No Such Thing As Ghosts
Something I've been meaning to write for a while. I've seen lots of fics where Adric is haunting the TARDIS, and I like them. I also like fics with Donna. So I combined the two.
When Donna Noble was eight and a half, she’d moved house for the first time, and gone through a rather odd phase.
Every now and again, she’d get up, to go to the bathroom, or downstairs for a glass of water, but end up fleeing to her parents’ room, terrified, insisting that she’d seen a ghost (a girl with blond hair, curled up crying in the corner of the kitchen, or pacing on the landing).
At the time, she’d known it had been a ghost. There was nothing else it could have been. But eventually they moved house again, and it had stopped.
Over the years, she managed to persuade herself that she’d been dreaming. She stopped glancing over her shoulder every time she had to walk around her house at night. It was, after all, quite silly to be scared of something that didn’t exist (and there wasn’t any such thing as ghosts. The Doctor told her that, after she’d been traveling with him for what seemed like a few weeks, and he knew what he was talking about).
Then, one night in the TARDIS, while she was on the way from the bathroom to her own room, she felt a familiar sensation. She was suddenly sure that she was being watched, that there was someone behind her, and, for the first time in years, she glanced over her shoulder.
The corridor was empty. She told herself that she knew it was empty, that she hadn’t been expecting anything else, and strode back to her room.
She was not as confident as she felt. She didn’t sleep well that night.
After that, everything was normal (as normal was life in the TARDIS ever was) for a few more days. Then it happened again.
And this time, when she glanced behind her, she was sure she’d caught a glimpse of something moving.
She almost went to find the Doctor (she was sure he’d be up), but that would have been silly. She wasn’t eight and a half any more. She’d seen the universe. She knew it wasn’t a ghost. And whatever it was (if it was anything), if it was inside the TARDIS then it couldn’t be that dangerous.
Nevertheless, there was a falter in the step as she walked round the corner, where she thought it’d gone.
At first she thought the corridor was empty, and she was about to go back to bed, when she saw it moving again. There was quite definitely something there, and she would have gone to find the Doctor, if whatever it wasn’t hadn’t been yellow. Yellow, she thought, wasn’t a very dangerous colour. She took a step out into the corridor.
“Hello?” she called. “Is someone there?”
There was no answer, but then it moved again, and she thought, for a moment, that it had vanished, before realising that it had ducked around another corner.
“Hello?” she called, walking forwards again. “I can see you, you know.”
This time there was no response at all. She continued down the corridor towards the corner, determined to find out what it was. After all, she told herself, the chances are it was nothing (but she didn’t believe that. She knew she’d seem something).
She found herself standing not at a corner, but at a crossroads. The corner it’d turned was to her left. She realised that her heart was pounding, told herself that she was being silly, and made herself turn left.
And then her heart almost stopped.
She told herself that it couldn’t be a ghost. The Doctor had told her that there was no such thing. No, she told herself, it may look like a ghostly teenage boy, backed against a wall, but it wasn’t.
“Hello?” she said, not sounding as confident as she’d have liked.
“Hello,” he said. His voice sounded strange, she thought, like it was coming from a long way away. She noticed that she could quite definitely see the wall behind it. It wasn’t some trick of the light.
“I’m Donna.” She made herself say.
“I know who you are.” He said, and again his voice didn’t sound like it should. There seemed to be an echo there (are, are, are).
“How-” she began, and discovered that her throat had dried out. She swallowed. “How did you get in here?”
“I’ve been here longer than you have,” he said.
“Does the Doctor know you’re here?” she said.
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell him, thank you.” He relaxed slightly, stepping away from the wall.
“I think he should know.” She said. “It’s his ship. And you might be dangerous.”
“Oh, I’m not,” he said. “Trust me.”
“Why should I do that?” she said.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. The Doctor does.”
“I thought you said that he didn’t know you were here?” she said.
“He doesn’t,” said the boy. “But he trusted me when he did know I was here.”
“You’re not making any sense,” she snapped. “Look, just tell me who you are.”
“No,” he said. “I’m sorry. I would, but then you’ll tell him that I’m here. I don’t want him to know I’m here. I just want to be left alone.”
“I think he has a right to know if he has some stowaway-”
“I’m not a stowaway,” he said. “And I don’t think he’d want to know. He can’t see me. I’ve tried talking to him, but....” He trailed off. “I think he’s better off not knowing, to be honest.”
“How come I can see you if he can’t?” She said.
“I don’t know,” he said simply.
She didn’t answer. She found, to her irritation, that she did trust him. But she didn’t like being around him. She knew, she told herself, that he wasn’t a ghost, and that she shouldn’t think he was, despite the way she could see through him, and the strange echo to his voice, and the unnerving quality of his stare....
“What are you?” she said.
He thought for a while before answering. “I think you know,” he said. “Please don’t leave....” But she was already backing away. “I haven’t met anyone who could see me before.” He said.
“You’re a ghost,” she said. “Does that mean you’re dead? Cause it does. You’re dead. You’ve come back from the dead to haunt the Doctor and me. From beyond the grave. You’re going to try and kill us, aren’t you? Do you eat brains? Oh my God, are you going to eat my brains? Or are you after the Doctor? Cause he’s so clever? You’re not ‘aving his brains!”
By this point she was backed against the opposite wall. He stared at her. “Isn’t that zombies?” He said after a moment. “I’m not that familiar with earth stories, but-”
“If you come near the Doctor,” she said. “I’ll-”
“You can’t do anything do me.” He said. “I’m dead, remember? And I won’t go near the Doctor. You won’t see me again. I’ll stay on my own from now on. Happy now?” She hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Good.” He said, before turning and melting away into the shadows.
She glanced over her shoulder every time she left her room at night from then on. She couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. But she never saw him again, and she never mentioned the encounter to the Doctor. After all, she reasoned, whether he’d been telling the truth or not, it probably wouldn’t do any good. He’d just tell her she’d been dreaming, like her parents used to, and tell her once again that there was no such thing as ghosts.
When Donna Noble was eight and a half, she’d moved house for the first time, and gone through a rather odd phase.
Every now and again, she’d get up, to go to the bathroom, or downstairs for a glass of water, but end up fleeing to her parents’ room, terrified, insisting that she’d seen a ghost (a girl with blond hair, curled up crying in the corner of the kitchen, or pacing on the landing).
At the time, she’d known it had been a ghost. There was nothing else it could have been. But eventually they moved house again, and it had stopped.
Over the years, she managed to persuade herself that she’d been dreaming. She stopped glancing over her shoulder every time she had to walk around her house at night. It was, after all, quite silly to be scared of something that didn’t exist (and there wasn’t any such thing as ghosts. The Doctor told her that, after she’d been traveling with him for what seemed like a few weeks, and he knew what he was talking about).
Then, one night in the TARDIS, while she was on the way from the bathroom to her own room, she felt a familiar sensation. She was suddenly sure that she was being watched, that there was someone behind her, and, for the first time in years, she glanced over her shoulder.
The corridor was empty. She told herself that she knew it was empty, that she hadn’t been expecting anything else, and strode back to her room.
She was not as confident as she felt. She didn’t sleep well that night.
After that, everything was normal (as normal was life in the TARDIS ever was) for a few more days. Then it happened again.
And this time, when she glanced behind her, she was sure she’d caught a glimpse of something moving.
She almost went to find the Doctor (she was sure he’d be up), but that would have been silly. She wasn’t eight and a half any more. She’d seen the universe. She knew it wasn’t a ghost. And whatever it was (if it was anything), if it was inside the TARDIS then it couldn’t be that dangerous.
Nevertheless, there was a falter in the step as she walked round the corner, where she thought it’d gone.
At first she thought the corridor was empty, and she was about to go back to bed, when she saw it moving again. There was quite definitely something there, and she would have gone to find the Doctor, if whatever it wasn’t hadn’t been yellow. Yellow, she thought, wasn’t a very dangerous colour. She took a step out into the corridor.
“Hello?” she called. “Is someone there?”
There was no answer, but then it moved again, and she thought, for a moment, that it had vanished, before realising that it had ducked around another corner.
“Hello?” she called, walking forwards again. “I can see you, you know.”
This time there was no response at all. She continued down the corridor towards the corner, determined to find out what it was. After all, she told herself, the chances are it was nothing (but she didn’t believe that. She knew she’d seem something).
She found herself standing not at a corner, but at a crossroads. The corner it’d turned was to her left. She realised that her heart was pounding, told herself that she was being silly, and made herself turn left.
And then her heart almost stopped.
She told herself that it couldn’t be a ghost. The Doctor had told her that there was no such thing. No, she told herself, it may look like a ghostly teenage boy, backed against a wall, but it wasn’t.
“Hello?” she said, not sounding as confident as she’d have liked.
“Hello,” he said. His voice sounded strange, she thought, like it was coming from a long way away. She noticed that she could quite definitely see the wall behind it. It wasn’t some trick of the light.
“I’m Donna.” She made herself say.
“I know who you are.” He said, and again his voice didn’t sound like it should. There seemed to be an echo there (are, are, are).
“How-” she began, and discovered that her throat had dried out. She swallowed. “How did you get in here?”
“I’ve been here longer than you have,” he said.
“Does the Doctor know you’re here?” she said.
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell him, thank you.” He relaxed slightly, stepping away from the wall.
“I think he should know.” She said. “It’s his ship. And you might be dangerous.”
“Oh, I’m not,” he said. “Trust me.”
“Why should I do that?” she said.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. The Doctor does.”
“I thought you said that he didn’t know you were here?” she said.
“He doesn’t,” said the boy. “But he trusted me when he did know I was here.”
“You’re not making any sense,” she snapped. “Look, just tell me who you are.”
“No,” he said. “I’m sorry. I would, but then you’ll tell him that I’m here. I don’t want him to know I’m here. I just want to be left alone.”
“I think he has a right to know if he has some stowaway-”
“I’m not a stowaway,” he said. “And I don’t think he’d want to know. He can’t see me. I’ve tried talking to him, but....” He trailed off. “I think he’s better off not knowing, to be honest.”
“How come I can see you if he can’t?” She said.
“I don’t know,” he said simply.
She didn’t answer. She found, to her irritation, that she did trust him. But she didn’t like being around him. She knew, she told herself, that he wasn’t a ghost, and that she shouldn’t think he was, despite the way she could see through him, and the strange echo to his voice, and the unnerving quality of his stare....
“What are you?” she said.
He thought for a while before answering. “I think you know,” he said. “Please don’t leave....” But she was already backing away. “I haven’t met anyone who could see me before.” He said.
“You’re a ghost,” she said. “Does that mean you’re dead? Cause it does. You’re dead. You’ve come back from the dead to haunt the Doctor and me. From beyond the grave. You’re going to try and kill us, aren’t you? Do you eat brains? Oh my God, are you going to eat my brains? Or are you after the Doctor? Cause he’s so clever? You’re not ‘aving his brains!”
By this point she was backed against the opposite wall. He stared at her. “Isn’t that zombies?” He said after a moment. “I’m not that familiar with earth stories, but-”
“If you come near the Doctor,” she said. “I’ll-”
“You can’t do anything do me.” He said. “I’m dead, remember? And I won’t go near the Doctor. You won’t see me again. I’ll stay on my own from now on. Happy now?” She hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Good.” He said, before turning and melting away into the shadows.
She glanced over her shoulder every time she left her room at night from then on. She couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. But she never saw him again, and she never mentioned the encounter to the Doctor. After all, she reasoned, whether he’d been telling the truth or not, it probably wouldn’t do any good. He’d just tell her she’d been dreaming, like her parents used to, and tell her once again that there was no such thing as ghosts.