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“So, where are you from?”
The question caught the Doctor off guard just… a bit. Not-Donna couldn’t know any more than Donna did, and Donna absolutely did not know that.
“No, we’ve done that. We’ve talked about that. Back there, out loud. All four of us,” The Doctor said sharply. Her expression was just a little off, a little too blank. Could be exhaustion—no way to tell.
“You know it’s Gallifrey,” The Doctor continued, ignoring any unneeded thoughts the name of his home stirred up.
“Except... it’s not.” Keen, he'd always liked that about Donna.
“What do you mean?” He shot back. This regeneration had historically been one of his more active ones, he remembered. The Doctor wanted to pace, to fiddle with a loose thread or some other distraction from The Question that he was trying rather hard not to think about, thank you very much.
“You don’t know where you’re from,” Maybe-Donna’s voice wasn’t rough, but he still flinched. This air feels a bit thin, he thought wryly, sort of like the ship's oxygens about to run out. Obviously not, it's running on circular filters that should be good for about… oh, ten years, his mind supplied, comforting memory, that. Nice one, Doctor.
Right, this meant it wasn’t Donna after all, then. Never told her.
Good. Great. Brilliant, actually.
Except…
That wasn’t right.
If the not-Donna knew, it meant Donna knew. Impossible, she would have said something. And besides, there was literally no way that information could physically fit in her head. Even a small chunk of his memories would overwhelm her completely. She would burn up, again.
So it meant that these beings could take from both their memories, which was… not technically better. Although, there could be another explanation.
“How do you know that? How does anyone know?” The Doctor demanded.
Well, the Master knew. But honestly as often as they turned up alive, lying unconscious on a planet while it exploded probably meant he wouldn’t be seeing them here. Right, yeah, another one for the steadily growing list of things he was not thinking about.
“How does Donna know?” He added, watching her reaction carefully. Maybe he could catch her out. The being that stood in front of him didn’t show any sign of discomfort aside from the pity still plain on her face, which was in turn making him uncomfortable.
The Doctor knew he was being more accusatory than necessary — although honestly, these creatures were impersonating them, accusing them of such was kind of the minimum — but he really didn’t care. Well, really shouldn’t care, based on what he knew about this face. But something from his last few regenerations must have carried over, prevented him from completely going back to that personality. Because if this was Donna, he didn’t her to be any more scared than she already was. She was so far from home, at the very edge of creation. She must be terrified.
The Doctor thought he generally covered his own fear well, but if one of the Not-Things was in front of him that would be useless. Was it really mind-reading if they sort of just... knew?
“Back on earth, when I was the Doctor-Donna, I saw your mind. I’ve had 15 years without you, and I saw everything that’s happened to you since and oh, my God, it hurt.” She definitely sounded sincere.
Okay. Right, that was— well, it didn’t help. Actually, any progress he’d made on whoever was standing in front of him was lost.
And… he'd hurt her. Why hadn’t she mentioned—?
Donna didn’t move any closer. Her brow was pinched in worry. Not Donna, no matter how much she seemed to know.
Does that mean she knows about-
The Doctor took a small step back but kept his eyes carefully trained on the being's face. That had sounded like her, hadn’t it? But it wasn’t.
“You’re saying this to break me down,” He kept his voice even. Mostly. Was that true? Donna would never do that. She could be brash and more than a little rude, but she was empathetic, and so, so kind. She'd never purposely hurt him, never, but was that her intent? He couldn't focus enough to tell.
“We haven’t stopped to talk, we haven’t had a chance,” She sounded almost desperate, but didn’t step any closer. Maybe she was respecting his boundaries? Nice of her, that.
…Or just not entirely sure about Donna’s body language yet.
She continued softly, “It’s always like that with you, running from one thing to the next. I saw it. In your head. The Flux.” A chill very different from the one he had felt earlier ran down his spine. She stepped forward, finally, and he flinched back again.
“It destroyed half the universe. Because of me,” the Doctor choked out, still not looking away. He couldn’t slip up, couldn’t let her have the upper hand no matter how bitter the words tasted on his tongue, “We stand here now, on the edge of creation, a creation which I devastated.”
“So, yes, I keep running.” The words were becoming too loud, too harsh. He was pacing now, maybe a little frantically. He tried to inhale, but his breath caught sharply in his chest. “Of course I do! How am I supposed to look back on that?”
“It wasn’t your fault!” She matched his volume.
“I know!” The Doctor gasped, any semblance of control gone. He was so tired of dancing around this.
It is his fault, isn’t it? The division created it to destroy him, and it destroyed half the universe instead.
He couldn’t even comprehend that loss, because how could anyone?
The Doctor knew from personal experience that when enough lives are lost that counting them becomes impossible, you just feel... numb. But the Time War had been different. The war had been pointless, yes, only serving as a means for more suffering, but some part of him could understand it had always been inevitable. Daleks and Time Lords didn't mix, never could. Someday, sometime, someone would have started that fight. Didn't make it okay, of course, far from it.
But this? This was... Trillions upon trillions of lives lost for absolutely nothing. Part of him still didn't believe it could happen. Had happened. Cities, planets, solar systems, constellations and whole galaxies just... gone. The only thing left was the memory of them, and even that would eventually fade. Whole species and cultures and religions that were erased because he—
For a startling moment, he forgot how to breathe.
“Donna, is that you?” His voice wavered.
“Yeah,” Donna said softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Oh, that expression, he’d seen it before so many times when they had travelled. It hadn’t usually been aimed at him, though.
“All this time—“ The Doctor stepped forward, and met her in the middle of the room with a tight hug. She quickly wrapped her arms - definitely the right length - around his shoulders. “I missed you.”
She was here. She was alright. An exhausted sigh escaped his lips as he let himself sink into her embrace.
“Hey, martian,” Donna mumbled into his hair, “I’ve got you, okay?”
The Doctor didn’t trust himself to respond properly, not now. He gave her a noncommittal hum in agreement. They would have to move soon because the not-things would find them, and then they would be running again. But right now, this second, they were safe.
Donna was here. Her embrace was warm, her slightly rough jacket grounding where his hands gripped it, her breathing even and soft. His breath was still a bit too fast, and he couldn’t stop how it hitched on every inhale. He knew what a panic attack felt like while it built, and he hoped he could calm himself enough to delay it further— at least until they got off this awful ship. The Doctor closed his eyes, inhaling softly.
Donna knew.
The thought wouldn’t leave him alone, and that was saying a lot with how fast his brain balled up and threw ideas into the metaphorical waste bin in his mind. If she knew, that was what - two thousand or so years of memory at least? And that wasn’t including the confession dial.
But the meta-crisis could have left just enough to keep her not burnt to a crisp, a few key memories.
We haven’t stopped to talk.
But she would have mentioned that, wouldn’t…?
Yeah, she would.
Donna would have complained about it at the very least, all those extra experiences suddenly shoved into her brain. An awful feeling twisted in his chest.
Gingerly, he shifted in her grip and pulled back. Donna didn’t let him go, holding on tight.
Her sharp nails dug into his back. That wasn’t right.
Not nails, he realized numbly, claws. Last time he checked, Donna didn't have those.
Jolting out of her grip and staggering back, he caught a flash of white fangs. Not-Donna grinned nastily at him. Yeah, those teeth were way too sharp. Should probably let her know.
Under his horrified gaze, her lower body melted into an inky puddle on the floor.
“God you’re pathetic.” Not-Donna snarled, her face very literally twisting. “You are such a prize! Do you really think she cares about you enough to forgive that?”
The words should sting. They didn’t register in his mind, though. Just… numbness. He tried to open his mouth and say something witty. Think of a good counter. But his brain wouldn’t cooperate. This is too much. All of this is too much. He can't—
The door behind him slid open.
Donna Noble stepped through, her face transitioning through a glorious array of emotions as she surveyed the scene before her.
“What the hell is happening here?” Donna stared at her double as the Not-Thing waved, then melted a little more into the grooves of the ship’s floor.
The Doctor wanted to run to Donna, real Donna, grab her hand and race out of here, but his feet wouldn’t move. His head was spinning, or maybe the room was. No, the stabilizers had been working last he checked, so it was definitely him. His mind didn’t feel like his, which wasn’t right because this face, this body, was so familiar. Had his last regeneration felt like this after she'd changed? All shaky and blurry and wrong.
But this wasn’t regeneration sickness. He’d been fine when he got here.
Hadn’t he? He couldn’t remember.
Why can’t he think properly?
Is Donna talking now? Which one?
…What's happening...?
“...Doctor! Doctor, listen to me.”
Donna.
Her voice, actually her this time.
Right. He was running again, wasn’t he? His feet were moving, that was for sure. He couldn’t feel it though, couldn’t feel his muscles burning, the way his breath was probably coming in gasps. He knew he should be feeling those sensations, hearing his voice give her a clipped response, but everything was dull, almost as if he was deep underwater.
Behind him, Not-Donna was chasing them down the main corridor. Right, that must be where they were. She was yelling at Donna, who was pointedly ignoring her fanged double. The Doctor couldn’t make out what she was saying, though. It was too.. muddled.
Real-Donna pulled him by the hand into a side corridor, slamming the door shut in the Not-Things face. They ran down a tangled mess of corridors for what felt like seconds but was probably minutes, finally ending up back in the control room.
Donna stumbled to a halt, panting.
“Spaceman, can—” Donna broke off, wheezing slightly. “Can you look at me?”
The Doctor turned, met her gaze. Donna’s eyes widened slightly, and something like realization washed over her.
“Okay. Okay, right.” Her breathing evened. “Tell me where we are.”
“Of course, we’re in—“ The Doctor knew this. He’d just thought it, a minute ago …or maybe a second. The passage of time felt off, somehow; the usually crisp, icy currents he could feel flow around him were now oily and dark and suffocating. “We’re in the. I, I don’t—“
“Take a breath. In, out.” Donna’s voice was strained, her expression almost scared. Why was she scared? He didn’t know and he hated not knowing. Well, except for when-
He tried to inhale slowly, stop the icy panic he could feel spreading from his hearts. Good. Good, panic is good, He thought blearily. Meant he wasn’t numb anymore.
Donna slowly reached toward him, as if he were a frightened animal. When he didn’t move away, she placed one hand… somewhere. He couldn’t tell, couldn’t-
“Can you feel my hand?” She squeezed his palm softly. When had she…?
“Yeah—” his voice cracked, making him wince slightly, “Yeah. I can.”
Donna let out a relieved breath, breaking their eye contact as she turned away for a second.
“Well, good.” She met his eyes again. “You okay?”
Was he? The Doctor knew where he was and how he got there. He could think and feel, could almost breathe properly. The after-effects of whatever that had been were still reeling through him, but he felt a little more grounded. Donna’s hand steadied his trembling one, her presence solid and warm in front of him.
Something doesn’t feel right.
All too quickly everything was rushing back, making his vision spin.
The lights were far too bright. His head ached slightly when he turned it, the overhead fixtures casting a clinical brilliance over the entire room. The air was stuffy and thick, and the usually undetectable metallic tang from the circular filters was strong enough to taste.
Too much noise was his second coherent thought. Even without Donna speaking, it was almost unbearable. The low roar of the engines felt magnified one-hundredfold, their out-of-sync breathing and hum of the electronic interfaces and the soft shifting of fabric against fabric and the sound of blood rushing in his ears so loud. His hearts were pounding all too fast.
And then there was the almost paper-thin glass that did nothing to block the deafening silence of the edge of the universe, the inky wall drowning the light cast from the ship, without a single star offering any relief from the oppressive darkness. He could feel it pressing in on him, weighing down his chest.
A creation that I devastated.
The world spun again, more viciously this time.
“...Donna?”
“Yes?” Her response was instant. Worried.
“…Think ‘m gonna be sick.” He swallowed, hard.
Donna’s eyes widened.
She reached out tentatively, maybe trying to steady him, then withdrew her hand. She opened her mouth, closed it. Unsure, which was a bit odd for Donna — oh, she had no lack of confidence when she was ragging on the TARDIS for being too ‘boxy’, whatever that meant — but he was too busy trying not to throw up on her shoes for it to really register.
“Okay, okay—” Donna’s voice was gentle and a little shaky as she guided him firmly by the shoulders, “Just- just sit down.”
Carefully, she sat them both down on the cold metal floor of the ship. The Doctor could tell Donna was hovering, unsure of what to do or how to help. He exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut as the world tilted on its axis. A wave of nausea washed over him and he swallowed again, thickly.
He'd always hated being any kind of sick, no matter the body. It had been fairly easy to avoid, as Time Lords didn’t get ill nearly as often or badly as some other species did — taking care of Donna when she’d caught a cold on an ice planet they’d visited had been a nightmare for both of them, but at least he couldn’t catch anything from her— but it seemed that luck had run out.
Donna said something didn't catch in a concerned tone, still hovering a little awkwardly. The Doctor tried to reassure her but only managed a low groan. A few seconds later, he felt Donna’s hand on his back carefully running up and down in an almost sympathetic manner. The feeling of her beside him was comforting in itself, and he was grateful for it as he desperately tried to stop the room from spinning.
⭒
After a minute - 79 seconds, actually- in that position he dared to move, carefully untucking his legs from underneath him and resting his palms shakily on his knees. He didn’t try and lift his head, not yet. The dizziness hadn’t faded entirely, but it was much more manageable. He counted the seconds. After nine, he opened his eyes and was pleasantly surprised at the lack of nausea.
Gingerly, he turned his head to see Donna. Oh, no. She looked genuinely worried, face pinched and slightly pale.
Finally, the Doctor’s mind caught up. He didn’t know what happened to Donna when they separated, if she’d been hurt or if the Not-Things had messed with her head like they had with his. He’d scared her with— well, the past 15 minutes had been a lot for both of them.
“Donna?” The Doctor rasped.
She started, her eyes focusing on him.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Donna scrubbed at her face hastily and… had she been crying? “…How do you feel?”
“…Been worse.” He said, carefully watching her expression. Yeah, she’d definitely been crying. She was covering up her exact emotions so he wouldn’t worry: as a serial committer of that exact crime it was pretty obvious. “Donna, are you alright?”
Donna loosed a breath, managing to look frustrated and shaken at the same time.
“You scared me.” She said simply. The honesty of her words was enough for his throat to tighten uncomfortably. “How about we stick together from now on, martian?”
“Oh, no complaints here.” The Doctor grinned weakly at her.
Donna held his gaze for a second more, before pulling him halfway into an embrace. She stopped with her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes.
“Is this alright?”
All the Doctor could do was nod. Donna brushed his hair still slightly damp with sweat back from his forehead. Then her arms laced around him and suddenly she was steady and warm and there. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he pressed his face into her hair, properly breathing for the first time in a good while. Donna’s shampoo was a combination of lavender and something else he couldn’t quite place. Tangerine? No, lemon.
“When we get out of here, I’m going to drag you into at least one awkward family dinner. No, scratch that— you owe me three for today alone.” Donna mumbled into his shoulder.
“…You know, maybe just this once I could.” The Doctor replied quietly. I did, while you were gone, he wanted to say, I had a family, more than once. The words stayed painfully lodged in his throat. Someday. I’ll tell her someday.
“Sylvia probably won’t mind. I think you’ve been redeemed.”
“She mellowed out while I was gone. Well,” He stretched the vowel out for longer than strictly necessary, “only a little.”
“And Wilf, he’ll be so— well, you know Wilf. He really would love having you about.”
“Oh that’s—! That’s basically manipulation.” The Doctor grinned. He could feel her responding laugh. “Good old Wilf. Probably best not to tell him about this trip, though.”
“Hmm, yeah. Speaking of.” Donna moved back, the rush of cold air a bit shocking after the warmth of her arms. “The Not-Things won’t leave us alone for much longer.”
“...Right.”
They were both exhausted, and the Nots knew. Getting the upper hand would be impossible, but figuring out what they wanted was actually feasible, so they should probably start there.
Donna offered him a hand, and the Doctor took it. She pulled them both up off the ship’s floor, keeping her eyes trained on him as she did. The room spun again briefly, and he gripped Donna’s shoulder for support, gave her a brief nod once the dizziness passed. Donna still looked suspicious, but she let it slide for now.
His thoughts turned back to the Nots. Not-Donna had gotten the general form down but still seemed to struggle with the teeth. Or was she doing that purposefully? Oh, he really wished they wouldn’t. It’s unnerving, which is probably the point. Still-
The Doctor had an old human anatomy book which he kept stashed away in his pockets, —it came in handy worryingly often in situations like these— the pockets of his coat, which had in turn been left on the guardrail in his TARDIS, which. Yeah.
⭒
“I taught your double object permanence. Do you think the other one knows too?” Donna crossed her arms after a minute of watching him fiddle with the ships scanner, her brow furrowed.
“…Well,” the Doctor started pacing, “our friend Not-Donna back there had some extra knowledge, and I thought, ‘they must share a consciousness!’ But that would mean a psychic link, constantly updating, everything we say shared with both of them at exactly the same time.”
Stopping briefly, he leaned an elbow on the control chair.
“But then again, they’re not from this universe! Maybe putting them into boxes like ‘consciousness’ ‘psychic’ or, well, even ‘beings’ just doesn’t… I mean, the fact that they’re even alive is— oh, I did it again!” The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, “But you see what I mean, right, Donna? Because-”
“Okay, spaceman, gonna stop you right there.” Donna was one of the only people in the universe who could derail the Doctor once he started rambling, and she was very aware of it. “What do they want from us anyway? I mean, the TARDIS is gone. They can’t leave with us.”
“…Donna, I have no idea,” The admission should have been followed by a sigh, some sign of exhaustion, but not knowing was more… intriguing this time. He could never resist a good mystery, after all.
Moving a bit closer to him, Donna glanced at his work. He was doing a second scan of the ship, trying to see if the Nots registered as lifeforms. Even that would help in figuring out… actually, what would that help? Didn’t matter, he could figure that out too.
“There’s one thing I don't get, though,” Donna leaned in, “No, there’s a lot I don’t get, but that’s not really the point of- ugh! I’m rambling like you now! Look what you’ve done to me, you-”
“Donna.”
“What happened? I mean, I’ve seen some awful things with you, and you’ve never…”
The Doctor paused with his hands resting on the controls, the scan halfway complete. Donna watched him carefully, moving back after a few seconds when he didn’t respond. He was so tired of lying. Just once, he wanted to tell her the whole truth. To get it out there, so he wouldn’t feel so… alone.
“Not-Donna brought up something I didn’t think she-“ He was unable to tamp down the bitterness that still laced his voice. “-well, it didn’t cross my mind that she’d know that. Guess it was all a bit much.”
“Sounds… unpleasant,” For once, Donna didn’t prod. She did, however, gesture for him to continue.
“Its just that, well,” The Doctor slipped his hands into his pockets, forcing himself to stay still. He opened his mouth, but the words stayed annoyingly stuck in his throat. Donna raised an eyebrow.
“When we get off this ship, I, er-“ He paused, swallowing. “I want, I’d like. If you don’t mind-”
“Spit it out, spaceman.” Donna wasn’t being harsh. Well, not any more than usual.
The Doctor took a hand out of his pocket and ran it over his face, giving into the agitating need for motion.
“Can we- can we talk? ‘Cos I don’t-“ He cut himself off again with a groan. “Mh, sorry. I know you’ve got Rose, and Shaun, and-“
“Fifteen years and you’re still a bit thick, yeah?”
“Donna… It’s been a lot longer than that for me.” The admission felt dangerous, but Donna didn’t look surprised. At all, actually. Oh, she already knew. I always forgot how perceptive she was when we travelled.
..Wait, did she just-
“Exactly how long?” Her voice was firm, but not demanding. Donna might be brash, but she always knew when to tone it down. Well, almost always.
“I don’t think thats-“
“How long?” Okay, maybe a bit demanding.
“Ah…” He stammered, trying to think up some sort of escape from the direction the conversation had gone in. Although, he didn’t really want that. After all this time, saying it to someone would be…
“Two thousand years,” He stopped cold. Wait, no. that wasn’t right. “At least, I think. It's a little hard to keep track, ‘Cos there was this- yeah, doesn’t matter.”
“…You absolute idiot.”
The Doctor sorted through multiple responses to her… warm statement. Something smart would be great.
“What?” Okay, could have said that better, Doctor.
Donna seemed to agree. She inhaled slowly.
“You keep acting like you’re not family. Like I’m just gonna… what, up and leave you?” Donna said steadily. Her gaze was warm as she looked over him, and just a touch annoyed. “You’re my best friend. I’m not gonna just ditch you once this is over. And I’m definitely not letting you leave me again, especially not when you're dealing with… whatever this is, yeah?”
Right, idiot was probably not a bad description. His eyes watered as her words sunk in.
“‘Course, yeah. Never thought any different. Absolutely.” The Doctor choked out, offering Donna another weak smile. She returned it.
“Sure you did. And to be very, very clear,” Donna looked him in the eyes, then grabbed his hands and pressed them to her heart. “You’ve always got a place with us. And I’ll always listen if you need me to. Wait, no- don’t you dare try and technobabble me while I’m making dinner. And If you speak one word to Rose about carbon particle transmutation I will-“
“That’s not a thing.”
“I don’t care. You make up half of the stuff you say anyway. You do get what I’m saying, right? Think about it.” Donna's light tone turned serious.
He thought about it.
Donna Noble was not the type of person to offer something like this lightly, and definitely not without meaning it. Maybe this time, he could actually… settle down. In a house. With a family. And an ordinary life.
Oh, who was he kidding? That would never work.
But it didn’t mean it wasn’t worth a try.
Or a lot of tries.
“Yeah. I do,” The Doctor sighed. He squeezed her hand where it still rested on her chest, then gently pulled away. “...We should get out of here. Figure out what the Not-Things are up to.”
“I’ll get us both out of this alive, I promise you.” He added softly, and he believed it with both of his hearts.
“You’d better, or else I will end you.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”