A/N: This is my first fanfic in so many years... Anyway, it was just an idea that popped into my head and I wanted to share it so please let me know! It's a oneshot, I took a little bit of inspiration from Margaret Atwood's poem Bored... Enjoy!
Donna closes her eyes. Visiting hours are over, and she senses the end is near. While it would have been nice to have her children – her sweet daughter and her dashing son – with her at the end, she cherishes this little bit of silence in her last hours. She is content with being able to reflect calmly and in solitude.
I've had a good life, she thinks. I had a loving husband, wonderful children and grandchildren. I had the best granddad.
She smiles a long, sad smile to herself.
Despite the fullness of her life and all the love she has for all the people in it, she can't help but feel like something is missing. She feels like she's missing a whole year or two of her life, lost somewhere in translation.
She dismisses the feeling, believing it to be something that comes with one's dying breaths.
She's happy, she thinks. Her life was filled with hardships but she has a happy life. She had fallen into depression after Wilfred passed, but Shaun had held her hand through it all. After her husband's death, Donna's son begged her to live with him and his family. And although Donna enjoyed the company of her son, his wife and their children, she was rarely ever left alone and that was why she didn't mind her secluded time in the hospital.
Donna hears the sound of footsteps outside her door. They are frantic – strange for this time of the evening. She glances at the window once more to see a sun about to set. It must be about 5pm.
The footsteps gradually increase in volume. Donna is confused; she thinks nurses don't walk like that, and there are rarely any nurses in this wing at this time. Someone's time must have come.
Suddenly, a young brunette woman bursts into the room. She is breathless and has obviously been running. The woman is pretty – big brown eyes that seem bottomless, full pink lips that are perfectly poised in a breathless smile, cheeks flushed with pink from running, soft brown hair cascading to her chest. She is dressed as if she is from 2012, Donna thinks. How strange.
The woman pauses to catch her breath, bent at her hip and hands on her knees. "D… Do…" she tries to stagger out a phrase, only managing to stutter fragments as she tries to regain a steady pulse.
"What can I do for you, dear?"
Years have passed since Donna has had to mother to her children, but she feels the need to assist those who need help in any way she can. She has an instinct to be kind to everyone, to give everyone a chance. Donna doesn't remember having this in her youthful days and briefly ponders the source of this instinct, but dismisses the thought.
"Donna Noble?" the woman finally manages to say, her breath spent.
"Temple-Noble, actually. But yes, I am she." The strength in Donna's voice surprises her. I thought I had minutes left. Perhaps I have, in fact, a few hours…
The woman grins from ear to ear and ducks out of the room in the same instant. Strange, Donna thinks. But she doesn't give it more thought; she immediately returns to her meditative state.
She is not left in peace for long, however, because the woman returns with a man not a moment later.
The man is a foot taller than the woman but still not particularly tall himself. He has brown hair, longish at the front but currently windswept, brown eyes and a remarkable chin. He wears black trousers, a purplish suit jacket and a waistcoat, complete with pocket watch, to match. What's most peculiar about his attire is his bowtie, which he self-consciously stops to adjust when he enters the room.
When he first lays his eyes on Donna, he grins.
"Donna Noble. The most important woman in all of creation. How are you?"
"I'm sorry?" Donna tilts her head in confusion.
He clasps his hand over his face, as if he is meeting his favourite celebrity. "How I've missed you Donna. I'm so sorry, I heard tonight was your last and I wanted to come and see you one last time. I hope you'll forgive me."
She is still confused by the time he walks over to her and makes to place both hands on her face. Before he does, though, she is able to look into his eyes. What she sees scares her – the man looks young, not more than 28, but look deep enough and his eyes are appear so aged that they look over a thousand years old. The eyes look familiar, too familiar almost. The man notices this and smiles once again, which softens his eyes. Donna relaxes and he places the tips of his fingers on her temples.
A whole life flashes before her eyes. It's a life filled with adventure, with strange creatures, strange places. Red-eyed creatures with tentacles instead of a mouth, little blobs of fat waving, cylindrical metal creatures with menacing weapons for arms, humanoid fish creatures, an enormous wasp, giants made of rock, deadly shadows. Worlds of diamonds, worlds of snow, worlds of war, worlds of fire, worlds of books. The life Donna sees is one in which a tall, skinny man in a trench coat travels with a red-headed woman and saves countless lives, countless worlds.
The life she sees before her eyes is her own.
She remembers. She remembers everything. She remembers the two years of her life spent with the Doctor, she remembers the adventures, the friendship, they shared.
She also remembers why she couldn't travel with him forever.
Not even half a moment has passed since the bowtied man has restored her memories. Donna finds herself releasing tears, tears of all emotions, as she remembers her complete life and finally recognises the eyes staring into hers.
"Doctor," she whispers, half-choked through tears and smiles, overcome with emotions. "You've found me."
The Doctor can hardly hold back a tear or two of his own. "Yes, Donna. I'm here. And this time I won't leave you."
The Doctor sits on the edge of Donna's bed, recounting briefly his last few hundred years since they last met. He is more interested in Donna, though, and although he has kept his eye on her over the years he urges her to tell him about her life. Her keepsakes, her minutiae.
"I'm happy you're not travelling alone, Doctor."
He glances at Clara, who has been watching from the armchair in the corner, mesmerised with Donna. He remembers her saying of all the adventures he has told her about, his adventures with Donna were the most exciting.
"Clara is a pleasure to be with," he states, smiling broadly at his companion.
"But it is such an honour to meet you, Mrs. Temple-Noble," Clara pronounces timidly. Her cheeks flush slightly.
Donna knows the look in both pairs of eyes and smiles warmly at the two of them. "Make sure you don't get too tired of the running!" The trio laugh.
Her smile fades, as she realises it's time to go.
The Doctor notices this, glancing at his watch. His eyes become sad, filled with longing and regret.
She recognises this look. "You knew you wouldn't be able to do anything, Doctor. It is my time, now."
A tear rolls down his cheek. "Tell me again. Were you happy?"
"The happiest I could have ever been." She smiles. "And now that you've filled in the rest of my memories, I don't think there is a being in the universe that could be happier than I."
He laughs a little bit. "You never told me how Harvey Wallbanger is one word."
She manages a short chuckle. "Thank you, Doctor. For everything. You gave me time and space, a lifetime of happiness both with you and with my family. But now, you must go. Onwards, as we always must."
"Onwards?" he asks, trying to mask his pain.
"Onwards," she replies. And with that, Donna closes her eyes.
She never opens them again.
They wait a long while before they leave. When Clara feels that another minute of this room will drive him mad, it is well past midnight. She walks over to the Doctor, plants a kiss on his forehead and pulls him up from the bed. She grasps his hands in hers, walking him to their little blue box – his snogbox – where the TARDIS takes them to a small ceremony in a bright cemetery.
When the group has gone, she pulls him to the newly lain tombstone. It reads, 'Donna Temple-Noble. Loving wife, mother and granddaughter. The most important woman in all of creation.'
He manages a sad half-smile.
"Onwards?" he asks.
"Onwards," she replies.
Yes, I do ship Eleven/Clara. Just thought since I'd included Clara in this fic I'd give her a little bigger role.