Doctor Who Fan Fiction ❯ Donna and Ten - The Inbetweens and backstories ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

Donna Noble ambled into the kitchen, where her mother, Sylvia was preparing dinner. Her granddad, Wilf, was sitting at the table drinking tea.

 

'Evenin' Sweetheart,' he said cheerfully. 'There's tea in the pot.'

 

'Thanks Granddad.'

 

`Have you found a job yet?' Sylvia asked in a disapproving tone. 'Or have you just been out meeting those weirdoes's off the internet?'

 

'I was . . . doing some voluntary work in the hope of finding . . . a job,' she replied in exasperation. She'd moved back in with her parents after returning from holiday in Egypt, and shortly afterwards, her dad had died. Since then, her mum had been nagging her incessantly about everything; it was as though everything she did would never be good enough for her.

 

'That's very enterprisin' of ya Gal,' Wilf said in her defence.

 

Donna felt a bit guilty about that, because the voluntary work had been to go and visit a haunted house called Wester Drumlins, in the hope of finding a tall, thin alien with sticky up hair and a blue police box. There had been reports of people going missing, cars abandoned, and now, the investigating detective had also disappeared.

 

She'd already been to the RoyalHopeHospital, but all the action had finished when she got there. And it had been the same at the haunted house today, there was just a crayon message telling someone called Sally Sparrow to duck, and a collection of gruesome statues in the basement, standing in a circle.

 

And then the conspiracy sites had been buzzing with stories about the Lazarus Laboratories in Southwark, where the old man on the news had become a young man who tried to kill everyone. That one had got the Doctor written all over it, but once again, by the time she got there, it was all over.

 

She was trying to find the Doctor, because after coming back from Egypt, she had tried to settle back into a normal life, but like so many people who had been inside that impossible box before her, it had changed her perception of the world, and the universe, and her life would never be normal again.

 

`Well, you could always . . . come with me,' he had asked her, but she had seen him in that place under the Thames, all fire and ice and rage. Like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun, ancient and forever. Burning at the centre of time, seeing the turn of the universe . . . He was terrifying. It was fair to say, that she had been in shock that day.

 

But in Egypt, she'd had time to relax, and reflect on the events of that day, and she had remembered that the Doctor had tried to offer the Empress a way out.

 

`Empress of the Racnoss, I give you one last chance. I can find you a planet; I can find you and your children a place in the universe to co-exist. Take that offer and end this now,' he had told her, but she had just laughed at him, saying `These men are so funny.'

 

`What's your answer?' He'd demanded.

 

`Oh I'm afraid I have to decline,' she'd said in a patronising tone.

 

And what he'd said then made her blood run cold. `What happens next is your own doing.' It wasn't particularly what he said, but the way he'd said it. His voice was quiet and cold, devoid of any anger; the only emotion she could remember in his voice was of remorse or regret.

 

She thought about his offer to travel with him. "But you've seen it out there . . . it's beautiful," he'd said, and now she'd had time to think about it, he was right. She had stood at the doors of that crazy box and looked out on the universe, at a beautiful wispy nebula, all purple and red.

 

'Well lady,' Sylvia said, bringing her back to the present. 'The sooner this voluntary work gets you a job the better.'

 

Wilf was miming Sylvia's words and pulling a face as he did it, which made Donna splutter her tea into the mug. She loved her granddad, and he was her one ally who understood what she was trying to get from life.

 

After they had eaten, her mum went out for the evening to meet up with some friends, and her granddad had gone to his allotment. Donna logged onto her laptop and started to search the conspiracy web sites. She made a note of the local stories, and then sorted them into the order of which would be most likely to attract the attention of the Doctor.

 

'Bees disappearin'?' she said to herself. 'Right, check with some local beekeepers and see what they have to say.'

 

Then there was a story that caught her eye, not particularly because it would attract the attention of the Doctor, but because she had heard her mum mention the company, Adipose Industries. She'd said that when Donna had got a job and started to bring some money into the house, she wouldn't mind trying the slimming tablets.

 

The web site she was on had a report from an investigative journalist, which claimed that, the test reports and data from Adipose Industries was fabricated, and that something else, something sinister was causing the weight loss.

 

'Something sinister eh, I wonder if he'd agree?' she asked herself, thinking about the Doctor. She searched for information on Adipose Industries and found some news items, including a press conference scheduled for tomorrow.

 

'Right then, I reckon that place needs a health and safety inspection.' She knew from previous places she'd worked at, that the Health and Safety Executive would conduct unannounced inspections, and that employers were terrified of them.

 

She searched for images of official I.D badges, and printed a few off, cutting them to size so that they fitted over her driver's license, with the corner cut out to show her photograph. If she walked in as though she owned the place, and flashed the driver's license with a fake pass in front of it, she should be able to get in.

 

 

Adipose Industries, London .

 

Monday 12th May 2008 .

 

 

Donna walked through the revolving doors of the multi-storey, glass, and steel office building, carrying a red clip board, and headed for the lifts as though she knew exactly where she was going. She didn't . . . not yet, but she soon would. Having worked in many offices over the years, she knew that a press conference would be listed on an events board somewhere in the foyer.

 

And there it was, just past the reception counter, a stand up board with a list of events for the day. At the top of the list was `Press announcement with Miss Foster - Lecture Theatre - First Floor.'

 

'Donna Noble, Health and Safety,' she said to the security man at the lift, quickly flashing her small wallet with the fake I.D in it. She stepped out on the first floor and followed the signs, and the interested parties to the lecture theatre. She took a seat, half way down the auditorium, and looked all around the room, looking for a particular, distinctive, sticky up hair style.

 

She sat down disappointedly, and waited for the presentation to start. "Where is he?" she thought to herself as she waited. She was sure that something like this would draw him like a moth to light bulb. If she only knew that he was only a few metres above her in the projection room, waiting like her for the show to start.

 

A prim and proper blonde woman, dressed in an immaculate, dark business suit, walked onto the stage and stood at the microphone.

 

'Adipose Industries, the twenty first century way to lose weight. No exercise, no diet, no pain, just lifelong freedom from fat. The Holy Grail of the modern age. And here it is.' Miss Foster held up a small red and white capsule.

 

'You just take one capsule . . . one capsule, once a day for three weeks, and the fat, as they say . . .' She turned to look at the projection screen behind her.

 

A smooth voice over said. 'The fat walks away.'

 

A young dark skinned woman raised her hand and interrupted the presentation. 'Excuse me, Miss Foster, if I could? I'm Penny Carter, science correspondent for The Observer. There are a thousand diet pills on the market, a thousand con men stealing people's money. How do we know the fat isn't going straight into your bank account?'

 

"Ooh, good on yer girl," Donna thought, "that's rattled her." She recognised that name from somewhere, and then she realised it was her blog on the conspiracy web site.

 

Miss Foster removed her glasses and regained her composure. 'Oh, Penny, if cynicism burnt up calories, we'd all be as thin as rakes, but if you want the science, I can oblige,' she said smoothly, trying to hide her irritation.

 

The projection screen showed an animation to accompany the smooth voice over. 'Adipose Industries. The Adipose capsule is composed of a synthesised mobilising lipase, bound to a large protein molecule. The mobilising lipase breaks up the triglycerides stored in the adipose cells, which then enter the bloodstream and cause spontaneous absorption.'

 

Donna listened to the presentation, without a clue of what they were talking about. She often watched adverts on the telly about, shampoo, face cream and healthy yoghurt, and was taken in by the scientific sounding enzymes and bacteria. She was out of her depth; she needed a doctor, she needed THE Doctor.

 

'One hundred percent legal, one hundred percent effective,' Foster said as the short film finished.

 

'But, can I just ask, how many people have taken the pills to date?' Penny the journalist asked.

 

'We've already got one million customers within the Greater London area alone, but from next week, we start rolling out nationwide. The future starts here, and Britain will be thin.'

 

After the presentation, Donna found her way to the call centre, where a number of operatives were in individual cubicles, cold calling customers. She found a young man called Craig, and managed to get the free gift of a pendant as a sample . . . for health and safety, of course. She also managed to blag a list of customers off him . . . for health and safety, of course.

 

 

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

 

 

Donna returned home late in the evening, after calling in on a local beekeeper, to see if he had any information on why the bees were disappearing, before visiting one of the Adipose customers. The beekeeper was as much in the dark as Donna was, as the bees seemed to be healthy, and the hive was thriving, when suddenly, all the bees would leave without a trace.

 

The visit to the Adipose customer had turned out weird, as the woman, called Stacey, had disappeared from her bathroom, and Donna had seen a small, grey, alien jump out of the small window. She had no idea where Stacey had gone, was she teleported away like she had been on her wedding day? Had she been transformed into that little grey creature?

 

'And what time's this Sylvia called from the kitchen, as Donna walked in through the front door.

'How old am I?'

 

'Not old enough to use a phone.'

 

Donna went through to the kitchen and put the kettle on to make a cup of tea.

 

'I thought you were only moving back for a couple of weeks,' Sylvia said as Donna sat at the table drinking her tea. 'Look at you. I mean, you're never gonna find a flat, not while you're on the dole.' Donna sat there in stunned silence, trying to get her head around the idea that a woman could disappear from a locked bathroom.

 

'And it's no good sitting there, dressed up, looking like you're job hunting.' Sylvia was off on one tonight.

 

'You've got to do something. It's not like the 1980s. No one's unemployed these days except you,' she continued.

 

'How long did that job with Health and Safety last? Two days, and then you walk out.' On and on she went.

 

'I have other plans. Well, I've not seen them.' All the time, Sylvia was cleaning the kitchen as she nagged.

 

'And it's no good sitting there dreaming. No one's going to come along with a magic wand and make your life all better.'

 

'Where is Granddad?' Donna asked, trying to get her mother off her case.

 

'Where do you think he is? Up the hill. He's always up the hill.'

 

"And who can blame him?" Donna thought to herself, it got him away from her incessant nagging.

 

'Aye, aye. Here comes trouble,' Wilf said as he saw Donna approach his little sanctuary of a ramshackle shed on his allotment.

 

'Permission to board ship, sir?' she said jokingly.

 

'Permission granted,' he said with a salute. 'Was she nagging you?'

 

She returned the salute and laughed. 'Big time . . . Brought you a thermos.'

 

'Oh, ta.' He sat down in his garden chair.

 

'You seen anything?' she asked, nodding at the telescope, and looking up to the heavens.

 

'Yeah, I've got Venus, there with an apparent magnitude of minus three point five. At least, that's what it says in my little book.'

 

Donna took a tarpaulin out of the shed and put it on the ground next to him. 'Here, come and see. Come on. Here you go. Right?'

 

She knelt down and looked through the telescope at the bright evening star.

 

'That's the only planet in the Solar System named after a woman.'

 

'Good for her. How far away is that?'

 

'Oh, it's about twenty six million miles. But we'll get there, one day. In a hundred years time we'll be striding out amongst the stars. Jiggling about with all them aliens . . . just you wait.'

 

'You really believe in all that stuff, don't you?'

 

'It's all over the place these days. If I wait here long enough . . .'

 

'I don't suppose you've seen a little blue box?' she asked him hopefully.

 

'Is that slang for something?'

 

'No, I mean it. If you ever see a little blue box flying up there in the sky, you shout for me, Gramps. Oh, you just shout.'

 

'Do you know, I don't understand half the things you say these days,' he said, giving her a worried look.

 

She smiled at him. 'Nor me.'

 

'No, fair dos. You've had a funny old time of it lately. There was poor old what's his name, Lance, bless him, and that barmy old Christmas. I wish you'd tell us what really happened.'

 

'I know. It's just, the things I've seen, sometimes I think I'm going mad. I mean, even tonight I was in a . . . doesn't matter.' How could she tell him what she'd seen?

 

'Well, you're not yourself, I'll give you that. You just, you seem to be drifting, sweetheart.'

 

'I'm not drifting . . . I'm waiting.'

 

'What for?'

 

'The right man.'

 

'Same old story. A man!'

 

They both laughed. 'No, I don't mean like that. But, he's real. I've seen him. I've met him, just once, and then I let him fly away.'

 

'Well, there you are. Go and find him.'

 

'I've tried,' she said sadly. 'He's nowhere.'

 

'Oi, not like you to give up. Do you know, I remember when you were about six years old, your mother said no holiday this year. So off you toddled, all on your own and you got on a bus to Strathclyde. Ha! We had the police after you and everything. Ha, where's she gone, then. Where's that girl, hey?'

'You're right. Because he's still out there, somewhere. And I'll find him, Gramps. Even if I have to wait a hundred years, I'll find him.'