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[personal profile] eljay_earthgirl
Title: Scanning (11/?)
Author: [livejournal.com profile] eriknannie4evr 
Rating: PG
Word Count: 551 & 1078
Warnings: None really
A/N: A HUGE kudos to my first-time beta [livejournal.com profile] sykira  for her wonderful advice. Any mistakes or crappy stuff can be blamed on me not listening to her. I also want to say that certain things addressed in these two chapters may seem overused and contrived, or even confusing, but there is a reason for it and all will be revealed soon. (Hopefully)

Read from first here

Arriving at the Hub, the Doctor and Donna waited while the Torchwood team readied a bed for Della in the med bay. Once they were clear, the doctor carried Della through the lower entrance while Donna checked for prying eyes. Sitting her on the slab-turned-bed, the doctor placed a hand on her temple, checking that the mental clamp he had pressed in was still working.

Coming up next to him, arms crossed, Jack asked, “So Doc, you gonna tell us what’s going on?”

”When I know everything I will. I need to run a few tests first,” replied the Doctor as he headed to the small CAT scanner.

As he thought about what adjustments were needed, Tosh stepped over and the two began to take apart the machine while brainstorming ideas to boost the scanner. Owen slowly checked Della’s vitals, and not finding anything wrong, moved to the closest computer to enter her information.

Ianto came up beside Jack and Donna, offering a cuppa to each. They took the tea gratefully, thankful for something to keep their hands occupied while they watched the work on the scanner progress.

After a while Jack wandered off, presumably, to his office. Donna pulled up a nearby chair and took the opportunity to take a better look at Della. She chuckled inwardly as the thought of beautiful children flittered through her mind. She had to admit Della was pretty, with a smattering of freckles over peach skin creating an endearingly youthful appearance. While her eyes were closed now, Donna knew that when they opened she would see the Doctor’s eyes, those soulful brown orbs that seemed to pin her with their gaze. She noticed how ruffled Della’s clothes were and attempted to straighten them. Seeing the black knit hat was still on her head, Donna removed it, anticipating its future removal for the scan.
As the hat was pulled off, a mop of wavy red hair settled.

“Of course she would be a ginger,” Donna muttered, smiling, “Doctor wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She found that the natural waves of Della’s hair created a stylish but messy look. Not unlike the Doctor’s hair, she pondered with a grin.

“She had long hair when I met her.”

Donna looked up to find the Doctor standing across from her, hands shoved in his pockets. He stared down at Della, his face stoic and emotions masked. Donna looked back down, thinking for the first time that the short hair made Della appear rather gangly.

“She’s got your nose,” Donna mused, combing her fingers carefully through the short locks, “And your eyes. Maybe even your ears.”

She smiled up at the Doctor, trying to lighten the mood. To her relief, he gave a small smile before walking over to her. She watched him as he studied Della, knowing that there was something he was keeping from her.

“Doctor, is she…” Donna trailed off, not quite knowing how to word her question.

“She’s our daughter,” he answered stiffly, still studying Della intently.

Donna’s mouth went slack before she composed herself. Of course she had guessed as much, she wasn’t blind or stupid, but it was one thing to think of something as fact and another to have it proven. Her mind flittered to the small life growing within her, finding it a bit disorienting to have their child both in front of and inside her. Warmth filled her as she gazed at the sleeping girl, tangible proof that this life with the Doctor was real and wonderful. Something bothered her though, something… oh!

Donna leaned to him slightly, “She’s not supposed to be here, is she? She’s out of temporal sync, or something mumbo-jumbo like that, right?”

The Doctor nodded slowly, and Donna realized he was thinking of Jenny. A small pang of sorrow shot through her as she thought about the young blonde, so energetic and full of wonder for the world, and how she had been forced unexpectedly upon the Doctor. Donna laced her fingers in his and turned him to face her.

“This isn’t like Jenny,” she whispered, reaching up to cup his face.

He covered her hand with his own and stroked her knuckles as he stared at her.

“You don’t know that,” he replied coldly, “No one knows how this could turn out.”

Donna brought her other hand up and turned him so she could look directly at him.

“This is not like Jenny,” she said forcefully, “This is not some alien planet, there is no war here. This is not like Jenny.”

He stared at her for a while before turning to Della. He slowly reached out a hand only to retract it as if he had been caught opening the cookie jar. Donna gently took his hand and stretched it out once again. The Doctor paused, and after reassuring smile from Donna ran a shaky finger through her hair.


He turned back to Donna, making a small noise of inquisition.

“What’s causing the seizures?” Donna paused, then frowned, “More importantly, why didn’t she recognize us?”

The Doctor nodded towards the scanner, “We’ll know shortly, I can’t tell exactly what’s going on until I see what damage is there.”

Before Donna could question him further, Tosh turned from the scanner and nodded. The Doctor hurried over, and together they positioned the makeshift machine around Della. Donna backed up to give them some room and made her way around to the receiving computer. After a while Tosh joined her and keyed in the startup sequence. The three watched as the machine went to work.

Tosh looked up from the screen, “First scans are coming up.”

The Doctor came over as the two women made room for him in front of the main screen. Donna wasn’t a doctor, nor did she know exactly what a brain was supposed to look like scanned, but even she could tell that something was wrong with what she was seeing. What she had always assumed would be a rather smooth looking blob of grey was coming out looking remarkably like spaghetti and popcorn. A low curse from the Doctor confirmed her suspicions. Still studying the incoming scans, he reached in his pocket and fished out his mobile.

“Call Martha,” he said, handing the phone to Donna, “Tell her we’re going to need another pair of hands.”

Donna nodded and started the call, wondering just how bad things were for the sleeping girl on the table.

Next part here

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