Title: Fallout, Part Twentyone

Author: Emma

Characters: A whole bunch of folk.

Rating: Starts PG, but hey, it’s got Jack in it!

Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?
Author's Note: This fic is CoE compliant

Part One is here; Part Two is here; Part Three is here; Part Four is here; Part Five is here; Part Six is here; Part Seven is here; Part Eight is here; Part Nine is here; Part Ten is here; Part Eleven is here; Part Twelve is here; Part Thirteen is here; Part Fourteen is here; Part Fifteen is here; Part Sixteen is here; Part Seventeen is here; Part Eighteen is here; Part Nineteen is here; Part Twenty is here

            “Hey, Captain Gorgeous.”

            “Hello, Donna. How are you feeling?”

            “Like I’ve been run over by an artic.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Why am I here, Jack? Actually, where the hell am I?”

            “Torchwood London. Something or someone triggered your memory and you slipped into a coma. We got to you just in time.”

            “So how come I’m still alive? I thought the skinny Martian said it would kill me to remember?”

            Jack snorted at her nickname for the Doctor. “We found a way to take the Doctor out of your brain. No overload.”

            “I hope you were careful, then,” she said waspishly. “Some of the good parts were mine, you know!”

            “Don’t worry. We kept you sharp and mouthy, Red.” He sat down on the side of the bed. “I need to ask you some questions, Donna.”

            “I had a feeling you would.”

            “What do you remember about the last couple of weeks?”

            “The temp agency sent me to St. George’s Wharf. Private residence, which I don’t often do, people being what they are, but they offered a lot of money for a few days’ work.  It was a Mrs. Meester, Dutch lady, really very nice.” She rubbed her temples. “We finished… what day is today?”

            “Tuesday.”

            “Last Wednesday, I guess, then. And she offered me a drink and some nibblies, she was always snacking and called them nibblies, and I don’t remember anything else until I woke up and saw you looking down at me.”

            “Sounds about right. The toxicology report says you had a lot of sedatives in your system.” He chuckled at her outraged expression. “Tell me about Mrs. Meester.”

            “Like I said, Dutch lady. Expert on tulips. She wanted someone to help her organize her files. She told Mary at the agency that she had heard about me from another client. I think she mentioned the name but I don’t remember it. Are you saying she did this, Jack? Why?”

            “Because… the Doctor never mentioned someone called the Master, did he? Silly question. Sorry. I guess the best way to put it is that you got caught in a very old feud.”

            She punched him in the arm. “The whole story, Captain Gorgeous. If someone’s going around trying to pick a fight with me I want to know who.”

            “Well, there’s a problem with that. It’s all supposed to be top secret, highest security rating sort of stuff. Temp staff wouldn’t rate.” He grinned at her. “Want a permanent job?”