The road less travelled...

This was something I tentatively started a long time ago (conveniently, just after I finished She Never Really Forgot. You're really need to read that first or this will make no sense at all. And as adroidmortox247 wanted to see more of this series, I thought this was a good way to give it an airing.

Title: He Never Really Believed 1/1
Author: katherine_b
Rating: PG
Characters: Donna and the Doctor
Disclaimer: Ownership? Er, no. Not a snowflake’s chance in Vesuvius on Volcano Day.
Spoilers: All of Season 4
Summary: The Doctor has his Donna back at last. Complete and utter fluff.
A/N: Warning - this is really long. As in 5,500 words of long. Once I got started, I just couldn't stop...

The strangest part is that he can hear a single heartbeat pounding in his ears and he knows that it’s his.

No, the actual strangest part is that he is holding his best friend in his arms, and she knows who he is.

Actually, the absolute strangest part is when he suddenly discovers that hugging his best friend isn’t enough. That is, it’s great, and how he imagined their reunion would be during those moments that he dreamt about it actually happening.

But it’s not enough.

Because what he really wants to do right now is lift her off her feet and whirl her around in the air.

And kiss her.

And that realisation doesn’t even shock him.

When she begins to pull away, he tightens his hold around her.

“No,” he pleads. “Not yet.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Doctor.” There’s a cheeky look on her face, and he grins in spite of himself. “You might take it into your head to kiss me or something.”

The grin disappears and his arms go slack as he stares at her.

“How did you…?”

Know? She giggles. I’m here, you know.

Her lips haven’t moved, and yet he can hear her voice, as clear as the skies about the planet Morriton, where rain has never fallen and water comes from massive lakes below the ground’s surface.

“Donna?”

Oh, wake up, Spaceman. She gently slaps his arm. Just because you closed your mind to me all those years ago doesn’t mean I did the same.

And that’s when he realises he can feel her, a presence tucked away in the back of his mind, just like the TARDIS, only rather less ordered. He suddenly becomes aware that she’s been there all along, only he never tried to put a name to the voice before. And as soon as he does, as soon as he calls it ‘Donna’, he feels a sudden sense of calm and fulfilment, rather like putting the last piece in a jigsaw puzzle when, for the first time, it’s possible to see the whole, perfect picture.

She moves in his arms, as if to get away, and he looks down and tightens his hold.

“Not yet,” he repeats. “I’ve only just got you back. You can’t leave me yet.”

“I can’t stay here all night,” she protests, although she stops fighting and leans her head against his chest. Then she pulls away and looks at him. “That’s just – weird.”

“What is?”

“Your heartbeat. Singular. The last time, when you were – you know – carrying me off the TARDIS… Well, the thing I remember most is the way I could hear both your hearts. And I’ve remembered that all this time. Well, that and how gentle you were. That surprised me a lot.”

He looks down at her, rather startled and just a little bit hurt. “What did you expect me to be?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just – not like that.”

“I see.” He doesn’t, but right now, he doesn’t think it matters that much. Leave things like that for later, and concentrate on right now.

He can feel Donna smile against his shirt.

“You still haven’t kissed me,” she remarks.

“I thought you wanted a mate,” he teases, and then there’s a moment of silence and he can feel that the part of her in his mind has withdrawn a little.

“Well,” she says slowly, “if that’s what you want…”

He slides a finger under her chin and lifts her face so that he can look into her eyes.

“Don’t be daft,” he murmurs, before lightly touching his lips to hers.

So is this just another round of detox then?

Donna, shut up. He grins against her lips as she chuckles, and then slides his fingers into her hair, feeling the tangled strands tug gently against his hands.

They’re both a little bit breathless when they pull apart, but he won’t let her go. After so long, he needs the feel of her in his arms, and he leans his head down so that their foreheads are touching.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He strokes his thumb along her jaw line to her chin and then her lower lip.

“I’ve missed you, too.” She smiles, and there’s a teasing light in her eyes. “I sometimes thought you’d forget me.”

He’s certainly never forgotten her for a moment, and neither has he forgotten that awful conversation outside the TARDIS, where every word Donna said was like a personal attack. But he’s too happy to be angry with her now, so instead he gives in to the urge he had earlier. He wraps his arms around her in a too-tight hug and lifts her off her feet, swinging her around in the air.

“Wh-ha-hat’s this – God, put me down! – for?” she gasps, holding on for dear life. “Doctor, what are you doing?!”

“Punishment!” He grins wildly, smug in the knowledge that, thanks to his Time Lord brain structure, he’s never been dizzy in his life.

Except for right now.

He feels Donna half-slide out of his grip, but the world is whirling around so fast that he can’t focus on her. Then her hands are holding his shoulders and her voice is speaking in her ear.

“Doctor?” She giggles in what he can’t help thinking is a particularly heartless manner, as she all but holds him up. “See, that’s what happens when you’re mean to me.”

As the world slows down, he stretches out a hand and she wraps both of hers around it.

“You know, I’m almost tempted at this moment to say ‘run’,” she laughs.

“Yes, well, you’re on your own there,” he replies, finally able to focus on her face again, although the perimeters of his vision still have a tendency to shift alarmingly.

“Well, that’s what happens,” she tells him, adding, with a huge grin, “Earthman.”

He can’t help chuckling at that, although it sounds rather faint to his own ears, and stores away the fact that this regeneration – although it isn’t really that – is going to have to be a little more careful about balance.

Almost as if she read his mind – and he knows that she quite possibly has – Donna leans her head on his shoulder and remarks, “Time Lord brain, human body. Welcome to my world, sunshine.”

He plants a kiss in her hair. “You teaching me something – that’ll be a change.”

* * *

Some time later, Donna finally loosens herself from the Doctor’s hold and crosses the room.

“For goodness sake, turn on the light,” she tells him. “I’m afraid to move in case I fall over something.”

“I’ll catch you,” he promises, but turns away to do as he’s told.

“I know you will,” she’s beginning, but then gives a loud yelp as the room is flooded with light.

“Donna!”

The Doctor spins around on his heel, his heart pounding and adrenalin coursing through him. He sees her standing in front of a full-length mirror, staring at her reflection.

“What is it?”

When she doesn’t reply, he crosses the room, standing behind her where he can look in the mirror. For an instant, he catches the usual glimpse of Daughter of Mine, but he’s immediately distracted by Donna, his eyes frantically searching her face for whatever it was that had caused her to cry out.

“What? Donna…?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

He’s startled at the realisation that her words are coming from between clenched teeth and there’s an expression on her face that seems to combine anger, horror and, just maybe, the desire to laugh wildly.

“What?” He’s honestly clueless about what is wrong with her. “What is it?”

She grabs a handful of white fabric and shakes it at him. “I’m in my wedding dress!”

The phrase ‘Yes, you look lovely’ springs to his lips, but somehow he doesn’t think that’s what she wants to hear this time. So instead he gapes at her for a moment until her patience ends and she slaps his arm.

“I’ve been standing here,” she says slowly, as if speaking to an idiot, “in my wedding dress for I don’t know how long – but quite a while, I’m sure – and you didn’t think to mention it.”

“I… er…” He doesn’t want to tell her that he didn’t actually notice, but in the end, he can’t think of any other excuse that won’t sound like a lie, so he’s honest and hopes she’ll let it pass. “I… didn’t honestly notice, to tell you the truth.”

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. Her voice is what he can only call dangerous.

“You. Didn’t. Notice.”

It’s clearly not a question.

“Er… no.” He hesitates for a moment. “Sorry?”

And that clearly is a question, because he honestly has no idea what response she wants to hear.

“How can you not have noticed?” And suddenly her face drops. “Lee noticed, the last time I wore it for him.”

“Um, Donna,” he knows he has to be careful here, “that was on your wedding day. And besides,” he grins as he remembers, “I don’t honestly think he noticed anything except for your face. That gorgeous smile.”

Her eyes narrow and she steps closer.

“How do you know?” she hisses, and for a moment, he swears he can feel her in his mind, probing for the answer. He tries to shut away the memory of standing at the back of the church and watching Donna and Lee exchange vows, but he’s not quick enough. She backs away, her eyes wide.

“You were there!”

He nods. “I couldn’t stay away,” he admits softly. “And you did look beautiful,” he adds, hoping to soften any further blows, physical or metaphorical. “Particularly when you were dancing together. And, um…”

He trails off, because he realises that he’s only made things worse.

“So you came to the reception, too,” she declares, almost triumphantly. “Used the psychic paper to pretend to be one of the guests, I suppose?”

“Barman,” he admits.

“Which I guess explains that Harvey Wallbanger I got just before we left,” she says, poking his chest with a pointy index finger. “I did wonder, but I thought Lee was being considerate.”

The Doctor looks down rather sheepishly and digs his foot into the carpet. He hopes that this will stop her being so angry with him, and as the fury fades from her eyes, he decides it’s worked and that he can risk a grin.

And suddenly they’re laughing together, so much like old times – just like when they were riding the segways down the passageway under H.C. Clements – that it seems like all of the time that they were parted was just a dream.

* * *

“I guess it must have been the TARDIS.”

The Doctor scratches his ear and tries not to look in the direction of the small walk-in robe where Donna is changing out of her wedding dress.

“I rather thought that myself.” Donna’s voice is muffled. “What I don’t understand is why she would decide that I belong in my wedding dress, of all things.”

“Perhaps you should ask her,” he suggests teasingly.

“Is that a touch of envy I hear, Doctor?” She peers around the door, a cheeky grin on her face. “We girls have to stick together, you know.”

He laughs and waves her away. “Hurry up, Donna. I’ve got things I want you to show me.”

“Well, that makes a definite change,” she laughs, but obligingly disappears behind the door again.

The Doctor stands up from his seat on the end of the bed and crosses to the window where he can look out at the garden, the TARDIS standing silent in the darkness. He rubs a spot on his left hand and then stops and stares at it.

“Hey, Donna!”

She peers around the door again. “Well, what?”

He all but bounces over to her. “Have you got any injuries that you sustained before you were on the TARDIS the second time, but after the first time? Scars, I mean.”

She stares at him. “Let me get this straight – you want me to have hurt myself.”

“Yes! Well, no. Not exactly. Listen.” He leans against the door and she yelps, putting all her weight against it to keep him from coming in. He pushes a bit harder. “No, really, listen, anything? Scars, or moles, or anything? ’Cos I got a burn, right here,” he points at the place on his hand, “when we were at Pompeii, and now it’s gone.” He looks up, sees her about to interrupt, and continues. “And it’s not changed just because of the regeneration – okay, not regeneration – new creation – thingy – have to come up with a new name for it. Anyway, that other version of me that grew from my right hand – my right hand, got it? Not my left – had the same scar. I saw it when we were working the Megatron in the Crucible. So, I was thinking…”

“Doctor!”

The sharpness of her voice stops him short and he realises that he’s pushed the door open and she’s standing in front of him, clutching a shirt to cover her modesty – and it’s not doing a very good job.

“Oi! Timeboy!”

He looks up sheepishly to meet her gaze. “Eyes?”

“Yeah!” She points back into the bedroom, although the gesture is ruined when the shirt slips and she has to grab it back with a squeak. “Go. I’ll be out in a minute.”

He slinks out of the room, metaphorical tail between his legs.

“Oh, by the way,” her voice follows him out, “in answer to your question – yes, there was something different.”

“Really?” He bounces back in the direction of the walk-in robe, but she glares at him and he backs away again.

“As long as you stay there – yes, there, at least ten feet from the door – yes.” She casts a hard look at him and then disappears behind the door.

There’s a long moment of silence and the Doctor’s impatience begins to grow. He bounces on the bed, the springs creaking softly beneath him, which causes Donna’s head to reappear on the other side of the door.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting.” He grins. “Patiently.”

“Hah!” She rolls her eyes, and then he can see her pulling something blue over her head. “You don’t know what patience means, Doctor. I doubt you can even spell it!”

“I can!” This accusation pricks his pride. “P-A-T… or is it s-h…”

She laughs, pulls the door back and steps into the bedroom. “Very funny.”

“I thought so.” He grins, casting a glance at her from head to toe, before arching an eyebrow. “Um, veil?”

She claps her hand to her head, feeling the white fabric beneath her fingers, and she turns to the walk-in robe before giving a peculiar ‘ooh’ and staring blankly at a space on the floor.

“What is it?”

“Interesting…”

“Yes?”

“Very interesting.”

He gets up and crosses the few feet between them. Now it’s his turn to speak slowly as he turns her to face him. “I. Am. Going. To. Shake. You. Unless. You. Tell. Me. What’s. Wrong.”

“Do, and I’ll slap you from here to next week,” she shoots back instantly.

“Thank you.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Why the ‘ooh’?”

She steps away and picks up a framed photo from the bedside table, which she holds up in front of her chest.

“Let’s play a game,” she suggests. “Spot the difference.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes before his attention is caught by the picture and he takes it from her. Then he studies Donna herself for a moment before nodding.

“Different hair,” he says. “Different clip holding the veil in. This,” he moves the picture, “is your marriage to Lewis – Lee, I mean. So what’s this?” And he reaches out to touch the white beads on her head.

“This is the outfit I was wearing when I first appeared on the TARDIS.” She loosens the clip and slides the veil off her head. She runs her fingers through her hair, the majority of which is hanging loose around her shoulders, and looks at him. “It’s what I had for my marriage to Lance. I took the veil off in the taxi, before I leapt out to get away from the Pilot Fish. And I left the veil there.” Her voice has become thoughtful. “It was the only thing we had to replace for my marriage to Lee, and,” she darts back into the walk-in robe, emerging a moment later with a suit-bag over one arm and the dress she has just removed over the other, “this is still here.”

“What is it?” He comes over as she lays the suitbag on the bed, watching as she unzips the bag to reveal an identical dress to the one she has just taken off.

“It’s not the same, though,” Donna says, as if reading his thoughts. She takes the dress off the hanger and slides a finger under the shoulder strap, turning it inside out to reveal a neat row of stitches cutting horizontally across the seam. “See, this was torn when we were climbing up the ladders from the basement of H. C. Clements. Mum had to do some repairs before I could wear it. But this,” she tugs at the strap of the dress she has just removed, “hasn’t been damaged. So either the TARDIS does a darned good repair job, or…”

“Or we’ve somehow gone back to what we were – physically – when we first met.” He nods. “That’s what I thought when I realised my scar was missing.” He tilts his head slightly to one side. “Suggestions as to why?”

“Frankly, I don’t care.” She laughs, putting the wedding dress back into the suit bag, and then readjusts her top, which the Doctor can now see is rather too loose. “I never managed to lose the extra weight I gained when I was pregnant, and if that being gone is the work of the TARDIS, I’ll thank her forever.”

“Come on then.” He takes her hand and pulls her in the direction of the doorway. “You can do it in person.”

* * *

They’re still holding hands as they go out into the garden. As they step out into the cool evening air, the Doctor gently squeezes Donna’s hand and she turns to smile at him.

“I’ve missed this so much,” she says, and he can hear the longing in her voice. “Being with you. The quiet times. The rare quiet times”

He moves closer so that their arms brush. He might be relatively obtuse when it comes to some things – many things, he has to admit to himself if he’s being strictly honest – but even he can feel how special this moment is. For both of them.

“You’ve been lonely,” he says, knowing that it’s true. “Donna Noble, I am so sorry.”

“No!” She turns to face him, jerking her arm out of his, and there’s suddenly terror in her voice. “Don’t say that! Please! Not those words! Not like that!”

And he’s startled – horrified – to find that her eyes are full of tears. He can even feel her distress in his mind, flowing into him like a pain-filled wave, and it carries with it the memory of the last time they were together on the TARDIS, when he tried to save her and ended up separating them.

“I…”

He’s about to apologise again, but stops himself just in time. Instead he draws her into his arms, her head tucked under his chin, and feels her clinging to him almost desperately.

“Never again, Donna.” His voice is a soft whisper. “I will never do anything like that to you ever again.”

She shudders, and he tightens his hold. It’s the only way he knows of showing her that he’s still there.

Then he realises that it isn’t.

He finds her with his mind, discovers that she’s so terrified by what he’s just said that she’s closed him off, and sighs inwardly at the realisation that it’s all his fault. For a moment, he considers sharing memories of their time together, but then he has a better idea and digs deep into his own memories.

There’s one place in his mind that he rarely visits now, but he knows is still there. It’s the memory of a song that formed part of his all-too-brief childhood. Although the tune was one of the most familiar on Gallifrey, his mother put her own words to it, and it’s this that he has remembered with deep and abiding fondness for so long.

Since the Time War, he’s tried not to remember.

But he knows that something this intimate is what will show Donna that he means it when he says that he won’t do anything to hurt her ever again.

So, even as the tears begin to slide down his face and the pain in his chest makes him breathless, he opens that tender part of his mind and shares it with her.

And when she’s finally quiet in his arms, the tension draining away, and then she reaches up and links her arms behind his neck, her head resting against his chest, he knows she really believes it at last.

* * *

Later, once she’s apologised for making a soppy mess of herself, and he’s repeated more times than he can count – well, actually 26, because of course he can count – that it’s all right, that he understands, that he knows, in spite of her denials, that she did mean it, but that it doesn’t matter because anyone in her situation would have done the same – after all that is out of the way, they finally approach the TARDIS.

It’s standing in lonely grandeur in the back corner of the garden. The doors are open, but there’s no light inside and the starlight is so dim that, even with his heightened senses, the Doctor can’t make out much of what’s inside.

Out of habit, he reaches into the inside pocket of his coat for his sonic screwdriver, only to realize, as his fingers find nothing that resembles his favourite object, that he left it with River Song when he believed he was dying.

Then he notices that Donna is holding a slim, black – definitely sleek – object in her hand, and he snatches it from her.

“Oi!”

“Where did you get this?!”

She grins in a manner that he can only describe as ‘smug’. “I fished it out of that bin you threw it in. Really, you know, it would have been more polite if you’d offered it to me in the first place. After all, why should you be the only one with something sonic to play with?”

He waves it at her. “Advanced alien technology,” he scolds. “You could have…” He trails off as he sees the look of scorn on her face. “Well,” he goes on, feeling immensely stupid, “um…”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” She rolls her eyes. “I could have what? Blown up half of London? It takes you for that, Doctor.”

“Hey!” He’s so indignant at this unfair accusation that he barely notices when she snatches the pen back out of his hand, fiddles with it, aims it at the TARDIS and then turns it on.

The interior of the TARDIS is instantly illuminated with a soft yellow glow.

“Setting 293b,” she tells him. “Nightlight setting.”

“Nightlight setting?” he repeats, appalled. “Who would need that?”

“Oh, think about it, Doctor,” she shoots back. “This belonged to Matron Cofelia. You know, a nanny. You don’t turn on all the lights to check on the children.”

“What, you think the Adipose were sensitive to a little illumination?”

“They were children,” she tells him, rather as if she’s speaking to a child herself. “If you’re going to check on them in the middle of the night, you don’t risk waking them up.”

“Oh.”

He decides, rather sensibly, that Donna probably knows more about this subject than he does and lets it drop. Instead he follows her into the interior of the TARDIS.

“Silence,” Donna murmurs, and he doesn’t have to ask what she means because he can feel it too – the silence in his mind, where the TARDIS once was.

There’s pain in his chest as he looks around the dimly-lit console room. If it wasn’t for the comfort of Donna’s mind within his, he would find it almost impossible to bear the yawning gap where the TARDIS once resided.

Then he feels that she’s slipped her hand into his and he smiles at the fact that she seems to know exactly what he needs.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

She nods in the direction of the doorway down to the bowels of the ship. “Do you think – well – will there be anything down there?”

Now he knows she’s reading his mind – or at least absorbing his feelings – because he has been wondering the exact same thing.

“Only one way to find out.”

He can feel his own reluctance, and he has to wonder why. Part of it, of course, is that he’s just realising how much the loss of the TARDIS is going to mean to him. She’s been the most constant companion for so much of his life that he can barely even begin to imagine what it will mean not to have her.

There are also all of the bits and pieces he’s collected during his travels – souvenirs, Donna called them after he showed her the box containing the items beginning with ‘C’. But that’s only the beginning. If all of the rooms are gone, then so have all of the things inside them – the different rooms that belonged to each companion, the laboratory, the swimming pool, the wardrobe room – he’d really miss that if it went! – and, most important of all to this book-loving version of the Doctor, the library.

So it’s with a massive sigh of relief from both himself and Donna that they find themselves standing at the head of a very long corridor that is lined on both sides with doors of different colours, shapes and handles.

“Kitchen,” he guesses, pointing at the blue door. “Library.” Orange. He’s very glad to see that one. “Pool.” Green. “My room.” Brown. With stripes. He was very impressed by the TARDIS when he realised that choice after the regeneration that produced the tenth Doctor. Then he stops and stares at a bright red door. “What’s that one?”

“Mine.”

He arches an eyebrow as he looks at her. “Not when you were here before. Grey, as I recall. How do you know it’s yours?”

“The doorknob is brass.”

She walks the few metres to the door – third on the left – and turns the shiny brass knob. The door swings open silently and she steps onto the threshold.

“Okay, when did that door unlock?” he demands, following her. “Last time I checked, I couldn’t get it open.”

Donna grins. “Me and the TARDIS again. One day, when you were moping, I got her to lock it. She did a good job, too. It took the sonic pen and some begging to get it open when Lee and I were here.”

He stops dead in the doorway, staring after her as she enters the room and uses the sonic pen to light the bedside lamp.

“You and Lee were here?” he demands.

She shrugs, not looking at him. “Yeah.” If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was grinning.

“In my TARDIS?!” His voice reaches several octaves about its usual pitch and volume.

And, darn her, she’s not just grinning – she’s laughing! At him! She’s trying hard to suppress it, but he can see the corners of her mouth twitching. She opens the wardrobe door and looks inside, but her shoulders are shaking now.

He grabs her arm, pulling her towards him, and she clearly isn’t prepared for it because she falls back against him and they end up collapsing onto the bed together.

“Donna Noble,” he begins in his sternest voice, but realises almost immediately that it’s impossible to speak with authority when she’s lying next to him on the bed, held tight in his arms and giggling so hard that her face has gone bright pink.

“Y-yes, D-Doctor,” she splutters, before dissolving into laughter again, presumably at the expression on his face.

He can’t help it. His own lips are beginning to twitch, and then he’s laughing with her, squeezing her in his arms until she yelps and pushes him away.

“Air,” she reminds him breathlessly.

He loosens his grip, but not much. Just enough that she wriggles into what he assumes is a more comfortable position. He slides one hand into her hair, letting her head rest on his fingers, the other hand lying on her hip.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asks with a smile.

She smiles back at him. “Well, as I see it,” she says, “you have two options.”

“Hmm?”

“First, you can try to put up with me.”

He laughs, moving his thumb slightly so that it strokes her temple. “And what’s my other option?”

Donna’s smile widens to a grin. “Find someone else who’ll put up with you.”

The Doctor laughs before getting to his feet. He’s not completely comfortable about this situation, but it takes a moment for him to understand why. Then, as he helps Donna up and looks around, he realises that it’s the first time he’s ever come this far into what was her room. It’s almost as if he’s intruding.

She’s the first companion whose room he never strolled in and out of with a sense of ownership. Maybe it was the way she set the boundaries of their relationship from the beginning. Or was it because she was that much older than almost all of his other companions?

Whatever the reason, the furthest he’d come into this room before today was when he showed her to it on her very first evening, and then he left her to get unpacked. After that, he always stopped on the threshold.

Now that he thinks about it, he can’t remember a time when Donna came into his room either. Maybe she felt the same way.

And yet he hadn’t felt at all uncomfortable about being in the bedroom she and Lee had shared. Maybe because of the way she had invited him in: “Come in here. And sit down. Anywhere will do. Just don’t run off anywhere.”

Maybe she needs him around as much as he needs her.

He hopes she does.

* * *

When they leave the TARDIS, the sun is already rising. The one thing that the Doctor can’t quite get his head around is how tired he is. It’s as if he’s been awake for weeks, rather than just days, and he even stumbles over the step. Donna only just manages to catch him before he falls.

“Whoa, there, Spaceman.” She grins. “I never picked you as the type to throw yourself at a woman.”

“Depends who the woman is,” is all he can manage by way of a comeback, and then a yawn takes him by surprise. Thanks to the respiratory bypass system that was part of every past incarnation, he’s never had to yawn before and it’s a very strange sensation.

She takes his arm and leads him into the house, into the room next to hers, and points at the bed.

“There. Go. Sleep. Now.”

He wants to argue, but when another yawn catches him by surprise, he realises that he can’t think of anything except how comfortable the bed looks and how much he wants to lie down. However he turns back to her, not quite willing to give in just yet, in case it means he’ll be missing out on something.

“What will you be doing?”

She grins. “Sleeping, too. It’s what humans do when they’re tired – the smart ones, anyway.”

He snorts and then steps across the threshold into the bedroom.

“Pyjamas under the pillow,” her voice follows him. “Bathroom through that door there,” she’s pointing to the wall opposite the bed, “and if you’re hungry when you wake up, there’s food in the kitchen.”

“Reading my mind again,” he mumbles.

“If you don’t want me to, then don’t make it so easy.” She chuckles. “Sleep well, Doctor.”

The door closes behind her and he’s alone. Strangely, his first instinct is to run after Donna, almost as if, now that he can’t see her anymore, she’ll disappear into thin air. He stops himself, though, realises that he can hear her moving around in the next room, and smiles at his own stupidity.

He finds brand new pyjamas under the pillow – brown and blue stripes – and pulls them on. He nearly falls asleep while cleaning his teeth and falls onto the bed with a grateful sigh. He wonders how humans cope when they get this tired after something as simple as a few days of being awake, but he realises, with a wry smile, that he’s about to learn first-hand exactly how they manage.

Want to read it all over again? Start here.