The sound of keys tapping slowed as a tall man with a shock of brown hair leaned on the reception desk. Glancing at the newcomer, the ticking of computer keys returned to its brisk pace.
"Welcome, sign in, get a badge. We do not validate parking," the woman behind the desk said in a careless monotone, not looking away from her computer.
"Ah, well, see I'm here to see a friend of mine," the man replied, ignoring the sign in clipboard. "Except I don't know what floor she's on. Don't suppose you could help?" The receptionist looked back up at the man, who was now running one of his hands through his rather spikey hair. Eyes trailing over the brown coat and suit, she pursed her lips.
"Visiting hours are over. Come back tomorrow after eleven."
"It can't be tomorrow. I'm sorry, I really am, but it has to be today." For the first time, there was an urgent undertone and he shifted uncomfortably.
"I'm sorry, I can't. You're not worth me losing my job," the blond receptionist explained sadly. Seeing the disappointment crease his face, she added kindly, "But if you like, I can look up the room number so that you can go straight there tomorrow."
The man perked up. "Really?"
"I need a name to search," the receptionist said with a small smile. Glancing over her shoulder, she pulled up the search program.
"Uh... Try Temple-Noble. First name Donna."
Fingers flying across the keys, the older woman bobbed her head. "Ward 26, last room in the wing."
"Brilliant," the man nodded, suddenly thoughtful. Suddenly snapping out of his reverie, he continued, suddenly business-like. "Well, excellent job, I should be able to pass you with full marks." Pulling out a card from inside his jacket, he flashed it in front of the receptionist. "Surprise inspection from headquarters."
"That was a test?" asked the woman, suddenly worried.
"Oh, yes, but you did brilliantly," he said in a rush. "Now I'm going to go need to inspect some other areas of the hospital. Point me towards Ward 26?" he asked, already walking away.
"Down the hall, to your left, take the elevator to the third floor."
"Thank you," the man said with a genuine smile. "I didn't catch your name."
The receptionist was slightly puzzled. Shouldn't he know this? "Sally."
Even from this distance, she could see his eyebrows jump. "What's your last name, Sally?"
"Robin, but – "
His face fell slightly. "Ah, not quite the bird I was looking for. Still, thank you Sally Robin." And then he was gone with a swish of his long brown coat.
The Doctor hated hospitals. They smelled of sweat and cheap sanitizer that made his nose itch. Stepping off the elevator and onto the third floor, he quietly contemplated his good fortune. Regardless of the sneeze building in the back of his nose, he had gotten very lucky with the room number. He couldn't help but frown as he calculated the odds of landing the TARDIS in the same room as Donna – a week before she had even checked in. Perhaps he was meant to go back in the past and ensure that the she checked into the appropriate room...?
His thoughts were interrupted by a middle aged woman in colorful scrubs that should have belonged in Pediatrics. She had dark hair and skin and a look that said she was not to be messed with.
"I'm not even going to ask how you got up here," she said, positioning herself between the Doctor and the rest of the hall. Arms folded across her chest, she stared the Timelord down. "Visiting hours are closed."
"Yeah, but," the man couldn't help but grin at her glare, "I'm the Doctor."
"We don't have any doctors in this wing for another two hours." If anything, her glare intensified.
"No? Well, that's alright – " he paused, checking her nametag affixed to her shirt "– Lisa. Can I call you Lisa?" he adds, never losing his signature puppy dog grin.
"I can call security."
Finally, the Doctor's smile faded. "Please. I'm here to see my friend. She's not going to make it to eleven tomorrow." There was a sudden fierceness to his tone that caused Lisa to reevaluate him.
"Who are you?"
"Well, I'd say that I was from headquarters, but I have a funny feeling that you're pretty clever," replied the Doctor, carefully eyeing her. "So I imagine this doesn't mean very much to you." Holding up the psychic paper, he scanned her face for a reaction.
"It's blank."
That triggered another grin from the Timelord. "You are brilliant, you are." His smile faded and he continued. "You're clever, really clever. You can tell when people lie to you. Am I lying?"
She looked at him for a long moment. "No."
"So can I see my friend?"
"Who're you here to see?" she asked finally, sounding tired and letting her arms hang by her sides.
"Donna Temple-Noble." The nurse's eyebrows shot up. "Doesn't she get very many guests?"
Lisa sighed. "Not many. Her kids sometimes. Her husband's been dead for years. She's just too stubborn to die." The Doctor frowned at her callousness. She pulled a binder from a shelf on the wall and flipped through a few pages. "She's in critical condition, which means family visitors only."
"Rubbish rule," said the Doctor immediately. "If you're dying you should be seeing everyone."
Lisa looked up at him carefully. "Is that how you're going to go?" she asked bluntly.
"Yeah, someday," the Doctor muttered. He will knock four times. The Timelord shuddered. "Can I go in?"
"We never had this conversation," Lisa said shortly. "I never saw you here," she added, returning to the nurses' station. "Follow the sound of complaints and you'll find her easy enough."
The Doctor nodded his thanks and walked slowly down the hall. A few doors were open, revealing people in various stages of dying. He had a horrible feeling that this floor was not known for its miracle recoveries. Suddenly, there was a shout from the last room on the left. The Doctor quickly made his way over and pushed the door open.
"You call these peas?" came an unexpectedly loud voice from the bed. "Are you trying to poison me?"
A short, harassed young nurse was holding a dinner tray. "They're peas. Honest." He looked up at the Doctor. "Are you my back-up?" he half-whispered.
But the Timelord was staring at the figure in the bed.
Donna Noble was hardly the young woman with whom he had parted so many years ago. Fifty years had leeched the fire from her hair, dug wrinkles into her face, and eaten away at her until she bordered on frailty. But the glare she was giving the poor nurse was so her that he couldn't help but smile. "I'll take over, thanks. Leave the food on the table." The nurse nodded gratefully and scampered from the room, closing the door behind him.
The gray eyes of Donna Noble turned to the Doctor. "Do I know you?" Her voice was surprisingly unchanged, still as bossy and flippant as ever.
The Doctor shook his head. "No."
"But I do," said the old woman with wonder. She pushed herself up a little straighter in bed. "Planets in the sky. You were in my living room. John Smith." Her brow furrowed. "But that was a very long time ago. And you look the same." Eyeing him now with suspicion, she snapped, "What are you? Alien? Hm? My Gramps, oh, he believed in aliens. Bet his pension every time there was a thunderstorm."
The Doctor stepped forward, clearing his throat. "I can show you, if you like. I can show you who I am."
Without waiting for an answer, he walked to her bedside and placed his fingers to her temples. Taking a deep breath, he carefully lowered the wall that blocked her memories. Stepping back, arms swinging back to his sides, he waited. This was it. If she didn't die now, that would be an extremely good sign.
Donna sat, hands folded, eyes wide and unblinking. For a moment, the Doctor thought he saw a flash of gold in the old woman's eyes and his hearts began to race.
Suddenly, she blinked. And again. Shaking her head jerkily, Donna turned on the Doctor with a vengeance of fifty years.
"Doctor, what the hell have you done?" And she added as an angry afterthought, "And why am I not dead?"