Title: Being Lois Lane
Author: Lilac Summers
Characters: Donna/Ten
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: characters are not mine...just borrowing. kthxbai!
Author's note: Post Journey's End.
This is what Lois Lane must feel like.
Looking over the edge, down dizzying heights, wondering if someone will catch her if she falls.
Almost certain someone will.
Donna Noble loves heights now. She is sure she was not so enamored before. But now she craves the feeling of standing at the top of the world, closer to the heavens. Loves even more looking down, finding the ground or sea below her, waiting, as her stomach drops and vertigo makes her head spin lazily. She always steps back from the edge, of course. Of course she does.
But you see, Donna Noble knows she is going a little bit insane. Just a little bit, mind, because if you know you're going insane then are you really insane? Things in her brain no longer make sense. It's like trying to read a book backwards and upside-down - too much effort to make it worth the struggle. And now she's imagining things because she feels eyes on her all the time. Especially when she's on the edge of something, anything and anywhere, then the weight of those eyes is so focused and heavy it's practically a physical touch. Perhaps it's driven her a bit more bonkers.
So she cashed in all her savings, bought plane and train and cruise tickets with no concern to how she would support herself after she's done. Almost as if it won't matter.
She felt the eyes (wary, unnerved) boring into her back as she flirted too close to the cliff edge at Beachy Head. Felt them (confused, tired) as she stood mesmerized at the edge of the Great Wall of China. Felt them (anxious, disapproving) as she laughed out loud at the local's warnings, cliff diving in Mexico. Felt them (pleading, stricken) as she clung to the railing of her cruise ship's highest deck and stared down at the dark waters churned up by the rotor below.
Proof positive she's gone nutters, really. She's a broke, amnesiac, apparently paranoid schizophrenic, former temp from Chiswick; who would care enough to watch her?
Her last plane ticket deposits her in San Francisco. She's always wanted to see Golden Gate Bridge rising over the mists.
There is no mist on the day she arrives. Instead, it's a windy, cloudy day as she stands at the midpoint of the bridge, peering over the laughably-low railing. The murky, cold water of the bay seethes 75 meters below.
She's heard it takes 4 seconds to hit the water. Is that a long time, or too short? Maybe it's all a matter of perspective.
Suddenly, the feeling of being watched is back. More intense than ever before. She looks up, not expecting to find anyone nearby. The wind blows her red hair all over the place; she holds it back impatiently and takes a quick scan. The feeling is a constant itch, almost a physical pressure, almost pain. But, like always, no one is...
...wait.
To her left. Another lonely figure on the bridge, too far to make out features more distinct than lanky height, rumpled hair, and a long coat.
Yet their eyes meet. Even from this far away she knows they're brown, and that he's watching her.
She feels a mocking smile stretch her face, a sardonic twisting of lips. It's not a nice smile she gives this man, this stranger, and she doesn't know why he deserves it or why she's sure he can even see it.
But she keeps smiling, and her fingers curl on the railing in front of her. She shifts her weight to her toes, feels her center of gravity shift.
Smiles wider, eyes still locked to her stranger.
They say it takes 4 seconds. More than enough time - all the time in the world.
She wonders if Superman will come.
fin. maybe.