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Now that's sorted, I just to say (excuses, excuses!) I have only seen the Sarah Jane Adventures twice, because it wasn't very good. That, and I have enough of a life that I don't go around watching children's TV all the time (cough). If some people out there do watch it, then you'll get why I mentioned it (and hopefully won't kill me for insulting you). Not that Sarah Jane is in this story, mind. I just... stole some plot. And warped it. To fit my story.

It also appears that I've been watching far too much Lost. That might worsen the surrealism situation a bit. It's gonna be weird. And it's gonna be LINEAR! Without jumpy bits! SURPRISE. Maybe my avoidance of time jumps is also Lost related... As might my liberal usage of... Deus Ex Machina. Gotta love a plot device.

I think I'm a geek. And have I mentioned how much I love Donna? She's so awesome to write. Catherine Tate ftw. SHUT UP AUTHOR'S NOTE!

Rating: T (Donna may or may not swear)

Spoilers: Oh, all the usuals... This is kind of AU. Ignore what's happened in series 4, pretty much. Flow with it. Roll with it.

Procrastination: Always.

Disclaimers: are for people who'll accept the answer "no".

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Chapter One: Termagant! - Run!

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"Cad."

"Harpy."

"Miscreant!"

"Harridan!"

"Reprobate!"

"Termagant!"

There's a pause.

"What?"

The Doctor smirks, full of childish self-regard. That'll teach her, she'll be wondering what a termagant is for days before she'll ask him.

"You, Donna Noble, are the biggest termagant I've ever seen."

Her facial expression falters into dangerously vulnerable territory. He'd feel a little bit guilty if she hadn't just called him a cad, a miscreant and a reprobate (though he doubts she actually knows what the last one means). And before that, heartlessly stolen several alien artefacts from a truly very lovely Roman psychic. She really is a nightmare to live with.

There's a small silence where they glare at each other testily, daring each other to make the next move, or not to. Weighing up whether or not it's worth it to be the bigger person. They both fidget, not breaking eye-contact as the tardis rumbles disapprovingly under their feet. Donna stamps at the shuddering, still full of petulant rage.

"Yeah, whatever. Next time you have something to say, say it to someone who cares, alright Martian boy?"

Wrapping her coat around her, she storms angrily from the tardis, red hair a fiery flurry about her broad shoulders as she she slams the door shut with a thud. He feels the ship wince and almost winces with her, turning to the central column and laying a hand on the console kindly. He didn't even get to call her a virago.

"I know, I know. We'll get back at her, don't you worry."

Turbines hiss menacingly at him and he grins. There's very little Donna can do in this situation. She's not going to leave him, because she's made it perfectly clear she isn't going back to her mum's until she's got something to show off about. And even if that weird Alien Rubix Cube thing is from Roman times, he gets the impression that her mum would just tell her to shut up and not be in the slightest bit impressed.

No, Donna will be back alright. She'll pop down to the pub, then come back in a couple of hours when she's jolly enough to risk her reputation by saying sorry.

His back turned, the Doctor hears the door to the tardis open creakily and his smile widens evilly. She didn't even bother going to the pub.

"Back to apologise?"

There's no reply, and he grins even more, still facing the console, staring at the screen in front of him, working out where to land in Ancient Rome so as to avoid himself and stay in walking distance of the clairvoyant's grotto.

He loves it when Donna wants to apologise and can't. It's always so endearing. He relents.

"Look, if you say sorry, I'll tell you what a termagant is."

There's still no reply, and he rolls his eyes, already entering in co-ordinates.

"Donna, you're really shooting yourself in the foot with this one. If you give me the relics, we can take them back to the psychic, and no-one will be any the wiser."

He's met once again with silence. He waits, hand resting on the lever that will send them spinning back through the vortex to whenever BC- she still has to eat her humble pie. He flicks round.

"But I'm not going until-"

The words die in his throat and he stops still, heart in his mouth, breath caught in shock and terror.

Oh no.

--

Termagant. Probably not even a word. It would be just like him to make up a word just to sound impressive. Yeah, that'll be it. English isn't even his first language!

She stomps down the road, away from the police box, too angry to notice the cold or the darkness. He's dropped them off in the middle of Winter, again. She decided he hates the summer a while ago. They always seem to end up in the snow capped mountains of the Ood Sphere, or January in the Soviet Union, or somebody's fridge (she still hasn't quite forgiven him for that one). It's not fair that he can just get away with it because he has a lower body temperature than her. That shouldn't be the way these things work, Goddamn it! She's the guest, after all, and she was taught that the guest always gets what they want, even if they want to go to a pre-excavated diamond mine in primeval Sierra Leone.

Fingering the stolen wooden box in her pocket, Donna turns back and glares at the tardis, who's obviously going to be on his side, because she always is, even when Donna's right and the Doctor's being a total... plonker.

She could swear sometimes that that ship fancies him or something. It's the only logical explanation as to why it would be so bloody devoted to him, especially when she's seen him smashing the controls with a hammer.

Well, you know, either that or because they're both the last remaining precious vestiges of Galli-whatsit. One of the two.

Stubbornly pushing all thoughts of the Doctor away, Donna looks up the road, miraculously knowing exactly where she is. She's not that far from home, actually, or her local. So she can just go and have a drink, visit Granddad, wait 'till morning with him and then sell off the Roman thing to that Torchwood place. They'll take any old rubbish nowadays. And when she goes back to the tardis the Doctor'll be so happy she's back that he'll just forget that she nicked the box from that old fraud of a psychic (Something on her back? Honestly...).

It's a neat enough theory, anyway.

Pleased with herself, she starts strutting up the road, coat still drawn around herself like a fur mantle. Would it be childish to stick a finger up at the tardis? Or to poke out her tongue? She decides not to care.

Nose turned up, she looks around, but there's nothing there.

What?

She narrows her eyes, sure she didn't hear the sound of the dematerialising police box. He must have hidden it somewhere, manually, to scare her. And he must have done it really, really fast. And completely silently.

She'd be impressed if it wasn't so worried.

"Doctor?"

An owl hoots ironically in response and flutters from a tree, but no Time Lord emerges. She pulls her coat against her that much tighter.

"Doctor, it's not funny, there's nothing funny-"

But the thought's cut off, suddenly, when someone's garden explodes.

There's a loud bang and a flash of light at the end of a driveway, and Donna nearly cries out in fear, swallowing the noise in place of a little hum of shock. already pounding heart beating loud enough in her ears that she's sure a passing stranger could hear the noise from inside her chest.

Run. Run away, turn back, head in the complete opposite direction. Seriously, anything but have a look. Just run.

As if.

Venturing forwards, Donna stares fearfully through the smoke, praying it's just the Doctor playing practical joke.

"Hello?"

She hears a noise like cold water hitting a hot pan, and her eyes widen.

"Excuse me? Are you alright?"

There's a pause, and then a figure, a feminine figure, she notes bemusedly, comes tumbling through the smoke, spluttering and... laughing?

"Hello?" Donna falters, waving her hands about to try and clear the smoke as the figure comes closer, still chuckling in the polluted air. "You okay?"

The laugh turns to a cough, and hands grapple at a half blind Donna, barely able to see through the smoke. Oh God.

"Look, are you alright, I can't-"

She's interrupted by a hacking cough and a rambling splutter of wheezy words.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm..."

A blonde girl bursts through the slowly settling ashes, stumbling and giggling and luckily not remotely scary. Her clothes are singed, like she's just escaped from an overzealous chef who attempted to turn her into some kind of human brulée, and she's carrying what appears like a fire extinguisher, but more... sci-fi. She looks up at Donna and grins, and the older woman isn't actually sure she's ever seen anyone look quite this happy.

Well, good on her, even if this is a bit weird.

The girl looks Donna in the eye, and it's only then that she notices that her temple's bleeding. She lifts a hand up to her hairline, feeling the slow, syrupy droplet snaking down the side of her face. She wipes it hastily with the back of her hand, then goes back to smiling.

"I'm fine, I was... I was there, and now I'm here."

Donna grins uncertainly, purely because it's infectious. Something in her automatically likes this stranger with a fire extinguisher. Or, well, this not quite stranger. Possibly.

"Right then. Is that surprising?"

The girl's smile widens even more, if that's possible, and she shrugs knowingly, a laugh in her voice.

"It's impossible."

Donna's not quite sure what to ask. "And that's a good thing?"

The girl just grins, and Donna raises her eyebrows in return, waiting for the girl to elaborate, when abruptly she hears a loud yelp and the fast approaching sound of footsteps. She whips round, still full of nervous energy, just in time to see the shadowy figure of a hurried man tear down the road, running as fast as his legs will carry him. They both stare as he rips past, his breathing fractured in the night air, terrified. Something's wrong.

And the Doctor is curiously absent. Which she's still worried about, FYI.

Donna turns back to the girl, suspicious, adding the pieces together. "What's going on?"

The smile she's greeted with is half way between smug and weary. Donna starts to lose her patience. It's probably just nerves.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Right?" Donna asks incredulously, knowing full well she'll believe almost anything nowadays. "I think you've probably found the only person- well, the only human being- in this universe who'll quite literally believe whatever you say, so long as it's got aliens in it. Or time. Or something to do with space."

There's a pause while the smile fades, replaced with something else. Something Donna's definitely ready to question, even if she's not the one holding... an ice gun?

"So who are you? How did you get here? I've seen all sorts, so don't even bother lying."

There is nothing but their breathing in the darkness, coming out in little puffs of condensation, and... shouts? In the distance? Can she hear shouting?

They both look down the street towards Chiswick High Road. The lights have gone out, leaving only the ghostly glow of the moonlight and the faint glow of what might be a fire at the end of the road. Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear.

Their gazes return to one another, and Donna wishes quite desperately that the Doctor was here. She's quite literally getting more and more worried by the second by this, and it appears the girl is almost as apprehensive. Donna repeats her question as they talk over each other.

"What's going on?"

"Where am I?"

Neither responds as the crystal clear sound of the smashing window rings out, and burglar alarms begin to wail.

They look at each either, both on edge. Both knowing what must be done. They talk over each other again, but luckily, they agree this time.

"Run!"

--

Intrigued? I do know where I'm going with this, don't worry... Only 11 Chapters to go!

Review for me, won't you? Be a good... Well, lass, most likely. Or lad! I was never one for sexual discrimination...