Eyrie Productions, Unlimited - FI: Per Aspera Ex Umbra

At the sound of the doorbell, Wilfred Mott sighed, folded his paper, put it down, and rose from the chair. Muttering a bit, he called out, "I've got it," as he approached the front door.

He opened to a fascinating sight: three people he didn't know, two men and a woman, all of them looking rather serious. The one in front, dark-haired, square-shouldered and bespectacled, inquired, "Is this the residence of Donna Noble?"

Wilfred regarded them, then summoned up his pugnacity and replied, "Who want to know, then?"

The three broke into smiles, and then the first offered his hand. "I'm Don Griffin, this is Romana and this is the Master. We're friends of the Doctor."

The other man, with close-cropped blond hair, broke into a somewhat manic smile and added, "Or arch-enemies (or perhaps bromantic nemeses might be better) who are somewhat done with that thing!"

The woman sighed. "Yes, thank you, Master." Then she returned her attention to Wilf. "Might we come in? We have some business with Donna, but we should probably talk it through with you first."

"Rassilon's teeth, I love early twenty-first century England," the Master said as they entered, "most civilized lot I've ever met. The Trakenites were generally nicer, but here they've got tea."

Settled around the table, with tea and cakes, Don began. "I'm not sure how much you know about Donna's travels with the Doctor --"

"I know enough that if she sees him again, her mind will burn right out of her head!" Wilf shook his head. "She was so much more when she travelled with him, and now... she sleeps a lot and just goes through her day, barely interested. It's like he sucked all the enjoyment out of her when he... did what he did." He rubbed his face, tiredly, then went on. "I sometimes think it might be worth finding him, even if it kills her. She's not living, just... going on. It's not right. Not fair at all. So not fair."

The young woman - Romana, he remembered - laid one hand on his arm. "We think so too. And we've worked out why this all happened as it did. And how to fix it. How to bring her back to life."

The Master tapped the table, a little four-beat drumming, thump-thump-thump-thump. "See? I told you!"

Don nodded, smiling a bit more broadly. "Well, we're pretty sure we can. See, the thing is that the Time Lords - the Doctor's people, our people," he added, gesturing around the table, "aren't that alien. Their ancestors were basically human. Hell, I was human once, I'm from Maine, not outer space."

Don paused for the barest of instants, then went on as though his colleague hadn't spoken, "So it's possible for a person from Earth to become a Time Lord, just... not easy. It has to be done carefully. There's a lot of preparation involved. A factory-standard human body's just not up to the challenge. The problem is, what happened to Donna was accidental. She wasn't properly prepared. All the, the knowledge, and cosmic sensitivity, and, and stuff that comes with being a Time Lord was just sort of rammed into her head - into her unaugmented human brain... which simply couldn't hold it."

The old man frowned. "Are you saying she's not smart enough to... " he began, but Don shook his head vigorously.

"No no no," he said quickly. "No. That's not what I'm saying at all. It's not a matter of intellect, it's not a value judgment, it's physical reality. Like putting too much current through a wire. It heats up, it melts, the machine stops. Like that, only... " He tapped the first two fingers of his left hand against his forehead. "... inside her head."

"What the Doctor told you at the time was correct," Romana put in. "Left that way, it would've killed her."

"As far as the Doctor knew, there was no way to correct that situation after the fact," Don went on. "The normal preparation wouldn't have helped at that point. It'd be like trying to put a foundation under a building while it's collapsing. That's why he felt he had to do what he did. But one of our colleagues... begs to differ."

"Our colleague believes she's found a way to complete Donna's... conversion, if you like," Romana explained. "So that reawakening her memories - what you might call her true self - would be safe for her."

Wilf looked around the table, from Time Lord to Time Lord, his expression one of faint wonder. "Four of you for Donna. What makes her so special?"

Romana looked momentarily solemn; the Master smirked a bit. Don glanced thoughtfully at Romana, and seemed to be about to speak before she beat him to it:

"She saved the Doctor's life, kept him moving forward at a critical time, and in doing so ensured that our colleague's life's work wouldn't come to nothing. She considers that a debt worth running any risk to repay."

"There's a small chance that she'll be killed in the attempt," the Master said, as if it weren't that important. "Our colleague, not Donna," he hastened to point out. "If it goes wrong, chances are she'll be no worse off than she is now." At Wilf's vaguely horrified expression, the Master went on, "Don't look at me like that, you don't know this woman. There's just no talking her out of anything when she gets like this." He grinned. "It's really quite adorable. Anyway, she'll be fine. The odds of complete failure are really quite small. No more than three - "

"In the interest of full disclosure," Romana overrode him, "I should note that it will make her... not entirely human. Initially, she'll seem the same, but at some point in the future, she'll change. She'll keep all her memories, but there's a chance she may not look the same, or even act entirely the same."

"Ah. She'll be like the Doctor," Wilf said. "He does this thing where instead of dying, he changes. He told me about it once."

Romana nodded. "It's a Time Lord trait. Some of us can control it., others not so much. There's no telling until the first time it happens."

Wilf took that on board, then said, "Well... the Doctor's one of the best men I know, and if that happens to her, well, I supposed I'll deal with it. Unless I'm dead first, in which case it won't matter."

Before anyone could speak to that, all four turned as footsteps came down the stairs.

None of the three Time Lords at Wilf's dining table had ever seen Donna Noble in person before, but they'd all reviewed bits of the Doctor's TARDIS's sensor logs that featured her, and she hadn't borne much resemblance to the woman who regarded them from the doorway now. There was little lustre in Donna's auburn hair, or in her eyes, and her voice lacked that crackle of energy that it had always featured in the records.

"Hello, Donna," Romana said, rising. "We're... friends of a friend you don't remember." She offered her hand. "My name is Romanadvoratrelundar, but my friends call me Romana."

Donna took the hand in a perfunctory grip, looking at her. "Wot's that, Russian or something? I could go for some tea." As if on cue, the Master handed her a cup of tea. As he did, Don rose and eased up alongside her. After a sip, Donna blinked twice, then her eyes closed and she slumped into Don's arms.

"Telepathic suggestion," Romana said. "Nice! I didn't even see you dose the tea."

"She has to be unconscious for what happens next," Don explained gently. "She can't know what's happening until it's over, not without her brain going up like an overloaded fusebox. So the Master gave her a little something to help her sleep." Then he thought. "Want to come along? You can make sure we're not up to anything terribly untoward."

The next thing Wilf knew, he was escorted towards a soda machine that turned out to be like the Doctor's device, down several corridors, and into an observation room with comfortable seats and a tea service. In the clean white room on the other side of the window, Donna lay on a table, from the ceiling above which protruded a number of what appeared to be antennae. Two women - one blonde, one redhead - sat in chairs on one side of Donna, so they were all facing the big window.

"Well, you know Romana, and the other is our aforementioned colleague: Professor Rose Tyler."

Wilf blinked a few times. "I know that name. She... she was with the Doctor. Before Donna was. He talked about her a lot. But she was... lost or summat."

Don smiled. "She found her way back. It's what she does. But here's the thing: He was only here for her to find because of Donna. So now she's paying it forward. She knows what Donna's up against, because like me, she's been through it. Once a human, now a Time Lord. She's the one who looked at all the records, figured out what went wrong, and came up with the solution. We hope."

Wilf rose and went to the window, placing his hand against the cool surface, and regarded the preparations taking place in the next room.

Wilf turned towards the door. Standing there, pensively, was the Doctor. He looked like he didn't know whether he should extend a hand or not, a quandary the old man solved for him by crossing the room and seizing the Time Lord in an embrace.

"Should have fixed this earlier, Wilf, but I didn't know how," the Doctor admitted when Wilfred released him. "Thankfully, Rose came up with an idea of her own. But... I'm sorry, Wilf. I'm so, so sorry I didn't find a better way at the time."

The older man took a deep breath, and let it out. "She lived until someone could, yes? Then you did what you could, and now you can get it dealt with properly."

"Yes. Yes, I can." The Doctor hugged him again. "And thank you for taking care of her until I could. I owe you so much."

The Master entered, slipping past the two men with a tray balanced waiter-style on one hand. "I brought Kendal mint cake!" He grinned cheerfully and put the tray down next to the teapot. "It might take a bit, so I thought we should be comfortable."

Inside the room, Romana slipped off her chair, walking towards the window. Rose stood and did something to the side of the table where Donna lay. A moment later, it changed shape, converting seamlessly into a structure that looked not unlike a dentist's chair, conveying the unconscious woman partly upright. After moving her chair so that it faced Donna, Rose didn't sit back down, but instead stood before her, a pensive look on her face.

"Recorders on," Romana's voice came through a speaker, as she touched keys on the wall. "Whenever you're ready, Rose."

Rose nodded, then folded her hands before her chest, in what the Doctor recognized as a Ryôzan meditative gesture. Her breathing became deeper and more rapid, the thought line between her eyebrows deepening; her lips moved, silently forming the syllables of an ancient oath - and her hands began to glow with an eerie orange light.

Recognizing that light, the Doctor hurled himself reflexively at the window, shouting, "Rose, no! What are you doing?!"

She didn't hear him, of course; that window would've stopped the sound of a cannon shot. Don and the Master darted forward and caught him by the arms, preventing him from pounding on or trying to go through the transparent impervium (which would have done no damage to the window and rather a lot to the Doctor).

"Rassilon's nuts, Doctor, you do not want to break the Professor's concentration!" the Master cried, completely serious for the first time the Doctor could recall in a very long time. Looking him in the eye, his ex-nemesis went on, "This process is incredibly delicate!"

The Doctor tried to free himself, but to no avail - Don's stocky frame outmassed his own by a factor of at least 50%, while the Master had the wiry strength of a madman. Eyes wild with something very like panic, he could only watch as Rose suddenly threw her arms wide and released a torrent of that orange energy straight into the unconscious form propped up before her.

"What is THAT?" Wilf asked, alarmed, as the glare washed through the window and filled the observation room with what felt like firelight.

"She - " The Doctor paused, blinking rapidly, then shrugged himself free of his colleagues' grip and went more peacefully to the window, putting his hand against it. His expression melted from horror to wonder.

"She's passing on a regeneration!" the Doctor exclaimed, then turned back to Don and the Master in amazement.

The glare flickered, ebbed, and died away. The Doctor whirled back to the window to see Rose stumble back and half-fall into her carefully positioned chair, the last crackles of regenerative fire sparking from her fingertips and eyes. Romana went to her side, wielding a mediscanner with practiced hands, but Rose waved her off and gave her a thumbs-up, so she went to check on Donna instead.

"Yes, well," the Master said, "a metacrisis is a partial regeneration. It stands to reason that if you needed to finish it off, you'd need another shot of the same energy." He smiled less manically than usual. "I don't like to brag," he went on, drawing a faint snort from Don, "but I know more about regeneration than anyone else of our generation. Get it? Gen... re... anyway. When Professor Tyler had her - incredibly brilliant, by the way, I totally get what you see in her now - idea, she brought it to me and I told her what I could." The Doctor favored him with a glare at such a blithe comment, only to have the glare returned with a cheery smile.

"Because you'd have tried to stop her, you imbecile," said the Master with cheerful patience. "Besides, you're rubbish at regeneration. Which she knows firsthand, you may recall. You'd have been no help at all. Speaking of which, old chum, how did you manage to cause a metacrisis in the first place? It's a bit of a faff making one happen. Almost impossible for even you to do by mistake, I would have thought, unless your attention was seriously elsewhere."

Tuesday, August 24, 79
Pompeii, Campania
Earth

The blast propelled the Doctor and Donna into the TARDIS, the door slamming shut behind them. Both gasped, she from the force of being pushed onto the floor of the TARDIS, he from the fact that a chunk of lava had just hit him square in the back. He felt that sudden surge inside him, and found himself wanting, incongruously, to belch. He crawled over Donna, who objected strenuously to that, until she spotted the smoking burn on his back.

"Good grief, you're hurt bad!" She wiggled out from under him, and started to get up. "Where's the first aid kit? We'll get a bandage on that then get you to a... er... another doctor!" She stepped forwards, between him and what he was reaching for, crouching to look under the console. "In here? Wait, there's nothing in here but that freaky hand-in-a-jar thing."

The Doctor tried to say something that might've been "get out of the way." Donna turned, thinking to ask him if he might speak up, and saw that his hands and face were glowing with a bright orange light. Before she could ask him what that was all about, a burst of that light streamed from his hand, straight into the jar stored under the console... and right through Donna, who hadn't gotten out of the way.

She looked down at her chest in blank astonishment as the energy streamed through her, to no evident effect; she didn't even feel it. A couple of seconds later it ended, and the Doctor pulled himself to his feet.

"Eh... the hell was that, space boy?" Donna demanded. She went around behind him and stared at his back - cleanly healed - through the charred hole remaining in his coat, suitjacket, and shirt. "What did you do?"

"Little trick Time Lords can do," the Doctor replied offhandedly, trotting over and crouching down to look in on the now-faintly-glowing hand. "We can restart our whole bodies if it looks like we're going to die. Usually means a complete makeover, but I didn't want to change, so I figured if I could get to my spare hand, I'd be able to stick the rest of the energy into it and stay me." He dusted at his sleeves. "And it worked!" he said cheerfully. "Brilliant."

"Wh - well what's your weird alien energy going to do to me?" Donna demanded.

He turned, peered into one of her eyes with an ophthalmoscope he seemed to have been carrying at random in an inside pocket, then grinned. "Nothing, apparently," he said. "Stands to reason, you're not Gallifreyan and all. Now!" he continued, bounding to the console and starting to set controls. "That thing the Pyroviles mentioned - their home planet's gone missing, along with the Adipose breeding planet? I think we should follow that up, eh?"

"Terribly, terribly wrong," the Doctor agreed, hanging his head. "The missing planets turned out to be part of a Dalek masterplan. We stopped Davros before he got the rest of his reality bomb put together, sent the Daleks packing - but he shocked her with an electrical weapon, and that activated the metacrisis. All my knowledge, crammed into her head, coming alight all at once, and no way for her neurons to contain it."

Donna couldn't quite think - no, that wasn't it, it was that she couldn't stop thinking. All the thoughts running together, all this knowledge, all running through her. Just running running running...

"Donna. D'you know what's happening...?" The Doctor's voice soft, and pained.

She found herself replying, "... yeah."

"There's never been a human/Time Lord metacrisis before now. And you know why. Because there can't be." She watched him move towards her, and for a moment, she felt terribly afraid of him.

"I want to stay," she said.

"Look at me, Donna," said the Doctor firmly. "Look at me."

Even though she didn't want to, she did, looking up into his eyes. Tears starting to fall, she gasped out, "I was gonna be with you. Forever."

Solemnly, the Doctor nodded. "I know."

"Rest of my life. Traveling. In the TARDIS. The Doctor-Donna. Oh, but I can't go back. Don't make me go back, Doctor. Please."

His eyes started to well up too. "Donna. Oh, Donna Noble. I'm so sorry. But we had the best of times. The best." He paused. "Goodbye." He placed his hands, gently, on her temples.

Tears continued to fall, unbidden, unwanted, unrestrained, as she whispered, pleaded, even though she knew what she wanted was impossible, not sure whether she was begging the Doctor to relent or the universe. "No, please, no, no, no..."

Donna Noble opened her eyes, rubbed them - then suddenly realized that things she hadn't remembered were there again. She finished rubbing her eyes and looked around to find herself in her bed, surrounded by a number of people, only a few of whom she knew and one she locked eyes with.

The Doctor smiled his beaming smile, arms open in welcome. Donna took two strides toward him, then socked him across the jaw, dropping him straight to the rug. "You son of a bitch!" she exclaimed, then shook her hand and added, "Ow!"

The Master - she knew suddenly who he was - said kindly, "Thumb outside when you do that, hurts less. Also, don't hit the bony parts next time; go for the solar plexus." She gave him a sour look, then turned to look around the room.

"Well, then. What the hell's gone on here and..." She suddenly palmed her forehead. "... oh. Regenerative energy infusion to resolve the metacrisis. Right. Up to speed. Makes sense." Then she smiled broadly, the shine back in her eyes. Wilf nearly wept at the sight of her, the old Donna back again, and then she hugged him and he didn't try to hold it back.

A cheer went up around the room, and the gathered Time Lords welcomed their newest member. Even the Doctor, once he'd picked himself up from the floor, joined in.

"What now?" Donna wondered, wiping lamb grease from her hand with a paper napkin. Next to the dining table, her valise was packed. She'd dressed in some clothing that Wilf had hidden away - a dark grey coat, a pair of jeans, light boots and a sturdy shirt, good for adventuring - but hadn't been willing to get rid of.

"Well," Don said, having finished his kebab, "there's all sorts of things. We could take you to Gallifrey, get you a quick pass on the exams, then get you a TARDIS and you can do the sorts of things that the Doctor and Rose do."

"And me!" the Master chimed in, through a napkin so he didn't spit tabbouleh across the table.

"The International Police over in the twenty-fifth century would take you in a heartsbeat," Romana added in. "But you still might want to go to Gallifrey and sit the exams, just to get that out of the way. I can take you," she said, smiling, "and I'm quite sure you'll pass!"

Donna bowed her head, grinning. "Thank you very kindly, President Pro Tem Romanadvoratrelundar."

"Pfft," Romana said, "I told you, my friends call me Romana. And I think we'll be friends."

"If I could pass them," Rose said around a mouthful of chicken, "you'll find it a lark."

Donna gave her a Look. "I believe you had some help." Then she smiled, rising. "Can I have a word with you, Rose?" Rose swallowed the bite, then followed into the living room.

"Listen, I need to know - you and the Doctor. It's, well... you-and-the-Doctor, yeah?" Donna said, softly, to Rose. When Rose looked like she didn't quite know how to answer that, Donna made an exasperated little sound and went on, "You're in love with him. And vice versa, obviously."

Donna grinned. "Because he's my best mate, and it helps to know these things." She put an arm around Rose's shoulders and added with cheery sarcasm, "Beyond me why you'd want to climb that beanpole, but to each her own, eh?" Rose gave a snort of relieved laughter as they started back for the dining room. "Anyway, I'd roll out the traditional best-mate threat here, but under the circumstances... " She flipped a hand.

"Sylvia," Wilf called up the stairs, "I'm headed to the twenty-fifth century for a bit with Donna, so don't hold dinner for us!"

Sylvia Noble sighed, and made a mental note to find a home for her father, until she heard a sudden noise, and then burst into tears, realizing that wheezing, grinding noise - the sound of a TARDIS - meant that someone finally had figured out a way to bring her daughter back.

"Per Aspera Ex Umbra (A Rough Road Out of Shadow)" - a Future Imperfect mini-story by Geoff Depew with Benjamin D. Hutchins
Scene from "Journey's End" by Russell T. Davies
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