I do not own Doctor Who or any characters thereof, and will not be making any money off of them.
I wrote this story in the winter of '09, before more was known about Donna, so if there are inaccuracies, it is because of that.
Donna Noble is angry. She's always been angry, for as long as she can remember, and as she gets older, the anger gets worse. Anything can set her off, from the skinny new assistant director at her job (why does he look so familiar?) to the documentary on Pompeii (why does she feel a deep pang of sorrow at the base of her skull?). She feels so insignificant, in the deepest, most secret part of her heart, the part that almost never sees the light of day, feels like a tiny, unimportant speck, jumping about and yelling into the emptiness. It makes her feel helpless, and she hates feeling helpless, and she turns that hate into a rage against the world.
She feels like something is missing, some vital piece of herself that was always there, until one day, it just… wasn't. There's an empty place in her mind, a tooth that's been pulled, a subtle wrongness that she can't pin down, just that she's missing something, and it's something important, something like a chunk of her brain or a piece of her heart.
Sometimes, Donna Noble dreams. She dreams about a blue box and a man (a skinny man, a paper cut of a man), of horrible disfigured people with worms coming out of their face, of people made of rock and devouring shadows. She wakes up with her pillow wet and the missing piece in her heart throbbing. She wakes up yearning for something that she can't name, the bits and pieces and afterimages of dreams floating on the edge of her memory. She wakes up filled with rage, rage at an injustice that she can't pinpoint and a sadness so cold it burns, to match the fiery rage burning in her throat, and the two of them combine to create an acid that she sprays at the world, while inside, some forgotten part of her throbs and burns and calls out for its missing piece.