Chapter Text
“No, Donna, I promise, it’s nothing bad,” he reassures her.
Her voice comes through the speaker shrill, annoyed, and worried. “Bloody idiot! Not that bad. Slicing your hand open is pretty bad, John!”
He cradles his injured hand to his chest and holds his phone to his ear with the other. “No, no, no it’s fine I promise. I patched it up and everything.”
You washed it, right?” Donna asks, and he can hear movement in the background. She’s shuffling around her apartment, he assumes, looking for something.
He stands up and starts pacing around his lab. “Yes of course. I have a first aid kit and everything. You know. Just in case.”
He hears her keys jingling. “Yeah? And you used disinfectant?”
“Er...” he mumbles. There’s the sound of her front door closing, and he quickens his pace, wandering around the basement. “You – you don’t have to come over, I’m fine, I promise. Just – like, tell me through the phone. What I need to do.”
“John,” she says evenly. “I have no confidence in you whatsoever.”
He deflates against a wall, resisting the urge to slide to the floor. “That’s fair.”
“I’ll see you in a few minutes. Don’t go giving yourself anymore injuries, yeah? And keep away from your lab.”
“Yeah, don’t worry. Won’t even move,” he says, resolutely digging his heels into the floor.
“Good. See you in a few.”
“Thanks, Donna.” She grunts, and the line goes dead. He snaps his mobile shut and slips it back into his pocket.
He shifts against the wall, trying to get a comfortable position, except... there’s something weird about it. It’s sort of... vibrating, under him. He shifts back and squints at it, but it just gives him a headache, trying to discern any details. He puts a hand against it and–
– –
–Donna shakes him. “John? Hey, idiot.”
He blinks, shakes his head, and forgets all about the blue box in the corner of the basement. “Oh. Hi, Donna. When did you get in?”
She rolls her eyes. “Just now. Give me your hand, let’s see how bad you’ve hurt yourself.” He obeys, and she makes a disapproving noise in the back of her throat. “You need to be more careful, John. You’re not invincible, you’re a – a fragile human. Not invincible.” She gives him a serious look. “And I worry about you a lot, you know.”
His eyes find the floor. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
“It’s fine. Come on, let’s fix this.”