Donna remembered rush hour. Leaving work, moving through crowds of human traffic toward her car or public transport, depending on the job, the commotion and movement and chaos of thousands of people free to go home or out with friends.
It wasn't like that anymore. Sure, there were still crowds, but they were cattle now, tired, beaten-down, fearful things, herded from the shipyards to the slave quarters and back again, day in and day out, giggling Toclafane nipping at their heels.
There was no energy now, no home to look forward to with a warm dinner, a cuppa, and mindless telly to watch. There was just…this.
She flowed with the sluggish crowd into her work-group's usual house, shifting around until she could find a patch of floor far from the windows to sit down. Getting to take your shoes off at the end of the day was one of the few pleasures left in the world.
An older man, Arthur, settled himself next to her. It was hard to meet up with the same people in the press of bodies, but she and Arthur had sat side-by-side several times since being moved here and they enjoyed each other's company, for what it was.
Arthur grunted, nudged her arm, and pointed to an array of marks scratched in the hardwood floor, marking the days. "Make a toast, girl. One year since the end of the world!"
One year. Had it really only been a year ago she'd sat in front of the TV with Mum and Grandad, excitedly waiting for "first contact"? She'd laughed inside, then, relishing being on the inside of the secret joke that alien life was nothing new. Now, she wished it was.
Still, she'd been excited nonetheless. Her trip to Egypt had been a bust and she'd started thinking about the Doctor again, and how, looking back, a little scary might be worth it for all the rest. And the Prime Minister making first contact with aliens? Oh, he'd be right on top of that!
And then the aliens had killed the American president and the Prime Minister had turned into the Master, and she knew, in the blood and the terror, he was there somewhere.
She lost her grandfather that first day when the sky tore open and the hateful metal balls flew into homes and killed 650 million people in fifteen minutes. Militaries fought the Toclafane for a while, but the invincible monsters won, and the rest became something of a blur of fear and anger as the human race was forced into labor camps. There was rebellion, of course, but it was always met with death, and so it gradually faded out into the dull, unending routine of their work.
Donna had fought too, yelling at the Toclafane, at the humans who served in the Master's army, anyone she could. Somehow, she never got shot. They'd happily make examples of people around her, but none ever pulled a trigger at her. After illness in the slave quarters took her mother, she'd even tried to provoke the Toclafane, but none would give her the pleasure of ending this. And so, eventually, her voice wore out and she gave up.
And in all that time, the Doctor never appeared. She began to wonder if she had been wrong and he was far from Earth, unaware this entire nightmare had happened. It was easier than thinking he had been here and hadn't been able to do anything.
And now, apparently, it was a year later and she was sitting in an over-crowded house that stank of unwashed bodies, covered in welding soot, with nothing to eat, too tired to get up and make a bid for her turn in the bathroom.
She leaned her head on the wall and closed her eyes. "Happy New Year, Arthur."
She'd just gotten into a restful doze when a sudden wave of alarm and fear went through the house. What she thought was part of a nightmare turned out to be real: the Master's voice called out in the street. Those who had places by the window tried to move away in fear, but there was no room to do so. Fearful questions were asked and quickly hushed.
One brave man looked out the window carefully. "Oh, god, it's really him. The Master's outside, walking in the street."
"Did we do something wrong today?" someone asked.
"Did we finish the rockets? Maybe he doesn't need us anymore," another voice said.
The man at the window shushed them. They listened as he called for a Martha Jones.
"He's looking for someone in particular."
"Did he say Martha Jones?" a woman asked.
"Yeah. You know her?"
"There's stories," the woman said, even more hushed than the rest, in fear that a Toclafane might burst in if heard. "Say she's shown up all over the world. Got some secret to save us."
"If that's her, we're in trouble," the man by the window said.
There was a yell outside. The whine of a weapon sounded and everyone flinched. It rang out a second time, then was quiet.
"Did he kill her?"
"No," said the window man. "He shot someone from next door and blew up whatever Martha had with her. They're taking her prisoner."
The stirring of interest in the room faded away. Donna relaxed back against the wall, trying to ignore her hunger.
Arthur sighed. "First resistance in a while. Pity."
"Yeah," Donna agreed. She felt for the woman. The Master didn't just kill her; he took her prisoner. That couldn't be good. Still, Martha had actually annoyed the Master enough to come after her in person. Donna liked her for that alone and hoped she made it out.
There was a soft knock at the back door. Everyone jumped. That sound hadn't been heard in months. There was a frozen moment of fear and confusion. A woman near the door looked out and reached for the knob.
"Don't!" another woman gasped.
"Toclafane don't knock," the first woman retorted. "He's human."
She opened the door and let the young man in. Donna tried to peer over the gathering cluster of people to see him, but had to settle for hearing them talk.
"What are you doing? You can't be out at night."
"I had to come and tell you." The new man's voice was rich with enthusiasm, catching everyone's attention. "Martha Jones was here."
"We saw," the man by the window said. "They got her."
"I know, but she has a plan. Get everyone! I have to tell you all. It's going to take all of us to make it work."
"We've tried insurgence," someone said. "The Toclafane outnumber us."
"Doesn't matter. She says there's a way. Martha told us about a man who's here to save us, an amazing man called the Doctor."
Donna shot to her feet, mind ringing with disbelief. "The Doctor? Did you say 'the Doctor'?"
All eyes turned to her.
"Yes," the messenger said excitedly. "You've heard of him?"
"I met him, before the Master. He saved my life, all of our lives. The last Christmas, from that flying star thing. Is he here? Did he come back?"
"I think so," the messenger said. "Martha told us about him, this mysterious man who visits our world and fights monsters."
"What, he's an alien too?" someone asked.
"Yeah, but a good one," Donna said. "Well, where is he? Fighting the Master?"
"He's trying to, but apparently he needs our help. Tomorrow the Master is going to launch the finished rockets. He'll show the countdown so everyone can see. And Martha was very clear, when that countdown reaches zero, we all have to do one thing, everyone at once: think the word 'Doctor.'"
The eager anticipation of the listeners abruptly vanished.
"That's it?"
"Yes. That's all he needs. Martha says that will spoil the Master's plans and give the Doctor his chance."
"What, by thinking?"
"We're supposed to pray for this bloke to save us?"
The hope that had filled the room faded away as the crowd began to drift back, grumbling.
Donna looked around as the messenger tried to win them back and the others argued or dismissed him.
"OI!" she shouted above the noise.
The room quieted and everyone looked at her. Humans rarely raised their voices anymore, and Donna still could project pretty impressively when she was brassed off. With their attention, she glared at them all.
"That's it? Everything that's happened and this is too crazy for you?"
"If wishing worked, the Master'd have been dead a long time ago," a woman muttered. There was a grumble of agreement around the room.
"The Doctor is real," Donna said firmly. "And if he's come back, the Master had better be afraid. Because I've seen the Doctor angry and it is terrifying. I saw him drain the Thames to drown a monster, because he doesn't know when to stop. But that means he'll never give up when he promises to save you too. And he can do some amazing things you wouldn't even imagine. If anyone can stop the Master, it's him."
"Whatever you're drinking, pass it around!" someone called, prompting a chuckle from the crowd.
Donna simmered in frustration and a bit of embarrassment. Even to her ears, it sounded a bit barmy, like a fairy tale. Except…
She frowned. "It's not wishing," she whispered. She looked to the messenger. "Martha said a time, right? A specific time."
"Right," he confirmed. "When the countdown reaches zero."
"One time when we're all supposed to do this. She told everyone in the world the same thing: think one word at one time. If she was just trying to give people hope, why wait till a particular time? Why would it matter? But she said a time."
She looked around at the crowd, who were now listening thoughtfully.
"Everyone on Earth, billions of people, thinking the exact same thought at the same instant. Right when the Master's launching the rockets. That's not a wish. That's a plan!"
"To do what?" asked a young man.
"I don't know. Maybe something psychic, or it'll distract the Master to let the Doctor stop him. Maybe he's made a weapon that uses thoughts or done something to the rockets."
She felt herself losing them.
"Nothing else has worked," she pressed. "Not the army or the rebellions. What do we have to lose?"
She whirled on one man who'd been particularly vocal in his cynicism. "What's it gonna hurt you to think one word for one second? Maybe you're right and I'm crazy. If you are, you can say 'I told you so' and I'll see you in the shipyards tomorrow. But if I'm right…If I'm right…"
The crowd's thoughtful silence was broken by a dry chuckle nearby.
"I'll say this," Arthur commented, "that Doctor must be something to get you excited, girl!" He pushed himself up and nudged a teenage boy next to him. "Come on! What are you thinking so hard about that you can't spare a minute to maybe save the world? Girls'll still be there afterward."
Throughout the house, conversations started and a sense of anticipation began to fill the air. Donna's heart pounded. They had listened. They were going to do it.
A hand touched her arm and she turned to see the messenger had squirmed his way through the crowd to her side. "I have to go to the rest of the slave quarters and spread the word. Will you come with me? I think they'll believe you more than just me."
She nodded, feeling purpose flooding through her. "Sure. Of course."
"I'm going too," Arthur piped up beside her.
"You don't have to," Donna said. "You should get some rest."
"The hell I will! I had two boys before the Master came, so there's no way I'm going to sit here when I can finally do something! So don't you dare coddle me like I was an old man now!"
Donna smiled at him gratefully and felt a fresh ache of grief for her grandfather. She wished once again that she'd confided in him about the Doctor before he passed. She suspected he would have handled things like this very well.
"We'll go too," said a man near her, with a few men and women gathered behind him. "There's a lot of ground to cover if we're going to get the word out to all of London."
They spent the remainder of the night sneaking from house to house, getting every person left onboard. When there were stubbornly cynical groups, Donna came to shout at them until they were willing to try.
As she and the original messenger, Thomas, slipped down a side alley, she looked over at him.
"This Martha, did she say that she travelled with the Doctor?"
"Yes. It sounds like they were close once."
Donna smiled. He'd listened to her. "Good for him. I told him he needs someone with him. He shouldn't be alone."
"You said you knew him?" Thomas asked.
"Last Christmas, yes."
"You didn't travel with him, then?"
The twinge of regret rose anew. "Not after that day. He offered, but I decided to stay here."
"Why?"
She smiled at him ironically. "Because it's safer."
They both laughed in the slightly hysterical way of someone releasing long-held stress.
As the night wore on, new runners spread out to carry the message in all directions, and by dawn the people of London were alive with excitement again.
When the countdown began late that morning, Donna strolled casually down the street, something no human had dared do in over a year. In the houses around her, people were eagerly listening to the countdown being broadcast, getting ready for when it reached zero. It reminded her of New Year's Eve, waiting for the clock to hit midnight, putting the frustrations and disappointments of the last year behind you as a whole new one lay ahead of you, full of hope and new chances.
Donna looked at the sky, wondering if the Doctor was aboard the Master's flying ship. He'd never know she was here. Probably he and Martha would head off as soon as they'd finished, if they survived whatever was about to happen. She envied them a little bit.
The clock was into the double digits now and everyone was counting down out loud. Donna thought back to that mad Christmas so long ago. She filled her head with memories of sitting on a rooftop beside him, of his daft ship chasing her taxi down a motorway. She remembered seeing the beginning of the universe with him, the robot Santas, the rage, the fire, and the sweet, show-offish goodbye, making it snow, then taking off like a firework launching.
For the first time, she could almost hear the bustle of London's busy streets again. She thought of her parents and grandfather, and of the man in the brown suit, and she smiled.
"Doctor."