Chapter Text
Donna places her tea down on the coffee table, glancing down the at the clock. Due to the current minimal structural integrity of the the wall, the clock rests on the floor. “It’s getting late,” she says. “Rose, you should get to bed. It’s a school night.”
“Actually, school was canceled,” Rose explains. “Because of the whole Giggle thing. It’ll probably be back next week, though.”
Donna shrugs and gets to her feet. “Despite that, you should still call it a night. Staying up late is bad for your health, and as your mother, it’s my job to keep you healthy. Besides, we should let the Doctor get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
“Donna, I’m fine–” The Doctor pipes up from the couch.
“Nope. No complaining,” Donna interrupts. “You need sleep. Come on, up you get.” She turns to her husband. “Shaun, can you go grab a pair of pajamas? And maybe a spare toothbrush?”
Shaun gets to his feet. “Will do,” he says, retreating up the stairs.
Donna grips the Doctor’s forearm and steers his towards the guest bedroom. She dumps him down onto the bed. “Now you’re gonna stay here all night,” she orders. “And you’re gonna sleep.”
“Donna—“
“Nope, I’m not hearing anything about it,” Donna interrupts. “Your new-older self told me to look after you, yeah? I’m gonna do just that.”
Shaun pops his head into the room, holding a bundle of clothes. “I also grabbed some toothpaste. Doctor, you’re welcome to shower anytime. We’re lucky the water pipes weren’t harmed.” He says, laughing.
The Doctor gratefully takes the bundle from Shaun’s arms. “Thank you.”
His stomach continues to twist. All these items, these clothes— How could he ever repay them?
Donna rests her hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. “I love you, all right? Remember that. And get some sleep, for God’s sake.”
She and Shaun move to leave the room. “Feel free to let any of us know if you need anything,” Shaun says, smiling softly.
The Doctor hurries to assure them, “This is more than enough, thank you.”
Shaun guides Donna away, who quickly mouths at the Doctor a silent ‘Good night’.
-
The Doctor stares up at the ceiling, wide awake, watching the shadows dance. He’s lucky; this room isn’t nearly as compromised as parts of the rest of the house.
Soft moonlight filters in through the open window. The dark blue curtains rustle in the breeze. Just beyond, distant stars twinkle, taunting him.
He could be out there. He could leave this all behind. He’s done it before — too many times — and he can do it again. He could leave behind this perfect family.
Perfect.
Which he would ruin.
Trouble finds him very easily. Just his presence would put the Nobles in danger.
Yes, leaving would hurt. It would be excruciating to leave behind his best friend. But it wouldn’t hurt nearly as much as watching her die.
The Doctor moves the covers aside and rises into a sitting position. He should never have come here. He’s allowed himself to be given clothes, food, and lodging. It’s too much. All the pain, the dead people, Donna’s memories—
He doesn’t deserve this.
The Doctor gets to his feet, pulling his coat over Shaun’s pajamas. He silently twists open the bedroom door and creeps out into the hallway.
Careful not to trip over any boards or loose screws, the Doctor makes his way through the house, approaching the back door. Silently, he pulls on his shoes and retrieves the sonic screwdriver from his pocket.
He winces at the loud buzzing of the screwdriver. Maybe it’s the empty hallway, or the silent night, but the sonic sounds louder than usual.
The Doctor pauses for a moment afterwards, straining his ears for any distinct sound of any of the Noble family waking up. He hears none.
The back door opens with a quiet creak. There, in the backyard, surrounded by mole holes, stands the TARDIS, tall, proud, and astonishingly blue. The Doctor closes the door behind him and starts walking slowly towards his beautiful ship.
She casts a large, dark shadow in the moonlight. Her doors seem daunting, careening up for far to high. Her edges are sharp, threatening.
She wants him to stay.
“You can’t stop me,” the Doctor tells her, approaching her. He runs his fingertips carefully down her side. “I know what’s best for myself.”
The TARDIS whirrs angrily, softly shaking the ground beneath his feet.
“I’ve done this for millennia,” the Doctor reasons. “I’ll be fine.”
Her lights flicker warningly.
“And what would you know about that?”
The door flies open and smacks him in the face.
“Oi!” He accuses. “What was that for?”
The door shuts with a bang and locks with a deliberate click.
“Fine. Be like that.” He sits down right there in the grass. The evening dew wets Shaun’s pajamas and the Doctor’s coat, but he finds that he doesn’t care. “I can stay here all night.”
The TARDIS doesn’t respond.
The Doctor scowls. “Why don’t you want me to leave? I’ll just hurt them.”
Nothing.
He picks absent-mindedly at the grass at his feet. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” He says, then scoffs. “I already can’t.”
The TARDIS gently whirrs.
The Doctor sighs. “That’s not their job. I can’t burden them all with this. I love them, old girl. Donna means everything to me. Sure, she cares about me, and she wants me to heal, but I’m fine! You saw me, I was fine.”
The TARDIS flickers her lights, annoyed.
“It’s not about me. It’s about keeping Donna safe, which means I can’t be here.”
The door cracks open threateningly.
“I’ve been fine!” The Doctor shouts, getting to his feet. “I don’t need this!” He pauses, screwing his eyes shut. “I can’t afford to be selfish like this.”
The ship hums comfortingly.
He runs his fingers through his hair, blinking back tears. “I want to,” he admits. “I want to stay. I just can’t.”
Silence.
“Maybe I should,” the Doctor narrates quietly. “Maybe I should stay. Maybe I should trust you. And Donna, and my future self.”
The TARDIS remains silent. The Doctor sends her a harsh look. “I’ll think it over,” he decides. “But don’t think we won’t be talking about your attitude later.”
The ship shakes in laughter, sending a wave of comfort and relief into the Doctor’s mind.
He places a soft hand on her door. “Thanks, old girl.”
-
The Doctor lies awake in the guest bed, watching the shadows dance. Shame curls beneath his skin. To think he almost abandoned Donna again—
All these things: the toothbrush, the clothes, the room, the bed—
And he can’t even sleep.