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Title: Friends or Strangers 2/12
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katherine_b
Rating: PG
Characters: Donna and the Doctor (John Smith)
Disclaimer: If the Doctor and Donna were really mine, this story wouldn’t even need to exist!
Spoilers: Up to and including Planet of the Dead
Summary: Donna’s got a new friend…
Chapter I
The world is beautiful, if strange, with its brilliant orange sky and the trees rustling in the light breeze, their silver leaves spinning as she walks towards a city of spires and gleaming domes.
And yet, despite the incredible beauty of this place, she’s not happy because she’s alone. She strains her ears and hears a melancholy tune that echoes in her mind, so sad that tears run down her face. She reaches out her hands to the space around her, but they remain empty, and there’s a bitter pang of loneliness that makes her chest ache.
The alarm clock jangles viciously in her ears and the remnants of the dream have fled before she can grasp the images that were so vivid in her mind a moment earlier. But what lingers is an echo of that pain in her chest, such dreadful loneliness that it makes her want to cry.
She’s dwelling on it, wondering what has made her feel that way, while she showers and gets ready for work. In the kitchen, she stares into the fridge before deciding she’s not in the mood for breakfast and satisfies herself with grabbing some fruit out of the bowl as she heads for the door.
“Oho, trying to avoid me by heading off early,” a voice remarks from beside a nearby tree as she cuts through the park, and Donna can’t quite help the smile that appears on her face as she turns to find John sitting on a bench under one of the trees. “I’m onto you, Noble,” he continues as he gets up.
“Curses, foiled again,” she says mildly. “What are you doing up so early in any case, Smith?”
John smiles and takes her hand in that strange way that always makes a tingle run up her spine, as if her body is subconsciously preparing itself for some emergency. She dismisses the thought, which she’s had before and for which she knows there is no answer, and arches an eyebrow, demanding an answer.
“Well?”
“I thought I’d make sure you were all right after your little soaking last night,” he says lightly enough, but his eyes are scanning her face as if checking for any sign of impending illness.
“Soppy git,” she tells him, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze as they begin to walk through the park in the direction of Donna’s office. “Maybe I would be in bed in the middle of a germy cloud, sneezing my head off, at this very moment, if it hadn’t been for a very considerate gentleman who held his umbrella over me and probably got well soaked for his troubles.”
He chuckles. “Immune to the cold, that’s me,” he tells her cheerfully, and she can see that the suggestion of concern has vanished from his eyes.
“Besides,” she goes on, poking him gently in the ribs, “if I was in bed with a head full of revolting things, coughing my lungs up every few minutes, I’d hardly be going to the office, would I now? So you wouldn’t know I was sick!”
“Ah, that’s the clever bit,” he retorts with a cheeky grin. “You see, I know what time you have to be at your desk, so if you’d failed to appear, I was going to knock on your door with chicken soup and hot water bottles.”
“And you know it would be my mother who’d answer the door,” she says smartly, seeing his face fall.
“Maybe I’d even be brave enough to face her,” he admits. “Still, as you look to be in the pink of perfect health, that's all a bit hypothetical, isn't it? Although...”
His voice dies away and she looks up at him curiously. “'Although' what?”
“Well, if you'll forgive me for saying so, you don't quite look as chirpy as you did last night. You didn't have an argument with your mother or something, did you?”
She smiles. “No, by some miracle, no argument.”
“What is it then?”
Her smile fades a little as the feelings she had had earlier that morning echo in her memory. For a moment she walks in silence before taking a firmer hold of John's hand. He looks down at her, his eyes full of concern, but she speaks before he can.
“Have you ever been lonely, John?”
A sigh escapes his mouth. “Yes,” he admits softly, in a voice that is so sad it almost makes her want to cry. “Often,” he adds, before tightening his hold on her hand. “But not since meeting you.”
“Flatterer,” she scolds. “I was being serious.”
“So was I.” He stops and turns her face her. “How long have you felt like this?”
“I don't know exactly,” she's forced to admit. “I mean, definitely at certain times over the past few months, but before that – I don't know.”
“Because of the memory loss,” John finishes for her, and she nods miserably.
“I'm so sorry, Donna,” he says, his arm sliding around her shoulders in the same sort of gentle hug he always provides when they get onto this subject.
“What would I do without you, John?” she asks hypothetically, and he gives her a sad smile.
“Let's hope you never have to find out,” he replies. “But I'll tell you what – why don’t we go out for dinner tonight? Maybe catch a movie or something? That should banish the loneliness.”
“What, like a date?” she asks, surprised because this is the first time they've actually arranged a meeting.
“Well, if the idea of it being a 'date' is uncomfortable for you, then no, it's just two friends spending time together.”
The more she thinks about the idea, the better she likes it, and as they begin to walk again, this time approaching the building where Donna's current work is located, she nods.
“It's a date,” she agrees. “Well, not a date,” she goes on quickly. “Oh, you know what I mean. Oh, get off!”
He chuckles. “I'll meet you here at six. See you later.”
And he brushes a light kiss to her cheek before heading off down the street.
* * *
Donna groans inwardly as she hears her mother’s slippers on the kitchen tiles, even as she closes the door and drops her keys into her bag, a smile lingering on her face.
“And what time is this?”
“How old am I?” she snaps as she drops her bag on the hall table and heads into the house.
“Not old enough to use a phone,” Sylvia retorts, coming out of the kitchen with a mug of tea in her hand. “Really, Donna, you could have called! Where have you been anyway?”
“If you must know, I went to see a film.” Donna drops into a chair at the table. “No law against that, is there?”
“The polite thing would have been to let me know you’d be late so I didn’t sit up waiting for you.”
“Well, no one said you had to,” Donna snaps back. “I mean, really, what’s the worst that could happen? Some bloke runs up and shags me against the wall, I suppose. You’ve always said you wanted grandchildren!”
“Now, that’s uncalled for!” Sylvia glares at her. “No need for you to be vulgar, young lady!” She tips the last of her tea down the sink and rinses the mug, showing her anger in the way she slams the ceramic object onto the draining board. “You could show a little appreciation for the concern people show for you, my girl!”
Donna sighs, knowing that Sylvia is right, but the happy memories she has of her lovely evening with John are being well and truly tarnished by this conversation.
“Well, what did you think would happen to me?” she asks, attempting to sound reasonable. “I mean, really, Mum, I’m old enough to look after myself.”
“You could be, oh, I don’t know, abducted by aliens or something!” Sylvia leans against the sink, an anxious look on her face. “Donna, it’s not that long since you lost your memory. Why shouldn’t I worry about you?”
“Yeah, all right, you can have that one,” Donna agrees reluctantly. “But really, Mum, aliens? Bit unoriginal, isn’t it? Or is that why you send Gramps up the hill ever night – to keep an eye out for them?”
Sylvia gives a pained half-smile that is all she can manage when she’s in a testy mood. “Oh, he’s always saying he’s looking for a little blue box. Personally, I wish he’d find it! Then we might see him occasionally! Right then, I’m going to bed. Don’t be too late, Donna. You’ve got work in the morning.”
“Yeah, all right.”
Donna waits until her mother leaves the room and then goes hunting for a packet of chocolate biscuits, munching on one as she heads for bed.
* * *
Teaser for the next part
Something about what her mother said – the mention of the ‘little blue box’ – has struck a chord.
Author:
katherine_b Rating: PG
Characters: Donna and the Doctor (John Smith)
Disclaimer: If the Doctor and Donna were really mine, this story wouldn’t even need to exist!
Spoilers: Up to and including Planet of the Dead
Summary: Donna’s got a new friend…
Chapter I
The world is beautiful, if strange, with its brilliant orange sky and the trees rustling in the light breeze, their silver leaves spinning as she walks towards a city of spires and gleaming domes.
And yet, despite the incredible beauty of this place, she’s not happy because she’s alone. She strains her ears and hears a melancholy tune that echoes in her mind, so sad that tears run down her face. She reaches out her hands to the space around her, but they remain empty, and there’s a bitter pang of loneliness that makes her chest ache.
The alarm clock jangles viciously in her ears and the remnants of the dream have fled before she can grasp the images that were so vivid in her mind a moment earlier. But what lingers is an echo of that pain in her chest, such dreadful loneliness that it makes her want to cry.
She’s dwelling on it, wondering what has made her feel that way, while she showers and gets ready for work. In the kitchen, she stares into the fridge before deciding she’s not in the mood for breakfast and satisfies herself with grabbing some fruit out of the bowl as she heads for the door.
“Oho, trying to avoid me by heading off early,” a voice remarks from beside a nearby tree as she cuts through the park, and Donna can’t quite help the smile that appears on her face as she turns to find John sitting on a bench under one of the trees. “I’m onto you, Noble,” he continues as he gets up.
“Curses, foiled again,” she says mildly. “What are you doing up so early in any case, Smith?”
John smiles and takes her hand in that strange way that always makes a tingle run up her spine, as if her body is subconsciously preparing itself for some emergency. She dismisses the thought, which she’s had before and for which she knows there is no answer, and arches an eyebrow, demanding an answer.
“Well?”
“I thought I’d make sure you were all right after your little soaking last night,” he says lightly enough, but his eyes are scanning her face as if checking for any sign of impending illness.
“Soppy git,” she tells him, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze as they begin to walk through the park in the direction of Donna’s office. “Maybe I would be in bed in the middle of a germy cloud, sneezing my head off, at this very moment, if it hadn’t been for a very considerate gentleman who held his umbrella over me and probably got well soaked for his troubles.”
He chuckles. “Immune to the cold, that’s me,” he tells her cheerfully, and she can see that the suggestion of concern has vanished from his eyes.
“Besides,” she goes on, poking him gently in the ribs, “if I was in bed with a head full of revolting things, coughing my lungs up every few minutes, I’d hardly be going to the office, would I now? So you wouldn’t know I was sick!”
“Ah, that’s the clever bit,” he retorts with a cheeky grin. “You see, I know what time you have to be at your desk, so if you’d failed to appear, I was going to knock on your door with chicken soup and hot water bottles.”
“And you know it would be my mother who’d answer the door,” she says smartly, seeing his face fall.
“Maybe I’d even be brave enough to face her,” he admits. “Still, as you look to be in the pink of perfect health, that's all a bit hypothetical, isn't it? Although...”
His voice dies away and she looks up at him curiously. “'Although' what?”
“Well, if you'll forgive me for saying so, you don't quite look as chirpy as you did last night. You didn't have an argument with your mother or something, did you?”
She smiles. “No, by some miracle, no argument.”
“What is it then?”
Her smile fades a little as the feelings she had had earlier that morning echo in her memory. For a moment she walks in silence before taking a firmer hold of John's hand. He looks down at her, his eyes full of concern, but she speaks before he can.
“Have you ever been lonely, John?”
A sigh escapes his mouth. “Yes,” he admits softly, in a voice that is so sad it almost makes her want to cry. “Often,” he adds, before tightening his hold on her hand. “But not since meeting you.”
“Flatterer,” she scolds. “I was being serious.”
“So was I.” He stops and turns her face her. “How long have you felt like this?”
“I don't know exactly,” she's forced to admit. “I mean, definitely at certain times over the past few months, but before that – I don't know.”
“Because of the memory loss,” John finishes for her, and she nods miserably.
“I'm so sorry, Donna,” he says, his arm sliding around her shoulders in the same sort of gentle hug he always provides when they get onto this subject.
“What would I do without you, John?” she asks hypothetically, and he gives her a sad smile.
“Let's hope you never have to find out,” he replies. “But I'll tell you what – why don’t we go out for dinner tonight? Maybe catch a movie or something? That should banish the loneliness.”
“What, like a date?” she asks, surprised because this is the first time they've actually arranged a meeting.
“Well, if the idea of it being a 'date' is uncomfortable for you, then no, it's just two friends spending time together.”
The more she thinks about the idea, the better she likes it, and as they begin to walk again, this time approaching the building where Donna's current work is located, she nods.
“It's a date,” she agrees. “Well, not a date,” she goes on quickly. “Oh, you know what I mean. Oh, get off!”
He chuckles. “I'll meet you here at six. See you later.”
And he brushes a light kiss to her cheek before heading off down the street.
Donna groans inwardly as she hears her mother’s slippers on the kitchen tiles, even as she closes the door and drops her keys into her bag, a smile lingering on her face.
“And what time is this?”
“How old am I?” she snaps as she drops her bag on the hall table and heads into the house.
“Not old enough to use a phone,” Sylvia retorts, coming out of the kitchen with a mug of tea in her hand. “Really, Donna, you could have called! Where have you been anyway?”
“If you must know, I went to see a film.” Donna drops into a chair at the table. “No law against that, is there?”
“The polite thing would have been to let me know you’d be late so I didn’t sit up waiting for you.”
“Well, no one said you had to,” Donna snaps back. “I mean, really, what’s the worst that could happen? Some bloke runs up and shags me against the wall, I suppose. You’ve always said you wanted grandchildren!”
“Now, that’s uncalled for!” Sylvia glares at her. “No need for you to be vulgar, young lady!” She tips the last of her tea down the sink and rinses the mug, showing her anger in the way she slams the ceramic object onto the draining board. “You could show a little appreciation for the concern people show for you, my girl!”
Donna sighs, knowing that Sylvia is right, but the happy memories she has of her lovely evening with John are being well and truly tarnished by this conversation.
“Well, what did you think would happen to me?” she asks, attempting to sound reasonable. “I mean, really, Mum, I’m old enough to look after myself.”
“You could be, oh, I don’t know, abducted by aliens or something!” Sylvia leans against the sink, an anxious look on her face. “Donna, it’s not that long since you lost your memory. Why shouldn’t I worry about you?”
“Yeah, all right, you can have that one,” Donna agrees reluctantly. “But really, Mum, aliens? Bit unoriginal, isn’t it? Or is that why you send Gramps up the hill ever night – to keep an eye out for them?”
Sylvia gives a pained half-smile that is all she can manage when she’s in a testy mood. “Oh, he’s always saying he’s looking for a little blue box. Personally, I wish he’d find it! Then we might see him occasionally! Right then, I’m going to bed. Don’t be too late, Donna. You’ve got work in the morning.”
“Yeah, all right.”
Donna waits until her mother leaves the room and then goes hunting for a packet of chocolate biscuits, munching on one as she heads for bed.
Teaser for the next part
Something about what her mother said – the mention of the ‘little blue box’ – has struck a chord.
lonely