Fic: Close Call (4/8)
Title: Close Call (4/8)
Author: shining_moment
Characters/Pairing: Doctor, Donna, Martha
Rating: PG
Summary: Selfishly, he wonders how he’ll cope without her, who will tell him off, push him to do the right thing when he’s wavering, make him talk when all he wants to do is brood, make him laugh with such complete ease and hold his hand exactly when he needs it.
Disclaimer: Still not mine but it's nearly Christmas so there's hope. Yeah, I'm talking to you, Santa!
“We lost her…we lost her…we lost her…”
The Doctor feels sick, sick right down to the pit of his stomach. He can’t help thinking this is all his fault, how if he’d said no to her back then when she showed up in the rain with her mountain of luggage, if he’d just said yes actually, he would rather be alone then this never would have happened. He doesn’t know how he will tell her mother, her granddad- Wilf trusted him with her life, his precious granddaughter, and the Doctor has failed him, let him down and lost Donna in the worst possible way. He can’t possibly tell them that she lay there in his arms in pain, bleeding and bleeding until her body just couldn’t take anymore? He can and will tell them how brave she was though, that she refused to give up without a fight and never lost that wonderful spirit that makes her- made her- Donna.
Selfishly, he wonders how he’ll cope without her, who will tell him off, push him to do the right thing when he’s wavering, make him talk when all he wants to do is brood, make him laugh with such complete ease and hold his hand exactly when he needs it. His hearts begin to ache with the realisation that he’ll never hug her again and he is startled when he suddenly becomes aware of someone stepping in front of him, placing firm hands on his shoulders, trying to get his attention.
Reluctantly he breaks out of the bubble he seems to have retreated into and he sees Martha, another human whose life he almost ruined but who at least got out of it alive. He realises then that he had no idea she was still talking, had barely even acknowledged she was still there, heard nothing more after “we lost her…” until she forces him to look at her again and continues,
“I have to tell you it didn’t look good for a while. We lost her but we got her heart started again and she’s hanging on in there, she’s fighting,” Martha smiles faintly at him, “And she’s obviously not planning on going anywhere just yet.”
He can’t quite believe what he’s hearing and can’t seem to speak, instead just sits staring at Martha, who takes her hands from his shoulders and sits down again beside him,
“She’s alive, Doctor and she’s breathing on her own which is a good sign, really good.”
For the first time in what seems like forever, he feels his hearts lift and he dares a tentative smile back at Martha. Donna’s alive, she’s alive and he can’t wait to see her, to see with his own eyes that she’s breathing, that her heart is beating again. He jumps abruptly up from the seat, energised by the very comprehension that he hasn’t lost her, that she may actually be ok,
“I need to see her. Can I see her?”
“She’s being taken upstairs so as soon as they have her settled up there you can see her. For now though, I want you to go and wash your hands and face, clean yourself up then come back here and I’ll find out if you can see her. Ok?”
Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t have the energy to argue with her. Besides, she’s right, he may have replaced his shirt but Donna’s blood is still all over his hands and smeared across his face and the last thing he wants is to have to be reminded of what a close call this was. He nods and turns to head towards the bathrooms, stopping and turning back when he hears Martha’s voice behind him,
“Oh, nice t-shirt, by the way.”
He looks down at his chest, the first hint of a genuine grin ghosting across his face as he turns away and heads down the hall.
#
Stopping outside Donna’s room, Martha turns to the Doctor,
“Listen, before we go in and because I know how impatient you are,” she smiles and he doesn’t try to disagree with her, “She isn’t awake and there’s a good chance, given everything she’s been through, that she could be out for a while yet. Like I told you, she’s breathing for herself but she is on a monitor so that we can keep an eye on her vitals. We’ve also got her on a good bit of pain relief intravenously so when she does wake up, she’s probably going to be a bit groggy.”
He nods, desperate to just get in there and see her. Martha opens the door and steps in ahead of him and he stops in his tracks as soon as he sees Donna, lying so still and so quiet, the only sound in the room the rhythmic beeping of the monitor telling them everything’s ok. She’s still terribly pale but her skin has lost the worrying grey tone it had taken on earlier. He lets out a long, relieved breath and, as he does, he feels Martha touch his arm lightly.
“Go and sit down Doctor. Talk to her, let her know you’re here, that’s she’s ok.”
He moves towards the bed and sits down in the chair beside her, reaching tentatively for her hand and stroking her skin softly, closing his eyes in sheer and complete relief at the warmth he feels there.
When he opens his eyes again, Martha has gone, leaving the two of them alone. The Doctor doesn’t take his hand from Donna’s, just keeps hold of her, almost afraid to let go for a second in case he loses her, even though he knows how ridiculous that is.
“Donna…I don’t know if you can hear me, I hope you can. It’s me, by the way, the Doctor, but you probably got that already though, yeah. Blimey Donna, you scared me with this little stunt. You really should give a man some warning if you’re going to stop breathing like that, it’s only fair,“ he pauses because his voice appears to be failing him and he doesn’t want her waking up to find him unable to string a sentence together, “Seriously, I thought- well, I thought I’d lost you there a couple of times, I really did. I thought you-”
The Doctor stops because he’s not really sure what he’s trying to say and because, if she can hear him, she’s probably wondering what the hell he’s babbling on about anyway. Leaning forward, still not taking his hand from hers, he brushes the fingers of his other hand gently through her hair, shuddering slightly when he thinks of the last time he did this, in total panic, fearing he might have heard her voice for the last time.
“I’m sorry Donna, I’m so sorry,” again, he closes his eyes for a few seconds, “This wasn’t supposed to happen, nothing like this was ever supposed to happen. When you’re better and out of here, we‘ll go somewhere really nice while you recuperate. Somewhere warm and I won‘t complain if you want us to just sit around and do nothing for a while. Well, I won’t complain much. Then we‘ll get stuck into that list, I promise.”
He smiles at her and suddenly realises he’s exhausted, it feels like everything has just hit him at once and what he wants more than anything is to be able to hug her but he knows he can’t, not yet, not while she’s hooked up to the monitor, still on the IV and with a shoulder in a sling that‘s going to take a bit of time to heal. God, he’s going to hug her so hard when he finally can though.
It’s only when Martha returns that the Doctor realises it’s been hours since she left and he has just been sitting here, holding Donna’s hand, talking to her and willing her to wake up. Martha puts a glass of water and a banana on the stand beside the bed,
“I know you’re going to say you’re not hungry but you need to at least eat something.”
The Doctor nods, “Thanks.”
Martha checks the monitor, takes Donna’s pulse and squeezes her hand gently before turning to fill in the chart at the end of the bed.
“I’m not even going to try and persuade you to get some rest but please at least stretch your legs from time to time,” she glances at Donna, “She’s not going anywhere and you know very well that she wouldn’t hold it against you for taking a break every now and then.”
He doesn’t look at Martha, doesn’t take his eyes from the bed, murmuring almost dismissively, “I’m not going anywhere until she’s awake. I walked away before, for just a couple of minutes and she…well, I’m not doing that again.”
Martha sighs, knowing better than to waste her time attempting to change his mind,
“Ok, well, I’ll be back in the morning. Try to at least rest a little. Please?”
“I’ll try,” he finally looks back at her, “Thank you Martha, for everything, thank you.”
She nods and rests her hand briefly on his shoulder, squeezing lightly, before closing the door softly behind her.
#
The first night, he doesn’t talk to her much at all, hoping that if he lets her sleep she’ll be ready to wake up in the morning. When Martha comes back, she insists that he goes and freshens up, takes a break for just a few moments. The Doctor reluctantly agrees but not before he has her absolute guarantee that she won’t leave Donna until he comes back and that if she so much as moves an inch, she has to fetch him.
The second night he leaves the blinds open thinking that maybe she needs to be able to see the stars, to feel like she’s back home on the TARDIS but the night passes and when the morning comes she still sleeps. He talks to her almost constantly for the rest of the third day about everything and anything, his cunning plan being that she’ll wake up even if it’s just for long enough to tell him to zip it.
The third night he leaves her for two minutes, slips briefly down the hall to splash some water on his face then practically sprints back when he hears an alarm and sees doctors, nurses running in the direction of Donna’s room only to slump to the floor in relief when they carry on past her door.
He refuses to go anywhere after that, tells Martha that the only way he’ll leave the room before Donna wakes up is if someone drags him out by the hair and that he knows she wouldn’t dare mess with his hair. So, Martha stops commenting and just brings him a silent supply of water, bananas and sandwiches which he only picks at but thanks her for anyway.
Several times he thinks he feels Donna’s fingers fluttering beneath his own, trying to grasp something but he doesn’t raise his hopes too high, very aware that it may just be his own wishful thinking. He does allow himself to squeeze her hand a little tighter though just in case, so that she absolutely knows for certain he’s there if that’s what she’s questioning at all.
On the fifth morning, the Doctor is just taking a sip of water when he definitely feels her hand move, without a doubt this time and he almost drops the glass. He gently turns her hand over to that he can entwine his fingers with hers and when she curls her own fingers around his in response he feels tears spring to his eyes.
“Donna, can you hear me? If you can hear me, open your eyes, please.”
The next few seconds feel like hours as he refuses to take his eyes off her, still squeezing her hand, half expecting her to wake up and shout at him for trying to break her fingers.
A faint frown wrinkles Donna’s brow and the tip of her tongue peeks out to moisten the lips he’s been carefully covering with lip balm every morning. The Doctor realises then that he’s holding his breath so he lets out a small sigh and, as he does, he sees her eyes open slowly and she blinks like someone coming out of a dark building into blinding sunshine.
It doesn’t happen immediately but eventually she focuses and settles her gaze on him, the two pools of determined blue that he’s missed so much. He feels a smile spread slowly across his face at the same time he feels a tear sneaking from his eye and rolling quietly down his face. He supposes he should probably wipe it away, try not to fall to pieces completely but decides it doesn’t matter because Donna’s awake and that is what matters.
She licks her lips again and tugs lightly on his hand. He thinks she wants to say something so he leans closer to her. She untangles their fingers and reaches her hand up to his face, her thumb sliding gently across his face to wipe away the tears before she whispers, her voice croaky and so faint he can only just hear her, “No crying Spaceman, I’m alright.”
Relieved, the Doctor pulls her hand back from his cheek and places a soft kiss to her palm, only now daring to believe that she just might be alright, that they both might be.
Author: shining_moment
Characters/Pairing: Doctor, Donna, Martha
Rating: PG
Summary: Selfishly, he wonders how he’ll cope without her, who will tell him off, push him to do the right thing when he’s wavering, make him talk when all he wants to do is brood, make him laugh with such complete ease and hold his hand exactly when he needs it.
Disclaimer: Still not mine but it's nearly Christmas so there's hope. Yeah, I'm talking to you, Santa!
“We lost her…we lost her…we lost her…”
The Doctor feels sick, sick right down to the pit of his stomach. He can’t help thinking this is all his fault, how if he’d said no to her back then when she showed up in the rain with her mountain of luggage, if he’d just said yes actually, he would rather be alone then this never would have happened. He doesn’t know how he will tell her mother, her granddad- Wilf trusted him with her life, his precious granddaughter, and the Doctor has failed him, let him down and lost Donna in the worst possible way. He can’t possibly tell them that she lay there in his arms in pain, bleeding and bleeding until her body just couldn’t take anymore? He can and will tell them how brave she was though, that she refused to give up without a fight and never lost that wonderful spirit that makes her- made her- Donna.
Selfishly, he wonders how he’ll cope without her, who will tell him off, push him to do the right thing when he’s wavering, make him talk when all he wants to do is brood, make him laugh with such complete ease and hold his hand exactly when he needs it. His hearts begin to ache with the realisation that he’ll never hug her again and he is startled when he suddenly becomes aware of someone stepping in front of him, placing firm hands on his shoulders, trying to get his attention.
Reluctantly he breaks out of the bubble he seems to have retreated into and he sees Martha, another human whose life he almost ruined but who at least got out of it alive. He realises then that he had no idea she was still talking, had barely even acknowledged she was still there, heard nothing more after “we lost her…” until she forces him to look at her again and continues,
“I have to tell you it didn’t look good for a while. We lost her but we got her heart started again and she’s hanging on in there, she’s fighting,” Martha smiles faintly at him, “And she’s obviously not planning on going anywhere just yet.”
He can’t quite believe what he’s hearing and can’t seem to speak, instead just sits staring at Martha, who takes her hands from his shoulders and sits down again beside him,
“She’s alive, Doctor and she’s breathing on her own which is a good sign, really good.”
For the first time in what seems like forever, he feels his hearts lift and he dares a tentative smile back at Martha. Donna’s alive, she’s alive and he can’t wait to see her, to see with his own eyes that she’s breathing, that her heart is beating again. He jumps abruptly up from the seat, energised by the very comprehension that he hasn’t lost her, that she may actually be ok,
“I need to see her. Can I see her?”
“She’s being taken upstairs so as soon as they have her settled up there you can see her. For now though, I want you to go and wash your hands and face, clean yourself up then come back here and I’ll find out if you can see her. Ok?”
Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t have the energy to argue with her. Besides, she’s right, he may have replaced his shirt but Donna’s blood is still all over his hands and smeared across his face and the last thing he wants is to have to be reminded of what a close call this was. He nods and turns to head towards the bathrooms, stopping and turning back when he hears Martha’s voice behind him,
“Oh, nice t-shirt, by the way.”
He looks down at his chest, the first hint of a genuine grin ghosting across his face as he turns away and heads down the hall.
#
Stopping outside Donna’s room, Martha turns to the Doctor,
“Listen, before we go in and because I know how impatient you are,” she smiles and he doesn’t try to disagree with her, “She isn’t awake and there’s a good chance, given everything she’s been through, that she could be out for a while yet. Like I told you, she’s breathing for herself but she is on a monitor so that we can keep an eye on her vitals. We’ve also got her on a good bit of pain relief intravenously so when she does wake up, she’s probably going to be a bit groggy.”
He nods, desperate to just get in there and see her. Martha opens the door and steps in ahead of him and he stops in his tracks as soon as he sees Donna, lying so still and so quiet, the only sound in the room the rhythmic beeping of the monitor telling them everything’s ok. She’s still terribly pale but her skin has lost the worrying grey tone it had taken on earlier. He lets out a long, relieved breath and, as he does, he feels Martha touch his arm lightly.
“Go and sit down Doctor. Talk to her, let her know you’re here, that’s she’s ok.”
He moves towards the bed and sits down in the chair beside her, reaching tentatively for her hand and stroking her skin softly, closing his eyes in sheer and complete relief at the warmth he feels there.
When he opens his eyes again, Martha has gone, leaving the two of them alone. The Doctor doesn’t take his hand from Donna’s, just keeps hold of her, almost afraid to let go for a second in case he loses her, even though he knows how ridiculous that is.
“Donna…I don’t know if you can hear me, I hope you can. It’s me, by the way, the Doctor, but you probably got that already though, yeah. Blimey Donna, you scared me with this little stunt. You really should give a man some warning if you’re going to stop breathing like that, it’s only fair,“ he pauses because his voice appears to be failing him and he doesn’t want her waking up to find him unable to string a sentence together, “Seriously, I thought- well, I thought I’d lost you there a couple of times, I really did. I thought you-”
The Doctor stops because he’s not really sure what he’s trying to say and because, if she can hear him, she’s probably wondering what the hell he’s babbling on about anyway. Leaning forward, still not taking his hand from hers, he brushes the fingers of his other hand gently through her hair, shuddering slightly when he thinks of the last time he did this, in total panic, fearing he might have heard her voice for the last time.
“I’m sorry Donna, I’m so sorry,” again, he closes his eyes for a few seconds, “This wasn’t supposed to happen, nothing like this was ever supposed to happen. When you’re better and out of here, we‘ll go somewhere really nice while you recuperate. Somewhere warm and I won‘t complain if you want us to just sit around and do nothing for a while. Well, I won’t complain much. Then we‘ll get stuck into that list, I promise.”
He smiles at her and suddenly realises he’s exhausted, it feels like everything has just hit him at once and what he wants more than anything is to be able to hug her but he knows he can’t, not yet, not while she’s hooked up to the monitor, still on the IV and with a shoulder in a sling that‘s going to take a bit of time to heal. God, he’s going to hug her so hard when he finally can though.
It’s only when Martha returns that the Doctor realises it’s been hours since she left and he has just been sitting here, holding Donna’s hand, talking to her and willing her to wake up. Martha puts a glass of water and a banana on the stand beside the bed,
“I know you’re going to say you’re not hungry but you need to at least eat something.”
The Doctor nods, “Thanks.”
Martha checks the monitor, takes Donna’s pulse and squeezes her hand gently before turning to fill in the chart at the end of the bed.
“I’m not even going to try and persuade you to get some rest but please at least stretch your legs from time to time,” she glances at Donna, “She’s not going anywhere and you know very well that she wouldn’t hold it against you for taking a break every now and then.”
He doesn’t look at Martha, doesn’t take his eyes from the bed, murmuring almost dismissively, “I’m not going anywhere until she’s awake. I walked away before, for just a couple of minutes and she…well, I’m not doing that again.”
Martha sighs, knowing better than to waste her time attempting to change his mind,
“Ok, well, I’ll be back in the morning. Try to at least rest a little. Please?”
“I’ll try,” he finally looks back at her, “Thank you Martha, for everything, thank you.”
She nods and rests her hand briefly on his shoulder, squeezing lightly, before closing the door softly behind her.
#
The first night, he doesn’t talk to her much at all, hoping that if he lets her sleep she’ll be ready to wake up in the morning. When Martha comes back, she insists that he goes and freshens up, takes a break for just a few moments. The Doctor reluctantly agrees but not before he has her absolute guarantee that she won’t leave Donna until he comes back and that if she so much as moves an inch, she has to fetch him.
The second night he leaves the blinds open thinking that maybe she needs to be able to see the stars, to feel like she’s back home on the TARDIS but the night passes and when the morning comes she still sleeps. He talks to her almost constantly for the rest of the third day about everything and anything, his cunning plan being that she’ll wake up even if it’s just for long enough to tell him to zip it.
The third night he leaves her for two minutes, slips briefly down the hall to splash some water on his face then practically sprints back when he hears an alarm and sees doctors, nurses running in the direction of Donna’s room only to slump to the floor in relief when they carry on past her door.
He refuses to go anywhere after that, tells Martha that the only way he’ll leave the room before Donna wakes up is if someone drags him out by the hair and that he knows she wouldn’t dare mess with his hair. So, Martha stops commenting and just brings him a silent supply of water, bananas and sandwiches which he only picks at but thanks her for anyway.
Several times he thinks he feels Donna’s fingers fluttering beneath his own, trying to grasp something but he doesn’t raise his hopes too high, very aware that it may just be his own wishful thinking. He does allow himself to squeeze her hand a little tighter though just in case, so that she absolutely knows for certain he’s there if that’s what she’s questioning at all.
On the fifth morning, the Doctor is just taking a sip of water when he definitely feels her hand move, without a doubt this time and he almost drops the glass. He gently turns her hand over to that he can entwine his fingers with hers and when she curls her own fingers around his in response he feels tears spring to his eyes.
“Donna, can you hear me? If you can hear me, open your eyes, please.”
The next few seconds feel like hours as he refuses to take his eyes off her, still squeezing her hand, half expecting her to wake up and shout at him for trying to break her fingers.
A faint frown wrinkles Donna’s brow and the tip of her tongue peeks out to moisten the lips he’s been carefully covering with lip balm every morning. The Doctor realises then that he’s holding his breath so he lets out a small sigh and, as he does, he sees her eyes open slowly and she blinks like someone coming out of a dark building into blinding sunshine.
It doesn’t happen immediately but eventually she focuses and settles her gaze on him, the two pools of determined blue that he’s missed so much. He feels a smile spread slowly across his face at the same time he feels a tear sneaking from his eye and rolling quietly down his face. He supposes he should probably wipe it away, try not to fall to pieces completely but decides it doesn’t matter because Donna’s awake and that is what matters.
She licks her lips again and tugs lightly on his hand. He thinks she wants to say something so he leans closer to her. She untangles their fingers and reaches her hand up to his face, her thumb sliding gently across his face to wipe away the tears before she whispers, her voice croaky and so faint he can only just hear her, “No crying Spaceman, I’m alright.”
Relieved, the Doctor pulls her hand back from his cheek and places a soft kiss to her palm, only now daring to believe that she just might be alright, that they both might be.