This is my first Doctor Who fic. Obviously I don't own the characters and I am not affiliated with the show in any way, other than being a fangirl.
"Molto bene."
"Molto bene."
"No. Don't do that. Don't… Don't…"
The TARDIS seemed to know that the Doctor wasn't in the mood to play around. It usually took him a dozen attempts to get the old girl parked in the time vortex; she - like him - never wanted to just relax. But as soon as his long fingers wrapped around the lever, they were off into endless silence.
Donna stood awkwardly behind him, mindlessly watching the slender man slap a switch, or spin a knob. He wasn't smiling, or hopping about the console. For the first time in all of the time she knew him, he looked his age.
Maybe it was his eyes - so big and blank. If you looked closely, you could almost always see a brilliant shimmer deep in his pupils. Like a light, burning brilliantly in his mind. Now, Donna noted, it seemed as if the previous tenants had packed up and left, leaving his head empty and dark.
Maybe it was his face - pale and gaunt. There wasn't as much as a ghost of the grins he usually wore; his lips were drawn in a tight line, as if opening them would mean death.
In all of two hours, The Doctor went from being a nine-year-old exploring the galaxy to a nine hundred-year-old burdened with the galaxy.
"So…" Donna began, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, "why don't I put the kettle on, and you and me could have a nice cup of tea and some biscuits, yeah?"
The Doctor didn't respond.
"Spaceman, are you listening? Helloooooooo," the redhead reached out, the tip of her finger crashing into the bony ribs of the Time Lord.
"Hmmm? Oh uh, no thanks. I think I'll just go to bed. It's been a long day," he sputtered, refusing to keep eye contact. He went to make a move, but Donna stepped in front of her, letting her hands rest on his arms.
"Forget out the tea, how about some hot coco? Would that change your mind?"
"I don't think so, Donna. Goodnight..."
The Doctor left her all alone in a spaceship that in so many ways was her home. A slow, sad stroke of the railing caused the machine to hum, showing its appreciation to the companion.
"I don't know what to do…" she whispered, though it wasn't meant to be one. It seemed as if she couldn't speak, her throat burned with tears she refused to let fall. What could she do? The Doctor was a complicated man; strong yet broken, composed but a complete wreck. He did a good job being strong for those who needed it…. But no one was ever strong for him.
Defeated after receiving no help from the TARDIS, Donna made the short journey to her bedroom. Despite not having eaten (she had been saving her appetite for her dinner date with The Doctor), she felt nothing but knots and twists in her stomach. A simple mood change in her best friend shouldn't have upset her so, but it did. It felt as if everything he experienced poured directly into her emotion control center, causing the circuit boards to go haywire.
It took a lot to see The Doctor get angry, so what evil had he faced made him so utterly disappointed in the human race?
As soon as Donna opened her bedroom door, she was greeted with a chilling gust of air. She shivered, going directly for the thermostat. It was just as she left it.
Figuring that the TARDIS was going maintenance or something equally weird for a ship to do on its own, the woman changed into her sleepwear. A simple pair of cotton pajama bottoms of a deep violet, and a white t-shirt. After a quick brushing of her hair and teeth, Donna was ready to put an end to her day.
The covers seemed to be made of ice. No matter how many times Donna rearranged herself under the covers, or tucked every inch of skin beneath her over sized comforter, she was still freezing.
"Can I get some heat in here, please?" Donna called, more than a hint of annoyance evident in her tone.
Nothing.
With a loud grumble, the ginger sat up, facing the wall before connecting her fist with the concrete repeatedly.
"I'm freezing to death! H-E-A-T, humans need it!"
The door cracked open.
Donna whipped around, making sure to grab her over sized blanket as she headed out of the bed and into the hall. She was greeted with darkness, except for a soft glow coming from the room down the hall, the last one of the left.
The Doctor's room.
Donna rolled here eyes, though it was more at herself than anything. It was obvious what The Doctor's machine was trying to do. She knew her Doctor was upset, and she knew that Donna always made him feel better. But there are just some things that a joke or two can't fix.
"I see what you're trying to do…" Donna said softly; calmly. The TARDIS replied with a single gust of warm air, causing her skin to tingle with anticipation. There was no way she was going back into that freezing room.
She rapped at his bedroom door, and was greeted with nothing but silence.
Donna cracked open the door, peering in. The lights were off (then what the hell was that light I just saw) but she could make out the outline of her friends body. His head was practically buried in the comforter, leaving nothing but his unruly, ridiculous hair poking out.
"Doctor?"
It took a few seconds for him to respond. He sat up, rubbing his eyes as if she had just woken him up from a deep slumber. She decided not to call him out on it.
"Yes, Donna?"
"Something freaky is going on with the TARDIS, my room is an iceberg!"
For a moment, Donna thought she saw a flash of disappointment cross his features. Just as he started to get up, she darted towards his bed and jumped on, settling down with a few bounces next to him.
"It's too late for you to be tinkering around with it, seeing how it always ends in an explosion of some sort. Make room! Jeeze, for a skinny little thing you sure do take up a lot of space!" Donna grinned sheepishly, shifting a bit so she could face him. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she noticed that his were still lifeless and big.
Reflectively, she reached out to frame his face. Her thumb gently strokes the length of his cheekbone, and her smile melted into pity. His pain made her own heart ache. She wished she could just take it all away, if only for a second. But she'd seen what he was burdened with, and it was horrible. The saddest song in the history of sad songs, and he carried it with him, as well as the screams of his race. He held time in his hands, cradling it like a child, loving it despite its flaws and imperfections. A man so generous should never have to deal with defeat or despair.
"Donna…" he began, but that was all he needed. For her to stay silent.
Donna closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his torso before pulling him into her body. She sought his warmth as if it were an antidote to her chilled bones, nudging his head into her neck as she pressed her lips to his temple. Her fingers ran through his hair, while her other hand rubbed large, soothing circles into his back.
She felt hot tears against her skin, but ignored them for the sake of his pride.
"I'm here…" she breathed, fighting back her own.
"And I always will be."