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A whining noise suddenly filled the air, bringing with it an unexpected breeze. And, out of nowhere, a strange blue shape emerged into existence, finishing the miraculous event with a rich "whomp" as it sat down like a hen on its nest.
A skinny man stepped out of the blue box, pirouetted a full circle, arms spread out wide, and exclaimed, excitement in his voice,
"Here we are. The North Pole!"
A woman's voice followed him from inside the box.
"No way!" it said disbelievingly.
"Yes way! Look at the sky and the snow … and the fireplace …" His voice trailed off as he really took in his surroundings this time. "Well," he stretched uncomfortably. "Still could be the North Pole."
The red-haired woman stepped out of the box, clothed in a thick parka, the fell-rimmed hood pulled protectively half-way over her head. She stopped and let it fall back. Planting her hands at her hips, she looked at the living room they had obviously landed in. It was all covered in wood, giving the room a warm and cosy touch, accompanied by a thickly cushioned and very comfortably looking couch and armchair. A rather delicate couch-table completed the ensemble that gathered before a huge fireplace, which was offering the only light in the room.
"The North Pole! With a couch and a fireplace, all right! And the next thing you're going to tell me is that Father Christmas is living here."
He shot her an innocent look.
"Could be, couldn't it? Isn't it you humans, who are telling stories about him?"
"Yeah, but that's the point, dumbo: stories. They are just stories!"
"Erm …" A cautious finger climbed up its way from behind the armchair, followed by a white-haired head, a red nose and a huge curly beard. "Actually, they are not just stories."
"Oh, and who are you to tell me that?!" Donna demanded.
"Santa Claus, of course! But Father Christmas is OK, too."
Stunned silence followed that statement, just broken by the occasionally crackling of wood in the fire. Finally, Donna exclaimed, even more disbelief in her voice,
"You're kidding me, aren't you?"
"That's what I just wanted to say," the Doctor mumbled.
Donna looked at him.
"Wasn't it you, who said it could be Santa's home, just seconds ago?"
"Yeah, well, that was just … you know …"
"No, I don't."
"Erm," he puffed his cheeks. "Well, I'll have to check some things." And with that he hurried away, gave Donna and the supposed Santa a false grin as he reached the TARDIS doors and disappeared into the ship.
"Hey!" Donna shouted in unison with Santa, who added,
"Is now anyone going to tell me who you are?! And what this … this ugly blue box with its awful noise is doing in me house? How got it 'ere, anyway?"
Donna turned to him, her eyes wide. It was strange, but a real, genuine Father Christmas right here on Earth was far more unsettling than any alien life form ever could be. Which reminded her …
"You're not an evil alien posing as some sort of human, just to turn out to be the scary skin eater from around the corner, are you?"
"What?"
Donna regarded the chubby face a few moments longer, before she decided to take the situation as it was. Or seemed to be, at least.
"I'm Donna, this is the Doctor." She pointed her thump over her shoulder. "And the TARDIS. It's our ship."
Santa's face remained confused as he tried to connect the shape of the telephone box with an imaginary image of how a ship should look like.
"And that thing's able to float?"
"Float? No, you foo–" She interrupted herself, thinking about the well known connection between Santas and presents. "No, it's a spaceship! Must sound a bit bonkers to you, only knowing your elves and toys and …"
"Hey! I ain't been living on another planet, you know! I've seen Star Wars at least fifty times! The old ones, of course." He didn't mention that he couldn't match the box's shape with that one of a space ship, either.
"Ah," Donna faltered, caught wrong-footed.
"Yes!" Already in full flow, he continued, "And now: What are you doing 'ere! You shouldn't even be able to be here! Behind the polar lights and all that – how did you get 'ere?!" He stepped around the chair, moving his considerable girth with enviable elegance, and pointed accusingly at the dark corners of the room. "Your thing has whirled all me paperwork around! How am I going to finish sorting the address and wishing lists? As if I haven't have already enough work to do! And …"
Donna burst into a laugh. She couldn't help herself, but seeing the familiar form of Father Christmas clothed in – even if red – chequered trousers that obviously belonged to pyjamas was too much to take in. Especially with the short-sleeved top that completed them and read, "I am a star!", accompanied by a sweetly smiling strawberry. And the floral bathrobe he was now putting on.
Santa wrinkled his eyebrows irritably.
"What's so funny?!"
"Nothing, really." Donna tried to stop, but her eyes continued to twinkle with amusement.
"Having fun?" The Doctor popped his head through the TARDIS doors, curious.
"No!" Santa exclaimed and planted his hands at his hips. "I wanna know what you're doing-"
"Aw!" the Doctor interrupted and stepped out of the ship, his face alight with excitement. "That should be mine!" He pointed at the pyjamas. "That's so me! Although red's not really my colour, and it should be a banana, of course. But never mind that!" Eager, he turned to Donna. "What do you think? Fetching, eh?"
"Put it on your wishing list." She wasn't sure, if she really had the strength to take in the picture of the Doctor in those childish pyjamas. But he was very determined and had already turned to Santa, again.
"Couldn't you just give me yours? Not at once, of course. Mind you, they could be a bit big for me." Sceptically, he regarded Santa from top to toe, but continued, "Still, nothing a piece of string couldn't fix. What do you think, eh? A bit of an exchange? Dunno, could give you a trip in the TARDIS?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Slowly but surely, Santa's face got a slightly red tinge.
"Exchange?! Had you two one over the eight, or what? Sniffed a pinch over the dose?! I want you the hell outta here. And don't expect me to send you even the hint of a present! – That must be a nightmare!" he moaned. "A horrible delirium. I've told the blessed St. Nicholas he ought not to use the cheap hooch for the mulled wine!"
"Oh," the Doctor looked disappointed. "Did we do something wrong?"
Lost for words, Santa groaned exasperated and threw his arms in the air.
"Hold on," Donna cut in. "Hadn't you wanted to hear what we're doing here? It's a funny thing, you see, because I would've never believed Spaceman here ever could fly his ship without bumping us around like dices in a cup. Wanted a proof. And here we are!" She spread her arms, presenting herself as evidence. "Not even a quiver." She glanced at the Doctor. "Wish he would do that more of–"
"OUT!!" Santa's face showed a remarkable resemblance with the strawberry, now, as he pointed a trembling finger towards the TARDIS. "Out, out, out!"
Donna and the Doctor exchanged astonished looks, not quite understanding why Santa, known as a jolly old man, couldn't enjoy the strange encounter as they did. Well, as they had done to this very second. It appeared as if he was just moments from stamping his foot. Donna gave a shrug and grabbed the Doctor's hand to pull him towards the TARDIS. They certainly had better things to do. Kick some nasty alien's bottom or such. The Doctor cast "his" pyjamas a last suffering look, before he followed her.
"At least, I've fixed the problem that brought us here instead of the really real North Pole," he whispered to Donna. "Imagine we would end up here, again!" He sniffed in mock disdain.
Then they entered the TARDIS, and the Doctor began to power up its machines.
~O~
A tiny whirlwind and a grinding noise announced the arrival of the TARDIS. As usual, it "vworped" its unusual way into existence, just to stand somewhere as if it had never done anything else. The door creaked open, and a skinny man stumbled out, backwards.
"Nononono! I'd fixed that!"
He ruffled his hair as if it would give him a clue what had gone wrong. It didn't work, though. He sighed, throwing a desperate look around. He was standing in a living room with some lovely armchair and couch, a tiny table and a huge fireplace with crackling wood in it. The only thing missing to complete the déjà vu was Father Christmas in his pyjamas.
"That's impossible! What did you do, eh?"
He cast the TARDIS a worried look and stepped closer to run his hand over her wooden framework.
Donna strode through the open doors, a grim expression on her face.
"What did I say about the bumping?! I landed on my backside this time! That's going to hurt for days!" She stopped dead as she got the déjà vu, too. "Why are we here again? I thought you wanted to leave and bring us to Barcelona, instead?"
"Yeah, well, I did."
"And?"
"I don't know!" He ruffled his hair, again. "We moved, we did! So, why are we here again?" Confused, he eyed the room a second time. "Has something changed? Do you see anything weird?"
"What, weirder than a house at the North Pole?"
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "You got a point." He turned back to the TARDIS, eyeing her thoughtfully.
Donna let her view travel around, but the room was exactly as they had left it.
Well, apart from whole loads of paper sheets with cryptic signs scribbled all over them, which were scattered over the furniture and even the carpet. More than she had ever seen in one place, before. And lots of scraps from hasty fast food meals stuffed neatly between them. And a missing Santa, of course. Donna wrinkled her nose in disgust, before she stated the obvious.
"It appears some time has passed, doesn't it?"
The Doctor didn't even look at her. "That's obvious, Donna, thank you."
She knitted her brows, offended.
"Oi! You wanted to know, didn't you!"
Abashed, he stepped back from the TARDIS and turned to give her his full attention.
"Uh, yeah, sorry. Was just … thinking, you know." Then he frowned. "Time has passed? How could that happen? I didn't change the time settings. What date is it?"
Donna rolled her eyes. "D'uh. How should I know? You're the Lord of Time."
The Doctor's lips twitched at that comment. "Yeah, well, I'll have to check some things. And then I'll amaze you with my astonishing powers." He grinned and tried to throw his coat around his left shoulder in a Roman emperor way.
"Oh no! You're not disappearing this time! Just imagine he will come back!" Donna exclaimed, pretending to tremble in horror.
"He?" The Doctor let his coat fall back, confused. "Oh, Santa, yes! But just imagine he will come back and I haven't fixed our problem so that we can magically disappear," he suggested in a stage-voice and waved his hand in a conjuring way like a magician.
"Oh." Donna nodded in understanding. "Well then, hurry up! What are you standing and babbling here for, anyway?"
They shared a grin, before the Doctor entered the TARDIS, again, while Donna started to wander around, curious to explore the home of a child's number one imaginary person. It was boring, though, just the same as her granny's had been. And before she could reach the door to the next room, she nearly slipped on the scraps. Twice. Besides, a heap of wrappings with unidentifiable contents – and she surely didn't want to identify them – the size of her mum's car blocked the path. She shrugged and made her way back, hoping the Doctor would finish his tinkering, soon … why, whom was she fooling, here?! He always needed exactly that amount of time that got them into trouble. Every time precisely just the one essential second too long. To be fair, he also was sharply on time to get them out again – in most cases, anyway –, but it wouldn't surprise her to see Santa stepping in that mentioned second, before the Doctor would shout his "Everything fixed!".
She snorted and undressed her parka. It was definitely way too hot in here. It didn't even feel like the North Pole, but she couldn't expect Santa Claus to live in an igloo, just to give her an impression of a freezing winter, could she? And besides, she didn't even like freezing winters.
By mentioning it: At that very moment, the wooden door slammed open and let a breath of just that freezing winter in.
"Now, that's interesting! I think I know what happened. Donna!" The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and was greeted by the sight of Santa and Donna staring at each other.
"I knew it!" She threw her hands up in exasperation.
The Doctor frowned at her, confused, before he offered Santa – this time in his regular working uniform – his usual cheerful salute, "Erm, hello! I'm the Doctor, sorry to interrupt you. We haven't met, yet, have we? Well, actually, we have, but not properly. No shaking hands, patting shoulders …"
"It's you, again!" Santa got his bearings, and his cheeks began to turn red.
"Where did I hear that before? Anyway, yes, it's me, hello. Meet Donna. Say hello, Donna."
"What are you doing in me house, once more? Dear Heavens! …"
"No shouting, please." The Doctor sighed. "I can't bear it. And I can't answer your question, either. Well, possibly I could, but you wouldn't understand. Was some sort of … incident."
"You mean accident." Donna groaned and rubbed her lower back in remembrance.
"Nah, incident. But how about we're off, and you do … whatever it was you were doing? Come on, Donna."
"NO!" Santa shouted and lunged at the Doctor, wrapping his arms tightly around him.
Donna gave a high-pitched noise of shock as they both stumbled past her in a blur. No, in a manic dance.
"You're so not leaving! Oh, heaven must have sent you!"
"What?!"
He lifted the Doctor in a last powerful embrace, which made him choke, from the ground, before he put him back and grabbed his hand to shake it violently.
"Oh, hello, dear Doctor. Pleased to meet you. Very pleased, indeed! And you," he turned to Donna and grabbed her hand, too.
She exchanged an astonished look with the Doctor, but before anyone of them could say anything, Santa began to bubble words like a spring, waving his hand in frenzy and leaping around like mad.
"It must be Christmas! – Well, technically speaking that's tomorrow and that would be too late, anyway. I mean, Christmas Eve is today! Today!! Thought I would die with what had happened, but now it surely must be the best day in me life. I was hoping, I was praying. I was even listening to Nicholas! Oh, you wouldn't believe the day I had! The days, to be precise. Again! I mean, there was this nightmare a couple years ago, where everything went wrong – not to mention last year, when all the presents vanished. Nearly got a heart attack, then! So, that was why I was a bit, er, nervous when you first popped in. Sorry for that, folks. I went mad, but my nerves are on edge, since that year."
"Er …"
"All the elves gone sick, my lovely car crashed to scrap – poor ol' Lady –, the sleigh smashing all the presents and no reindeer in sight before schedule to help me. Poor old me! Left alone by all those lazy wannabe Christmas helpers. Any hired exchange gnome would've done better!"
"Sor–"
"But then! 'Kawoosh'!* Helpers out of nowhere! At the very last second. And now you're here! Oh, there must be some Good Spirit keeping watch over let down Santas. Mind you, he loves trying me, badgering me! I surely could do without that. But never mind, I can barely believe the luck that saves me from another heart attack!"
"If I …"
"Would have never believed a December like that could happen again, but here we are! Same old story. Look at me, I'm devastated!"
"Yea–"
"I should have known, though, since creepy alien ships already freaked out my reindeers last year. And the year before! Nearly got caught in a sticky star above London! How weird's that? We're talking London, 'ere! London! What's a space star to do above this venerable city?
"Erm …"
"And now they don't dare to turn up again for fear something like that could happen again. How am I going to ride my sleigh without reindeers? And don't suggest there might be other draft animals! I've already done this! Was another nail in me coffin. And don't think that's all! No, guess what happened as the warranty for my toy manufacture expired."
"Well …"
"It lasted for two-hundred years, so one would assume another century or two might do no difference, but no! How could I think so! Just the month it expired, the roof collapsed and buried half the output. Luckily, no elf got hurt. They had to pull double-shifts, now, to compensate the loss."
"…"
"And now I'm sitting here on a huge pile of presents with no means to deliver them. Tried the postal service, though, but they refused to pop by. Not to mention the horrendous shipping costs. What were they going to do with 'em? Engage a princess to deliver them in person and wrapped in gold? Could buy the whole planet with them! Not that I would want to. Too busy, too noisy. I'm far better off, here. So, what's your plan to help me?"
They were lost for words. Astonished. Staring open-mouthed.
"And?" Father Christmas enquired, looking at them expectantly.
~O~
"I can't believe I'm doing this!" The Doctor sounded almost whining and kept his hands away from his body as if he was wearing something poisonous.
Donna grinned gloatingly.
"It was your ship that thought it should follow some strange mental cry for help and brought us here, so it's your turn. Besides, it's a guy's job, only."
"Surely, there will be some heavenly messenger, angel, snow princess or such you could play."
"Uh-uh." Donna folded her arms and shook her head. "No way, sunshine."
"Oh, this will be going quite well. We even look alike!" Santa said with conviction and pointed at the red, white-cuffed coat and trousers the Doctor was wearing.
"Yeah, the same way as Laurel and Hardy did," Donna remarked dryly.
The Doctor looked at Santa's glorious plump features and then let his eyes travel down his own appearance.
"Oi!" he exclaimed, offended, getting which part in the Laurel and Hardy stuff was his to play. "We look more like-" He interrupted himself, swallowing his tongue.
"More like what?" asked Donna, amused.
"Erm." He scratched his sideburn uncomfortably. Or tried it. The false beard was getting in the way. "I was going to say more like Pinky and the Brain, but somehow I assume that won't make any difference. Well," he changed his mood from upset to cheerful, "at least Hardy could use his fingers as a lighter. Just like so!" And he snipped his fingers in a motion as if he was holding one. Nothing happened.
"Very convincing," Donna nodded.
"Well, I am not Hardy, am I?" He raised his eyebrow in mocking triumph.
Donna could just roll her eyes.
"Yes, you're not, genius."
"Genius! That's me!" Grinning and with a burst of excitement, the Doctor leaped to the TARDIS controls. "Let's surprise some kids!" He released the handbrake, and the TARDIS jumped into the Time Vortex, carrying a countless number of presents in her endless corridors and rooms, which she had enveloped with her dimensional translucent features earlier.
Epilogue
They stood at the open TARDIS doors and watched Santa Claus dancing his way over to his house. He had been so excited about their mission, it took hours for him to leave. Every five minutes, he had assured them how happy he was, how relaxing this Christmas Eve had been – a time machine definitely got its pros – and had shaken their hands for the umpteenth time. But finally he'd left. Donna and the Doctor smiled after him.
As the Doctor turned and slowly strode back to the console, he discovered a small, flat packet on it. Surprised, he recognized it was addressed to him. He opened the present and found neatly folded pyjamas within, brown striped with a yellow, shining, broadly grinning banana on it. And a saying that read, "I am a genius". The Doctor blushed.
Merry Christmas to you all