The road less travelled...

Title: Nightmares 3/8
Author: katherine_b
Rating: PG
Characters: Donna and the Doctor (Ten)
Spoilers: All of Season 4 up to the end of Forest of the Dead
Summary: Donna has nightmares about the Doctor.

Part III

“Right, good,” Donna says briskly to herself, trying not to think how helpless the Doctor looks, as she places his right arm by his side and moves around the bed so that she can get to his injuries.

Going back to the cupboard, she picks up the box and carries it over to a small table on wheels, which she draws close to the bed. Taking each item out, she removes the wrapping that is keeping it clean and sets it somewhere that she can reach it when she needs to, unable to help feeling as if she’s taking part in a twisted episode of ER.

She finds a pair of sharp scissors at the bottom of the box and cuts the fabric of his jacket sleeve up to the collar, peeling it away. His shirt takes even less time and then she can see the ugly bulge at the top of his ribcage that shouldn’t be there.

Putting his dislocated shoulder back in takes some effort, but she manages it in the end and it slides into place with a dull click. She’s thankful that he can’t feel any pain she might be causing. She raises the head of the bed into a more upright position so that she can strap his arm in a supportive position across his chest, his left hand almost touching his right collarbone.

She’s checking that the strapping isn’t too tight that it’s stopping blood from getting to his raised fingers when his head rolls down so that his cheek is resting against her hand.

“It’s all right, Doctor,” she says softly, despite knowing he won’t hear her, and resettles his head so that it’s turned slightly to one side, resting against the pillow.

He really does look ludicrously young as he lies there, his lips parted, breath whistling softly in and out. She’s pleased to see that there’s faint colour in his cheeks and his freckles no longer look so numerous. In fact, he looks remarkably peaceful and she wonders if he’s ever slept so well before.

She can’t quite help the way she presses a light kiss to his forehead.

“Sweet dreams,” she murmurs.

She turns her attention to his leg and looks up at the images that the TARDIS has provided of the broken and dislocated bones. She has to cut the converse off his foot, as removing it the normal way, even taking out the laces, would risk further damage to his ankle. She also slits up the leg of his trousers so that she can treat his fractured shinbone.

The ankle is more difficult to fix than the shoulder was, particularly as she has to be careful how she holds his leg so as not to worsen the damage. Once the bone has finally slid back into place, she straps it as firmly as she can without cutting off the circulation in his foot and then turns her attention to his leg.

Thankfully the TARDIS has supplied a splint and not plaster, which would be messy and fiddly. She waits for the images of his leg to update themselves and then, satisfied that nothing’s out of place, slides the splint under his leg, doing up the fastenings.

Sighing, she steps back from the bed to look up at the images of the Doctor’s injuries. The box contains no further bandages or other forms of treatment and she glances over her shoulder at the cupboard to see if she’s missed anything. It’s empty and she guesses that this is the TARDIS telling her that there’s nothing more she can do.

As if to confirm this, the various images on the large screen disappear. For the first time, Donna notices blankets folded on a nearby shelf and she picks one up, shaking it out and feeling that it’s warm to touch. She tucks it gently around the upper half of his body before repeating the process with another one for his legs, making sure that she can get to his foot if necessary.

Throwing away the plastic wrapping from the bandage, Donna gets herself a drink of water and leans against the small sink in the room while she sips it. She looks up at herself in the small mirror and her eyes widen as she realises that she’s got a number of dark marks on her face. Grabbing some paper towel, she wets it and rubs at her skin, but it doesn’t remove all of them and, now that she thinks about it, they’re actually a bit sore. Presumably bruises.

She’s about to go and get some ice when the man on the bed gives a faint moan and she all but drops the glass as she darts back to his side.

“Doctor? Are you awake?”

Freeing his right hand from the blanket cocoon, she entwines her fingers with his and uses her free hand to support his cheek.

“Doctor?” she asks again. “Can you hear me? It’s Donna.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, and she can see his eyes moving beneath closed lids, lashes fluttering as he does so.

“It’s all right,” she assures him, gently squeezing his fingers. “I’m here.”

His hand moves slightly in hers, and she takes a firmer hold to reassure him of her presence. His head is wobbling slightly beneath her hand as if he’s trying lift it. She moves her hand to lower the bed-head so that it won’t be such an effort for him, but has to chuckle when his head droops forward as soon as she stops helping him to hold it up.

She lets go of his hand to support his head back against the pillow and finds that his eyes are open when he’s lying properly, although the heavy lids and drowsy blinks suggest that the sedative is still affecting him.

“Doctor?” she prompts him, leaning closer. “Are you waking up now?”

“No,” he mutters, a small smile on his face, his eyes travelling sleepily up to meet her gaze. “Dreaming. Nice angel. Red hair. Br… Brill…” He falls silent, apparently unable to make his numb lips shape the word.

“I hope this is me we’re talking about,” she teases, smoothing his brown locks.

“So tired,” he sighs, his breath warm for once against her face as she leans in to catch the words.

“That’s all right.” She strokes a hand down his cheek, smoothing his sideburn with her thumb. “You don’t have to stay awake if you don’t want to.”

“Y-you won’t… go?” he pleads, his eyes widening, although she can see it’s a struggle for him to make the muscles react.

“I promise,” she whispers in his ear. “I won’t go.”

He attempts to nod, but clearly her words have convinced him, because his eyes have slid shut before his head does more than move down a few inches. His lips part with a soft exhalation of breath a moment later and his body relaxes visibly against the mattress.

Donna tucks the blankets more firmly around him and then turns away from the bed again. The door of the infirmary is standing open, but she’s surprised to find another door has appeared in the opposite wall.

“What are you up to now?” she asks the TARDIS, being careful to speak quietly for fear of waking the Doctor.

Crossing the room, she opens the door, grinning at the sight of her favourite kitchen.

“Ah, this is because I’m looking after him, is it?” she says as she enters the room. “Well, I’d do it anyway, as I think you know, but thank you.”

The kettle on the stove is already boiling and she moves to rescues it before all of the water boils away. A mug is waiting on the bench, a teabag sitting in it, and Donna blesses the TARDIS as she pours the water over the tea. The aroma hits her at once and she smiles. Peppermint tea definitely sounds like something she needs right now.

Taking a seat at the table from which she can still see the Doctor’s still form, she sighs as she lets herself relax. Her head is pounding as she sips her tea and Donna rests her elbows on the table, sinking her face into her hands and allowing herself to think about what has just taken place.

She doesn’t think for long, though, because she finds that she’s aching all over, most of all her back, presumably from her hard landing on the TARDIS floor. She’s also incredibly tired, but she doesn’t want to give in to her urge to sleep at that moment, as she wants to be awake if the Doctor needs her.

Pushing the chair away from the table and leaving her tea behind, she goes back into the medical bay and checks that he’s still asleep before heading out into the corridor and then up to the console room.

The room still looks like a disaster area, although she’s intrigued to see that both the jumpseat and the bars padded in foam are back where they belong, as if the accident never happened. The only objects still lying along one wall of the TARDIS are those that weren’t tied down.

“What are you up to, hey?” she demands of the ship, going over to the console and moving the monitor so that she can see where they are.

Strangely, it seems as if they are hovering in the vortex. While this isn’t strange in and of itself, the Doctor had assured her that there was nothing that could cause problems for the TARDIS while they were in the vortex.

And yet something has clearly gone wrong.

Still, she realises after a while that there’s nothing to be gained from staring into the vortex as it flashes across the screen, and she’s not about to open the door and look outside just in case something goes wrong again. Leaving the console room with a tired sigh, she heads back down the hallway, planning to slip through the medical bay and finish her tea.

The sight of the Doctor, however, stops her in her tracks.

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