❯ out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.
– Khalil Gibran
[FARREN]
The Doctor paced furtively forwards through the snow, staring down at the map in his hands as Farren hovered by his side, craned neck to stare at the map with just as much scrutiny and if the situation at hand wasn't serious- it would have been a comical sight. Like a kid that often imitated their hero, Farren easily kept with his rapid steps and stared at the map even though she didn't really know what he was looking for.
Donna, much more aware of her surroundings- lingered by a steel door and brought her fingers to her lips in a whistle since she doubted they'd listen to her words.
Both Farren and the Doctor jolted in shock and spun around immediately.
"Jesus," Farren complained, massaging her ears with the heels of her palms.
"Where'd you learn to whistle?" The Doctor, considerably impressed, pocketed the map and went to the door.
Donna displayed a wild grin of pride "West Ham, every Saturday."
He slipped his screwdriver out his inside pocket and held it against the door for a millisecond before it clicked open to expose a room full of shipping containers surrounded by a tight air. Farren cringed at the mechanical setting and stood in front of the Doctor and Donna.
The shipping containers were painted an icy tone of steel blue, some where stacked on top of one another and pale barrels stood by each container. The robotic hum of a metallic claw sounded from above them as it moved around aimlessly, its pincers clanked whilst it grabbed at thin air.
"Ood export. You see?" The Doctor pointed at the claw "Lifts up the containers, takes them to the rocket sheds, ready to be flown out all over the three galaxies."
"What, you mean, these containers are full of . . ." Donna trailed off, suddenly horrified.
"What do you think?" The Doctor muttered as Farren reached to twist the lock of the closest container- she recoiled immediately at both the smell and sight.
"Oh, it stinks." The three properly stepped into the container "How many of them do you think they are in each one?" Donna asked.
"Hundred? More?" Even he was unsure, making only an estimate after catching sight of the never ending heads stacked in rows. The Doctor frowned.
"A great big empire built on slavery." Donna's heart ached at the thought of it all, disappointed and angry at the human race had resorted to such cruelty, an ancient kind of cruelty she believed- yeah, definitely viruses- she thought.
"It's not so different from your time." He hummed a biting response without giving it much though and Farren grimace- though there was truth to his statement, it was still uncalled for.
"Not mine." The teenager muttered.
"Maybe not Fawlay, but you weren't living there, were you?" He, harshly, reminded the girl and Donna frowned.
"Oi, I- we haven't got slaves."
"Who do you think made your clothes?"
"Is that why you travel round with us at your side?" Donna's tone was lowly seething, offended and defensive "It's not so you can show them the wonders of the universe" Mocking "- it's so you can take cheap shots?"
Quickly, he became speechless and Farren, wide eyed. He looked to the teenager first than back at Donna.
"Sorry," He muttered "Both of you- sorry."
YOU ARE READING
Golden Wanderer (DOCTOR WHO FAN-FIC)
Fanfiction"Are you always going to be running around saving my life?" He grinned at the young girl. "Pretty much, and one day, maybe I'll let you save mine." The blonde smirked and the two rushed through the destruction. .. Farren, when she ran from t...
