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Title: Friends or Strangers Part II – 1/12
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katherine_b
Rating: PG
Characters: Donna, 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: The Doctor is feeling lonely.
A/N: This is a companion piece to Friends or Strangers Part I. I strongly advise you to refresh your memories of that half of the story or this won't make much sense.
Prologue
The Doctor waves off Christina in the flying bus before going back into the TARDIS and closing the door.
“Hello, old girl,” he says affectionately as he runs a hand along the console. “Did you miss me then?”
He grins as he comes around the monitor, but that fades to a frown as he sees that a set of co-ordinates is already set into the machine.
“What are you up to?” he asks idly. “This is – what, only a couple of miles away? In – where is this?” He stares for a moment before slamming his hand on the button that clears the numbers away. “No! We’re not going to Chiswick! How many times do I have to say that?”
He blinks and then frowns as the numbers flash up again. His moody ship has been doing this ever since they left Donna behind, but he can’t help thinking how very convenient it was that, when she was accidentally released into space, she happened to land in London, not so very far from Chiswick itself.
“Trying to tell me something, are you?” he snaps sarcastically. “Hoping I won’t notice you mucking me about like this? What do you want?”
But he realises an instant later that it’s not what the TARDIS wants. It’s actually what he wants. That the presence of Donna Noble during times like what he’s just been through is what he misses most. The feeling of her hand in his and the knowledge that she understood him so well. Christina had been an amusing distraction from the dangers of San Helios, but it had been a case of the old catchphrase of all style and no substance. That substance that Donna Noble represented was what he longed for.
He leans against the console, a sad smile on his face and he imagines her response if he said those words to her.
‘Substance, eh? Is that another way of saying I’m fat?’
The words are so clear that he catches himself looking around for her and he feels a wave of disappointment wash over him as he realises that it was all in his head.
His hand drops down onto the red button that sends the TARDIS into the vortex and he presses it without thinking, forgetting his destination until the ship jolts sideways and he’s flung against the jumpseat.
The TARDIS materialises before he can stop her and he shrugs as he heads for the door. At least he can see Donna, even if she won’t know who he is. Maybe that will ease his longing for her.
But when he opens the doors, he realises he’s not at Donna’s house but instead up on a grassy hill. The small wooden hut is all too familiar and he thanks the TARDIS mentally because if he can’t talk to Donna, Wilf is the next best thing.
“Doctor!” that man exclaims, leaping up from the ground in front of the telescope with surprising agility. “Goodness! What are you doing here? Take a seat. Would you like something to drink?”
“Oh, you know, I was in the neighbourhood.” The Doctor sits on the rug and then looks up at the overcast sky. “It’s not the best night for stargazing. Too many clouds.”
“Well, gets me out of the house,” Wilf admits. “I know my daughter prefers it when I’m not always underfoot.”
“And,” the Doctor continues to stare at the sky, “Donna?”
“Oh, she has her moments.”
The tone of his voice draws the Doctor’s eyes to Wilf’s face. Misery and disappointment are clear in his expression and the deeper lines around his mouth.
“How is she?” the Doctor can’t help asking.
“Lost.” There’s sadness in his tones. “Always looking, but never knowing what it is she’s trying to find. She’s not the same girl, Doctor. Not the same girl at all.”
There’s a long, painful silence. The Doctor can’t bring himself to apologise because he knows that those empty, useless words are not what Wilf wants to hear.
“So, what have you been up to?” Wilf asks in the end, forced cheerfulness in his voice.
“Oh, this and that,” he says vaguely. “Nothing much.”
“Nothing to do with flying buses, I suppose?” comes the reply with a knowing smirk.
The Doctor grins. “Just came from there actually. When was it?”
“Last night. Heard it on the news this morning.” He arches an eyebrow, the humour gone from his face as he prods at a small fire burning in a brazier next to them. “What did you do, Doctor?”
“It wasn’t me at all,” the Doctor protests, holding out his hands to the warmth – he’s felt colder than usual ever since leaving San Helios, and particularly since they began to talk about Donna. “I just got caught up in it, that’s all.”
“Well, you nearly had company.” Wilf’s brow creases in concern and his tone is grim, the smile gone so completely that the Doctor could almost believe it had never been there at all. “That’s Donna’s usual bus route when she goes to visit a friend of hers.”
The Doctor’s hands fall bonelessly into his lap and he stares in shock. “What?”
“I mean it.” Wilf sighs. “Every Thursday night for the past three months. Some colleague she’s got at work – Annie or Allison or some such name.”
“Angela?” the Doctor offers. “Angela Whittaker?”
“That’s the one!” Wilf nods. “Donna works at Angela’s office, and she’s been spending the evenings with Angela’s daughter. Tutoring her. English and History and Geography. Donna got into those when she came back, after you… Anyway, she was reading one of the books at work and Angela asked if she’d help out her daughter with some study she’s doing.”
“And,” the Doctor’s voice is choked, “why wasn’t she there yesterday?”
“Oh, she stayed back to finish a report. Planned to catch the next bus back, but of course, with the mess of the 200 disappearing, they cancelled them all and Sylvia had to drive over to bring Donna home. You can imagine the fuss Madame made about it, too.”
“Mmm, of course,” the Doctor agrees idly, not paying attention to this. “Wilf, this is important. How did Donna respond to the news of the bus this morning?”
“Laughed.” Wilf sighs deeply. “Said she wished she’d caught it because it must have been incredible to be on another planet.”
The Doctor’s breath catches and a painful lump in his throat forces him to swallow in order to maintain his composure. He doesn’t ask how Wilf replied to Donna’s offhand remark, doesn’t muse on how difficult it must have been to keep from telling her that she had been on another planet, had walked on alien soil and had done miraculous things.
He knows that Wilf’s heart would have been breaking then as much as the Doctor’s hearts are now.
He doesn’t stay for long after that and Wilf doesn’t press him. But the TARDIS seems even more empty than usual when the Doctor finally sends her into the vortex.
“She doesn’t remember,” he reminds himself, his voice ringing loudly through the empty console room. “She can’t remember. It’s all just – wishful thinking.”
He drops onto the jumpseat and stares unseeingly at images of the vortex flashing past on the scanner.
“But what if something happens again?” he mumbles under his breath. “All those tiny pieces you couldn’t take away – what if she tries to make sense of them?”
He groans and sinks his face into his hands. In his mind flash images from his recent nightmares – Donna lying cold and dead on an autopsy table, a timber coffin covered with flowers, and fresh dirt on a newly filled-in grave.
He’d always known that the Earth wouldn’t stay free from alien invasion for long, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon – and he certainly wouldn’t have believed that Donna would come so close to being caught up in it again.
He can’t help wondering if Dalek Caan’s meddling with the timelines is still managing to draw him and Donna together, even now that it’s so dangerous for her to be with the Doctor.
And if it keeps happening…
He stops that train of thought before it can become anything concrete, because he knows it will only bring him back to those nightmarish visions.
And yet, even as he enters random co-ordinates into the TARDIS and heads off for some unknown destination, he can’t get away from the fear of what might happen, lying like a heavy ball in the pit of his stomach.
* * *
Teaser for the next part
He doesn’t mean a thing to Donna Noble, and that’s the way it should stay.
Author:
katherine_b Rating: PG
Characters: Donna, 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: The Doctor is feeling lonely.
A/N: This is a companion piece to Friends or Strangers Part I. I strongly advise you to refresh your memories of that half of the story or this won't make much sense.
Prologue
The Doctor waves off Christina in the flying bus before going back into the TARDIS and closing the door.
“Hello, old girl,” he says affectionately as he runs a hand along the console. “Did you miss me then?”
He grins as he comes around the monitor, but that fades to a frown as he sees that a set of co-ordinates is already set into the machine.
“What are you up to?” he asks idly. “This is – what, only a couple of miles away? In – where is this?” He stares for a moment before slamming his hand on the button that clears the numbers away. “No! We’re not going to Chiswick! How many times do I have to say that?”
He blinks and then frowns as the numbers flash up again. His moody ship has been doing this ever since they left Donna behind, but he can’t help thinking how very convenient it was that, when she was accidentally released into space, she happened to land in London, not so very far from Chiswick itself.
“Trying to tell me something, are you?” he snaps sarcastically. “Hoping I won’t notice you mucking me about like this? What do you want?”
But he realises an instant later that it’s not what the TARDIS wants. It’s actually what he wants. That the presence of Donna Noble during times like what he’s just been through is what he misses most. The feeling of her hand in his and the knowledge that she understood him so well. Christina had been an amusing distraction from the dangers of San Helios, but it had been a case of the old catchphrase of all style and no substance. That substance that Donna Noble represented was what he longed for.
He leans against the console, a sad smile on his face and he imagines her response if he said those words to her.
‘Substance, eh? Is that another way of saying I’m fat?’
The words are so clear that he catches himself looking around for her and he feels a wave of disappointment wash over him as he realises that it was all in his head.
His hand drops down onto the red button that sends the TARDIS into the vortex and he presses it without thinking, forgetting his destination until the ship jolts sideways and he’s flung against the jumpseat.
The TARDIS materialises before he can stop her and he shrugs as he heads for the door. At least he can see Donna, even if she won’t know who he is. Maybe that will ease his longing for her.
But when he opens the doors, he realises he’s not at Donna’s house but instead up on a grassy hill. The small wooden hut is all too familiar and he thanks the TARDIS mentally because if he can’t talk to Donna, Wilf is the next best thing.
“Doctor!” that man exclaims, leaping up from the ground in front of the telescope with surprising agility. “Goodness! What are you doing here? Take a seat. Would you like something to drink?”
“Oh, you know, I was in the neighbourhood.” The Doctor sits on the rug and then looks up at the overcast sky. “It’s not the best night for stargazing. Too many clouds.”
“Well, gets me out of the house,” Wilf admits. “I know my daughter prefers it when I’m not always underfoot.”
“And,” the Doctor continues to stare at the sky, “Donna?”
“Oh, she has her moments.”
The tone of his voice draws the Doctor’s eyes to Wilf’s face. Misery and disappointment are clear in his expression and the deeper lines around his mouth.
“How is she?” the Doctor can’t help asking.
“Lost.” There’s sadness in his tones. “Always looking, but never knowing what it is she’s trying to find. She’s not the same girl, Doctor. Not the same girl at all.”
There’s a long, painful silence. The Doctor can’t bring himself to apologise because he knows that those empty, useless words are not what Wilf wants to hear.
“So, what have you been up to?” Wilf asks in the end, forced cheerfulness in his voice.
“Oh, this and that,” he says vaguely. “Nothing much.”
“Nothing to do with flying buses, I suppose?” comes the reply with a knowing smirk.
The Doctor grins. “Just came from there actually. When was it?”
“Last night. Heard it on the news this morning.” He arches an eyebrow, the humour gone from his face as he prods at a small fire burning in a brazier next to them. “What did you do, Doctor?”
“It wasn’t me at all,” the Doctor protests, holding out his hands to the warmth – he’s felt colder than usual ever since leaving San Helios, and particularly since they began to talk about Donna. “I just got caught up in it, that’s all.”
“Well, you nearly had company.” Wilf’s brow creases in concern and his tone is grim, the smile gone so completely that the Doctor could almost believe it had never been there at all. “That’s Donna’s usual bus route when she goes to visit a friend of hers.”
The Doctor’s hands fall bonelessly into his lap and he stares in shock. “What?”
“I mean it.” Wilf sighs. “Every Thursday night for the past three months. Some colleague she’s got at work – Annie or Allison or some such name.”
“Angela?” the Doctor offers. “Angela Whittaker?”
“That’s the one!” Wilf nods. “Donna works at Angela’s office, and she’s been spending the evenings with Angela’s daughter. Tutoring her. English and History and Geography. Donna got into those when she came back, after you… Anyway, she was reading one of the books at work and Angela asked if she’d help out her daughter with some study she’s doing.”
“And,” the Doctor’s voice is choked, “why wasn’t she there yesterday?”
“Oh, she stayed back to finish a report. Planned to catch the next bus back, but of course, with the mess of the 200 disappearing, they cancelled them all and Sylvia had to drive over to bring Donna home. You can imagine the fuss Madame made about it, too.”
“Mmm, of course,” the Doctor agrees idly, not paying attention to this. “Wilf, this is important. How did Donna respond to the news of the bus this morning?”
“Laughed.” Wilf sighs deeply. “Said she wished she’d caught it because it must have been incredible to be on another planet.”
The Doctor’s breath catches and a painful lump in his throat forces him to swallow in order to maintain his composure. He doesn’t ask how Wilf replied to Donna’s offhand remark, doesn’t muse on how difficult it must have been to keep from telling her that she had been on another planet, had walked on alien soil and had done miraculous things.
He knows that Wilf’s heart would have been breaking then as much as the Doctor’s hearts are now.
He doesn’t stay for long after that and Wilf doesn’t press him. But the TARDIS seems even more empty than usual when the Doctor finally sends her into the vortex.
“She doesn’t remember,” he reminds himself, his voice ringing loudly through the empty console room. “She can’t remember. It’s all just – wishful thinking.”
He drops onto the jumpseat and stares unseeingly at images of the vortex flashing past on the scanner.
“But what if something happens again?” he mumbles under his breath. “All those tiny pieces you couldn’t take away – what if she tries to make sense of them?”
He groans and sinks his face into his hands. In his mind flash images from his recent nightmares – Donna lying cold and dead on an autopsy table, a timber coffin covered with flowers, and fresh dirt on a newly filled-in grave.
He’d always known that the Earth wouldn’t stay free from alien invasion for long, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon – and he certainly wouldn’t have believed that Donna would come so close to being caught up in it again.
He can’t help wondering if Dalek Caan’s meddling with the timelines is still managing to draw him and Donna together, even now that it’s so dangerous for her to be with the Doctor.
And if it keeps happening…
He stops that train of thought before it can become anything concrete, because he knows it will only bring him back to those nightmarish visions.
And yet, even as he enters random co-ordinates into the TARDIS and heads off for some unknown destination, he can’t get away from the fear of what might happen, lying like a heavy ball in the pit of his stomach.
Teaser for the next part
He doesn’t mean a thing to Donna Noble, and that’s the way it should stay.
lonely
(no subject)
Poor Wilf... He must be worried out of his mind...!
(no subject)