Au Revoir
Title: Au Revoir
Series: And The Clock Struck Two
Rating: PG
Characters: Ten, Donna -> Eleven, Donna II
Spoilers: Journey's End
Summary: What can I say? Angst, then happy. Bye bye soon, Ten, we love you *sigh*.
It was the stupidest thing. Just one word, it had taken.
The word had been “Doctor”, of course. Someone at the clinic had said it in a certain way, bringing the memories trickling back to Donna in a stream. So that by the evening, when she was out walking and wincing and hoping that the fresh air would help cure her headache, it all came flooding back in a deadly whirlpool.
Donna didn’t know how he’d found out about it, but he was there at her side almost instantly as she hunched over and burst into tears, the pain threatening to rip apart her skull.
The Doctor hastened to support her, coaxing her down gently on the blowing grass. Her shoulders shook with sobs. But they were bitter tears, because she could see a little smile on his face and she knew that he’d figured out what he was going to do to take away the Time Lord consciousness this time, and what it would do to him; and she could see that he didn’t even care because the silly, stupid sod had decided that he had to save her, not even the most important woman in the universe any more; just her, Donna Noble.
His lips ghosted over her temple as she sobbed, trying to push him away, to let him know that he couldn’t do this, but he was insistent as he kissed his way over her forehead and ears and cheeks and lips. Where his lips touched her skin she felt the prickling and burning cease as the destructive Time Lord energy leeched out through her pores and into him.
Somewhere along the way she realised that she’d stopped struggling and was grasping him close to her, the tears continuing to stream down her face. He kissed those away too.
At last he pulled back, gasping and shaking his head as he tried to gulp down air. Donna knew, with her last clinging vestiges of Time Lord knowledge, that his lungs must be literally burning up by now. She lunged forward to catch him as he crumpled backwards, his limbs splaying on the ground.
He stared up at her, his eyes not leaving hers for a moment despite his choking coughs and the violent jerking movements ravaging his body. He still had that little smile on his face, and the only sign of his pain was in the lines around his mouth. Donna couldn’t understand his self-control, because she’d been in his head; she knew what happened during the regeneration process and what unspeakable pain he must be in right now. Still, she couldn’t cry any more; this was no time for tears. She unbuttoned his jacket with trembling fingers and wriggled it over his shoulders, then rubbed his chest vigorously, her face pale and pinched.
“Donna,” said the Doctor faintly, his voice rasping. She shushed him.
“For god’s sake, just shut up for once in your life. Please.”
The Doctor obeyed her, still staring as though memorising her face. Which he probably was; both of them knowing that this would be the last time he’d ever see her like this, through these eyes. Even now Donna could see his pupils dilating and turning shades of gold and orange. She wondered, not for the first time, why it was that the most beautiful-looking things in the universe so often turned out to be the most deadly.
His skin was changing too, becoming more translucent. Donna watched helplessly as the beginnings of a pale gold haze shone around him.
“No,” she said suddenly, sitting back on her heels, refusing to accept it. “No …”
The Doctor managed to quirk his eyebrow questioningly at her, even in the middle of a painful-sounding cough. The energy was glowing palpably around him now. He cried out in agony as it flared; then - then the poor idiot smiled apologetically at her.
Donna felt her eyes welling up. That did it. She didn’t even have to think twice. She hurled herself forward and wrapped her arms around the Doctor, whimpering in shock as the energy fizzled against her skin.
“Donna, get back!” exclaimed the Doctor in alarm, coughing and hacking as he tried to wriggle loose.
Good. She’d always liked shocking him.
“Nope,” she told him, panting, holding on with a steely clasp and wincing as the haze slowly wrapped itself around her limbs, creeping along her body. “We’re in it together, us two. You’re not sticking it out alone any more. I’m coming along for the ride.”
His mouth was going open and closed like a fish, and only about half of it was from the coughing.
“But - you can’t! It’ll - you know what it’ll do to you?”
“Yep.”
The Doctor shook his head in a mixture of reproof and awe. Donna felt her eyes going swimmy.
“Donna, this may not be the best time to tell you this, but - you’re just a little bit crazy, you know that?”
“Guess who drove me to it, Spaceman,” she retorted, blinking furiously to try and clear her eyes. He laughed. Laughed joyously, and laughed hoarsely, and just laughed, and she couldn't help it; she joined him.
He quietened sooner than he might have done ordinarily, the pain obviously affecting him far more than he cared to admit. But he still managed to smile fondly at her between bouts of coughing. His eyes had become deep, swirling pools. Donna could just barely see her own gaze reflected in them. Everything was turning a sheer hazy gold, even him. And it was quite simply beautiful.
“See you on the other side, then?” he promised her, his voice low and intent.
“You betcha,” she gasped, shuddering as flames seemed to lap at her; within her. “Allons … y,” she managed to get out through gritted teeth.
“Au revoir, Donna … Noble,” he choked out, cocking his head at her with a brilliant grin, and then she tucked her head against his shoulder, bracing herself.
When the full extent of the regenerative energy hit them, it was like nothing she could have imagined; it felt as though she was being bathed in liquid fire, every part of her literally melting as she felt the Doctor melt with her …
* * *
Donna opened one eye, squinting.
And then the other.
Nope, too soon. Bright light pierced them and she slammed them shut.
After a moment she peeked again. This time she was relieved to find it seemed a bit paler and more manageable. Splitting headache, though. She sat up, groaning. To her surprise there was an answering groan, and suddenly she remembered the Doctor. She swivelled, hardly daring to hope ...
Sitting up beside her was a man, rubbing his head ruefully. When he noticed her looking at him, his face lit up and Donna could have cried in relief. The face was completely different - more sort of chiselled - but those eyes, that grin. The terrible suit, of course. That damn tuft of hair. It had to be the Doctor. Well, either that or it was all part of an elaborate ruse to kidnap her, in which case she’d be clocking this grinning young chappie over the head in a minute.
“Donna!” he exclaimed, holding his arms out and wiggling his fingers. Sleeves too long, she noted.
“Yeah?” she replied. Oh, that sounded odd. She cleared her throat. Her voice seemed different; higher, clearer.
The man looked a little put out.
“It’s me. The Doctor. Hello! Remember?”
Donna tipped her head to the side, eyeing him suspiciously. He cleared his throat nervously.
“Um, you know - ‘Talking about my regeneration'?”
Donna spluttered at his singing and nearly died on the spot. He’d turned into a bit of a wannabe singer? A wannabe singer with a bad memory for lyrics, who couldn’t hold a tune?
“No, don’t,” she told him hastily. “Really - don’t do that.”
He shrugged and stopped, gazing earnestly at her as he waited for her to speak.
“Part of me,” she began, her voice tremulous and not sounding quite right to her ears, “part of me wants to run to the nearest mirror just to make sure I’m not imagining all this. And part of me just wants to do this …”
She hit him on the arm, as hard as she could.
“Ow! Donna!”
“What the hell were you thinking, letting me do that?”
She hit him again.
“You wanted to!” he exclaimed.
“I was all emotional and brainless and weepy, you twerp! I wasn’t even thinking! Oh god.” She stopped hitting and put her fingers to her temples. “I think I’m having an identity crisis …”
The Doctor was grinning in the same old inane way, with maybe a hint more of a smirk. Donna glared at him.
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing. It’s just - you’re still you,” he said happily.
“Duh! Who did you think I’d be, bloody Jane Jetson? All right. Tell me the worst, go on. How do I look?”
She tilted her head in profile at him, feeling suddenly nervous, running her hand over her face and through her hair.
Oh. It felt cropped.
“I like it,” declared the Doctor stoutly. “I mean, I liked you just fine before. But you suit this look too - I mean, it suits you. They both do. Did. Um - do. Yeah.”
Donna smiled, still picking at her hair.
“I, um, I can’t see up here. Am I still ginger?”
“Oh - nope,” said the Doctor with regret. “It’s all dark and short, actually. Nice, though.” His eyes ran over her and he rubbed his nose shyly. “You - you look younger, Donna.”
“Seriously?” she said, delighted. “Same right back atcha … Spaceman.”
She thought he seemed rather too pleased upon hearing it. He’d always thought far too much of his looks for his own good.
“And?” he continued, looking at Donna eagerly, gesturing up and down his face and body. “Well?”
She shrugged. Better not let him get too big for his boots.
“Meh.”
It was quite comical how quickly this new face of his fell. Donna stored away that bit of information to use in the future - on as many occasions as possible.
“Oh, I’m kidding, Dopeylocks,” she admitted. She reached out and ruffled his hair, letting the strands run through her fingers. “You look fine.”
The Doctor gave her a familiar look of half reproach, half relief - it was weird seeing it on another face though - and shuffled closer on his knees. He gently placed his hands on Donna's chest, raising his eyebrows at her. She raised her eyebrows back, waiting for the regeneration verdict. The Doctor squinted, concentrating on her pulse, then nodded.
“It worked,” he said simply.
She let out a sigh, as did he. They remained there for a moment. Quite a long moment.
And ... an even longer moment.
Donna glared at him.
“Get - your - hands - off,” she enunciated threateningly. The Doctor removed his fingers from her chest, looking sheepish.
“Thought you’d try it on with me?” said Donna, pursing her lips and folding her arms protectively across her body. “Now that I’m all - I dunno - ‘hot young Donna the Time Lord’?”
His mouth was moving like a fish again. Oh, she’d never get tired of that.
“No!” he squeaked.
Nor that.
“You’re not hot - I mean, you’re not not hot - no! I mean …”
He kept on babbling. Donna watched, grinning, as he continued to put numerous feet in apparently even more numerous mouths. All in all, she was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. He'd just begun fervently explaining something about playing leapfrog in ancient Babylon - god knew how he’d got onto the subject - when she laughed and put him out of his misery, throwing herself at him for a hug, feeling her new hearts race joyously as this equally new Doctor sighed in relief and squeezed her in return, even harder than he ever had before.
Oh yes. Him and her. Together again. They were going to be just fine.
Continued in The Clothes Maketh The Man
Series: And The Clock Struck Two
Rating: PG
Characters: Ten, Donna -> Eleven, Donna II
Spoilers: Journey's End
Summary: What can I say? Angst, then happy. Bye bye soon, Ten, we love you *sigh*.
It was the stupidest thing. Just one word, it had taken.
The word had been “Doctor”, of course. Someone at the clinic had said it in a certain way, bringing the memories trickling back to Donna in a stream. So that by the evening, when she was out walking and wincing and hoping that the fresh air would help cure her headache, it all came flooding back in a deadly whirlpool.
Donna didn’t know how he’d found out about it, but he was there at her side almost instantly as she hunched over and burst into tears, the pain threatening to rip apart her skull.
The Doctor hastened to support her, coaxing her down gently on the blowing grass. Her shoulders shook with sobs. But they were bitter tears, because she could see a little smile on his face and she knew that he’d figured out what he was going to do to take away the Time Lord consciousness this time, and what it would do to him; and she could see that he didn’t even care because the silly, stupid sod had decided that he had to save her, not even the most important woman in the universe any more; just her, Donna Noble.
His lips ghosted over her temple as she sobbed, trying to push him away, to let him know that he couldn’t do this, but he was insistent as he kissed his way over her forehead and ears and cheeks and lips. Where his lips touched her skin she felt the prickling and burning cease as the destructive Time Lord energy leeched out through her pores and into him.
Somewhere along the way she realised that she’d stopped struggling and was grasping him close to her, the tears continuing to stream down her face. He kissed those away too.
At last he pulled back, gasping and shaking his head as he tried to gulp down air. Donna knew, with her last clinging vestiges of Time Lord knowledge, that his lungs must be literally burning up by now. She lunged forward to catch him as he crumpled backwards, his limbs splaying on the ground.
He stared up at her, his eyes not leaving hers for a moment despite his choking coughs and the violent jerking movements ravaging his body. He still had that little smile on his face, and the only sign of his pain was in the lines around his mouth. Donna couldn’t understand his self-control, because she’d been in his head; she knew what happened during the regeneration process and what unspeakable pain he must be in right now. Still, she couldn’t cry any more; this was no time for tears. She unbuttoned his jacket with trembling fingers and wriggled it over his shoulders, then rubbed his chest vigorously, her face pale and pinched.
“Donna,” said the Doctor faintly, his voice rasping. She shushed him.
“For god’s sake, just shut up for once in your life. Please.”
The Doctor obeyed her, still staring as though memorising her face. Which he probably was; both of them knowing that this would be the last time he’d ever see her like this, through these eyes. Even now Donna could see his pupils dilating and turning shades of gold and orange. She wondered, not for the first time, why it was that the most beautiful-looking things in the universe so often turned out to be the most deadly.
His skin was changing too, becoming more translucent. Donna watched helplessly as the beginnings of a pale gold haze shone around him.
“No,” she said suddenly, sitting back on her heels, refusing to accept it. “No …”
The Doctor managed to quirk his eyebrow questioningly at her, even in the middle of a painful-sounding cough. The energy was glowing palpably around him now. He cried out in agony as it flared; then - then the poor idiot smiled apologetically at her.
Donna felt her eyes welling up. That did it. She didn’t even have to think twice. She hurled herself forward and wrapped her arms around the Doctor, whimpering in shock as the energy fizzled against her skin.
“Donna, get back!” exclaimed the Doctor in alarm, coughing and hacking as he tried to wriggle loose.
Good. She’d always liked shocking him.
“Nope,” she told him, panting, holding on with a steely clasp and wincing as the haze slowly wrapped itself around her limbs, creeping along her body. “We’re in it together, us two. You’re not sticking it out alone any more. I’m coming along for the ride.”
His mouth was going open and closed like a fish, and only about half of it was from the coughing.
“But - you can’t! It’ll - you know what it’ll do to you?”
“Yep.”
The Doctor shook his head in a mixture of reproof and awe. Donna felt her eyes going swimmy.
“Donna, this may not be the best time to tell you this, but - you’re just a little bit crazy, you know that?”
“Guess who drove me to it, Spaceman,” she retorted, blinking furiously to try and clear her eyes. He laughed. Laughed joyously, and laughed hoarsely, and just laughed, and she couldn't help it; she joined him.
He quietened sooner than he might have done ordinarily, the pain obviously affecting him far more than he cared to admit. But he still managed to smile fondly at her between bouts of coughing. His eyes had become deep, swirling pools. Donna could just barely see her own gaze reflected in them. Everything was turning a sheer hazy gold, even him. And it was quite simply beautiful.
“See you on the other side, then?” he promised her, his voice low and intent.
“You betcha,” she gasped, shuddering as flames seemed to lap at her; within her. “Allons … y,” she managed to get out through gritted teeth.
“Au revoir, Donna … Noble,” he choked out, cocking his head at her with a brilliant grin, and then she tucked her head against his shoulder, bracing herself.
When the full extent of the regenerative energy hit them, it was like nothing she could have imagined; it felt as though she was being bathed in liquid fire, every part of her literally melting as she felt the Doctor melt with her …
* * *
Donna opened one eye, squinting.
And then the other.
Nope, too soon. Bright light pierced them and she slammed them shut.
After a moment she peeked again. This time she was relieved to find it seemed a bit paler and more manageable. Splitting headache, though. She sat up, groaning. To her surprise there was an answering groan, and suddenly she remembered the Doctor. She swivelled, hardly daring to hope ...
Sitting up beside her was a man, rubbing his head ruefully. When he noticed her looking at him, his face lit up and Donna could have cried in relief. The face was completely different - more sort of chiselled - but those eyes, that grin. The terrible suit, of course. That damn tuft of hair. It had to be the Doctor. Well, either that or it was all part of an elaborate ruse to kidnap her, in which case she’d be clocking this grinning young chappie over the head in a minute.
“Donna!” he exclaimed, holding his arms out and wiggling his fingers. Sleeves too long, she noted.
“Yeah?” she replied. Oh, that sounded odd. She cleared her throat. Her voice seemed different; higher, clearer.
The man looked a little put out.
“It’s me. The Doctor. Hello! Remember?”
Donna tipped her head to the side, eyeing him suspiciously. He cleared his throat nervously.
“Um, you know - ‘Talking about my regeneration'?”
Donna spluttered at his singing and nearly died on the spot. He’d turned into a bit of a wannabe singer? A wannabe singer with a bad memory for lyrics, who couldn’t hold a tune?
“No, don’t,” she told him hastily. “Really - don’t do that.”
He shrugged and stopped, gazing earnestly at her as he waited for her to speak.
“Part of me,” she began, her voice tremulous and not sounding quite right to her ears, “part of me wants to run to the nearest mirror just to make sure I’m not imagining all this. And part of me just wants to do this …”
She hit him on the arm, as hard as she could.
“Ow! Donna!”
“What the hell were you thinking, letting me do that?”
She hit him again.
“You wanted to!” he exclaimed.
“I was all emotional and brainless and weepy, you twerp! I wasn’t even thinking! Oh god.” She stopped hitting and put her fingers to her temples. “I think I’m having an identity crisis …”
The Doctor was grinning in the same old inane way, with maybe a hint more of a smirk. Donna glared at him.
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing. It’s just - you’re still you,” he said happily.
“Duh! Who did you think I’d be, bloody Jane Jetson? All right. Tell me the worst, go on. How do I look?”
She tilted her head in profile at him, feeling suddenly nervous, running her hand over her face and through her hair.
Oh. It felt cropped.
“I like it,” declared the Doctor stoutly. “I mean, I liked you just fine before. But you suit this look too - I mean, it suits you. They both do. Did. Um - do. Yeah.”
Donna smiled, still picking at her hair.
“I, um, I can’t see up here. Am I still ginger?”
“Oh - nope,” said the Doctor with regret. “It’s all dark and short, actually. Nice, though.” His eyes ran over her and he rubbed his nose shyly. “You - you look younger, Donna.”
“Seriously?” she said, delighted. “Same right back atcha … Spaceman.”
She thought he seemed rather too pleased upon hearing it. He’d always thought far too much of his looks for his own good.
“And?” he continued, looking at Donna eagerly, gesturing up and down his face and body. “Well?”
She shrugged. Better not let him get too big for his boots.
“Meh.”
It was quite comical how quickly this new face of his fell. Donna stored away that bit of information to use in the future - on as many occasions as possible.
“Oh, I’m kidding, Dopeylocks,” she admitted. She reached out and ruffled his hair, letting the strands run through her fingers. “You look fine.”
The Doctor gave her a familiar look of half reproach, half relief - it was weird seeing it on another face though - and shuffled closer on his knees. He gently placed his hands on Donna's chest, raising his eyebrows at her. She raised her eyebrows back, waiting for the regeneration verdict. The Doctor squinted, concentrating on her pulse, then nodded.
“It worked,” he said simply.
She let out a sigh, as did he. They remained there for a moment. Quite a long moment.
And ... an even longer moment.
Donna glared at him.
“Get - your - hands - off,” she enunciated threateningly. The Doctor removed his fingers from her chest, looking sheepish.
“Thought you’d try it on with me?” said Donna, pursing her lips and folding her arms protectively across her body. “Now that I’m all - I dunno - ‘hot young Donna the Time Lord’?”
His mouth was moving like a fish again. Oh, she’d never get tired of that.
“No!” he squeaked.
Nor that.
“You’re not hot - I mean, you’re not not hot - no! I mean …”
He kept on babbling. Donna watched, grinning, as he continued to put numerous feet in apparently even more numerous mouths. All in all, she was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. He'd just begun fervently explaining something about playing leapfrog in ancient Babylon - god knew how he’d got onto the subject - when she laughed and put him out of his misery, throwing herself at him for a hug, feeling her new hearts race joyously as this equally new Doctor sighed in relief and squeezed her in return, even harder than he ever had before.
Oh yes. Him and her. Together again. They were going to be just fine.
Continued in The Clothes Maketh The Man