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The Strange Case of the Missing Memories

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Poetry

This story is No. 1 in the series "Anya and Tara's 'Mystic Mamas Detective Agency'". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: Having become partners in business as well as in life after things went AU in Season 6, Anya and Tara face their first case as supernatural detectives: the missing memories and strange symptoms of one Donna Noble. An adventure in bad verse.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Dr. Who/Torchwood > Tara-CenteredRevDorothyLFR71744124938 Jan 128 Jan 12Yes
ANYA AND TARA'S MYSTIC MAMAS DETECTIVE AGENCY AND THE STRANGE CASE OF THE MISSING MEMORIES
(written in August 2008 as a birthday gift for Keswindhover, who was understandably discontented by the disposition of Donna Noble's character at the end of Dr. Who season 4).

Disclaimer: I do not own BtVS or Doctor Who, and I make no money from writing bad rhymes about their beloved supporting characters.

Author's Note: In this bit of doggerel I’m shamelessly ripping off (with permission!) some of the characterization and plot developments in MissMurchison's Tara/Anya stories on LJ, 'Resistance is Useless' and 'Sitting on the Dock of eBay', at the end of which Anya is intrigued by the money to be made in criminal investigations and bounty-hunting.

In this alternate BtVS universe of MissMurchison's creation, Anya and Tara had become a romantic couple shortly after the abortive wedding in season 6, and so this poem is set sometime in what would have been their AU season 7, perhaps.

Warning: This poem may contain slight spoilers for Dr. Who season four finale, as well as numerous insults to rhyme scheme, meter, and anything remotely resembling literary taste.



Anya and Tara's 'Mystic Mamas Detective Agency' and the Strange Case of the Missing Memories:


'Twas stormy, and the night was dark

in Sunnydale, CA,

When Anya and Tara began a lark,

seldom mentioned to this day.



The Magic Box was quiet and still

after a hard day’s capitalism,

while the money nestled safe in its till,

close to the proprietor’s loving bosom.



Suddenly through the shop’s doorway,

a trench-coated woman flounced.

Her hair was auburn and her eyes intense,

as, “I need a witch,” she announced.



“My name’s Donna Noble, temp extraordinaire,

And I don’t have time for your slacking.

Your internet ad led me here to your lair,

to get back the memories I’m lacking.”



Tara winced just a bit as Donna’s problem was named --

her own sore spot, even now –

but her manner was kind as she firmly declaimed,

“There’s no witch here, only—OW!”



“Sorry I pinched you,” Anya told Tara contritely,

“But Miss Noble is not here by chance.

Our detective business is new, so we can’t turn clients down lightly.

And besides, she paid in advance!



“Now, Donna, tell us what you know, how you first came to sense

all those times you forgot you’d forgotten.

Do you suspect a bad spell? Maybe by some witch too dense

to know what they’ve done to you is rotten?”



Over cookies and tea among the dried herbs and incense,

Donna told of her life ordinary,

How she’d always tuned out the ‘big picture’ events,

all the world-shakers, brilliant or scary.



But just lately, she’d found many months that were gone,

while the world had spun on, all unheeding.

“And there’s worse yet to come,” Donna added, looking wan,

“I could swear I hear a second heart beating!



“I suddenly know things I shouldn’t, all kinds of weird maths

and stories that have yet to be written.

At work, I’m Miz Fix-it, and at home I chart paths

for stars not visible from Britain!”



“We need to confer,” said Tara (‘the sane one,’

as Donna had thought all along),

“Your case is . . . unusual. A hard-to-explain one,

but I don’t think this will take us too long.”



In the back of the shop, the partners spoke in a hush,

quietly putting the pieces together.

When they’d agreed on a solution, they came back in a rush,

knowing Donna was at the end of her tether.



“It’s nothing to worry about,” said Tara, “We’ve seen this before –

Well, maybe not this exactly, but nearly!

Your aura’s so dazzling, I should have guessed when you came in the door,

but I guess I wasn’t seeing you clearly.”



“You’re not human,” added Anya, “or you weren’t to start.

You’ve joined this existence as a gift.

That’s why your memories don’t match, and you’re growing a spare heart,

All symptoms of a recent reality shift.



“We’ve had several . . . friends who’ve run the same course --

or something quite like it, I assure you!

Whatever you were until lately – whether demon or green, mystical force –

You’re human now, and no one can cure you!”



“What Anya means,” Tara amended, “is that you’re here to do good

-- I can tell that much just from your spirit.

Your older memories may be fake, so you’d blend in where you could

with humanity, but you shouldn’t fear it.



“The memories you make after this, they’re all up to you,

And don’t let anyone dare tell you otherwise!

You could save the world, Donna, by something brilliant you do.

So heed your gramps, and don’t worry, mother-wise.”



Tara’s words were so firm and her eyes seemed so knowing,

that inevitably Donna’s hope gained re-birth.

As she returned home the next day, Donna knew she was going

to enjoy her new life on this strange planet earth.

The End

You have reached the end of "The Strange Case of the Missing Memories". This story is complete.

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