A little drabble I thought of after "Midnight" aired. Obviously I own nothing. Yet…

The Doctor walked back into the TARDIS, still not saying a word. He walked into a side room and closed the door, surprising Donna who was left in the control room. In the middle of the dark room was a pool of light with a lectern inside, on the lectern was a large leather-bound ledger. The Doctor walked up to the lectern and opened the ledger at the latest page. An old-fashioned quill pen rested under the book, and the Doctor picked it up and dipped it in the ink well.

He smoothed down the page and made a new entry; the local date, and the galaxy, system and planet involved. He paused before filling in the next column, name. He penned in the word unknown and continued to the next section, notes. He paused again. She was a hostess, and she was human. She had also been brave, very brave; she had known what she was doing and that she wasn't coming back. He finished the entry and flicked back through the ledger, pages and pages of names and dates. He penned them all because someone had to; someone had to remember the dead and their deeds in life - even if he didn't know their names.

When he left the room, still down and dejected, Donna didn't ask what was in the room that she wasn't allowed to go in. Everything the Doctor did had a reason, and she would get into the room in good time.