Title: Because Memories Never Forget
Word Count: 2,933
Spoilers: Based on the Episode b "The Doctor's Daughter", Episode #6 of Series #4 b of the newest version of "Doctor Who", written by Stephen Greenhorn. Directed by Alice Traughton, Produced by Phil Collinson and Executive Producers, Russell T Davies & Julie Gardner.
Summary: "Time mattered; it was precious and fleeting. Only to the Doctor, time was everywhere and nowhere, everything and nothing." After Jenny, Donna notices the Doctor displaying some odd behavior. I was inspired to write this after watching a very moving missing scene that would have taken place towards (or at) the end of "The Doctor's Daughter", which is included in this story.
Rating: A solid T for Teen.
Disclaimer: If I owned "Doctor Who" my student loans would all have been paid by now and rent would be insignificant. Thank you Russell T. Davies and Co. for bringing us this wonderful show! TL;DR: iI Solemnly Swear that I do *not* own!i
Author's Note: Feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome by this fanfic author. Any suggestions as to how to make this story better (i.e. if characterization seems a bit off, do tell me) are highly appreciated. Suggestions for any future story ideas are welcome also from Dr. Who fans! (Please know that I like short character pieces, perhaps episode filler, such as the one below...nothing fancy, I'm not Doctor Who am I?)
How fantastically different it was to be happyi, thought Donna Noble, as she followed the Doctor back to the TARDIS. They had just left Martha Jones and were alone again once more, and she was ready to embark on the next big adventure. It would be just Donna and the Doctor, and nobody else in between.
She tried not to think of Jenny, who would have been the second companion, if she had not taken that bullet for the Doctor, saving his life. She wondered what could possibly be going through the Doctor's mind, having met a cloned being that was half-Time Lord, half-human, and his last flesh and blood. He'd gotten only a few hours to know her, and she had been relieved when, finally, he started to see her as a living being, and not just a carbon copy of his DNA, constructed to be a fighting machine by the humans on Messaline. In just a few hours, he'd fallen in love with her as though he'd known her from birth, and had watched Jenny with pride as she'd fought valiantly alongside them both against the Hath. She was intelligent, thoughtful, and acrobatic; full of life, and it was hard to believe that she had only been "born" just a few hours previous. And now, she was dead...yet another needless, tragic victim of war; though she found some consolation in knowing that the Doctor was safe because of her.
The Doctor, much to her surprise, seemed to have recovered from the whole ordeal in just a short span of time. She stood by patiently as he bid Martha Jones a happy "Goodbye" before leading Donna back to the TARDIS. Once inside, she skipped happily over to him, eager to go wherever their desires took them. "So! Where to next, Spaceman?" It was a favorite question for them both, and she waited in anxious anticipation for the answer.
However, the Doctor suddenly seemed much more interested in the TARDIS' console than with planning their next trip, and seemed not to have heard her at all.
Donna frowned in confusion; this was not like him at all. Whenever they were about to take off for uncharted territory, he was like a giddy child on Christmas morn. Instead, he was staring down at the console and fiddling with the knobs as though he'd never seen them before. The look on his face was blank and aimless.
"Oi! Spaceman? Where to next, yeah?" Donna goaded, trying to snap him out of this unusual, uncharacteristical funk. She didn't want to admit it, but his silence was scaring her. Something was wrong.
Finally, he looked at her, but his eyes only lingered upon her briefly; his voice monotone, and strange. "Home," said the Doctor with an unusually solemn finality that she wasn't used to, "I'm taking you home."
With that he returned his attention right back to the console and without explanation, leaving Donna incredulous. "Excuse me? Home?! You've got to be kidding!" she spat out vehemently, knowing she sounded like a childish brat, but she didn't care. She might have even stamped her foot in protest. Who did he think he was!? He couldn't do this to her!
"Hey there Mister! I'm not done with you yet," she declared, refusing to let him get off so easily. They had already been through so much, and now, he just wanted to drop her off like some overloaded piece of luggage? No siree! Determined now, she stalked headstrong towards him. "Don't think I'm going to just let you make a momentous decision like that and get away with it!" she hissed, daring to look him dead center in the eyes. "If you think I would, then you haven't met Donna Noble." Pleased with his non-committal response, she pushed forth, adding sternly, "You better think this thing through: and rest assured, mister, that you won't find a better companion than me."
"I'm sorry, but this decision is non-negotiable, and you are going home." He spoke as though he were reading a cue card and she suddenly had to resist the urge to smack him. Didn't he know who he was talking to? She was Donna, his friend, Donna Noble, "Partner in Crime", companion and defender. He might as well have been talking to a stranger.
"Doctor," Donna insisted, blinking back unexpected tears, her voice pleading in spite of herself, "Can't you look at me?"
He simply stared down at the console, and the silence between them made Donna feel suddenly sickened with fear. What had happened to her Doctor? Her fearless Time Lord, the one that let nothing get in his way? The longer the silence lasted, the less she could bear, and finally Donna could take it no longer. Reaching out, she gripped his shoulders, hard. "Hey Spaceman, look at me! I know you, yeah? You and me, together against the world, just the Doctor and Donna Noble! I've seen you through the thick and thin! Remember Atmos? And Pompeii?"
All the while she challenged him, he was trying desperately to release her hold on him but she wouldn't relent. "Please stop-" he choked out, but Donna, determined now more than ever, kept going.
"And that lunatic madwoman Miss Foster!?" Donna was nearly laughing with pride as she remembered their silly encounters. "Can you imagine if we hadn't stopped her? Or those crazy marshmallowy little blobby guys, what were their names?! Goodness me, wasn't that a ride!"
"Stop it, will you, will you please, just, stop!" His voice had risen to an almost hysterical shout and with a force she wasn't prepared for he tore away from her, nearly knocking her off balance in the process. He turned away from her again, but Donna knew she couldn't give up, not now, not ever.
"Don't do this, Doctor," she said, gritting her teeth as she strode promptly towards him. "Don't forget all we've been through! We still have a whole lifetime of adventures ahead of us-"
An unearthly groan of disgusted contempt erupted at once from within the Doctor's core, and in his eyes there lived something that she couldn't define; something she had never seen before. "See, that's where you're wrong," he hissed, forcing her to double backwards with each step towards her that he took, "you have a lifetime. I have eternity." He was practically stalking towards her now, his voice dangerously teetering on the edge, and Donna felt herself shaking, shrinking inside; never in a million years had she expected such rage to be directed towards her. Maybe a Dalek, but never to her.
"Do you know what it's like to outlive everyone you've ever known?" he demanded, incredulous, voice nearly shaking with unrestrained fury, and she jumped back at the unexpected fever pitch of his voice, filled with utter shock at the sudden stranger before her. "Everyone you've ever cared for? Maybe even….even…loved ?" Before she could say a word in response, he stormed straight for the TARDIS console and, as she watched helplessly, he kicked it, hard. It must have hurt, but he didn't even wince; undeterred, the Doctor continued, his voice wracked with disgust. "No," he answered for himself before she had even had a chance, "you wouldn't, couldn't, possibly know what it's like. Because you aren't me."
Seemingly spent, he leaned heavily against the console, his body nearly trembling with exhaustion and pain, and she wanted to run to him, to comfort him, but Donna knew she had to stay put. She'd never seen the Doctor lose his cool like that; it simply wasn't his way. He weathered the storm like a seasoned soldier, someone who had lived through the war, seen life and death, and lived to tell the tale. Except, she was beginning to see that even eternity came with a price, and that price was loneliness. In the end, it was only the Doctor, because everyone else was long dead and buried, and what did it matter if he'd saved them a million times over?
Because it mattered. Time mattered; it was precious and fleeting. Only to the Doctor, time was everywhere and nowhere, everything and nothing. And the thought of his losing faith that he truly made a difference by his mere existence, that the Universe could go on without him, broke Donna's heart. Oh Doctor, she thought, if only you knew what it was like be mortal, to know that every day we have is a gift and that not everyone expects saving. He had saved so many lives that it was like breathing, but with each life saved, he lost a piece of his soul to the Universe. Always running, he never stopped, because stopping would be the end of Time for everyone else except his own.
Donna struggled to speak through her tears. "Doctor-"
"You're the last one." His arms were hugging his chest, avoiding her face even as she tried to search him with her imploring gaze, yearning to find the Doctor she knew, the Doctor she loved, her best friend, still in there somewhere. "The last of them all," the Doctor said with grave finality. "Excuse me," he said, voice cracking with each word before he strode past her without a glance.
He exited without a word through the console room doors that led away from reality and into the greater expanse of the TARDIS, and Donna watched him go, horrified at what had just taken place, not even understanding it all. What should she do? Scream out "Doctor" at the top of her lungs and demand him to come back? Follow him and tell him that he was acting like a child? Leave without saying goodbye? Her house was all the way on the other side of London and she didn't feel like taking a cab; she was all out of money anyway. She couldn't stop the tears then; they slid down her cheeks like rain. Helpless, she sank to the floor of the TARDIS, staring at the shut doors, and sobbed like a baby until she had no tears left.
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The Doctor had paced back and forth along the seemingly endless TARDIS corridors almost longer than he could stand to listen to the sound of his own breath. Except he couldn't face Donna Noble, not after how he'd behaved. Would she even listen? He'd acted like a child, basically threw a tantrum, and all in front of her, a woman that he highly respected. What would she think of him now? How could he face her ever again? There was a rule amongst Time Lords: don't show weakness. Well, this was one rule he'd broken, among many other rules he'd tried-and failed-to keep throughout the centuries. He could only imagine where she must be now; she'd probably already fled back home, and he couldn't blame her one bit for doing so.
At last he found himself standing in the heart of the TARDIS, the console room, and he wasn't the least bit surprised to find it empty. Disappointed, surely, but mostly in himself. It was times like these he wished he could go back and rewrite his own wrongs, but Time and the Universe had rules against things like that. He had already made one exception at Pompeii, which was, needless to say, a gargantuan disaster. There was no way he could fool the TARDIS into going back an hour in his own timeline and right this wrong; so many other wrongs were so much worse. All this wrong had done was cost him Donna Noble.
He scanned the controls, wondering if he should just leave for whatever destination the TARDIS desired, when his eyes alighted upon a sheet of paper lying in between several buttons, practically glowing in the soft green light.
The Doctor's hearts thumped wildly in his chest as he took the paper in his hands, noticing at once Donna's scriptive, easy-to-read handwriting.
Hey Spaceman.
No, I didn't go home….just went out for a walk to clear my head. It's been a long day and we're both tired. I was quite impressed by the umph of your little tirade, but know you're not getting rid of me that easy….you're my Doctor, after all!
And I know that this day has been quite a tough one for you. Traumatic thing it is, losing a child, and I remember what you said about being a father once before….And while I can't say that I know what it's like to lose a child, I can say that I know what it's like to grieve. I still miss my dear ol' Pa, every day….and I only hope that he would be proud of the woman I've turned out to be. After all, I am the "Doctor's Companion"! I may not have a grand career or a husband or a family of my own, but you can bet that I'm as happy as a clam to be travelling the Universe with you!
Yours Forever,
Donna Noble.
The paper shook in his hands as the Doctor read the words, and when he was done, he laid the paper carefully back down on the console, as carefully as he might hold a newborn babe. And he waited with bated breath for Donna's return.
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That night, the TARDIS still remained on the street corner. Every so often, someone passed by, but nobody seemed to noticed the unusual blue box that had never been there before. Only the dogs started barking and sniffing at it until their masters pulled them away.
Inside, the lights on the console were dim, lending a soft green glow. It had been a long time since Donna had left, but whatever time it was didn't matter. The Doctor stood at the controls, but he wasn't thinking of where to go next. Instead, his attention was fixed on an almost unnoticeable scar that remained fixed in time between his thumb and pointer finger. It would never fade, just like his memories, forever etched inside his brain. He almost didn't notice the footsteps that came to a rest by his side.
"How are you, Spaceman?" said Donna Noble with a smile. Her tone was soft: friendly, and forgiving; and even though it filled him with a strange feeling he could only call relief, he almost couldn't bring himself to look at her, because looking was too dangerous, and she'd already seen too much. In the end, however, looking was all he was able to do, because noise was just as dangerous; probably more. He allowed his eyes to connect only briefly, before swallowing hard and returning his focus to the console knobs. There was nothing to say...
...except that Donna Noble knew differently, and suddenly her hand was resting gently on arm, urging him to face her once again, of which he did so, in spite of his better judgment.
He knew it was a mistake as soon as she faced him and proceeded to place both palms lightly up against his chest, steadying him like a rock against the threat of tears that suddenly thundered against his eyelids, threatening to spill at any second. I will not cry, the Doctor demanded silently to himself, gritting his teeth with conviction. Time Lords never cry.
And then she spoke, as soft as a mother would to a small, frightened child, "You know that pain?" she questioned him gently, nodding towards his hearts, "in there?" She never took her eyes off his, nor removed her hands, and he didn't move; he couldn't, because if he did, both his hearts would shatter at once, beyond repair. "It doesn't mean you were wrong to let her in," said Donna with a wisdom far beyond her years, a wisdom he had never known she had, "it proves that you were right."
Her words were like a balm to him, leaving the Doctor nearly speechless, sobered by this truth. How had she known? The Doctor wondered briefly if perhaps he'd overlooked some unique gift of telepathy. Or perhaps it was just Donna Noble: his touchstone, his rock. He was a fool to even consider letting her go.
To his relief, he finally had found his voice, and though it sounded hollow with age, he tried to force some semblance of hope somewhere there in between the margins. He wanted to say, "Where to next?" But instead, like a sailor lost at sea, he heard himself questioning her, the TARDIS, the Universe, anyone: "What do we do now?"
To which, in reply, Donna simply smiled, in spite of their sadness. "We go on," she declared, with soft conviction, her gaze never faltering, "We live. And we remember." She smiled again in spite of her sadness, as she continued to stare into those eyes that were so ancient, "what else can we do?"
She was right, he knew, and looked abruptly away, lest his eyes begin watering in spite of himself. "Where do you want to go?" he found himself asking at once. Soldier on: it was the only option, the only way. He should be a pro at it by now; after all, he had been doing it for 900 years.
Thankfully, she didn't contemplate for long. "Let's find a new world," Donna said with conviction, adding promptly without a second thought, "for her."
She was relieved when a knowing smile broke forth at once from Doctor's lips, the biggest smile she'd seen of his in a while, and it filled her heart with endless joy. She stood back, watching proudly as he took control of the TARDIS console once more, this time with renewed vigor; he was falling in love with his glorious time machine all over again.
"A new world," he could hear his daughter of Messaline saying, her voice now but an echo as she looked out towards the trees, "It's beautiful."
The Doctor would make sure that it would be.
The End