Angst-now with plot!

I should very much be working on my summer homework, but I decided to start a new fanfiction instead! :D Ain't I a stinker?

Okay, but seriously, this is a bit angsty. It's about-well, you'll see, won't you?

Usual deal: reviews or cookies. GOOD cookies. Fresh out of the oven, chocolate chip, so melty I just want to live inside that cookie for the rest of my entire existence, devouring every tasty morsel and with each swallow my need for cookies growing greater and more deadly, until finally I snap and I-

On second thought, reviews may be safer.


Donna Noble considered herself to be a particularly brave person.

She wasn't fearless. She was as human as the next girl—on Earth, at least. That might've made her laugh, one day a long, long time past. A lot of things could make her laugh.

Her Doctor. Her Doctor could make her laugh.

She searched deep within her heart to find him—that was her only refuge anymore, deep within herself. There was no light in her prison, not enough to see the dull, faded brown of her hair. Not enough, if she was offered a mirror, to see her gaunt face and her sunken eyes.

The door to her prison opened once every few days—at least, she supposed days passed. And then, sometimes it felt like moments.

She would've laughed at that, as well.

The door would open and scraps of food would be dropped before her waiting hands. She would lift the entire pile to her face, swallowing without reservation every bit of the flavorless grub.

This would happen twice; the next time the door would open, two human men in gray uniforms would enter, throw a bag over her head, and push her through twisting hallways, until at last she would be picked up and set upon some sort of table. There, needles were jabbed into her arms and she would fight—oh, she would fight and her Doctor would be proud of her for it. She would kick and struggle, those first times, until the use of leather straps was applied, securing her for so long as she was poked and prodded.

Then, it was back to her prison of darkness.

She returned, in her mind, to those tiresome, glorious days of living at home, peeved with her Mum and conspiring with her Granddad, and then Shaun…they had a house picked out. She held her breath and envisioned them there, in that gorgeous house, with perhaps a few kids running about. Half a dozen. Nineteen. One. She didn't care.

Then, she remembered the Doctor.

She remembered, how she remembered that spectacular man. She remembered his bright eyes and his ringing laugh, and his hair, that mad, ruffled hair, and…she remembered his sadness when Jenny was killed. She remembered how he had clung to her after Midnight, and how terrified she had been that anything could scare him so much. She remembered the tears that sparkled in his eyes as he took her memories, everything that was good about her, and forced them to the tiniest corner of her mind.

How quickly that part of herself had surfaced in this prison—and yet here she was, the blood pounding in her ears proof of her existence.

She was alive.

For that, she had run out of tears. She was alive, and she could remember, but memories did nothing but cut away at her heart. She imagined death would be a gentler feeling.

Alive shouldn't have been sad. Breathing should have been a miracle.

She didn't know how long it went on. She lost count of the times she was made a pincushion for any sort of drips and needles. Her screams had died long ago; the pain began to linger after the procedure, until it was a constant fact rather than a distressing attack. She kept her heart upon the Doctor, that mad spaceman…her spaceman. What would he have her do? Discover what was at the heart of things.

She could discover nothing in the darkness.

She fought, she fought like she had never done before. If she couldn't fight for something important, she'd fight for the only thing she could: her own life.

The Doctor would call that important.

One time, the door opened.

She sat there on the floor, staring at the space before her hands. When no food appeared, she looked up in confusion. There stood not a man, but a woman. A woman wearing an eyepatch.

"Get up," the woman ordered coldly.


Le GASP!

Reviews are simply ADORED. Just like I adore you, my darlings!

XOXO,

Bella