Tea/Tess (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
teashadephoenix) wrote2009-06-22 06:44 am
teashadephoenix) wrote2009-06-22 06:44 am
Weekly Drabble Challenge Response: Burn Away
Title: Burn Away
Author: Tess/![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mihane_echo
Rating: Rated A for alcoholic consumption
Word Count: 1294
Spoilers: Through 4.09 Forest of the Dead
Summary: The Doctor's in a bad place after the events at the Library.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to the Beeb and I'm borrowing it to play with. I promise I will return them (marginally) unharmed. ;3
Author's Note: Written (very quickly) for Weekly Drabble Challenge #11 at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
doctor_donna. Prompt was reckless.
She smells alcohol, and the piano's taking a beating.
That's never good.
The Doctor isn't an excessive drinker. The two of them have often had drinks together, sometimes for fun, sometimes not. Donna's not sure what his alcohol habits had been like before she came onto the TARDIS, but she knows that she started the practice of the liquor powwow right after Pompeii. A bottle of rum in the piano room, while the Doctor played.
She likes rum because it burns. It has a delightful little flare to it, sends a flush in her cheeks when she sips it. It's the perfect drink when you're feeling down, despairing, numb from the day's events. It burns away the emptiness after losing a dear child that had barely begun to live, the ache gnawing inside after condemning twenty thousand people to an agonizing, painful death.
She can still remember the miserable, angry look on his face as she poured him that first shot; his music had been frightening and terrible. As his anguish abated, the music became slower and mournful, until finally he had reached some measure of peace and been satisfied.
But he isn't an excessive drinker. The rum is mostly for her, it's her pressure switch; she makes him drink because she thinks he needs it, and he drinks because he doesn't want her to drink alone. He only ever has two or three and then he's finished, and with his metabolism, he mightn't have had any at all.
So the fact that he's drinking alone worries her.
Tonight his music isn't angry, isn't pounding and terrible and manic.
It's unsteady, weak and sad. He isn't even looking at the keys as his fingers flicker across them; his eyes are hollow, staring into something that isn't there, something faraway and in the past.
Donna goes to his side, rests her hands on the top of the piano. Casually, she toys with the bottle of rum, testing the weight of it in her hands; there's about half a bottle left. He's had quite a bit then. It explains the slight color in his cheeks; if he's had enough to get tipsy, he's sincerely upset.
The Doctor glances at her briefly as she replaces the bottle and then when she meets his eyes, drops his gaze to the keys; a moment of despair crosses his features.
Donna purses her lips. "I was going to ask if you'd had a bad day and then I realized that was a stupid question."
Nothing.
She slides around the side, settling on the bench next to him, and the Doctor scoots aside silently to allow her room. With her right hand, Donna presses out a little tune, completely apart from what the Doctor is playing, and he hesitates, losing his place. With an irritated scowl, he rolls his eyes and begins something else. King of Pain, by The Police.
Oh, definitely not a good place, then.
"Do you want to talk?"
"No," he replies softly. "I want to drink my rum and play my piano."
"You never want to drink and you only play the piano so that I know you need to talk," she points out.
"Today is different."
"Yes, today we met a woman from the future."
He sighs, tips his head. "That we did."
"Not just any future or the future in general, but yours." She squints thoughtfully, purses her lips again. "Not that I'm entirely sure how, exactly, she can be from your future when we were standing there in the future. I mean, if she's from the 51st century, isn't she already from the future, and then to be from your future too--"
"Donna..." he says gently. A little wearily, too. She catches her breath, a bit reproachful, and shakes her head.
"Sorry." He plays on for a moment before Donna lets her hand rest on his arm, drawing his attention back to her. "You saved her though, Doctor," she reminds him. "Not the most conventional way to survive, but she's there. She lives on in that world, in CAL."
I have stood here before, inside the pouring rain, he plays. "I know."
"So what's bothering you?"
It takes him a long moment to reply, as though he's weighing his words, hearing them in his head and hating the sound of them; his face visibly darkens and Donna's heart breaks for him. With the world turning circles, running round my brain. Then, he finally grinds out, "She didn't..."
He closes his eyes, and his hands pause on the keys, faltering over I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign, and breathes out, "I was reckless."
Donna narrows her eyes at him, blinking. "Reckless with what?"
He looks at her, his eyes haunted. "With you."
She's a bit stunned for a moment, and before she can say anything else, he's spilling it all. "I sent you away-- and I did it because I thought it was the right thing to do, because it wasn't safe and I just wanted you to be safe because if anything ever happened to you, I..." His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly.
"And then I saw that Node and I just... I thought I'd lost you, I thought you were gone and since she didn't know you..." He glares at the piano, seeing through it, hating whatever it is he's looking at it. "River didn't know you and I thought that was why. I thought that was it."
Donna bites her lip, understanding his feeling but not comprehending the words; she shakes her head. "The Node, what Node?"
The Doctor glances in her direction, but can't bring himself to look at her face. "When you disappeared, I found a Node that had your face. It scared me to death, I thought you were gone."
Donna's breath hitches; she understands now, his guilt, his anguish. Tenderly she slides her hand down his arm to rest over his fist, feels the tension in his wrist and knuckles. He opens his hand and lets her hold it, lets her rub her thumb over the backs of his slender fingers and let that small bit of friction anchor her to him, soothing and reassuring.
And yet...
Donna nods curtly. "You kind of deserve it."
He looks up, eyebrows raised, with a sort of horrified look. "What happened to the empathy?"
"That was when I thought you were moping about what's-her-face," Donna says. Her eyebrows furrow. "Now I know you're just whinging, oh no. You're not getting any sympathy from me, sunshine." She shakes her head. "You lied to me, betrayed my trust and sent me away even though I didn't want to leave you. I'm still mad at you for that."
"Are you?" One corner of his mouth turns up. He flips his hand palm to palm with hers and waggles his fingers. "This is you being mad then?"
"This is passive-aggression," states Donna matter-of-factly. "I'll have you know I'm planning on being bitter and sarcastic for a few days."
He gives her a wan smile. "I'd rather have you here being bitter than gone."
"Then stop being a moron," she says sharply, and his eyes widen in surprise at her severity. "Either take responsibility for your recklessness or be more careful. You're not allowed to be idiotic and begging for sympathy at the same time." She slips her fingers between his and squeezes. "I want to be here for a good long while."
He nods slowly. "Me too."
Donna lets the brief rush of irritation fade, and smiles at him warmly. "You all right, then?"
The Doctor squeezes her hand back, smirks. "I'm always all right."
Donna rolls her eyes as she takes the bottle, sips from it. "Yeah right."
end
Author: Tess/
mihane_echoRating: Rated A for alcoholic consumption
Word Count: 1294
Spoilers: Through 4.09 Forest of the Dead
Summary: The Doctor's in a bad place after the events at the Library.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to the Beeb and I'm borrowing it to play with. I promise I will return them (marginally) unharmed. ;3
Author's Note: Written (very quickly) for Weekly Drabble Challenge #11 at
doctor_donna. Prompt was reckless.She smells alcohol, and the piano's taking a beating.
That's never good.
The Doctor isn't an excessive drinker. The two of them have often had drinks together, sometimes for fun, sometimes not. Donna's not sure what his alcohol habits had been like before she came onto the TARDIS, but she knows that she started the practice of the liquor powwow right after Pompeii. A bottle of rum in the piano room, while the Doctor played.
She likes rum because it burns. It has a delightful little flare to it, sends a flush in her cheeks when she sips it. It's the perfect drink when you're feeling down, despairing, numb from the day's events. It burns away the emptiness after losing a dear child that had barely begun to live, the ache gnawing inside after condemning twenty thousand people to an agonizing, painful death.
She can still remember the miserable, angry look on his face as she poured him that first shot; his music had been frightening and terrible. As his anguish abated, the music became slower and mournful, until finally he had reached some measure of peace and been satisfied.
But he isn't an excessive drinker. The rum is mostly for her, it's her pressure switch; she makes him drink because she thinks he needs it, and he drinks because he doesn't want her to drink alone. He only ever has two or three and then he's finished, and with his metabolism, he mightn't have had any at all.
So the fact that he's drinking alone worries her.
Tonight his music isn't angry, isn't pounding and terrible and manic.
It's unsteady, weak and sad. He isn't even looking at the keys as his fingers flicker across them; his eyes are hollow, staring into something that isn't there, something faraway and in the past.
Donna goes to his side, rests her hands on the top of the piano. Casually, she toys with the bottle of rum, testing the weight of it in her hands; there's about half a bottle left. He's had quite a bit then. It explains the slight color in his cheeks; if he's had enough to get tipsy, he's sincerely upset.
The Doctor glances at her briefly as she replaces the bottle and then when she meets his eyes, drops his gaze to the keys; a moment of despair crosses his features.
Donna purses her lips. "I was going to ask if you'd had a bad day and then I realized that was a stupid question."
Nothing.
She slides around the side, settling on the bench next to him, and the Doctor scoots aside silently to allow her room. With her right hand, Donna presses out a little tune, completely apart from what the Doctor is playing, and he hesitates, losing his place. With an irritated scowl, he rolls his eyes and begins something else. King of Pain, by The Police.
Oh, definitely not a good place, then.
"Do you want to talk?"
"No," he replies softly. "I want to drink my rum and play my piano."
"You never want to drink and you only play the piano so that I know you need to talk," she points out.
"Today is different."
"Yes, today we met a woman from the future."
He sighs, tips his head. "That we did."
"Not just any future or the future in general, but yours." She squints thoughtfully, purses her lips again. "Not that I'm entirely sure how, exactly, she can be from your future when we were standing there in the future. I mean, if she's from the 51st century, isn't she already from the future, and then to be from your future too--"
"Donna..." he says gently. A little wearily, too. She catches her breath, a bit reproachful, and shakes her head.
"Sorry." He plays on for a moment before Donna lets her hand rest on his arm, drawing his attention back to her. "You saved her though, Doctor," she reminds him. "Not the most conventional way to survive, but she's there. She lives on in that world, in CAL."
I have stood here before, inside the pouring rain, he plays. "I know."
"So what's bothering you?"
It takes him a long moment to reply, as though he's weighing his words, hearing them in his head and hating the sound of them; his face visibly darkens and Donna's heart breaks for him. With the world turning circles, running round my brain. Then, he finally grinds out, "She didn't..."
He closes his eyes, and his hands pause on the keys, faltering over I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign, and breathes out, "I was reckless."
Donna narrows her eyes at him, blinking. "Reckless with what?"
He looks at her, his eyes haunted. "With you."
She's a bit stunned for a moment, and before she can say anything else, he's spilling it all. "I sent you away-- and I did it because I thought it was the right thing to do, because it wasn't safe and I just wanted you to be safe because if anything ever happened to you, I..." His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly.
"And then I saw that Node and I just... I thought I'd lost you, I thought you were gone and since she didn't know you..." He glares at the piano, seeing through it, hating whatever it is he's looking at it. "River didn't know you and I thought that was why. I thought that was it."
Donna bites her lip, understanding his feeling but not comprehending the words; she shakes her head. "The Node, what Node?"
The Doctor glances in her direction, but can't bring himself to look at her face. "When you disappeared, I found a Node that had your face. It scared me to death, I thought you were gone."
Donna's breath hitches; she understands now, his guilt, his anguish. Tenderly she slides her hand down his arm to rest over his fist, feels the tension in his wrist and knuckles. He opens his hand and lets her hold it, lets her rub her thumb over the backs of his slender fingers and let that small bit of friction anchor her to him, soothing and reassuring.
And yet...
Donna nods curtly. "You kind of deserve it."
He looks up, eyebrows raised, with a sort of horrified look. "What happened to the empathy?"
"That was when I thought you were moping about what's-her-face," Donna says. Her eyebrows furrow. "Now I know you're just whinging, oh no. You're not getting any sympathy from me, sunshine." She shakes her head. "You lied to me, betrayed my trust and sent me away even though I didn't want to leave you. I'm still mad at you for that."
"Are you?" One corner of his mouth turns up. He flips his hand palm to palm with hers and waggles his fingers. "This is you being mad then?"
"This is passive-aggression," states Donna matter-of-factly. "I'll have you know I'm planning on being bitter and sarcastic for a few days."
He gives her a wan smile. "I'd rather have you here being bitter than gone."
"Then stop being a moron," she says sharply, and his eyes widen in surprise at her severity. "Either take responsibility for your recklessness or be more careful. You're not allowed to be idiotic and begging for sympathy at the same time." She slips her fingers between his and squeezes. "I want to be here for a good long while."
He nods slowly. "Me too."
Donna lets the brief rush of irritation fade, and smiles at him warmly. "You all right, then?"
The Doctor squeezes her hand back, smirks. "I'm always all right."
Donna rolls her eyes as she takes the bottle, sips from it. "Yeah right."
end
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But the best line:
"I'll have you know I'm planning on being bitter and sarcastic for a few days."
Of course she will!
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And a little for bitter, as well, I think. xD He's going to be getting dirty looks for a couple of days.
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*saves to mems*
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"Are you?" One corner of his mouth turns up. He flips his hand palm to palm with hers and waggles his fingers. "This is you being mad then?" I love this, I could picture it so clearly :)
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And he does, doesn't he? On the one hand, I totally get why he does what he does (in both SitL/FotD and JE) but at the same time, he's nuts if he doesn't think she's going to yell at him (and I would too!) It's part of their dynamic that he's going to be protective of her and she's going to smack him around a bit for it, and is why I love 'em. ;)
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The words are overwhelming, fantastic and pinpoint the scene so wonderfully!
I can see it as if it were an episodes ending; Donna's little eyeroll before she sips from the bottle, then the credits roll.
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I rather like that image, the big old DW logo scrolling over after Donna's sip of rum. xD
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I'm not fond of the Library two-parter, but that bit where he sees the Node with her face tears me up cause it's all on his face.
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I just love that about Donna, she can't see someone in pain (especially not someone she cares about) and leave it. She's all about the 'get it the hell out of your system, Spaceman, we have things to do and places to see.' ;B
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These are my two favorite lines:
"This is passive-aggression," states Donna matter-of-factly. "I'll have you know I'm planning on being bitter and sarcastic for a few days."
He gives her a wan smile. "I'd rather have you here being bitter than gone."
They actually say quite a bit.
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As if i couldn't be any more in love with him, you had to go and make him play the piano, didn't you? I've got this vision of a lovely black Steinway grand and him sitting there looking as miserable as he did when he stood in the rain after JE. You have broken my heart, i hope you know that.
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Poor guy, I torture him so. ;3
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Yes, but you do it with love, so that's ok.