The Everyday Things Hurt the Most
Title: The Everyday Things Hurt the Most
Author: fading_xhopex
Set: A few days after Journey's End. Spoilers, obviously.
Characters: The Doctor(Mentions Of Donna)
Notes: Written for the doctor_donna weekly Challenge Drabble thing. Prompt 3=Lipstick This is angsty. With a Capital A. You are warned.
The slow hum of the Tardis's Vortex Manipulator was the only sound as the Doctor circled the console. It was hard to believe three days had passed since there was laughter and drinking and celebrating with his beloved friends. All them in the Tardis together, and still, even then, as he watched Donna man-handle his human twin off for drinks from the kitchen for all, that this would all end, and he would be alone again.
Three days since he had left Donna back with her family, no memories of anything that had happened to her since he had met her. No memories of Agatha Christie, the Ood, Pompeii. When he had said good-bye to her, she looked at him like she did when they had first met. His special Donna. His best mate. She was good as dead. All because of him.
He had returned most of Donna's things to her Grandfather while Donna lay sleeping, but he was still finding things of hers laying around the Tardis. Some of it was easy to deal with. An unwashed mug, the dress she had snatched from the wardrobe when visiting Agatha, note scribbled to remind herself to call her gramps. The rest he boxed away, hidden in the Tardis somewhere for when he could take it back, which would in all likelyhood be never. He couldn't face entering that house, and seeing something that reminded him of what he lost. It was worse than Rose and Martha leaving combined. It hurt to lose Rose, and he had plenty to remove and clean up after her, but still, he knew she was well, with her family, and thinking of him. He had the chance to say goodbye, even if he royally botched it up. Now he had given her what she had always wanted: Him, in a way that he could never give. Martha was always around if he wanted to talk. She made sure of that. But with Donna, she could never think of him, because as far as she knew, he didn't exist. If she did think of him, it was only in dreams, forgotten upon the morning. He would never be able to say that goodbye to her.
He looked down at the console, and stared. There, amongst his hastily scrawled notes and the mobile Martha had given him, lay a tube of lipstick. Donna's lipstick. The Doctor picked it up with a trembling hand, and tightened his fists around it.
It was the shade she had worn while visiting Agatha Christie. The shade she had worn when she kissed him. He could still feel her grabbing him, planting that kiss on him to shock his system into working again. The taste of her mingled with anchovies walnuts and ginger beer...not a good combination, but oh so memorable. He had realized in that moment, that he loved her, always had, always would. And he almost said something too, but the look she gave him made him lamely cover up. He always meant to steal a kiss from her later, when there was no need for detox, just to get her full taste.
Now he never would. It was all his fault. He should have found another way. Wasn't that what he always said, there always is another way? He opened eyes he didn't realized he closed, and found himself standing in front of the Tardis doors. He opened the doors, meaning to throw the offending lipstick out the door. He got as far as raising his arm to give it a good chuck, before he sighed, and let the lipstick drop into his pocket. Out of sight, but still close at hand.
It would be his penance, his way of both remembering and honoring Donna, and to punish himself for not finding a better way. The lipstick would remain in his pockets. Closing the door to the Tardis, he walked back over to the controls, and set a random date.
Author: fading_xhopex
Set: A few days after Journey's End. Spoilers, obviously.
Characters: The Doctor(Mentions Of Donna)
Notes: Written for the doctor_donna weekly Challenge Drabble thing. Prompt 3=Lipstick This is angsty. With a Capital A. You are warned.
The slow hum of the Tardis's Vortex Manipulator was the only sound as the Doctor circled the console. It was hard to believe three days had passed since there was laughter and drinking and celebrating with his beloved friends. All them in the Tardis together, and still, even then, as he watched Donna man-handle his human twin off for drinks from the kitchen for all, that this would all end, and he would be alone again.
Three days since he had left Donna back with her family, no memories of anything that had happened to her since he had met her. No memories of Agatha Christie, the Ood, Pompeii. When he had said good-bye to her, she looked at him like she did when they had first met. His special Donna. His best mate. She was good as dead. All because of him.
He had returned most of Donna's things to her Grandfather while Donna lay sleeping, but he was still finding things of hers laying around the Tardis. Some of it was easy to deal with. An unwashed mug, the dress she had snatched from the wardrobe when visiting Agatha, note scribbled to remind herself to call her gramps. The rest he boxed away, hidden in the Tardis somewhere for when he could take it back, which would in all likelyhood be never. He couldn't face entering that house, and seeing something that reminded him of what he lost. It was worse than Rose and Martha leaving combined. It hurt to lose Rose, and he had plenty to remove and clean up after her, but still, he knew she was well, with her family, and thinking of him. He had the chance to say goodbye, even if he royally botched it up. Now he had given her what she had always wanted: Him, in a way that he could never give. Martha was always around if he wanted to talk. She made sure of that. But with Donna, she could never think of him, because as far as she knew, he didn't exist. If she did think of him, it was only in dreams, forgotten upon the morning. He would never be able to say that goodbye to her.
He looked down at the console, and stared. There, amongst his hastily scrawled notes and the mobile Martha had given him, lay a tube of lipstick. Donna's lipstick. The Doctor picked it up with a trembling hand, and tightened his fists around it.
It was the shade she had worn while visiting Agatha Christie. The shade she had worn when she kissed him. He could still feel her grabbing him, planting that kiss on him to shock his system into working again. The taste of her mingled with anchovies walnuts and ginger beer...not a good combination, but oh so memorable. He had realized in that moment, that he loved her, always had, always would. And he almost said something too, but the look she gave him made him lamely cover up. He always meant to steal a kiss from her later, when there was no need for detox, just to get her full taste.
Now he never would. It was all his fault. He should have found another way. Wasn't that what he always said, there always is another way? He opened eyes he didn't realized he closed, and found himself standing in front of the Tardis doors. He opened the doors, meaning to throw the offending lipstick out the door. He got as far as raising his arm to give it a good chuck, before he sighed, and let the lipstick drop into his pocket. Out of sight, but still close at hand.
It would be his penance, his way of both remembering and honoring Donna, and to punish himself for not finding a better way. The lipstick would remain in his pockets. Closing the door to the Tardis, he walked back over to the controls, and set a random date.