A/N: I did not like the way Donna's story ended, AT ALL, so let's fix that, shall we? And I'm behind on my fic reading (was without internet from Thursday afternoon until Sunday), so if this is like something someone's already written, I apologize.
He can't seem to get rid of her, he finds.
A few weeks after leaving her with her family (linear time, for her—it's been months for him) he completely unexpectedly runs into her on the streets of London—literally. "Oi! Watch it!" she shouts as she stumbles, and turns to face him before he can duck away.
"Wait," she says, voice softer and so close to what he's used to that it hurts. "I've seen you before. You're a friend of my grandad—John Smith, right?"
"Yep," he says with forced joviality. "That's me. Have a nice day."
He flees.
Two months, linear time, and he's investigating some strange disappearances at an accounting firm (it's always the quiet ones). He confidently strides up to the receptionist, psychic paper in hand—
—and stalls, for there is Donna Noble yet again.
She looks up, and her eyes widen. "You!" she exclaims. "What are you doing here?"
"Um, accounting…things," he stammers, cover story evaporating from his mind.
"Right. Of course," she says, eyes flicking down in embarrassment. "Who are you here to see?"
"Daniels," he says, finally recovering, and flashes the psychic paper at her. It's silent for a moment, while she types on her computer and notifies the necessary people that he's there. It's too silent, and even though he knows better, he speaks. "So, what are you doing here? Another temp job?"
"Actually, no," she replies, eyes focused on the screen in front of her. "Got tired of those. This is an actual, permanent job. I'm even thinking about going to university, or maybe just doing a course or something—it might help."
"Bet your mum loves that," he mutters.
She snorts. "She's actually been quiet about it. We've never had the best relationship, but it's been better for the past few months. Don't know what changed."
He does.
But then a man's at the door, waiting for him, and he bids Donna goodbye.
He spends the entire day talking to people and sneaking around the office, and manages to find absolutely nothing. No strange accountants, no mysterious computer files—nothing. He walks to the entrance, dejected.
"Goodbye, Mr. Smith. Have a nice day."
He stops at Donna's pleasantry, and he can't stop himself from turning and facing her. "Donna, are you…happy here?"
She glares at him. "What kind of question is that?"
"Just curious. Sorry." He turns to leave, but her voice stops him.
"Yeah, I guess I'd say I am. Nice place, nice people. It's weird, though—I've temped for years and I've never seen an office so clean."
He stares at her, epiphany unfolding, before he rushes out of the building and around to the back.
A few hours later and he's defeated the Umpthians who have infiltrated the office's cleaning staff. He hadn't noticed them before. No one does, usually.
No one, except for Donna Noble.
He wishes he could tell her that she's saved the world yet again.
Five months, linear time, and he's not even in London when he finds her again. He's tracking some unusual energy readings, and they lead him to Cairo.
"Now this is just getting freaky," Donna remarks after spotting him in the large outdoor bazaar.
He wants to ask her what she's doing there, since she's already been to Egypt, but then he realizes.
She went there because she met him. She doesn't remember.
"Yeah, it is," he says instead, wishing fervently that he was anywhere but here. "Enjoying your trip?"
"I guess," she answers, looking at the bustle of activity around her. "Not exactly what I'd been hoping for. Everything's planned down to the second. There's no time to explore on your own, to just…get lost. Does that make any sense?"
"Yes, it does," he says past the lump in his throat.
Her gaze wanders back to him, and she does a double take, eyes widening. "Okay, I'd understand catching you in the same clothes once or twice, but this is ridiculous. Don't you ever change?"
He can't help but wince at the familiar words, and extricates himself from the situation as soon as possible.
He doesn't visit Earth again for a long time.
Eight months, linear time, and he's just defeated the Halnots and is watching their ship crash spectacularly into the Thames when a streak of red rushes by him.
"What happened?" Donna asks, turning to him, not even surprised to see him anymore.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Go home, Donna." Please, oh please, just go.
"Oi, don't give me that," she throws at him. "It was aliens, wasn't it? I was asleep last time, but not now. No denying it this time."
Suddenly she stops, eyes narrowing at him in concentration, and his stomach drops. No.
"Are you sure I don't know you?" she asks.
"What are you talking about?" he evades. "Of course you know me—you've met me four times before."
She waves his answer away in frustration. "I know that, you git. It's just…it feels like I should know you better than that."
"Just your imagination," he manages to get out. Donna sighs, and looks over to the wreckage in the water.
When she looks back, he's gone.
In the TARDIS, he desperately pushes buttons and spins knobs. "Get me out of here," he whispers to his ship. "Anywhere. Please, anywhere but here."
Twelve months, linear time, is where he lands, and he could almost scream in frustration.
But he doesn't, because there are flashes of weapon fire and cries of fear in the distance.
He runs.
And runs right into Donna, right in the thick of it a few streets away. Clothes torn, dirt smudged on her face, she looks terrified.
But she's not running away.
"John!" she calls out, and it takes him a moment before he realizes she's talking to him. "What do we do? What can I do?"
She can get out of here, is what she can do. She can't remember this, any of this, and he can't have another death on his conscience. "Come with me!" he shouts, grabbing her hand and pulling her back towards the TARDIS. Get her out of harm's way, and then he can use his ship and save the day.
He drags her back to the alley the TARDIS had landed in, Donna complaining all the way. "John, where are we going? John!"
He lets go of her arm and turns back to her. "You are going home. It's too dangerous out there, Donna." And he can't let anything trip her memory.
She looks at him, incredulous. "And leave you out there alone? Forget it, Sunshine."
"It wasn't a suggestion, Donna. Go—"
He stops, falling into stunned silence as his gaze travels over her shoulder and lands on the fliers papering the alley. There, clear as day, are the words that have been following him for years.
Bad Wolf.
"John?"
It's impossible. But is it? Rose had been able to see everything when she'd taken in the Vortex. Had she been able to see this? Orchestrate all this? Had she known that this would happen to Donna? But what does it mean? Is this a sign that Donna will be okay, if he tells her? Can he take that chance? It feels like he's on a ledge, with nowhere to go.
"John, what's wrong? John?"
It's a year to the day he left her with her family.
He leaps.
"Donna," he says, never taking his eyes off the fliers. "My name isn't John Smith."
It's brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. The year has given her brain time to heal, and the constant meetings with him without knowing his true identity have strengthened it further. There are a few rough moments, as the memories come rushing back, but it's okay. She can remember what happened, with Davros and the Daleks, remember that anything and everything was streaming through her head, but that's all it is—a memory. The Time Lord part doesn't come back. She's all Donna.
She's okay.
She slaps him, good and hard—he's going to feel that for weeks—but he can't bring himself to care. And then she's hugging him, so tightly that he can barely breathe, and he returns it tenfold.
Releasing him, she holds him by the shoulders. "Oh, I'm going to give you hell when this is over," she tells him. "But first things first—let's save the world, yeah?"
"Yeah," he says, and he can't seem to stop smiling.
She heads for the alley entrance but stops, turning back to him. "Are you sure you're all right?" she asks, remembering all the events right before their parting.
And he may still be sad about that, but now he has his best mate back. "Yes," he assures her.
"And that's not just special Time Lord code again for really not all right at all?"
His smile grows even wider. "Not this time."