Incompatible

Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Ten/Donna
Genre: Fluff, humour, romance
Length: Oneshot, 1250 words
Description: The Doctor has made an error. Donna is suffering the consequences, and she is displeased.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the BBC, not to me.
Note: This is a sort of followup to "Compulsion," in which the Doctor said he and Donna had incompatible DNA, and a few people pointed out that Time Lords and humans have been known to interbreed in canon. Also, this is for missbuterfly, who really wanted "Compulsion" to wind up this way. This is, however, not intended as a true sequel to "Compulsion." Call it an AU ending, if you like.


*****
"You said we had incompatible DNA."

The Doctor cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Well... perhaps incompatible was an overstatement."

"An overstatement. Really."

"In fact, it might have even been... um... entirely incorrect."

"Oh. Really. I'm shocked."

The Doctor cringed slightly at Donna's sarcasm. Her tone, he thought unhappily, was so sharp he could have used it to shave with.

"I do make mistakes upon occasion," he said with dignity.

"So do I." She glared at him. "Like shagging idiot Time Lords who don't think they need to use condoms!"

He winced at her words, and the volume with which they were delivered. "I'm sorry, Donna. Really, really sorry. I honestly didn't think--"

"Yeah, you obviously weren't thinking." She groaned. "Neither was I, apparently."

"I'm sorry." He knelt next to her on the floor of the loo, where she was currently worshipping the great and benevolent porcelain goddess, as she had poetically expressed it. "It probably happened because of the mental link we developed. I s'pose I should've used protection, just in case. Next time--"

He broke off as she heaved and retched into the toilet. "Next time?" she repeated thickly when she was through. "Are you kidding me? Do you honestly think I will ever, ever let you touch me again?"

"I know you don't want to hear this," he said, "but women almost always survive morning sickness. Even morning sickness of the Gallifreyan variety."

"Are you telling me that Time Lords have extra-special, super-duper, ultra-strong morning sickness?"

"Well..." He coughed uncomfortably. "There was a very good reason we usually had our children via an asexual process."

"Because the men in your society got tired of being screamed at by violently ill women?"

"Something like that, yes." He reached out awkwardly and patted her shoulder. The physical contact allowed him to feel a bit of her nausea through the telepathic bond they'd developed. It felt... unpleasant. "Try not to focus on the sicking up, Donna. Focus on the positive instead. Just think, we're going to have a ginger baby."

"Maybe." She gagged into the toilet again, and he clamped his jaws and swallowed hard, trying to ignore the echo of her feelings in his head. "Unless we have a baby with messy brown hair sticking up all over its head. The poor child."

"It'll be ginger," he said with absolute confidence. "It'll be gorgeous."

She looked at him, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and smiled, just a little. "You really think so?"

"I really think so." He touched her hair gently. "Gorgeous... just like you."

The truth was that she currently wasn't at her most lovely, with her hair hanging stringily around her face, sweat beaded on her forehead, and huge dark circles under her eyes. But even though the Doctor was hardly an expert on women, he was bright enough to realise that he didn't need to mention any of that. Donna was gorgeous. Absolutely.

Well, sort of. If one stretched the definition just a tad.

She smiled at his words, and he realised with a touch of surprise that even hunched over the toilet, her hair hanging limply and her skin pale and damp... she really was gorgeous.

"A beautiful little baby," she whispered. "Not such a bad mistake to make, really."

"Exactly!" he said brightly. "You'll have a gorgeous little ginger baby in your arms in just twenty months."

She froze. "In just what?"

"Twenty months. The gestational period is twenty-one months, and you're already a month along, so..." He caught sight of her face, and trailed off. "Oh. Well. Yes. That may seem a bit long, from the human perspective, but you see, a Time Lord brain is significantly more complex, so..."

"Never touch me," she said firmly, "ever, ever again."

She turned back to the toilet and began retching again, and he held her head, feeling somewhat queasy himself. "But--"

"Never again!"

He sighed. "Ginger," he said under his breath, "and probably really, really loud."

"Oi! I heard that! Don't you think you're already in enough trouble, Sperm Lord?"

"I said I was sorry!"

"Good. Say it every day for the next twenty months, and I might just forgive you."

"You'll forgive me before that," he said optimistically. "Most women stop having morning sickness after the first six months or so."

"Oh, thanks for that information. I'm so very happy to know that. So I can look forward to six months of puking up my insides? That's absolutely spiffing."

He stroked her hair with gentle sympathy. "I'll have to keep an eye on you-- make sure you don't get dehydrated, or develop an electrolyte imbalance. But don't worry, Donna. I'll take good care of you."

"Just because I'm pregnant with your baby?"

"Of course not." He heard the hurt in his own voice. "Don't I always take good care of you, Donna?"

"S'pose so." She leaned her head against his chest. "A little too good, sometimes, or I wouldn't be in this mess."

"Actually," he said, "this was caused more by you taking care of me, as I recall." He squeezed her, very carefully, so as not to upset her stomach further. "And it was brilliant."

"And so were all the times after." She sighed, and then drew back and smiled at him, just a bit. "Doctor. We're going to have a baby."

"A ginger baby with a big mouth."

"No. A Time Lordling with spiky brown hair and a tendency to babble."

"There's an old Gallifreyan saying," he said, drawing her back to his chest. "Only time will tell."

"Yeah." She sighed. "Lots and lots and lots of time. During which I'll swell up to the size of a planet."

"Only a small planet. And you'll still be gorgeous, the same as you are now. There'll be a bit more of you for me to admire than usual, that's all."

"You're deluded."

"Am not. I'm a Time Lord. I see basic truths of the universe that your tiny little human brain can't perceive. And one of those basic truths is that Donna Noble is always gorgeous."

She rolled her eyes. "Definitely deluded. But I reckon that's not such a bad thing." She pressed her face against him, and he had the unworthy thought that he hoped she wasn't wiping off anything, well, yucky on his beloved brown suit.

Oh, well, he reflected. Once their little ginger baby was born, there would be plenty of yuckiness on his suits. He hadn't been a father for many years, but he certainly hadn't forgotten all the rather disgusting baby byproducts. They weren't the sort of thing anyone could forget.

And yet, oddly, he found he was looking forward to the experience, more than he'd looked forward to anything in a long, long time.

"I can't wait to see you that way," he said. "I think you'll look lovely."

"I think I'll look like an overinflated beach ball. I can definitely wait. Not that I have much choice in the matter, anyway." She sighed. "Twenty months? Really?"

"Twenty months," he confirmed. "Even though the baby's half human, the gestational period will still be twenty months."

She sighed, and patted her abdomen, which of course showed no signs of pregnancy yet. "I suppose it's worth the wait."

"Of course it is. Babies are wonderful."

"Even half-human babies?"

He looked into her eyes, and smiled.

"A baby that's half you, Donna," he said softly, "is the most wonderful thing I can imagine."

-The End-