Far more worrisome was their time on Trecci-Three. Apparently, they were a bit touchy about strangers touching (Donna tried not to laugh when he said that.) their sacred fountain, and to make a long story short, they had been arrested. Again. The Doctor had managed to get them out, of course, and Donna had brilliantly knocked the guards out with help from her belt and her high-heeled shoe. They raced back to the TARDIS and slammed the door shut just in time to avoid a rain of arrows, and both leaned, panting, against the console.
They grinned at each other, relief making them both giddy, and the Doctor thought he'd never had as good a friend as Donna and she was just marvelous.
And pale. She stumbled over to the jump seat and sat down heavily, and the Doctor felt a brief twinge of worry. She noticed, of course, and shook her head. All that running had worn her down, she said. A shower and a cuppa and she'd be as good as new.
With practiced hands, and without a single use of the mallet, the Doctor sent the TARDIS spinning into the Vortex while Donna watched. Afterwards, she got up and slowly exited the room.
He found her later in the kitchen, head propped against her arms on the table. At first, he thought she was sleeping, but she started when he entered, and for a second, panicked blue eyes met confused brown before she looked away. This time, however, he noticed what she obviously didn't want him to.
It hadn't been just surprise in her gaze, but pain. Gently, he sat down across the table from her. She made a move to get up, mumbling about getting him a bacon sandwich, but dropped back down into the chair when he stopped her with an outstretched palm.
It took almost an hour of convincing, persuasion and wheedling, but she finally admitted to being in pain, after what she called a few knocks from the prison guards. He demanded to know why she hadn't told him she had been hurt, but she shrugged, looking uncomfortable and trailed off on a sentence about not wanting to bother him.
However, no amount of coaxing could convince Donna to come with him to the med bay to get checked up, and in fact just ended with blistering ears for him, after she accused him of wanting to get her naked.
She moved gingerly for a few days afterwards, and was careful to wear long-sleeved shirts. Once or twice, the Doctor thought he glimpsed shadows of bruises on her arms where the sleeves rode up.
He kicked a coral struts after one such time, and despondently wondered if there had been other times she had been hurt and refused to tell him.
DWDWDW
They had brilliant times too. Saving the Ood, Donna bringing down the Sontarans, meeting Agatha Christie… They tasted the silver fruits of Choa-Choa, deposed the Princess Regent of Lomaeng and rescued the last Rukh's egg from a giant Cuckoo. The last adventure involved several not so pleasant fluids that took hours getting out of their clothes and hair.
Donna reminded him to eat, sleep and most importantly, to laugh. The Doctor was not sure exactly how she did it, but somehow, she saw through him like he was rice paper, and when the morose moods hit him, before he knew it, he was tucked in the library under a blanket with a cuppa and Donna complaining loudly at the behavior of characters in Coronation Street. Always at her insistence that she needed to relax and he should respect that, but he knew better. It wasn't for her sake, but for his.
When she threw her head back and laughed heartily at a bad joke, and her red hair rippled down her back, he thought he should like to kiss her. Just… Just to try it.
DWDWDW
He may have thought nothing of her behavior at first, but he certainly didn't anymore. Too many things stuck out in his mind for him to ignore it. The Doctor thought to bring it up with Donna, but he didn't have an opportunity before fate intervened and took the chance from him.
They had landed on Saelsyin, inhabited by a sort of crossover between humans and colorful birds, which had lead Donna to nickname them 'canaries'. They strolled down another street, lined with market stalls and bustling with life, color and spices. Before he could stop her, Donna reached out to touch the magnificent golden feathers of a male in purple robes, unaware that this indicated he was of the priest caste, and thus untouchable.
It all went downhill from there. Donna was arrested, taken away before the Doctor could pull out the psychic paper and talk her out of it. The endless bureaucratic procedures of the Saelsynic court system, with off-worlders ranking as the lowest caste of all, meant to took more than three days (three days, fourteen hours, 43 minutes and twelve seconds) before he could bribe the right official.
He was led into dark, damp corridors, low underground (the cruelest punishment of all for an avian race), and finally into a small cell. Donna was curled in a corner, her vibrant hair matted with sweat and dirt. She made herself as small as possible against the sudden light, hiding her face against her knees. He spoke her name, several times, but without any reply. In the end, he crouched down in front of her, his hands held out, palms facing upwards, and spoke as if to a small child.
"Donna?"
Her pale face rose a few inches, and his stomach clenched at the look in her eyes.
"I thought you wouldn't come."
She said it in such a matter of fact way, calm and so utterly, heart-breakingly, devoid of emotion that he couldn't think of anything to say in reply. He just reached out and took her hands in his, trying not to squeeze them too hard.
She refused to be carried back to the TARDIS, but walked slowly and painfully beside him, head bowed and lips cinched. This time, however, he wouldn't let her slip away to her room, but took her, despite her protests, to the med bay. She vehemently said no to sedation though, and eyed him suspiciously as he gathered clean cloths, warm water, hyposprays and bandages.
She also wouldn't tell him exactly what had transpired during her three days in captivity, but the marks on her skin told the story for her, in as many words.
She had two hairline fractures on her ribs.
A bruised hipbone.
A black eye.
Fractured cheekbone.
Her hair was torn out in places and her scalp was bloody.
23 bruises and lacerations in different sizes on various places on her body, including her breasts and thighs.
And a scar on her right wrist. An old scar.
The Doctor ran his thumb gently over it, trying to determine its cause.
"It was broken. Bone went right through the skin."
Donna swallowed, obviously coming to some sort of conclusion.
"It's the only one still visible."
He thought he understood then. Of course he did. He who had seen so much of the Universe. But he needed to hear her say it.
Wordlessly, he cradled her wrist in his hands and slowly, gently, pressed his lips to the scar.
The worlds tumbled out of her after that. The usual story, told in so many different versions in so many different worlds.
Her mother, a constant critic. Her distant father. The feeling of always being different and never good enough. The string of boys and later men she had tried so desperately to please, so that she could be loved. Deserve to be loved. How they had cheated on her, and left her and used her. The final relationship, which started out so well and ended so badly. How the soft words had turned into harsh ones. The isolation, the violence and the pain. How he had gone from giving her flowers to throwing glasses at her head. How she had forgiven him, time and again.
How she finally got out.
Made a life for herself again. Gotten a job, even if it was just as a temp. How stupid her mother thought her for not seeing it sooner while at the same time telling her it was just typical, she'd never find a nice man, not now. Damaged goods.
The last chance wedding with Lance. How terrified she had been. How nice he had been. How he never pushed her for sex. Even if it was just because he thought her disgusting, as he had said in front of the Queen of the Racnoss, she still thought it a relief.
And she spoke of meeting him. Of starting to believe in herself again. And of how afraid she still was, that she would be wrong. That she had misjudged him. That he really thought her stupid, slow, disgusting, ugly… How she had tried not to be a bother, not be in the way, or inconvenient. How she had kept expecting him to ask for 'payment', because it was the only use men had for her. How convinced she had been that he had left her to rot when she was arrested.
But he had come, and as she said that, her eyes glittered like sapphires through the tears.
DWDWDW
She slept, afterwards, her body exhausted and her mind drained.
The Doctor hadn't let go of her hand once. He held vigil, eventually falling asleep himself, his forehead leaning against their joined hands.
Against Donna Noble's hand. Brilliant, strong, wonderful, beautiful Donna Noble.
DWDWDW
A/N: This ended up darker than I intended. It is not what I actually believe happened in the series (even though Sylvia Noble is a pretty mean-spirited person). I wanted to get some romance in there, but it's just hinted at now. I wanted to end it here, even though I had a scene with a kiss written. Maybe I'll make it a sequel. I also intentionally made it rather vague as to what really happened to Donna, the details I mean.