fic: extraordinary
Dec. 7th, 2008 08:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thirty2flavorsTitle: Extraordinary
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: The Doctor, Donna and some brief mentions of the additional cast of "Midnight"
Genre: Angst-y gen, which is apparently mynot so new favourite or something.
Spoilers?: Through "Midnight" (4x10)
Summary: Donna Noble is angry.
Excerpt: “They were scared,” was all the Doctor would say, and for once Donna found herself wishing he’d relinquish the moral high ground and admit that they were wrong, wrong, wrong, cowards and idiots and quite nearly murderers.
Once she’d stopped being terrified with concern, Donna had started being furious.
She was furious at herself for staying behind, for lounging by a pool while the Doctor’d been off putting himself in mortal peril. She was furious at the Midnight staff and their apparent reluctance to believe the story put forth by six of their guests. She was even a little (and, she admitted, rather unfairly) furious at the Doctor, for having such an incredible knack for finding trouble everywhere he went.
Mostly, though, she was furious at them, the five people who had come so close to killing her best friend.
Convincing an entire establishment that they ought to pack up, lock the doors behind them and toss out the key was not an easy task, not even for the Oncoming Storm and Donna Noble, Supertemp. The five people standing awkwardly in the back corner, actively pretending the Doctor didn’t exist, had not been much help.
Donna had wanted to scream at them. Would have, too, if the combination of the Doctor’s vice-like grip on her hand and his impassive face hadn’t been begging her to stay silent. She’d settled instead on the coldest glare she could manage and felt a twisted sort of accomplishment when they’d shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.
They were lucky, Donna thought, that she hadn’t been there.
“They were scared,” was all the Doctor would say, and for once Donna found herself wishing he’d relinquish the moral high ground and admit that they were wrong, wrong, wrong, cowards and idiots and quite nearly murderers. She knew, on some level, that perhaps she ought to feel some measure of sympathy; they had, after all, been thrown into a horrible situation, seen death and terror and the worst of themselves.
She couldn’t seem to muster up the morality.
The problem was that she could see the haunted look in the Doctor’s eyes and she knew what had put it there. It wasn’t the mysterious force that had hijacked his voice and paralyzed his body. It wasn’t that he’d nearly been killed, because that was hardly a first. It was that they were human, the lot of them, ordinary, plain, simple, boring, average humans, the sort he so frequently brought onto the TARDIS, the sort he fought so consistently to protect.
It scared her, perhaps as much as it scared him. Perhaps more.
“Come on,” he said eventually, once the point had finally been made and they were able at last to retreat to the TARDIS. Donna clung to his hand as they walked, determined to anchor him, searching for and failing to find something to say.
They were nearly back to the quiet corridor where the ship was parked when the all-too-familiar sound of running came from behind. They spun around to look at the same time, and the Doctor dropped her hand.
“Doctor!”
Donna recognized the voice as one of the five, the dark-haired boy who’d stood separate from the rest, arms folded protectively across his chest. He was young, and Donna presumed that before today he considered homework and overbearing parents to be the absolute worst that life got. He stopped when he reached them, wedged his hands into the pockets of his jeans and didn’t quite make eye contact with either of them.
“Jethro,” the Doctor said, nodding ever-so-slightly, his voice and expression unreadable.
The boy shifted his weight from one foot and back to the other, and then finally lifted his gaze to meet the Doctor’s. “I just – I wanted to… apologize.” He dropped his gaze back down to the floor. “It was just – everyone was –” He fumbled for the words and Donna nearly felt a pang of sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
At her side, the Doctor nodded again, the faintest sign of a smile on his lips. “I know.”
That was that, apparently. Jethro gave a twitchy, nervous smile and went back the way he came; the Doctor turned on his heel and continued towards the TARDIS. Bewildered, Donna gaped after both of them, then shook herself and started after the Doctor.
She caught up to him as he was fishing in his pocket for the TARDIS key. She leaned heavily against the familiar blue wooden frame and stared at him in disbelief.
“That’s it?” she asked, and he met her eyes as he slipped the key into the lock. “'I know?'”
He raised an eyebrow. “What would you have preferred me to say, Donna?”
Lots of things, Donna thought, and probably several the TARDIS wouldn’t be keen on translating. Instead she said, “He tried to kill you.”
“And he apologized. The only one, too.” He shrugged. “I liked Jethro, well enough. He was clever.”
Donna stared. “He tried to kill you,” she said again, in case the first time had gotten lost in translation.
The Doctor gave her a strange sort of smile and shouldered open the door. “Lots of people have tried to kill me. No one’s quite got the hang of it yet.”
Donna stepped into the golden light of the TARDIS console room and frowned.
“So he apologizes and it’s just water under the bridge, then? That’s it? No lecture? No righteous Time Lord anger?” She raised her eyebrows. “If it was me they’d tried to chuck out of their bloody space bus you’d be absolutely beside yourself.”
“Well, yes, probably,” he conceded, tossing his coat over one of the coral struts. “But it wasn’t.”
He leapt up the ramp to the console, no doubt eager to leave the diamond planet far behind, and Donna instinctively braced herself as the ship dematerialized. From his spot at the controls, the Doctor looked over at her.
“He’ll have plenty to deal with because of today, Donna, without a guilt trip from me. They all will.”
“But so will you.”
The Doctor only smiled.
Donna heaved a sigh as she made her way up the ramp. There was no point in being angry, not if she was never going to see those people again, and his resolute smile only dredged up the worry she’d managed to bury under her fury. She knew how the Doctor dealt with things – or rather, how he didn’t – and she remembered too clearly the delay there’d been before he’d hugged her back.
“It’s just that they were people,” she admitted, coming to stand at his side, tracing her fingers over the unfamiliar controls of the TARDIS. “Just… regular, ordinary people. Just like me.”
“Oh, they were nothing like you, Donna.” The Doctor smiled sideways at her. “The people I travel with – none of you are ever really ordinary.”
Donna found she didn’t have the heart to correct him.
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: The Doctor, Donna and some brief mentions of the additional cast of "Midnight"
Genre: Angst-y gen, which is apparently my
Spoilers?: Through "Midnight" (4x10)
Summary: Donna Noble is angry.
Excerpt: “They were scared,” was all the Doctor would say, and for once Donna found herself wishing he’d relinquish the moral high ground and admit that they were wrong, wrong, wrong, cowards and idiots and quite nearly murderers.
Once she’d stopped being terrified with concern, Donna had started being furious.
She was furious at herself for staying behind, for lounging by a pool while the Doctor’d been off putting himself in mortal peril. She was furious at the Midnight staff and their apparent reluctance to believe the story put forth by six of their guests. She was even a little (and, she admitted, rather unfairly) furious at the Doctor, for having such an incredible knack for finding trouble everywhere he went.
Mostly, though, she was furious at them, the five people who had come so close to killing her best friend.
Convincing an entire establishment that they ought to pack up, lock the doors behind them and toss out the key was not an easy task, not even for the Oncoming Storm and Donna Noble, Supertemp. The five people standing awkwardly in the back corner, actively pretending the Doctor didn’t exist, had not been much help.
Donna had wanted to scream at them. Would have, too, if the combination of the Doctor’s vice-like grip on her hand and his impassive face hadn’t been begging her to stay silent. She’d settled instead on the coldest glare she could manage and felt a twisted sort of accomplishment when they’d shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.
They were lucky, Donna thought, that she hadn’t been there.
“They were scared,” was all the Doctor would say, and for once Donna found herself wishing he’d relinquish the moral high ground and admit that they were wrong, wrong, wrong, cowards and idiots and quite nearly murderers. She knew, on some level, that perhaps she ought to feel some measure of sympathy; they had, after all, been thrown into a horrible situation, seen death and terror and the worst of themselves.
She couldn’t seem to muster up the morality.
The problem was that she could see the haunted look in the Doctor’s eyes and she knew what had put it there. It wasn’t the mysterious force that had hijacked his voice and paralyzed his body. It wasn’t that he’d nearly been killed, because that was hardly a first. It was that they were human, the lot of them, ordinary, plain, simple, boring, average humans, the sort he so frequently brought onto the TARDIS, the sort he fought so consistently to protect.
It scared her, perhaps as much as it scared him. Perhaps more.
“Come on,” he said eventually, once the point had finally been made and they were able at last to retreat to the TARDIS. Donna clung to his hand as they walked, determined to anchor him, searching for and failing to find something to say.
They were nearly back to the quiet corridor where the ship was parked when the all-too-familiar sound of running came from behind. They spun around to look at the same time, and the Doctor dropped her hand.
“Doctor!”
Donna recognized the voice as one of the five, the dark-haired boy who’d stood separate from the rest, arms folded protectively across his chest. He was young, and Donna presumed that before today he considered homework and overbearing parents to be the absolute worst that life got. He stopped when he reached them, wedged his hands into the pockets of his jeans and didn’t quite make eye contact with either of them.
“Jethro,” the Doctor said, nodding ever-so-slightly, his voice and expression unreadable.
The boy shifted his weight from one foot and back to the other, and then finally lifted his gaze to meet the Doctor’s. “I just – I wanted to… apologize.” He dropped his gaze back down to the floor. “It was just – everyone was –” He fumbled for the words and Donna nearly felt a pang of sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
At her side, the Doctor nodded again, the faintest sign of a smile on his lips. “I know.”
That was that, apparently. Jethro gave a twitchy, nervous smile and went back the way he came; the Doctor turned on his heel and continued towards the TARDIS. Bewildered, Donna gaped after both of them, then shook herself and started after the Doctor.
She caught up to him as he was fishing in his pocket for the TARDIS key. She leaned heavily against the familiar blue wooden frame and stared at him in disbelief.
“That’s it?” she asked, and he met her eyes as he slipped the key into the lock. “'I know?'”
He raised an eyebrow. “What would you have preferred me to say, Donna?”
Lots of things, Donna thought, and probably several the TARDIS wouldn’t be keen on translating. Instead she said, “He tried to kill you.”
“And he apologized. The only one, too.” He shrugged. “I liked Jethro, well enough. He was clever.”
Donna stared. “He tried to kill you,” she said again, in case the first time had gotten lost in translation.
The Doctor gave her a strange sort of smile and shouldered open the door. “Lots of people have tried to kill me. No one’s quite got the hang of it yet.”
Donna stepped into the golden light of the TARDIS console room and frowned.
“So he apologizes and it’s just water under the bridge, then? That’s it? No lecture? No righteous Time Lord anger?” She raised her eyebrows. “If it was me they’d tried to chuck out of their bloody space bus you’d be absolutely beside yourself.”
“Well, yes, probably,” he conceded, tossing his coat over one of the coral struts. “But it wasn’t.”
He leapt up the ramp to the console, no doubt eager to leave the diamond planet far behind, and Donna instinctively braced herself as the ship dematerialized. From his spot at the controls, the Doctor looked over at her.
“He’ll have plenty to deal with because of today, Donna, without a guilt trip from me. They all will.”
“But so will you.”
The Doctor only smiled.
Donna heaved a sigh as she made her way up the ramp. There was no point in being angry, not if she was never going to see those people again, and his resolute smile only dredged up the worry she’d managed to bury under her fury. She knew how the Doctor dealt with things – or rather, how he didn’t – and she remembered too clearly the delay there’d been before he’d hugged her back.
“It’s just that they were people,” she admitted, coming to stand at his side, tracing her fingers over the unfamiliar controls of the TARDIS. “Just… regular, ordinary people. Just like me.”
“Oh, they were nothing like you, Donna.” The Doctor smiled sideways at her. “The people I travel with – none of you are ever really ordinary.”
Donna found she didn’t have the heart to correct him.
