Fic: Ask a Woman (1/1)
Title: Ask a Woman
Author: Gillian Taylor
Character/Pairing: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor
Rating: G
Spoilers: Journey's End
Summary: He thinks he knows everything. She knows better.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.
A/N: Thanks, as always, to the brilliant wendymr for BRing. Yes, it's ye ole fixit fic, but I had to do it :)
“Ask a Woman”
by Gillian Taylor
Something’s different. Oh, not about all that silly lot talking about planets in the sky and aliens and flying pepperpots, but something almost fundamental. It’s like she’s forgotten how to breathe, and that’s just ridiculous. Everyone knows how to breathe. Everyone knows how to live.
But for some reason, it’s like she’s learning all over again. One foot in front of the other. Finding a job, attempting to build a life. It should be good. No, it is good, but she’s missing something.
It bothers her, really. Right before she goes to bed at night, she runs through her memories, trying to figure out just what might be missing. It can’t be Lance. She’s glad he’s gone. Wasn’t right for her anyway.
But what could be missing?
She knows her granddad watches her when he thinks she isn’t looking. There’s always something so sad and tragic within his eyes at those times and she’s almost frightened to ask why. Maybe he knows what’s missing. Maybe-?
Maybe she’s been sick? Yes, that’d cover it nicely. She was sick and that’s why she forgot how to do all these normal - human, a part of her adds - things like eating beans on toast, going to work, coming home, having dinner and going to bed. This becomes her pet theory, really. Sickness.
But when she tries to bring it up to her mum, she’s deflected with words like “don’t worry about it” and “you’re fine”. Of course she’s fine now. But what about then?
Her granddad’s even worse. He’s the one who she could always go to, but now it seems like he’s carrying some dreadful secret that he can’t share. More like won’t share to anyone other than his precious stars. It hurts, it really does, because if her mum’s against her and her granddad’s against her, what does she have?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Her nails leave crescent-shaped marks on her skin as her hands clench into fists. She wants to shout at them, to demand they answer, but somehow she knows they won’t. They have their little secrets and she has - what?
A life with something important missing out of it. And that’s just not fair.
She dreams of impossible worlds and creatures. Giant wasps? Tiny creatures made from fat? Giant rock monsters? Beings with tentacles on their faces? It’s madness, complete madness, and yet there’s a part of her that wants to believe in those dreams because despite the terror and fear, there’s always him.
But, each time she tries to focus on him, his face, his clothes, his name, all she gets is a flash of brown and then a wave of pain. Every time she dreams of these impossible things, she wakes with a migraine.
When finally, in a fit of desperation, she resorts to sleeping pills, the dreams stop.
There’s a part of her that misses them.
She runs into him, literally runs on his part, when she’s on her way to work. There’s nothing to him, all skin and bones, but that’s not what strikes her most about him. It’s the look of shocked horror on his face.
“Do I know you?” she asks.
“No. No, not at all. Sorry. So sorry.” And just like that, he’s gone.
She rubs at her temple, wincing at the pain, and heads towards work. When she gets to the office, everyone’s going on about aliens and explosions and someone saving the day.
She doesn’t believe them. But there’s a tiny part of her, buried within the migraine, that does.
She’s climbing up the hill, intent on delivering hot coffee and a blanket to her granddad, when she hears voices.
“I was thinking of you today,” Gramps says. “All those explosions and aliens. I knew you’d come.”
“Furltins. Can’t stand Furltins. They’re all furry and -“
Toothy, her mind adds.
“- toothy and really, really -“
Green.
“- green.”
She stumbles on the path, her head pounding.
“Did you hear something?” that voice asks.
“I think… Donna! Donna, sweetheart, what’re you doing here?” Gramps asks and through her blurry eyes she can see someone darting behind her granddad’s shed.
“Ow,” she says rather ingeniously before the pain sweeps in with a vengeance and her legs give out.
She can vaguely make out two shapes hovering before her before unconsciousness enfolds her and she’s aware of nothing else.
She remembers.
“I asked you not to,” she whispers through the pain, blinking away tears as she stares at him.
The Doctor. How could she have forgotten him? And, around her, the TARDIS. Just as she remembers. Well, just as she remembers now.
Then, it didn’t matter. Then, she didn’t realise exactly how much she was missing. Now she does. She knows. If only it didn’t hurt.
Her granddad hovers around her, looking concerned. “I thought you said she couldn’t remember?”
The Doctor’s face is tragic as he replies, “I did.” Then, to her, he adds, “I know.” There’s an apology there. At least, she thinks there is.
“Take it away again! You said she’s gonna die!” her granddad shouts.
“I can’t.”
“He can’t,” she echoes him at the same time, wincing as her mind seems to spasm in her head. “One-time deal. Can’t hide away what’s come back. Not any more. Thing is, that’s all right. That’s really all right.”
“Donna-“ the Doctor says, her name a study in despair.
“There’s another choice, you git,” she declares and, with one imperious finger, she points towards the Chameleon Arch. “Do I really have to do everything?”
There’s a whole new world outside, thousands of light years away from home. She’s the first to the doors, the first to swing them open and the first to put her feet onto this alien soil.
The doors swing shut behind her and she can feel him just behind her. She doesn’t have to look at him to see his smile. She knows exactly how he feels. Her own grin is threatening to split her face in two.
“Just typical, isn't it? Had to be me who worked out how to cure me. Of course it was,” she says, a teasing lilt in her voice. She turns to face him, poking her finger into his chest. “Never wants to read the manual. Won't ask directions. Just tries to make it up as he goes along and makes a pig's ear out of it.”
She’s never seen his face this expressive before. There are so many emotions there, brimming in his eyes. Guilt seems to be the strongest of them all, though, and she’s not having that.
“Oi, space boy, listen. It’s not your fault, got it? It’s not. I touched your spare hand. You didn’t make me. I was the one who had the biological metacrisis. Well, we did. The other you.” She releases a frustrated breath. She isn’t explaining this properly. “Time was running out, and I get that. I do. You did the only thing you could think of. Mind, it didn’t work. And you forgot that I was just as brilliant as you right there, with that little dash of human intuition. But I’ve come to expect that.”
She moves to his side, bumping his shoulder with her own. “You are, after all, a bloke.”
That startles him into laughter. “Time Lord, thanks.”
“Show me around?” she asks, gesturing vaguely towards what looks like a nearby city.
He holds out his hand, waggling his fingers in invitation. “The universe, Donna Noble. I’ll show you the universe.”
She returns his grin with interest as she folds her fingers around his. “Don’t mind if you do.”
END
x-posted to: dark_aegis, i_love_donna & marriedonmars
Author: Gillian Taylor
Character/Pairing: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor
Rating: G
Spoilers: Journey's End
Summary: He thinks he knows everything. She knows better.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.
A/N: Thanks, as always, to the brilliant wendymr for BRing. Yes, it's ye ole fixit fic, but I had to do it :)
“Ask a Woman”
by Gillian Taylor
Something’s different. Oh, not about all that silly lot talking about planets in the sky and aliens and flying pepperpots, but something almost fundamental. It’s like she’s forgotten how to breathe, and that’s just ridiculous. Everyone knows how to breathe. Everyone knows how to live.
But for some reason, it’s like she’s learning all over again. One foot in front of the other. Finding a job, attempting to build a life. It should be good. No, it is good, but she’s missing something.
It bothers her, really. Right before she goes to bed at night, she runs through her memories, trying to figure out just what might be missing. It can’t be Lance. She’s glad he’s gone. Wasn’t right for her anyway.
But what could be missing?
She knows her granddad watches her when he thinks she isn’t looking. There’s always something so sad and tragic within his eyes at those times and she’s almost frightened to ask why. Maybe he knows what’s missing. Maybe-?
Maybe she’s been sick? Yes, that’d cover it nicely. She was sick and that’s why she forgot how to do all these normal - human, a part of her adds - things like eating beans on toast, going to work, coming home, having dinner and going to bed. This becomes her pet theory, really. Sickness.
But when she tries to bring it up to her mum, she’s deflected with words like “don’t worry about it” and “you’re fine”. Of course she’s fine now. But what about then?
Her granddad’s even worse. He’s the one who she could always go to, but now it seems like he’s carrying some dreadful secret that he can’t share. More like won’t share to anyone other than his precious stars. It hurts, it really does, because if her mum’s against her and her granddad’s against her, what does she have?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Her nails leave crescent-shaped marks on her skin as her hands clench into fists. She wants to shout at them, to demand they answer, but somehow she knows they won’t. They have their little secrets and she has - what?
A life with something important missing out of it. And that’s just not fair.
She dreams of impossible worlds and creatures. Giant wasps? Tiny creatures made from fat? Giant rock monsters? Beings with tentacles on their faces? It’s madness, complete madness, and yet there’s a part of her that wants to believe in those dreams because despite the terror and fear, there’s always him.
But, each time she tries to focus on him, his face, his clothes, his name, all she gets is a flash of brown and then a wave of pain. Every time she dreams of these impossible things, she wakes with a migraine.
When finally, in a fit of desperation, she resorts to sleeping pills, the dreams stop.
There’s a part of her that misses them.
She runs into him, literally runs on his part, when she’s on her way to work. There’s nothing to him, all skin and bones, but that’s not what strikes her most about him. It’s the look of shocked horror on his face.
“Do I know you?” she asks.
“No. No, not at all. Sorry. So sorry.” And just like that, he’s gone.
She rubs at her temple, wincing at the pain, and heads towards work. When she gets to the office, everyone’s going on about aliens and explosions and someone saving the day.
She doesn’t believe them. But there’s a tiny part of her, buried within the migraine, that does.
She’s climbing up the hill, intent on delivering hot coffee and a blanket to her granddad, when she hears voices.
“I was thinking of you today,” Gramps says. “All those explosions and aliens. I knew you’d come.”
“Furltins. Can’t stand Furltins. They’re all furry and -“
Toothy, her mind adds.
“- toothy and really, really -“
Green.
“- green.”
She stumbles on the path, her head pounding.
“Did you hear something?” that voice asks.
“I think… Donna! Donna, sweetheart, what’re you doing here?” Gramps asks and through her blurry eyes she can see someone darting behind her granddad’s shed.
“Ow,” she says rather ingeniously before the pain sweeps in with a vengeance and her legs give out.
She can vaguely make out two shapes hovering before her before unconsciousness enfolds her and she’s aware of nothing else.
She remembers.
“I asked you not to,” she whispers through the pain, blinking away tears as she stares at him.
The Doctor. How could she have forgotten him? And, around her, the TARDIS. Just as she remembers. Well, just as she remembers now.
Then, it didn’t matter. Then, she didn’t realise exactly how much she was missing. Now she does. She knows. If only it didn’t hurt.
Her granddad hovers around her, looking concerned. “I thought you said she couldn’t remember?”
The Doctor’s face is tragic as he replies, “I did.” Then, to her, he adds, “I know.” There’s an apology there. At least, she thinks there is.
“Take it away again! You said she’s gonna die!” her granddad shouts.
“I can’t.”
“He can’t,” she echoes him at the same time, wincing as her mind seems to spasm in her head. “One-time deal. Can’t hide away what’s come back. Not any more. Thing is, that’s all right. That’s really all right.”
“Donna-“ the Doctor says, her name a study in despair.
“There’s another choice, you git,” she declares and, with one imperious finger, she points towards the Chameleon Arch. “Do I really have to do everything?”
There’s a whole new world outside, thousands of light years away from home. She’s the first to the doors, the first to swing them open and the first to put her feet onto this alien soil.
The doors swing shut behind her and she can feel him just behind her. She doesn’t have to look at him to see his smile. She knows exactly how he feels. Her own grin is threatening to split her face in two.
“Just typical, isn't it? Had to be me who worked out how to cure me. Of course it was,” she says, a teasing lilt in her voice. She turns to face him, poking her finger into his chest. “Never wants to read the manual. Won't ask directions. Just tries to make it up as he goes along and makes a pig's ear out of it.”
She’s never seen his face this expressive before. There are so many emotions there, brimming in his eyes. Guilt seems to be the strongest of them all, though, and she’s not having that.
“Oi, space boy, listen. It’s not your fault, got it? It’s not. I touched your spare hand. You didn’t make me. I was the one who had the biological metacrisis. Well, we did. The other you.” She releases a frustrated breath. She isn’t explaining this properly. “Time was running out, and I get that. I do. You did the only thing you could think of. Mind, it didn’t work. And you forgot that I was just as brilliant as you right there, with that little dash of human intuition. But I’ve come to expect that.”
She moves to his side, bumping his shoulder with her own. “You are, after all, a bloke.”
That startles him into laughter. “Time Lord, thanks.”
“Show me around?” she asks, gesturing vaguely towards what looks like a nearby city.
He holds out his hand, waggling his fingers in invitation. “The universe, Donna Noble. I’ll show you the universe.”
She returns his grin with interest as she folds her fingers around his. “Don’t mind if you do.”
END
x-posted to: dark_aegis, i_love_donna & marriedonmars