Fic: When Your Eyes Were Blue
Title: When Your Eyes Were Blue
Author:
alex_caligari
Beta: diabolicalfiend, who also suggested the title
Characters/Pairing: Nine/Rose, Donna
Rating: G
Summary: Donna, after another hard day, finds that maybe she's not the only one with problems.
Disclaimer: The puppets are still firmly attached to the strings of the BBC.
Author's Notes: Set during Rose and after Journey's End. There's a bit of timey-wimeyness regarding the passage of time from the Doctor's point of view. Including the skipped year, five linear years have passed between the setting of the two episodes.
The pub is a perfect place to get lost in the noise of humanity. People could reinvent themselves here, erase their backgrounds and forget life’s misfortunes. Which was why Donna Noble was here, alone, nursing a small vodka and tonic after a disastrous job interview. It was for a small gardening publication (as a temp, naturally) and she thought that it would be a slow and easy position. Really, who cared about azaleas? Certainly not she. Her horticultural disinterest showed during the interview, and she was distracted by the manager’s excessive sweating and his wandering gaze (she knew this top was a mistake). After making her skin crawl for a full ten minutes, he called her ‘sweetheart’ and put his hand on her arm. She promptly told him where to stick his poncy job and walked out, snagging a handful of pens on the way by.
She was rummaging through said pens, trying to find a couple more pounds in her purse for just one more drink. One more, then home, although she wanted to put that off for as long as possible. She walked up to the bar and saw a man sitting there with an empty tumbler in front of him. He looked quite out of place here, she thought; this pub was trying to be fashionable with metal and glass and mood lighting everywhere. It was meant to attract fashionable people. He’d be better off down the street at The Knocker. All the hard-working, blue collar blokes went there, and he certainly looked hard. The close cropped hair, leather coat, and large boots (not that she was looking) gave the impression that he worked outside, likely at the docks or similar.
He glanced at her as she ordered another vodka and tonic, then did a double-take. Damn this top, she really didn’t want any more attention today. She tried to ignore him, but the intensity of his gaze unnerved her. “Got a problem, mate?” she snapped.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“Don’t think so, I don’t have any Northern creeps in my Rolodex.”
He was unperturbed by her curt answer. “There was just something familiar about you. Reminded me of someone. Sorry, my mistake.” He turned back to the bar and frowned at the tumbler as if refusing to believe it was empty.
Donna also turned away but found that her table had been taken over by a young couple cooing at each other. Having no desire to be reminded of how sad her life was, she returned to the bar, sighing. She studied the man next to her, separated by a few stools and still staring morosely into the glass in his hand. What the hell, she thought, maybe his problems will be worse than mine.
“So, who is she?” she asked him.
He looked up, startled. “What?”
“Whoever it is that you’re trying to forget in the bottom of that glass.”
He blinked at the glass in question and deliberately placed it back on the bar top. When Donna still stared at him, he shifted uncomfortably. “Just a girl I met.”
She eyed him. “You look a bit old to be picking up ‘girls.’”
“She was different,” he said.
“What was her name, then?”
He paused and his eyes became distant. “Her name was Rose.”
Donna’s skin tingled at the phrase, but she put it down to the way he said it-full of reverence and wonder and grief. Or was she imagining it?
He was clearly getting irritated but she persisted. “What happened?”
“I asked her to come with me, she said no.” The flat tone of his voice was jarring compared to his previous statement.
Donna snorted. “Smart girl,” she said, ignoring his glare. “Who goes off with some bloke they’ve just met? For all she knows, you could be a serial killer.”
He stiffened for a fraction of a second before settling into a frown. But it was enough to set Donna on edge.
“Oh, my God, you’re not, are you?”
“Course not,” he replied, “don’t be so stupid. But even if I was, I wouldn’t go telling people just ‘cause they asked.”
Donna thought about this and decided that if he was a lunatic, then he wasn’t going to murder her in a roomful of people. “Alright, I’ll give you that. You still haven’t answered my question,” she added and took a sip of her own drink.
His answer was so low it was almost a growl. “She had a boyfriend.”
Donna smiled. She knew about this kind of situation, had seen it a dozen times. “You were having an affair,” she stated.
“No!” he said, rounding on her. “I told you, I only met her a few days ago.” He seemed to slacken and his voice lowered. “She saved my life.”
She almost, almost, rolled her eyes. The damsel-in-distress routine was never attractive on men, especially this one. “Wait a minute,” she said, smiling. “Am I being set up? Are there cameras hidden somewhere?”
He looked at her as if she’s just asked whether Hiroshima was a good vacation spot in the 1940s. “What? No, there aren’t any cameras. Why’d you think there would be cameras?”
“Well, it is a bit BBC Drama, isn’t it? ‘She saved my life, now I’m in love with her, but she won’t leave her boyfriend for me.’ How old’s this girl, anyway?”
He had returned to glaring at the tumbler, and Donna didn’t think she’d get another word out of him until he spoke quietly, in the same tone in which he had said her name.
“She’d be 24.”
No matter how much he appeared to brush her off, Donna could tell that he wanted to talk about this Rose. And, against her better judgement, she was getting interested, too. So she needled him into defending her. “Ha! No wonder! Her lad’s probably younger than you. Better looking, too, I’d imagine.”
“What’s your name?” he asked, eyes fixed on her again.
“Donna Noble,” she blurted without thinking. Damn! Now he could find her if he wanted to.
“Listen here, Donna Noble,” he said, leaning close, “her idiot boyfriend doesn’t matter. Her pointless job doesn’t matter. Her selfish mother doesn’t matter. Because right here, right now, all that mattered was her. And tomorrow, I have to move on. So don’t go talking like she’s better off where she is.” He had turned hard again, and Donna started to feel a kind of awe-filled fear for the first time.
“Right,” she said. “Conviction like that deserves a drink. What’re you having?”
“Brandy.” The morose flatness had returned to his voice.
“Brandy it is, then.” She ordered and looked at him sidelong. “I don’t know your name.”
“Smith. John Smith.”
Donna really rolled her eyes this time. “John Smith? Sure, why not?”
They drank in silence; him wrapped up in his own head, her trying to gauge what to say next.
“I probably shouldn’t ask,” she started, “I mean, seems like she dodged a bullet with you; but why let her go? If she was so special, why let her walk away?”
He tilted his head, still not looking at her. “I asked her once, she said no. There’s no point in asking again.”
“God, you’re thick,” Donna said. He looked up and blinked in surprise. “What did you think would happen? You don’t just spring something like that on someone, asking them to leave everything behind for a stranger. No wonder she turned you down. Probably scared her out of her wits.”
He stared at her again. She was almost getting used to it. This gaze had a touch of uncertainty about it, as if he had never thought about it from Rose’s point of view. “You think she’d change her mind?”
“Well, maybe, if you gave her time to think about it. If you actually wanted to ask again. You seem pretty set on giving up on her.”
For the first time, he smiled. It was a small smile, a half-smile really, but his face lost its hardness and he looked almost gleeful. “Donna Noble, you are something else.”
She thought about her day (month, year, life) and said, “No, I’m just ordinary. It’s that Rose of yours who’s special, if she can get a smile out of you.”
He looked her over again, like he was searching her for something. He seemed to have forgotten his annoyance with her. “No, you’re special, too. There’s something about you, Donna Noble, something familiar.” He leaned close again. “You’re something fantastic.”
The sincerity in his voice and face almost had her, until she leaned forward and said, “And, you, John Smith, are shameless. Save that flirting for Rose.”
That put him in his place, judging from his amazed expression. If he’s already stealing one woman from her boyfriend, no need for him to try it on with her, too. And she told him as much.
He laughed once, twice, then harder and harder until he was gripping the bar for support. Despite what he’d said earlier, now she was sure that this was an elaborate prank. When he managed to get his breath back he raised his glass. “To Donna Noble, a most interesting and insightful woman.”
Donna raised her own glass and said, “To John Smith, a most confusing and dirty old man.” They clinked glasses and he stood up, draining his. He patted himself down, and faced her.
“Thank you, Donna. I don’t give many people a second chance, but you’ve convinced me otherwise.”
“I didn’t do anything, not really. I just asked you about her.”
“Oh, do you have to go and ruin it? Take some credit, at least. Call it a push in the right direction, yeah?”
Donna shook her head. “I hope this girl knows what she’d getting into with you.”
He grinned craftily. “She has no idea.” At Donna’s frown, he continued. “Oh, don’t worry about her; she can handle herself. You should probably worry more about me.”
He started to walk away, then abruptly turned back. “I never asked, what brought you here?”
“Oh, nothing really. Bad job interview.”
“Hmm.” He stared like he was looking through her. He nodded once and held out his hand. “Have a good life, Donna Noble. I look forward to seeing you again.”
She laughed. “Not in this lifetime,” she said, reaching forward and shaking his hand. Her skin tingled again at his touch; he was strangely cold. “Good luck, John.”
He gave her a half-wave and walked out of the pub. She stared after him for a while, and then gathered herself together and went home to her mother’s shrewish eye and her grandfather’s odd looks.
Years earlier and several kilometres away, a young woman received a rare second chance.
“By the way, did I mention it also travels in time?”
Author:
alex_caligari
Beta: diabolicalfiend, who also suggested the title
Characters/Pairing: Nine/Rose, Donna
Rating: G
Summary: Donna, after another hard day, finds that maybe she's not the only one with problems.
Disclaimer: The puppets are still firmly attached to the strings of the BBC.
Author's Notes: Set during Rose and after Journey's End. There's a bit of timey-wimeyness regarding the passage of time from the Doctor's point of view. Including the skipped year, five linear years have passed between the setting of the two episodes.
The pub is a perfect place to get lost in the noise of humanity. People could reinvent themselves here, erase their backgrounds and forget life’s misfortunes. Which was why Donna Noble was here, alone, nursing a small vodka and tonic after a disastrous job interview. It was for a small gardening publication (as a temp, naturally) and she thought that it would be a slow and easy position. Really, who cared about azaleas? Certainly not she. Her horticultural disinterest showed during the interview, and she was distracted by the manager’s excessive sweating and his wandering gaze (she knew this top was a mistake). After making her skin crawl for a full ten minutes, he called her ‘sweetheart’ and put his hand on her arm. She promptly told him where to stick his poncy job and walked out, snagging a handful of pens on the way by.
She was rummaging through said pens, trying to find a couple more pounds in her purse for just one more drink. One more, then home, although she wanted to put that off for as long as possible. She walked up to the bar and saw a man sitting there with an empty tumbler in front of him. He looked quite out of place here, she thought; this pub was trying to be fashionable with metal and glass and mood lighting everywhere. It was meant to attract fashionable people. He’d be better off down the street at The Knocker. All the hard-working, blue collar blokes went there, and he certainly looked hard. The close cropped hair, leather coat, and large boots (not that she was looking) gave the impression that he worked outside, likely at the docks or similar.
He glanced at her as she ordered another vodka and tonic, then did a double-take. Damn this top, she really didn’t want any more attention today. She tried to ignore him, but the intensity of his gaze unnerved her. “Got a problem, mate?” she snapped.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“Don’t think so, I don’t have any Northern creeps in my Rolodex.”
He was unperturbed by her curt answer. “There was just something familiar about you. Reminded me of someone. Sorry, my mistake.” He turned back to the bar and frowned at the tumbler as if refusing to believe it was empty.
Donna also turned away but found that her table had been taken over by a young couple cooing at each other. Having no desire to be reminded of how sad her life was, she returned to the bar, sighing. She studied the man next to her, separated by a few stools and still staring morosely into the glass in his hand. What the hell, she thought, maybe his problems will be worse than mine.
“So, who is she?” she asked him.
He looked up, startled. “What?”
“Whoever it is that you’re trying to forget in the bottom of that glass.”
He blinked at the glass in question and deliberately placed it back on the bar top. When Donna still stared at him, he shifted uncomfortably. “Just a girl I met.”
She eyed him. “You look a bit old to be picking up ‘girls.’”
“She was different,” he said.
“What was her name, then?”
He paused and his eyes became distant. “Her name was Rose.”
Donna’s skin tingled at the phrase, but she put it down to the way he said it-full of reverence and wonder and grief. Or was she imagining it?
He was clearly getting irritated but she persisted. “What happened?”
“I asked her to come with me, she said no.” The flat tone of his voice was jarring compared to his previous statement.
Donna snorted. “Smart girl,” she said, ignoring his glare. “Who goes off with some bloke they’ve just met? For all she knows, you could be a serial killer.”
He stiffened for a fraction of a second before settling into a frown. But it was enough to set Donna on edge.
“Oh, my God, you’re not, are you?”
“Course not,” he replied, “don’t be so stupid. But even if I was, I wouldn’t go telling people just ‘cause they asked.”
Donna thought about this and decided that if he was a lunatic, then he wasn’t going to murder her in a roomful of people. “Alright, I’ll give you that. You still haven’t answered my question,” she added and took a sip of her own drink.
His answer was so low it was almost a growl. “She had a boyfriend.”
Donna smiled. She knew about this kind of situation, had seen it a dozen times. “You were having an affair,” she stated.
“No!” he said, rounding on her. “I told you, I only met her a few days ago.” He seemed to slacken and his voice lowered. “She saved my life.”
She almost, almost, rolled her eyes. The damsel-in-distress routine was never attractive on men, especially this one. “Wait a minute,” she said, smiling. “Am I being set up? Are there cameras hidden somewhere?”
He looked at her as if she’s just asked whether Hiroshima was a good vacation spot in the 1940s. “What? No, there aren’t any cameras. Why’d you think there would be cameras?”
“Well, it is a bit BBC Drama, isn’t it? ‘She saved my life, now I’m in love with her, but she won’t leave her boyfriend for me.’ How old’s this girl, anyway?”
He had returned to glaring at the tumbler, and Donna didn’t think she’d get another word out of him until he spoke quietly, in the same tone in which he had said her name.
“She’d be 24.”
No matter how much he appeared to brush her off, Donna could tell that he wanted to talk about this Rose. And, against her better judgement, she was getting interested, too. So she needled him into defending her. “Ha! No wonder! Her lad’s probably younger than you. Better looking, too, I’d imagine.”
“What’s your name?” he asked, eyes fixed on her again.
“Donna Noble,” she blurted without thinking. Damn! Now he could find her if he wanted to.
“Listen here, Donna Noble,” he said, leaning close, “her idiot boyfriend doesn’t matter. Her pointless job doesn’t matter. Her selfish mother doesn’t matter. Because right here, right now, all that mattered was her. And tomorrow, I have to move on. So don’t go talking like she’s better off where she is.” He had turned hard again, and Donna started to feel a kind of awe-filled fear for the first time.
“Right,” she said. “Conviction like that deserves a drink. What’re you having?”
“Brandy.” The morose flatness had returned to his voice.
“Brandy it is, then.” She ordered and looked at him sidelong. “I don’t know your name.”
“Smith. John Smith.”
Donna really rolled her eyes this time. “John Smith? Sure, why not?”
They drank in silence; him wrapped up in his own head, her trying to gauge what to say next.
“I probably shouldn’t ask,” she started, “I mean, seems like she dodged a bullet with you; but why let her go? If she was so special, why let her walk away?”
He tilted his head, still not looking at her. “I asked her once, she said no. There’s no point in asking again.”
“God, you’re thick,” Donna said. He looked up and blinked in surprise. “What did you think would happen? You don’t just spring something like that on someone, asking them to leave everything behind for a stranger. No wonder she turned you down. Probably scared her out of her wits.”
He stared at her again. She was almost getting used to it. This gaze had a touch of uncertainty about it, as if he had never thought about it from Rose’s point of view. “You think she’d change her mind?”
“Well, maybe, if you gave her time to think about it. If you actually wanted to ask again. You seem pretty set on giving up on her.”
For the first time, he smiled. It was a small smile, a half-smile really, but his face lost its hardness and he looked almost gleeful. “Donna Noble, you are something else.”
She thought about her day (month, year, life) and said, “No, I’m just ordinary. It’s that Rose of yours who’s special, if she can get a smile out of you.”
He looked her over again, like he was searching her for something. He seemed to have forgotten his annoyance with her. “No, you’re special, too. There’s something about you, Donna Noble, something familiar.” He leaned close again. “You’re something fantastic.”
The sincerity in his voice and face almost had her, until she leaned forward and said, “And, you, John Smith, are shameless. Save that flirting for Rose.”
That put him in his place, judging from his amazed expression. If he’s already stealing one woman from her boyfriend, no need for him to try it on with her, too. And she told him as much.
He laughed once, twice, then harder and harder until he was gripping the bar for support. Despite what he’d said earlier, now she was sure that this was an elaborate prank. When he managed to get his breath back he raised his glass. “To Donna Noble, a most interesting and insightful woman.”
Donna raised her own glass and said, “To John Smith, a most confusing and dirty old man.” They clinked glasses and he stood up, draining his. He patted himself down, and faced her.
“Thank you, Donna. I don’t give many people a second chance, but you’ve convinced me otherwise.”
“I didn’t do anything, not really. I just asked you about her.”
“Oh, do you have to go and ruin it? Take some credit, at least. Call it a push in the right direction, yeah?”
Donna shook her head. “I hope this girl knows what she’d getting into with you.”
He grinned craftily. “She has no idea.” At Donna’s frown, he continued. “Oh, don’t worry about her; she can handle herself. You should probably worry more about me.”
He started to walk away, then abruptly turned back. “I never asked, what brought you here?”
“Oh, nothing really. Bad job interview.”
“Hmm.” He stared like he was looking through her. He nodded once and held out his hand. “Have a good life, Donna Noble. I look forward to seeing you again.”
She laughed. “Not in this lifetime,” she said, reaching forward and shaking his hand. Her skin tingled again at his touch; he was strangely cold. “Good luck, John.”
He gave her a half-wave and walked out of the pub. She stared after him for a while, and then gathered herself together and went home to her mother’s shrewish eye and her grandfather’s odd looks.
Years earlier and several kilometres away, a young woman received a rare second chance.
“By the way, did I mention it also travels in time?”