As Good As A Hit
His wrist still ached, hours later, phantom pain that had seeped deep into his bones and muscles still snatching his attention. Another name had been added to the list of those he could not save.
Restlessly, the Doctor rose, rubbing at his left wrist. This one, though, had struck closer to home than any of the others. Why, he was not entirely sure.
Don't lie to yourself. The mental chiding sounded too much like River Song's voice for comfort.
Or, he did know. He just wasn't comfortable with the answer.
Because she had known him.
Who was she? Or, perhaps more appropriately, who would she be to him?
To be greeted by someone who—frighteningly, inexplicably—knew him but who he didn't know—that was more than just awkward. It was scary. And while he hid the fear, he didn't pretend to know her in return.
By the Eternal Guardian, he'd even treated her like a complete idiot when she first came striding in through those doors. He felt like such a cad.
People threw themselves into the fire for him. He'd never known why. It was perhaps the thing about himself that he hated the most. He shivered, the faintest wind of time: a warning.
And he was going to meet her again. That was… a disquieting thought.
Watching Star Wars with Martha, he'd been haunted by one of the child Anakin's lines. What will happen to me now?
He'd been haunted by the pathos alone, but the line itself…
It was a terrifying question.
"Hey, Spaceman," Donna said quietly. The Doctor jumped.
"Oh! Hello, Donna." It was a bit too loud, and with the forced cheerful tone, it sounded so fake. Donna smiled sadly.
"So what made you not-okay?" She'd told him all about her "life" in the artificial reality created by CAL and the doctor moon. Belatedly, the Doctor realized that she'd been hoping he'd open up to her, in return.
"Oh! Um, well, er…" he stammered.
"Which one is it?" she asked with an attempt at humor. Neither of them laughed.
"I… er… well, Professor River Song saved my life… and I left her in a computer hard drive in a deserted library inhabited by microscopic carnivores."
"When you say it like that, it sounds like you're completely hopeless," Donna humphed.
"I kind of am," the Doctor said.
"But there's more to it than that," Donna said knowingly.
"Well…" The Doctor paused for a moment to marvel at Donna's startling capacity for compassion—and impressive ability to read others' emotions. "She knew me. And I didn't know her."
"And that scares you?" Donna asked. "Mum's friends from when I was little come over all the time and I have to pretend I know them."
The Doctor laughed mirthlessly. "For me, it's more likely that people who know me who I don't know are people I've ticked off in my own personal future."
"No," Donna decided, shaking her head. "You might know them in your future, but you don't know them at all now, and they know you, and that's what scares you. They know things about you, perhaps some private things, and you don't feel like it's reciprocated." The Doctor opened his mouth and closed it again.
"Sometimes I think you see just a bit too much, Donna Noble," he murmured, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes.
"You got that right, Martian Boy," Donna smirked at him. He smiled feebly in response.
"Today hit just a bit too close to home," he said softly. "A near miss is as good as a hit." Without looking, he could tell that Donna knew exactly what he meant.