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Title: Finding A Way Home – The Most Important Question Of All
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katherine_b
Rating: G
Summary: The problem with popping the question is finding the right moment.
Word Count: approx 2,000 words
Characters: Both Doctors and Donna
A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, Doctor/Donna fans!
“Well, that was an abject failure,” the man in blue announces as soon as the kitchen door closes behind Donna, who is going to have a shower and get dressed. The Doctor bites viciously into his last slice of jam-slathered toast while the other man replies.
“I had spotted that myself, yes,” the Time Lord agrees somewhat bitterly, swirling the remaining tea in his mug and drinking it, although the half-human Doctor can’t help thinking that it must have long since gone cold.
“So remind me again why you can’t just ask her when I’m naturally out of the way – say when I’m sleeping.”
“Because it won’t be special,” comes the sharp retort. “I can’t just go ‘Tea? One sugar? Oh, and while I’m on the subject, do you want to get married?’”
“I don’t suppose it’s quite the romantic proposal she’s dreamed of, no,” the man with one heart is forced to admit. “Still, it’s not like I’m not trying to get out of your way!”
“I know.” The other Doctor nods, acknowledging this. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
For a moment, there’s silence. The Doctor doesn’t bother trying to figure out what the man in brown is thinking, his own thoughts full of the frustrations of the past few days. His first plan to give the Time Lord a chance to propose was to fake an illness that would keep him away while the other two went off together, but Donna flatly refused to leave the TARDIS without him, so he’d had to make a rapid ‘recovery’ in order to get her to stop fussing over him.
Still, at least the other Doctor hadn’t been jealous of Donna’s attentions. Clearly the Time Lord had been reassured both by the conversation they had had after Victoria’s coronation ball and by whatever Donna had said to him afterwards.
Donna, too, seems much calmer these days. The half-human Doctor guessed that whatever had been said to her had been equally reassuring. However the fact that she wasn’t worrying about the Doctor’s feelings for her meant she had more attention to pay to other things – like being concerned when he ducked off during one of their trips in another attempt to give them time alone. Instead, while he was still within earshot, he could hear Donna expressing concern about his absence, meaning that she wasn’t about to pay attention to anything the Time Lord might have said and thus completely killing any romantic atmosphere.
His most recent tactic had been to leave the room whenever the other two had the chance to get together. He’d thought he was succeeding until, while they were having breakfast, Donna had demanded to know whether the two men had had an argument because it was the only explanation she could come up with for his behaviour. When they denied it, she had worried that she had done something to upset him. It had taken all of his powers of persuasion to convince her otherwise.
“The problem is,” the man flicks a piece of fluff off his blue sleeve, casting a teasing glance at the other Doctor, “the woman you want to marry is simply far too brilliant.”
“That’s not exactly modest considering she’s half you,” the Time Lord shoots back, although his eyes are dancing.
“Oh, no, my lack of modesty comes from you, not her.” He grins for a moment before coming more serious and offering a shrug. “I don’t know what else I can do. I just don’t think we’re going to be able to arrange something. All you can do is be ready and take advantage of the moment if one presents itself.”
“We’ll see.” The other man gets up and begins to stack the dirty plates. “And in the meantime, trust me, I’m not letting that box out of my sight.”
“Good.”
Putting the lids on the jars of jam and chocolate spread and then placing the cover over the butter, the half-human Doctor catches the cloth thrown to him by the Time Lord and wipes down the table. Within moments, the room is spotless and they head up to the console room.
“So where are we going this time?” Donna asks when she joins them a short time later.
“We’re going to find a butterfly,” the Time Lord announces, and a look of surprise appears on Donna’s face.
“A real butterfly, or some race that just looks like butterflies?” she demands.
“No, we’re not going to meet the Arcateenians.” He sets a destination into the scanner before looking up with a grin. “We should though, one day. You’d love them, Donna. They’re brilliant.”
“Today though?” the other Doctor prompts. “I presume you’ve got a particular butterfly in mind. We’re not just going to find a Small Tortoiseshell or something, are we?”
“No – well, not today.” He sends the TARDIS off on its way and grins as the other two take their places around the console. “Allons-y then, hey?”
They arrive soon afterwards and the man in the brown suit leads the way out of the TARDIS. They trio find themselves deep in what almost looks like a fairytale wood, with winding paths leading between trees. Dappled sunlight is managing to make its way through the thick canopy of branches and leaves and a light breeze is making the clusters of flowers that line the paths bob their petalled heads.
“So, this butterfly we’re hunting, what does it look like?” Donna asks practically as they step out onto the path.
“It’s mostly a creamy colour, almost yellow,” comes the ready reply, “but the edges have hints of purple.”
“Lovely.” Donna smiles. “Are we going to stick together then, or split up?”
The man in the blue suit is about to offer to go on his own when the Time Lord speaks first.
“Three paths and three of us,” he suggests, waving at the narrow areas of cleared ground of front of them. “Let’s take one each and see what we find.”
“Brilliant!” Without further prompting, she takes the path that leads away to the right, leaving the Doctors to take the others.
“Cream and purple?” the half-human man mutters in sarcastic tones before he heads off. “How very handy!”
“And you said I couldn’t arrange things,” the Time Lord murmurs significantly as Donna disappears between the trees.
“Don’t count your chickens,” he shoots back sotto voce, half tempted to ruin the Time Lord’s plans by following Donna, but he can’t quite bring himself to do it when the circumstances seems so favourable.
As he heads off down the left-hand path, the Doctor isn’t sure whether to bother searching for this non-existent butterfly or not. He’s tempted to head back to the TARDIS, make himself a cup of tea and try to find a book he hasn’t read more than ten or twelve times while he waits for the others to return.
On the other hand, the fresh breeze is lovely on his face, and even he has to admit that there are times when the TARDIS, huge as she is, can become a touch claustrophobic.
Finding himself a tree-branch at just the right height, he settles himself to wait for a while and enjoy being outside.
However he’s only just getting comfortable when he hears a yelp and detects a flash of pain on his internal radar.
It’s similar enough to the way he felt during the meta-crisis, when Donna was suffering, for him to understand that she’s the one who has been hurt.
Before he fully realises what he’s doing, he’s on his feet and making his way back along the path. The trees are too thick for him to attempt to cut through, and considering how much his path twisted and turned, he suspects Donna’s will have done the same thing, so finding a straight line to her could be next to impossible.
The next moment, however, he catches a glimpse of purple through the trees,
For an instant, he wonders if he’s about the find the butterfly whose existence he mocked so roundly before, but then he remembers that Donna is wearing her favourite purple jacket and realises he’s found the object of his search.
She’s not alone though.
The Time Lord is already on his knees beside her, his fingers gently probing her foot.
“I don’t think you’ve broken it,” he’s saying as the other Doctor finds a spot where he can hear as well as see what’s going on.
“I’ve already told you that,” Donna says in a mildly frustrated tone, but one which is full of affection for all that. “I don’t think I’ve even sprained it. It’s probably just strained.”
“We should get you back to the TARDIS to check.”
“Don’t be so daft,” she scolds, and then, as he’s fishing around in his pocket. “What are you doing now?”
“Strapping it.”
“Doctor, I rolled my ankle,” she says somewhat impatiently. “I didn’t fall down a cliff!”
“Still, we should…”
“No!” She glares at him. “Stop being so ridiculous! Anyone would think I was on my last legs from the way you’re carrying on.”
Almost sheepishly, the Time Lord returns the bandage to his pocket and then Donna reaches down to link her fingers with his.
“I’m sorry,” she says after a moment’s silence. “I know you’re trying to take care of me.”
“No, I’m sorry.” The Doctor reaches up to cup her cheek with his hand, stroking her temple with his thumb. “I just hate seeing you in pain, Donna. I wish…” His voice trails off for a moment before he continues. “I wish I could always be there to take care of you.”
“Me too,” she agrees, her voice lowering until it’s only just audible to the man in hiding.
There’s a period where he can’t hear anything, and the Doctor wonders if he might be missing the conversation he’s been trying to prompt by his absence for several days. He's about to back away and head for the TARDIS when a sound stops him short.
It's the Time Lord laughing.
“What’s wrong with you?” Donna demands, her eyes wide, staring at him as if he’s lost his mind.
“Just this.” He shakes his head a little. “Us. Me,” he corrects. “Donna, I’ve been trying to get you to myself for days, but now that we’re here, I can’t find the words I want for what I want to ask you.”
Donna’s face lights up with a grin. “Oh, is that what’s been wrong with the two of you, why the other Doctor keeps disappearing? I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe what he said over breakfast about nothing being wrong.”
“No, he knows what’s going on. He was helping – well,” the Time Lord adds, “trying to. But,” he smiles at her, “you kept asking about him and spoiling the moment.”
“Sorry.” She leans forward and kisses him before suddenly placing her hands on his chest and giving him a gentle push back.
“What?” he asks quickly, his concern obvious. “Donna, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” There’s a shy expression on her face as she looks up at him. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just – if you’re asking me what I think you are, could you do it properly?”
“Properly?” There’s a teasing tone in the Time Lord’s voice that makes the other Doctor grin, remembering the conversation they had about this moment. “You want a proper proposal? I never had you pegged as a romantic, Donna Noble.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” she retorts, although there’s no negativity or sarcasm in her voice.
“And maybe I do,” he tells her, sliding his hand into the pocket of his jacket.
For what seems like ages, he fishes around in the bigger-on-the-inside pocket, until the half-human Doctor can hardly hear it.
“Oh, come on,” he murmurs, feeling his single heart beating hard against his ribs as his hands grip the branch in front of him. “You can’t have lost it!”
At that moment, however, the other man pulls his hand free and the small black box is visible between his fingers. He moves around so that he’s in front of her and sinks onto one knee.
“Donna Noble,” he asks softly as he opens the box, “will you marry me?”
And although the man hidden behind the blue bushes can’t hear the response, not least because he suspects Donna is on the verge of the happiest tears she’s ever shed, it’s clear from the way the Time Lord takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto the fourth finger of her left hand that the answer was the one he had hoped to hear.
* * *
And in case anyone was wondering, Donna’s ring looks like this:
Some Time Alone
Author:
katherine_b Rating: G
Summary: The problem with popping the question is finding the right moment.
Word Count: approx 2,000 words
Characters: Both Doctors and Donna
A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, Doctor/Donna fans!
“Well, that was an abject failure,” the man in blue announces as soon as the kitchen door closes behind Donna, who is going to have a shower and get dressed. The Doctor bites viciously into his last slice of jam-slathered toast while the other man replies.
“I had spotted that myself, yes,” the Time Lord agrees somewhat bitterly, swirling the remaining tea in his mug and drinking it, although the half-human Doctor can’t help thinking that it must have long since gone cold.
“So remind me again why you can’t just ask her when I’m naturally out of the way – say when I’m sleeping.”
“Because it won’t be special,” comes the sharp retort. “I can’t just go ‘Tea? One sugar? Oh, and while I’m on the subject, do you want to get married?’”
“I don’t suppose it’s quite the romantic proposal she’s dreamed of, no,” the man with one heart is forced to admit. “Still, it’s not like I’m not trying to get out of your way!”
“I know.” The other Doctor nods, acknowledging this. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
For a moment, there’s silence. The Doctor doesn’t bother trying to figure out what the man in brown is thinking, his own thoughts full of the frustrations of the past few days. His first plan to give the Time Lord a chance to propose was to fake an illness that would keep him away while the other two went off together, but Donna flatly refused to leave the TARDIS without him, so he’d had to make a rapid ‘recovery’ in order to get her to stop fussing over him.
Still, at least the other Doctor hadn’t been jealous of Donna’s attentions. Clearly the Time Lord had been reassured both by the conversation they had had after Victoria’s coronation ball and by whatever Donna had said to him afterwards.
Donna, too, seems much calmer these days. The half-human Doctor guessed that whatever had been said to her had been equally reassuring. However the fact that she wasn’t worrying about the Doctor’s feelings for her meant she had more attention to pay to other things – like being concerned when he ducked off during one of their trips in another attempt to give them time alone. Instead, while he was still within earshot, he could hear Donna expressing concern about his absence, meaning that she wasn’t about to pay attention to anything the Time Lord might have said and thus completely killing any romantic atmosphere.
His most recent tactic had been to leave the room whenever the other two had the chance to get together. He’d thought he was succeeding until, while they were having breakfast, Donna had demanded to know whether the two men had had an argument because it was the only explanation she could come up with for his behaviour. When they denied it, she had worried that she had done something to upset him. It had taken all of his powers of persuasion to convince her otherwise.
“The problem is,” the man flicks a piece of fluff off his blue sleeve, casting a teasing glance at the other Doctor, “the woman you want to marry is simply far too brilliant.”
“That’s not exactly modest considering she’s half you,” the Time Lord shoots back, although his eyes are dancing.
“Oh, no, my lack of modesty comes from you, not her.” He grins for a moment before coming more serious and offering a shrug. “I don’t know what else I can do. I just don’t think we’re going to be able to arrange something. All you can do is be ready and take advantage of the moment if one presents itself.”
“We’ll see.” The other man gets up and begins to stack the dirty plates. “And in the meantime, trust me, I’m not letting that box out of my sight.”
“Good.”
Putting the lids on the jars of jam and chocolate spread and then placing the cover over the butter, the half-human Doctor catches the cloth thrown to him by the Time Lord and wipes down the table. Within moments, the room is spotless and they head up to the console room.
“So where are we going this time?” Donna asks when she joins them a short time later.
“We’re going to find a butterfly,” the Time Lord announces, and a look of surprise appears on Donna’s face.
“A real butterfly, or some race that just looks like butterflies?” she demands.
“No, we’re not going to meet the Arcateenians.” He sets a destination into the scanner before looking up with a grin. “We should though, one day. You’d love them, Donna. They’re brilliant.”
“Today though?” the other Doctor prompts. “I presume you’ve got a particular butterfly in mind. We’re not just going to find a Small Tortoiseshell or something, are we?”
“No – well, not today.” He sends the TARDIS off on its way and grins as the other two take their places around the console. “Allons-y then, hey?”
They arrive soon afterwards and the man in the brown suit leads the way out of the TARDIS. They trio find themselves deep in what almost looks like a fairytale wood, with winding paths leading between trees. Dappled sunlight is managing to make its way through the thick canopy of branches and leaves and a light breeze is making the clusters of flowers that line the paths bob their petalled heads.
“So, this butterfly we’re hunting, what does it look like?” Donna asks practically as they step out onto the path.
“It’s mostly a creamy colour, almost yellow,” comes the ready reply, “but the edges have hints of purple.”
“Lovely.” Donna smiles. “Are we going to stick together then, or split up?”
The man in the blue suit is about to offer to go on his own when the Time Lord speaks first.
“Three paths and three of us,” he suggests, waving at the narrow areas of cleared ground of front of them. “Let’s take one each and see what we find.”
“Brilliant!” Without further prompting, she takes the path that leads away to the right, leaving the Doctors to take the others.
“Cream and purple?” the half-human man mutters in sarcastic tones before he heads off. “How very handy!”
“And you said I couldn’t arrange things,” the Time Lord murmurs significantly as Donna disappears between the trees.
“Don’t count your chickens,” he shoots back sotto voce, half tempted to ruin the Time Lord’s plans by following Donna, but he can’t quite bring himself to do it when the circumstances seems so favourable.
As he heads off down the left-hand path, the Doctor isn’t sure whether to bother searching for this non-existent butterfly or not. He’s tempted to head back to the TARDIS, make himself a cup of tea and try to find a book he hasn’t read more than ten or twelve times while he waits for the others to return.
On the other hand, the fresh breeze is lovely on his face, and even he has to admit that there are times when the TARDIS, huge as she is, can become a touch claustrophobic.
Finding himself a tree-branch at just the right height, he settles himself to wait for a while and enjoy being outside.
However he’s only just getting comfortable when he hears a yelp and detects a flash of pain on his internal radar.
It’s similar enough to the way he felt during the meta-crisis, when Donna was suffering, for him to understand that she’s the one who has been hurt.
Before he fully realises what he’s doing, he’s on his feet and making his way back along the path. The trees are too thick for him to attempt to cut through, and considering how much his path twisted and turned, he suspects Donna’s will have done the same thing, so finding a straight line to her could be next to impossible.
The next moment, however, he catches a glimpse of purple through the trees,
For an instant, he wonders if he’s about the find the butterfly whose existence he mocked so roundly before, but then he remembers that Donna is wearing her favourite purple jacket and realises he’s found the object of his search.
She’s not alone though.
The Time Lord is already on his knees beside her, his fingers gently probing her foot.
“I don’t think you’ve broken it,” he’s saying as the other Doctor finds a spot where he can hear as well as see what’s going on.
“I’ve already told you that,” Donna says in a mildly frustrated tone, but one which is full of affection for all that. “I don’t think I’ve even sprained it. It’s probably just strained.”
“We should get you back to the TARDIS to check.”
“Don’t be so daft,” she scolds, and then, as he’s fishing around in his pocket. “What are you doing now?”
“Strapping it.”
“Doctor, I rolled my ankle,” she says somewhat impatiently. “I didn’t fall down a cliff!”
“Still, we should…”
“No!” She glares at him. “Stop being so ridiculous! Anyone would think I was on my last legs from the way you’re carrying on.”
Almost sheepishly, the Time Lord returns the bandage to his pocket and then Donna reaches down to link her fingers with his.
“I’m sorry,” she says after a moment’s silence. “I know you’re trying to take care of me.”
“No, I’m sorry.” The Doctor reaches up to cup her cheek with his hand, stroking her temple with his thumb. “I just hate seeing you in pain, Donna. I wish…” His voice trails off for a moment before he continues. “I wish I could always be there to take care of you.”
“Me too,” she agrees, her voice lowering until it’s only just audible to the man in hiding.
There’s a period where he can’t hear anything, and the Doctor wonders if he might be missing the conversation he’s been trying to prompt by his absence for several days. He's about to back away and head for the TARDIS when a sound stops him short.
It's the Time Lord laughing.
“What’s wrong with you?” Donna demands, her eyes wide, staring at him as if he’s lost his mind.
“Just this.” He shakes his head a little. “Us. Me,” he corrects. “Donna, I’ve been trying to get you to myself for days, but now that we’re here, I can’t find the words I want for what I want to ask you.”
Donna’s face lights up with a grin. “Oh, is that what’s been wrong with the two of you, why the other Doctor keeps disappearing? I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe what he said over breakfast about nothing being wrong.”
“No, he knows what’s going on. He was helping – well,” the Time Lord adds, “trying to. But,” he smiles at her, “you kept asking about him and spoiling the moment.”
“Sorry.” She leans forward and kisses him before suddenly placing her hands on his chest and giving him a gentle push back.
“What?” he asks quickly, his concern obvious. “Donna, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” There’s a shy expression on her face as she looks up at him. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just – if you’re asking me what I think you are, could you do it properly?”
“Properly?” There’s a teasing tone in the Time Lord’s voice that makes the other Doctor grin, remembering the conversation they had about this moment. “You want a proper proposal? I never had you pegged as a romantic, Donna Noble.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” she retorts, although there’s no negativity or sarcasm in her voice.
“And maybe I do,” he tells her, sliding his hand into the pocket of his jacket.
For what seems like ages, he fishes around in the bigger-on-the-inside pocket, until the half-human Doctor can hardly hear it.
“Oh, come on,” he murmurs, feeling his single heart beating hard against his ribs as his hands grip the branch in front of him. “You can’t have lost it!”
At that moment, however, the other man pulls his hand free and the small black box is visible between his fingers. He moves around so that he’s in front of her and sinks onto one knee.
“Donna Noble,” he asks softly as he opens the box, “will you marry me?”
And although the man hidden behind the blue bushes can’t hear the response, not least because he suspects Donna is on the verge of the happiest tears she’s ever shed, it’s clear from the way the Time Lord takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto the fourth finger of her left hand that the answer was the one he had hoped to hear.
And in case anyone was wondering, Donna’s ring looks like this:
Some Time Alone
mischievous