Timestamp Meme Fic: Alien Eyes
Title: Alien Eyes
Author: Tess/mihane_echo
Rating: Rated G for gooey
Word Count: 1347
Spoilers: None
Summary: Donna wants to know how the Doctor sees her.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to the Beeb and I'm borrowing it to play with. I promise I will return them (marginally) unharmed. ;3
Author's Note: time_converges requested flippin forever ago, so sorry love the third day after Alien Voices in my timestamp meme. FINALLY, an idea came to me. And here it be.
When you look at me,
I can see the beginning in your eyes
I want you at my side for everything
all our lows, and all our highs
Three days after he "serenaded" her, Donna's memorised one whole verse.
Just that one verse, but she's proud of herself just the same for learning that bit of tricky Gallifreyan. In the language of the Time Lords, there are various, complicated nuances and tenses, upon which she's been lectured many times between the short lessons the Doctor gives her. (And even earning those was a right palaver. Getting him to settle down long enough to help her with syntax is like Summoning the telly remote from the coffee table using Accio: only fictional characters in Rowling's wizarding world get that luxury.)
But those few lines, she has down pat. Sitting in the library with a favorite Christie, she sings the words softly under her breath when she hears the Doctor come in.
She expects the usual light groan and roll of his eyes, but as he wanders into her field of vision, rubbing a damp towel over his short hair, she catches a smile instead. His face, flush from a hot shower, is half-hidden beneath the towel, but it's definitely one of his mischievous toothy grins.
"What are you smiling about?" she wonders.
He scrubs the towel again over his head. His mouth turns down in pronounced innocence. "Nothing." And then that overly pleased smile is on his face again.
It's getting on her nerves.
"What have you got to be amused about, Spaceman?" Donna grins smugly, sure that further egging will provoke him. "You're the one what sang to me, remember?"
"Yeah, I know," he says, but he isn't annoyed or even embarrassed anymore. "It's just... cute." He hesitates, letting the word hang there as though testing it, then he nods, satisfied with his choice. "Cute."
Donna blinks. "Cute."
"Yeah." The Doctor plunks down on the end of the sofa opposite her, lets the towel slip down around his thin shoulders over the collar of his shirt. "A little bit like a child repeating a word he doesn't know the meaning of."
Donna fails to see how that is cute, and so can't help her initial reaction of getting her back up. "Oi, I know what I'm saying," she says stiffly. "And I know it isn't some horrid curse, either!"
The Doctor's eyebrows go up. "I wasn't being cheeky, I just meant..." He repeats a line to her in quiet, precise Gallifreyan and then tips his head in a placating way. "It sounds a little awkward when you say it without understanding its full meaning."
Donna's brow furrows in frustration. Partially because a patronising Time Lord, even if he doesn't mean to be, is just plain frustrating-- and then, partially because she can actually see what he means.
Or hear it, rather.
It sounds meaningful when he says those words, tender and filled with subtle intimacy. And admittedly, every time she says it, it does sound like she's hollering into an audience from center stage of a tawdry musical in the West End.
Just the same, she's thoroughly miffed now. "How hard could 'I can see the beginning in your eyes' possibly be to understand?"
"Well, that's the thing, you're thinking about it metaphorically." The Doctor leans back into the cushions, drawing one of his long legs up underneath him. "It's meant literally."
"Literally."
"Mhm."
"As in, I can literally see our future in your eyes." One eyebrow goes up and her mouth tightens even more.
His head bobs in a curt nod. "Yeah."
Donna regards him quietly for a moment and then says, "So you Time Lords had doctorates in taking the mickey--"
That smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth again. "Honestly. It's... Well, it's sort of what I meant when I told you I can see events that are fixed and those that are in flux. I can see time, Donna. The concrete past and the endless futures, all of them held over the present like a pane of glass, colliding together and yet never entwining."
This gets her attention, and Donna closes her book over her finger, patiently listening. She can't help but be curious now. "How does that work?"
His lips purse together. "You know how there's a sensory center in the brain, it controls the somatic, auditory, visual systems, so on and so forth." At her nod, he says, "Mine's quite a bit bigger, because in addition to all the normal senses you have, I also have a spatiotemporal sense."
"Time sense," she says, understanding already.
"Exactly. And it's connected to and presides over all my other senses, so I can actually see time folding around something. I can feel the turn of a planet under my feet; I can taste the changing of the seasons in the air. I could probably hear it if I wanted it to be the last thing I ever heard." He winces, as if imagining a terrible, head-explodey fate. "Time's not very forgiving on the cochlea."
Donna smirks at his soft attempt at humor, more concerned than impressed by what he's just revealed. She can't really conceive of what that would look like, what that would feel like. Or how it must affect him, watching time spread out around him like a tide rushing away from the shore before a tsunami, being the only one left who can sense time like that.
She pushes away thoughts of Pompeii. "Doesn't that get a bit harrying? I think I'd go mental."
He waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, Time Lords have much more control over our brains and our bodies than humans do. I can turn the volume down whenever I want to."
"So you don't see my future or my past or whatever every time you look at me?"
He gives her a tender smile. "No, I just see you."
Donna pauses. She would never in a million years let on how incredibly tempted she is right now. Curiosity billows up in her mind and tingles in her lips and her hands. She bites her lip for a moment, then screws up a posture that feels very casual and moves closer to him. Gently her fingers come down over his temples, the way his fell on hers when they were on the Oodsphere.
Her thumbs smooth over the creases and lines in his forehead and the corners of his eyes, studying his dark brown irises as though she could see what he saw if she gazed at him long enough, into him deeply enough. He watches her silently as she does.
Finally, she sighs. "If you did... I mean, if you were to turn on your time goggles, or whatever, and look at me... What would my past look like to you?"
"They're not time goggles," he says with thin exasperation, and she smirks. Only Donna Noble could reduce his otherwise impressive ability to such a juvenile term. But then he presses his lips together, eyes wandering over her face, drinking in the loveliness of her, the familiarity.
"If I were to look into your past, I would see people whose lives you touched and never knew it," he says. "People who know your name and your face and who think of you fondly, even if you only ever came into their world for a small moment in time."
For one brief moment, Donna wonders if the Doctor includes himself on that list, if he thought of her again after that Christmas. She swallows thickly and then tips her head.
"And what does my future look like? And don't say there's a tall, dark and handsome stranger," she scolds, before he can even begin to joke. "You're not a crystal ball, Spaceman."
The Doctor's tongue peeks out between his teeth when he grins. "You shine, Donna."
She rolls her eyes. "Uh-huh."
"No, you do." He pushes her ginger curls away from her forehead and exhales deeply. Then he speaks softly to her in Gallifreyan.
"I can see the beginning in your eyes."
Afterward, whenever he said that she was brilliant, Donna began to believe him, just the tiniest bit.
end
Author: Tess/mihane_echo
Rating: Rated G for gooey
Word Count: 1347
Spoilers: None
Summary: Donna wants to know how the Doctor sees her.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to the Beeb and I'm borrowing it to play with. I promise I will return them (marginally) unharmed. ;3
Author's Note: time_converges requested flippin forever ago, so sorry love the third day after Alien Voices in my timestamp meme. FINALLY, an idea came to me. And here it be.
When you look at me,
I can see the beginning in your eyes
I want you at my side for everything
all our lows, and all our highs
Three days after he "serenaded" her, Donna's memorised one whole verse.
Just that one verse, but she's proud of herself just the same for learning that bit of tricky Gallifreyan. In the language of the Time Lords, there are various, complicated nuances and tenses, upon which she's been lectured many times between the short lessons the Doctor gives her. (And even earning those was a right palaver. Getting him to settle down long enough to help her with syntax is like Summoning the telly remote from the coffee table using Accio: only fictional characters in Rowling's wizarding world get that luxury.)
But those few lines, she has down pat. Sitting in the library with a favorite Christie, she sings the words softly under her breath when she hears the Doctor come in.
She expects the usual light groan and roll of his eyes, but as he wanders into her field of vision, rubbing a damp towel over his short hair, she catches a smile instead. His face, flush from a hot shower, is half-hidden beneath the towel, but it's definitely one of his mischievous toothy grins.
"What are you smiling about?" she wonders.
He scrubs the towel again over his head. His mouth turns down in pronounced innocence. "Nothing." And then that overly pleased smile is on his face again.
It's getting on her nerves.
"What have you got to be amused about, Spaceman?" Donna grins smugly, sure that further egging will provoke him. "You're the one what sang to me, remember?"
"Yeah, I know," he says, but he isn't annoyed or even embarrassed anymore. "It's just... cute." He hesitates, letting the word hang there as though testing it, then he nods, satisfied with his choice. "Cute."
Donna blinks. "Cute."
"Yeah." The Doctor plunks down on the end of the sofa opposite her, lets the towel slip down around his thin shoulders over the collar of his shirt. "A little bit like a child repeating a word he doesn't know the meaning of."
Donna fails to see how that is cute, and so can't help her initial reaction of getting her back up. "Oi, I know what I'm saying," she says stiffly. "And I know it isn't some horrid curse, either!"
The Doctor's eyebrows go up. "I wasn't being cheeky, I just meant..." He repeats a line to her in quiet, precise Gallifreyan and then tips his head in a placating way. "It sounds a little awkward when you say it without understanding its full meaning."
Donna's brow furrows in frustration. Partially because a patronising Time Lord, even if he doesn't mean to be, is just plain frustrating-- and then, partially because she can actually see what he means.
Or hear it, rather.
It sounds meaningful when he says those words, tender and filled with subtle intimacy. And admittedly, every time she says it, it does sound like she's hollering into an audience from center stage of a tawdry musical in the West End.
Just the same, she's thoroughly miffed now. "How hard could 'I can see the beginning in your eyes' possibly be to understand?"
"Well, that's the thing, you're thinking about it metaphorically." The Doctor leans back into the cushions, drawing one of his long legs up underneath him. "It's meant literally."
"Literally."
"Mhm."
"As in, I can literally see our future in your eyes." One eyebrow goes up and her mouth tightens even more.
His head bobs in a curt nod. "Yeah."
Donna regards him quietly for a moment and then says, "So you Time Lords had doctorates in taking the mickey--"
That smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth again. "Honestly. It's... Well, it's sort of what I meant when I told you I can see events that are fixed and those that are in flux. I can see time, Donna. The concrete past and the endless futures, all of them held over the present like a pane of glass, colliding together and yet never entwining."
This gets her attention, and Donna closes her book over her finger, patiently listening. She can't help but be curious now. "How does that work?"
His lips purse together. "You know how there's a sensory center in the brain, it controls the somatic, auditory, visual systems, so on and so forth." At her nod, he says, "Mine's quite a bit bigger, because in addition to all the normal senses you have, I also have a spatiotemporal sense."
"Time sense," she says, understanding already.
"Exactly. And it's connected to and presides over all my other senses, so I can actually see time folding around something. I can feel the turn of a planet under my feet; I can taste the changing of the seasons in the air. I could probably hear it if I wanted it to be the last thing I ever heard." He winces, as if imagining a terrible, head-explodey fate. "Time's not very forgiving on the cochlea."
Donna smirks at his soft attempt at humor, more concerned than impressed by what he's just revealed. She can't really conceive of what that would look like, what that would feel like. Or how it must affect him, watching time spread out around him like a tide rushing away from the shore before a tsunami, being the only one left who can sense time like that.
She pushes away thoughts of Pompeii. "Doesn't that get a bit harrying? I think I'd go mental."
He waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, Time Lords have much more control over our brains and our bodies than humans do. I can turn the volume down whenever I want to."
"So you don't see my future or my past or whatever every time you look at me?"
He gives her a tender smile. "No, I just see you."
Donna pauses. She would never in a million years let on how incredibly tempted she is right now. Curiosity billows up in her mind and tingles in her lips and her hands. She bites her lip for a moment, then screws up a posture that feels very casual and moves closer to him. Gently her fingers come down over his temples, the way his fell on hers when they were on the Oodsphere.
Her thumbs smooth over the creases and lines in his forehead and the corners of his eyes, studying his dark brown irises as though she could see what he saw if she gazed at him long enough, into him deeply enough. He watches her silently as she does.
Finally, she sighs. "If you did... I mean, if you were to turn on your time goggles, or whatever, and look at me... What would my past look like to you?"
"They're not time goggles," he says with thin exasperation, and she smirks. Only Donna Noble could reduce his otherwise impressive ability to such a juvenile term. But then he presses his lips together, eyes wandering over her face, drinking in the loveliness of her, the familiarity.
"If I were to look into your past, I would see people whose lives you touched and never knew it," he says. "People who know your name and your face and who think of you fondly, even if you only ever came into their world for a small moment in time."
For one brief moment, Donna wonders if the Doctor includes himself on that list, if he thought of her again after that Christmas. She swallows thickly and then tips her head.
"And what does my future look like? And don't say there's a tall, dark and handsome stranger," she scolds, before he can even begin to joke. "You're not a crystal ball, Spaceman."
The Doctor's tongue peeks out between his teeth when he grins. "You shine, Donna."
She rolls her eyes. "Uh-huh."
"No, you do." He pushes her ginger curls away from her forehead and exhales deeply. Then he speaks softly to her in Gallifreyan.
"I can see the beginning in your eyes."
Afterward, whenever he said that she was brilliant, Donna began to believe him, just the tiniest bit.
end