5x11: Sixpence in Her Shoe
5x11: Sixpence in Her Shoe
(London, Earth, 2009)
"Is it normal to be more terrified on your wedding day than when you think you might have to blow up the Earth?" Martha asks, scrutinizing herself in the mirror. It all looks fine, and the dress fits right, and her hair is behaving itself.
"Yes," Gwen says in answer to her question, just as Tish says, "No."
Martha laughs. "I thought so. Right." She turns from the mirror. "All good?"
"You look lovely," Gwen assures her. "Now, any horrible second thoughts? Any horrible aliens? No? Then you're good."
"Yeah, course," Martha says, taking a deep breath. "Is everyone here? Oh my God I've got butterflies."
"Shut up and let me be properly jealous," Tish advises. "Nearly everyone. Haven't seen the Doctor yet."
"Well, he's not the sort to enjoy weddings, and he does have --" Martha pauses. She hasn't actually told her family the Master's back; she can hardly imagine them taking it calmly. "-- a busy life," she supplies. "Besides, I'm not getting married to prove anything to him." She squares her shoulders. "Ready."
Tish squeals with delight and gives Martha a hug. "I'll fetch Dad," she says, and darts from the room.
Gwen gives Martha a wry little smile. "No Donna, then?"
"Haven't heard from her since I saw her last," Martha says, shrugging and trying very hard not to mind. "It's all right, she can't have known. Oh my God!" this last because the music is starting up, and Gwen shoos her out into the front hall where Dad's waiting, looking incredibly happy and quite dapper in his suit. Martha latches onto his arm, the doors swing open, and she walks.
They've just rented out a little local church for the afternoon, chapel and reception, so it's not as though Martha wasn't expecting all the pews to be jammed full of grinning people, but the whole thing is a bit overwhelming. Martha finds herself wishing a bit that the entire back row of guests would turn out to be horrible carnivorous aliens in disguise, because at least then she'd know what she was doing. Instead she grips tight to Dad's arm and looks up at the altar: Tom, standing there, actually clean-shaven for once, and even from all the way across the room the look he gives her is half loving wonder, half God I wish there were horrible carnivorous aliens in disguise in the back row, and everything just slots neatly into place. Martha breaks into a beaming grin.
The grin doesn't leave for the next good while; her cheeks start to ache, and Tom is wonderful, and those are more or less the only facts Martha manages to keep straight. The ceremony goes by in a blur, with rings and recitations and Martha's fairly sure at some point she says I do, because Tom's hands are on the small of her back and her arms are flung round his neck and they're kissing in front of a whole roomful of people.
Out in the reception hall, Martha endures hugs from relatives and friends and in-laws (God help her in-laws) and Leo's smirking "Better me than you, mate," until Martha gives the DJ pleading eyes and she has a dance with Dad, a dance with Tom, a dance with Jack. "You couldn't have worn something besides that mad army jacket?" Martha demands as he twirls her, and he says with a laugh, "These are my best clothes, Dr Jones!"
Another dance with Tom -- Martha's too happy and full of adrenaline still to be slipping off the dance floor and doing something soppy like feeding Tom cake -- and then at a tap on her shoulder Martha turns against someone skinny in a well-cut tux and gapes up at the Doctor, who beams down at her.
"You made it!" Martha exclaims, and flings her arms around him. He laughs, picking her up and spinning her around before setting her back on the ground and saying, "I saw this really great-looking cake over there, all uneaten because apparently the bride's having too much fun out here ..."
"Fine, fine," Martha says, laughing, and lets herself be dragged off to be soppy about the cake with Tom. Before long Tom and the Doctor are chatting away very earnestly about alien physiology and Martha manages to slip off into the corridor for a moment to just take a few deep breaths and try not to burst into tears of happiness or something equally mad.
Problem is, the corridor's not empty: there's a girl sitting a little ways down against the wall, wearing a very nice shimmering blue dress and holding a silver shoe in her hand, glaring at it. "Er," Martha says, "'scuse me, can I help you?"
The girl looks up and Martha adds, quite without meaning to, "Oh my God when I thought aliens I didn't ask for oh my God Jenny!"
"Hi!" Jenny says. "Yes, I'm not dead. I haven't figured out the point of heeled shoes, though. They won't be much use if you have to run, will they? I came with Donna, she's just popped off to the loo."
"Oh," Martha says faintly. "Yeah, okay. Er, Jenny, do you know -- you do know the Doctor's in there? Just inside reception?"
"Really?" Jenny jumps to her (bare) feet. She looks shifty for a moment, then says earnestly, "The ceremony was beautiful, and I love cake. I'm very happy for you, Martha," and slips past her back into reception.
"No, wait --" Martha tries, but the door's already swung closed. Well. She was hoping her wedding would be interesting.
***
Donna and Jenny had been visiting Mum and Gramps, Jenny reading the sports section with fascination and Donna just sort of skimming the announcements, when she saw the notice for Tom and Martha's wedding yesterday afternoon. So they'd gone two days back for a day out shopping in London, and then dropped in on the wedding.
Problem is, Donna didn't take into account how she feels about weddings. So here she is in the loo, splashing water on her face and giving her reflection a glare. Bad enough that her own wedding didn't go off so well, all the bits of the Doctor in her head are less than fond of weddings too. She sighs, straightens her shoulders, and pushes back out into the corridor.
She's not expecting Martha to be standing there, staring in some astonishment at the door back into reception. Martha spots Donna at once, and far from looking surprised, says, "Oh thank God. Donna, Jenny just went in there to look for the Doctor."
"Of course she did," Donna says. "That's just great. Hurry up, then, let's go catch her before the Doctor realises he'll really have to find something else to be sad about than being the last of his kind."
Martha darts her a wry look. "Being part him suits you," she says.
"Yeah, well, I only got the good bits," Donna returns. "C'mon."
Belatedly she realises that Jenny is going to lead to a lot of questions, but so is she. Nothing for it, though: she spots the Doctor lurking near the buffet table clutching protectively at a cup of punch, and a moment later Martha's left her side, presumably having located Jenny. Donna hurries over, seizes the Doctor's wrist, and before he can protest has dragged him into a corner and said, "We need to talk."
To her astonishment, rather than demanding a full explanation for her appearance the Doctor contrives to look remarkably shifty and say, "Do we?"
She stares at him. "All right, what've you done?"
"Nothing!" he says, and "Hang on, Donna! Where have you been? What's going on?"
"Long story," Donna replies firmly, "which will come after the one you're gonna tell first." She lowers her voice a little, not that anyone's listening. "How's it been?"
"Fine! Fine, it's been, it's --" The Doctor takes a deep breath and won't actually meet her eyes. "He hasn't really tried escaping or destroying civilisations yet, which is probably a good sign. Anyway when he died on me that was mostly a -- a fit of pique, a temper tantrum, I don't think he really minds life in the TARDIS ..." He trails off under Donna's look. "What?"
"Want me to give you a list of things he's done?" Donna asks. "People and planets destroyed? I mean, you have to give him credit, it's a pretty impressive résumé of evil." She smiles tightly. "But you know all that, if I do. Thing is, Doctor, I know it objectively."
The Doctor nods, eyes still firmly fixed on his trainers.
Donna sighs. "Listen," she says, "I won't -- Doctor. Look at me. Right here, only other person in the universe you can actually talk to about this, so talk to me."
He does look up at her then, warily. "I ... may have made a bit of a mistake," he admits after a moment. "I may have actually told him it's personal. Well. Not told, precisely, more ... shown." He looks honestly embarrassed.
Donna sorts through this, and decides that it's personal means the Doctor let the Master know it's specifically the Master who is important, which any blind idiot should be able to see despite both of them pretending otherwise for centuries; shown not told, on the other hand, probably doesn't mean the Doctor got his feelings out via metaphoric poetry.
"Does everyone have a space boyfriend except me?" Donna demands, before the implications catch up with her and her eyes go very wide. "My god, what are you going to do?"
The Doctor shrugs slightly. "I won't forget what he's capable of. I'll keep him around, and I'll ... make sure he doesn't get into trouble, that was the plan either way."
"Right." Donna sighs. "Okay, ready for the next shock?"
"Always," the Doctor says, with a wry smile.
"Well." Donna bites her lip for a moment, giving him a good long look. She took Jenny in stride, though, and she's processing the idea of the Doctor and the Master shagging well enough, although she suspects that as soon as she gets a minute to herself all those memories in her brain are going to file out and give a dissertation on what a spectacularly bad idea it is, and how statistically likely to result in a body count. For the moment she says, quite calmly, "Jenny's not dead."
The Doctor goes very still. "Jenny. But she -- it was just a regular bullet, it shouldn't have delayed regeneration --"
"Tell that to her," Donna says. "Come on, she's here. I think she's telling Martha about the time she stopped a nuclear war. It's one of her favourites."
"She what?" the Doctor demands, trailing helplessly after Donna.
They find Jenny and Martha to one side of the dance floor, Jenny chatting away animatedly. She catches sight of the Doctor and comes to an abrupt stop. Martha looks wary. Donna elbows the Doctor.
"Hi," the Doctor offers.
Jenny smiles tentatively. "Hi, Dad."
The Doctor takes a hesitant step forward, and then they're hugging enthusiastically and smiling nearly to split their faces and the Doctor says, "How?" and Jenny shrugs and says, "I still have no idea," and she's off, explaining what she's been doing. The Doctor listens raptly, beaming.
Martha edges over to Donna. "Do you get the feeling," she says, "that something's just bound to happen now? Something really weird?"
"Yeah, about that," Donna says, and briefly debates trying to explain the pulling coincidences and the interconnectedness of time before she settles for, "It would be a lot weirder if something weird didn't happen, and I'm really sorry, just sort of ahead of time, really sorry it's at your wedding. Cos now we've met up with the Doctor again ..."
"Don't worry." Martha gives her a wry look. "Half the people here are Torchwood or family. It'll be old hat, and for the rest we've got Retcon."
Donna snorts. "You seriously brought memory drugs to your own wedding, just in case?"
"Happened at Gwen's," Martha says philosophically.
"So how is it, then, being married?" Donna asks.
Martha looks all set to say it's the best thing that's ever happened to her when a chorus of screams erupts from the corridor. A good portion of the guests start towards the noise, which seems to prove Martha's point; the Doctor naturally gets there first, with Donna just after him.
A trio of girls on their way back from the loo are pressed against the corridor wall in terror, although they're being completely ignored by the huge ant-shaped creatures, armor-carapaced and holding complicated energy weapons. They're swarming around the vending machine at the end of the corridor, and Donna's stomach gives a lurch of terror.
"What are they --?" The Doctor turns to Donna in bewilderment. "Do they want snacks?"
"No," Donna says dully. "Doctor, that's my --"
The ant aliens point their energy weapons at the vending machine and, as one, fire. Donna feels it power down and her one small human heart sinks horribly, and then further as she realises the implications. Without consultation she seizes the Doctor's hand and drags him back through the door. "Jack!" she calls, looking around; he turns up at her shoulder and she says, "Aliens, armed, have Torchwood take care of it," and drags the protesting Doctor back across the room and into a coat closet.
The door slams shut and leaves them in the muffled dark. The Doctor shakes Donna's hand off. "What's going on?" he demands.
Donna takes a deep breath and says, as calmly as possible, "That vending machine is -- was -- my TARDIS, those aliens had the technology to track down a Type 80 and incapacitate it, which means they're allied with the Daleks; they're probably going to try destroying us next which is why we're letting Torchwood deal with it, and I think the beach ball just burst."
She can feel the Doctor staring at her through the dark.
"You have a TARDIS," he says flatly.
"Had," Donna corrects, and has to press the back of her hand to her mouth for a moment to keep from crying. "They took down her defenses."
"A TARDIS," the Doctor repeats. "That you have. Had. Creatures allied with Daleks, and you -- what beach ball?"
Donna gives a watery chuckle. "'s how I explained the Time War's lock to Jenny. You know how Caan punched a hole through? I think it's getting bigger."
"But I can't -- I can't sense any other Time Lords," the Doctor says, with an edge of desperation. "It's over, Donna."
"It isn't," Donna corrects gently. "Doctor, a few weeks ago I met Romana. In the Citadel. Just at the beginning of the War."
The Doctor doesn't ask why she didn't tell him. He just sits still for a bit, working it out. "So those coincidences," he says at last, "they lead to you influencing the Time War." She can see him dimly now through the chinks of light that filter in from the reception room. He swallows. "It's -- Donna, do you know how dangerous -- I can't be involved, I might disrupt the whole -- I might create a giant paradox --"
"Or you might have gone right around that fixed event, the first time through," Donna says gently. "I wanted to keep you out, honestly I did, but here you are. And here I am. And the Master, and Jenny."
"Yeah," the Doctor says, and shudders. "Donna. I don't want to."
She reaches out and takes his hand, rubs her thumb over the bony knuckles. "I know." She doesn't suggest it might be worth it to make a difference; he's already made a difference, made worlds of them, and asking him to play the War again, knowing the outcome might be terrible, is unnecessarily cruel. "But if my TARDIS is still alive, she's definitely not working, and I can't stay here. I have to get back, and you're the only way now."
He nods. He says: "I don't want to do that to Jenny. I can't believe you were doing that to Jenny."
"She wanted to," Donna says. "Her idea."
"She's a kid," the Doctor protests.
"She's an important kid," Donna counters. "I know, Doctor, and I know you just say you're a traveler, and I know that you don't want to do this, but it's important, it's more important than anything --"
"I know," the Doctor says. Hisses out a breath between his teeth. "And the Master needs to be there too. Donna, this isn't inspiring me with confidence."
Donna's mouth twists into a reluctant smile. "I know," she echoes. "But I think we've got to." The commotion outside is dying down, so she opens the closet door cautiously.
"That's where you got to!" Martha says, coming over at once. Her wedding dress is torn at the hem and she looks quite pleased. "Those bug things are taken care of, and Jack's serving the drinks, so we'll be all right in an hour."
"I don't think we can stay," Donna apologises. "Worlds to save, that sort of thing."
She leaves the Doctor to explain this and to collect Jenny, and goes out into the corridor. Mickey and Ianto look up from bagging the ant aliens to give her nods, and she smiles back at them, although it feels more like a grimace. She goes over to her TARDIS, slips inside, and shudders: no response. All lights are off. It just sits there, a nonworking machine, and she wants to cry again.
She hears the Doctor come in behind her. After a moment he slides a hand around her shoulders, and Jenny steps up on the other side and slips her hand into Donna's, squeezing lightly. They stay standing there for a long moment. Donna doesn't ask if she can be fixed.
"Right," she says finally. "Let's go." Swallows. "I can navigate us back to Gallifrey even with your TARDIS, Doctor."
They leave the church together, the three of them holding hands, and walk up the street through the overcast day to the Doctor's TARDIS. Donna's heart lifts a little, a song in her head rising to greet her. Inside, the Doctor immediately retreats, presumably to find the Master and explain the situation. Jenny stays in the console room with Donna, helping her type in the coordinates and navigate out into the Vortex.
(The Vortex)
The trip to Gallifrey is, relatively, a long one, so Donna leaves Jenny monitoring their flight and wanders down to the library. She discovers a neat pile of books on one table, which means it must be the Master's reading material. She goes through it, snorting softly at the annotations, and sets the current book aside carefully when she hears someone step into the room behind her.
"As evil goes it's sort of petty," she says, turning.
"How nice to see you again at last, Miss Noble," the Master counters, leaning against the door frame. "I don't suppose you actually know what you're doing."
"Pot, kettle," Donna says. "Right now I'd say I'm doing a much better job making the Doctor's life miserable than you are."
"You're probably right," the Master agrees, and smiles slowly.
"Yeah." Donna feels suddenly a bit funny about the whole thing; if this man was the typical sketchy boyfriend, she'd just give him the speech wherein she makes very clear that said boyfriend keeping his own testicles is strongly reliant upon him treating her mate right. Somehow she suspects that isn't the worst threat the Master's ever received, and moreover that he really isn't the typical sketchy boyfriend. She sighs. "I'm not going to tell you to treat him properly, but you've got his attention now, so don't start trying to take over planets as, I dunno, foreplay."
He gives her a somewhat astonished look. All he says, though, is "You're a good deal blunter than he is."
Donna shrugs. "I've got his memories, not his hang-ups. Honestly I think you're a bit rubbish."
The Master laughs. "And I think you're a petty pale imitation as well as ludicrously easy to kill. How nice for us."
"So," Donna says, ignoring this, "planning to run again this time?"
"Possibly," the Master concedes. "I do so enjoy staying alive."
"At least you have a few spares."
He laughs again, says "Very true" and grabs white-knuckled at the door lintel as the TARDIS gives a lurch. "Transduction barrier?"
"Yeah." She pushes past him and runs up the stairs. When she arrives in the console room Jenny's still there along with the Doctor, and the Master comes in a moment later. Between the four of them they manage to navigate the TARDIS in for a smooth landing; something about the mechanics of this niggles at Donna's brain, but she's too busy worrying about landing procedures to figure out quite what.
Then they've landed in the Citadel on Gallifrey. No going back now.
They take a nearly collective breath, and turn towards the door, to head ever faster toward that one fixed point in time.
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