Title: Eclipse
Rating: R
Pairing: Ten/Donna (Friendship, UST)
Word Count: 2,733
Summary: Amidst shoes, sprains, and stolen minerals, Donna gets advice from an old friend, and finally owns up to her emotions. Spoilers for Doctor Who 4.13 - Journey’s End.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Story title inspired by The Frames.
Author’s Notes: Apologies, yet again, for the wait – I won’t even attempt to get into all of the myriad reasons that combined to delay this; I’ve also been a bit down on my writing lately, so that hasn’t helped matters either. Here’s hoping that somewhere in the foreseeable future, I can get the next part up.

Hope that you all enjoy this bit; and of course, as per usual, comments are more love than you can possibly fathom. Really really.


Part One: Eulalie
Part Two: Desperate Moments In Linear Time
Part Three: Ontological Subjectivity
Part Four: Better Than One
Part Five: Ātman
Part Six: Only
Part Seven: Two To Tango
Part Eight: Sonnets To A Dark Lady
Part Nine: The Forgotten Tide
Part Ten: Fifth Symphony in Ood Minor
Part Eleven: Ragnarök





Part Twelve: Fancy Feet


As it happened, they made it back to Earth again much quicker than either of them had anticipated.

As it happened, Sarah Jane Smith was just about to put on some tea when the doorbell rang.

She opened it promptly, only to be confronted by a face she hadn’t dared to hope she’d see again - or at the very least, not that she’d see again so soon. “Sarah Jane!”

“Doctor!” she exclaimed, taking the Time Lord into her arms as he embraced her awkwardly with one hand, the other wrapped protectively around the waist of another familiar figure. “Donna!”

Sarah Jane evaluated the spectacle of the two travelers on her doorstep, noticing that Donna was leaning rather dependently upon the Doctor’s shoulder, a grimace on her face and one foot hovering above the ground in a limp. “What’s happened?” she asked, concern in her voice as she swung the door open and ushered the pair inside.

The Doctor huffed as he shuffled Donna over the threshold. “Twisted her ankle.”

“Chasing after those scientists who were illegally exporting mineral resources on the Lost Moon of Poosh!” Donna exclaimed heatedly in reply, hopping as best she could after him as he led her towards the nearest seat he could find - the sofa, as it happened.

“Former Lost Moon,” the Doctor corrected irritably, casting a glare over at Donna before turning his attention to Sarah Jane as she entered the room. “Teach her to try and run in those heels anymore, though. Always told her they were impractical.” He rolled his eyes with a quick shake of his head in disapproval.

“But as it happens,” the Doctor continued, kneeling on the carpet distractedly as he took Donna’s injured foot in his hands and gingerly brought it to rest on the cushion of the sofa, “said scientists are still running rampant about the solar system, well,” he tilted his head as he paused and retraced his words, “their solar system, and extorting the precious mines of Poosh. Would you mind looking after my Donna here, whilst I clean that bit of mess up?” His eyes roamed back to Sarah Jane as he asked her with a hint of hope in his gaze.

“Oi!” Donna called from behind him indignantly. “Talk about me like I’m not here, why doncha?”

Sarah Jane shook her head with a smile as the Doctor ignored Donna’s interjection. “You don’t even have to ask.”

“Brilliant!” the Doctor exclaimed with a grin as he sprung back up, bouncing a bit as he spun once more on Donna, his gaze suddenly stern.

“Now,” he addressed her, his voice level and barring no argument as he watched Donna from beneath furrowed eyebrows, his lips curved into a frown. “Ice. Ice, elevation, rest, and...”

“Compression?” Donna suggested in a huff.

“Exactly!” he agreed with a sharp nod. “I don’t want you so much as lifting a toe, do you hear me?”

“You don’t own me, you know,” Donna groused with an edge of bitterness, her eyes sharp with defiance, unable to fight down the flare of indignation that his newfound over-protectiveness was driving forth within her.

The Doctor looked vaguely stricken for the barest of instants, so quick it may not have existed at all, really - but the tone of his voice was proof enough as he deflated just a tad, his unexpected honestly flowing with surprising freedom; his words nearly hollow.

“No,” he whispered starkly, stealing the warmth from her for just an instant. “No, but you’re hurt.” He swallowed hard, and his face looked ashen for a moment, colorless before he spoke again, deep and soft, from somewhere dangerously like his soul; “And you’ll have to forgive me, but I don’t know how else to deal with that.”

And what could she say to that, really?

Donna sighed, shaking her head with a toss of her hair; uncertain, uncomfortable, and suddenly stripped of her argument, her sense of unshakable independence - the almost claustrophobic fear of confinement; in the face of his emotion, his honesty, she could bring herself to do nothing else but try to break the tension. “You’re insufferable, sometimes,” she exhaled, the annoyance meant for the words nowhere to be found.

“And I pride myself on being so,” he rebounded momentarily with a cheeky smirk before growing serious once more, leaning down to brush her hair from her face so he could look her in the eye. “If I so much as suspect that you’ve gone as far as to imagine being on your feet by the time I get back,” he threatened in a low tone, “it won’t be pretty. Do you understand?”

“Since when did you become my keeper?” Donna met his eyes with a challenge in her own.

“Since the moment you stepped into the TARDIS,” the Doctor declared passionately, and Donna grew silent, staring carefully at him for a long moment before she nodded, thwarted and finally accepting it.

“Fine, Spaceman,” she conceded, sinking further into the sofa and crossing her arms.

The Doctor smiled, resting his hand on her shoulder as he murmured warmly; “Fine, Spacegirl.”

“Rooted to the spot,” Donna promised, grudgingly. “That’s me.”

The Doctor looked minutely relieved, grinning brightly as he patted her knee and straightened up. “Thank you.”

“Right then,” the Doctor took a breath and clapped his hands, his eyes scanning from Donna to Sarah Jane before he made for the door. “I’m off.”

--------------------------------------------------

After a quick rundown of her life with the Doctor since the encounter with Davros and the stealing of the Earth, Donna was reclining comfortably at Sarah Jane’s kitchen table, her leg propped on the chair to her side, and Sarah herself was getting Donna more ice for her ankle while she replenished the tea.

“Thanks for this,” Donna called over to where Sarah Jane was fiddling with the kettle. “Sorry to drop on you doorstep all willy-nilly. No call ahead.”

“Life with the Doctor’s unexpected,” Sarah Jane lifted her eyes to meet Donna’s from across the room, smiling softly in understanding as she brought Donna a fresh bag of ice. “It’s fine.”

Donna groaned as she shifted her tender foot, allowing Sarah Jane to adjust her leg for her, moaning in gratitude just a tad as the refreshed cool began to soothe the ache. “But thanks, though,” she murmured again, sinking back into her chair, letting her head loll over the back at an odd sort of angle.

“Nice kitchen,” she commented as Sarah Jane sat down, Donna studying the lines of her ceiling.

“Thanks,” Sarah Jane replied between sips. “It’s new. Well, newer than the rest of the house,” she clarified as Donna sat straight again, watching her from across the way. “Luke likes home-cooked meals, see. I normally ordered in, before.”

Donna smiled as she remembered the young man from the end of the world. “He seemed like a lovely boy. He home?”

Sarah Jane shook her head with a small grin. “Out with some friends.”

“Ah, kids,” Donna nodded wistfully, her eyes faraway as she lost herself in fairy tales - useless dreams.

Sarah Jane laughed a bit in agreement. “They keep you on your toes.”

A brief silence settled over them as both women lost themselves in thought; Donna gathering the courage to broach the topic on her mind with the only person in the world who might understand, whilst Sarah Jane waited patiently for Donna to break the subtle tension.

“I need to-” Donna exhaled sharply, her features tense as she tried to find the words. “I...” she shook her head, closing her eyes as Sarah Jane watched, reaching over and covering her younger guest’s hand comfortingly, squeezing a bit around her palm.

“You’re his closest friend,” Donna finally forced out, her eyes lost as they met Sarah Jane’s compassionate gaze, the older women’s soft and giving smile.

“Was,” Sarah Jane answered with a certain degree of melancholy. “That was a very long time ago. And it seems he’s had little trouble in replacing me,” she said softly, without bitterness but with some remorse as she removed her hand from Donna’s, her smile a bit thinner, but still genuine.

“Don’t talk like that,” Donna shot back emphatically, moving with her words and instantly regretting it as a sharp pang shot up her calf from her ankle. “He still thinks the world of you. You were special to him; different, from the others. The way he talks about you, how happy he was to have you back on the TARDIS again...” Donna smiled warmly, fighting down the throbbing ache in her foot and trying her best not to make the expression look like a cringe. “I can tell.”

“Somewhat like you, I suspect?” Sarah Jane said suddenly, her tone loud and unreadable, emerging from the break in conversation like a shot.

Donna stared at the other woman for a moment, trying to comprehend her, to pick her apart and understand, but to no avail. “Pardon?”

“Special to him,” Sarah Jane peered intensely up at her. “Different from the others.”

“Well,” Donna’s voice was tentative, slow and stalling, uncertain. “He’s the best friend I’ve ever had. I’d be, well...” she paused, her breath suddenly scarce. “I’d be honored if I could be his,” she whispered, her gaze soft as she glanced at table, biting her lip against the rest of the words, the hopes filling her mind. Her eyes snapped upwards with a smirk, though, as she pushed those thoughts away. “Don’t tell him I said so.”

Sarah Jane chuckled a bit, sipping at her tea and shivering a bit as she swallowed it down. “I think,” she began slowly, her eyes intent as she focused back on Donna, her tone weighty and consequential; “he sees you as more than just a friend, Donna.”

Donna stilled, speechless, not knowing what to say - if she should say anything at all. “Don’t tell me you don’t see it,” Sarah Jane continued hastily, an edge to her tone as she eyed Donna skeptically. “He was barely here five minutes, and it was more than painfully obvious that he was worried sick over nothing more than a twisted ankle?” She gestured towards Donna’s elevated foot flippantly, raising her eyebrows as if the truth of her words was more than obvious. “That’s not just friendly concern,” Sarah Jane asserted carefully with a shake of her head. “You must know that.”

“I...” Donna felt suddenly warm, the ache in her leg the only thing keeping her from trembling with the force of her heartbeats. “Well, I...” Distressed, she dropped her forehead to the tabletop, the cool, smooth surface glossy and soothing against her hot flesh.

“I don’t know what to do,” she moaned into the laminated wood grain, her lips wet, the condensation of her breaths visible in front of her.

“He wants...” Donna banged her forehead in frustration against the table, grunting at the shuddering force. “I don’t know what he wants. He won’t ever tell me, won’t ask for anything from me, at least, not like that, nothing emotional; meaningful,” she sighed, lifting her chin. “He blocks his thoughts, I only ever get little... echoes.” She shook her head wearily, propping her elbows up and cradling her cheeks against her palms. “I don’t even know where to begin with that man.” She cast a pleading glance over at Sarah Jane, her eyes wide and tired, the corners creased and exhausted. “What do I do?”

“Do you love him?” Sarah Jane asked suddenly, bluntly; Donna knew the question like she knew her own soul, but that did nothing to prepare her better for it.

“I...” she swallowed hard, her mouth far too dry, her throat scratchy and sore. “I think...”

Sarah Jane snorted a bit, draining what was left in her teacup. “You think?”

Donna grunted, exasperated, as she hid her face again, her cheeks coloring. “Do any of us not?” she finally muttered, and Sarah Jane’s gaze turned sour, her own sorrow bleeding through her eyes and she averted them, nodding in understanding as she let silence fill the room.

“I started loving him early on,” Donna finally whispered, the sudden pressure behind her eyes and the tightness in her throat overwhelming. “He was my best friend. It just, felt right, being with him. I adored it, adored him,” she let out a trembling breath, slow and halting from her lungs. “He was everything I’d ever wanted.”

“But after all of this...” Donna exhaled heavily, helplessly, with a roll of her eyes. “When I changed, when he changed me; he started looking at me different. Touching me more. He’d hug me whenever he got the chance, like he had to make sure I was real, that I was okay. He watches me like I’m going to break, and at first it made me angry...” she smiled a bit, reminiscent. “But he’s so scared, and it made me think, you know? Made me wonder... just how much he cares. Just how much I care.”

She swallowed, looking up briefly at Sarah Jane before studying her fingernails where they splayed out in a sunburst on the tabletop before her. “And I care more than I should. As a friend. I know I do.”

Sarah Jane was quiet, something knowing in her eyes as Donna finally let out a nervous laugh, her hearts surging up near her collarbone, leaping as she bit her lip anxiously. “God,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m bloody head over heels. Pathetic sap, is what I am.”

Sarah Jane simply grinned at her, a quiet sort of affirmation that held just a tiny bit of trepidation - enough to make Donna’s stomach flip before she picked up, her words somehow wiser than Donna could manage to comprehend, somehow filled with a knowledge of the Doctor that she could only hope to have one day. “Of anyone he’s known, since his home was destroyed,” Sarah Jane began softly, carefully. “You’re the only one he could ever love back. You’re like him; you can give him what he needs.”

Donna felt lightheaded at the observation, at the certainty in Sarah Jane’s voice. So much potential in those simple, honest comments - it made her head spin, the physical distance between her and the Doctor in her mind suddenly pronounced against her psyche.

“I saw him,” Sarah Jane stated almost whimsically. “With Rose.”

Donna sucked in a deep breath, not quite certain she wanted to hear this; not quite sure she wanted to know.

“Before...” Sarah Jane picked up again, smiling to herself as she remembered things that Donna could only imagine with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “When they were still just starting out, I think. She made him so happy.”

“But you,” Sarah Jane added meaningfully, just as Donna wanted to dissolve into her chair, her chest aching. “You make him whole.”

“Watch the way he looks at you,” Sarah Jane added, her eyes dancing with the wisdom of experience, with the dashed hopes of what she’d never been able to have. “Watch him. If he feels the same, which I’m sure he does” she reached over again to squeeze at Donna’s hand once more in reassurance. “But if he feels the same, you’ll see it. You’ll know. His hearts are in his eyes,” she shrugged, as if it was a given. “Always have been.”

Donna nodded numbly, wondering how she might get her own pounding hearts into her eyes, and out of her throat.

--------------------------------------------------

She’d fallen asleep sometime later, curled up in the spare bedroom with a rather nasty headache when the Doctor returned to collect her. She was rather ill with the pounding behind her eyes when she came to, safe and sound in her room inside the TARDIS, the only thing out of place being a box at the foot of her bed.

Blinking frantically, fighting down the pain in her skull in favor of satisfying her curiosity, she flipped open the box, smiling down at what she found inside despite the broken heel of her favorite pair of court shoes - despite the throbbing in her ankle and the sharp searing burn in her head.

Tucked within the package were a pair of trainers, identical to the Doctor’s, white laced and stamped with an “All-Star” seal, gleaming up at her in bright, vibrant purple.


Part Thirteen: The Pulse Of The Universe