Fic: Close Call (2/8)
Title: Close Call (2/?)
Author: shining_moment
Characters/Pairing: Doctor, Donna
Rating: PG
Summary: Donna Noble may not be a card-carrying genius but she’s smart enough to know a good situation from a bad one and this one is bad, all kinds of bad.
Disclaimer: Still in the hands of the BBC but the day negotiations open, you can bet I'll be at the front of the queue.
Donna Noble may not be a card-carrying genius but she’s smart enough to know a good situation from a bad one and this one is bad, all kinds of bad. There have been more than a few sticky situations since she started travelling with the Doctor and she’s come to learn that she is the one who panics and usually ends up feeling a bit of a twit for over-reacting, while the Doctor’s customary cool never fails him. Until just now, that is, when she looked into his eyes and couldn’t find one single fleck of calm.
She mentally scolds herself for being too slow, for never being able to keep up with him and his damn Time Lord speed, annoyed at her typically stupid self for managing to take a bullet mere seconds before they made it into the TARDIS, to safety. She tells the Doctor that and he tells her not to be silly, even says she’s been keeping up with him much better since she finally abandoned the inappropriate shoes. Bless him and his big, generous hearts, clearly oblivious to the fact that she knows he only grabs her hand so much because if he’s dragging her along, there’s a chance she’ll keep up with him. She tries to smile at him but is hit with such an instant wave of pain that it becomes more of a grimace.
Of course she’s no doctor but she has watched enough ER in her time to be fairly sure that the bullet causing her the worst pain she’s ever had has at least spared her vital organs. However she also paid enough attention to George Clooney back in the day to know that this amount of bleeding isn’t good and that it needs to be stopped before she goes into shock and everything starts to fall apart. She knows the Doctor will do whatever he can but she also recalls her first week on board the TARDIS when he gave her the grand tour, including the medical bay.
“And this is the medical bay- technology like no other, everything an injured Time Lord could ever need. So if I ever get hit by a speeding meteor, you just need to drag me in here and let the old girl do her work, ok?”
“Great, that’s you all sorted then. Does the magic stretch to us mere humans? What happens if I’m the one hit by the speeding meteor?”
“Well, then we just have to hope we can get you to a hospital quickly enough.”
In the face of the Doctor’s panic, Donna does what she usually does- she jokes, jokes because it always makes him smile, always manages to lighten his mood and she hopes that if she distracts him from his panic, forces him into keeping a cool head he’ll at least be able to focus on doing what he can until he gets them to a hospital.
For a few long seconds Donna almost loses it when she can’t see him properly. Oh he’s there, she knows that- she can sense him, smell him, feel his hand on her face but she can’t focus, can’t conjure up a clear image of his face. She closes her eyes then tries again, almost crying with the relief when his worried brown eyes eventually come into view. As much as being able to see him calms her, the look in his eyes as he stares into hers only heightens her anxiety and she hopes he can fix whatever he’s seeing because it‘s clearly not good.
Not here, she can’t die here, on the floor of the console room. Of course she’d be dead and that would be it for her but what she really can’t bear is the thought that kneeling down here covered in her blood would be the last memory he would have of her. They’ve had so much fun, so many wonderful times that for this to be the way they spend their last moments together would be so wrong, so unfair.
It could never be said that Donna is anything other than a strong, determined woman so of course she tries so hard when the Doctor asks if she can stand, even manages to crack a funny which, in light of her agony, is an achievement she’s very proud of. When everything in the room starts to swim around her though and her whole body feels like lead she knows she’s about to pass out and her final thought before she gives in to it is that if the bullet wound doesn’t kill her, the imminent crash onto the hard grating just might.
She only realises she’s no longer on the floor when she feels the Doctor scoop her up and hears his voice, almost begging her to hold on. His girl. Donna would probably give him a dig for that if she wasn’t concentrating so hard on not dying. Later, maybe. They must have made it to the medical bay because the next thing she is aware of is lying on a bed with some machine or other bleeping above her head and the Doctor’s hand brushing gently across her face.
His words aren’t clear to her but she can see his earnest face, gazing intently into her eyes and she knows he’s telling her he’s going to do whatever he has to and that he’s sorry if he hurts her. She manages to touch his hand, feels her own sticky blood all over it and she thinks she’s squeezing, hopes she is, but she’s really not sure and when he presses down harder on her shoulder again, everything goes black.
It’s a weird thing, this unconsciousness, because while she can’t possibly open her eyes or attempt to speak, she can still feel. She feels light, like she could float right up and out of the room and she’s cold, really cold but there is what feels like sweat running down her forehead. At least she hopes it’s sweat because if it’s blood she has no idea where it’s coming from and she’s in more trouble than she initially feared.
The next thing Donna feels is him, the Doctor, gently pulling a blanket over her and he’s talking but to someone else, not to her and in a blurred voice, like he’s underwater or like she’s underwater, she’s really not sure which. She senses his urgency at the same time as she senses her own heartbeat slowing, sluggishly attempting to carry on pumping the blood around her body, the blood that just keeps on pouring from her.
Then the Doctor isn’t there anymore and she doesn’t know how she knows that, she just does. He promised not to leave her but he’s gone and she thinks maybe her heart is trying to follow him because she doesn’t want to be alone now, doesn’t want him to leave her here, cold and hurting and trying so hard to hold on when everything inside just wants to slip away. Hold on, that’s my girl…
Donna has never spent much time wondering about death, about dying, but if anyone had asked her what she thought it would be like she probably would have subscribed to the age old long tunnel/white light theory. Well, what a pile of crap, really. Maybe that’s how it is for some people but it sure as hell isn’t that way for her. For her it’s a fight- her heart fights to keep beating because she has a life she loves now, people she loves. Her lungs fight to let her breathe because she still has so much to say, things she needs to tell people and no-one, no-one, tells Donna Noble to shut up before she’s ready.
The way she sees dying is as though suddenly the darkness is coming, like all the stars are blinking out of existence, one by one but she knows that can’t happen, it just can’t, it isn’t possible. Maybe because she lives in the stars now, high up in the stars, this is how she dies, with every speck of brightness slowly leaving her until there’s nothing but the darkness.
One word, one tiny word- no. No, no, no. It’s not her voice saying it though, it’s coming from outside of her but it’s burying itself inside her head somehow and it’s a voice she knows, the voice that never fails to make her heart smile.
“No! Don’t you do this to me Donna, I can’t lose you, I won’t lose you. Come on Donna, please. No, no!”
Her heart soars now, back to a slow yet steady beat and she hears him. No, she thinks, no indeed, you won’t lose me because I refuse to be lost, not now that I’m finally found. She fights against the darkness and it’s like punching through a brick wall, hard and exhausting, until eventually she can see the stars coming back again, one by one, sparkling for her.
And she breathes.
Author: shining_moment
Characters/Pairing: Doctor, Donna
Rating: PG
Summary: Donna Noble may not be a card-carrying genius but she’s smart enough to know a good situation from a bad one and this one is bad, all kinds of bad.
Disclaimer: Still in the hands of the BBC but the day negotiations open, you can bet I'll be at the front of the queue.
Donna Noble may not be a card-carrying genius but she’s smart enough to know a good situation from a bad one and this one is bad, all kinds of bad. There have been more than a few sticky situations since she started travelling with the Doctor and she’s come to learn that she is the one who panics and usually ends up feeling a bit of a twit for over-reacting, while the Doctor’s customary cool never fails him. Until just now, that is, when she looked into his eyes and couldn’t find one single fleck of calm.
She mentally scolds herself for being too slow, for never being able to keep up with him and his damn Time Lord speed, annoyed at her typically stupid self for managing to take a bullet mere seconds before they made it into the TARDIS, to safety. She tells the Doctor that and he tells her not to be silly, even says she’s been keeping up with him much better since she finally abandoned the inappropriate shoes. Bless him and his big, generous hearts, clearly oblivious to the fact that she knows he only grabs her hand so much because if he’s dragging her along, there’s a chance she’ll keep up with him. She tries to smile at him but is hit with such an instant wave of pain that it becomes more of a grimace.
Of course she’s no doctor but she has watched enough ER in her time to be fairly sure that the bullet causing her the worst pain she’s ever had has at least spared her vital organs. However she also paid enough attention to George Clooney back in the day to know that this amount of bleeding isn’t good and that it needs to be stopped before she goes into shock and everything starts to fall apart. She knows the Doctor will do whatever he can but she also recalls her first week on board the TARDIS when he gave her the grand tour, including the medical bay.
“And this is the medical bay- technology like no other, everything an injured Time Lord could ever need. So if I ever get hit by a speeding meteor, you just need to drag me in here and let the old girl do her work, ok?”
“Great, that’s you all sorted then. Does the magic stretch to us mere humans? What happens if I’m the one hit by the speeding meteor?”
“Well, then we just have to hope we can get you to a hospital quickly enough.”
In the face of the Doctor’s panic, Donna does what she usually does- she jokes, jokes because it always makes him smile, always manages to lighten his mood and she hopes that if she distracts him from his panic, forces him into keeping a cool head he’ll at least be able to focus on doing what he can until he gets them to a hospital.
For a few long seconds Donna almost loses it when she can’t see him properly. Oh he’s there, she knows that- she can sense him, smell him, feel his hand on her face but she can’t focus, can’t conjure up a clear image of his face. She closes her eyes then tries again, almost crying with the relief when his worried brown eyes eventually come into view. As much as being able to see him calms her, the look in his eyes as he stares into hers only heightens her anxiety and she hopes he can fix whatever he’s seeing because it‘s clearly not good.
Not here, she can’t die here, on the floor of the console room. Of course she’d be dead and that would be it for her but what she really can’t bear is the thought that kneeling down here covered in her blood would be the last memory he would have of her. They’ve had so much fun, so many wonderful times that for this to be the way they spend their last moments together would be so wrong, so unfair.
It could never be said that Donna is anything other than a strong, determined woman so of course she tries so hard when the Doctor asks if she can stand, even manages to crack a funny which, in light of her agony, is an achievement she’s very proud of. When everything in the room starts to swim around her though and her whole body feels like lead she knows she’s about to pass out and her final thought before she gives in to it is that if the bullet wound doesn’t kill her, the imminent crash onto the hard grating just might.
She only realises she’s no longer on the floor when she feels the Doctor scoop her up and hears his voice, almost begging her to hold on. His girl. Donna would probably give him a dig for that if she wasn’t concentrating so hard on not dying. Later, maybe. They must have made it to the medical bay because the next thing she is aware of is lying on a bed with some machine or other bleeping above her head and the Doctor’s hand brushing gently across her face.
His words aren’t clear to her but she can see his earnest face, gazing intently into her eyes and she knows he’s telling her he’s going to do whatever he has to and that he’s sorry if he hurts her. She manages to touch his hand, feels her own sticky blood all over it and she thinks she’s squeezing, hopes she is, but she’s really not sure and when he presses down harder on her shoulder again, everything goes black.
It’s a weird thing, this unconsciousness, because while she can’t possibly open her eyes or attempt to speak, she can still feel. She feels light, like she could float right up and out of the room and she’s cold, really cold but there is what feels like sweat running down her forehead. At least she hopes it’s sweat because if it’s blood she has no idea where it’s coming from and she’s in more trouble than she initially feared.
The next thing Donna feels is him, the Doctor, gently pulling a blanket over her and he’s talking but to someone else, not to her and in a blurred voice, like he’s underwater or like she’s underwater, she’s really not sure which. She senses his urgency at the same time as she senses her own heartbeat slowing, sluggishly attempting to carry on pumping the blood around her body, the blood that just keeps on pouring from her.
Then the Doctor isn’t there anymore and she doesn’t know how she knows that, she just does. He promised not to leave her but he’s gone and she thinks maybe her heart is trying to follow him because she doesn’t want to be alone now, doesn’t want him to leave her here, cold and hurting and trying so hard to hold on when everything inside just wants to slip away. Hold on, that’s my girl…
Donna has never spent much time wondering about death, about dying, but if anyone had asked her what she thought it would be like she probably would have subscribed to the age old long tunnel/white light theory. Well, what a pile of crap, really. Maybe that’s how it is for some people but it sure as hell isn’t that way for her. For her it’s a fight- her heart fights to keep beating because she has a life she loves now, people she loves. Her lungs fight to let her breathe because she still has so much to say, things she needs to tell people and no-one, no-one, tells Donna Noble to shut up before she’s ready.
The way she sees dying is as though suddenly the darkness is coming, like all the stars are blinking out of existence, one by one but she knows that can’t happen, it just can’t, it isn’t possible. Maybe because she lives in the stars now, high up in the stars, this is how she dies, with every speck of brightness slowly leaving her until there’s nothing but the darkness.
One word, one tiny word- no. No, no, no. It’s not her voice saying it though, it’s coming from outside of her but it’s burying itself inside her head somehow and it’s a voice she knows, the voice that never fails to make her heart smile.
“No! Don’t you do this to me Donna, I can’t lose you, I won’t lose you. Come on Donna, please. No, no!”
Her heart soars now, back to a slow yet steady beat and she hears him. No, she thinks, no indeed, you won’t lose me because I refuse to be lost, not now that I’m finally found. She fights against the darkness and it’s like punching through a brick wall, hard and exhausting, until eventually she can see the stars coming back again, one by one, sparkling for her.
And she breathes.