katherine_b: (DW - Donna crying)
katherine_b ([personal profile] katherine_b) wrote2009-05-28 06:48 am

DW Fic - Friends or Strangers Part I Chapter 6

Title: Friends or Strangers 6/12
Author: [livejournal.com profile] 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 V

The familiar ache of loneliness is there when Donna wakes the next morning from a fitful sleep, but it’s worse than usual because this time she knows the reason.

Her anger had evaporated during the walk home after last night’s terrible events, but Donna has a different price to pay in the headache that starts as soon as she opens her eyes, as well as the large pile of soggy tissues she sees scattered in and around the rubbish bin.

For a moment, she considers calling in sick, but she doesn’t want to spend the day in her room, thinking about – regretting – what she did and said.

Besides, there’s a tiny, faint hope that she’ll find John waiting for her in the park, that he’ll have forgiven her already and be waiting for her apologies.

When he isn’t, she feels as if something inside her has broken. She drops onto the bench opposite his apartment and stares up at the windows he’s told her belong to his rooms.

Probably – definitely – the best friend she’s ever had, and she’s driven him away because she can’t bear the thought of being wrong.

Donna rests her aching head on her hands, her elbows propped on her knees, and stares at the windows of John’s apartment.

For almost half an hour, she waits there, watching intently for any sign of movement in the apartment. The only thing that makes her change position is her phone ringing in her pocket.

“No,” she tells the person on the other end, “I won’t be in today.”

“You don’t sound too well,” her colleague says sympathetically. “Take it easy, Donna. See you tomorrow.”

Ending the call, Donna drops the phone back into her pocket and is about to resume her former position on the bench when she realises that her hands are freezing and she hasn’t brought her gloves.

She’s not about to trail home again and have to listen to one of her mother’s lectures about how she’s lucky to have a job in the current economic climate when better and more qualified people are losing theirs every day.

Instead she heads for a coffee shop and gets a take-away cup of tea that has the dual benefit of making her feel more awake and warming her hands as she goes back to her bench.

Another hour passes, and Donna hasn’t seen any movement through the flimsy curtains on the windows of John’s apartment. The remains of the tea have long since gone cold.

And when lunchtime comes and the park gradually fills with people in business suits and bags, Donna realises that she’s probably waiting in vain. It’s only now that she realises how cold she is, but it’s not just because of the light, chilly wind and the lack of gloves. There’s a coldness inside her that she knows comes from what happened last night.

By the time the sun is setting, Donna is shivering and tired and on the verge of tears. She doesn’t just want to talk to John – she wants to see his expression, to read his feelings in his eyes and on his face. But it’s becoming increasingly obvious that he’s not going to appear, and she can’t wait here forever.

She stands on the corner for a moment, her eyes still fixed on the windows of John’s apartment, before fishing the mobile phone out of her pocket. His number is already programmed into it, although she’s never actually rung him before. She presses the button with shaking hands.

It rings several times and she pictures him standing with the phone in his hand, staring at her name on the screen, fighting within himself as to whether or not to answer.

Her heart leaps as she finally hears the call connect. There’s a pause and she wonders if she’s on his voicemail. However, the first word assures her she’s not.

“Donna.”

His voice is muted, expectant, perhaps wondering why she’s calling after what she said last night.

“I’m sorry, John,” she says, and means it. “So sorry.”

There’s a deep sigh from the other end. “I didn’t expect that from you, Donna.”

Oh God, that makes her feel even worse. She wishes that he would react the way her mother does, with screaming and negative comments. She’s used to that. But his disappointment is almost too much to bear and she can feel her eyes filling with tears.

“I want to see you,” she begs. “Please, John!”

“What, so I can get screamed at again?” She can hear the sound of echoing footsteps on metal, as if he’s pacing a massive room. “What makes you think I want to go through that all over again, Donna?”

“Please!” She can hear the urgency in her tones. “I promise – no yelling.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

The corner of Donna’s mouth curls into the tiniest half-smile, even as tears begin to trickle down her cheeks, because really, this man knows her ridiculously well.

“I just – I need to see you, John. Please.”

There’s a long moment of silence on the other end, and Donna’s readying herself for an abrupt refusal and the sound of the dial tone in her ear, when he sighs, and she can hear the pain in that long, soft sound. She unsuccessfully attempts to stifle a sniff and wipes viciously at her eyes with the palm of her other hand.

“All right,” he agrees, and she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Our usual café. Half an hour. Yes?”

“Yes,” she says fervently, turning in that direction immediately. “Absolutely yes. And, John – thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” And there’s a smile in his voice that makes her smile in return, even as she hears the dial tone.

Donna hangs up the phone and realises that her hands are shaking. She hadn’t realised until the moment when she thought he was going to refuse to see her how much she dreaded the thought of that happening.

The café is only a short distance away, across the park where she’s walked with John so many times, so she drops back onto the bench to compose herself. A strong breeze sweeps through the park, making the piles of fallen red and golden leaves fly into the air. Donna pulls her jacket closer around her to ward off the cold wind and wipes the traces of tears from her cheeks, swallowing the lump in her throat.

As soon as she’s sure she isn’t about to burst into tears again, she gets up and heads over the leaf-covered grass to the brightly lit building on the far side of the park. It’s busier than she would have expected considering the time, but she’s able to find a seat at a booth in the far corner of the room.

It’s only as she’s getting out a tissue to blow her nose that she remembers this is the same seat she sat in when she and John had their date-that-wasn’t-a-date, when they went to dinner and the movies for the first time. She could never have imagined how quickly it would become a settled thing – her mother doesn’t even bother to wait up for her to come home anymore – nor how much she’s come to rely on it.

Not until now, when she realises how close she’s come to not having it happen anymore.

Donna wipes her eyes again, wondering when she became such an emotional wreck.

“Had a row with that mother of yours again?” the waitress asks as she bustles over with a glass of water.

Donna can’t help laughing at that as she shakes her head. “That wouldn’t turn me into a gibbering mess.”

“Then it’s with that boyfriend of yours, hmm?”

“Oh, we’re not a couple,” Donna insists quickly. “But, yes, him.”

“You let that hot temper of yours get the better of you?”

Donna nods miserably, sniffing again.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry.” The waitress places a gentle hand on Donna’s shoulder. “He’s one of the most understanding blokes I’ve seen in a long time, and he’s crazy about you. You ought to snap him up before someone else gets there first.”

She winks and then bustles off to accept another customer’s payment. Donna just has the chance to sip her water when the door opens and her eye is caught by the familiar brown duster as John enters the café.

He scans the room, finally seeing her in the far corner, and as she sees the faint smile pull at the corners of his mouth, she wonders if he’s remembering the same day that she was when she first sat down.

However his expression shows no trace of the smile when he takes the seat opposite her. In fact, she’s never seen him as grim as he is at that moment and it makes her feel anxious, almost afraid. Not because he’d hurt her – she knows that would never happen – but because there’s something all too familiar about the firm set of his mouth and the way his eyes glitter.

And she hates anything that reminds her of last night.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, before he can speak. “I really am. For the way I spoke to you.”

He nods slightly, sitting back against the padded bench. “I accept your apology, but you’re not taking any of it back, are you? You still believe you were right.”

She sighs in relief at his first words, but can only nod at the remains of his sentence. “I’ve never seen anything that would make me change my mind,” she admits. “I can only believe what I see in front of me.”

He smiles. “Sometimes, Donna, it’s worth believing in things even without physical proof.” He tilts his head slightly to one side, the iciness gone completely from his eyes, which are warm. “Some of the best things you’ll ever find in life can’t be seen or held.” He taps his chest over his heart. “They can only be felt – trusted – in here.”

“Would you like to hear about the specials?” the waitress interrupts at this point, and John looks up at her with a smile.

“I think we would, yes.” He glances at Donna, a questioning look in his eyes. “Yes?”

“Yes,” she agrees thankfully. “Absolutely.”

* * *
Teaser for the next part

‘I don’t like to feel that I’m telling you off, Donna. You don’t deserve that.’

[identity profile] tkel-paris.livejournal.com 2011-08-19 03:54 am (UTC)(link)
Reading this makes me eager to re-read the sections showing the Doctor's perspective. This definitely had to happen, too. And I can only imagine how much restraint it took to keep himself collected enough to measure his words and actions...

[identity profile] katherine-b.livejournal.com 2011-08-20 06:19 am (UTC)(link)
I definitely think this would have been harder for the Doctor than for Donna, even with all of the emotion that she was feeling.