Boy, you lot, lucky you are. 2:00 in the morning, this little plot bunny hits me quite suddenly. I always liked to think that while The Doctor barely managed to function without Rose, Rose was barely managing to function without The Doctor. And I'm quite sure that a grief like the one they both shared would most definitely take its toll on you not only emotionaly, but phsyically as well. And since I love Donna, this is her point of view. It probably won't make much sense, but there will be a second part to explain how we got to this part, so just go with it.
Recommended listening: Breathing Space by X-Ray Dog, which this title happens to come from.
I don't own DW, so please enjoy and please review
Donna had been so used to seeing The Doctor a miserable mess (when he thought no one was looking) that it hadn't occurred to her that Rose, who had vowed to stay with him forever, would be just as devastated by their separation as well. In fact, looking over the blonde now, Donna could see similar physical features that marked someone still grieving. Like The Doctor, Rose had dark bags under her eyes, and was pale (so pale, that like The Doctor, Donna thought of her as a walking corpse), and that hollow, empty look in her eyes. But what really tipped Donna was off, was that in the fifteen minutes she had spent in the young woman's presence, Rose constantly flexed her left hand, like she wasn't used to it being…empty. Like she wasn't used to not holding a certain Time Lord's hand.
Donna knew this, because on many many occasions, The Doctor would reach out his right hand, wiggling his fingers, before slowing dropping it when he realized that the hand he was expecting wasn't there.
Those were the days when Donna was sure he was going to throw himself out of the TARDIS and into space, hoping to end his life (or at least burn through his remaining regenerations) and finally be with Rose in a sense.
Looking over at the long-lost companion, Donna wondered if Rose's family went through the same fears—wondering if one day they were going to wake up to a cold, lifeless Rose, with a smile on her dead lips because she knew in death, she would finally be with The Doctor.
It was like being on suicide watch 24/7, never able to really relax, terrified that if you took your eyes off them for even a second, it would be too late.
Donna Noble shivered.
What must it be like, to love someone like that? To totally devote yourself, every bone in your body, every blood cell pumping through your veins, every beat of your heart, every breath escaping your lungs, to one person. To erase everyone you had ever come into contact with from your mind, just so you could made sure you would have the room to store the memories you had of that one person. To make that one person the center of your universe, so that if someone were to crack you open, they would find that one person sitting in the core of your being like they belonged there.
But it wasn't just that. It was also an emotional connection, an unbreakable, unshakable bond. To be so close to someone that you were able to feel their presence, even if they weren't in the same room as you. To know that no matter what, they would always be there, never having any fear of them straying or that they would leave you because they couldn't handle it.
To always have their hand to hold. To have that sensation that even if things were going pear-shaped, the feel of their hand in yours told you that things would be alright in the end, because they were right there beside you. To not need anybody, because you would always have each other.
To have that ripped away from you, in the cruelest way imaginable, to suddenly never being able to see that one person again, never hold them, never laugh with them, never run with them, never love them again, after spending two and a half years (in a linear fashion—God only knows how much time they actually spent together) with them always in the next room…
Donna wasn't sure she would be able to pick herself back up.
She knew the only reason The Doctor kept going was because he knew that even if he could never see Rose again, she was still there. And because of that, everything he did, was in her name. Every planet they saved, every war they ended, every bloody kitten they had rescued from up in a tree (and it had happened, twice) was all done in the name of Rose Tyler.
Looking at Rose now, Donna now saw that being separated from one another had slowly, but surely, been killing them from the inside. They were both dying of a broken-heart. And it was worse for The Doctor, who was suffering twice over. It was at these moments that Donna never envied him for having two hearts. It might've saved him in the past, but now, all they were, were two organs slowly bleeding themselves dry, beating slow and sluggish like a human's, each beat bearing her name: Rose Tyler. Rose Tyler.
She was sure that Rose's heart beat out the same slow cadence of her lover's name, tattooing his name against her skin that you were able to see it from the outside: Doctor. Doctor.
Donna was brought out of her thoughts by Jack's nudge. He was grinning and she was reminded of why they were standing in front of the Millennium Center, in Cardiff in the freezing weather. "You're going to want to see this," he said with a grin, beyond excited.
As he said this, the TARDIS wheezed into existence and Donna watched as Rose (who had been pacing as she waited for Jack and his "surprise") froze and look over at the spot, disbelief and hope and joy written all over her face. Donna watched as the wooden blue door opened and The Doctor stepped out, looking like the world had taken residence on his shoulders. He seemed every bit his nine hundred years of living, his grief over his lost lover still taking over his handsome features.
It really was amazing to witness, as they both caught sight of each other, The Doctor stiffened once he saw Rose, before squinting, like maybe he was imaging it. Rose took a couple of shaky steps towards him and when he realized that it was indeed Rose, his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, his lips parted in shock. His feet seemed more than able to take him to Rose, for he was moving before his brain caught up with his body.
And then they were running, full steam towards each other, wide ecstatic grins on their faces, laughter escaping them, and when Rose slammed into The Doctor, Donna swore that for a moment, it looked like they were both floating in the air, their happiness making them weightless. They stood there, Rose pressing herself against him so tight, it looked like they were trying to merge into one person, so they would never be without each other. It lasted only for a moment before The Doctor pulled away. There wasn't nearly as much contact as he wanted, so as Rose wrapped her arms around his neck, he grabbed the back of her thighs, and with a strength Donna didn't think him capable of, he lifted Rose, who wrapped her legs around his waist. Now he seemed satisfied as he wrapped his arms around her tighter, his face buried her neck, her hands holding him to her.
Donna doubted either of them felt the cold. In fact, she would say that this was the first time either of them felt warm. She felt Jack wrap his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. "Donna Noble, I'd like for you to meet two good friends of mine, Rose Tyler and The Doctor. And as you can see, they can't live without each other."
Too right, Jack, Donna thought with a grin, too right
The reunion we were totally robbed of.