The road less travelled...

Title: In Dreams 5/6
Author: katherine_b
Rating: PG
Summary: The Doctor has come in response to the summons he received. But the reason for him being called is not at all what he was expecting.


“But just before the dawn, I awake and find you gone. I can't help it, I can't help it, if I cry. I remember that you said goodbye.”

Part V

The Doctor straightens up and then looks around. The console of the TARDIS is unapproachable, entangled with a massive, tangled knot of the golden rope.

“Well,” he says briskly, “no time like the present. Avanti!”

“Wait, Doctor.” Donna grabs his arm. “What is it?”

“Ah.” He tugs unhappily on his earlobe, uneasy about explaining, although he knows that Donna deserves to understand. “It’s, um,” he glances at her warily, “it’s what I had to do to save your life. The golden rope is your memories of our time together. This mess of knots is what I had to do to save you – tie it up so it couldn’t hurt you anymore.”

She slaps him.

“Yes,” he agrees, although he can’t actually feel the pain he knows there would have been in the real world. “I probably deserved that.”

“And I’ll do it to you again so that you can feel it,” she promises. “Just you wait and see!”

“I will,” he agrees, and kisses her again before turning to the large knot.

“Can I touch it now?” Donna asks as they sidle up to it.

“You have to,” the Doctor tells her with a grin. “We both do. The only way for us to unlock all the memories is to untangle these knots. That way,” he feels as the mass of guilt that he knows was caused by his actions begins to ease, “when you wake up this time, you’ll remember.”

She tilts her head slightly to one side as she gazes at him. “Do you really mean it?” she asks breathlessly, her face alight with hope. Then a teasing look appears in her eyes. “Are you sure it’ll work, or are you just making it up as you go along, the way you usually do?”

“Oi!” he’s beginning indignantly, but then the lights around them flicker and he knows they don’t have much time. “Hurry, Donna!” he urges as he lunges for the first loose end he can see, beginning to unwind and untangle it.

They work together as the perfect team he knows they always have been, and slowly the knot begins to decrease in size. As it gradually becomes smaller, the colours of the TARDIS strengthen and he begins to feel the presence of the ship in his mind. Knowledge of his past and who he is resurfaces, as well as hints of the future that make him work even faster.

“What happens,” Donna asks at one point as she works on a particularly stubborn knot, “once we get the console free?”

“I’m not sure,” he admits as he follows a rather complicated tangle, and manages to free a long strand of the rope. “The TARDIS could help us – or maybe it’s what you told me at the very beginning.”

Donna drops the knot and stares at him, fear blossoming on her face. “We’ll wake up?” she asks anxiously.

“Donna.” He leaves his tangled mess alone and crosses the few feet between them to cover her fingers with one of his hands. He slides the fingers of his free hand into her hair, his palm cupping her cheek. “Whatever happens, when you do wake up, you’ll remember. No more feeling lost and afraid.” He rests his forehead against hers. “I’ll be there with you. Won’t that make things all right?”

For a moment, she gazes into his eyes before a smile creeps over her face and she brushes a kiss against his lips. “Yes,” she agrees in a whisper, pressing herself against him. “Just as long as you don’t leave me.”

“Never,” he vows, and once he’s sure she’s all right – really all right, not just saying it to make him feel better – he gently frees himself and goes back to the tangled mess he was working on.

Slowly they move closer as the massive knot shrinks, and finally they’re working on the same strand of thread, rather than the many loose ends that his attempt at blocking her memories had caused.

“There we go,” he says in delight as he can finally pull the last of the rope away from the console and sees all of the familiar switches and dials revealed. The TARDIS hums happily in his mind.

“One more over here,” Donna says, lunging for the far side the ship, where the last of the rope is lying in a pile, a tiny knot on top.

And as she manages to undo it, the lights of the ship, which he knows have slowly been dimming, dip even further.

“Donna!” he calls urgently. “Hurry!”

He stretches out his arm, desperately trying to cross what suddenly seems like an impossibly great distance between them. She reaches for him, terror on her face as her fingers only clutch at the air.

“Doctor!” she cries, panic in her voice. “Please!”

He feels something pulling him and fights to get away, struggling to get closer to her, to the console, to anything that will afford him a handhold, but he’s being dragged inexorably away from it all.

Something shimmers between them, solidifying into a wall that gradually obscures his view of Donna, who is still reaching for him as tears pour down her face, which is twisted into a horrifyingly familiar expression of grief and betrayal.

“I’ll find you!” he yells desperately. “I promise you, I’ll find you! Donna! Hold on!”

The last words echo around the cold, white infirmary as he sits bolt upright on the cot, staring around with wild eyes before he finally recognises his surroundings and feels the cold metal of the Chameleon Arch pressing against his perspiring forehead.

His hearts are racing as he removes what is left of his makeshift arch, which falls to pieces in his fingers, revealing the haste with which he put it together. He gets off the cot and shoves it away before finally crossing to the bed where Donna is still lying.

Her cheeks, he sees at once, are stained with tears, several of which are still clinging to her eyelashes. Considering what he went through in that dreamworld, knowing that she experienced the same, he doesn’t find it difficult to understand the reason for her distress. He carefully removes the original Chameleon Arch, seeing as it swings out of his hands up away into the ceiling where it belongs. Then he takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wipes her face dry before returning the square of fabric to his pocket and placing a hand on her shoulder.

Before he wakes her up, he allows himself a moment simply to gaze at her features and wonder how he never let himself fall in love with her before. He knows he’s always admired her bravery and her willingness to stand up for what she believes in, and he knows that his guilty pleasure was how much he adored her hair. Still, he can’t believe his own blindness at not realising how beautiful she is until this moment.

The only thing missing from her face is the animation he loves so much, when those gorgeous eyes of hers are dancing with laughter or just beaming her joy at him. Suddenly desperate to see it again, he tightens his hold on her shoulder and gently shakes her.

“Donna?” he prompts softly. “Come on,” he urges as her eyes flicker beneath her closed lids, “time to wake up.”

She stiffens and stretches a little, her lips parting in a stifled yawn, before her eyes open and he has a chance to see her face as he likes it best – alive with energy.

And then his hearts sink at the fear that blossoms on her face.

“Who are you?” she demands, pulling violently away from him.

We block the memories of her dreams.

He curses inwardly at the realisation of what has happened; that everything they achieved in the dreamworld has been undone by the Ood, who believe they are still doing the right thing by protecting the DoctorDonna.

“Where am I?” Donna demands, and he realises with a shock just how massive is the problem that he’s created for himself.

“This is,” he catches himself before he can repeat the words he said to her when she first appeared on the TARDIS, “a hospital of sorts,” he finishes, grateful that he isn’t actually lying to her. “We’ve met before, Donna,” he goes on gently as she gapes at him, silenced for once. “I’m John Smith.”

This seems to calm her a little and she sits up. “What are you doing?” she demands suspiciously, and the difference between this and the way she spoke to him when they were working to undo the knot of memories breaks his hearts afresh. “Why am I here?”

“I’ve been trying to help you,” he says, gesturing at the machines, which are still measuring her biological responses. “Working to help bring back those memories you’re missing.”

“Oh.” She runs a hand through her rumpled hair. “That’s why I keep waking up in all sorts of strange places, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he agrees, deciding not to mention the sleepwalking, which he suspects would only upset her. “Your grandfather asked me to have a look at you and see if there was anything I could do.”

“Right.” Misery has settled onto her face now, and the sight of it only adds to the pain he’s feeling. “And there wasn’t.”

“Not this time.” He knows he’s clinging to desperate, impossible hope, but he can’t completely crush own disappointment, let alone hers. “But maybe, with more treatments, it might be possible,” he finishes, although he knows he’s run out of ideas for things that may be able to fix her if what he’s just achieved couldn’t manage it.

“Okay.” Her tone implies that she doesn’t believe him, and that hurts more than anything, because he can so easily remember moments when it was clear that she trusted him to the end of time, both in the real world and the dream universe they’ve just left. She shrugs a little. “Can I go then?”

“Of course.” He bustles around, turning off the various machines and seeing that the TARDIS has provided a pair of slippers that are identical to the ones Donna used to wear when she travelled with him.

The sight of something she knows clearly reassures Donna because she doesn’t ask any further questions when he waves at the door in a gesture that invites her to lead the way out of the room.

She heads down the hallway and into the console room, stopping short at the sight of the massive space.

“What the hell is this place?” she demands as she turns on her heel to stare at him.

“It’s something we set up,” he lies quietly, “prompted by vague memories you said you had, in the hope that it would help you to recall other things.”

“Oh.” The readiness of his answer clearly catches her off-guard and she stares around at the room with wide eyes while he watches.

He can’t help hoping that the one thing he dreaded when he landed the TARDIS here, on the top of the hill overlooking the Noble residence, might actually happen now. He wants her to remember so much that it’s nearly killing him. He has to believe that what they did in the dreamworld will have been enough to allow her to remember him and everything they did without the danger of her burning up.

What he can’t be sure of is whether this desperate belief comes from the logic of his mind or the passion of his heart.

As she looks around, though, he can see from the expression in her eyes that none of the memories are seeping through even when she’s in these familiar surroundings.

“Come on,” he says in the end. “Let’s get you home. Maybe,” he adds, hoping desperately that it’s possible, “we’ll get more next time.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, and he can’t help thinking that there might be a touch of regret in her tones.

Her hand swings by her side, so close to his that it’s a massive effort for him to resist the urge to reach down and take it. He succeeds though and crosses to the doors, opening them and waiting for her to walk past him and step out onto the grass.

Donna stops as soon as she gets outside and frowns, glancing back over her shoulder at the inside of the TARDIS before looking around.

“That’s my house,” she says, pointing to it.

“I know.” He places a gentle hand on her arm, steering her away from the TARDIS. “I wanted to make sure you were somewhere close to home in case you panicked.”

She huffs and shoots an indignant glare at him that reminds him of their early hours together on the TARDIS.

“I’ll have you know, Mr Smith,” she spits, “that I never panic!”

“No,” he agrees, remembering all of those times when anyone else would have been beside themselves with fear and Donna Noble faced it bravely, “you don’t. But,” he goes on before she can interrupt, “considering you were waking up in a room with a stranger you’ve never met in your life before…”

“Somehow,” Donna’s soft voice cuts him off, “you don’t feel like a stranger.”

He stares at her, hope swelling in him until he feels as if he’s going to burst, only to deflate just as rapidly when she shakes her head and looks away.

“No,” she says at last. “It’s just my imagination, isn’t it? I mean, if I’d ever seen you before, I’d remember, wouldn’t I?”

“Yes,” he says bitterly, trying not to spit the words out. “Yes, of course you would.”

They arrive at the Noble residence and the Doctor can see the front door standing ajar, evidence of the way Donna left the house to come up to the TARDIS in her sleep. He holds it open for her as if he’s done it a thousand times before and follows her up the stairs.

“What time is it?” Donna demands in a hushed voice as they stop outside the door of her bedroom, which he recognises from his last visit here.

“Almost three o’clock in the morning,” he says automatically, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Wilf or, worse, Sylvia.

She nods again and he can see that the initial adrenalin caused by the shock of waking in a strange environment is fading away, replaced by the exhaustion and depression that is the reason why she spends all of her time in bed.

Opening the door, she takes several steps into the room before she turns to him, her eyes once more studying her face.

“Thank you for bringing me home,” she says primly, and it’s clear that she’s stopped trying to think of where she might know him. She’s closed off, willing to treat him as the stranger he is, and he responds in a similar manner.

“You’re welcome.” He steps a little closer, knowing that he has to do one more thing before he leaves.

He can’t have Donna telling Wilf or Sylvia about the strange man who brought her home. He doesn’t want to have Wilf suffer the bitter, agonising disappointment that is flooding through him at this moment. So it’s better that they never know, and for them not to know, Donna must also never be allowed to remember.

Perhaps it’s because he’s done it before, or because he knows that he’s not taking anything important, or maybe it’s just that he’s so caught up in misery that there’s no room for anything else.

Whatever the reason, he feels no guilt as he reaches for her temples. The memories of what she’s done since waking on the TARDIS are gone before she can react in any way, and for the second time he catches her unconscious body in his arms.

The bed is already turned back from when Donna got out of it at the time her sleepwalking began, so it’s easy to lay her between the sheets and gently cover her. Just as before, though, he stands beside the bed, staring down at her, trying to say goodbye.

His hearts break all over again and he turns away, silently leaving the room.

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