A/N: So I got this idea and ran with it for my friend Liz. It's set in the future in the series; the Doctor Donna sees is in my head the twelfth or thirteenth Doctor- not Eleven. I'm not sure where this came from, but I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I only own Ava and John; no original DW characters.
Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are
She didn't quite remember how it started, but showing her children the stars had become almost a nightly thing.
Her grandfather had something to do with it; always pointing that telescope to the sky, searching through the stars as though he expected to see an old friend. Occasionally he'd mutter under his breath; last time, she could have sworn he'd said something about a box, and she was almost positive he'd said the word 'doctor'- but she'd assumed he'd meant his doctor, and she'd put it aside.
She lay between her children, Ava curled into one side, John on the other, their small heads pressing against her chest. She pressed a kiss to each other their soft hair, breathing in their precious scent of childhood and innocence.
"Mummy, do you think there are other people out there?" Ava asked, lifting herself up slightly to look at her mom, her thick red curls falling around her shoulders as her eyebrows furrowed. "Do you think there are other people out there living on the lights?"
Donna felt an unearthly tug at her temples; she swallowed the gasp that threatened to leak out of her lips as she struggled to refocus on her daughter, the tugging fading as she thought less about it.
"There's no such thing as aliens, stupid," John answered, rolling his eyes at his little sister, who began to pout.
"Oi, don't you call your sister stupid," Donna said, frowning at her son. "Apologize, right this minute."
She waits until his does, then hauls herself and the kids to their feet; she sends them inside, telling them to get ready for bed. She stays outside a few minutes more; she stares at the stars, the dark swirls of blue mixing with the lights of the stars.
She feels the odd sense of homesickness when she looks at the stars; like she misses being there. Like she's supposed to be there; a sense of loneliness fills her chest and she feels like there's supposed to be someone to take that loneliness away. The tugging starts again, and her knees weaken. It's like a memory is trying to break free when-
"Mum!"
She turns at the sound of her son's call, the weight on her head being lifted.
"Coming, sweetheart!" she calls back, letting out a deep breath.
She's being silly anyway; she's home right now, and has everything she could ever want.
When the blazing sun is gone, when there's nothing he shines upon, then you show your little light
Her week has been shit.
Her husband had been an arse all week to her, her boss was being ridiculous, and John had been sent home from school for fighting while Ava got the stomach bug. All in all, she didn't know how it could get much worse.
Of course, that meant it only did.
She was walking to the store when it started to pour; her umbrella was at home, and her coat didn't have a hood. (She let God know what she thought of that, real loudly.)
She'd just started walking again when she saw him; tall and thick-shouldered, hair short and cropped. He was standing in an alleyway, leaning against the brick of one of the buildings; he was dressed in cargo pants and a tight t-shirt, no jacket on.
"Hey- you shouldn't be out in the rain!" she called, seeing him stiffen, his eyes rising to meet hers. They widened, the bright blue irises contracting in pain as they searched her face. She frowned, confused; she'd never seen this man before.
He took a few long strides in her direction and stopped about a foot away, not even seeming to feel the rain that was pelting his skin. But if she thought about it- neither did she.
"Do I know you?" she asked, her tone a bit snappish. (Well she was having a rubbish day.)
"Donna Noble," the man breathed, and for some reason a chill ran up her spine, like she'd heard him say her name before. But that was absurd.
"I said, do I know you?" she asked again, tossing her wet hair out of her eyes. She blinked and suddenly he was there, right in front of her, and before she could stop him his hands were knotting into her rain-soaked hair and his mouth was covering hers.
She didn't protest; she couldn't, because she was too busy kissing him back.
He tasted like Time and Space- things she'd never thought of as a taste before, things she didn't how she recognized as tastes, but there it sat on her tongue, heavy and marvelous and oh-so familiar, but she didn't know why or how. There was a familiar, unpleasant tugging by her temples and he pulled away, grief lining the corners of his dark blue eyes; he looked so much more ragged than he had only moments ago.
The tugging she'd felt those months ago came back, stronger than ever; she muffled the cry of pain into her palm, still tasting the Time on her tongue.
"Oh Donna Noble," the man breathed, his eyes pained and his face lined, and he looked so very, very old. "You qwew magnificent. You must remember that, always. You were magnificent, and you always will be."
Before she could respond he'd already moved ten feet away, disappearing around a corner. She tried to chase him, but the rain fell harder and she could no longer see. She thought she heard a sound through the falling drops, but she couldn't tell.
She stood in the falling rain, and she couldn't help but feel she was even lonelier than before.
In the dark blue sky so deep, through my curtains often peep
"Are you alright, Doctor?"
The Doctor looked up at the sound of his companion's voice, her soft question echoing through the quiet TARDIS. He knew she meant well, but all he really wanted were a few quiet moments to himself. Regardless, he straightened, plastering a smile onto his face.
"I'm always alright," he replied, heading to the control panel. "Where to?"
After that, he checked on Donna fairly regularly- but never when she could see him. He couldn't risk another run-in.
He watched her watch the stars, and his hearts ached in remembrance for a time he'd never had. He still held the feelings of that old body, still felt the scars on these hearts, but those hadn't been his memories.
He almost wished they had been; maybe then this raw, aching pain would make more sense.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are
"Mummy?" Ava asked, turning to her mother in the moonlight-covered grass. "Do you think there are other people out there?"
John isn't there this time, and Donna takes a minute to think about it. The tugging happens in her brain again, and familiar, longing ache, and she opens her mouth to answer her daughter, almost surprised at the words that leave her lips.
"I think there are many things out there, sweetheart," she replied, stroking her daughter's hair. "So many things we could never even begin to understand."
Ava nodded, satisfied, but Donna felt that ache and tug again, almost familiar sensations at this point. She relished them when they came; it made her feel closer to someone she couldn't remember. Someone she missed, even though she didn't know who they were.
She looked at the stars, and she wished.