I wrote this for a school assignment today (a short story about grief or loneliness) and this is what came of it. This is a fanfiction of Doctor Who concerning the Doctor and Donna, and the Doctor-Donna. I had to look up the script to see what exactly they said, so you might recognize the dialogue.
*SPOILER* Contains MAJOR spoilers for Journey’s End. Please don’t read if you haven’t seen it, because I don’t want to be the one who spoiled it for you. That would hurt me tremendously. So… yeah. Also, be warned now: this story contains major angst. Major. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
He tries so hard not to cry in front of Donna. She’s his best friend—but he can’t live with her, and yet he can’t live without her. This is going to be very difficult. He can already tell.
Donna is rambling. She’s rambling like he used to ramble, like he does ramble. But he knows she can’t stop. “—Charlie Brown, no, he’s not real, he’s fiction, friction, fixing, mixing, Rickston, Brixton—OW!” She stops, puts a hand to her forehead. There is pain in her eyes, and fear.
“Do you know what’s happening?” he says quietly.
“Yeah.” She blinks several times and looks up at him.
He struggles to put his thoughts into words. “There’s never been a Human Time-Lord metacrisis before now. And—“ Gulps— “you know why.”
“Because there can’t be.” There is a resigned look in her eyes, like she knows what must happen next, but she just can’t accept it, and neither can he.
He steps closer to her, around the console, and she backs away as if she’s terrified of him. Terrified of what has to happen.
“I want to stay!” Donna sobs.
“Look at me,” he says.
She does. They are both crying now, he can’t help it. “I was gonna be with ya, forever,” she whispers.
“I know.” He is tempted to say more, but she opens her mouth again, and words come spilling out, words filled with sorrow and grief and hurt and pain.
“Rest of my life. Travelling. In the Tardis. The DoctorDonna. Oh, but I can’t go back. Don’t make me go back. Doctor. Please!” Terror is in her eyes and she backs further away from him, almost scrambling. “No!”
He tries hard not to cry any more than he already is and tries to smile. “Donna. Oh, Donna Noble. I’m so sorry. But we had the best of times. The best…” He pauses to get a grip on himself, so his voice won’t shake with his final farewell. “Goodbye.” And he forces his fingers to her temples and closes his eyes.
“No, no, no,” she pleads, trying to push him away. “No! Don’t make me go! No!” The last cry is a little scream as she falls, unconcious, to the grated flooring.
Now he can let the tears stream freely down his face, because there is no one here to see or hear him. There is no one to put an arm around him, to give him a hug, tell him everything’s going to be all right. There will be no one else.
Because he’s ruined everyone’s lives. Ruined. Rose, trapped in an alternate universe. Martha, family torn apart. Astrid, dead. Jack—not dead, at least not permanently. And now Donna, who would never be able to see him again, never go anywhere with him again, never talk to him again. She could never remember.
As he slips his arms under Donna to carry her out of the Tardis, he resolves to never have another companion as long as he lives. He will never bring anyone into his life again, and he will never endanger anyone else.
He will always be alone.