#i haven’t drawn susie (regular) (ordinary) (original) in a while….

[zombvibes]

susie head shot doodle number 194661748919

[raywritesthings]

Lost in Translation 1/?

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary: In a universe where people are born with the name of the person destined for them displayed on their skin, intergalactic soulmates can be rather difficult to navigate. AO3 link

The Time Lords told their young about soulmate markings the same way they told their young about everything else. Dispassionately, matter-of-factly, and with a sense that it was best not to dwell on something so base and trivial.

A quirk of biology, thought to be a leftover trait from the time of the Carrionites. Words, after all, had been their power, though there was certainly strength behind High Gallifreyan and even Circular Gallifreyan texts.

Neither a quirk of biology nor any written form of Gallifreyan could explain Theta Sigma’s marking, however.

“There are clearly four distinct symbols, though one repeats, you see?” He twisted in place to be able to look back at Koschei while also pushing the collar of his robe to the side. It wasn’t proper protocol to show someone else your marking, but children broke the rule all the time, even at the Academy.

“And they’ve always looked like that?”

“Of course they have. They’d be even more remarkable if they’d changed, I daresay.”

“Do you like to think they make you special?” Koschei drawled.

Theta flushed. “Well, no. Not special necessarily. Merely different.”

“You needn’t any help with being different.” He couldn’t very well disagree with his friend on that count.

Theta did protest, however, as Koschei stood and walked across the room. “Aren’t you going to show me yours?”

“Why should I?” His friend asked loftily. “They’re pointless to us Time Lords. I’m sure we’ll have evolved past them in a matter of generations. Who knows, maybe your nonsense symbols are the first sign.”

Years later, they were both deeply involved in their studies, and anything else hardly bore thinking about. At least, that had been the impression Theta was working under, only for Koschei to march into the room with no preamble one day while he was in the middle of testing his newest invention.

“I’ve found your symbols.”

“My what?”

“Your soulmate marking symbols,” he enunciated as though he thought Theta was being particularly thick today. Koschei set a thick tome down on his workbench. “They’re from a primitive language originating on the planet Sol Three. We’re going to be covering it along with several others next term.”

Theta was hardly concerned with the subject of next term’s classes, however. “And this language has a word with all of those symbols? In the exact order?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what does it mean? Out with it!” He urged.

Koschei rolled his eyes. “It simply means ‘lady’, silly. How very foolish of you. Not only could you not manage a soulmate marking in the proper language, you couldn’t even manage a name.”

Theta’s face felt very hot and he wished he wasn’t at the Academy at all, but back at the barn.

Koschei hardly seemed to notice, instead looking very pleased with himself for figuring out the mystery. That was true Time Lord arrogance, always the need to be clever.

“And what, may I ask, were you doing looking for my symbols, hm?” Theta demanded, if only to wipe the smirk off his face. “Thought you said they were nonsense.”

“Well — they are. I wasn’t looking for them. I was reading ahead in the course material. Obviously.” Koschei scoffed, but it didn’t sound as convincing as his usual.

“Obviously,” said Theta anyway. “Well then, it hardly bares discussing, does it?”

They never brought it up, nor did Theta Sigma bring it up to another person, ever again.

—-

To humanity, soulmate marks were a little slice of fairy tale in an ordinary, mundane world. Parents cooed over the name their baby was gifted at birth, perhaps picked a birthname they thought might sound nice together, then got caught up in the swirl of nappy changings, first steps, first words, teething, and so on. When the child was old enough to understand, that was when they were told about the mark — though that age varied depending on the parents, of course.

But Donna Noble had always understood. She wasn’t like other babies who were given a gift at birth. Donna Noble was given a curse.

The interlocking circles that spanned almost the expanse of her back were just another oddity, as if it wasn’t bad enough being ginger and never skinny, not even during her growth spurt. Dad and Gramps always had a good chortle over how mum had fainted straightaway at the sight of her mark.

“What is it, some kind of graffiti? My daughter’s got some street tag on her back, oh God,” was her refrain every time she glimpsed it. Donna learned to wear cardis and jackets and shawls, even to the pool.

“Now, now, Sylvia, I’m sure that’s not it,” her dad responded in a well-worn way every time, somehow striking the balance between exasperated and fond. Donna wouldn’t have believed in soulmates at all if she didn’t watch her parents somehow stay in love despite, well, everything.

Her dad was real good about the whole mark thing, really. “Do you want it removed, love?” He asked her one night near the end of primary school, rubbing the spot in soothing circles as Donna cried into her pillow. “People get that done, these days.”

“Would it hurt?” She asked in a small voice, lifting her face slightly to be understood.

“Well, I imagine it would a little. But we’d be right there, your mum and I, and your grandfather.”

Donna thought for a long moment. She imagined it would hurt an awful lot, and there was the question of money. Everyone at school already knew about it anyway, thanks to the girls who snickered behind her back in the locker rooms. There’d be no point now.

“They’re jealous,” her Gramps insisted, sitting in his chair on the hill. “You’ve got something they haven’t, sweetheart, and that makes you special.”

“But I don’t want it,” she replied, her knees drawn up to her chest as she sat on the grass beside him.

He chuckled, placing an arm around her shoulders. “Well, no no one asks for what they’re given. It’s their choice whether to make the most of it or not. You’ll see, love. One day, I’m sure of it. You’ll find your — well, whoever he is.”

Why was she the one who had to have it all muffed up? Oh sure, Susie from maths had a Tom; he’d be hard to find, but at least it was something. Some Tom out there in the world who could share everything with Susie if they ever met. Be her closest friend, her support, the one person who understood her completely. Donna didn’t even have the luxury of pretending.

There were some, people said, who weren’t born with anyone’s name marked upon their skin. They were said to be happy, that they never felt a lack. Sometimes Donna wished that she were like that; other times, the thought occurred to her that someone like her would never be good enough on their own going nowhere as she was, and imagining being alone in the universe her whole life terrified her. But she was as good as, wasn’t she?

Stupid circles. It wasn’t Chinese characters, or Japanese, or Korean; it wasn’t Arabic; it wasn’t even bloody hieroglyphics!

—-

When the Doctor first married, his wife trailed curious fingers over the old symbols but never asked. They had that understanding about each other. It was comfortable, it was easy. They were good to each other, and for each other, so his old teachers often remarked.

It was not the life he dreamt of, either when he closed his eyes or when he gazed up at the orange sky from his place lying on the red grass — his little Arkytior with him now, not Koschei — but he could not find it in himself to regret it. Not when he knew a hand in his was the only abatement to his loneliness, his sense of not belonging on Gallifrey, he was likely to ever receive.

And then he and Arkytior, now Susan — Rose, he had told her, was the proper translation of her name, but she had been adamant in choosing her own, the stubborn child — were no longer on Gallifrey, instead lost amongst the stars in a rickety Type 40 TARDIS he barely knew what to do with.

It was not until his travels took him to Earth with increasing regularity that he realized the symbols — D o n n a — were not just a word. They had also been adopted as a name. Humans named their infants lady sometimes. How curious.

Curiouser still, was the idea that he had been given the name of a human to wear. Him, a Time Lord, who lived for centuries and did perhaps grow old but changed rather than died. He had children and grandchildren, yet was not even middle-aged! What if he should meet this Donna tomorrow? How much of his life could he reasonably expect her to be a part of? A century? A handful of decades? It not only seemed foolish, it seemed cruel.

The Doctor did not seek out any of these Donnas, not like he might have in his true youth. Not when Susan left with her David — he hadn’t had the heart to check her marking; he did not wish to know what had her so taken with the human — not when Ian and Barbara left, not when he continued to travel and meet new humans with all variety of names that hurt him badly enough when they all in turn took their leave of him.

Not even after the Time War, when he was left with nothing. Not a people, not a family, not an other half. The temptation beckoned, but what other person could wish to share themselves with a monster like him now?

Instead, he found a new Rose. Different in many aspects to his precious granddaughter, but still he was unaccountably fond of the pink and yellow human who brought some of the old joy of traveling the stars back to his weary eyes. Despite some hiccups, such as accidentally taking her from her home for an entire year, she seemed to like him a great deal as well.

The Doctor did not realize just how much, unfortunately, until he lost her too.

“Wait,” Rose said, clearly struggling not to break down on her end of the connection he had created to say a proper goodbye to her on the parallel world. “Wait, before you- before you’re gone, I need to know. Is it you?”

“Is what me?”

“The name I’ve got. Is it yours?” To his dismay she turned around, unzipping her jacket with the clear intent of showing him her mark. “Yours is mine, isn’t it? I love you.”

“Oh, Rose Tyler,” he sighed, his hearts sinking. She flickered, then faded from view as the connection weakened and then died, not before he glimpsed markings in a twenty-six character alphabet clear as day.

What had he done? All that time, had he led her to believe — oh no. No wonder Jackie and Mickey had often viewed him so poorly.

This soulmate business truly was horrid and pointless, his old friend had been right all along. The Doctor resolved then and there to forget the entire thing. Not just forget, he would actively ignore and work against it. He could tattoo over the name like the Corsair used to do, make sure every companion knew corresponding soulmate markings between species was an impossibility — he’d told worse lies. Do everything in his power to halt the idea in its tracks before it even began to germinate.

Then he turned around to find a ginger bride standing in his TARDIS.

—-

Donna Noble flitted from relationship to relationship after school. Between being a temp and her own unique situation, nothing ever felt like a good fit. Not to mention, all the times she was dumped soon as her time was up at this or that office. She was just practice, her mum always said. People wanted to be able to impress their soulmate on the first go.

It would be just the same at her new job, her mother harangued her as she applied, got the assignment, and prepared for her first day at H.C. Clements. No one would be taking any special interest in her except as a cheap date.

But then Lance Bennett from Human Resources smiled at her across the office and gestured to the coffee machine. He was nice, friendly, and certainly her type. Basically, a dream come true, and Donna had given up dreaming a long time ago.

She couldn’t imagine why the Head of Human Resources at a posh company like this would be interested in her of all people. Unless...

“This isn’t cause you’ve got a Donna you’re looking out for, is it? Am I the first one you’ve met?” Donna demanded over the third coffee in as many days, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Lance pulled a face. “Oh, I don’t put any stock in that rubbish.”

Her heart leapt. “Really?”

“Why would I tie myself down to someone just because of their name? It’s nonsense. I could be totally wrong about them being ‘the one’, couldn’t I?”

“Yeah, exactly!” Donna enthused. “Unless, you know, it’s like something real specific. My friend, her parents stuck her with Nerys. Said it’d be unique enough for her soulmate to find her right away. Well they haven’t yet!” She laughed, and Lance smiled at her and Donna felt so much better about this, about everything.

Maybe Lance wasn’t meant to be her ‘one’. But if neither of them minded, what was the harm?

She couldn’t wait for him to pop the question. What if he changed his mind? What if he met someone off the street with the name she refused to even look at? Donna didn’t get lucky like this. It was now or never if she didn’t want to end up the old maid her mother said she was destined to be. Who cared about destiny? She was choosing to love Lance.

And he’d said yes. The wedding was being planned, her mum flying into a frenzy of activity all of a sudden. Even Nerys agreed to be maid of honor, though she claimed it was due to needing to be there to believe it. They booked St. Mary’s and a hall for the reception, and Donna went for a dress fitting. She made sure to pick one that, between the veil and her hair, would cover up the old mark. A wedding dress fitting, it was actually happening!

Her only regret was Gramps coming down with the Spanish Flu. Of course she urged him to go to hospital, but she would have loved to have him there with her mum and dad. Part of her considered delaying the whole thing, just by a week to see if he’d be any better by then, forget the honeymoon in Morocco. Lance assured her that they would be filming it anyway and he’d see the whole thing, and that calmed her down a bit.

Of course, she was a whole different bundle of nerves the day of the wedding. Donna couldn’t believe this was happening to her! Each step she took down the aisle was a step closer to the rest of her life. She was beaming ear to ear, practically glowing!

No, hang on, she really was glowing. Donna stopped in the middle of the aisle in shock as she lit up bright gold. There was a strange sensation, it almost felt like an invisible pull on her. Everyone was staring, and it wasn’t because she was the bride.

Donna screamed.

She blinked and suddenly found herself standing in the strangest room she’d ever seen. Everyone from the wedding was gone. Instead, staring across at her in bewilderment was the skinniest bloke in a suit she’d ever had the misfortune to meet.

“What?”

“Who’re you?” Asked Donna.

“But.” That was it, he didn’t actually have an ending to that.

“Where am I?” She demanded next.

He switched right back to, “What?”

“What the hell is this place!”

“What?”