fic: children of time (14/14)
Last part also up tonight, for tis more an epilogue-y bit and is shorter than the rest.
Title: Children of Time (14/14)
Characters: Donna Noble, the Doctor.
Rating: PG
Summary: Following on from Journey's End...
Index Post
Objects At Rest
The Doctor doesn’t like hospitals much. He doesn’t mind them downstairs where it tends to be bright and airy and sometimes has a nice little shop for him to distract himself with, but the wards, especially the corridors between the wards, are horrible places. People wait there with hope and fear, terror and expectations, so many things so often unsaid, everything so silent yet so clearly expressed in their eyes.
He’s been waiting there for a while now. He forces himself not to count the seconds, to let his awareness drift from noticing the casual flow of time to letting the close, foreboding presence of the narrow walls and high roof be an ever present now.
Eventually, Wilf comes out of the room. “She wants to see you,” he says.
“Right.” He nods, not quite managing to look the old man in the eye. “What did you tell her?”
“That she’d had an accident, that she was alright, that all those cards and flowers were from people that loved her even if she couldn’t remember who they are right now.”
“She won’t,” says the Doctor, “remember I mean. Ever. Those memories, all those things we did together, they’re gone now. Erased. The Time Lords took them all.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t tell her about them though, does it?” says Wilf. “And that’s got to be better than worrying all the time about whether or not she might remember and then, well, you know, don’t you?”
“It shouldn’t have happened at all,” says the Doctor, “she did something very foolish, very brave and very foolish.”
Wilf’s expression doesn’t change. “Did she know what she was getting herself into?” he asks.
The Doctor nods.
“Well, then,” says Wilf. “Don’t you go blaming yourself for it.”
“You don’t understand, she did this because of me, because she wouldn’t... she put herself in danger because she wouldn’t let me die alone.” He blurts it out, without thinking or pausing or considering, because there’s no other way he can say it.
Wilf stares at him, frowning, and the Doctor forces himself not to keep talking, and make the point even more confused than it already is. Finally Wilf says, “I’ll assume that makes sense to you lot up in the stars, and it sounds to me like she did a very brave, very noble thing.”
“She did, and she was.” He smiles, recalling the faint memory of those last moments on Gallifrey when she had held him as though she would be able to protect him. “She was brilliant, Wilf, you’d have been proud.”
“I am, son. So don’t you forget what she did, and don’t you grieve when you shouldn’t. She wouldn’t want that.”
“I don’t know what to tell her.”
“The truth’s usually pretty good.”
“But she’s... well, she’s not the Donna I know, how’s she ever going to-” Wilf’s hand is on his arm and he’s not sure if it’s comfort or a warning.
“Don’t you underestimate my Donna,” he says. “Now you go in there, go and answer all her questions, cause I’ve done the best I can, but you’re the one with all the answers she really wants to know. Don’t you let her down now, Doctor.”
The Doctor steps inside Donna’s room, stands just by the door, letting it swing shut behind him. She’s sitting up in bed, awake and alert if still looking rather tired and pale, reading one of her cards. He waits until he notices her. He holds his breath as she looks at him, but there’s no recognition in her eyes, and he’s surprised how much it hurts, even now.
“You’re the Doctor then?” she asks.
“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I am. Good to meet you Donna Noble.” He takes the seat beside her bed.
“Martha and Tom,” she reads from the card. “Haven’t a clue who they are. Or this Sarah Jane, or Jack. Everything makes sense, in here,” she taps her temple, “then about a year ago, it just stops, and I’m here, waking up in the hospital, with no idea what’s been going on. Gramps said you know about what’s happened.” She’s not quite the same brusque, loud Donna he knew when he first met her. There’s still an edge to her voice, but this Donna’s had a nasty shock and she’s scared, and that’s chipped away at the indomitable front she usually presents to the world.
“I do,” says the Doctor gently.
“Well then, you going to tell me about it?” She smiles and tries to sound confident, but there’s a fragile hope in her voice too, that he’s going to make everything okay, and have it make sense again.
The Doctor looks down at his hands. “I don’t really know where to starts,” he says, “and I don’t know if you’ll believe me.”
“Well, you’re definitely not going to know if you don’t try. Come on, Doctor, spit it out. Can’t be that bad, can it?”
“Oh, oh no, it’s not bad,” he says. “It’s amazing, wonderful, you’re... just listen, okay? This is going to be a story, and it’s a true story, but you’re not going to want to believe it because it’s so incredible and full of all these things that you’re going to think can’t possibly exist, but they do, and it’s true, all of it. And all these people here,” he points at the collection of cards, “well, all the ones you don’t know, they know it’s true too and they’ll tell you about it, all the things I’ve forgotten or missed out.”
“Okay,” says Donna cautiously, leaning back against her pillows. “I’m listening.”
He’s got her attention, and that’s enough for now, so long as she listens, he thinks he’ll be okay.
So he begins: “It’s a story about this woman, this ordinary human woman, who had all these adventures all over the place, doing the most amazing things, and she turned out to be the most extraordinary sort of person, in fact, for one moment, she was the most important person in all of creation.
It all started with this wedding dress...”
Title: Children of Time (14/14)
Characters: Donna Noble, the Doctor.
Rating: PG
Summary: Following on from Journey's End...
Index Post
Objects At Rest
The Doctor doesn’t like hospitals much. He doesn’t mind them downstairs where it tends to be bright and airy and sometimes has a nice little shop for him to distract himself with, but the wards, especially the corridors between the wards, are horrible places. People wait there with hope and fear, terror and expectations, so many things so often unsaid, everything so silent yet so clearly expressed in their eyes.
He’s been waiting there for a while now. He forces himself not to count the seconds, to let his awareness drift from noticing the casual flow of time to letting the close, foreboding presence of the narrow walls and high roof be an ever present now.
Eventually, Wilf comes out of the room. “She wants to see you,” he says.
“Right.” He nods, not quite managing to look the old man in the eye. “What did you tell her?”
“That she’d had an accident, that she was alright, that all those cards and flowers were from people that loved her even if she couldn’t remember who they are right now.”
“She won’t,” says the Doctor, “remember I mean. Ever. Those memories, all those things we did together, they’re gone now. Erased. The Time Lords took them all.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t tell her about them though, does it?” says Wilf. “And that’s got to be better than worrying all the time about whether or not she might remember and then, well, you know, don’t you?”
“It shouldn’t have happened at all,” says the Doctor, “she did something very foolish, very brave and very foolish.”
Wilf’s expression doesn’t change. “Did she know what she was getting herself into?” he asks.
The Doctor nods.
“Well, then,” says Wilf. “Don’t you go blaming yourself for it.”
“You don’t understand, she did this because of me, because she wouldn’t... she put herself in danger because she wouldn’t let me die alone.” He blurts it out, without thinking or pausing or considering, because there’s no other way he can say it.
Wilf stares at him, frowning, and the Doctor forces himself not to keep talking, and make the point even more confused than it already is. Finally Wilf says, “I’ll assume that makes sense to you lot up in the stars, and it sounds to me like she did a very brave, very noble thing.”
“She did, and she was.” He smiles, recalling the faint memory of those last moments on Gallifrey when she had held him as though she would be able to protect him. “She was brilliant, Wilf, you’d have been proud.”
“I am, son. So don’t you forget what she did, and don’t you grieve when you shouldn’t. She wouldn’t want that.”
“I don’t know what to tell her.”
“The truth’s usually pretty good.”
“But she’s... well, she’s not the Donna I know, how’s she ever going to-” Wilf’s hand is on his arm and he’s not sure if it’s comfort or a warning.
“Don’t you underestimate my Donna,” he says. “Now you go in there, go and answer all her questions, cause I’ve done the best I can, but you’re the one with all the answers she really wants to know. Don’t you let her down now, Doctor.”
The Doctor steps inside Donna’s room, stands just by the door, letting it swing shut behind him. She’s sitting up in bed, awake and alert if still looking rather tired and pale, reading one of her cards. He waits until he notices her. He holds his breath as she looks at him, but there’s no recognition in her eyes, and he’s surprised how much it hurts, even now.
“You’re the Doctor then?” she asks.
“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I am. Good to meet you Donna Noble.” He takes the seat beside her bed.
“Martha and Tom,” she reads from the card. “Haven’t a clue who they are. Or this Sarah Jane, or Jack. Everything makes sense, in here,” she taps her temple, “then about a year ago, it just stops, and I’m here, waking up in the hospital, with no idea what’s been going on. Gramps said you know about what’s happened.” She’s not quite the same brusque, loud Donna he knew when he first met her. There’s still an edge to her voice, but this Donna’s had a nasty shock and she’s scared, and that’s chipped away at the indomitable front she usually presents to the world.
“I do,” says the Doctor gently.
“Well then, you going to tell me about it?” She smiles and tries to sound confident, but there’s a fragile hope in her voice too, that he’s going to make everything okay, and have it make sense again.
The Doctor looks down at his hands. “I don’t really know where to starts,” he says, “and I don’t know if you’ll believe me.”
“Well, you’re definitely not going to know if you don’t try. Come on, Doctor, spit it out. Can’t be that bad, can it?”
“Oh, oh no, it’s not bad,” he says. “It’s amazing, wonderful, you’re... just listen, okay? This is going to be a story, and it’s a true story, but you’re not going to want to believe it because it’s so incredible and full of all these things that you’re going to think can’t possibly exist, but they do, and it’s true, all of it. And all these people here,” he points at the collection of cards, “well, all the ones you don’t know, they know it’s true too and they’ll tell you about it, all the things I’ve forgotten or missed out.”
“Okay,” says Donna cautiously, leaning back against her pillows. “I’m listening.”
He’s got her attention, and that’s enough for now, so long as she listens, he thinks he’ll be okay.
So he begins: “It’s a story about this woman, this ordinary human woman, who had all these adventures all over the place, doing the most amazing things, and she turned out to be the most extraordinary sort of person, in fact, for one moment, she was the most important person in all of creation.
It all started with this wedding dress...”