fic: children of time (12/14)
Title: Children of Time: The Noblest Donna Of Them All
Characters: Donna Noble and the Doctor.
Rating: PG
Summary: Following on from Journey's End...
Index Post
The Noblest Donna Of Them All
Donna has never been here before, and yet she feels a flutter of nostalgia as she materialises in the lower halls of the Capitol, the heart of the Gallifreyan Citadel. The nostalgia is swiftly replaced by fear and the surge of adrenaline as she takes in her surroundings, expected and yet it’s still a shock: it is the end of the war, and Gallifrey has fallen.
The smell of burning suffuses the air and there is clear structural damage to the great arches and supports, but the Capitol has its own special defences and will stand against the final Dalek assault for a few hours more.
Donna searches her memories for some reassurance that the Doctor has, in fact, engaged in plans far more dubious than her current one, and gains some small measure of satisfaction to know that, on the grand scale of his plans, hers seems pretty sensible really. But even that small comfort evaporates as she passes a breach in the wall and is able to take in the view, reaching far out across the Citadel. The great spiral towers at the edge of the city have fallen, their shattered remains surrounded by great swarms of Daleks. The sky is black with their ships and she can see the bright criss-cross of exchanges of fire still taking place in isolated parts of the city.
There’s no sound though, giving the tableau an unreal, nightmarish quality. The shields protecting the very heart of the Gallifreyan civilisation seal all within off from the outside world and now that they are active the Daleks within can be picked off and those without will have to breach the very lowest levels of the Citadel before they can finally reach the Panoptican.
Donna passes bodies: squads of Chancellery Guards, a handful of robed Time Lords, two or three students in their plain black Academy robes. Most of them are armed; all have their eyes open, their faces twisted in pain at the moment of death. She hurries on, mindful that so many dead can only mean that there are most likely Daleks still active in this area and hoping only that she does not see any fallen that the Doctor’s memories might allow her to recognise.
There isn’t any real cover, the hallways are wide and tall, but she keeps next to the walls and walks as softly as she can, her ears straining to pick up any sounds that might be a clue as to what lies ahead of her. She doesn’t have much time, but if she gets herself killed en route then it’s hardly going to matter one way or another, and she really, really doesn’t want to go out via Dalek blast.
She’d expected it to be quiet but as she descends further down, heading towards the Panoptican, she still hasn’t seen a single other living soul. The silence is unsettling, and the whole place has the air of a particularly ostentatious tomb. Still, at least she knows that the Doctor is here, alive and terrified and utterly determined to finish it all, no matter what the cost. She knows that he doesn’t expect to still be alive at the end of the day.
There’s a flash of memory in her mind’s eye: burning, time screaming around her in a fiery whirlwind, breathlessness.
She pauses. Poking at the Doctor’s memories in the middle of a warzone? So very not a good idea.
Suddenly something snakes around her neck and pulls her back, off-balance, and she feels a cool, sharp edge pressed against her throat. Her heart races, her hands clutch at the attacking arm, but it’s strong and hard with muscle and... this is Gallifrey and someone’s threatening her with a knife?
“Leela?” she tries cautiously. She remembers the Doctor’s friend being impulsive at the best of times, and with the planet on the brink of defeat and Daleks everywhere, she’s profoundly grateful she’s still alive at all.
The arm moves quickly, the knife vanishing, and Donna finds herself spun round and pushed away. Leela of the Sevateem stands in front of her, her hair in disarray, her limbs bruised and bloodied and the knife held steady, still only a few inches away from her. Then she sees her eyes and can’t hold back the gasp of horror. “You’re blind,” says Donna, the shock her own and the Doctor’s, “what happened? Was it the Daleks?”
“Quiet,” says Leela, her voice low. “It does not matter, and do not think that because I cannot see you, I do not know precisely where you are. I do not know your voice. Who are you?”
“Donna Noble, I’m a friend of the Doctor’s. I have to find him.”
“He has not mentioned you,” says Leela, her voice laced with suspicion.
“We haven’t met yet,” Donna says.
Leela frowns. “There is a proper order to things that Time Lords have little respect for. One thing should follow another; they should not be all twisted round like you make them. It is not natural.”
“I’m not a Time Lord.”
The knife moves closer, her voice is harsher. “Then what are you?”
“Human,” says Donna, “and I really have to go.” She moves but the knife flashes out, missing her face but the knife-edge hovers just in front of her eyes. She holds her breath, her eyes fixed on the blade.
“Step back, human,” says Leela. “You will explain yourself to me or you will not pass. There are no humans on Gallifrey, not now.”
“It’s complicated, I mean really, really complicated and there isn’t much time left. You know what the Doctor’s going to do, right?” She speaks quickly struggling for the Doctor’s memories of Leela, looking for something that might help her now.
“He has a plan,” says Leela, and Donna can hear the faith in her voice, the absolute certainty that the Doctor knows what he’s doing and what he’s doing is right.
“I’ve a better one,” says Donna. “Look, I know you don’t know me, but I know you, Leela.”
She tilts her head. “You know me in my future?”
“No, we’ve never met,” says Donna. “I know you because he knows you, because I’ve got the Doctor’s memories inside me. I know that he’s in the Panoptican right now with a modified reality bomb designed to take out the Daleks using the power of the Eye of Harmony but there’s no way to use it without destroying the Time Lords as well. I know that you don’t understand how a bigger box can fit inside a smaller one or why it’s wrong to use Janus thorns. I know that he’s asked you to guard these halls, but you don’t understand the fear you can see in his eyes. I know he’s sorry, Leela, and that you’re angry because you...” She swallows, because she can see the tension in the woman’s arm and she’s not sure if she’s going to strike out at her or not.
Leela lowers the knife. “I am angry because I could not save Romana.”
“I know,” says Donna quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“I was too late and she was not careful. She was arrogant and foolish.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that about Time Lords.”
Leela’s head snaps up, and she seems to look right at her, though Donna knows she can’t see. “Do not make light of it. She was also brave and greatly learned. If I could have given my life to save her, it would have been an easy choice to make.”
Donna takes a breath. “I can save her.”
“I have seen Time Lords bring back the dead before, but almost all their great technology is now in the hands of the metal monsters.”
“I mean,” says Donna, “I can stop her from dying in the first place. I can stop this, all of this. I can save Gallifrey and the Time Lords.”
“Even the Doctor could not do that,” says Leela, as though that settles the matter as impossible.
“And I’m him, him with a lot of human mixed in with all his knowledge and memories and I can think of things he’d never be able to imagine and I can do this, Leela, I can save the Time Lords, if you let me pass.”
“You have the Doctor’s mind?”
“Yes,” says Donna.
“And your own too?”
“Yes.”
Leela is silent a moment, thinking. “Romana did not truly understand the value of instinct nor could she see the point of faith, but once we visited a paradise world where our minds were swapped and it was then, seeing the universe from my perspective, that she could accept those things as being important, and I could better understand her trust in reason and science. It is something like that you are speaking of?”
“Yes,” says Donna, “in a way.”
Leela steps back. “He will be angry I have done this, Donna Noble, but I sense no lies from you. You may pass.”
“Thank you,” says Donna, and turns to go. She pauses as Leela moves back amongst the shadows, silent as a ghost. “What about you?” she asks, knowing Leela’s skill as a warrior and yet repelled at the idea of leaving a blind woman alone in these corridors with Daleks patrolling the area.
Leela smiles, showing her teeth, and suddenly seems far less vulnerable. “I still have many prey to hunt,” she says, her eagerness at the prospect evident.
“With a knife?” Donna says, trying to keep her scepticism out of her voice.
“The Time Lords did not do well again the metal ones with their stasers,” she tells Donna, “but I can pierce their eye sockets and leave them as blind as I am. There are many high catwalks amongst the hallways and these Daleks do not know the passages as I do.”
It doesn’t sound like much to Donna, but the strength and confidence in Leela’s voice is undeniable. “Good luck,” she says, wishing she could do more.
“Go now, find the Doctor, and do not worry for me, Donna Noble, for I shall have a good death.”
-
Donna hurries now, confident that the corridors ahead would be clear of any mortal danger. Leela would not have let a Dalek slip past her when she had sworn herself to protecting the Doctor.
She finds the way down to the Panoptican gallery and peers down to the floor below, and finds it empty. She breathes a sigh of relief for the last thing that the Doctor would have to do before setting off the bomb would be to open the floor of the Panoptican, allowing him access to the source of the Time Lords’ great power, the Eye of Harmony.
“Whoever you are, I’m afraid you’re far too late.” Donna jumps, looks around, but can’t locate the source of the voice. It echoes across the chamber, coming from somewhere below.
“Doctor?” Donna calls back. Her voice is anything but weak, but it pales in comparison to his shout. He must, she imagines, be furious, or terrified.
The Doctor steps out from behind one of the great pillars rising up at the back of the presidential platform. He’s wearing the Sash of Rassilon, one of the artifacts needed to gain access to the Eye, and looks remarkably kempt, though the frockcoat’s missing, as is the cravat, and he’s rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Who are you?” he calls. “What do you want?”
Donna’s ducked down behind the gallery’s seating, rather frightened by the look in this Doctor’s eyes and she knows he’s fought in the war - she ¬can remember it if only she pushes, just a little, but it’s still so very raw and it hurts - and given what he’s preparing to do, she wouldn’t put it past him to shoot her.
“You haven’t got a gun down there, have you?” she shouts.
There’s a long pause and Donna isn’t sure what to make of that until he shouts back, “No, I haven’t got a gun,” and sounds almost insulted at the suggestion he might.
Reassured, but only just, she scrambles out of the seating and to the top of the spiral stairway leading down to the floor. Taking a quick peep out, she sees that his hands are empty of anything except his sonic screwdriver and she descends quickly, her feet tapping on the stone steps.
“Well,” says the Doctor, looking down at her, his expression just a touch softer now as he takes her in, “this is interesting, isn’t it? I have no idea who you are.”
“Donna,” she says, and steps up to the platform, offering him her hand.
He takes it and gives it a firm shake and for an instant there’s a smile on his face, but it’s faint and then it’s gone and his expression is grave again, his voice heavy. “I would normally say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Donna, and, actually, I will say it: Donna, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I only wish we could have done so at any other time.”
“We do,” she says, firmly reminding herself of why she’s here and to stop looking into his eyes so very intently just because they really are quite beautiful.
“Yes,” he says slowly, “I suppose that’s got something to do with why you’re here, given that Romana evacuated all non-Gallifreyans quite some time ago, and I’m quite certain that you are a member of my very favourite species.”
“Not quite,” Donna says.
“Oh?” The Doctor raises his eyebrows as he moves back across the platform, dragging out a large metal box filled with some very complicated, very dangerous looking circuitry.
“There’s a little bit of someone else in here too,” she says tapping her forehead as he sits down cross-legged by the box and begins tearing out bits and pieces and using the screwdriver to reattach them in a way that Donna wished she didn’t understand the consequences of.
He looks up at her for a moment and she’s still under the scrutiny of his gaze. “Oh,” he says finally. “Oh. Oh no.”
“You win,” she tells him. “I suppose.”
He’s on his feet in an instant, bearing down on her. “What do you think you are doing?” he says, his voice tight with anger. “How dare you? How could you? You don’t think this is already difficult enough? You don’t think that being asked to do this... this...thing isn’t enough of a sacrifice for me to make?” Donna steps back, but the Doctor’s relentless. “What is this?” he continues. “What more do you want from me? What are you to come back here and torment me like this?”
“I’m so-”
“Don’t you dare!” His voice is a snarl. His arms snaps out, finger pointing, accusing. “Don’t you dare,” he says again, deadly calm.
“You have to stop,” says Donna, struggling to keep her voice steady. And there’s guilt in there too because she knows only too well what she’s made him feel and that was her choice. She did this, and she has to follow through.
“I have to,” says the Doctor, the echo of the anger still in his voice. “Don’t you understand? There’s no choice here. It’s us or the universe. No in-betweens, no last minutes saves, no other way. And somehow I survive this, don’t I? I survive because I’ve never met you, never done... whatever it is that’s done to give you a part of me. I survive and my world, my people, die, don’t they? Bad enough that I survive, but now you make me do this knowing that I’ll survive.” He takes a step closer, until Donna can feel his breathe against her cheek. “Is there anyone else?”
Donna doesn’t answer.
He turns away, back to the unfinished reality bomb. “So be it,” he says.
Donna swallows, forces herself to approach him. She kneels down on the other side of the bomb and stays there, still and silent, until he looks up at her. “Maybe you’re Death,” he says, “come to torment me before I die again.”
“I need you to stop,” says Donna.
“Exactly what she’d want,” says the Doctor lightly, “why take only two civilisations when you can take the whole universe?”
“I’m not Death,” Donna says, reaching out and taking his free hand in both of hers. “Flesh and blood, see? Single pulse, one heart. I’m human.”
“It’s impossible,” says the Doctor, looking past her. “No humans on Gallifrey, just Leela and she’s not really...” He frowns. “Leela... she was supposed to be...”
“She did,” Donna tells him.
He looks at her, and there’s something very lost, so very lonely in his eyes. “She let you past?” he says.
“Yes, Doctor, because she listened to me and she believed me.”
“She doesn’t really understand,” he murmurs, half to himself, “not her fault of course, the education would take... but she can’t comprehend the sheer scale of it all...” He shakes his head then says, more firmly, “I have to do this.” His hands hover for a moment over the box.
“You’re hesitating,” says Donna.
His head snaps up and he gives her a look somewhere between anger and despair. “Wouldn’t you?” he demands.
Donna shakes her head. “I’d be so afraid if I thought about it, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.”
“If there was another way...”
“There is,” Donna insists. “Stop it, don’t do it.”
He hesitates, and then he sits back on his heels and looks at her. “I’m listening.”
“You, in the future, figure out a way to change all this, to save Gallifrey without saving the Daleks. We have to go back to points along the timeline, simultaneously in the fourth dimension, and change them, and this is the last point. If you blow up the planet now, nothing will have changed, nothing will be saved. Gallifrey will burn. But if you don’t, if you listen to me, then the war, within the Gallifreyan system will have been won, the Daleks will never have got anywhere near the planet. Your people will survive.”
“And what about the rest of the universe?”
“It’ll only affect Gallifrey; everything else will be just as it was after the war.”
“No, no, I mean the paradoxes you’re creating, the massive strain on the web of time, the incredible risk you’re taking that you will stabilise the whole of causality with this irresponsible meddling. What about all that?”
“You were willing to take the risk,” says Donna gently.
“Was I indeed? How very noble of me.”
“We were careful,” she says, ignoring the Doctor’s angry look, “and it’s done now, isn’t it? So you can either finish this, and save your world or you can have yourself risk the universe for nothing.”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“Well, it should be.”
The Doctor laughs, panic or hysteria. “No, no, no,” he says, “what if you’re not real? What if this is all some fantastic delusion conjured up by my mind because I can’t go through with this and am too much of a fool to admit it?”
“What if I’m telling the truth?” asks Donna. “What if you don’t have to do this? What if you can save them all?”
“You see! That’s it exactly! What if. If, if, if... but there aren’t any ifs here because this is a question with a binary choice for an answer: yes or no, one way or the other. If I activate that bomb, the universe is saved, if I don’t the Daleks win, creation is destroyed. And you’ve ruined it, with your ridiculous variables and your absurd story and your hope. I don’t need hope, not now. I need a steady hand and a firm resolve.”
“So you can commit genocide.”
“One great crime to prevent a greater one.”
“Look at me,” says Donna. “Look at me.”
He does, he swallows. “How can you be sure it’s going to work?” he asks hopelessly.
“I’m not. You’re not. But there aren’t any certainties are there?”
“If you’re wrong...” he says, letting the sonic screwdriver slip from his fingers and taking her hands in his.
“I know,” she says as they stand. She’s done it, she thinks, but there’s no sense of satisfaction there, no triumph, instead she finds herself shivering with a cold terror at what she’s done, at what might happen and how very foolish all of this is. “I’m scared,” she whispers, and he pulls her close. She presses her head against his chest, listens to the double-heart beat.
In the distance, sounds begin to seep through from the outside world; the shield protecting the Capitol is failing. The thunder of battle can be heard, the screech of Dalek demands, the rumble of the ships overhead. “You should go,” says the Doctor, his hand moving to catch her wrist and the vortex manipulator fastened there.
“Come with me.”
“I can’t,” he says, “you know I can’t. I have to stay. I have to... there can’t be two of me running around the universe.”
“I know,” she whispers.
“So go,” he insists gently.
She shakes her head, pressing her face against his shoulder to hide her tears. “I’m not leaving,” she says, then more firmly, “I won’t leave you.”
“Donna.”
She closes her eyes. “I can’t,” she says, “I can’t leave you to die alone. What kind of mate would that make me?” Stupid, stupid, stupid, but she’s so certain now.
He pulls away from her, just enough to look into her eyes. His cool hands cup her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “I wish I knew you better,” he says.
“You will,” she tells him and she manages a smile.
“Oh, it’ll be me, but not me.” But he returns the smile and he looks entirely different but it’s still so very, very him. “Donna Noble,” he says, and kisses her.
His lips are cool and soft against her own, and she’s not sure if he’s doing it out of fear or love or hope but she’s kissing him back and she feels his arms around her and her hands slide up into his hair and she’s not afraid, not in this moment.
She holds onto it for as long as she can, holds time back for just a little longer, a little longer, a little longer, but it can’t last forever, because there’s no such thing.
The Daleks are close now, and there’s nowhere left for them to run.
Characters: Donna Noble and the Doctor.
Rating: PG
Summary: Following on from Journey's End...
Index Post
The Noblest Donna Of Them All
Donna has never been here before, and yet she feels a flutter of nostalgia as she materialises in the lower halls of the Capitol, the heart of the Gallifreyan Citadel. The nostalgia is swiftly replaced by fear and the surge of adrenaline as she takes in her surroundings, expected and yet it’s still a shock: it is the end of the war, and Gallifrey has fallen.
The smell of burning suffuses the air and there is clear structural damage to the great arches and supports, but the Capitol has its own special defences and will stand against the final Dalek assault for a few hours more.
Donna searches her memories for some reassurance that the Doctor has, in fact, engaged in plans far more dubious than her current one, and gains some small measure of satisfaction to know that, on the grand scale of his plans, hers seems pretty sensible really. But even that small comfort evaporates as she passes a breach in the wall and is able to take in the view, reaching far out across the Citadel. The great spiral towers at the edge of the city have fallen, their shattered remains surrounded by great swarms of Daleks. The sky is black with their ships and she can see the bright criss-cross of exchanges of fire still taking place in isolated parts of the city.
There’s no sound though, giving the tableau an unreal, nightmarish quality. The shields protecting the very heart of the Gallifreyan civilisation seal all within off from the outside world and now that they are active the Daleks within can be picked off and those without will have to breach the very lowest levels of the Citadel before they can finally reach the Panoptican.
Donna passes bodies: squads of Chancellery Guards, a handful of robed Time Lords, two or three students in their plain black Academy robes. Most of them are armed; all have their eyes open, their faces twisted in pain at the moment of death. She hurries on, mindful that so many dead can only mean that there are most likely Daleks still active in this area and hoping only that she does not see any fallen that the Doctor’s memories might allow her to recognise.
There isn’t any real cover, the hallways are wide and tall, but she keeps next to the walls and walks as softly as she can, her ears straining to pick up any sounds that might be a clue as to what lies ahead of her. She doesn’t have much time, but if she gets herself killed en route then it’s hardly going to matter one way or another, and she really, really doesn’t want to go out via Dalek blast.
She’d expected it to be quiet but as she descends further down, heading towards the Panoptican, she still hasn’t seen a single other living soul. The silence is unsettling, and the whole place has the air of a particularly ostentatious tomb. Still, at least she knows that the Doctor is here, alive and terrified and utterly determined to finish it all, no matter what the cost. She knows that he doesn’t expect to still be alive at the end of the day.
There’s a flash of memory in her mind’s eye: burning, time screaming around her in a fiery whirlwind, breathlessness.
She pauses. Poking at the Doctor’s memories in the middle of a warzone? So very not a good idea.
Suddenly something snakes around her neck and pulls her back, off-balance, and she feels a cool, sharp edge pressed against her throat. Her heart races, her hands clutch at the attacking arm, but it’s strong and hard with muscle and... this is Gallifrey and someone’s threatening her with a knife?
“Leela?” she tries cautiously. She remembers the Doctor’s friend being impulsive at the best of times, and with the planet on the brink of defeat and Daleks everywhere, she’s profoundly grateful she’s still alive at all.
The arm moves quickly, the knife vanishing, and Donna finds herself spun round and pushed away. Leela of the Sevateem stands in front of her, her hair in disarray, her limbs bruised and bloodied and the knife held steady, still only a few inches away from her. Then she sees her eyes and can’t hold back the gasp of horror. “You’re blind,” says Donna, the shock her own and the Doctor’s, “what happened? Was it the Daleks?”
“Quiet,” says Leela, her voice low. “It does not matter, and do not think that because I cannot see you, I do not know precisely where you are. I do not know your voice. Who are you?”
“Donna Noble, I’m a friend of the Doctor’s. I have to find him.”
“He has not mentioned you,” says Leela, her voice laced with suspicion.
“We haven’t met yet,” Donna says.
Leela frowns. “There is a proper order to things that Time Lords have little respect for. One thing should follow another; they should not be all twisted round like you make them. It is not natural.”
“I’m not a Time Lord.”
The knife moves closer, her voice is harsher. “Then what are you?”
“Human,” says Donna, “and I really have to go.” She moves but the knife flashes out, missing her face but the knife-edge hovers just in front of her eyes. She holds her breath, her eyes fixed on the blade.
“Step back, human,” says Leela. “You will explain yourself to me or you will not pass. There are no humans on Gallifrey, not now.”
“It’s complicated, I mean really, really complicated and there isn’t much time left. You know what the Doctor’s going to do, right?” She speaks quickly struggling for the Doctor’s memories of Leela, looking for something that might help her now.
“He has a plan,” says Leela, and Donna can hear the faith in her voice, the absolute certainty that the Doctor knows what he’s doing and what he’s doing is right.
“I’ve a better one,” says Donna. “Look, I know you don’t know me, but I know you, Leela.”
She tilts her head. “You know me in my future?”
“No, we’ve never met,” says Donna. “I know you because he knows you, because I’ve got the Doctor’s memories inside me. I know that he’s in the Panoptican right now with a modified reality bomb designed to take out the Daleks using the power of the Eye of Harmony but there’s no way to use it without destroying the Time Lords as well. I know that you don’t understand how a bigger box can fit inside a smaller one or why it’s wrong to use Janus thorns. I know that he’s asked you to guard these halls, but you don’t understand the fear you can see in his eyes. I know he’s sorry, Leela, and that you’re angry because you...” She swallows, because she can see the tension in the woman’s arm and she’s not sure if she’s going to strike out at her or not.
Leela lowers the knife. “I am angry because I could not save Romana.”
“I know,” says Donna quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“I was too late and she was not careful. She was arrogant and foolish.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that about Time Lords.”
Leela’s head snaps up, and she seems to look right at her, though Donna knows she can’t see. “Do not make light of it. She was also brave and greatly learned. If I could have given my life to save her, it would have been an easy choice to make.”
Donna takes a breath. “I can save her.”
“I have seen Time Lords bring back the dead before, but almost all their great technology is now in the hands of the metal monsters.”
“I mean,” says Donna, “I can stop her from dying in the first place. I can stop this, all of this. I can save Gallifrey and the Time Lords.”
“Even the Doctor could not do that,” says Leela, as though that settles the matter as impossible.
“And I’m him, him with a lot of human mixed in with all his knowledge and memories and I can think of things he’d never be able to imagine and I can do this, Leela, I can save the Time Lords, if you let me pass.”
“You have the Doctor’s mind?”
“Yes,” says Donna.
“And your own too?”
“Yes.”
Leela is silent a moment, thinking. “Romana did not truly understand the value of instinct nor could she see the point of faith, but once we visited a paradise world where our minds were swapped and it was then, seeing the universe from my perspective, that she could accept those things as being important, and I could better understand her trust in reason and science. It is something like that you are speaking of?”
“Yes,” says Donna, “in a way.”
Leela steps back. “He will be angry I have done this, Donna Noble, but I sense no lies from you. You may pass.”
“Thank you,” says Donna, and turns to go. She pauses as Leela moves back amongst the shadows, silent as a ghost. “What about you?” she asks, knowing Leela’s skill as a warrior and yet repelled at the idea of leaving a blind woman alone in these corridors with Daleks patrolling the area.
Leela smiles, showing her teeth, and suddenly seems far less vulnerable. “I still have many prey to hunt,” she says, her eagerness at the prospect evident.
“With a knife?” Donna says, trying to keep her scepticism out of her voice.
“The Time Lords did not do well again the metal ones with their stasers,” she tells Donna, “but I can pierce their eye sockets and leave them as blind as I am. There are many high catwalks amongst the hallways and these Daleks do not know the passages as I do.”
It doesn’t sound like much to Donna, but the strength and confidence in Leela’s voice is undeniable. “Good luck,” she says, wishing she could do more.
“Go now, find the Doctor, and do not worry for me, Donna Noble, for I shall have a good death.”
-
Donna hurries now, confident that the corridors ahead would be clear of any mortal danger. Leela would not have let a Dalek slip past her when she had sworn herself to protecting the Doctor.
She finds the way down to the Panoptican gallery and peers down to the floor below, and finds it empty. She breathes a sigh of relief for the last thing that the Doctor would have to do before setting off the bomb would be to open the floor of the Panoptican, allowing him access to the source of the Time Lords’ great power, the Eye of Harmony.
“Whoever you are, I’m afraid you’re far too late.” Donna jumps, looks around, but can’t locate the source of the voice. It echoes across the chamber, coming from somewhere below.
“Doctor?” Donna calls back. Her voice is anything but weak, but it pales in comparison to his shout. He must, she imagines, be furious, or terrified.
The Doctor steps out from behind one of the great pillars rising up at the back of the presidential platform. He’s wearing the Sash of Rassilon, one of the artifacts needed to gain access to the Eye, and looks remarkably kempt, though the frockcoat’s missing, as is the cravat, and he’s rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Who are you?” he calls. “What do you want?”
Donna’s ducked down behind the gallery’s seating, rather frightened by the look in this Doctor’s eyes and she knows he’s fought in the war - she ¬can remember it if only she pushes, just a little, but it’s still so very raw and it hurts - and given what he’s preparing to do, she wouldn’t put it past him to shoot her.
“You haven’t got a gun down there, have you?” she shouts.
There’s a long pause and Donna isn’t sure what to make of that until he shouts back, “No, I haven’t got a gun,” and sounds almost insulted at the suggestion he might.
Reassured, but only just, she scrambles out of the seating and to the top of the spiral stairway leading down to the floor. Taking a quick peep out, she sees that his hands are empty of anything except his sonic screwdriver and she descends quickly, her feet tapping on the stone steps.
“Well,” says the Doctor, looking down at her, his expression just a touch softer now as he takes her in, “this is interesting, isn’t it? I have no idea who you are.”
“Donna,” she says, and steps up to the platform, offering him her hand.
He takes it and gives it a firm shake and for an instant there’s a smile on his face, but it’s faint and then it’s gone and his expression is grave again, his voice heavy. “I would normally say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Donna, and, actually, I will say it: Donna, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I only wish we could have done so at any other time.”
“We do,” she says, firmly reminding herself of why she’s here and to stop looking into his eyes so very intently just because they really are quite beautiful.
“Yes,” he says slowly, “I suppose that’s got something to do with why you’re here, given that Romana evacuated all non-Gallifreyans quite some time ago, and I’m quite certain that you are a member of my very favourite species.”
“Not quite,” Donna says.
“Oh?” The Doctor raises his eyebrows as he moves back across the platform, dragging out a large metal box filled with some very complicated, very dangerous looking circuitry.
“There’s a little bit of someone else in here too,” she says tapping her forehead as he sits down cross-legged by the box and begins tearing out bits and pieces and using the screwdriver to reattach them in a way that Donna wished she didn’t understand the consequences of.
He looks up at her for a moment and she’s still under the scrutiny of his gaze. “Oh,” he says finally. “Oh. Oh no.”
“You win,” she tells him. “I suppose.”
He’s on his feet in an instant, bearing down on her. “What do you think you are doing?” he says, his voice tight with anger. “How dare you? How could you? You don’t think this is already difficult enough? You don’t think that being asked to do this... this...thing isn’t enough of a sacrifice for me to make?” Donna steps back, but the Doctor’s relentless. “What is this?” he continues. “What more do you want from me? What are you to come back here and torment me like this?”
“I’m so-”
“Don’t you dare!” His voice is a snarl. His arms snaps out, finger pointing, accusing. “Don’t you dare,” he says again, deadly calm.
“You have to stop,” says Donna, struggling to keep her voice steady. And there’s guilt in there too because she knows only too well what she’s made him feel and that was her choice. She did this, and she has to follow through.
“I have to,” says the Doctor, the echo of the anger still in his voice. “Don’t you understand? There’s no choice here. It’s us or the universe. No in-betweens, no last minutes saves, no other way. And somehow I survive this, don’t I? I survive because I’ve never met you, never done... whatever it is that’s done to give you a part of me. I survive and my world, my people, die, don’t they? Bad enough that I survive, but now you make me do this knowing that I’ll survive.” He takes a step closer, until Donna can feel his breathe against her cheek. “Is there anyone else?”
Donna doesn’t answer.
He turns away, back to the unfinished reality bomb. “So be it,” he says.
Donna swallows, forces herself to approach him. She kneels down on the other side of the bomb and stays there, still and silent, until he looks up at her. “Maybe you’re Death,” he says, “come to torment me before I die again.”
“I need you to stop,” says Donna.
“Exactly what she’d want,” says the Doctor lightly, “why take only two civilisations when you can take the whole universe?”
“I’m not Death,” Donna says, reaching out and taking his free hand in both of hers. “Flesh and blood, see? Single pulse, one heart. I’m human.”
“It’s impossible,” says the Doctor, looking past her. “No humans on Gallifrey, just Leela and she’s not really...” He frowns. “Leela... she was supposed to be...”
“She did,” Donna tells him.
He looks at her, and there’s something very lost, so very lonely in his eyes. “She let you past?” he says.
“Yes, Doctor, because she listened to me and she believed me.”
“She doesn’t really understand,” he murmurs, half to himself, “not her fault of course, the education would take... but she can’t comprehend the sheer scale of it all...” He shakes his head then says, more firmly, “I have to do this.” His hands hover for a moment over the box.
“You’re hesitating,” says Donna.
His head snaps up and he gives her a look somewhere between anger and despair. “Wouldn’t you?” he demands.
Donna shakes her head. “I’d be so afraid if I thought about it, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.”
“If there was another way...”
“There is,” Donna insists. “Stop it, don’t do it.”
He hesitates, and then he sits back on his heels and looks at her. “I’m listening.”
“You, in the future, figure out a way to change all this, to save Gallifrey without saving the Daleks. We have to go back to points along the timeline, simultaneously in the fourth dimension, and change them, and this is the last point. If you blow up the planet now, nothing will have changed, nothing will be saved. Gallifrey will burn. But if you don’t, if you listen to me, then the war, within the Gallifreyan system will have been won, the Daleks will never have got anywhere near the planet. Your people will survive.”
“And what about the rest of the universe?”
“It’ll only affect Gallifrey; everything else will be just as it was after the war.”
“No, no, I mean the paradoxes you’re creating, the massive strain on the web of time, the incredible risk you’re taking that you will stabilise the whole of causality with this irresponsible meddling. What about all that?”
“You were willing to take the risk,” says Donna gently.
“Was I indeed? How very noble of me.”
“We were careful,” she says, ignoring the Doctor’s angry look, “and it’s done now, isn’t it? So you can either finish this, and save your world or you can have yourself risk the universe for nothing.”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“Well, it should be.”
The Doctor laughs, panic or hysteria. “No, no, no,” he says, “what if you’re not real? What if this is all some fantastic delusion conjured up by my mind because I can’t go through with this and am too much of a fool to admit it?”
“What if I’m telling the truth?” asks Donna. “What if you don’t have to do this? What if you can save them all?”
“You see! That’s it exactly! What if. If, if, if... but there aren’t any ifs here because this is a question with a binary choice for an answer: yes or no, one way or the other. If I activate that bomb, the universe is saved, if I don’t the Daleks win, creation is destroyed. And you’ve ruined it, with your ridiculous variables and your absurd story and your hope. I don’t need hope, not now. I need a steady hand and a firm resolve.”
“So you can commit genocide.”
“One great crime to prevent a greater one.”
“Look at me,” says Donna. “Look at me.”
He does, he swallows. “How can you be sure it’s going to work?” he asks hopelessly.
“I’m not. You’re not. But there aren’t any certainties are there?”
“If you’re wrong...” he says, letting the sonic screwdriver slip from his fingers and taking her hands in his.
“I know,” she says as they stand. She’s done it, she thinks, but there’s no sense of satisfaction there, no triumph, instead she finds herself shivering with a cold terror at what she’s done, at what might happen and how very foolish all of this is. “I’m scared,” she whispers, and he pulls her close. She presses her head against his chest, listens to the double-heart beat.
In the distance, sounds begin to seep through from the outside world; the shield protecting the Capitol is failing. The thunder of battle can be heard, the screech of Dalek demands, the rumble of the ships overhead. “You should go,” says the Doctor, his hand moving to catch her wrist and the vortex manipulator fastened there.
“Come with me.”
“I can’t,” he says, “you know I can’t. I have to stay. I have to... there can’t be two of me running around the universe.”
“I know,” she whispers.
“So go,” he insists gently.
She shakes her head, pressing her face against his shoulder to hide her tears. “I’m not leaving,” she says, then more firmly, “I won’t leave you.”
“Donna.”
She closes her eyes. “I can’t,” she says, “I can’t leave you to die alone. What kind of mate would that make me?” Stupid, stupid, stupid, but she’s so certain now.
He pulls away from her, just enough to look into her eyes. His cool hands cup her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “I wish I knew you better,” he says.
“You will,” she tells him and she manages a smile.
“Oh, it’ll be me, but not me.” But he returns the smile and he looks entirely different but it’s still so very, very him. “Donna Noble,” he says, and kisses her.
His lips are cool and soft against her own, and she’s not sure if he’s doing it out of fear or love or hope but she’s kissing him back and she feels his arms around her and her hands slide up into his hair and she’s not afraid, not in this moment.
She holds onto it for as long as she can, holds time back for just a little longer, a little longer, a little longer, but it can’t last forever, because there’s no such thing.
The Daleks are close now, and there’s nowhere left for them to run.