Fic: "Walking After Midnight" (All Ages)
Ha! Finished a story! I got a bug for some Donna-Doctor, and this is what came out of it. Un-betaed, so if you spot something terribly wrong, it's fair game.
Title: Walking After Midnight
Rating: All Ages
Characters/Pairing: Ten, Donna, background Ten/Rose and unrequited Martha/Ten
Spoilers: Through "Planet of the Ood"
Summary: The Doctor's nightmare leads to a midnight snack and a stern talking-to by Donna. Both are badly needed.
Donna woke to the distinct feeling that something was wrong. She looked around her room, momentarily disoriented. The word “TARDIS” came to mind, and her mind reoriented itself to the--well, frankly fabulous room the TARDIS had created for her. The only thing it was missing was a walk-in closet.
(Though it had, quite mysteriously, turned into a cramped bunk when she re-boarded the timeship after the Ood incident. The Doctor said it was a remarkable reproduction of the type of bedroom one would encounter upon the rocket she’d admired. After one night in it, Donna had conceded that perhaps the Doctor traveled in style after all. Just as mysteriously, her room went back to what it had been before.)
She looked around, trying to find anything that might be wrong. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Nonetheless, the feeling persisted, growing ever stronger until she felt compelled to get out of bed and leave her room to search out the Doctor.
He wasn’t in the control room, which was generally where she could find him. Nor was he in the kitchen, which he periodically breezed in and out of. The library likewise turned up empty. She shook her head, feeling a bit silly. The Doctor had assured her that anything hostile boarding the TARDIS was the next best thing to impossible; what could possibly be wrong enough that Donna needed to find the Doctor?
The feeling of wrongness hit her again, and for some reason she couldn’t identify, Donna looked down the corridor past the library and spotted a door she hadn’t seen before. As she approached it, she realized it was etched with the complex symbols she’d seen on the Post-It notes scattered around the console. Curious, she turned the handle.
The room she entered was dark and cool. Even though she couldn’t see very far in, she somehow felt that it was very large. She pushed the door all the way open, letting more light into the room.
An odd sound was coming out of the darkness. Donna froze, staring into the room and listening hard. She’d learned early that the TARDIS wasn’t always the safest place, especially if one was attempting to perform an ordinary task, like, say, washing clothes. Seriously, if the Doctor thought he was getting out of paying for a new bra, he was even more of a lunatic than he appeared to be.
The sound coming from the room didn’t sound terribly threatening. In fact, it sounded like something relatively small was snuffling about. Donna took a step inside. “Hello? Anybody here?”
A soft snort answered her. She took another step in, peering into the darkness as he eyes started to adjust. Slowly, the shape of a bed became clear. An occupied bed.
A bed occupied by the Doctor.
Donna marveled slightly at the evidence that he did, in fact, sleep. He looked so incredibly young asleep, like a little boy. It was . . . endearing. She had an urge to tuck his blankets--which he’d thrown off, as he was apparently as hyperkinetic in sleep as he was awake--around him and kiss his forehead.
As he eyes adjusted further, she realized sweat was beaded across that forehead. He looked tense, unhappy, and his breathing was uneven. A soft, keening sound came from his throat.
Bad dream, she thought. Not sure what to do, she stood a little closer and said his name softly. “Doctor?”
There was a little hitch in his breathing, and the sense of wrongness that had awakened Donna intensified. She bent over him. “Doctor?” she said a little louder.
His eyes flew open. In a moment, he was off the bed, holding onto Donna for dear life, breathing like he’d been racing, and she could feel the pounding of his hearts. Startled and not at all sure what she should be doing, she tentatively wrapped her arms around his thin frame. God, he was shaking. He clung to her, his fingers digging into her flesh, obviously not quite aware of where he was. Donna made soothing noises, patting his back and stroking his hair, until he finally calmed and pulled away.
“Donna?” he asked, looking just as confused as Donna felt.
“I think you had a bad dream,” she offered. “Dunno why, but I woke up feeling like something was wrong. Went to find you, and here you are.”
“Oh.” He sat back, not quite meeting Donna’s eyes. “Ah. Well, erm, everything seems to be fine, so you can go back to bed now, if you’d like.”
“Any reason your nightmares are waking me up?” Donna asked bluntly.
“It happens.” He swallowed visibly, still not making eye contact. “Well, used to happen. Hasn’t in a while.”
Donna could see she wasn’t going to be getting much more information out of him that way, so she changed tactics. She got up, grabbed his hand and tugged at it. “Come on. You’re skinny, and you’re freezing. I’ll make you some eggs an’ tea. One-time offer.”
The Doctor looked pained. “Donna . . .”
“Come on, you.” She gave his hand a yank.
He gave in, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and slipping his feet into a pair of slippers. He wore, Donna noted, pinstriped pajamas. That figured. She led him down the corridor to the kitchen, where she dug out a teakettle that looked like it came straight out of the Middle Ages and a frying pan that the Doctor told her came from the twenty-second century, and set to making breakfast.
When she was done, she heaped two plates with scrambled eggs (she really made very good scrambled eggs) and toast and set one in front of the Doctor and the other at her own customary seat. She made up a cup of tea the way he liked it (one sugar, milk) and one the way she liked it (three sugars, nothing else) and sat, setting the Doctor’s in front of him.
“So, back to my question,” Donna said. “Why are your nightmares waking me up? Some sort of telepathy thing, like back with the Ood? Eat up; it’ll get cold.”
The Doctor consented to taking a few bites before answering. “Strictly speaking, I wasn’t the one who woke you up. It was the TARDIS.”
“The TARDIS? How?”
“She gets in your head.” The Doctor took a sip of tea. “Like the languages. While you’re a passenger, you’re always connected to her.”
That was a little disturbing. “So . . . your ship can read my mind? And you didn’t tell me this before?”
“It’s not like that,” the Doctor hastened to say. “The TARDIS isn’t human; she doesn’t care what’s on your mind or what you do.” He was warming to his subject, gesturing with his hands and fork. “The connection you have to her, mental and physical, was designed to protect your well-being. It augments your immune system, helps you heal more quickly from injuries, even slows your aging a little. The mental connection not only translates languages for you, but gives you a measure of protection against mind control. Mind you, that’s not worth much against someone who’s really good at mind control, but it more or less covers amateurs.”
Donna decided to let it go for the time being. “And she’s waking me up for your nightmares because . . ?”
Instantly, the Doctor was a million miles away. “That hasn’t happened in a long time. Not since . . .”
Donna had, by that point, learned to read the Doctor’s expressions. This was his “Rose” face, which was longing with a side of grief. His “Martha” face was mostly guilt and sadness. “Since Rose?” Donna prompted gently.
The Doctor nodded. “Yes. I didn’t sleep much in the wake of the Time War. After Rose came on board, I was able to rest more--and, accordingly, had more nightmares. The TARDIS started waking her up, and she’d come and . . . she’d be there. She’d talk to me, lie with me in bed, hold my hand--just be with me, and I found it soothing.”
“What happened to her?” Donna asked.
“Cybermen. Daleks. A hole in the world, and she fell into it.” The Doctor picked at his eggs. “We were sending the Cybermen and Daleks into the Void between universes. Rose very nearly went with them, but she was saved by--by a friend from the other universe. When all was said and done, she was there, I was here, and ne’er the twain shall meet. Not ever again.” He took a long drink of his tea. “When you and I first met, I had just spoken with her for the last time. I’d found a small hole between universes that was about to close, and I used a tremendous amount of power to contact her. She was crying.”
“She’s probably stopped by now.” Donna gave him a soft smile. “If she loved you as much as it sounds like she did, she wouldn’t want you to be this sad.”
“She was always strong, my Rose.” He smiled a tender smile that made Donna think that perhaps he was a little fanciable after all. “She’s a big sister by now. Her mum crossed over with her, and since her dad had never died there, but his wife had, they ended up together, and last I heard, Jackie Tyler was pregnant. I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl? I’d go with a girl, since Pete and Jackie have a proven track record with girls.”
“I’m sure they’ll take your feelings into account,” Donna commented drily. “What about Martha?”
The Doctor was silent for a long moment. “The TARDIS never brought Martha to me. It wouldn’t have been fair to her. I wanted Rose, and Martha--Martha wanted me. If she’d come to my room in the middle of the night to help me, and I called out for Rose . . .”
“Yeah, you don’t want to do that.” Donna ate another bite of her eggs and gestured at the Doctor with her fork to do the same. Obediently, he ate. “So did Martha know about Rose?”
“Not much. She knew her name and that I’d traveled with Rose.” He finished his eggs and picked up his tea, eyes going distant. “The thing was, I needed a friend, and I knew Rose never wanted me to be alone. The thought made her cry the last time I saw her. But I--I liked Martha and was grateful for her presence, but when I looked at her, I saw, well, not Rose. And Martha sensed it. She was never second-best, Martha, but I made her feel that way. In the end, that was why she left.”
And yet, he still looked surprised when Donna dope-smacked him.
“What was that for?” he sputtered, grabbing a napkin to wipe up the tea he’d sloshed all over his hand.
“You really do think you’re the center of the universe, don’t you?” Donna asked wearily. “Is that how you ‘ruined half her life’? Because she had a crush on you while you were mooning over your ex?”
The Doctor glared at her. “No. Some very bad things happened to her because of me.”
“Right. An’ you did them to her, I suppose?”
“Well, no, not directly, but--”
“How old was this Martha?”
He looked at her suspiciously, as if he sensed a trick question ahead. “Twenty-three. Twenty-four by the time she left.”
“And what did she do for a living?” Donna demanded further.
“She was a medical student.” The Doctor thought a moment before adding, “And also the diplomatic go-between for her very complicated and fractious family.”
“So she was a big girl, is what you’re sayin’,” said Donna. “Smart, too, from the sounds of it. When I saw you for the first time, I could tell you were in love with this ‘friend’ Rose, an’ honestly? You’re hardly better now. If Martha missed the signs, she missed ‘em because she wanted to. Women do that occasionally.” Her mind flashed to Lance and all the signs she’d missed with him that she saw clearly in retrospect. “And I hate to tell you this, Peaches, but you’re hardly irresistible. Was Martha the kind of woman to stick with a man even if he made her miserable?”
The Doctor distinctly pouted. “No, I don’t suppose so, but--”
Donna interrupted again. “So in other words, the two of you had some good times, you were friends, and she stuck with you until she decided it was time to call it quits and get over her crazy crush. Am I right?”
“That’s . . . simplifying things a great deal, but--”
“But I’m basically right, yeah?”
“More or less.” He slumped. “I just wish things had been different.”
“Don’t we all?” Donna finished her tea. “I’d like to meet this Martha of yours.”
The Doctor sighed wistfully. “She really is brilliant, you know. She’s a strong woman. Like you. Like Rose.”
“If she’s all that, she’ll kick you in the shins for moping,” said Donna. “Rose should, too, next time you see her.”
He stiffened. “I’ll never see Rose again. It’s impossible.”
Donna snorted. “Since meeting you, I’ve stopped believing anything’s impossible.”
“No, Donna, this is.” The Doctor sounded more than a little defensive, even brittle. “Travel between universes is no longer possible. Ergo, it’s impossible for me to ever see Rose again. Trust me on this.”
“I would, but I’m not actually convinced you ever really know what you’re talking about.” Over his squawk of protest, she said, “You’ll see your Rose again, and then you’ll get to tell her what you stupidly didn’t before.” She stood and whisked the empty dishes off the table and walked them over to the sink.
There was silence from behind her for a long moment before the Doctor asked, “How--why do you say that?”
“ ‘Cause blokes are stupid, and every woman knows that,” Donna said almost tenderly as she turned around. “Mind you, she likely knew how you felt all along, but it’s nice to hear it. Keep that in mind, would you?” She walked back over to the table and affectionately ruffled his hair. “Get some rest. The universe’ll probably need saving in the morning. Again.”
She was almost out of the kitchen when the Doctor’s voice caught her. “Donna?”
“Yeah?” She looked over her shoulder at him.
His brown eyes were warm, and there were fewer shadows in them than there had been when he’d awakened. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” She left the kitchen and walked a few steps down the hall before hastening back and poking her head in. “Just not every night, okay? I need my sleep.”
He gave her a slight grin. “I’ll do my best.”
As Donna left, she felt something like a mental pat on the back. Must be a hell of a job, taking care of him all on your own, she thought at the TARDIS. All right. Wake me any time it gets too much.
When she got back to her room, it had a walk-in closet.
Title: Walking After Midnight
Rating: All Ages
Characters/Pairing: Ten, Donna, background Ten/Rose and unrequited Martha/Ten
Spoilers: Through "Planet of the Ood"
Summary: The Doctor's nightmare leads to a midnight snack and a stern talking-to by Donna. Both are badly needed.
Donna woke to the distinct feeling that something was wrong. She looked around her room, momentarily disoriented. The word “TARDIS” came to mind, and her mind reoriented itself to the--well, frankly fabulous room the TARDIS had created for her. The only thing it was missing was a walk-in closet.
(Though it had, quite mysteriously, turned into a cramped bunk when she re-boarded the timeship after the Ood incident. The Doctor said it was a remarkable reproduction of the type of bedroom one would encounter upon the rocket she’d admired. After one night in it, Donna had conceded that perhaps the Doctor traveled in style after all. Just as mysteriously, her room went back to what it had been before.)
She looked around, trying to find anything that might be wrong. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Nonetheless, the feeling persisted, growing ever stronger until she felt compelled to get out of bed and leave her room to search out the Doctor.
He wasn’t in the control room, which was generally where she could find him. Nor was he in the kitchen, which he periodically breezed in and out of. The library likewise turned up empty. She shook her head, feeling a bit silly. The Doctor had assured her that anything hostile boarding the TARDIS was the next best thing to impossible; what could possibly be wrong enough that Donna needed to find the Doctor?
The feeling of wrongness hit her again, and for some reason she couldn’t identify, Donna looked down the corridor past the library and spotted a door she hadn’t seen before. As she approached it, she realized it was etched with the complex symbols she’d seen on the Post-It notes scattered around the console. Curious, she turned the handle.
The room she entered was dark and cool. Even though she couldn’t see very far in, she somehow felt that it was very large. She pushed the door all the way open, letting more light into the room.
An odd sound was coming out of the darkness. Donna froze, staring into the room and listening hard. She’d learned early that the TARDIS wasn’t always the safest place, especially if one was attempting to perform an ordinary task, like, say, washing clothes. Seriously, if the Doctor thought he was getting out of paying for a new bra, he was even more of a lunatic than he appeared to be.
The sound coming from the room didn’t sound terribly threatening. In fact, it sounded like something relatively small was snuffling about. Donna took a step inside. “Hello? Anybody here?”
A soft snort answered her. She took another step in, peering into the darkness as he eyes started to adjust. Slowly, the shape of a bed became clear. An occupied bed.
A bed occupied by the Doctor.
Donna marveled slightly at the evidence that he did, in fact, sleep. He looked so incredibly young asleep, like a little boy. It was . . . endearing. She had an urge to tuck his blankets--which he’d thrown off, as he was apparently as hyperkinetic in sleep as he was awake--around him and kiss his forehead.
As he eyes adjusted further, she realized sweat was beaded across that forehead. He looked tense, unhappy, and his breathing was uneven. A soft, keening sound came from his throat.
Bad dream, she thought. Not sure what to do, she stood a little closer and said his name softly. “Doctor?”
There was a little hitch in his breathing, and the sense of wrongness that had awakened Donna intensified. She bent over him. “Doctor?” she said a little louder.
His eyes flew open. In a moment, he was off the bed, holding onto Donna for dear life, breathing like he’d been racing, and she could feel the pounding of his hearts. Startled and not at all sure what she should be doing, she tentatively wrapped her arms around his thin frame. God, he was shaking. He clung to her, his fingers digging into her flesh, obviously not quite aware of where he was. Donna made soothing noises, patting his back and stroking his hair, until he finally calmed and pulled away.
“Donna?” he asked, looking just as confused as Donna felt.
“I think you had a bad dream,” she offered. “Dunno why, but I woke up feeling like something was wrong. Went to find you, and here you are.”
“Oh.” He sat back, not quite meeting Donna’s eyes. “Ah. Well, erm, everything seems to be fine, so you can go back to bed now, if you’d like.”
“Any reason your nightmares are waking me up?” Donna asked bluntly.
“It happens.” He swallowed visibly, still not making eye contact. “Well, used to happen. Hasn’t in a while.”
Donna could see she wasn’t going to be getting much more information out of him that way, so she changed tactics. She got up, grabbed his hand and tugged at it. “Come on. You’re skinny, and you’re freezing. I’ll make you some eggs an’ tea. One-time offer.”
The Doctor looked pained. “Donna . . .”
“Come on, you.” She gave his hand a yank.
He gave in, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and slipping his feet into a pair of slippers. He wore, Donna noted, pinstriped pajamas. That figured. She led him down the corridor to the kitchen, where she dug out a teakettle that looked like it came straight out of the Middle Ages and a frying pan that the Doctor told her came from the twenty-second century, and set to making breakfast.
When she was done, she heaped two plates with scrambled eggs (she really made very good scrambled eggs) and toast and set one in front of the Doctor and the other at her own customary seat. She made up a cup of tea the way he liked it (one sugar, milk) and one the way she liked it (three sugars, nothing else) and sat, setting the Doctor’s in front of him.
“So, back to my question,” Donna said. “Why are your nightmares waking me up? Some sort of telepathy thing, like back with the Ood? Eat up; it’ll get cold.”
The Doctor consented to taking a few bites before answering. “Strictly speaking, I wasn’t the one who woke you up. It was the TARDIS.”
“The TARDIS? How?”
“She gets in your head.” The Doctor took a sip of tea. “Like the languages. While you’re a passenger, you’re always connected to her.”
That was a little disturbing. “So . . . your ship can read my mind? And you didn’t tell me this before?”
“It’s not like that,” the Doctor hastened to say. “The TARDIS isn’t human; she doesn’t care what’s on your mind or what you do.” He was warming to his subject, gesturing with his hands and fork. “The connection you have to her, mental and physical, was designed to protect your well-being. It augments your immune system, helps you heal more quickly from injuries, even slows your aging a little. The mental connection not only translates languages for you, but gives you a measure of protection against mind control. Mind you, that’s not worth much against someone who’s really good at mind control, but it more or less covers amateurs.”
Donna decided to let it go for the time being. “And she’s waking me up for your nightmares because . . ?”
Instantly, the Doctor was a million miles away. “That hasn’t happened in a long time. Not since . . .”
Donna had, by that point, learned to read the Doctor’s expressions. This was his “Rose” face, which was longing with a side of grief. His “Martha” face was mostly guilt and sadness. “Since Rose?” Donna prompted gently.
The Doctor nodded. “Yes. I didn’t sleep much in the wake of the Time War. After Rose came on board, I was able to rest more--and, accordingly, had more nightmares. The TARDIS started waking her up, and she’d come and . . . she’d be there. She’d talk to me, lie with me in bed, hold my hand--just be with me, and I found it soothing.”
“What happened to her?” Donna asked.
“Cybermen. Daleks. A hole in the world, and she fell into it.” The Doctor picked at his eggs. “We were sending the Cybermen and Daleks into the Void between universes. Rose very nearly went with them, but she was saved by--by a friend from the other universe. When all was said and done, she was there, I was here, and ne’er the twain shall meet. Not ever again.” He took a long drink of his tea. “When you and I first met, I had just spoken with her for the last time. I’d found a small hole between universes that was about to close, and I used a tremendous amount of power to contact her. She was crying.”
“She’s probably stopped by now.” Donna gave him a soft smile. “If she loved you as much as it sounds like she did, she wouldn’t want you to be this sad.”
“She was always strong, my Rose.” He smiled a tender smile that made Donna think that perhaps he was a little fanciable after all. “She’s a big sister by now. Her mum crossed over with her, and since her dad had never died there, but his wife had, they ended up together, and last I heard, Jackie Tyler was pregnant. I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl? I’d go with a girl, since Pete and Jackie have a proven track record with girls.”
“I’m sure they’ll take your feelings into account,” Donna commented drily. “What about Martha?”
The Doctor was silent for a long moment. “The TARDIS never brought Martha to me. It wouldn’t have been fair to her. I wanted Rose, and Martha--Martha wanted me. If she’d come to my room in the middle of the night to help me, and I called out for Rose . . .”
“Yeah, you don’t want to do that.” Donna ate another bite of her eggs and gestured at the Doctor with her fork to do the same. Obediently, he ate. “So did Martha know about Rose?”
“Not much. She knew her name and that I’d traveled with Rose.” He finished his eggs and picked up his tea, eyes going distant. “The thing was, I needed a friend, and I knew Rose never wanted me to be alone. The thought made her cry the last time I saw her. But I--I liked Martha and was grateful for her presence, but when I looked at her, I saw, well, not Rose. And Martha sensed it. She was never second-best, Martha, but I made her feel that way. In the end, that was why she left.”
And yet, he still looked surprised when Donna dope-smacked him.
“What was that for?” he sputtered, grabbing a napkin to wipe up the tea he’d sloshed all over his hand.
“You really do think you’re the center of the universe, don’t you?” Donna asked wearily. “Is that how you ‘ruined half her life’? Because she had a crush on you while you were mooning over your ex?”
The Doctor glared at her. “No. Some very bad things happened to her because of me.”
“Right. An’ you did them to her, I suppose?”
“Well, no, not directly, but--”
“How old was this Martha?”
He looked at her suspiciously, as if he sensed a trick question ahead. “Twenty-three. Twenty-four by the time she left.”
“And what did she do for a living?” Donna demanded further.
“She was a medical student.” The Doctor thought a moment before adding, “And also the diplomatic go-between for her very complicated and fractious family.”
“So she was a big girl, is what you’re sayin’,” said Donna. “Smart, too, from the sounds of it. When I saw you for the first time, I could tell you were in love with this ‘friend’ Rose, an’ honestly? You’re hardly better now. If Martha missed the signs, she missed ‘em because she wanted to. Women do that occasionally.” Her mind flashed to Lance and all the signs she’d missed with him that she saw clearly in retrospect. “And I hate to tell you this, Peaches, but you’re hardly irresistible. Was Martha the kind of woman to stick with a man even if he made her miserable?”
The Doctor distinctly pouted. “No, I don’t suppose so, but--”
Donna interrupted again. “So in other words, the two of you had some good times, you were friends, and she stuck with you until she decided it was time to call it quits and get over her crazy crush. Am I right?”
“That’s . . . simplifying things a great deal, but--”
“But I’m basically right, yeah?”
“More or less.” He slumped. “I just wish things had been different.”
“Don’t we all?” Donna finished her tea. “I’d like to meet this Martha of yours.”
The Doctor sighed wistfully. “She really is brilliant, you know. She’s a strong woman. Like you. Like Rose.”
“If she’s all that, she’ll kick you in the shins for moping,” said Donna. “Rose should, too, next time you see her.”
He stiffened. “I’ll never see Rose again. It’s impossible.”
Donna snorted. “Since meeting you, I’ve stopped believing anything’s impossible.”
“No, Donna, this is.” The Doctor sounded more than a little defensive, even brittle. “Travel between universes is no longer possible. Ergo, it’s impossible for me to ever see Rose again. Trust me on this.”
“I would, but I’m not actually convinced you ever really know what you’re talking about.” Over his squawk of protest, she said, “You’ll see your Rose again, and then you’ll get to tell her what you stupidly didn’t before.” She stood and whisked the empty dishes off the table and walked them over to the sink.
There was silence from behind her for a long moment before the Doctor asked, “How--why do you say that?”
“ ‘Cause blokes are stupid, and every woman knows that,” Donna said almost tenderly as she turned around. “Mind you, she likely knew how you felt all along, but it’s nice to hear it. Keep that in mind, would you?” She walked back over to the table and affectionately ruffled his hair. “Get some rest. The universe’ll probably need saving in the morning. Again.”
She was almost out of the kitchen when the Doctor’s voice caught her. “Donna?”
“Yeah?” She looked over her shoulder at him.
His brown eyes were warm, and there were fewer shadows in them than there had been when he’d awakened. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” She left the kitchen and walked a few steps down the hall before hastening back and poking her head in. “Just not every night, okay? I need my sleep.”
He gave her a slight grin. “I’ll do my best.”
As Donna left, she felt something like a mental pat on the back. Must be a hell of a job, taking care of him all on your own, she thought at the TARDIS. All right. Wake me any time it gets too much.
When she got back to her room, it had a walk-in closet.