The road less travelled...

Title: Nightmares 4/8
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 IV

A brilliant red spot is burning in each of the Doctor’s cheek and his lips are parted, a rattling breath sounding loud in the otherwise silent room as it rasps in and out. His right hand is tangled in the blankets, as is his right leg, as if he’s been thrashing in his sleep. Even his left leg is protruding from under the covers and Donna wonders how much that movement must have hurt him.

She's beside him as he begins to twitch again, slipping her hand into his and feeling for the first time that his skin is hot against hers.

“Doctor,” she says as soothingly as she can, “it’s all right. I’m here. Lie still.”

He mutters something under his breath, although she can’t catch the words, and his eyes move beneath closed lids for a moment before she suddenly finds him looking at her, his eyes brilliant with fever.

“Doctor?” she prompts, waiting for him to acknowledge her, but he seems to look right though her.

“What do you want?” he demands, his voice a very faint rasp, but she’s shocked to see him frowning at her. His accent, a definitely Northern inflection, sounds strange in her ears.

“I’m… taking care of you,” she offers hesitantly.

“Bah, I don’t need that,” he snaps, turning his head away and pulling his hand free with a violent jerk. “Don’t need any stupid ape to take care of me! I’m a Time Lord!”

“You’re an injured Time Lord,” she shoots back, the hot temper that goes with her red hair flaring at his criticism. “And unless you want to end up in a pile of agony on the floor, you’ll do as you’re told!”

He seems about to argue with her again, his body tensing against the hand she’s using to hold him down, when he suddenly wilts, his dark eyes fixing on her with a look of mild amusement on his face.

“What happened then?”

She arches an eyebrow, wondering what’s got into him. “You’re the one with the link to the TARDIS, you tell me,” she argues.

He closes his eyes as if obeying her directions and she hesitates, not willing to walk away from the bed in case he tries to get up. However she sees something different in his face when his eyes open again.

“Who are you?” he asks briskly.

Her lips thin as she looks at him, seeing that his eyes are still too bright. “Donna,” she says slowly, “remember?”

“Donna,” he says slowly, and she can almost see him thinking. “Donna, Donna, Donna, Donna, Donna. Nope, don’t know anyone by that name.”

Her jaw drops and she stares at him in disbelief.

“Doctor, it’s me,” she says urgently. “Donna Noble. You saved me from the Racnoss, remember?”

“Never saved anybody,” he replies briskly. “Not lately. Grace saved me, though. Well, tried to. Treated me like a normal human being. I’m the Doctor though.”

“I know you are.” Donna watches him closely, wondering at the swift change of mood and the unknown name. “Time Lord from Gallifrey. Nine hundred years old. And you need to rest.”

“Are you a doctor?” he demands, squinting at her as if trying to recognise her facial features.

“You know full well I’m not,” she tells him. “Martha’s the doctor, not me.”

Something flickers in his eyes and then she has the impression that, for the first time, he’s looking at her properly.

“And you’re a human, aren’t you?” he said brightly.

“Of course I am!” She’s getting frustrated now, sick of this game, and more than a little frightened by it. “What else would I be, Doctor?”

“Well, you could be a tin dog.” He grins at her, his head lifting off the pillow to look her up and down. “You look like you could use a bath, though! Off you go!”

“Oh, no,” she protests. “I’m not leaving you alone. You’d be trying to run around and get into trouble, and you’re not well enough for that yet.”

His grin fades to a thoughtful half-smile. “You’re the caring sort, are you?”

“Well, I try to be,” she says slowly.

He suddenly begins patting his side with his right hand, as if looking for something in the pile of blankets. “I know what you need – a jelly baby! I’m sure I’ve got one here somewhere. Yes. No. Ooh, hold on.” He stares at his left arm, strapped across his chest. “What’s happened here then?”

Donna sighs impatiently. “The accident, Doctor, remember? The TARDIS went mad and threw us around like – oh, I don’t know what!”

“The TARDIS?” His voice is brisk, but Donna’s only mildly surprised when it sounds different again. “The TARDIS did that? Not like her at all. She’s usually nothing but a lady. And speaking of which, it’s very rude of me to be sitting here while you’re on your feet.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Donna replaces her hand on his chest to keep him still. “It took me enough effort to get you on that trolley once, mate. Don’t make me have to do it a second time!”

“My dear madam, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He looks positively shocked. “I would never ask you to do such a thing!”

She rolls her eyes and turns away, trying to force down the panic inside. She really has no idea what’s going on, but she’s truly afraid now.

The Doctor suddenly grabs her hand, and when she turns back to him, there’s a pleading look in his eyes. “No, please,” he begs. “Don’t leave me. Everyone leaves me. Tegan. Nyssa. Turlough. Adric.”

Donna’s startled both by the abrupt change of his voice and the tears that suddenly sparkle in his eyes. She gives his hand a gentle squeeze as she returns to her former place beside the bed.

“All right,” she says gently. “I won’t leave you. Not if you need me.”

“I’m always alone,” he mutters miserably. “No matter which me I am.”

“What?” She stares at him in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

She doesn't really expect him to respond, but his gaze is suddenly sharp, although she can see that it’s an effort for him to focus on her.

“I change,” he tells her, his voice stronger than she would have expected considering how ill he seems to be. “So I don’t die,” he continues. “Change everything about me. What I look like. My personality. Everything. Regenerate into another me.”

Donna can’t help the way she takes a step back from the bed, away from him. She can’t help wondering if he really means it. Then again, if it’s true, it might explain the different voices and moods he’s gone through during the past few minutes. She can understand how something like a high fever might cause confusion in his mind. God knows, the last time she was dangerously ill, she apparently ranted like a lunatic about going surfing, of all things. She doesn’t even like surfing!

The Doctor’s head rolls sideways on the pillow, away from her, his eyes tracking over the ceiling before coming back to her face.

“Doctor?” she prompts as he remains silent.

Suddenly he pulls his hand out of hers and crosses it over his chest. “What do you want?” he demands, much as he had done several minutes earlier, although his voice is different this time.

“I want to make sure you’re all right,” she retorts wearily.

“Waste of time,” he snaps, making her jump, and she hears a Scottish burr in his tone. “Emotions – stupid things!”

“What would you be without them?” she demands.

“A Cyberman.” He stares at the ceiling for a moment and then nods as if confirming something in his mind. “Yes, a Cyberman.”

“Well,” she says gently, taking advantage of his apparent distraction to straighten the blankets around his legs, “I don’t know what a Cyberman might be, but I can’t think of anything worse.”

“Oh, you’re just like Ace then,” he snaps, closing his eyes as if to end the conversation.

There’s a long pause and then, just as she’s starting to hope that he’s sleeping and she picks up his hand to tuck it under the blankets, he speaks again.

“Victoria?” he asks in what she can only think of as a hopeful tone. “Have you come back then?”

“I’m sorry.” She gives his fingers a gentle squeeze. “It’s Donna.”

“Ah.” He withdraws his hand from her grasp and his eyelids lift, his focus on the ceiling, his eyes obviously sad. Then he tries to move his injured leg and draws in a sharp breath. “Oh, my word!”

“Well, if you stay still, it won’t hurt,” Donna tells him.

The faintest smile pulls at the corners of the Doctor’s mouth. “Logical. Very smart, in fact. Not a bad idea.”

Donna lifts a head to rub her aching forehead.

“Please, Doctor,” she begins, before falling silent as she watches his eyes close. She’s quite glad, as she had no idea what she was going to say to him. She has the feeling that ‘please turn back into the Doctor I know’ won’t help much.

“And what’s the matter with you, hmm?” he says suddenly, his eyes snapping open, and he turns to look at her, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Why, you’re positively filthy! And you look as if you needed a good night’s sleep, my child.”

“Bit rich, coming from you,” she retorts, leaning tiredly against the bed. “The man who never sleeps!”

“Ah, yes, well, it’s not something we do a lot of, I’m afraid.” He gives a faint shrug and then winces when it obviously hurts his shoulder. Turning, he eyes the strapping before looking at Donna again. “What have you done to me then?”

“Tried to help you,” she says in exasperation. “And I’m not about to do it again if this is the thanks I get!”

His mouth opens to reply and then his face goes slack for a moment, his eyes unfocused, before he speaks again.

“I suppose I’m going to die now,” he proclaims, his voice suddenly dramatic.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” she snaps. “You’ve got a couple of broken bones, that’s all. If you were going to die, or regenerate, or whatever, you’d already have done it by now!”

Disgusted by his attitude, she moves away from the bed, going over to lean heavily on the sink, her shoulders bowed and her forehead pressed against the small mirror. She’s so tired that she’s on the verge of tears, but she’s not about to show that to the Doctor, no matter who he seems to be.

And then she hears his voice speaking softly.

“Donna?”

She spins on her heel, gasping as she looks at him. The too-bright light has faded from his eyes, leaving them hollow and empty, but at least she can see that he recognises her. His face is pale again, the brilliant colour having faded, and his head is lying limply against the pillow as if he’s unable to hold it up. However his right hand is held out to her in a pleading gesture and the expression on his face seems to fit, in a way that it hasn’t since he woke up and spoke in the first strange voice.

“Doctor?” she asks uncertainly.

“I hurt,” he says, as if surprised.

Donna moves back to the bedside and takes the Doctor’s hand. She can’t help the way she uses her other hand to smooth his hair. She’s just so relieved to hear him talk in his normal voice that she thinks idly it’s a wonder she doesn’t hug him.

“You’ll be all right,” she assures him. “A few weeks, I suppose. Or maybe only a few days, I don’t know. Do Time Lords heal faster than humans? Probably.”

“You’re babbling,” he says with a faint smile. “Just like you say I always do.”

“Well, you do,” she exclaims indignantly, but she cuts off her next sentence as she sees his eyes close briefly before he fights to open them again. “I think you need some more sleep,” she suggests gently, brushing her fingers down his cheek. “And maybe I should give it a go as well.”

“Mmm,” he agrees faintly, forcing his eyelids up to look at her again, his next words coming slowly. “I should… take care… of…”

“No.” She touches her index finger to his lips to silence him. “The only thing you need to take care of now is yourself. And that means sleep. Now. Got it?”

“Got it,” he murmurs, his eyes falling shut again, and he’s asleep almost before she realises.

Donna waits for a moment before loosening her hand from his hold. She’s more tired than she thinks she’s ever been before and it’s effort for her to turn away from the bed. The room seems to spin around her and she grits her teeth and clenches her fists at her sides to make it stop, ignoring the tears that are pouring down her face.

Looking around, she’s about to work out what she’s going to sleep on when she sees that a low camp-bed is standing against the far wall of the room, and she blesses the TARDIS as she staggers over and all but falls onto it, asleep almost as soon as her head touches the pillow.

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