Fic: Valentine’s Day (1/1)
Title: Valentine’s Day
Rating: PG
Characters: Ten, Donna Noble
Word Count: 577
Summary: There had been many companions for him since they’d parted, but none of them had ever compared to her.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Story title inspired by Linkin Park.
Author’s Notes: More of the short and drabbley sort whilst I wrestle with Eclipse in my limited free time. Introspective angst, as a result of listening to my very favorite band - it seems I’m returning to my roots, at any rate, and I should probably get it out of my system before I return to Eclipse, unless I want to jump directly to the sad parts... But yes. Hope you enjoy :)
Valentine’s Day
There had been many companions for him since they’d parted, but none of them had ever compared to her.
At first, he’d been angry. It started our as being angry at fate, which he knew was unreasonable, and moved on to being angry with her, which made him ache deeper than he’d ever known, because it was wrong; a veritable betrayal of his own soul. It ended with him being angry at himself, and that seemed the most fitting, really. It hurt, though - desperately so - and soon enough the anger had trailed off into something closer to despair.
He quickly realized the anger hadn’t been so bad after all.
He was finally alone now, had been for some time, and this time he saw it lasting. It had been too long to measure since last he’d seen her smile, since he’d laughed with her; since she’d wrapped his arms around his shoulders in an embrace that always made the very center of his chest vibrate with the warm knowledge that someone cared, someone cared about him. But now he was with her again, finally; one change of face and an immeasurable amount of heartbreak separating him from the last time he stood before her.
She was silent, of course; from the outside. Inside his mind though, he could hear everything. He could hear her laughter - heavy and loud and unchecked, because that was how his Donna was, really; her yell - equally unbridled,whether in exasperation, in rage, or in genuine excitement; the cadence of her every breath, echoing on into infinity through his mind, and the gallop, the rhythm of her exuberant, honest, jubilant heart beating on in between, a presence he’d carried with him in the very recesses of his soul, a memorial to his dearest friend, his closest confidant; his memories of her compressed and consolidated so that they could fit in the very center of his being, a tight coil of everything that meant the world, tucked away where it couldn’t be touched, couldn’t be tainted.
He wrung his hands, feeling all of a sudden light headed, the stems held hard between his fingers suddenly rough and foreign as his palms grew hot and slick. He was a fool, a coward; and it had cost him dearly with this one. For a man who had all of space and time at his behest, he certainly didn’t seem to comprehend the immediacy of a single day, and of how, when piled up upon itself for too long, the tower of hours would stagger and fall.
Leaving nothing left but a pile on the ground.
It seemed thoughtless - it seemed so insignificant; too little, too late - as he bent over the slab of polished rock, the fresh soil heaped nearby, yet to settle; his vision was hazy from the tears swimming in his eyes, barely daring to fall. He gasped against the emotion; the regret, and fell to his knees, the legs of his trousers soaking quickly in the remnants of the morning’s dew. Biting his lip, he tried not to notice that he’d dropped the bouquet he’d been holding, tried not to ponder too long or too hard upon the fact that the pure, unblemished white blossoms had spilled open and free all around her headstone - beautiful, unfettered; perfect, even against the ground.
She’d always loved lilies.
Rating: PG
Characters: Ten, Donna Noble
Word Count: 577
Summary: There had been many companions for him since they’d parted, but none of them had ever compared to her.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Story title inspired by Linkin Park.
Author’s Notes: More of the short and drabbley sort whilst I wrestle with Eclipse in my limited free time. Introspective angst, as a result of listening to my very favorite band - it seems I’m returning to my roots, at any rate, and I should probably get it out of my system before I return to Eclipse, unless I want to jump directly to the sad parts... But yes. Hope you enjoy :)
Valentine’s Day
There had been many companions for him since they’d parted, but none of them had ever compared to her.
At first, he’d been angry. It started our as being angry at fate, which he knew was unreasonable, and moved on to being angry with her, which made him ache deeper than he’d ever known, because it was wrong; a veritable betrayal of his own soul. It ended with him being angry at himself, and that seemed the most fitting, really. It hurt, though - desperately so - and soon enough the anger had trailed off into something closer to despair.
He quickly realized the anger hadn’t been so bad after all.
He was finally alone now, had been for some time, and this time he saw it lasting. It had been too long to measure since last he’d seen her smile, since he’d laughed with her; since she’d wrapped his arms around his shoulders in an embrace that always made the very center of his chest vibrate with the warm knowledge that someone cared, someone cared about him. But now he was with her again, finally; one change of face and an immeasurable amount of heartbreak separating him from the last time he stood before her.
She was silent, of course; from the outside. Inside his mind though, he could hear everything. He could hear her laughter - heavy and loud and unchecked, because that was how his Donna was, really; her yell - equally unbridled,whether in exasperation, in rage, or in genuine excitement; the cadence of her every breath, echoing on into infinity through his mind, and the gallop, the rhythm of her exuberant, honest, jubilant heart beating on in between, a presence he’d carried with him in the very recesses of his soul, a memorial to his dearest friend, his closest confidant; his memories of her compressed and consolidated so that they could fit in the very center of his being, a tight coil of everything that meant the world, tucked away where it couldn’t be touched, couldn’t be tainted.
He wrung his hands, feeling all of a sudden light headed, the stems held hard between his fingers suddenly rough and foreign as his palms grew hot and slick. He was a fool, a coward; and it had cost him dearly with this one. For a man who had all of space and time at his behest, he certainly didn’t seem to comprehend the immediacy of a single day, and of how, when piled up upon itself for too long, the tower of hours would stagger and fall.
Leaving nothing left but a pile on the ground.
It seemed thoughtless - it seemed so insignificant; too little, too late - as he bent over the slab of polished rock, the fresh soil heaped nearby, yet to settle; his vision was hazy from the tears swimming in his eyes, barely daring to fall. He gasped against the emotion; the regret, and fell to his knees, the legs of his trousers soaking quickly in the remnants of the morning’s dew. Biting his lip, he tried not to notice that he’d dropped the bouquet he’d been holding, tried not to ponder too long or too hard upon the fact that the pure, unblemished white blossoms had spilled open and free all around her headstone - beautiful, unfettered; perfect, even against the ground.
She’d always loved lilies.