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Chapter Text

The Doctor was used to keeping track of Donna on trips by now. The trick was to keep her in sight. After over thirty-six hours on an early colony cruiser, he wasn’t about to let her wander off down some corridor never to be seen again. 

The bright young attendant leading the way to a room seemed startled to turn and find two people behind her instead of just one. “Oh,” they said, turning a pretty chartreuse. “Of course― I should’ve offered you a marriage bunk.”

“We’re not married,” they said in out-of-sync unison. But Donna was already dead on her feet and the Doctor wasn’t faring much better. “Any room with a bed is fine,” Donna added, and let herself in. 

It was a small room, clearly a military design, but it did have a bed. Donna headed right for the bunk, toeing off her shoes and shoving off her coat. “I could sleep for a week,” she groaned and flopped down onto the cot clearly meant for one occupant. 

The Doctor looked around the small space. “Bit spartan, even for early colonization.” He eyed the multipurpose stool by three neat drawers. “Not even a proper chair.”

“Oh, just get in with me,” Donna groaned and shoved herself back toward the wall. 

“You sure?” he asked, estimating that she’d freed up maybe a third of the space. “It’s a bit… narrow.” 

Her eyes were already closed. “Big spoon or little?”

“What?”

She sighed noisily. “Do you want to face the wall or the door?” 

“Er,” he said. “Door?”

Donna shoved up onto her side, and patted the thin mattress in front of her. “Little spoon it is, then.” 

The Doctor was too tired to worry about her sleepy riddles. He shed his coat, jacket, and shoes and climbed in. Donna immediately tugged him back up against her, providing much more warmth than the thin blanket. She mumbled something that was probably supposed to be goodnight, wedged her face up behind him and immediately fell asleep. The Doctor followed almost immediately. 

Without the TARDIS to dampen things, the Doctor ended up where he always ended up. He was standing on the burning shell of his home planet. The warm skies pitched a violent red, steeped in the blood of all the lives he’d sacrificed to the Moment. There were no screams, no sounds, just endless, gaping silence. His mind was hollow and abandoned, used to so many and now empty, never to be filled again. Not even a whisper. Not even a breath. 

Then he heard a sharp inhalation. It was weak and distant― barely anything. But it echoed through the silence like a shot. 

Something bloomed hot and cold in his chest and for a moment he thought he might've actually been shot, but that would be a relief and that was too kind a fate for him. The sensation grew sharper, pricking, and he realized it wasn’t his. Human grief was as linear as everything they experienced, but it sliced deeper somehow. 

“Oh, Spaceman…” 

A figure flickered nearby, but when he turned it was just a shell. The light behind her eyes was dim, constrained only to the physical. Without the telepathic depth, she might as well have been a paper doll. Only a tangle of timelines held her up, like a broken puppet. 

The painted face fell. “Is that really what I look like to you?” It made him inexplicably sad. No one that close to oblivion should have to be aware of their fate. 

“It’s all right,” he said, and offered a hand. It wouldn’t be long until the consequences of his actions tore her apart the same as the rest. “You’re not alone. I’ll stay with you.”

The paper doll crumpled further. “That’s my line,” she said and held his hand with surprising strength. The blue embers of her eyes sharpened instead of dimming. “I won’t leave you.” But her edges were already fraying. 

“It’s all right,” he soothed. “It’s just like going to sleep.” 

Something cracked and then the paper person was leaking, tears streaming down porcelain cheeks. “Doctor, I’m fine,” she insisted. “You’re just dreaming.”

“Course you’re fine,” he said. It was so much worse when they realized what was happening. Better to go quietly. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said again. “Just― wake up, now. It’ll be better when you’re awake.” 

“I don’t sleep,” he sighed.

The dying light in her eyes sparked momentarily brighter. “No, I mean it! Wake up!” Cracks started to appear in her skin. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry.” He traced one of the cracks on her hand. “It shouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh, that’s comforting!” she snapped and snatched her hand away to grab him by the shoulders instead. “Listen to me, Doctor! You have to wake up!” She glanced behind him at the burning ruins. “…Is that getting closer?”

“It’s all right,” he said. “It won’t reach you.” The cracks were growing. The timelines were ripping her slowly at the seams. She wouldn’t be there long enough to need to worry. 

Her vacant eyes darted back and forth in increasing horror. “Right, as fun as this is, you really need to wake up. Now!” She gave him a shake, surprisingly solid. “Doctor, I’m not kidding!” 

He frowned down at her hands, wondering why she felt so warm. “That’s odd…”

“Yeah, I’m the one being odd,” the paper shell scoffed. She yanked him into a hug, impossibly tight. “Wake up!” The fragile thing gripped him tighter. “I can―!” She finally burst, unravelling like flimsy ribbons.

The Doctor felt the loss just as keenly as ever, even if he’d known it was coming. Time stretched and suspended, leaving him alone once more. Then the world tilted like the ground itself was trying to buck him off. 

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” a familiar voice chanted in time with the tremors. To his tinny ears, it sounded like Gallifreyan, but the accent was off. Gallifreyan accents were never off. “Wake up!” 

He started to say, “I am―” but everything jumped and spat him out. And then he was blinking awake to Donna shaking him. 

“Wake up, wake― Oh, thank God!” Donna yanked him into a hug and then shoved him back before he could fully process it. “You barmy―! You had me worried sick!”

The Doctor stared as the world solidified around him. “…Donna?” It only took a moment to realize what he’d done. “I’m so―“

“Don’t say it!” Donna snatched him into another hug like he was the one who might unravel. “It’s all right,” she said nonsensically. “You’re all right.” 

“Course I am,” he said even as the cold realization sank into his bones. He’d sought the connection instinctively, and the TARDIS was too far to temper it. Donna squeezed harder and he could almost feel his bones creak. “Are you all right?”

“Shut up,” Donna ordered, and gripped him tighter.  

Neither of them ended up getting much sleep after that. Eventually they gave it up as a bad job and just carried on searching the ship. 

Chapter Text

When they finally stumbled back to the TARDIS, Donna was dead on her feet and the Doctor didn’t look much better. 

“‘M going to bed,” she mumbled, and headed right for her room. 

The corridors stretched and the TARDIS chittered, trying to remind her of something. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it in the morning.” More clicks and whirs started up, insistent. “Aw, what? I can’t have left the cooker on, can I?” She looked around to ask the Doctor and realized he wasn’t in the corridor. “Doctor?” 

No answer.

She had to go all the way back to the console room. He was standing right where he’d been when she left. 

“I’m not carrying you to bed,” she told him. 

The Doctor startled, but it took a beat for his eyes to flick over. “Surely you haven’t slept already.” 

Donna frowned. “It’s been five minutes.” 

“Three minutes, forty-eight seconds,” he corrected. 

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, no, you’re right. That was plenty of time.” She gave him a look up and down, assessing. “Aren’t you turning in?” 

“Oh, I’m not tired,” he said.  

Donna squinted suspiciously. “We’re back on the TARDIS. You said she helped.”

“Course she does,” he said. “But I’m still not―“

“I’m too tired to argue about how tired you are,” Donna cut him off. “My room or yours?”

Dark eyes cut over to her. “What?” 

“I’m not going to stand here arguing about it,” Donna warned him. “Pick a room. I’m going to sleep and you’re going to either sleep or just sit there, but we’re both going.” 

He scowled. “I’m not―!”

“My room, then!” Donna grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall. “Yours is always such a mess. Do you have some moral objection to dusting?” 

“It’s not dust, it’s― I’m not tired!”

“No, of course not. Look at you― reflexes like a puma.” Donna waved his tie in his face and he blinked at it, not sure when she’d taken that off. She shoved him into her room while he was working that out. “Lose the shoes and jacket and get in.” She waved an authoritative finger in his face. “Do not make me chase you all over this ship! I’m already tired! And you still owe me!” 

He was still sputtering when she headed into the ensuite. 

The Doctor wasn’t being held prisoner in his own ship by his own companion. He wasn’t. He was just being considerate. After several days of stress, Donna had earned a proper rest. And if she insisted on it being a group activity… well, it was hardly the most inconvenient request she’d come up with. He didn’t even have to be under the covers― just sitting there, apparently. 

He’d expected more of a fight, really. But she’d just returned from the ensuite, flopped onto the other side of the bed, buried her face in the pillow and seemed to pass right out. He stared at the back of her head, wondering how long it would take her to drop off enough to not notice a little light petting. Her hair was a bit oily from the extended stay, but he wasn’t picky. 

Just as he was thinking she must be deep enough, she grumbled and turned to squint one eye open. “What can I do?” she asked.

He blinked. “About what?”

She rolled her eyes. “About the nightmares. Can I…? What would help?” 

“Oh,” he said. “Nothing. The TARDIS can help.”

“Then why aren’t you already asleep?” she asked with a tone that meant she knew exactly why. 

“I’m not tired,” he lied. “I’ve gone much longer without sleep before. You get some rest.” He could practically see Donna turning that over in her mind. “It’s really fine.”

“I can’t remember the last time I had a nightmare,” Donna said. 

He wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. “That’s… nice?” he tried.

She scoffed. “I’m not bragging, I’m saying―“ She pulled back to squint at him in the low light. “Do you want to try connecting with me? To sleep?” 

“That’s not safe,” he said immediately. “And it’s not―“ He couldn’t quite decide on a word. Polite? Responsible? Something anyone should offer casually? He could already imagine Donna steamrolling right over any of those. 

As expected, she forged right ahead. “I’m pretty sure my dreams are all floating through clouds or wandering through fields. Sometimes I can swim without needing to breathe― that’s always fun.” 

He stared at her. “Uncontrolled contact isn’t safe. You wouldn’t be able to push me out, and I wouldn’t be awake to control it.” 

“Control what?” Donna asked curiously. 

“Myself,” he said tightly. 

Unbelievably, Donna seemed to think that was funny. “What are you going to do, shag me senseless in my own head?”

“What? Of course not! Why would you―?” 

“It’s a joke, it’s a joke,” she said, still snickering. “C’mon. It’s just a dream, right?”

“No,” he said. “Don’t offer that.” She worried her mouth against her pillowcase, clearly not deterred. “The answer is no. Please don’t.” 

She huffed a belligerent breath out, but came back with, “Fine.” She buried her face in the pillow again, ostensibly to muffle a yawn. 

The Doctor relaxed. “Thank you.” He patted her hair lightly. “Now, don’t let me keep you up. As a matter of fact, I could go if you’d prefer―”

“Do you want to try it awake?” she asked. 

He frowned even though she couldn’t see him. “What?”

“I’m nodding off anyway,” she said, yawning. “If you’re going to stay up, you could have a look for yourself? See if you think it might help? Something to do, at least.”

He jerked around to stare at her. “You want me to connect with you while you’re sleeping?”

Donna turned her head toward him, looking deeply unconcerned. “Not like we’re doing anything else, right?”

“But you― you still wouldn’t― Are you really that confident you’ll only dream of clouds??” He genuinely couldn’t imagine that level of certainty. 

Donna shrugged again. “I’m pretty boring.”

“Boring?!” 

She yawned right in his face. “Listen, I’m going to sleep. Do what you want. You have my explicit permission.”

“Why??” he asked, baffled, but she was already making herself comfortable again. 

“Why not?” Donna asked around another yawn. “If you get an eyeful of lovely shirtless men, just… cover your mental eyes or something.” She sniffed and settled back in. 

Seven minutes and thirteen seconds later, she was deeply asleep. 

Chapter Text

The Doctor made it another hour and sixteen minutes before he thought about having a look. 

Donna was an absurdly peaceful sleeper. She just rolled over and dropped off. No fussing, no tossing. She slept the sleep of the innocent. 

He made it another forty-eight minutes before deciding a quick look couldn’t hurt. She’d given him explicit permission after all. And he was just lying there. And as long as he stayed awake… well, it was morally dubious, but not clearly out of bounds. 

And he had permission. He could practically hear Donna groaning for him to get on with it already. 

He carefully turned onto his side, raised one hand and established the lightest possible contact. 

Human mindscapes tended to mirror human spaces― open fields, sandy beaches, generic cityscapes. They used a familiar base structure and built on that with the fascinating dreamlogic that allowed for stairways that looped back on themselves and bridges that spanned mountains and moons. 

Donna’s mind was a unique mix of human concepts and alien planets. A pair of massive, colorful zyglots twisted lazily overhead, as casually as the aurora borealis. A city stood oddly close to the shore, mixing modern Earth architecture with structures that wouldn’t be invented for millenia. Some of the buildings were run through with something organic, but the Doctor couldn’t quite place the influence. Coral, perhaps?

The edge of the city bled seamlessly into a wide open beach in the way that only dreams could manage. Donna sat in the sand and stared out at the waves, looking like a picture of relaxation. 

As soon as he spotted her, she looked up like he’d called her name. “Hello,” she said dreamily. 

“Hello,” he said back. 

She pointed out at the open sea. “There used to be a bridge here. Or… there will be.” She paused to think that over and settled on, “There’s no bridge now though.” 

“No bridge now,” he agreed, already a bit charmed by her dreamy babbling. It reminded him of the rare occasions when she woke up on her own and wandered around mumbling to herself. She had the most delightful responses to questions in those bleary hours. “Is there something across the water?” 

Donna shrugged. “Nothing that matters. The bridge is what matters.” She dug around in the sand with one hand and a patch of vines grew under her palm. “I can make one,” she said, and twisted some vines together, creating a little arch. “All the best bridges have flowers,” she said, and little colorful buds grew out of the junctions. 

The Doctor crouched down for a closer look. “Fascinating,” he said. “Are bits missing or are you just making up for them?” The physics were all wrong. They should probably drop by an expo on material engineering.

Even in her dream, Donna took the time to look unimpressed. “It’s not the bits that matter,” she said. “It’s the bridge!”

“Right,” the Doctor said. “My mistake.” 

She fussed with her little arch some more, adding whimsical (if impractical) struts and flourishes. “The lines never stay straight,” she said. “But they never seem to fall apart.”

“That’s nice.” He made a mental note to slip some physics into conversation more often. Clearly Donna was in need of a remedial course. 

“Mmhmm,” she hummed and lay back, patting the sand beside her. He lay down as well, looking up at the looping forms, backlit by both a sun and a moon. “You can’t think about it too hard,” she said, sounding a bit more like herself. He glanced over to ask and nearly lost his balance lying there. The shoreline lurched and sprouted a massive version of Donna’s little bridge, arching clear across the water.  

“That’s brilliant!” he laughed, delighted. 

“I know,” Donna said, adorably smug. 

The Doctor sometimes worried that he loved her more than even two hearts could bear. But that wasn’t exactly a new concern for him. “Mind if I stay for a bit?”

“Course.” Donna settled back with a dreamy sigh. “Anytime.” 

He couldn’t help asking, “Do you know who I am? Here, I mean.”

Donna smiled. “Course I know you,” she said. “You think I’d forget you?” 

Something about that statement pricked unpleasantly. “Who am I, then?” A yellow butterfly appeared, followed by two more and then two after that. They fluttered around curiously. “…Donna?”

Donna laughed a little and one of the butterflies landed right on her finger when she held a hand up. “Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name.” 

He squinted at her. “Is that The Last Unicorn?”

Donna laughed again and the butterfly flitted up as though carried on her exhale.  

“I’m not a unicorn!” he argued, offended in spite of himself. 

“Closest thing to a unicorn I’ve ever met,” she teased. Even in a dream. 

The Doctor sighed, not quite sure what he’d expected. “Suppose you mean it as a compliment,” he said, and tried not to be irrationally disappointed that she didn’t recognize him after all. Dreamscapes were fickle places anyway. 

“Of course I know you,” she insisted. “You’re my best mate,” but she pronounced it incorrectly in Gallifreyan, going far too intimate. “Come on, then.” 

He carefully sidestepped the translation issue. It was a dream after all. “Come on, what?”

Donna rolled onto her side and then half on top of him. Interestingly, she mirrored the movement in real life, if a bit less gracefully. “Let’s hear some nice things,” she said in the dreamworld, smiling contentedly. “Tell me how clever I am.” 

The Doctor’s brows shot into his hairline, but he couldn’t resist the chance to compliment her without a fight for once. “You’re brilliant,” he said. “Look at this amazing little world you’ve built! Well, I say ‘little,’ but it’s quite expansive, really. A proper feat. You should invite people in here more often. Well, I say ‘people.’ Actually, scratch that. You should keep this to yourself. Don’t want every telepath in the Universe clamoring around for a look.”

“Mmhmm,” Donna crossed her arms over his chest and propped her chin on them. “Now tell me I’m pretty.”

He blinked, but was hardly going to pass that up. An openly affectionate Donna Noble was a novelty to be appreciated for as long as possible. “You’re lovely inside and out.” And then because he suspected he could get away with it, he stroked her hair a bit. “You shine so brightly, Donna Noble. Could light a galaxy with you.” 

She wriggled up and experience had taught him to expect an eye roll or perhaps a smack. He was not expecting her to lean in and press her pleased smile into his. Another delightful twist. Perhaps he should be letting Donna get more sleep. It seemed to do wonders for her mood.

The Doctor was more than willing to indulge in a little open affection. He appreciated a friendly kiss mixed in with his hugs and Donna gave the best hugs. If this was any indication, she knew her way around a snog as well. 

Donna leaned into him, warm and intent. He could feel the soft contact so clearly through her mind’s eye. A quick flick of the tongue confirmed she even had the taste. It was honestly impressive. 

He got a bit distracted wondering how she was managing that. Because of this distraction, he might’ve let the friendly kiss go on a bit too long. He might’ve also failed to keep track of her hands, one of which slipped inside his shirt. 

Just as her fingertips began to spread, the Doctor realized what they were doing and quickly disengaged. He blinked his eyes open with Donna snoozing peacefully away, still half on top of him. 

“…Donna?” he called quietly. He could feel second-hand emotions still swirling, far more than just friendly interest. 

“Nmn?” Donna grumbled and curled tighter, clearly still asleep. 

His eyes wouldn’t go any wider, but she remained blissfully unaware. “Never mind,” he mumbled, and patted her hair.

She sniffled, sighed, and settled, leaving him to his thoughts.

Chapter Text

The Doctor wasn’t quite sure what to make of this new development. Donna had never even hinted at wanting more… had she? He tried to run back through their interactions, looking for anything more than platonic interest. If anything, he was the one who might’ve sent a few mixed signals… but a casual kiss or two hardly seemed like the worst transgressions. She’d never said anything.

She’d let him into her mind though… Her unfiltered urges couldn’t have been clearer if she’d shouted them right in his face. And really, it was hard to imagine drawing a boundary now. 

He lay awake for quite some time, not quite dozing. He refocused several hours later, when Donna rolled fully on top of him.

“Nmn,” Donna grumbled, and slid the rest of the way over to his right side.

He became immediately aware of the pins and needles in his left arm, which suddenly felt much cooler. Then he got distracted when Donna hooked her leg around his like a koala. 

“Donna,” he hissed and tried not to get clipped anywhere sensitive. 

“Sk,” she mumbled, and wedged her thigh higher, angling her hips restlessly. Whatever she was trying to do, it didn’t seem to work. She didn’t seem to know what to do with his hip. 

“Don-na,” he yelped when she fisted her hand in his shirt and reminded him of a similar move from her dream earlier. “Oof― Donna!” 

“Nwat?” she grumbled.

Her knee inched higher. “Donna, your leg―!” His voice cracked as she applied just that much more pressure with the leg in question. “It’s a bit―! Could you―?” 

“Whu?” Donna huffed, gave him a full-body squeeze, and then dragged her head up, looking around. It took her a moment to find his face and another several out-of-sync blinks to focus on it. “What?” 

“Your leg,” he said. “Could you perhaps move it just a titch lower?” She startled, and his voice cracked a bit, but she jerked it down instead of up, thankfully, and then rolled off the rest of the way. 

“Sorry!” She shoved over and seemed baffled when the motion rattled her nightstand. “How’d I get over here?” 

“Determinedly,” he said and took the opportunity to roll onto his side. 

Donna scoffed and did an odd little shimmy that nudged him back toward the middle. “Just budge up if I’m so in the way.” 

He shifted over and rolled his wrists, wincing at the crack. “Sleep well?” he asked. 

“Mmhmm,” she said and he tried very hard not to think about how closely that mirrored her dreamy tone. “So how was it?” she asked.

“How was what?” he asked, voice jumping up a bit. 

Donna didn’t seem to notice, still in one of her more pliant moods. “The dream thing. Did you even do it?” she asked around a yawn. 

He eyed her curiously. “Do you not remember?” 

Donna paused in her stretch to give him a judgmental look. “Don’t ask me like that― it’s a dream! That’s the whole point of dreams!” She sniffed. “Guess that means you did― Is it so hard to just answer a simple question? What are you smirking about?!” 

The Doctor tried and failed to fight down a fond smile. “You really are a wonder, do you know that?” Watching her glare now, he’d have never known Donna wanted anything else from him... But it was a bit nice. And logical, honestly. Hardly seemed worth establishing barriers now, when they were already so comfortably close. 

Donna scoffed and gave him the light smack he’d been expecting all along. “Don’t make fun of me! I told you my dreams are all boring. That was the whole point!”

He laughed outright. “Donna Noble, you are anything but boring.” 

“Shut up,” she mumbled and sat up, looking around like the room might tell her where to go next. “God, I need a shower. I’m a mess.” 

In a fit of whimsy, he followed her up and caught her face between his hands. “You will never be lovelier than you are now,” he quoted. 

Her cheeks colored so quickly he could feel the temperature change in his fingertips. “What’s gotten into you?” she blustered and shook him off. 

“I had a brilliant dream,” he said with a bright smile. He ducked in for a quick kiss ―still brilliant, if a bit sour― and hopped up before she could try for another smack. “Now then! Breakfast?” 

Donna was still sputtering. “Does proper sleep make you even weirder?!” 

“It is a bit invigorating,” he said, laughing. “No wonder you like it so much.” The TARDIS chirped cheerily. “Quite right! I’ll make breakfast!” He bounded over to the door. “Then we can drop by a nice science expo.” 

“A science expo?” Donna repeated, much less enthusiastically.

“Just a quick review of basic physics,” he assured her. “I’ll pick one with lots of interactive bits.”

“Interactive―? Oi, are you trying to trick me into going to some space version of a science museum for kids?!”

He was already in the corridor. “You’ll like it!” he called back. 

“I’m a grown woman!” she shouted after him.

“Course you are!” he called back, running through a mental list of options. He could already tell it was going to be a marvelous day. “A science expo will make for a fantastic first date.”

There was a loud crack and then Donna slammed into the hallway. “A first what?!” 

He paused in his search for the room with all the markers. “First date,” he said clearly. “Well, first official one. You could’ve said.”

Donna goggled. “I could’ve said!? What are you even talking about?!” 

He gestured toward her. “You’d like to― Sorry, do you really not remember your dreams at all? Did you get a concussion at some point or is it always like that?”

“Is it always like―? You’re telling me I asked you out in a dream?!”

“No, no, no,” he assured her. “You skipped several steps― not that I mind!” he clarified, having to raise his voice over her indignant squawk. “But first dates are a nice tradition, aren’t they? And you’re clearly in need of some remedial physics. Two birds, one stone, as they say.” He smiled brightly. 

Donna gawked. “Sorry, are you asking me out?!”

“Yes,” he said, enunciating as clearly as possible in case she was still drowsy. “Of the two of us, should I be the one telling you about human courtship rituals?”

Donna was working on a goldfish impression, opening and closing her mouth. She finally came out with, “Courtship?!?”

He eyed her. “I picked you up in the twenty-first century, didn’t I?” 

Donna opened her mouth, closed it, opened it, and just walked back into her room. 

“Breakfast in twenty,” he reminded her, and went to find the markers for the pre-trip review of some basic concepts.