Just Be
Title: Just Be
Author: Tess/mihane_echo
Rating: Rated BAWWCrymoar for angst
Word Count: 891
Spoilers: Through 4.13 Journey's End
Summary: The Doctor says goodbye to Donna.
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: One should not have access to a computer when they are experiencing emotional fallout from rewatching JE. Things like this happen.
She falls into his arms and the impact of her cheek against his chest is the impact that tears his hearts into tiny pieces. For a long while the Doctor stands there frozen, holding Donna to him, drawing out the time he has until he must certainly take her back. For now, she is still his, and he needs his time to mourn, his time to burn her image, her voice, into his mind before he can never see her again. It absolutely isn't guilt that mires him in one place. He had to do it, he tells himself over and over. Had to, had to, had to. As if saying it repeatedly can erase his agony, stopper it, ease it, tolerate it, ignore it.
Her gentle weight becomes too much for his arms but he isn't ready to let go yet. He slowly, carefully, kneels to the grating floor of the TARDIS, arranges her on his lap. Her head falls back, cradled in the crook of his elbow, her sleeping face turned towards him. He tenderly pulls her hair away from her face, tucks the strands behind her ear. She's so beautiful. The most important woman in the universe.
It hurts, as though grief were a tangible thing pouring from his chest and tightening in his fists. A sob issues unbidden from his throat and he bites hard on his lip. How would he continue without her? Donna had been the one to save his life, pull him back. Oh, so many times.
When there had been only darkness and misery after Rose, a loudmouthed hitchhiking bride from Chiswick had been the lighthouse in the distance, promising salvation and hope to the lost at sea. He dreaded to imagine what might've happened had he faced the Racnoss without her. How much farther into the dark place could he have fallen, how much revenge could he have exacted before his grief would have been sated?
Even when she had rebuffed him, she had been honest. And kind.
Find someone.
And he had. Martha had been brilliant, lovely, wonderful. Saved him, as they always did.
And then left him, as they always did.
It seemed like that was his purpose. Show his human companions the universe, show them their place, show them the strength he knew them to have. And then turn them loose to blaze their own path.
It left him alone. Always alone. Of course, the universe was filled with new people, new dreamers and thinkers waiting to see the world and just looking for an outlet, and when he caught their attention they would undoubtedly follow. He could always find someone else, someone new.
But he so wanted some measure of stability. One constant, one person that could stay with him forever. Be the familiar face to smile with in the dark and the danger. Be the home to return to when the storm was over.
And who should find him, again, inexplicably, but Donna Noble.
That just didn't happen. The odds of it happening weren't impossible, just a bit unlikely, but even then it was unlikely enough to surprise even him. So often, he went actively looking for mates, for companions to travel at his side. And through all his years and all his lives, Donna Noble had found him twice. She could always find him.
She was special. Oh, was she ever. And so insecure and small; he had tried so hard. Drill it into her, make her believe him. You are brilliant. You are special. You're my Donna. Of course you're special.
Would she retain that, he wonders. He hadn't erased her memory; that was impossible. He had only blocked it. It was still there, lying dormant within her, so it was entirely possible she could remember the courage she possessed, the innate strength that she had shared with him. He wants to believe that she can.
He wants to believe that she will wake up tomorrow and be the same woman she was with him: more confident, more self-assured. She won't falter. She will do what his companions have always done when they go home: she'll blaze her own trail and shine as brightly as she ever had when she was with him.
He knows she can. He knows she can because the Donna he loves knows that she is smart. He sees her going back to school, becoming a teacher or a counselor, a position in which she can share her strength and her experience with the people around her, the people what need her compassion. He knows she can because the Donna he loves knows that she is beautiful. He can see her marrying some fellow who adores her ginger hair and can't stop touching it, who cherishes every moment he's granted to feel her skin, grasp her hand, hold her close.
He knows Donna has so much to give because she gave it to him, and he loves her for that. His vision grows blurry and the first tears slip down his cheeks; the Doctor leans forward, dropping his head against hers. He cups her face with his free hand, strokes her cheek, combs through her hair.
"Be everything you were with me," he says to her, rocking her sleeping form gently in his arms. "Be magnificent. Be brilliant."
Just... be Donna.
end
Author: Tess/mihane_echo
Rating: Rated BAWWCrymoar for angst
Word Count: 891
Spoilers: Through 4.13 Journey's End
Summary: The Doctor says goodbye to Donna.
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: One should not have access to a computer when they are experiencing emotional fallout from rewatching JE. Things like this happen.
She falls into his arms and the impact of her cheek against his chest is the impact that tears his hearts into tiny pieces. For a long while the Doctor stands there frozen, holding Donna to him, drawing out the time he has until he must certainly take her back. For now, she is still his, and he needs his time to mourn, his time to burn her image, her voice, into his mind before he can never see her again. It absolutely isn't guilt that mires him in one place. He had to do it, he tells himself over and over. Had to, had to, had to. As if saying it repeatedly can erase his agony, stopper it, ease it, tolerate it, ignore it.
Her gentle weight becomes too much for his arms but he isn't ready to let go yet. He slowly, carefully, kneels to the grating floor of the TARDIS, arranges her on his lap. Her head falls back, cradled in the crook of his elbow, her sleeping face turned towards him. He tenderly pulls her hair away from her face, tucks the strands behind her ear. She's so beautiful. The most important woman in the universe.
It hurts, as though grief were a tangible thing pouring from his chest and tightening in his fists. A sob issues unbidden from his throat and he bites hard on his lip. How would he continue without her? Donna had been the one to save his life, pull him back. Oh, so many times.
When there had been only darkness and misery after Rose, a loudmouthed hitchhiking bride from Chiswick had been the lighthouse in the distance, promising salvation and hope to the lost at sea. He dreaded to imagine what might've happened had he faced the Racnoss without her. How much farther into the dark place could he have fallen, how much revenge could he have exacted before his grief would have been sated?
Even when she had rebuffed him, she had been honest. And kind.
Find someone.
And he had. Martha had been brilliant, lovely, wonderful. Saved him, as they always did.
And then left him, as they always did.
It seemed like that was his purpose. Show his human companions the universe, show them their place, show them the strength he knew them to have. And then turn them loose to blaze their own path.
It left him alone. Always alone. Of course, the universe was filled with new people, new dreamers and thinkers waiting to see the world and just looking for an outlet, and when he caught their attention they would undoubtedly follow. He could always find someone else, someone new.
But he so wanted some measure of stability. One constant, one person that could stay with him forever. Be the familiar face to smile with in the dark and the danger. Be the home to return to when the storm was over.
And who should find him, again, inexplicably, but Donna Noble.
That just didn't happen. The odds of it happening weren't impossible, just a bit unlikely, but even then it was unlikely enough to surprise even him. So often, he went actively looking for mates, for companions to travel at his side. And through all his years and all his lives, Donna Noble had found him twice. She could always find him.
She was special. Oh, was she ever. And so insecure and small; he had tried so hard. Drill it into her, make her believe him. You are brilliant. You are special. You're my Donna. Of course you're special.
Would she retain that, he wonders. He hadn't erased her memory; that was impossible. He had only blocked it. It was still there, lying dormant within her, so it was entirely possible she could remember the courage she possessed, the innate strength that she had shared with him. He wants to believe that she can.
He wants to believe that she will wake up tomorrow and be the same woman she was with him: more confident, more self-assured. She won't falter. She will do what his companions have always done when they go home: she'll blaze her own trail and shine as brightly as she ever had when she was with him.
He knows she can. He knows she can because the Donna he loves knows that she is smart. He sees her going back to school, becoming a teacher or a counselor, a position in which she can share her strength and her experience with the people around her, the people what need her compassion. He knows she can because the Donna he loves knows that she is beautiful. He can see her marrying some fellow who adores her ginger hair and can't stop touching it, who cherishes every moment he's granted to feel her skin, grasp her hand, hold her close.
He knows Donna has so much to give because she gave it to him, and he loves her for that. His vision grows blurry and the first tears slip down his cheeks; the Doctor leans forward, dropping his head against hers. He cups her face with his free hand, strokes her cheek, combs through her hair.
"Be everything you were with me," he says to her, rocking her sleeping form gently in his arms. "Be magnificent. Be brilliant."
Just... be Donna.
end