RP: Untitled; for marthajonesmd

[alwaysbrilliant]

Donna leaves the hotel feeling a mix of worry and relief. She doesn't know the way really, but by following the foot traffic, she soon wanders onto the Plass. She was a bit hard on the place the day before - sure it's a great, gaudy thing, but it's also rather impressive. And the fact that hidden somewhere below it lies a secret organization that

Comments

[metacrisised]

He stirs in bed, and then, suddenly, he's awake, everything searing his neural pathways, and he knows it's too late. He shouldn't have let Donna leave, not with Martha. The danger of triggering the cascade was too great - but he wanted her to be able to go out and have a good time without him looming over her shoulder. Now it seems it'll be his undoing

[alwaysbrilliant]

Donna gasps raggedly, quaking beneath the full force of the cascade. "Doctor," she moans, "please...."

And then he's there with her and she tries to concentrate on his presence, not wasting energy trying to talk. She reaches for him as though he were a life raft, grips, and takes hold of what he offers - squares of two? "Sixty four," she thinks automatically. "One twenty eight. Two fifty six. Five hundred and..." She cries out, mentally feeling his presence slip.

Memories bombard her from all sides. The Ood, the broken circle, their song. Agatha Christie, alone, abandoned, afraid. Madame de Pompadour, shining bright but pining for her love. Donna curls in on herself as the memories grow more unclear and painful. Holding a young woman as she dies, watching an even younger man die in front of her, knowing she can't stop it. And her home... burning.

[metacrisised]

"C'mon, Donna," he grits out through clenched teeth. "Five hundred and twelve. One thousand twenty-four. Two thousand forty-eight. Think of the numbers." He's doing all he can, but it still isn't enough. Every muscle in his body strains as he tries to take on more and more, drawing the light into himself until he's certain every cell in his body must be on fire. There won't be anything left of him but a pile of ash - but he's got to keep Donna alive.

[alwaysbrilliant]

Donna's pretty sure she's crying and she's almost certainly causing a scene in the bookstore. "Sorry, Doctor," she half sobs. "You probably won't be getting anything better to read now."

And then she remembers the other Doctor, the proper Doctor. But he's not that anymore, not to Donna anyway. The Doctor who's screaming for her to remember squares of two and tabloid headlines - he's her Doctor. And she's letting him down again.

Summoning strength she's sure she doesn't have, she takes back what she can of the light and expels it back into the Rift or the Void or what-the-Hell-ever it's called. And it's there, sagging into Martha Jones' embrace, clutching a copy of the biography of John Lennon, that Donna begins to realize why everyone seems to think she's so damned special.

[metacrisised]

"Donna," he cries out. He doesn't realise that he's sobbing till he feels the tears streaming down his face, scalding hot. All he ever wanted to do was save Donna, and he hasn't even managed to do that.

- And then, suddenly, the heat dissipates, leaving him alone in the cool darkness. He's not sure if he's dead or alive - but he can hear music in the background, and he's pretty sure that the afterlife doesn't have Lord of the Rings movies.

Martha tightens her grip, catching Donna as she sags. She's managed to get them into a fairly secluded corner and fend off all offers of help from innocent bystanders by explaining that she's a doctor. Donna's heartbeat slows to normal beneath her fingers, and she expels a breath she didn't know she was holding.

[alwaysbrilliant]

"Four thousand ninety-six," Donna murmurs softly, opening her eyes. "Martha?" Donna tilts her head to one side, frowning at the small forest of legs and feet surrounding them at a distance. "Why'm I on the floor?" She scoots herself into a more-respectable sprawl, dusting herself off. She levels a glare at the onlookers, hoping to frighten some of them off; only a few flee.

[marthajonesmd]

Martha lets go of her, giving her a relieved smile. "You sort of...passed out, I guess?" She furrows her brow for a moment. "Look, we'll find another book and go get some coffee, but then I want you to come back to the Hub with me so I can run tests, all right?" Martha pulls a badge out of her wallet, flashing it at the onlookers. "I'm with Torchwood. I've got everything under control here."

[alwaysbrilliant]

Donna fights to keep the panic out of her voice. "Tests? I, uh... can't." Oh, that's brilliant, she thinks. She wracks her brain for some excuse better than 'I'm allergic,' but comes up with none. So she decides on the truth - sort of. "See, it's the Doctor. He's not well, and I can't leave him alone for too long. That's probably why I, um, fainted." She continues in a very grave tone. "He's getting worse every day. That's why we're here - to find a cure." There, that was the truth without some of the stickier, grey matter-spattered bits.

[marthajonesmd]

"Yeah?" Martha frowns. "Well, I'd quite like to run tests on him, too." Not to mention that Donna sounds like he's lying, and she'd like to get to the bottom of it. "All right, Donna, what's really going on here? What sort of illness involves harnessing the power of a rift in space and time?"

[alwaysbrilliant]

She shrugs. "We don't really know." There - that wasn't a total lie since Donna really didn't know anything more than the highlights. So she stands up and starts to wing it. "He's just sort of... weak and dependent upon me." She hides a smirk behind a shelf of political thrillers. "But he thought the Rift energy would repair whatever was causing it." And that's not a lie, not really. Donna shrugs, smiling at Martha, patting her arm. "He's got it well in hand." That, of course, was the worst lie of all.

[marthajonesmd]

"That did not seem like well in hand," Martha points out. "Yesterday? Definitely not well in hand." She's starting to get a little irritated; Donna should know that she can trust her, of all people. Martha just wants to help. "And what about your memory, hmm? Look, Donna, if you don't want me to say anything to anybody else, I won't, but please, just tell me what's going on." Her dark brown eyes are full of concern, for both Donna and the Doctor. "I don't want anything to happen to either of you."

[alwaysbrilliant]

Donna grabs an extra-thick book from the history section, just wanting to escape the shop as soon as possible.

"Yes - well, you know how he is." She laughs weakly, hoping against hope he is always like that. "There's just a few more kinks that need worked out."

[marthajonesmd]

She gives Donna a pointed look. "Memories, Donna. What have you forgotten and why?" Martha's a bit like a dog with a bone - once she's got it, she's not going to let go, not for anything, and certainly not when the lives of her friends are on the line.

[alwaysbrilliant]

She shrugs, averting her eyes. "How am I supposed to know what I've forgotten." She sags and stops halfway down an aisle, turning toward Martha. She's not sure what she's supposed to say. "Look - something's happened, and I don't know what. All I know is I don't remember all this... stuff you do and when I start to, it... hurts." She shrugs. "The Doctor's working on it, and there's not much we can do until he's found the answer."

[marthajonesmd]

Martha sighs. "And you've forgotten people, too. The other Doctor, Rose, Jackie..." She hazards a guess. "Me and Jack?" She remembers a flash of confusion on Donna's face the previous day - it hadn't made sense at the time, but now all the puzzle pieces are beginning to fit together.

[alwaysbrilliant]

Donna's winces and nods. "Yeah - well, I suppose. I mean, it's hard to know what you've forgotten when you can't even recall it when you're faced with it." She sighs and sags a bit; this is really very hard. She can sympathize with how hard it must have been for the Doctor to answer her questions. "I'm sorry, Martha. Neither of us know what to do, but we've got to try everything." She shakes he head. "Neither of us knows how long we can last... the way we are."