So I never really thought about it before, but do you think she wears that color a lot without realizing why she loves it so much? Well shit. I have made myself even more sad now….sorry.
thing is I don’t think she ever quite forgot. a great mind like that. some of the details kept bleeding through.
Donna’s nails are always painted, and it is always that shade of blue. It is a dusky kind of blue that she can’t name. Shaun tries to read the name on the bottle but she says that it’s wrong.
Donna always looks at the sky. Her eyes are always heavenward, always filled with awe, but never disbelief. She holds the calm serenity of a person with assurance beyond all else. Shaun tries to wrap his around the discovery of new planets but Donna always seems to know about them before he does. When BBC announces a planet being deemed Gallifrey she looks up. For a second she looks as if she knows something that carries the weight of the world. For a second Shaun thinks she is going to get one of her blinding headaches. It is gone though, in less than a second.
Donna is always clever; she is always brilliant. Donna passes it off as finally getting some smarts for all the good school did her. Shaun knows that is not it, though. Donna has always been smart, but now she is brilliant. Wilf tries to expose her to more of the world, and while she halfheartedly resists, it is because she is unimpressed with what she does see. A honeymoon in Barcelona has her smiling reminiscently, like she has seen it and done it all before. Maybe she has, Shaun thinks as Donna (unconsciously) congratulates a vendor in flawless Spanish on his new child because she can see the dried food on his shoulder.
Donna never holds hands. She just does not do it. If she worries about losing Shaun in a crowd she grabs his sleeve or the side of his coat or sometimes even his collar. The few times he tries to take her hand she flinches. She lets him at their wedding but it does not feel right. Shaun can see that, so he stops trying.
Donna never crosses a shadow. For all the pragmatism she has gained she does not cross shadows. She never told Shaun about a fear of the dark, nor can Wilf recall one. “Vashta Nerada” she mutters one time, as if it explains everything. To her, it might, Shaun thinks.
Donna always knows Shaun loves her. It is a foreign thought to her, forever thinking of herself as just taking up space in the universe. With every night spent on that hill with Wilf, though, that changes. She becomes more open to the world and herself and her place therein. When Shaun first met her she was suspicious of his bringing her coffee, for a reason that was never revisited. Now, though, she accepts his compliments with minimal fuss, a gentle graciousness, and a hint of a blush.
Donna still owns one pinstripe suit. She thought she got rid of it but when she finds it buried in her closet she cries in relief. She does not know why and she does not question it. She wears it whenever possible, or at least the jacket, even though it is looser on her than before.
Donna always runs. She never had a penchant for it before but she loves it. There is something familiar in running. It might be like a solace to her, when she can think to herself and hold her ipod tightly in her hand.
Donna is always compassionate. She might be the kindest person in the whole of creation, Shaun thinks. For the self-centered front she puts up around her friends she is endlessly empathetic. He sees it. He sees it every time she comforts a child. He sees it every time she gives unyielding trust to the oddest, dumbest, shadiest and ugliest of characters. Donna Noble has room for the whole wide universe in her heart, Shaun thinks.
Donna always cries. Sometimes it is without warning or reason. When she tries to explain she becomes distant, like the universe is trying to tell her what to say. All she can ever get out is that there are people who do not have the luxury of crying. Donna Noble cries for those who cannot, Shaun thinks in amazement. She cries for fathers who lose their daughters, and for the people who are silently miserable because it is their place. These are the people for whom she feels. In all the numbness and emptiness of her own life, she always has time and emotions to spare for them.
Donna always knows something is missing. She knows she has forgotten something but it never feels like something she can mourn. She cannot mourn a ghost anymore than she can silence an echo. She knows she might never be complete without…it…him. She has Shaun, though; Shaun, who brings her forget-me-nots even though she cries because he knows she loves them anyway. Shaun: who learns French for her because there is something about it that makes her eyes dance fondly. Shaun always tells her she is the most important woman in the world to him. They both know that is a gross understatement.
Donna is always the most important woman in the whole wide universe.
Remember when Donna forced the 10th Doctor to save a family from the fires of Pompeii?
THIS WAS WHY!
This was me while watching EVERY episode of Murder, She Wrote as a child.