netgirl_y2k (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
netgirl_y2k) wrote2009-09-19 06:02 pm
netgirl_y2k) wrote2009-09-19 06:02 pm
Fic: Memory Loss Support Group
Title: Memory Loss Support Group
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Donna/Ace
Rating: G
Word Count: 509
Summary: “Now to find the Professor and get him to sort your memory.”
“Why are you here, then?” the woman in the bike leathers asked her.
“People kept jamming flyers about this place under the wipers of my car,” Donna replied. “A support group for people who've lost part of their memories, it said. And what do I get? Jo, who's got some kind of addiction to hypnosis. Leo, who thinks his family have been secretly messing with his memory. And you, what's your problem, then?”
“I was in a war.”
“Gulf war support group,” Donna said, “back into the corridor, turn left, first door on your right.”
“I don't think it was that kind of war.” The woman took a gulp of the burnt coffee they laid on here, “Bloody hell, that's disgusting.”
“It's all they serve,” said Donna. “It's like alcoholics bloody anonymous in here.”
“Fancy getting a proper drink?”
*
“Ace?” Donna sneered, taking a gulp of gin and tonic, “Your name is Ace?”
“Yeah, what's wrong with that?”
“You're my age, that's what's wrong with it.”
“What age is that, then?”
“Oh, shut up and get the next round in.”
*
Sylvia frowned as Donna brought another box of her stuff down to the front hall. “Where did you even meet this woman?”
“I've told you, she goes to my support group.”
“Oh, your support group,” Sylvia sneered. “Your fiancé left you and you spent the next eighteen months swimming in gin, of course you can't remember much. You don't need to move in with a motorcycle riding, leather wearing lunatic who calls herself Ace.”
“I'll bring her round for Sunday lunch, mum.”
“I knew I should have worried more about you not having a boyfriend.”
*
“You didn't say this place was only one bedroom,” said Donna.
“That going to be a problem?”
Donna thought about it, “You're going to have to move your motorbike so I can get my car parked in the drive.”
*
Donna knew nothing about motorbikes. When she was nineteen she'd had a boyfriend who'd loved them, so she'd feigned interest in them for about six weeks. But she knew less that nothing about them, so why on earth couldn't she stop fidgeting with Ace's bike.
“Hello, love.”
“Gramps!” Donna was delighted to see Wilf coming down the street towards her. “Gramps, this is Ace,” she turned to where Ace was supervising Donna to make sure she didn't hurt the bike.
“Wilfred Mott, you must be Donna's...”
“Friend,” Ace supplied, taking pity on Wilf.
Donna leaned down and absent-mindedly tweaked a wire on the bike. There was a rushing sound and what could only be described as a portal opened.
Ace turned away from Wilf and leapt onto Donna's back, wrapping her arms around her and kissing her neck. “You did it! Donna, you fixed it! Right,” Ace swung herself onto the bike, “now to find the Professor and get him to sort your memory.”
“What?” Donna asked, but both Ace and Wilf ignored her.
“You look after her,” Wilf instructed.
“Course,” Ace agreed, shoving a helmet at Donna. “Come on, you heard the man.”
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Donna/Ace
Rating: G
Word Count: 509
Summary: “Now to find the Professor and get him to sort your memory.”
“Why are you here, then?” the woman in the bike leathers asked her.
“People kept jamming flyers about this place under the wipers of my car,” Donna replied. “A support group for people who've lost part of their memories, it said. And what do I get? Jo, who's got some kind of addiction to hypnosis. Leo, who thinks his family have been secretly messing with his memory. And you, what's your problem, then?”
“I was in a war.”
“Gulf war support group,” Donna said, “back into the corridor, turn left, first door on your right.”
“I don't think it was that kind of war.” The woman took a gulp of the burnt coffee they laid on here, “Bloody hell, that's disgusting.”
“It's all they serve,” said Donna. “It's like alcoholics bloody anonymous in here.”
“Fancy getting a proper drink?”
*
“Ace?” Donna sneered, taking a gulp of gin and tonic, “Your name is Ace?”
“Yeah, what's wrong with that?”
“You're my age, that's what's wrong with it.”
“What age is that, then?”
“Oh, shut up and get the next round in.”
*
Sylvia frowned as Donna brought another box of her stuff down to the front hall. “Where did you even meet this woman?”
“I've told you, she goes to my support group.”
“Oh, your support group,” Sylvia sneered. “Your fiancé left you and you spent the next eighteen months swimming in gin, of course you can't remember much. You don't need to move in with a motorcycle riding, leather wearing lunatic who calls herself Ace.”
“I'll bring her round for Sunday lunch, mum.”
“I knew I should have worried more about you not having a boyfriend.”
*
“You didn't say this place was only one bedroom,” said Donna.
“That going to be a problem?”
Donna thought about it, “You're going to have to move your motorbike so I can get my car parked in the drive.”
*
Donna knew nothing about motorbikes. When she was nineteen she'd had a boyfriend who'd loved them, so she'd feigned interest in them for about six weeks. But she knew less that nothing about them, so why on earth couldn't she stop fidgeting with Ace's bike.
“Hello, love.”
“Gramps!” Donna was delighted to see Wilf coming down the street towards her. “Gramps, this is Ace,” she turned to where Ace was supervising Donna to make sure she didn't hurt the bike.
“Wilfred Mott, you must be Donna's...”
“Friend,” Ace supplied, taking pity on Wilf.
Donna leaned down and absent-mindedly tweaked a wire on the bike. There was a rushing sound and what could only be described as a portal opened.
Ace turned away from Wilf and leapt onto Donna's back, wrapping her arms around her and kissing her neck. “You did it! Donna, you fixed it! Right,” Ace swung herself onto the bike, “now to find the Professor and get him to sort your memory.”
“What?” Donna asked, but both Ace and Wilf ignored her.
“You look after her,” Wilf instructed.
“Course,” Ace agreed, shoving a helmet at Donna. “Come on, you heard the man.”