A/N- I don't even know. That's happening more and more often with my fics. Not that I ever actually finish and publish them. So there's that. But I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight. So I'm going to write. To high on sugar and coffee I guess. And band. But that's a whole other story. Anyway. Writing. Here goes nothing.
You know how it goes. Read and review please so I know whether you like it or not.
I am so sorry for this.
I wave the sonic screwdriver around her again, praying to every non-existent God that it will show a different result. I glance at it and press the button for the umpteenth time, repeating the motion. I do this several more times, each motion more frantic than the last.
I still when she puts her hand on my shoulder, and I can see my own eyes reflected in her's. They are blown wide, more pupil than white. I look crazed. but I can't bring myself to care. She looks so calm, so much calmer than I feel, and I envy it.
"Doctor?" She asks, her voice is below a whisper. To my ears it sounds like a prayer. A prayer that I can not answer. I swear on every planet that I've ever stepped on that my heart breaks in that moment. It shatters into a million and one tiny pieces, because I can no longer meet her gaze. I turn my head and close my eyes, unwilling to tell her the truth but unable to lie.
"Doctor." She repeats, no longer a question. She is not asking for my attention any more, she is demanding it. I can hear it though. I can hear the fear that has crept into her voice, though she tries to hide it, as she always does beneath a cool exterior of bravado.
I look into her eyes, trying to push all of my emotion away. Push it into some small corner of my mind, because right now she needs me. She needs me to be strong and not break down and not fall to my knees and cry like I want to. I can feel my legs tremble at the thought. Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth, but no words come out.
"Two months." I manage, my voice cracking. I wince at the sound.
"What to you mean two months?" She demands, her tone taking on a cruel edge. She glares at me, expecting an explanation I do not care to give.
"Tell me Doctor." She snaps, taking a step closer to me, invading my personal space. I instinctively take a step back, pressing myself into the TARDIS console.
"I... You..." I stammer, trying to close my eyes, trying to breath through the feeling that threatens to overwhelm me. I retreat into my mind for a moment, ignoring everything around me. I take every emotion, and I bundle them together, wrapping one around the other and I push them away. When I open my eyes again, she is standing right in front of me, waiting impatiently.
My face betrays no emotion, no feeling as I look at her.
"Cancer Donna. You have cancer. You are going to die." I say the words flatly, unwilling to think about what I am saying or the effect the words will have.
In the moments of silence that follow my words, nothing happens. I don't even dare to breath. I wait for Donna to say something because I don't know what else to do. I feel so lost, unable to piece together what is happening in front of me because I don't want to admit it is actually happening.
'This is all a bad dream. I will close my eyes and count to ten. When I open them none of this will be real.' I tell myself, and I actually try it. Squeezing my eyes shut I internally count backward from eleven, just to be on the safe side. Yet when I open them again, Donna is still there. She hasn't moved, not even a fraction of an centimeter.
She is looking past me now, unblinking. I don't think she see's me, or the TARDIS around her. I search for words, I search for something appropriate to say, something to make her pain go away. But there is nothing.
I have lived nine hundred years. I have seen the birth of the Earth and the burning of Gallifrey. I have watched mothers kill their children to spare them the cruelty of a solider that would have them tortured. I have stood witness as The Shadow Proclamation was formed. I have started battles and ended wars and destroyed galaxies. I have offered comfort to Captain Jack Harkness after the death of Ianto Jones. But nothing could have ever prepared me for this moment. There is nothing I can say to her.
I do the only thing that I can do. I pull her shocked form into my arms, holding her tightly. She doesn't relax against me, her body is still stiff as a board. But she does not push me away, and I count this as a blessing. I rub what I hope to be comforting circles on her back.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I whisper against her hair, over and over again, unable to simply say nothing.
I don't know how long it is before she moves. It could be seconds or it could be years. I wouldn't be able to tell the difference. She pulls away from me, far enough so that she can look into my eyes.
As I meet her gaze a single tear traces a pattern from her eye, down to the corner of her mouth and over her chin, leaving a glittering path in it's wake. I fight the urge to wipe it away. But I know Donna would not appreciate that. My strong, bold Donna. I know how she would glare at me if I mentioned her crying. She would roll her eyes.
'I wasn't crying, Dumbo.' She would say. Or maybe 'Is there something wrong with your eyes Spaceman? I don't cry.'
The ghost of a smirk finds it's way onto my face as I see the whole scene in my minds eye and I almost chuckle. But I don't, and reality comes crashing back in around me.
Like waves during a hurricane all the emotion that I struggled to push out of my mind threatens to overwhelm me. Ten times worse than before, if that is even possible. It is all I can do to stay upright.
My arms tighten around Donna, and we are clinging to each other now. I don't even try to fight the tears that cloud my eyes, I know it will do no good.
To her credit, Donna holds be just as closely as I hold her. I can feel the sobs wracking her body as I once again lose track of time.
We share a pain so deep that it pushes out everything else. For one small infinity I can no longer feel the turn of the Earth or the speed as this one small planet flies through space, I can not hear the echo of every second in the back of my mind or feel the pulse the Time Vortex in my heart. Had I been in a better state, under better circumstances I would have appreciated the lack of background noise. But I did not notice any of this until I was standing alone in the TARDIS, opening my mouth to speak to someone who was no longer there.
I cry myself out before Donna does. Holding her still, I slide down to the floor and pull her close to me. I rock us back and forth gently, waiting for her to calm. And eventually she does.
"I was going to do so much." She whispers, bloodshot eyes a mirror of my own.
"I was going to stop wars and save lives and find new planets and walk where no human has ever walked before. I was going to meet my heroes and count the stars and fall in love. I was going to be great." She murmurs and I nod slowly.
"I'm sorry Donna. I'm so sorry." I can't think of anything else to say. The words simply do not come to me.
"I want to die on Earth. With my family. They should know what happened to me, know that I didn't die on some alien planet killed by a giant, purple teacup." Donna decides, her voice steadying, though her attempt at humor falls flat.
I glance up, looking at the screen above our heads. Words in beautiful circular Gallifreyan swirl across it. For a moment I let myself be taken back to the world of my childhood. I see the snow capped mountains, and the never-ending fields. I hear the songs of the harvest and the songs of the summer. And then, all at once, I am back in the TARDIS.
"We are already there." I mumble, half a smile in my voice. The TARDIS has done what she always does; taken me where I need to be.
Donna nods. With a deep breath she pulls herself to her feet. When she starts to walk away from me, toward her room, I do not see her shake. She is strong as ever, taking everything in stride. My brilliant Donna.
Then she pauses for a moment, and looks back at me. I stand as we look at each other, wary of whatever question is plaguing her.
"Will... Will it..." She stutters lightly. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. When she opens her eyes again, a few moments later, they are determined.
"Will it hurt?" She asks, voice steady. I flinch involuntarily. I had been hoping she wouldn't ask me this. I couldn't lie to her. I never have been able to, I doubt I ever will be able to.
"Yes." I answer softly. "Yes, it will hurt like hell."
She nods, and then continues walking away, without a glance back toward me. No doubt her mind is in other places.
When Donna leaves the room, and I can no longer hear her footsteps, I let myself fall into my chair. I spin myself slowly, watching the whole of the TARDIS be turned into a swirl of colors. I stop when I am dizzy, and run my hands over my face and through my hair. I am tired, exhausted, but it doesn't matter.
Wilf knows something is wrong the second he pulls open the door to their house. He can sense that something is off, I can see it in his eyes. But he doesn't say anything. He just welcomes us in for tea and cookies, fresh baked. Like it is the most normal thing in the world for me to come visit when the planet isn't being threatened. And maybe, in his mind, it is.
Donna's mother is a little slower to catch on. She rambles on with Donna about the shopping and the car and the house and the bills. Taking about everything and nothing as mothers often do. But she too soon realizes that something is amiss. Although, unlike Wilf, she does not hesitate to speak her mind. She stops speaking mid-sentence, and silence hangs heavy in the air. She looks from me to Donna and back again, the blond hair that frames her face swaying.
"Donna, what's wrong? Has he done something to you?" She demands in an undertone, as if I am not close enough to hear. Or maybe she doesn't care.
"Mum. There's something I need to tell you." Donna says carefully, and she explains.
No one says anything for a long time after Donna finishes talking. Finally Wilf coughs, and our attention turns to him.
"How long?" He asks plainly, looking at Donna, but the question is directed at me.
"Not long. Two months. Maybe less." I answer.
I grab Donna's hand and I do not let go.
Six and a half weeks later Ms. Noble, Wilf, and I stand around Donna's hospital bed. I keep her hand in mine, and her skin is cold and clammy. Wires and tubes sprout from her skin and a machine beeps in time with her thready heart beat. She is sleeping. That is what the doctors tell us. But I know it is not true.
She is rail thin now, and she hasn't so much as snored in almost eight days. Donna is in a deep coma. The only relief that comes from that knowledge is knowing that she is no longer in pain.
A nurse walks in, and our heads snap up. We are all drawn from our thoughts, awaiting whatever news the nurse brings. She is holding papers and a clipboard and I know whatever she says it will not be good.
"She wouldn't want to live like this." The nurse says quietly. And Sylvia Noble jumps up from her chair.
"You didn't know my daughter!" She hisses angrily, ready for a fight. But just as quickly, the energy flees her body. Wilf stands and pulls her into an embrace. I look at them and he nods to me.
It is time.
I speak at her funeral.
I don't know what to say to the small gathering of people, so I settle on the truth. Or something close to it, anyway.
"Donna Noble saved me in so many ways. And I regret that I did not get the chance to tell her that properly. But I am going to do it now, if you don't mind." I turn and I face away from the crowd, looking at the picture of her.
"Donna, I need to say thank you. In more than one way you saved me. Especially from myself. You showed me that just because something is lost, doesn't mean it can't be found again. That just because something is gone doesn't mean it's destroyed. We saw some wonderful, brilliant things, you and I. But do you know, I don't think I ever told you this. I should have. Out of all those things we saw, the most brilliant, the most perfect, was you."
I take a breath, smelling the crisp air, and I turn back to face the teary-eyed people.
"It's so true. And if you are standing here, then you know it. You know how brilliant Donna was. How stubborn, and bold, and wonderful. She was, she is, so beautiful. Like the summer rain, so filled with kindness and compassion. I am better off for having known her." I pause, unsure of how to finish.
I think of everything that Donna and I did. Pompeii, and the Ood, and the Sontaran, and the giant wasp, and too much bloody salt. And without a conscious decision, I also think of everything we could have done. The whole of time and space, everything spread out before us. Next stop, everywhere.
"I will always sing the song of Donna Noble." I say, more to myself than the crowd of mourners.
And I will.
Every time I look up at the night sky, or see a bee flying from flower to flower, I will think of her. I will not forget, because Donna Noble deserves to be remembered.