![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aearwen2Continuing the story...
Chap 1 Chap 2 Chap 3 Chap 4 Chap 5 Chap 6 Chap 7 Chap 8
“You didn’t have to do this,” Donna complained as the Doctor stubbornly took up the dish towel. “After all, you cooked…”
“And you're supposed to be resting,” he responded with his trademark impish grin. “I could argue that you should just sit back down and let me handle things.”
“I’m not totally incapable, you know…”
“I know that – never said you were. I’m just thinking that you could do with someone watching out for you for a change.”
“Something tells me that you could use that as well,” she said seriously, dropping the first soup bowl into the rinse and starting on the second. “This person you were supposed to be a companion for – what happened there?”
Oh, trust Donna to get to the meat of a problem. Her questions about Gallifrey and his role in the Time War had been gentle, but direct – leaving him little choice but to give her the unvarnished truth. In days past, he would have prevaricated, but her responses to his questions had been direct and unapologetic; he had owed her nothing less.
Even in the other universe, his Donna had asked hard questions about Rose. He found himself grateful that he’d had weeks to come to terms with the dissolution of their relationship before having to face such queries again. At least he didn’t have to leave this Donna with the notion that he was pining after someone else when he was with her.
“After the Cybermen, she found herself trapped here in this universe. She’d traveled with me for a couple of years and fancied herself in love with me for most of that time; and as a result, worked hard and long to figure out a way to get back across the Void.” He reached up to put both of the cleaned and dried bowls back into the cupboard. “The thing is, as I told you, time works differently here. For me, it only took a couple of years for her to find me; for her, it was closer to six and a half years. In that time, she had developed expectations of me based on fantasies and wishful thinking and long separation; and she herself had become someone I didn’t know anymore, someone who would jeopardize all of creation to satisfy her desires. After we returned to this universe, it didn't take long before we mutually agreed that being anything other than acquaintances was a bridge too far – especially after I made certain she couldn’t damage the multiverse again going looking for the other me.” He grimaced as the memory of the arguments and tantrums flashed by in his mind. “I – this me – has trapped her here very permanently now, and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for that one.”
When he finally got the courage to look into Donna’s face again, the Doctor found her staring at him with mouth open. A mere moment later, her mouth snapped shut again, and her face took on an expression of exasperation. “She’s a damned fool,” she commented heatedly. "She sounds childish and spoiled, and frankly you're well shed of her. You deserve better."
Now it was the Doctor’s turn to stare. Where had that come from? Was she defending him? “Thank you, I think…”
"But did you love her? Did she have a basis for her dreams?"
Ouch! Once more, Donna's ability to nail the crux of the matter caught him off-guard. "I was quite fond of her for a while. She met me not long after I'd regenerated the time before this one, and I was a mess at the time, angry that I'd survived…"
"Not long after that Time War you spoke of?" Her voice had softened, as if she knew now she was touching on a delicate topic for him.
"Yeah. Anyway, she helped me remember that there was still beauty in the universe, and taught me how to laugh and feel again. She did what I thought couldn't be done. I suppose I may have let her believe I felt something deeper than friendship, but it would have been because I wasn't in a place where such matters even registered with me at the time." He looked at Donna frankly. "She saved me, and I'll be eternally grateful to her for that. Without her, I would have seen to it that I didn't outlive my people by very long. She was the best friend I'd had in centuries, but… love her? Romantically? I don't know – and after what she did to get back to me, I realized that there was a part of her I didn't understand and couldn't accept."
"So it's possible that you did love her at one time."
"Weeellll…"
"But you don't now?"
"No." Of that he was certain. The animosity and cruelty Rose had heaped on him after he'd removed the Dimensional Cannon from her world couldn't be excused away. If what he'd felt for her had been love, she'd killed it. "I could never love someone who put their own desires over the welfare of the rest of creation, or who would take offense when I defended the rest of creation against her." He could only hope that he was making it perfectly clear that Rose was off his dance card. Permanently.
Which made room for Donna, if the two of them could make it work properly. The Doctor thought a silent prayer to the myriad deities he didn't believe in that he could accomplish that.
Donna was silent for a while, clearly mulling things over as her hands finished washing the pan that had held the soup. "That apartment of yours looks to be pretty new for you. How long have you been in this universe?"
That one was easy to answer. "About six months now." And anticipating her next question, he added, "I've had the apartment for the last month."
"Where were you staying before then?"
"At the Tyler mansion."
"Tyler – as in Pete Tyler, the head of Torchwood?"
"Yup." He popped the p.
"So Pete knows you're an alien."
"Half-alien, and yes." He slid the silverware drawer closed and leaned his hip against the counter, waiting for the pan to hit the rinse water. He debated, and then decided that putting the rest of the story out there could avert other, more difficult questions later on. "The woman I've been talking about is Rose Tyler, Pete's daughter."
"Ah." Donna's slow nod as she pulled the pan from the rinse and handed it to him told the Doctor that he'd made the right choice. She knew it all now. The time had come for him to find out if being open and transparent had accomplished what he'd hoped. "May I ask you a question?"
"Sure." The wash water was draining, and she was chasing bubbles as she cleaned up the sink.
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
A startled blue-green gaze immediately turned to him. "Why?"
"Weeelll… I have furniture being delivered, if you remember, and I was wondering if I could convince you to wait with me for it. I could get the supplies I needed, and make you that Chicken Cordon Bleu for dinner to say thank you afterwards…" He smiled at her hopefully.
"Surely you have more important things to do with your time after your stuff is delivered…" she started.
The Doctor put his hand on her forearm. "Donna, my weekends tend to be almost as bleak as yours, if truth be told. I usually do exactly what you accused me of earlier: I go into work and putter about the place, or else Jackie would insist that I come up to the mansion and spend time there. That wasn't too bad, as little Tony is a joy to be around; but running into Rose is never pleasant lately. Thing is, other than the Tylers, I've got nowhere else to go, no one else to be with. It's been hard for me to just socialize and make friends, because my life up to now is pretty hard to believe for most folks." Very deliberately, and watching closely, he moved his hand down until he could tangle his fingers with hers. "You're the first person I've been able to talk to – I mean really talk to – other than Pete and Rose and Jackie since I came here."
Donna's gaze had dropped to their joined hands, and now she blushed. "You're the first person I've talked to – really talked to – other than my therapist." She looked back up at him. "And you're the first person not to treat me as if I were made of soap bubbles ready to pop."
"Soooo…" The Doctor couldn't help but be caught in her gaze, couldn't help see the shy hope it held, couldn't help being struck by how similar their situation was. Both of them were supremely lonely and hurting, and had found solace in each other's company by simply having someone to talk to who didn't judge. He knew very well that he didn't want their time together to end at all, and that he'd do just about anything to extend it. Perhaps she felt the same way too… "What do you say? I could come pick you up in the morning and take you out to breakfast…"
"You could stay here," Donna suggested in a very soft voice. "I do have a guest room, you know." Her cheeks colored a little more. "I could make you breakfast, and we could make another day of it: wait for deliveries, arrange the furniture, go shopping and then dinner..."
"Donna…"
"Of course, if you don't think…" She hurriedly extracted her hand from his keeping, and from the way her blush deepened, he could tell she was embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"
The loss of her hand in his was almost painful, and the Doctor reached for her again instinctively. "I'm not saying no," he told her reproachfully. "I'm just… surprised…"
"I'm being too forward," Donna accused herself, turning away and drying her hands. "And you're my boss…"
"I'm not your boss. We both work for Torchwood."
"You manage the archive, and I'm just your assistant," Donna countered firmly. "You were kind enough to take care of me when I was being massively stupid, and I appreciate that. You don't need to worry about me anymore than you already have."
The Doctor sighed. For whatever reason, the sense of closeness and shared need had evaporated as if it had never existed. Maybe it hadn't, he considered with a mental sigh this time. Maybe he had just been dreaming that their relationship had moved from a simple workplace acquaintance to something a little more… meaningful. He shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I'll just be heading home, then. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Maybe we'll have the Chicken Cordon Bleu some other time…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out her keys. "Here, I should return these before I forget."
"Ian…"
"I'm glad you're feeling better," he said sadly. "I'll see you on Monday." He turned and headed for the front door before he could fall to the temptation to say anything else that he might regret, feeling as if he'd just fallen into a dark hole where dreams were born, only to perish before they could even draw breath.
oOoOo
Donna stared dumbly at the door that had closed so softly and finally behind Ian's fleeing form. What had happened? Things had been going so well…
Maybe she shouldn't have invited him to stay the night in the guest room? Had she been too forward, too presumptuous?
No, she decided as she remembered each and every thing they had said to each other there at the end, what she shouldn't have done was assume that his surprise was rejection. He'd even told her that he hadn't said no, so why had she tried so hard to put them back on a work-related superior-inferior footing, to push him away? Why hadn't she explained why she'd made the offer in the first place?
She dragged her feet as she left the kitchen, turning the light out after herself. Maybe her mother had been right all along: that she simply wasn't bright enough to attract and hold a man. Maybe Shaun had been a lucky fluke after all, that he'd decided not to let her social inadequacy stand in his way of what he wanted. Certainly Donna had never had any luck chasing after anything she wanted.
And now Ian had left, and her home felt empty again. It had felt lived in while he'd been there, it had felt alive. For such a short time, she'd been able to experience what it was like to be able to raise her voice to ask something and know there was someone there to answer her. Maybe he'd even cared a little; certainly the chicken noodle soup had been delicious, and his insistence on helping with the clean-up very gentlemanly. And he'd definitely taken care of her the night before, kept her safe from her bad strategies and then nursed her until she was back on her feet. People generally didn't do that for someone they didn't care for at least a little, did they?
As if mocking her, the short stack of flashcards with the Gallifreyan symbols stared up at her from the top of the bookcase. If nothing else, if she'd been using her head for something besides gathering cobwebs, she could have asked him to please make certain she'd remembered the meanings properly and maybe, maybe, given her a few more to work on. Perhaps she could even have convinced him to satisfy her curiosity as to what spoken Gallifreyan sounded like; he hadn't done that at all yet.
But no, she'd gone and chased him away with her insecurities and assumptions. Sunday loomed long and lonely, just the way she hated. After a day that had been filled with banter and companionship and conversations both trivial and difficult, all she had to look forward to for the next thirty-six hours was the silence of being alone. Again.
Was there any way for her to reclaim the rest of her weekend from her idiocy?
oOoOo
The Doctor turned off the motor and leaned back in his driver's seat, feeling tired and a little lost.
What the hell had happened? Had he said something wrong that Donna had suddenly pulled back into her shell? Had she thought that he was thinking that the offer was something other than what it had been – that he might take advantage of her? Should he have stayed a little longer, asked to her explain herself better? Had he told her too much too fast, made her question his sanity or uncertain of his intents? What could he have done differently?
For the life of him, as he reviewed their entire conversation over doing the dishes together, he couldn't see where he'd made his mistake – other than perhaps running away rather than staying and pushing to find out what exactly was going on in her head.
The day had gone better than he'd hoped, and he'd had the opportunity to get a glimpse of what an almost normal life could be like with someone as special as Donna Noble Temple. It had left him hungry for more, more time with her, more opportunities to know her better. He was so hungry for the companionship and comfort of being with another person who didn't see him as something outlandish that his heart almost ached.
The next day looked to be a long and empty one. Sometime in the morning, the store would deliver his furniture – furniture that would forever remind him of the fun he'd had with her in discussing the good and bad points of each choice. Would he ever be able to convince her to sit at the kitchen table she'd found for him, or let him serve her that Chicken Cordon Bleu?
Imagine a world that had never even heard of Chicken Cordon Bleu!
His shoulders slumped, he climbed out of the car and headed for the elevator door at the far end of the parking garage. He'd see Donna on Monday, and perhaps she'd let him apologize for whatever he'd done wrong.
Somehow, somehow, he had to find a way to fix things, to establish their relationship on firmer, more secure grounds – and as something other than merely Archivist and Archivist's Assistant.
Chap 1 Chap 2 Chap 3 Chap 4 Chap 5 Chap 6 Chap 7 Chap 8
“You didn’t have to do this,” Donna complained as the Doctor stubbornly took up the dish towel. “After all, you cooked…”
“And you're supposed to be resting,” he responded with his trademark impish grin. “I could argue that you should just sit back down and let me handle things.”
“I’m not totally incapable, you know…”
“I know that – never said you were. I’m just thinking that you could do with someone watching out for you for a change.”
“Something tells me that you could use that as well,” she said seriously, dropping the first soup bowl into the rinse and starting on the second. “This person you were supposed to be a companion for – what happened there?”
Oh, trust Donna to get to the meat of a problem. Her questions about Gallifrey and his role in the Time War had been gentle, but direct – leaving him little choice but to give her the unvarnished truth. In days past, he would have prevaricated, but her responses to his questions had been direct and unapologetic; he had owed her nothing less.
Even in the other universe, his Donna had asked hard questions about Rose. He found himself grateful that he’d had weeks to come to terms with the dissolution of their relationship before having to face such queries again. At least he didn’t have to leave this Donna with the notion that he was pining after someone else when he was with her.
“After the Cybermen, she found herself trapped here in this universe. She’d traveled with me for a couple of years and fancied herself in love with me for most of that time; and as a result, worked hard and long to figure out a way to get back across the Void.” He reached up to put both of the cleaned and dried bowls back into the cupboard. “The thing is, as I told you, time works differently here. For me, it only took a couple of years for her to find me; for her, it was closer to six and a half years. In that time, she had developed expectations of me based on fantasies and wishful thinking and long separation; and she herself had become someone I didn’t know anymore, someone who would jeopardize all of creation to satisfy her desires. After we returned to this universe, it didn't take long before we mutually agreed that being anything other than acquaintances was a bridge too far – especially after I made certain she couldn’t damage the multiverse again going looking for the other me.” He grimaced as the memory of the arguments and tantrums flashed by in his mind. “I – this me – has trapped her here very permanently now, and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for that one.”
When he finally got the courage to look into Donna’s face again, the Doctor found her staring at him with mouth open. A mere moment later, her mouth snapped shut again, and her face took on an expression of exasperation. “She’s a damned fool,” she commented heatedly. "She sounds childish and spoiled, and frankly you're well shed of her. You deserve better."
Now it was the Doctor’s turn to stare. Where had that come from? Was she defending him? “Thank you, I think…”
"But did you love her? Did she have a basis for her dreams?"
Ouch! Once more, Donna's ability to nail the crux of the matter caught him off-guard. "I was quite fond of her for a while. She met me not long after I'd regenerated the time before this one, and I was a mess at the time, angry that I'd survived…"
"Not long after that Time War you spoke of?" Her voice had softened, as if she knew now she was touching on a delicate topic for him.
"Yeah. Anyway, she helped me remember that there was still beauty in the universe, and taught me how to laugh and feel again. She did what I thought couldn't be done. I suppose I may have let her believe I felt something deeper than friendship, but it would have been because I wasn't in a place where such matters even registered with me at the time." He looked at Donna frankly. "She saved me, and I'll be eternally grateful to her for that. Without her, I would have seen to it that I didn't outlive my people by very long. She was the best friend I'd had in centuries, but… love her? Romantically? I don't know – and after what she did to get back to me, I realized that there was a part of her I didn't understand and couldn't accept."
"So it's possible that you did love her at one time."
"Weeellll…"
"But you don't now?"
"No." Of that he was certain. The animosity and cruelty Rose had heaped on him after he'd removed the Dimensional Cannon from her world couldn't be excused away. If what he'd felt for her had been love, she'd killed it. "I could never love someone who put their own desires over the welfare of the rest of creation, or who would take offense when I defended the rest of creation against her." He could only hope that he was making it perfectly clear that Rose was off his dance card. Permanently.
Which made room for Donna, if the two of them could make it work properly. The Doctor thought a silent prayer to the myriad deities he didn't believe in that he could accomplish that.
Donna was silent for a while, clearly mulling things over as her hands finished washing the pan that had held the soup. "That apartment of yours looks to be pretty new for you. How long have you been in this universe?"
That one was easy to answer. "About six months now." And anticipating her next question, he added, "I've had the apartment for the last month."
"Where were you staying before then?"
"At the Tyler mansion."
"Tyler – as in Pete Tyler, the head of Torchwood?"
"Yup." He popped the p.
"So Pete knows you're an alien."
"Half-alien, and yes." He slid the silverware drawer closed and leaned his hip against the counter, waiting for the pan to hit the rinse water. He debated, and then decided that putting the rest of the story out there could avert other, more difficult questions later on. "The woman I've been talking about is Rose Tyler, Pete's daughter."
"Ah." Donna's slow nod as she pulled the pan from the rinse and handed it to him told the Doctor that he'd made the right choice. She knew it all now. The time had come for him to find out if being open and transparent had accomplished what he'd hoped. "May I ask you a question?"
"Sure." The wash water was draining, and she was chasing bubbles as she cleaned up the sink.
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
A startled blue-green gaze immediately turned to him. "Why?"
"Weeelll… I have furniture being delivered, if you remember, and I was wondering if I could convince you to wait with me for it. I could get the supplies I needed, and make you that Chicken Cordon Bleu for dinner to say thank you afterwards…" He smiled at her hopefully.
"Surely you have more important things to do with your time after your stuff is delivered…" she started.
The Doctor put his hand on her forearm. "Donna, my weekends tend to be almost as bleak as yours, if truth be told. I usually do exactly what you accused me of earlier: I go into work and putter about the place, or else Jackie would insist that I come up to the mansion and spend time there. That wasn't too bad, as little Tony is a joy to be around; but running into Rose is never pleasant lately. Thing is, other than the Tylers, I've got nowhere else to go, no one else to be with. It's been hard for me to just socialize and make friends, because my life up to now is pretty hard to believe for most folks." Very deliberately, and watching closely, he moved his hand down until he could tangle his fingers with hers. "You're the first person I've been able to talk to – I mean really talk to – other than Pete and Rose and Jackie since I came here."
Donna's gaze had dropped to their joined hands, and now she blushed. "You're the first person I've talked to – really talked to – other than my therapist." She looked back up at him. "And you're the first person not to treat me as if I were made of soap bubbles ready to pop."
"Soooo…" The Doctor couldn't help but be caught in her gaze, couldn't help see the shy hope it held, couldn't help being struck by how similar their situation was. Both of them were supremely lonely and hurting, and had found solace in each other's company by simply having someone to talk to who didn't judge. He knew very well that he didn't want their time together to end at all, and that he'd do just about anything to extend it. Perhaps she felt the same way too… "What do you say? I could come pick you up in the morning and take you out to breakfast…"
"You could stay here," Donna suggested in a very soft voice. "I do have a guest room, you know." Her cheeks colored a little more. "I could make you breakfast, and we could make another day of it: wait for deliveries, arrange the furniture, go shopping and then dinner..."
"Donna…"
"Of course, if you don't think…" She hurriedly extracted her hand from his keeping, and from the way her blush deepened, he could tell she was embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"
The loss of her hand in his was almost painful, and the Doctor reached for her again instinctively. "I'm not saying no," he told her reproachfully. "I'm just… surprised…"
"I'm being too forward," Donna accused herself, turning away and drying her hands. "And you're my boss…"
"I'm not your boss. We both work for Torchwood."
"You manage the archive, and I'm just your assistant," Donna countered firmly. "You were kind enough to take care of me when I was being massively stupid, and I appreciate that. You don't need to worry about me anymore than you already have."
The Doctor sighed. For whatever reason, the sense of closeness and shared need had evaporated as if it had never existed. Maybe it hadn't, he considered with a mental sigh this time. Maybe he had just been dreaming that their relationship had moved from a simple workplace acquaintance to something a little more… meaningful. He shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I'll just be heading home, then. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Maybe we'll have the Chicken Cordon Bleu some other time…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out her keys. "Here, I should return these before I forget."
"Ian…"
"I'm glad you're feeling better," he said sadly. "I'll see you on Monday." He turned and headed for the front door before he could fall to the temptation to say anything else that he might regret, feeling as if he'd just fallen into a dark hole where dreams were born, only to perish before they could even draw breath.
Donna stared dumbly at the door that had closed so softly and finally behind Ian's fleeing form. What had happened? Things had been going so well…
Maybe she shouldn't have invited him to stay the night in the guest room? Had she been too forward, too presumptuous?
No, she decided as she remembered each and every thing they had said to each other there at the end, what she shouldn't have done was assume that his surprise was rejection. He'd even told her that he hadn't said no, so why had she tried so hard to put them back on a work-related superior-inferior footing, to push him away? Why hadn't she explained why she'd made the offer in the first place?
She dragged her feet as she left the kitchen, turning the light out after herself. Maybe her mother had been right all along: that she simply wasn't bright enough to attract and hold a man. Maybe Shaun had been a lucky fluke after all, that he'd decided not to let her social inadequacy stand in his way of what he wanted. Certainly Donna had never had any luck chasing after anything she wanted.
And now Ian had left, and her home felt empty again. It had felt lived in while he'd been there, it had felt alive. For such a short time, she'd been able to experience what it was like to be able to raise her voice to ask something and know there was someone there to answer her. Maybe he'd even cared a little; certainly the chicken noodle soup had been delicious, and his insistence on helping with the clean-up very gentlemanly. And he'd definitely taken care of her the night before, kept her safe from her bad strategies and then nursed her until she was back on her feet. People generally didn't do that for someone they didn't care for at least a little, did they?
As if mocking her, the short stack of flashcards with the Gallifreyan symbols stared up at her from the top of the bookcase. If nothing else, if she'd been using her head for something besides gathering cobwebs, she could have asked him to please make certain she'd remembered the meanings properly and maybe, maybe, given her a few more to work on. Perhaps she could even have convinced him to satisfy her curiosity as to what spoken Gallifreyan sounded like; he hadn't done that at all yet.
But no, she'd gone and chased him away with her insecurities and assumptions. Sunday loomed long and lonely, just the way she hated. After a day that had been filled with banter and companionship and conversations both trivial and difficult, all she had to look forward to for the next thirty-six hours was the silence of being alone. Again.
Was there any way for her to reclaim the rest of her weekend from her idiocy?
oOoOo
The Doctor turned off the motor and leaned back in his driver's seat, feeling tired and a little lost.
What the hell had happened? Had he said something wrong that Donna had suddenly pulled back into her shell? Had she thought that he was thinking that the offer was something other than what it had been – that he might take advantage of her? Should he have stayed a little longer, asked to her explain herself better? Had he told her too much too fast, made her question his sanity or uncertain of his intents? What could he have done differently?
For the life of him, as he reviewed their entire conversation over doing the dishes together, he couldn't see where he'd made his mistake – other than perhaps running away rather than staying and pushing to find out what exactly was going on in her head.
The day had gone better than he'd hoped, and he'd had the opportunity to get a glimpse of what an almost normal life could be like with someone as special as Donna Noble Temple. It had left him hungry for more, more time with her, more opportunities to know her better. He was so hungry for the companionship and comfort of being with another person who didn't see him as something outlandish that his heart almost ached.
The next day looked to be a long and empty one. Sometime in the morning, the store would deliver his furniture – furniture that would forever remind him of the fun he'd had with her in discussing the good and bad points of each choice. Would he ever be able to convince her to sit at the kitchen table she'd found for him, or let him serve her that Chicken Cordon Bleu?
Imagine a world that had never even heard of Chicken Cordon Bleu!
His shoulders slumped, he climbed out of the car and headed for the elevator door at the far end of the parking garage. He'd see Donna on Monday, and perhaps she'd let him apologize for whatever he'd done wrong.
Somehow, somehow, he had to find a way to fix things, to establish their relationship on firmer, more secure grounds – and as something other than merely Archivist and Archivist's Assistant.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-06-05 11:39 pm (UTC)This is so beautiful it burns! It's so perfectly them, so exquisitely slow building I think I was holding my breath. Moreeeeee pleeeeeeese!
no subject
Date: 2012-06-07 12:00 am (UTC)*is confused* but loving it!
no subject
Date: 2012-06-07 08:38 pm (UTC)This has to build slowly. Relationships don't just blossom overnight, especially with two people as damaged as these two. And you just gotta expect the occasional slip-up; the road to love is never smooth or straight.
Thanks for writing, glad you're enjoying this.
no subject
Date: 2012-06-07 08:43 pm (UTC)Yes, this is Handy/TenToo. Oooo! I just remembered that TenToo was a hand in a jar most of the time Ten spent with Donna. Oooooooops!! Ah well. I guess that just makes this AU in a few more ways than before, eh? Darn! Wish I'd thought about that earlier...
I suppose we could say that Handy/TenToo/Ian has the memory of time with Donna from Donna's contribution to the metacrisis. She could have given him a little more than the necessary DNA to put himself together a whole body - especially since she herself ended up with his mind. It makes sense (in a sort of way) that TenToo would have ended up with some of her mind...
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it... :-D
no subject
Date: 2012-06-08 01:07 pm (UTC)But I'm sure they'll work things out. Incidentally, I'm a huge Ten/Rose shipper and although I can see Rose as she was in JE being that bratty, I feel differently about her earlier on, and I'm absolutely certain he did love her. But a good story is a good story - I don't have to agree 100% with the writer to appreciate it!
no subject
Date: 2012-06-10 12:12 am (UTC)I do read 10/Rose, but I've always thought that Rose just missed a few too many times where stepping back, or using her head for something besides holding her ears apart would have made a HUGE difference both to the Doctor and to the way things went down. She showed so little maturity IMO... Rose/TenTwo stories are fun too, but many of them ignore the amount of issues that they'd both have to work through to really make a go of it.
But, like you say, we don't have to agree to appreciate well-written stories. Thanks for reading, and I'm glad you're enjoying it (despite it being clearly Doctor/Donna).