad is less than impressed with the flowers stuck on his battered red trainers. They wore out a long time ago, but no power in the universe will ever make him part with them. He jokes he wants to be buried, wearing only those trainers, at Bad Wolf Bay… but not for at least another 45 years! His daughters love listening to the stories that end up in their dad’s books and wish their bedrooms were bigger on the inside so they could have a swimming pool and room for lots of shoes. As they grow up, JJ doesn’t become this universe’s Manolo Blahnik. She’s too busy working on her own theories of theoretical physics. Basically she wants to disprove most of it but she’ll do it in fabulous shoes! Ed goes into “the family business” at Torchwood as an intern. She reckons she has a better chance of space travel there than somewhere like NASA, and the dress code is less restrictive. They don’t know if the quirky dressing and love of jewellery comes from their mum or their dad!

The Doctor tells Rose about his other children, sketching them from memory. She frames the drawings, placing them with the rest of the family portraits. The day before JJ’s 18th birthday, he tells Rose his real name. It’s long and pretty unpronounceable, but she cherishes the gesture, joking that it probably means they’re married now, or something. It’s the closest they come to formalising their relationship.

It turns out that 60-65 years was a generous estimate. His Time Lord brain still functioned like a sprightly 300 year old’s, but his human body was susceptible to the vagaries of age and disease. There are some things modern medicine just hasn’t got around to fixing and Torchwood doesn’t have a doohickey that will help, despite Ed and Rose’s searches. For the first time in years, he misses his other heart and is only slightly annoyed that Jackie Tyler will outlive him! Still 940 wasn’t a bad age, all things considered.

Andy Smith died peacefully, surrounded by his loving family. His obituary gave his age as 71. He was cremated and the ashes scattered over Bad Wolf Bay, 50 miles out of Bergen, Norway, having fulfilled the one adventure he thought he’d never have.

~Fin~

(Comments welcome and appreciated.)

Fic: Choices (For the Martha Jones Footsteps Project)

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 00:15:59 GMT

Choices

Life is all about choices. Billions of people making hundreds of choices every day of their lives. Some are run of the mill; beef or salmon, tea or coffee, left or right, red top or black shirt. Others are more important and can affect the outcome of not only your life, but other people’s lives as well.

Martha Jones closed her eyes as the lukewarm water cascaded over her head and down her body. Any warmer and she felt it would scald her already overly warm skin. Any colder and it wouldn’t remove the dirt and sweat that had built up over the course of the day on board the Pentallian.

It felt like she’d spent the entire day running, not just 40 odd minutes. Running for her life, running to save others… Running to save the Doctor. The look on his face would haunt her forever. His normally expressive, brown eyes clamped tightly shut. Death and destruction hidden behind them. He kept reaching out to her, needing to know she was there, needing to hear her voice. She, in turn needed to know how to help him and save him. It wasn’t the first time she’d held his life in her hands. Within an hour of meeting, he’d trusted Martha and her medical skills to revive him after Florence the Plasmavore had drained him of enough blood to cause him to go into shock. He’d trusted her again today and she hadn’t let him down, but he’d really scared her. The freezing in the stasis chamber failed. Only for venting the stolen fuel, he’d have been possessed like Korwin and that’s something Martha really didn’t want to dwell on.

Like the last time she saved his life, he gave her something special. That time it had been “just one trip”. This time, he’d rewarded her with her own key to the TARDIS. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Is this where it stops being a series of adventures and becomes a permanent thing? Her journey so far had been amazing… how could it not have been? The things she’d seen and done, the people she’d met? William Bloody Shakespeare had hit on her!

As the water cooled her, Martha wondered if it was all worth the fear, the panic, the threats of imminent death? She ran her fingers through her hair, excess water running down her back and smiled. Yes. She knew she had the opportunity to learn from great medical minds, both past and future, to see advancements where the likes of AIDS, cancer and MS will be treated like a case of the flu. The knowledge the Doctor would impart to her about the mundane and the fantastic. The chance to live like so few humans had ever had the chance to…

If she’s honest, she knows it’s not forever. And did she want it to be forever? Is this how Martha saw her life? She thought for a moment and the answer to that question was no. As huge, epic and romantic a notion it was, Realist Logical Martha reared her annoyingly pragmatic head and stated the bleedin’ obvious. It’s all fine and dandy running away from Daleks at 24, but what about 34? 44? 74? She has ambitions both career and home wise and she’s sure neither of those would include the Doctor, no matter how much she wished it. Martha’s in love. She can’t help it, she just is. It’s inconvenient and sometimes it even hurts, but for the moment she can tolerate being a bit lovesick, if it means she gets to do amazing things like travel in time and space.

One thing Martha Jones does know, is that when it does come time to leave, it will be on her terms. Her choice.

I haz an Icon!

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 01:32:09 GMT

See my icon!

If it tickles your juvenile fancy as it does mine (cos I made it!), feel free to appropriate it for your own personal enjoyment!
(X-Posted a bit!)

Their love is canontrufax nao!

Fic: Selfish.

Thu, 29 May 2008 00:14:07 GMT

Title: Selfish
Author: Gruaig Rua
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Donna Noble.

Rating: NC-17 for sexual situations.
Summary: They're not in love... Nor is it a silly phase they're going through.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who does not belong to me.
Author’s notes: This is the first time I've ever written anything like this because I've never felt I was any good at it... And part of me can't honestly believe I'm posting this! Please feel free to tell me if I've done it all wrong. (Hides behind hands).

***

"Selfish"

“Is it selfish?” Donna Noble’s head nestled into the Doctor’s shoulder as his arm snaked across her back to her waist, keeping them close.

“Is what selfish?” he replied absent mindedly, aware that her warm hand was on his chest.

“This.” Donna said quietly as they lay naked together after some vigorous and very satisfying sex. “Is it selfish that we’re having sex, but I’m not in love with you?”

“Are you afraid you’re taking advantage of me?” There was a light tone to his question and even though she wasn’t looking at him, she had an idea that he was smiling.

“A bit?”

“Afraid that I’m unable to resist your womanly wiles as you wantonly force yourself on me?” The Doctor’s arm pulled her in a little bit closer to him as she chuckled, embarrassed that she’d even raised the question. “Would it make you feel better if I said I’m not in love with you either?”

“So we’re both selfishly using each other for sex.” she repositioned herself, snuggling in beside him, entwining her fingers with his.

“We’re both indulging in carnal knowledge of the flesh and I have absolutely no intention of making an honest woman of you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Donna smiled as his thumb stroked the palm of her hand. “I reckon we’ve just been extremely honest with each other about this.”

“Are you okay with that?” the Doctor asked. “I mean, I know what you just said, but I also know how humans need emotional connection during sex.”

“Well, lust is an emotion.” Donna offered. She rolled completely on to her side, propping herself up on her elbow so she could look at him. “I didn’t ask you to test you. I’m not trying to trap you, or force you into saying something that’s not true because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

His arm strayed up to her shoulder and he stroked it gently to reassure her. “Do you know, I’ve been travelling for a long time with many different companions – a lot of them women – and just as I think I’m starting to figure you all out, I realise that I don’t have a clue, and I probably never will. I’ve had romances that have endured centuries and brief encounters that lasted less than a day. And you’d think that after a certain amount of time a pattern would emerge, but no. It’s never the same… and that’s what I love. The unpredictability of it all. The randomness of love and romance, connection and attraction, lust and sex…” He stroked an errant curl away from Donna’s face . “That look you get just after you come. It’s like the entire universe reflected in your eyes in that brief second.” The moment he’d said it, he feared he’d misjudged the mood, as Donna’s face pinked up.

“Or, it could just be that my eyes were unfocussed because I was on the verge of passing out!” she self consciously smiled, unused to such grand compliments being paid to her.

“I’ll take that as a good thing, then?”

“You should.” Donna sighed as she settled back down upon the pillow, adjusting herself so she was flat on her back, still close, but avoiding the intimacy of eye contact for the time being. “You are extremely good at what you do.”

“You’re not so bad yourself!” the Doctor shifted onto his side, keeping contact with Donna’s body. There was something about this incarnation that was so tactile and loved the physical contact of another, whether it was something as full-bodied as a hug, or just holding hands… and he’d come to realise that he didn’t care if they were dressed or not! It was the security and contentment the contact gave. That he wasn’t alone. His hand stroked across the warm skin of Donna’s stomach and lost in thought, he was tracing delicate circles around her soft flesh before he realised it. He didn’t have to be a Time Lord to notice her reactions. Her heartbeat and breathing quickened and he elicited a soft moan from her with a simple touch. He hadn’t actually intended to arouse her, but now that she was reacting so positively to him, it would be unfair to deny her. Donna’s hand snaked down his chest towards his groin. He caught it before she reached her intended target and guided it back up, placing it on her own stomach. “Keep still” he whispered before delicately kissing her neck. “This is for you.” Because they were just doing it for the sex and not because they were in love, the Doctor didn’t have to pander to her vanity and she didn’t have to worry what he thought about her less than pert figure. She was experiencing the best sex of her life, without the emotional baggage… and if he wanted to use that clever mouth of his for something other than babble, then who was she to stop him!

The lightness of his touch tantalised her. Feather light kisses, warm breath, dextrous tongue and very, very creative fingers all combined to make her writhe and moan… and he hadn’t even moved on to her most sensitive areas, yet. The Doctor was merciless in his pursuit of her pleasure. He ran his thumb across her sensitive nipple. She gasped at the touch as it triggered sensations lower down. His hands were cool on her warm skin which turned her on even more. He straddled across her and began to kiss her stomach. He started just below her breasts and worked his way down to her bellybutton. Donna began breathing hard and groaning slightly, barely able to believe how turned on she was, simply by having her stomach kissed. She couldn’t help but run her fingers through his hair. She’d joked with him that it looked like he’d been attacked by a gel factory, but on first caress, she was surprised at how soft it was. He looked up at her with a wolfish grin and Donna thought “this is where the fun begins!”

It had taken her a while to get used to his lower body temperature, but Donna loved the sensation of his cold hands on her. The Doctor took each of her full breasts in his hands and ran both thumbs over the nipples. She threw her head back and moaned. He dipped his head down and sucked on one nipple, while caressing the other. Donna could barely contain herself, her clit throbbing in time with her increasing heartbeat. She squirmed under him as his rough tongue danced across one sensitive nubbin and then the other. Her mind was racing, the sensations were overwhelming and she could feel herself getting wet. She was going to come simply from his suckling at her breasts. The Doctor knew the effect he was having on her, and wanted to prolong Donna’s pleasure for as long as she could bear it. Leaving her sensitised nipples alone for a while, he kissed his way down her stomach. Instead of going straight to her pussy, he began to nibble and suck the top of her thighs. If this was his idea of giving her a breather, Donna thought, he was going the wrong way about it! He guided her legs apart and moved a smooth, cool hand between her legs, while returning to kiss her belly. He crooked two fingers up and stroked her clit between her engorged pussy lips. Donna was gasping, crying, laughing, invoking many deities and the Doctor knew it wouldn’t take much more to make her come … but he wanted it to be more. As his fingers gently continued stroking her, he moved back up to whisper in her ear. “Remember the Oodsong?” she managed a nod. “Do you want to hear more music?” his free hand caressed her cheek and temple and her mind opened for a brief moment to all the potential of the universe.

“Yes.” Donna panted. “I want it… I want you.” She grabbed his head and kissed him ferociously, her tongue, invading his mouth. He responded mashing his lips against her, pressing his now warm body on top of hers, his erection hard against her stomach. He needed to be inside her. She needed him inside her. Raising her knees up, she spread her legs to allow him access. The Doctor slid inside her with ease and began rhythmically thrusting in and out of her. His right hand touched her face, as the thumb of his left hand returned to her clit. He increased the friction on her clit, tipping her over the edge. Her vaginal muscles spasmed around his cock causing him to come, spurting into her. The mental connection amplified every sensation between them. The Doctor felt it was like staring into the Vortex, but with bright, vivid, swirling colours. Her cry of passion was sonorous, harmonious, soaring and uninhibited. It was joyous and it was beautiful. Donna gasped and panted, her head swimming, as the colour and noise inside it subsided. She was desperate to tell him how she felt, but even though the words wouldn’t form, something in her head told her that it was okay. The Doctor knew because he’d been in there. His pleasure reflecting hers, reflecting his, combining and exploding in full on 3D kaleidoscopic glory… God, she’d need to sleep for a month after this!

They lay together in exhausted silence, as their breathing and heartbeats regularised. Donna noticed his body temperature was lowering again, he felt cooler against her bare skin. She reached down and pulled the discarded duvet cover over both of them. “You’ll start shivering in a moment and if you start, I’ll start and I don’t like the cold that much.”

“You are definitely a warm blooded creature, Donna Noble... Hot blooded, sometimes!” he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

“Oh yes.” she sighed, snuggling into him. “And you love me for it.”

“Yes, I do.” He grinned, as she made sure they were both cocooned in the warm cover.

“But not like that.” Donna drowsily clarified, as his cold feet nestled between hers. A couple more minutes and she’d nod off.

“No, absolutely not like that.” the Doctor sighed contentedly as his forehead touched the top of her head.

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

~Fin~

Fic: It's a Ginger Thing... (2/2)

Tue, 06 May 2008 03:16:38 GMT

Title: It’s a Ginger Thing…

Author: Gruaig Rua

Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor

Rating: PG for very mild language and general Donna-ness

Summary: Post world-saving alcohol and arguments… Things happen!

Disclaimer: I have red hair, but I’m no Donna Noble. The Beeb and RTD pwn all. I do not!

Author’s notes: Concluding chapter. Thank you so far, for your kind comments!

It's a Ginger Thing... Ch 2

Donna Noble. In the kitchen. With a blender...

“Don’t be like that, Donna.” The Doctor pleaded in Donna Noble's fiery wake.

“What? You’re telling me you have a granddaughter! You’re what 34? 35? What age did you get “granny” knocked up at? 16?” Her anger was palpable, convinced that he was making a fool out of her.

“Donna, look at me. I am not human.” He marked off each difference on his fingers as if to emphasise his point. “I am a time travelling alien. I have 2 hearts and while you may think I look like a member of Duran Duran, I guarantee you I am not. I am 903 years old and haven’t always looked like this.” Had he been sober, the explanation might have been a bit more succinct!

His explanation hadn’t placated her. “903? You’re standing there telling me that you are nine hundred and three years old?” She looked him up and down. “903?”

He growled. “Alright! I’m not 903. I lied.” His arms flailed in desperation. “It’s ridiculous! I can’t bloody lie to you!”

“Thank you!” She sighed, throwing more fruit into the blender.

“I’m actually 987.” The Doctor grumbled. Donna threw a plum, hitting him on the forehead . “Ow! I’m telling you the truth. I’m not ready to face the prospect of the big four figures, so I knocked a few decades off my age. What’s the big deal? Are you going to tell me you’ve never lied about your age?”

“I never needed to.” Donna sniffed, proudly. “At 16, I had no trouble getting into over 21 discos and once I hit 25, nobody, bar my GP and optician would have the nerve to ask anyway!” She stopped attending to the smoothies and looked at him. “Sometimes I think I have you all figured out… and then I realise I don’t have a clue. I have to stop looking at you like you’re a normal guy… Cos you’re not, are you? And I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“I know.” He smiled. “I may look like I can pass for 29…”

“34!” Donna interrupted with a laugh. “Don’t push it!”

“Fine, 34!” His expression changed and Donna swore for a moment she could see all 987 years reflected in his large brown eyes. “I’ve led a long, varied life and it hasn’t always been happy. I had a family who I loved dearly… I had a home and now it’s gone. They’re gone… and I can’t tell you everything… I just…” She could see he was struggling. Alien or not, he was still just a bloke! And blokes were rubbish when it came to expressing emotion that wasn’t sport related! She did the one thing she knew he wouldn’t have a problem with and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. After a brief silence, he whispered in her ear. “Can we just get back to consuming dangerous amounts of alcohol?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Donna sighed quietly and returned to her creation. Once again, she poured alcohol through the stacks of fruit and then she topped it off with a spoonful of spice.

“Is that ginger?” The Doctor asked.

“Yes. That’s what gives it the kick, otherwise it’s too sweet.”

“Ginger!” He exclaimed, much to Donna’s amusement. He paced the kitchen, running fingers through his hair and pointing accusingly at the blender. “I should have known!”

“Oh god, you’re not allergic to ginger are you?” She gasped. “I can take it out…”

“Naah. Too late now.” He grumbled. “And it’s not an allergy as such… It just does weird things to me.”

“Something else I’ll have to remember in future!” Donna giggled as her finger hovered over the button to liquidise the concoction.

“Eh, you might want to remember the lid.” The Doctor pointed to the open topped blender. “Wouldn’t do to have a smoothie explosion in here.”

Donna sheepishly placed the lid on the blender and hit the button. Once she was happy with the mix, she disconnected the pitcher and they returned to the console room to continue their conversation which tended to the lighter side of life, the universe and everything.

“…No, I am a terrible dancer.” The Doctor confessed. “This body completely lacks any semblance of rhythm. I can’t even waltz. The last one… I could dance up a storm, this one… two left feet!” He waggled his red trainered feet from side to side.

Donna looked at him. “I don’t get half the things you say! I’m sure they make perfect sense in that mad head of yours, but to the rest of the universe, you’re a nutter.”

“Lulls them into a false sense of security.” He grinned. “Anyway, what about you? Ballet lessons when you were 5?”

“Do I look like I’ve ever had ballet lessons?” Donna laughed. “Did a salsa class last year for fun and before that, my Dad taught me to waltz for what was going to be the first dance at my wedding…” Her smile slowly faded, she lowered her head and rubbed her eyes. “I miss my dad. I wish he was still here.”

“I’m sorry, Donna.” The Doctor leant his head in, so it was resting on top of hers.

“Thanks.” Her head nestled comfortably on the Doctor’s shoulder. “That was why I kind of rushed into the wedding. I wanted him to walk me down the aisle whilst he was still able to. I know I’m not exactly top of anyone’s list, but after a few months with Lance , I thought this was my chance.” Donna said quietly. “He was nice, his family was lovely to me and I honestly thought that we had a future together, with a nice house somewhere and kids… I’m an only child. My mum’s an only child. I think she despaired of me ever carrying on the family line.” She stared at her glass like it was the most interesting thing in the world… Anywhere than rather look at the Doctor. “And it’s not like I’m a shrivelled old prune, but by the time I meet someone, get to know them, and get to that point in the relationship where we want to get married and have kids, I’m just a little bit afraid that I’ll have left it too late.”

“This is going to sound like a strange question, but do you miss him?” The Doctor asked.

“Lance? Sometimes.” Donna conceded. “And then I remember that he tried to murder me on our wedding day and quickly get over it… I’ll tell you what I do miss, though. The Sex.”

“Donna!” The Doctor was scandalised.

“Oh don’t be such a prude!” She laughed loudly at his shocked expression. “Nine hundred and something years old and you’re telling me you’ve never had sex for the sake of it?”

“Well… I…”

“You’ve had a string of pretty ladies - myself included - traipsing in and out of here for centuries and you’re telling me you remained celibate?”

“It’s not like that, Donna.”

She was on a roll. “Can you do it like we do it? Are you equipped to do it? Or do you do it entirely different to how we do it?” The Doctor had no opportunity to explain, due to Donna’s rapid fire questioning. “Can you get pregnant? Is that it? You won’t do it in case you get pregnant?”

He rolled his eyes. “I can’t get pregnant.”

“Could you get me pregnant?”

“Are you looking to get pregnant?” He was more than a little afraid of the answer she was going to give him.

“No!” Donna exclaimed. “Well, maybe not right at this moment… But in the not so far off future… maybe. Certainly not with you, thanks all the same!”

“I wasn’t offering.” He turned to face her.

“I wasn’t asking!” She replied, practically nose to nose.

“Good.”

“Good!”

It was difficult to say who made the first move, but all of a sudden there were hands and lips in places where both had sworn to themselves there would never be hands and lips…

Meanwhile, back in the bedroom…

Donna made the first move and wriggled her way out of the Doctor’s arms. She made no attempt to hide her modesty on the short walk across the room to the connecting bathroom. If she turned around to look, the Doctor didn’t know, as he had pretended to be sound asleep. He debated whether to leave the room before she finished her shower, but they were in the TARDIS, it’s not like there was anywhere to really disappear to… Actually, there were infinite places to hide, but he doubted the TARDIS would let him! Minutes later, Donna emerged, swathed in a large towelling bathrobe, her towel-dried hair hanging, unbrushed around her shoulders and silently left the room.

By the time the Doctor had summoned up the nerve to face her, Donna was in the kitchen, leaning against a counter with a large mug of coffee in her hand. She gave him a slight smile, which he returned. “Coffee’s fresh. I don’t think I’m fit for anything else. Unlike you, I do get hangovers!”

It looked like he’d be the one to have to broach the subject. “Don… Donna… um about what happened… I…”

“If you’re about to tell me that by the laws of your people we’re now married or joined, or connected, I swear, Alien Boy…”

“No!” The Doctor interrupted. “No no. Nothing like that! We just…”

“We just had a fun night.” Donna shrugged. “If you’re expecting more, I don’t think I’m the person who can give it to you. I’m sorry, but that’s just how I feel.” The Doctor was rendered speechless, which Donna took as shock and disappointment. “Not that last night wasn’t great, It was!… It was really, really good, to be perfectly honest! And keeping with honesty, I think, deep down, we both know that it would never work out… So let’s just chalk it up to alcohol! Cos, let’s face it, if we were stone cold sober, that never would have happened.”

“Yeah… I…”

She wasn’t going to give him a chance to regret it. “And it’s not that it shouldn’t have happened. It did. And I wouldn’t take back a moment of it... Especially not the second time, cos that was just… Wow!” The Doctor could tell from her smile that she was genuine. “But it wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust. It was need… and that’s no basis for a relationship.” She gave him a gentle, affectionate hug. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He was still completely thrown by her reaction… and she quickly picked up on it.

“You were about to say exactly the same thing, weren’t you.”

He stepped back from her and folded his arms. “Um… Yes. Yes I was.”

“You thought I was going to be all moony and ‘Oooh, I love you, Doctah. Let’s have babies and live happily ever after’, didn’t you.”

There was no point in lying to her, given that she’d been entirely honest with him… and she’d have seen through him in a second anyway! “A bit. Yes.”

“See, that’s the difference between having a woman on board, as opposed to some impressionable young one, dazzled by the smile and the hair.” Donna stood there, shaking her head, hands on hips… Classic Donna Noble pose, the Doctor thought… but the smile was still there. “You know what you are?”

“Yup!” He mimicked her body language and the way she’d berated him the day before. “I’m a Great big, outer space, dunce!” He was close enough to plant an entirely platonic kiss on her forehead. “Don’t ever change, Donna Noble.”

“I’m going to get changed and go home and visit Mum and Gramps… and if you think that’s your cue to disappear again?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Donna.” He laughed. “Besides, I still have your hats here and absolutely none of them suit me! You take all the time you want. I’ll be waiting.”

She handed him a mug on the way out of the room. “DoctorDonna friends?”

“DoctorDonna friends.” He repeated as she disappeared around the corner, leaving him to wonder how many more ways she’d surprise him in the future.

~Fin~

Thanks for reading. Reviews, comments welcome.

Fic: It's a Ginger Thing... (1/2)

Tue, 06 May 2008 03:03:54 GMT

Title: It’s a Ginger Thing…

Author: Gruaig Rua

Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor
Spoilers: S4 up to The Poison Sky

Rating: PG for very mild language and general Donna-ness

Summary: Post world-saving alcohol and arguments… Things happen!

Disclaimer: I have red hair, but I’m no Donna Noble. The Beeb and RTD pwn all. I do not!

Author’s notes: I hoped to have this as one single chapter. Live Journal is forcing me to do otherwise!

It’s a Ginger Thing…

A Bedroom, somewhere in Time and Space...

The couple lay on the large bed, spooned into each other. Their bodies a connected mess of limbs, hair and bed linen. The intimacy of their embrace was not matched by the couple's expressions. As they were both facing the same direction, neither could see the other’s face…

She was slightly non-plussed as to how she’d ended up there, but content to curl into her erstwhile lover’s embrace.

He was a mix of terrified and bewildered. How the bloody hell had he, the Doctor, ended up in bed with Donna Noble… and how on Earth would he get out of the situation without being killed where he lay?

The previous evening…

“I hope you don’t mind me staying on. I’m way too wound up to go visit the family just yet.” Donna was in the kitchen, calling out to the Doctor who strolled in from the main console room. He entered to find her standing at the kitchen table with a liquidiser, a mountain of fruit and several bottles of alcohol.

“It’s fine.” He stood with his hands in his pockets. “Martha’s debriefing UNIT and helping with the casualties… Besides, she has to bring back my coat, so we’ve loads of time before we head off anywhere.”

“So, what’s your poison?” Donna asked.

“Aspirin, mainly.” He replied casting a curious glance over the table. “Could kill me in an instant!”

“I wasn’t speaking literally, Doctor.” Donna smiled. “I’m about to make adult smoothies… Aspirin? Really?”

“Yup!” The Doctor popped the “P” as if to emphasise the point.

“Wow. I better remember that the next time you have an ‘edache. Don’t want to go bumping you off… Yet!” She started slicing some of the larger pieces of fruit with an ominous looking carving knife. “Seriously, there’s very little I know about you. You’re an alien with a time machine and you’re the last of your people. Gallifrey, you said it was called Gallifrey.” Donna decided it was important that she remembered the name of the Doctor’s home planet. It showed a bit of respect. If people could remember Pompeii 2000 years later, then she could remember Gallifrey for him. “So what do you say we share a pitcher of smoothies and learn a bit more about each other?

“Oh, I’m not big with questions.” The Doctor scrunched his face.

Donna poured copious amounts of Bacardi and Tia Maria on top of strawberries, grapes, apple, banana, several different colour berries and a few bits the Doctor couldn’t quite make out. Ignoring his protests, she switched on the liquidiser to create her smoothie, with a wide grin he was more than happy to reciprocate..

Minutes later, they were in the main console room, sitting side by side, leaning against the crash barriers. The Doctor took a long slug, through a straw, from his drink. “Good grief, woman! What the hell is in this?”

“I know. It’s good, isn’t it.” Donna grinned. “The trick is to throw some spice into the mix. Gives it a bit of a kick.”

“A bit?” he raised an eyebrow. “And somehow, I think the litre of alcohol you threw in is contributing slightly more to the kick than a pinch of mixed spices!”

“I never said how beautiful it is in here.” Donna sighed, biting into a luscious strawberry. “Not that the floor couldn’t use a rug, or something.” She shifted into a more comfortable position beside the Doctor. “But it just feels… I dunno… safe in here. I felt it even when I was on that Sontaran spaceship.”

“That’s the TARDIS.” The Doctor smiled, raising his glass in a toast. “She’ll look out for you.”

“You’ll have to give me more driving lessons. Teach me to fly her back to you if we ever get separated like that again.” The Doctor made some sort of non committal noise. Donna refilled his glass. “I’ll ask you again when you’re locked… Or do you not get drunk?”

“Yes, I get drunk.”

“What about the hangover?”

“Not so much!”

Donna tutted loudly. “Figures! You get all the fun without any of the consequences next day.” She looked at him. “I mean, you don’t look like an alien. The Ood and the Sontarans, they looked like aliens. But you? You may act like you come from another planet, but you look like a member of Duran Duran.”

“Duran Duran?” he spluttered. “Now I am offended!”

“What? The big hair, the coat billowing behind you, the cheekbones… “ Donna prodded him in the arm. “Pouting around the place like you’re in your own personal music video?”

“Could you have namedropped someone a little less… uncool?” The Doctor had a look on his face like he’d walked in something foul.

“Hey, what’s wrong with them?” Donna protested.

“Oh my god. Oh. My. God! You’re a duranie!” he laughed loudly.

“Hello! 80’s teenager, of course I was.”

“And you’re not the least bit ashamed to admit it.” He popped a grape in his mouth. “Very brave of you.”

“Oh shut up!” Laughing, Donna shouldered him. “So what kind of embarrassing music did you listen to as a teenager?”

The Doctor’s smile faded a little. “It was different where I grew up. A bit more staid and dull which is why I left.” His tone implied he wasn’t gong to discuss it further so Donna wisely changed the subject.

“Elvis. Presley, or Costello?” She asked, refilling both their glasses, emptying the pitcher.

“There is only one Elvis, and he is the King.” The Doctor raised his glass again. “Ah, huh, huh, huh, thangyewvurrymush!”

Donna rolled her eyes at his awful impression. “Did you meet him? Is he really dead, or did you do something to make him disappear?

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

“Knew it!” Donna grinned. “Any other conspiracies you want to own up to?”

“I had nothing to do with Shergar, Lord Lucan, or the rise of the Spice Girls. I may have had some fun drawing crop circles a few years back, but nothing that will ever stand up in court!”

“That must have been the one time you were just gadding around the place and not trying to stop the end of the world!” Donna’s playful tone had an underlying seriousness. “The few trips you’ve taken me… I thought it would be more of a laugh and less of the running for our lives.”

He smiled at her. “Are you saying I’m jeopardy friendly, Donna Noble?” But his attempt to lighten the conversation failed.

“Joke all you like, but it’s true. We were supposed to go to Rome, we ended up erupting a volcano. Even today…” She turned to look at him as if to impress upon him how serious she was. “You were completely resigned to killing yourself by blowing up the Sontaran ship. You throw yourself, unnecessarily, into these life or death situations without any regard for people who may actually care about you.”

“But I didn’t die. I’m still here.” He said softly, taking her hand.

“Through no fault of your own, Doctor. Boy genius hotwired the teleport and sent you back and you’re acting like it was nothing.”

“And you thought you’d get me drunk by way of a therapy session?” He had a hard tone to his voice.

“It’s better than ignoring it.”

“Look Donna, I’ve been doing this kind of thing for a long, long time.” The Doctor wanted to explain how wonderful his life was. “Zipping back and forth through time and space. I’ve seen and done so much. Yes, occasionally, there are close calls… but I’d rather roam the galaxy, living my life, than stay still to avoid getting hurt. Isn’t that why you wanted to come with me? To live, to experience the adventure?” She couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lit up when he spoke of celebrating his wanderlust. His passion was infectious.

“It’s been incredible, you know that.” She shook her head. “But, I think it’s the danger you like to experience too.”

“I’d never consciously seek to put you or Martha in danger.” He explained. “I’ve had others on board with me, you know that. Even before Martha and Rose. Travelling with companions, with my granddaughter…”

“Now you’re just taking the piss!” Donna snapped. She grabbed the empty pitcher and stormed out of the console room, with the Doctor in hot pursuit. “You know what, this was a mistake! I shouldn’t have bothered!”

To be concluded...

Feedback welcome and appreciated.

I haven't tasted food for a week.

Sun, 27 Apr 2008 00:47:05 GMT

It's not that I haven't eaten, I just haven't tasted anything for a week. I can differentiate between sweet, sour and savoury, but I don't get any flavour off anything.

It's not bloody fun!

I've been bunged up for a couple of weeks, but could taste food... and enjoy it... and then all of a sudden I can't taste anything. I went to the doctor on Thursday and I have major league horsepills for antibiotics, a really icky nasal spray and an expectorant for the cough from being a mouth breather for 2 weeks. Actually, not being able to taste the cough medicine is about the only bonus because cough medicines usually make me wanna vom!

I've had sinus infections before, infections that have completely kiboshed me for a couple of weeks at a time, but I never lost my sense of taste and smell. The anti biotics are working and I can actually breathe through my nose, but get no scents. I've been burning eucalyptus oil all evening and I for all I can smell, it could have been week old nappies! The place probably reeks of it...eucalyptus, that is!

I know it's bound to come back in the next couple of days as the infection clears up, but even after a week, I'm really starting to miss even basic things like the taste of that morning coffee, toast with real butter and strawberry jam, Tayto cheese and onion, orange juice, chocolate orange... it's disheartening and I am glum.

Wallpaper.

Sun, 23 Mar 2008 01:29:28 GMT

Doctored version (heh! See what I did there?) of the new pic on the BBC website. I've removed the writing and while it's bigger, I can't say it's cleverer!

If you want it, have at you! A comment would be appreciated if you are!

Brit Caps!

Thu, 21 Feb 2008 00:43:20 GMT

David presenting Kylie with Best International Female... What a startling coincidence that he just happened to be the one to present her with it, eh?

Quality is so so. This clip gave Power DVD indigestion. I blame the Osbournes!

Cute dance ahoy!

Happy pretty people.

Standard disclaimercakes: Blah blah blah... take what you want, comments are nice if you do... or even if you just come to look.

Series 4 Cinema Trailer Screenshots

Sat, 02 Feb 2008 01:50:46 GMT

They're not big. They're not clever, but they're here in case the trailer doesn't last long on YouTube. Screenshots from Joxer's upload!

So that's them. If there's anything worth taking, then go for it! And how fab does Catherine Tate look?!

Fic: Ordinary World... Extraordinary Girl (2/2)

Mon, 10 Dec 2007 01:30:25 GMT

Title: Ordinary World... Extraordinary Girl (2/2)
Author: Gruaig_rua
Rating: PG
Characters: Martha, Jack, The Doctor
Spoilers: Post LotTL. Martha works with Torchwood
Disclaimer: Blah blah blah cakes...I have nothing. I heart you RTD (most of the time anyway!)
Author’s notes: For the Martha Jones Holiday Fickafest. Prompts: Free Hugs Day and a broken picture frame.
Summary: Martha thinks she's coping with what happened during the year that never was. Her friends think differently...

Part 1

Part 2

Martha rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t believe how stupid she had been to let herself nod off like that. At least it was Jack who had found her and not Owen who was still asleep somewhere. There was still half a pot of Ianto’s coffee nearby. A couple of minutes in the microwave and it would be perfectly hot and drinkable and would keep her going until she could get out and sleep in her own bed and weather the recurring nightmares in private.

Martha watched the large mug spin around on the microwave’s turntable unaware of the figure leaning against the door frame behind her.

“What’s up, Doc?” The familiar voice startled Martha out of her reverie. The Doctor smiled warmly at her. “I’ve always wanted to say that!”

“Oh… Hello.” Martha said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you know that today is Free Hugs Day and I’ve dropped by to give you yours.” He wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in his tall frame. Martha’s body stiffened, the reaction unlike any he’d ever had from her before. She was usually so eager and welcoming in her embrace.

“At 5 in the morning?” Martha used the excuse of checking her watch to quickly extricate herself from him.

The Doctor was somewhat thrown by her tone. “I’m refuelling the TARDIS and I thought I’d drop in to say hello… I saw the lights on. Besides, who keeps time in a time machine?” His awkward attempt at conversation was abruptly stopped by the microwave beeping. Martha moved back to the far side of the room to get her coffee. It was obvious from her body language that she wanted to be nowhere near him. “Congratulations, by the way, Doctor Martha Jones.” His grin was met with silence, barely a reaction from her. He had half expected her to jump over the table that separated them and into his arms. Now it was a convenient barrier. The “happy reunion” route hadn’t worked on her. Time to be more direct. “You never rang. You gave me your phone, but you never rang.”

Martha shrugged. “I didn’t need you for anything.”

The words stung. “I didn’t think it was just for in case of emergencies dial D for Doctor. I thought you’d…”

“What? Ring and invite you round for tea? I’ve been kinda busy studying and working. Haven’t really had the chance.” She pottered around the kitchen, putting milk and sugar in the coffee. “By the way, how’s the Universe? Picked up a new travelling companion yet? Is she blonde?”

“Stop, Martha.”

“Stop what, Doctor? Carrying on with my life as normal as I try to forget what happened, like the rest of planet got to?” Her hands were on her hips and her head was cocked to the side. “Why don’t you go back to ice skating on the frozen lakes of Koor-Haan. That way we can avoid this little heart to heart and I can get back to my job.” Martha brushed past the Doctor without even looking at him and into the corridor. Jack was standing a few feet from her and from the look on his face, Martha knew exactly how the Doctor had come to be in Cardiff at five in the morning and it had nothing to do with refuelling the TARDIS. “You had no right!” She yelled at him.

“He’s trying to help, Martha. We both are.”

Martha spun around to face the Doctor. “If you really want to help, go back to the hospital the day we met and say ‘goodbye and thanks’. Don’t turn up after Leo’s party and don’t offer to take me on board the TARDIS. That way I’ll never be in the position to know what a Chameleon Arch is, or that a Timelord can store his essence in a fobwatch.”

“Martha, you know I can’t do that.” The Doctor said sadly.

“It makes perfect sense, Doctor. That way, I’ll never bring the watch to Professor Yana’s attention, he’ll never open it and The Master will never manifest.” Martha stopped to draw breath in order to fight back the tears that were forming. “That way, my family, Jack and you won’t have to go through… Well, you don’t need me to remind you what happened. You could forget you ever met me and I could have my ordinary life back.” She knew it was wishful thinking (no crossing into established events) but it seemed like the simplest, most obvious solution. “If I’d just left well enough alone.” She slumped against the wall, staring at the floor. “If I’d said nothing about that watch, Professor Yana would have taken his people to Utopia and they’d have lived happily ever after. But noooo! I can’t leave well enough alone, so he opened his watch because I drew attention to it and…” Martha faltered. “All that death… All that cruelty… All because of me.”

The Doctor was shocked into silence at her revelation.

“He was another Timelord. Do you honestly think The Doctor wouldn’t have wanted to know?” Jack said edging close enough to place a hand on her shoulder. “Martha, that watch would have been opened and the Master would have manifested anyway.”

“We’ll never know though, will we Jack.” Martha stood up and looked him in the eye. “You can talk about all the what ifs you like, but it won’t change one iota of what happened.”

“I’m so sorry.” The Doctor said quietly. “There should be statues of you for what you did… Or a commemorative portrait hanging in a gallery. At the very least there should be a street named for you… but there’s absolutely nothing. Nothing to indicate that the world needed saving in the first place and that’s because of you, Martha Jones.” He reached out his hand. “Come with me.” She was initially hesitant, but took his hand.

The Doctor brought her outside. A cold breeze whipped her hair around her face as dawn broke over the bay. “Do you see that sunrise?” Martha nodded as a golden orange glow appeared low on the horizon. Clouds had a deep mauve tint against a sky that was turning from black to blue. “That’s there because of you. Had you not inspired people with your story, that sunrise wouldn’t exist because there would have been no planet left. Because of you there are sunrises and Tuesdays and traffic jams and bad coffee in vending machines. Life goes on in all it’s wonderful mundane ordinariness because you saved the world.” He took her by the shoulders and squeezed tight. “And don’t ever labour under illusion that there’s anything ordinary about you, Martha. You are extraordinary. There’s not many who would have done… who could have done what you did.” He kissed her forehead. “If I could go back, I would, you know that.”

Martha nodded, tears leaving a cold trail down her face.

“I could make you forget it.” The Doctor said quickly. “I could take the memories so they wouldn’t trouble you anymore. And not just you…”

“No.” Martha said. “I had an idea that you could and that’s why I hadn’t called, why I was so rude to you back there. I knew if I saw you, I’d ask for you to take all the nightmares and memories away… And I knew you’d gladly do it because that’s the kind of man you are. You’d take our memories of it and you’d be the only one left who knew and I wouldn’t burden you with that. It’s not something you should carry alone.”

Jack watched from a distance as Martha and The Doctor talked. He couldn’t hear them, but from their body language, it was clear that they were making up. After a couple of minutes, The Doctor hugged Martha tightly and then headed back to the TARDIS. Before closing the door behind him, the Doctor saluted Jack. They’d speak again soon, he was sure of it. Once the TARDIS dematerialised, Martha made her way back over to Jack. Without a word, she stood on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “What’s this for?” He asked, his hands caressing her back as he held her close.

“Free Hugs Day.” Martha said. “I hadn’t given you yours.”

***

Jack sent Martha home soon after that using the excuse that she was too tired to be useful. It was fully bright by the time she returned to her apartment, but after years of shift work in preparation to be a Doctor, Martha knew she’d be asleep a few minutes after she went to bed… for how long, she had no idea.

Four hours later, Martha awoke with a start after another vivid, horrific nightmare. She took a couple of slow deep breaths to calm her rapid pulse and then picked up her mobile phone. “Hello, Jack?”

“Martha, is everything alright.”

“No, it’s not. I… I think we both need to talk.”

“I’d like that.”

~Fin~

Fic Ordinary World... Extraordinary Girl (1/2)

Sun, 09 Dec 2007 01:51:00 GMT

Title: Ordinary World... Extraordinary Girl (1/2)
Author: Gruaig_Rua
Rating: PG
Characters: Martha, Jack, The Doctor
Spoilers: Post LotTL. Martha works with Torchwood
Disclaimer: Blah blah blah cakes...I have nothing. I heart you RTD (most of the time anyway!)
Author’s notes: For the Martha Jones Holiday Fickafest. Prompts: Free Hugs Day and a broken picture frame.
Summary: Martha thinks she's coping with what happened during the year that never was. Her friends think differently...

***

Martha Jones knelt before The Master on the flight deck of the Valiant. Her heart raced in time with the countdown that would reveal a plan hatched a year ago on that very bridge.

“Such a disappointment, this one…” The Master gloated. Martha allowed him his insult. She had a year to come to terms with her feelings for The Doctor and the seemingly unfair comparisons to her predecessor, Rose Tyler, lost forever to a parallel dimension and missed by both the Doctor and Jack. He prattled on, to a captive global audience and mid flow, Martha laughed. The Master hadn’t a clue! Traipsing the world looking for the only weapon in existence that could kill him? Her reaction caused him to stop. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve got her exactly where I want her.”

Other way around, pal! Martha thought. She took her time explaining the story, ever mindful of the countdown as she tried to keep the Master distracted until Zero. “I told them if everyone thinks of one specific word at one time… Right across the world, one word… one thought at just the right moment.”

Instead of puzzlement, the Master smiled. “My Archangel network? A telepathic field.” Martha’s face dropped. He wasn’t supposed to know. How could he have known? “Everyone across the world thinking the same thing at the same time.” He had that condescending tone in his voice and a gloating grin on his face as the countdown hit single digits. “And that one word? Master.” Martha stood, horrified. The countdown hit Zero and the Master started to glow with unlimited power generated by billions of people thinking and chanting his name.

“No… This is wrong. It’s not supposed to be like this!” Martha screamed at him.

The Master waved a hand around the room. First, Martha’s family were turned to burning ash, then Jack. The Doctor, tiny and Yoda-like in his cage wasn’t spared the carnage. Everyone around her obliterated by a manically laughing monster… And then The Master turned his gaze to Martha. “Thank you.” He grinned at her. “First you freed me, Martha Jones, then you made me a God.“ His hand reached out and stroked her cheek, the skin searing red hot before turning charcoal black.

She gasped as the burning spread down her neck, her torso, her arms. Watching flesh turning to ash…

“No.” Martha jerked awake. Not quite ‘sitting up, screaming from a nightmare’ beloved of horror films… nothing quite so dramatic. Her heart continued to race as a trembling hand reached out to check the time on her alarm clock. 3.15am. Two straight hours without waking up, which was an improvement. It hand been close to 18 months since Martha Jones had enjoyed a full night’s sleep. To all but a handful of people, it was seen as 6 months because 12 of them no longer existed. A year of horror and hardship obliterated from the minds of the populace when the Paradox righted itself. Blissful ignorance Martha thought and for a moment, she hated ever single one of them because they lived free of the memories that plagued her dreams.

When everything had returned to “normal”, Martha threw herself into her studies. Three months of hard graft to take her mind of, well, everything that wasn’t her studies. She passed, of course. Not as high a mark as she would have liked, but under the circumstances, it was impressive. The job offer from Jack to work with Torchwood in Cardiff followed within a matter of days and Martha had turned it down. It was too far away from her family. Francine argued that if she was still travelling with the Doctor, she’d be even further away.

“Yes,” Martha said with a strained tone. “but if I was needed here, I could be back within minutes from the TARDIS. Virgin Rail might take a bit longer.”

“Martha, it’s not that we don’t need you.” Francine smoothed a stray hair from Martha’s face. “But you need to leave for your own sake. You won’t talk to us about what happened to you and you need to stop seeing us as your problem to fix and go back to seeing us as your annoying, overbearing family that you can’t wait to be rid of once you’ve graduated.” She finally raised a smile from her middle child. “You’ve graduated, Martha. You’re a doctor with a great job offer. Now please be a good girl and run away from home!”

***

It hadn’t taken long for Martha to find her place in Torchwood. The team, dysfunctional as they were, accepted her into their numbers and she enjoyed the work… She especially enjoyed working with Jack, who had been so helpful in getting her settled with her meagre personal possessions in a beautiful apartment that came with the job. There were a few items that hadn’t been completely destroyed in the explosion at her old flat and pride of place in her new home was a rescued metal picture frame. Originally it was pretty and decorative with silver coils made to look like vines weaving around a trellis. But now, the bottom left-hand corner was mangled and discoloured after melting. New glass had been put in, and the family photo, taken when Martha was 7, was copied again from the original. It couldn’t have cost more than £20 and Jack even offered to replace it as a housewarming gift, but Martha wouldn’t hear of it. It was tarnished and damaged, but still standing… a bit like Martha herself. Instead, he opened a bottle of really good red wine and shared it with her. They’d had an easy start to their friendship on Malcassairo and when it all went to hell in a hand basket, he had been an ally, a trusted confidante. Jack had spent a year with her family and kept them going and for that, she would be eternally grateful. It wasn’t that she was in love with him, or anything like that, but she did enjoy a bit of a flirt with him now and again. It seemed to be Jack’s modus operandi. Martha suspected it was his coping mechanism. It had her coping mechanism of “ignore it and hope it goes away” beat hands down… but it couldn’t be ignored for long.

***

It was heading on for 4am and Martha Jones was beyond tired. A crèche had been infected by an alien organism. Her colleague Owen Harper was confident that they could come up with an antidote before any of the children were seriously affected by it, but it was taking a long time. Owen had put his head down for a couple of hours, at Martha’s suggestion, while she monitored the experiments. It was inevitable that she nodded off at the desk, her head resting on her folded arms. Not long after that, the nightmare started. First the twitching, then the whimpering. Jack had been keeping an eye from his office, not minding that she’d fallen asleep. What he did mind was that she seemed caught up in a bad dream. He quietly left his office and went to the heart of the Hub where Martha was and stooped down beside her.

“Martha?” He whispered, gently placing a hand on her shoulder,

“No!” Martha’s eyes bolted open and she shoved Jack hard, back to the ground. “You’re not real. You’re dead.”

Jack quickly realised that Martha was still asleep and was having a sort of waking nightmare. He spoke gently, as he rose from the floor. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” Placing one hand on her neck and the other around her waist, he drew her into a secure hug. “You can wake up now.” He felt her jerk against his chest and try to pull away from him, but he kept his grip on her. “It’s alright Martha. You’re safe, okay?” He felt her arms move around his waist and her head burrow into his shoulder. From the shake in her shoulders, he could tell she had started to cry. “Talk to me Martha, tell me what’s going on in your head.”

“No.” Came the muffled reply. “It’s not fair to dump my issues on you when you’ve got your own to deal with.”

“And I’m dealing with them. You’re very obviously not.” Jack pulled back to look her in the eye. “You have to talk to someone before it either kills you or drives you round the twist.”

“Because telling a shrink about a year that never happened when the world was being systematically destroyed by the British PM is not a fast track to the local loony bin!” Martha rolled her eyes and released herself from Jack’s embrace.

“Who said anything about talking to a shrink? Talk to me.”

“I can’t. I’m not adding my traumas to yours when it was all my fault in the first place.”

“What?”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.” Martha smoothed down her lab coat and stood up straight. “I’m fine.” She hunched over a nearby microscope. “I need to check the results on these. There’s some very sick children waiting on a cure.” The walls were up. Jack knew there was no point in pursuing it, for the moment.

“Sure.” He said, adopting the same business-like tone as Martha. “Let me know when you have a workable vaccine.” And as much as it killed him to do it, he left her to her work. The Martha Jones working for him was a shadow of the brilliant, feisty, resourceful woman whose first instinct was to resuscitate when she found Jack dead outside the TARDIS. It had been a rare pleasure to come back to life looking into those beautiful, expressive eyes and seeing a smile that could light up a room. The eyes seemed darker and the smile a lot less frequent since they defeated The Master.

Back in his office, Jack made a phone call. The first time he had dialled this number, he thought he was ringing Martha to offer her a job, unaware that she had given her phone to the Doctor…

“Martha!” the Doctor exclaimed, delighted to hear from her.

“Um, no.” A decidedly male voice said. “It’s Jack.”

“Jack!” The Doctor exclaimed in the same happy tone.

“Why have you Martha’s phone?”

“She gave it to me.”

“Why?” Jack asked.

“So we could stay in touch.” The Doctor replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Has she called you?”

“Um… No. Not yet.”

“She passed her exams.” Jack said. “Martha’s now a doctor, Doctor.”

“Doctor Doctor, heh. I like that!”

Jack had been surprised at how serious the call had gotten after that, with both talking openly about how they were getting on. The next call couldn’t have been more different. Just one simple exchange.

“She needs you.”

“I’m on my way.”

True to his word, The Doctor arrived within minutes leaving the TARDIS parked in its usual spot on Roald Dahl Plas, absorbing power from the Rift. Jack quietly left the Hub and fished his key from around his neck. It slotted easily in the lock and let him in. “How’s my girl?” Jack said quietly, looking around the TARDIS’ console room and placing a gentle hand on one of the coral struts. “You look great. He better be looking after you properly.”

“That’s what I was going to say!” The Doctor smiled emerging from under the console. He strode to Jack and embraced him tightly. “Captain.”

“Doctor.” Jack revelled in the hug. “Much as I’m enjoying this, we have something else to take care of.”

(TBC)

VotD Screencaps (Spoilery, natch!) from the BBC Trailer

Sun, 02 Dec 2007 19:26:24 GMT

I love my slo-mo! It makes it so easy to do screencaps. I have no idea what's going on in them, but David Tennant is in Tux and Glasses. What more do you want? Oh all right then, theres a bit of Kylie and the TARDIS too!

Everyone seems to be having a jolly good time except the Doctor...

See, Kylie's happy!

Probably not so much now that she's being beamed somewhere!

The Robot Santas try a different tack this year, seeing as their disguises sucked for the last 2! (But will we see the return of evil Christmas trees and decorations?)

Oh noes! Upside down TARDIS!

Just talk among yourselves for a few moments while I recover my senses. (David Tennant + Tux + WTF? face = Squee!!)

[Cameron and Ferris from Ferris Bueller's Day Off] Batta batta batta... Sa-weeeeng batta! [/Cameron and Ferris from Ferris Bueller's Day Off]

Will he hit a home run? He can get to third base with me anytime!

~~David and Kylie's Stunt doubles~~ The Doctor and Astrid dive out of the way of an explosion

Peeep!!

Halp! I'm being attacked by a BBC ident!

Slightly higher res than my userpic.

Think of them as an early Christmas present and help yourself... comments would be nice, tho!

The Continuing Adventures of Gruaigrua...

The Sum of His Parts Ch7/8

The Sum of His Parts Ch6

The Sum of His Parts Chapter 5

The Sum of His Parts Chapter 4

The Sum of his Parts Ch 3

Chapter 3

The Sum of His Parts Ch 2

Chapter Two

The Sum of His Parts Chapter 1.

Chapter One

Review: Hamlet at the Novello Theatre, London 18 December 2008.

Ham(*koff*)let at the Novello(*parp*) 18 December 2008

"The play's the thing!" - A wonderful weekend in Stratford-Upon-Avon

Left Handers of the World Rejoice!

Hamlet... Here be spoilers!

Fic: The One Adventure... (1/1)

Fic: Choices (For the Martha Jones Footsteps Project)

I haz an Icon!

Fic: Selfish.

Fic: It's a Ginger Thing... (2/2)

Meanwhile, back in the bedroom…

Fic: It's a Ginger Thing... (1/2)

It’s a Ginger Thing…

The previous evening…

I haven't tasted food for a week.

Wallpaper.

Brit Caps!

Series 4 Cinema Trailer Screenshots

Fic: Ordinary World... Extraordinary Girl (2/2)

Fic Ordinary World... Extraordinary Girl (1/2)

VotD Screencaps (Spoilery, natch!) from the BBC Trailer

Ham(koff)let at the Novello(parp) 18 December 2008