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“Don’t make me go back, Doctor. Please.” Donna’s head feels like it’s going to explode, but she has to get the words out.
And he doesn’t make her. Not yet.
“Hold on, Donna. Hold on a little longer.”
He puts his fingers on her temples, and she experiences a rush of technical-sounding Gallifreyan she can suddenly understand, and worsening pain, and then: a lessening.
Her eyesight clears. She is plain, simple Donna Noble again, for the most part, no longer the DoctorDonna.
“What did you…?” she asks, her breath coming in gasps.
“I bought you more time.” He sounds close to tears himself, and looks it, too. She’s shared a mind with him; he can’t hide from her anymore.
“I thought I was going to die,” she admits.
“You won’t. But…” The Doctor sighs. “I need to remove all your memories of this. Of me.”
“No. No.” But Donna’s head still aches, though less, and she knows it’s true. “She’s still there, isn’t she? The DoctorDonna.”
The Doctor’s uncharacteristic silence is all the answer she needs.
“How much time have I got?” she asks.
“Less than ten minutes.”
The Doctor hugs her. Or maybe she hugs him. It’s hard to say.
When they finally stop, his face has arranged itself into a fairly good impression of his normal smile, if a bit sad. “One last trip, Donna Noble! What do you say?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice wobbling, and then the Doctor’s pulling levers like a madman, and the TARDIS wheezes in a way that reminds Donna of goodbye.
When the Doctor opens the door, Donna can’t help but gasp. They’re in a cave that twinkles with all the lights of the galaxy. She doesn’t know how big it is, but it seems infinite as the night sky.
It’s beautiful.
“Where—?” She can’t even finish the sentence, too absorbed in these reachable stars.
“New Zealand,” says the Doctor softly. “Earth. 2009.”
She’s afraid she’ll cry again. “Do you mean—?”
“You don’t need a TARDIS to travel, Donna. Your planet’s brilliant on its own.”
“Oh! Oh, Doctor, thank you.” She hugs him again, and they stay there, gazing at the lights, which the Doctor overexplains as some kind of sticky bug, but Donna doesn’t mind.
Finally they go back to the TARDIS, and the Doctor turns to her, reaching for her temples again.
“Wait. One last thing,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. “Don’t be alone, spaceman. Ever. You’ll miss me, but you need to find someone else. Promise?” She hopes her tone is the right balance of threatening and loving, and the Doctor’s face tells her she’s got it right.
“Promise.”
And Donna knows that even if she doesn’t remember a thing, this moment will live forever in some part of her.
“Goodbye, Donna,” says the Doctor.
“Goodbye,” echoes the DoctorDonna, restored for one final moment.
Distantly she hears the Doctor whisper an apology, and she finds herself dropping off to sleep.
Donna dreams of the night sky.