THE DOCTOR'S HOPE
A/N: This story was speed-written (ahem) on a very lonely night, prompted by doctordonna-s and workitmakeit on tumblr. They were discussing that if one of them was a companion of the Doctor, they would make him find a way to bring Donna's memories back without killing her. The author (meself) just bombarded on their talk, and was forced to write the following story (but not really). So, this is the story of a companion discovering about the rueful fate of Donna Noble and demanding some fix-it from the Doctor. But nothing is as simple as that with him and his time travels.
IMPORTANT: The original character is NOT and WILL NEVER BE a romantic interest of the Doctor's. She's a friend, thank you very much.
I am not a native English speaker and this story has not been proof read (it was barely reread by me!). It was, like I said, speed-written. So I apologise in advance. The storytelling here is simpler and more to the point.
Hope Lightfoot flipped the coin for the third time that day.
She sighed and started walking forward in the busy London street. Tails meant she wasn't supposed to spend money taking the tube or the bus. She had been living on the "coin policy", as she called it, for five days now.
She was running out of money and she had no idea what to do.
The people around her rushed past her without glancing twice. She was a very common type: not too beautiful nor ugly, only passable. Her long dark hair was kept on a braid to avoid the windy days - there had been this one time a few weeks ago when she got her hair stuck on a mailbox and it took all evening to get it free because she refused to let the policeman cut it free. Of course, all her whining didn't do her any good and he cut it anyway.
The mere thought of it made her feel embarrassed, like it had just happened. She shook her head and tried to focus on the path ahead of her.
It was a chilly November day in London, and the heating in her new lodgings wasn't very effective. It was the third time in five months that she had to change hostels. The first one that she stayed in was quite expensive and she soon realised she wasn't made of money, even though she had more money in her pocket than most twenty-something girls.
That didn't make her any better, though. At least they had jobs.
It seemed like everybody was able to find a job except her. Hope didn't know how to write a resume and the only place that hired her - a diner in central London - soon regretted it.
Because Hope sucked as a waitress. She broke more glasses in one day than any other employee in a month. She was pretty sure she had set a new world record of breaking glasses, but no one rewarded her for that.
She only wished she was a little less clumsy. Oh, that would make so much difference in her life...
Before she could continue her pity-me thoughts, though, someone ran into her with such bluntness that she fell to the ground, a little bewildered.
"Oh, oh, I'm sorry! Here, let me help you, are you okay?"
"Well, as okay as someone who has just been trampled over can be" she couldn't help saying.
"Ah, but see, you're fine" the man smiled a goofy smile at her.
He was wearing a bow tie. A bow tie.
She frowned, staring at the weird accessory.
"Hmm... you seem a bit bewildered".
"Hm? Oh, no, no. Fine, see" she waved at him. "Okay, yes, well, thanks- I mean" she shook her head. What was she saying, for Christ's sake? "See ya" she was finally able to blurb out.
She turned around and kept walking. Something behind her made the weirdest of noises - a high pitched whirring sound, but only barely noticeable.
"Wait! Wait!" the man in the bow tie screamed at her, and she turned to him once again.
"What? What?" she asked, nervously, taking a step backwards and looking around. There was plenty of people. But would any of them help her if she screamed "psycho maniac"?
"You... you!" he was pointing a sort of thick metal pen-thingy with a green light on top at her. And that thing was making the noise.
"What?!" she insisted, more confused than nervous now.
He recoiled the pen-thingy with a quick motion of his hands and squinted his eyes, looking at her. "You don't happen to have had any strange contact with a mailbox, have you?"