Notes: This is an experimental crossover fanfiction with Neil Gaiman's The Sandman. I wrote another crossover called "Down by the waters" and I've been playing with this idea that the Endless have been very invested with the Doctor since he was a child, especially Dream. Your enjoyment of this fiction will be enhanced if you have read Gaiman's graphic novel. I plan to write some drabbles with the other companions meeting an Endless at one point while traveling with the Doctor. For now, there's Donna, because it was such an injustice that she forgot everything about the Doctor. This work would be cathartic for Donna fans who want Donna to return to the picture. I know it's like that for me while I was writing this. In which case, enjoy reading! This fic is also dedicated to my friend Elena for Christmas 2013.

SONGS FOR THE NOBLE AND LOST

I. Dusk

An uncomfortably good-looking bloke bought Donna a drink as soon as she sat on a stool inside a pub that's overcrowded in a hideous fashion for a supposedly mellow Sunday night. She looked at the pint with suspicion, as if she was actually offered drugs in liquid form. And with the kind of locale hanging about this place, it's not unlikely.

The holiday cheer didn't feel like a good enough excuse for Donna, personally. Adults her age shouldn't spend their nights on a sleazy joint like this for the promise of unlimited beer and free margaritas. But she shouldn't judge (since when did she become her mother?) But nights like this in a place so depressing made her even more thankful that a modest, loving man has put a ring on her finger at last.

"Happily married with kids" is something a gal like Donna has given up on becoming since she hit her thirties. But it happened so suddenly that she forgot why she even worried about it before. As kooky and pathetic as it may seem, getting hitched to a husband so good in every way, and giving birth to their son were her proudest accomplishments because honest to Jove it finally shut her mum up. That was probably the best bit about married life. Now her mum has other things to criticize; like how she's raising Smith (and why she even gave the boy a last name) and Donna's hair.

Instinctively, Donna ran her fingers quickly through the curly tresses of her new hairstyle. Her mum said it made her look "poofy" and that it called attention to her chin way too much (and whatever on Santa's name that even means, she has no way of knowing).

Donna surveyed the place and spotted the uncomfortably good-looking bloke who raised a glass at her direction as if to acknowledge that it is indeed he who wanted to get her drunk. She pushed herself off the stool and lifted the pint as she began to approach him. She had to shove past the singles standing around the place just to get to the table. Narrowing her eyes at him, Donna barked. "Oi!"

He still grinned at her even if it was apparent to the both of them that she did not appreciate his gesture and the intent behind it.

"You can have this back," she pushed the pint of cold beer into his grasp.

"Turning down a drink with me just 'cuz you're married?" he was still smiling.

"Oh, I get it. You think you're Mr. Slick, aren't you?" Donna shot back. "Don't have a problem about hitting on a married woman at all? Is that what you're about then?"

"I meant no disrespect, girlie—"

"You listen now and you listen good," Donna placed her hand on the table and leaned in so he could feel the full measure of her glare. "I'm no girlie and I'm certainly not going to be yours either. It's gonna take a lot more than cheap beer to make me come around and even then you still can't afford me, Mr. Sleaze."

"I think I could rise to the challenge," he remarked as he made a move to grab her hand from the table. Donna would have punched him with the other but was fortunately spared from getting into a brawl when a man came out of nowhere and stepped in just in time to grab the smug bastard's wrist and twist it. The bastard howled.

"Now see here, laddie," the man was saying as he twisted the wrist. "It's only right to respect your elders. Now apologize to the lady."

Donna would've thanked him but she realized that his supposedly chivalrous declaration was insulting. "Elder? Are you trying to help me or make me feel even worse?"

She slapped the back of her rescuer's head. The impact made him let go of the other man who was smart enough not to engage further and instead ran out of the pub.

Her rescuer took the pint of beer and gulped it down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Donna stared at him now. His unruly red hair was more orange next to her tamer color. His beard was badly maintained as well. "Blimey," he remarked, cocking his head to the side as he gazed at her. "You're not easy to please, are you, missus?"

"It's Donna," she emphasized. "Not girlie, or elder or lady. It's just Donna."

"Donna is the Italian term for 'lady," Another man appeared behind the ginger one. He was tall and thin in ways that seem to defy the impossible. He was also cloaked in a large dark coat of some sort and all he had to do was to spare everyone in the room with a dismissive glance and they all stopped snooping and went about their own business again.

As soon as the crowd dispersed, the ginger guy turned to his intimidating companion and said. "I don't think she will appreciate any dry rhetoric from you, Murphy."

"Well, then. Glad to hang around here long enough to know that this was a complete waste of my free time," Donna announced to no one in particular. "Gents," she tipped an invisible hat towards them and then she turned away. But the ginger guy interjected.

"Do you mind starting over, Donna? That wasn't how I want all of us to get acquainted. I hope such an ill-fated event won't sour this opportunity for you."

"What opportunity?" Donna crossed her arms.

"To make new friends," the ginger guy had a clumsy smile as if he wasn't sure if he should smile. But it made him look harmless and sincere nevertheless.

"I got plenty of that," Donna rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not a weirdo."

"Oh, yes. You're a pleasant cherry so how could I not believe that?" the ginger guy stepped forward and extended his hand. "Hello, Donna. I'm Hob. It's a pleasure."

Donna kept her eyes on his face. "I won't be so sure about that, Hob." But she gave in and shook his hand anyway. And then she glanced at his murky companion.

"This here is Murphy." Hob patted the tall man's shoulder. Donna didn't think that Murphy liked how familiar and casual Hob is acting. She could see the way his unreadable eyes flicker almost irritably while Hob's hand kept patting him.

"You probably need to stop that," she pointed out.

"What? Me and Murphy go way back." But Hob did take her advice and removed his hand from his companion's shoulder. He gestured at the bartender to get another drink.

"Well, I should go." Donna said again but her feet disobeyed. And Murphy was staring so intently at her that it's giving her the heebie-jeebies.

"But you won't," Hob sat on where the smug bastard was sitting earlier and crossed his legs. He took out a cigar from his vest and lit it. "Come on. No need to stand on ceremony, both of you! Pull up a chair and drink."

The bartender himself walked over to place a bottle of cognac and some champagne glasses on their table. That was odd. Regardless, Donna let out an exasperated sigh and pulled a chair. Before she could even sit on it, Murphy was already seated next to her, looking still as calm water. She tried not to look at him anymore.

"So Donna," Hob began. "How's life?"

"What?" she didn't mean to go all defensive again but this was just confusing. "You haven't met me before or anything so why are you asking me that like we've been friends for a while and now you're just checking up on me?"

"Bloody chestnuts on a fire," Hob remarked, hiccupping a bit. "I had no idea you're so insufferable. I wish I was warned."

"Well, color me shocked, you don't know me at all." Donna intervened. "On that pleasant note, you can go right ahead and stop assuming things about me."

"All I did was ask about your life, Donna."

"My life is good," Donna announced with a tone of finality that also sounded like she's rejecting any kind of interrogation about it.

Hob winked at her though. "But it could be better, yeah?"

Donna doesn't want to talk to this Hob person anymore. But she didn't think Murphy is a stunning conversationalist either. Still, she found herself asking him. "What sort of business would bring a pair of you loonies in this place?"

"Our own," Murphy answered her briefly with an out-of-place courtesy that was even worse than Hob's easygoing presence.

"Well, all right." Donna poured herself some cognac and gulped it down once. She then pushed herself off the chair. "That's it for making new friends. Bye."

"We need your help, Donna." Hob spoke softly now. "We wouldn't be having this conversation if it's nothing serious and if you're not the person we're looking for."

Donna has had enough of this cryptic talk though. She buttoned up her coat and zipped it up. "So sorry, gents, but asking a stranger for help won't always work," she sassed. "Not everyone is a good Samaritan who's ready to lend some poor sap a hand."

"You're not as cynical as you pretend to be, Donna," it was Murphy who spoke to her now and he stated it as if it was an indisputable fact she can't argue with.

Donna hated him already. "Piss off, would you?"

She was walking out of the pub now. She didn't care to look behind her to see if they're going to follow after her. Thankfully enough, they didn't.

So much for being the person they're looking for.

But Donna did linger outside for a while to gaze at the thick sheet of snow that covered the ground beneath her boots. There was something about the cold that was somehow consoling. She closed her eyes now and listened to the silence as it reached out and soothed her old bones. Opening her eyes again, Donna started to leave the place. It's a Sunday night and she should have just stayed home with her family from the start. Her mum is going to say a couple of nice things about her wandering off again. Fantastic.

With only twenty yards away from the pub, Donna couldn't resist looking back.

Nothing. Just a quaint pub with yellow lights and a whole world she's not a part of.

It shouldn't have made her sad but it did.

"My life is good," Donna repeated quietly to herself as she walked through the snow.

"But it could be better, yes?"

Donna stared at the sandcastle before her and silently agreed but she's not going to let some stupid raven make her labor through making another one just because this castle wasn't good enough for either of them. Donna looked across the sunset on the horizon and decided that she needed to rest. "I don't know, Matthew. It's kind of the best I could do."

"That's not true, toots." Matthew the raven remarked. "You can do so much more."

"I'm tired, Matthew, all right? I'm just tired. So leave me alone!" she waved him off but he simply flew away from her and landed on top of the tallest tower of her sandcastle.

"Don't go blaming me for your shortcomings now," Matthew said.

"Please," Donna raised an eyebrow. "Like you'd know anything about it."

Matthew haughtily walked around the tower in circle and let out what sounded like laughter to her . "There you go again, projecting your failures on me."

"Stop calling me a failure! You're just a dumb bird! I don't need to take this from you!" Donna took a fistful of sand and threw it at him.

The snowball collided with Donna's forehead. She blinked through the white chunks and felt her cheeks burn up as she heard laughter around her. That grating, beautiful sound came from Smith, her four-year old. Donna roared at him and chased him for a while in their living room until she managed to hold him by his tiny waist and lift him up. He giggled. She laid him gently down the cushion and threatened to eat him by using her "scary voice" as she roared, "Mommy's hungry! Num-num-num-num!"

Smith let out another high-pitched giggle while she nibbled happily on his fragile, sweet-smelling belly. "Mommy's a fat monster!" he shouted.

"Oh, I'm fat? Then what do you call these plump little legs of yours?" She tickled his feet and he kicked at her, snorting and laughing as he shook in her grasp.

Finally, Smith made a peace sign to tell her he surrendered.

Donna chuckled and helped him to sit up. "You just never learn, do you?"

"You just never learn, do you?" Smith shot back, imitating his mother's voice. He then pointed at her and said in the most authoritative tone he could muster. "Do not forget this night, peasant, for you shall cross swords with the Mighty Smith once again!"

Donna bit her bottom lip so she won't explode. He's just so cute when he's acting all tough and strong. "All right, you great warrior, you!" she swooped in and carried him on her shoulders. "What would his majestic warriorship have for supper?"

"Sausages and eggs, peasant!"

"But your majestic warriorship, you've already had that for breakfast."

"Silence, peasant! Cook me my meal or suffer death!"

Donna was laughing now. "All right, my little warrior, as you command."

"No, don't kill me!" Matthew was trying to flap his wings to get away from her but Donna was clutching him in place. "Please don't squeeze me so hard, you crazy bitch!"

"Then don't try to claw me again, you ugly piece of—"

"Donna!"

They both looked up to see Abel stumbling towards them as he tried to run. It was clear that such an activity took too much effort for him because he was already coughing and wheezing with just a few steps. Donna felt sorry for him so she tried to meet him halfway. The sand today was particularly hard to walk in. Her feet kept sinking. She would have grabbed the jog of water that's secured on the belt around her waist. The water would help harden the sand if she poured some on it. But that would mean she needed to release Matthew and she's still pretty pissed at the things he said about her earlier.

"Look, Donna, I'm sorry." Matthew was saying. "I don't know why I snapped at you like that. But let bygones be bygones, toots. We're mates, you and me."

"Mates don't say cruel things to each other!" Donna shot back.

"Let me make it up to you, Donna." Matthew pleaded. "You know I'm good for it."

"You always say that but you never get me anywhere and I'm still stuck on this beach!" Donna snapped at him. "You want to prove you're as good as you say you are then you know what to do. Take me someplace else."

"But where do you want to go? This is your landscape. I'm merely a passenger here."

"More like a trespasser!" Donna insisted. "Now swear to me we're going away somewhere less desert and sand and where I can actually have fun."

"I can't control that!" Matthew answered, shaking in her clutch. "This is your dream, Donna. If you want to go somewhere else then change your landscape."

"Don't you think I've tried?" Donna finally let him go. The raven hurriedly flew away but hovered above her as Donna took the jog from her side and poured down the water. The sand immediately hardened from where she stood. She walked it until she reached Abel. The older man was short and stout and she can't help but feel sorry for him all the time. She wrapped her arms around him to lift him up.

"Please, Matthew," Donna said. "If I always come to this—what do you call it?"

"The Dreaming, Miss Donna," Abel answered.

"Yes, that. Then I don't want to spend the rest of my time building bloody sandcastles all day!" Donna was tempted to throw something at the bird again but decided against it. "If you meant it when you said that we're mates then please."

"But where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere but this dry place," Donna looked around and then she paused. She knew she shouldn't push for it (that was Matthew's first rule since she arrived here) but she just couldn't help herself. "If you could just lead me out of here, I guess I can start searching for him by myself then." She could see Matthew was about to protest but she went on. "No, please, don't tell me I won't see him again. I refuse to accept that!"

Abel was holding her hand now. "We're not lying to you, Donna. The sooner you accept the way things are, the better things will get."

"And how could things ever get better again for me?" Donna shook Abel's hand away but instantly felt bad about it. She regarded Abel with a softer look as she explained. "I can't stay stranded here because I don't belong here. I'm supposed to be traveling by his side. And if he can't come back for me like you said then that only means he's in danger and I have to help him. So please, Matthew. Please, Abel. I need to see him again."

"It's impossible, Donna."

She glared at them and insisted. "Nothing's impossible with the Doctor!"

"So sorry, Donna," Abel tried to hold her hand again. He gave it a squeeze.

"Don't." Donna warned him as she felt her eyes tear up for the first time since she got here. "Don't you dare say it because it's not true. He couldn't have done that to me."

Abel opened his mouth but no words came out. Matthew perched on his shoulder and said it for him. "The Doctor's gone, Donna. He left. I mean, just look at where you are now."

As Donna allowed herself to gaze out the ocean, Matthew followed suit and then he added. "You're lifetimes and many worlds away from the man you call the Doctor. It's time you accept and live with that, Donna. There's nothing else."

She withdrew her hand from Abel's grasp. "No. There's always something."

Without a warning, Donna started to run.

Donna kept spotting the man who introduced himself as Hob a few more times in random places for some weeks now. She thought that he must have been stalking her but it would seem like she's the one who keeps finding him in these places. Hob would be surrounded by other people, drinking and laughing and sharing stories with them. Other times he would be on a corner somewhere, reading a book all by himself. In all these instances, he never seems to know that Donna was there and she realized that she may have been the one stalking him which is bollocks because she's not even aware of it.

'A lack of awareness while stalking' should hold up beautifully in court, sure.

The coincidences, if she takes them as a whole, are almost terrifying. It's as if the universe wants them to meet again but Donna doesn't believe in such nonsense. In fact, why would a larger than life entity like the universe even bother sending her creepy messages about some stranger she just met at a pub one time? That's a bit of a stretch, isn't it? Besides, it's not like Donna is anything special.

Keeping her pragmatic sense of handling things intact, Donna ignored these baffling coincidences and went on with her quiet happy life with her husband and son. She went to the office, bought groceries every end of the week, pretended to go to the gym, gossiped with her hairdresser, sneaked drinks during lunch break with friends at work—all those wonderfully repetitive things that average folk are preoccupied with. Since meeting the love of her life and with Smith in the picture now, Donna has learned to love her life for what it simply is, even the most distasteful bits that get under her skin. It's fine because her life is good. It doesn't need to get better. She has Smith.

He's everything in her life that's special.

It was a Thursday evening right after Donna just managed to put Smith to sleep when the man named Hob appeared on her doorstep and asked for her help. She reacted like any normal person would in that situation who met this mysterious stranger again when she swore to forget him: she slammed the door on his face and grabbed the phone to dial the cops. But Hob insisted that it's a matter of grave importance.

"Donna, please!" He was still out there but now he stopped knocking. Donna thought he might be leaving now but she could still see the outline of his shadow from the crack beneath the door. She held the phone, ready to punch in the numbers when she heard him speak again and a little louder this time. "It's about the Doctor."

Donna cowered away, stepping backward as silently as she could.

"What are you on about? Doctor who?"

"Doctor!"

Donna ran and ran until she was convinced that she's just going around in circles.

"Doctor!" she kept shouting at the air but the call hardly echoed. Everything around her was still made of sand and she was more lost than before. But Donna wasn't discouraged. She didn't stop running or trying to find a way to get out. "DOCTOR!"

She must have hit a rock because now she's tumbling down a slope. The sand was so soft that the crash didn't really hurt and yet Donna felt like everything in her body ached.

Sitting there in the overwhelming stretch of desert, Donna called for the Doctor again. But it's becoming clear to her that no matter how long and how loud she shouted for him, he's never going to answer her back. The Doctor's gone. The Doctor left.

"Doctor, please." Donna covered her eyes with her hands and wept. "I'm not supposed to be here. I was going to travel with you forever. The Doctor-Donna…"

She kept on whispering their names together in vain. But Donna couldn't run anymore. Her legs have gone numb and her eyes are blurry with tears and sand.

"What doctor are you talking about?" Against her better judgment, Donna opened the door. "Our pediatrician? Did something happen to Dr. Scott?"

"No, don't know him. But I'm sure he's just dandy—"

"Well, great then!" Without warning, Donna clutched him by his lapels and slammed him against the wall. "Now look here, you slimy, creepy little...ginger—!"

"Really? Have you looked in the mirror—"

"Oh, don't get cute with me! Now tell me why I keep seeing you around because I refuse to accept that those are just coincidences because they're far too plenty and consistent to be coincidences! And then you just show up in my house like this! What am I supposed to think?" Donna tightened her hold on him. "And don't even deny it!"

Hob just stared at her for a few seconds. And then he placed his hands gently on top of hers which are still balled into fists. "Oh, Donna."

"What?"

"I didn't know." Hob had a strange expression in his face as if something unseen was hurting him. Donna loosened her grip. "I should have known. I just thought that..."

"You just thought what?" Donna released him and stepped away.

"I'm sorry," Hob was shaking all over and this scared her. "I thought that if I found you then...I never should have asked for your help. I shouldn't have come here."

"Then go away! And I better not cross paths with you again, Hob or whoever you really are!" Donna shoved him off her doorway and out in the street. She didn't dare risk it again so she ran back to her house and locked every door. She then rushed to her son's bedroom to see if he woke up and got scared to find himself alone in the dark but Smith was still sleeping. Donna sat by his bedside and didn't leave until the next morning.

She could have been crying for ages and she wouldn't have known. Everything in this landscape remained unchanged but Donna wasn't scared anymore. She felt no fatigue or hunger or thirst; just the emptiness, and it was swallowing her soul.

It's been two weeks and Hob never showed up again. She didn't see him anywhere anymore either. This was good. But something unsettling was still at the pit of her stomach and it haunted her. She could push it away no matter how hard she tried. It kept weighing her down until her mum noticed and inquired if she's been eating right.

"Look, hon, enough with your reckless dieting. We both know you're not made to be that fit." To show her concern, her mum looked after Smith for a week so Donna could take some extra time to rest after work. She even cooked the family meals which her mum argued are healthier options than the processed garbage that Donna's been accustomed to.

For her part, Donna didn't mind. Her mum's presence was quite reassuring and their conversations kept her mind distracted. The only problem was Smith because the boy was surprisingly inquisitive for his age and Donna didn't want him to worry about her. It's not a child's job to daunt over his parent, so she agreed to switch schedules with her husband Joey so he would spend more time with Smith while Donna stayed over once in a while at her mum's during the weekends.

Her grandfather was more than happy to spend some time with her again. Donna could feel him growing weaker each day but he's still the same old tough bear. He's also just as obsessed with stars and aliens and the likes and Donna would indulge him by listening to his latest theory about extraterrestrial life-form in some distant planet. But even with these distractions, Donna would still think about Hob and the man he was with at that pub—that tall and thin apparition in dark cloak. The one he called Murphy.

Donna would lie in her mum's bunk at night, trying to remember what Murphy looked like. But the moment a clearer picture would settle in, she'd be fast asleep.

It began as a low hum at first that it was easy not to notice. But there was no mistaking what it was though Donna could not remember where she heard it before.

Still surrounded by sand, she tried to put the pieces of this dream together. She was no longer crying by now, but the stain of dry tears on her cheeks reminded her of the ache in her chest that dulled the moment the rational side of her began to process some things. Matthew and Abel were nowhere in sight and Donna wished she didn't run off like that earlier. They were the only friends she had. She almost thought about him again and that wasn't good because the anger was beginning to drown out other emotions. Donna didn't think she was ever capable of such rage. But then again, she never really thought she was capable of anything special until the Doctor came along and showed her how.

She's dwelling on him again and it's pissing her off. She shouted lovely profanities instead and didn't care who heard because everything is better than this suffocating silence.

And then there it was.

That song.

Donna couldn't have been mistaken. There's definitely singing but she doesn't know where in this stretch of desert it's coming from. It's like a chorus of some ballad but it had no words. And Donna heard it a long time ago. But how long has it really been since she was stuck in this place? Matthew said she's dreaming. Does she even want to wake up?

The singing persisted. Donna crawled around to follow the sound but the more she tried to locate it, the more it would come from different directions. She's had enough of this.

She stood up and shouted. "Bugger off, you incessant singing pieces of sh—"

She squealed when she realized what she had stepped on. Donna knew better than to move or the quicksand will only continue to devour her. She steadied herself and tried to breathe normally. Closing her eyes, Donna focused on waking the hell up.

Something landed in front of her. She could hear the sound of wings. Matthew?

When Donna opened her eyes, a very pale thin woman was watching her. Her alabaster skin seemed luminescent next to the yellow sand. She was dressed in a dark dress and wore a pair of purple chucks. The sight of those shoes only reminded Donna of everything tragic and wrong in this place. Donna moved to the left just an inch and the quicksand sucked her in again. She almost cursed but then the other woman spoke.

"You're not really dying, you know. So you better stop praying for it."

"What are you?" Donna shot back. "And how would you even know that? Are you a passenger like the others? Well, lady, quit trespassing! This is my damn dream landscape!"

"You summoned me here yourself. You prayed for me."

"I'm not much of a religious person." Donna remarked. "You an angel of some sort?"

"No."

Donna waited for her to introduce herself but the pale woman didn't say anything anymore. At least Matthew and Abel were courteous. "Well, come on. Who are you?"

"You look stuck," the woman ignored her question and simply pointed out the obvious. Donna wished she could come closer so she could punch her skinny arse.

The pale woman sighed. "I should help but that wouldn't be polite to my—"

"HELPING ME IS THE MOST POLITE THING TO DO, YOU WANKER!"

The pale woman chuckled. "You really do have quite a lip on you, Donna Noble."

"YOU DON'T GET TO CALL ME BY NAME IF I DON'T KNOW YOURS."

"Alas, I'm nameless." The pale woman stepped on the quicksand but it didn't suck her in. It even looked like the whole thing was avoiding her purple chucks. Donna was now terrified so she kept her mouth shut because she knew she had a tendency to blabber on to hide her fear. She was forced to just glare at the other woman and stay still.

"I think Matthew was able to cover everything, starting with the basic knowledge," the pale woman kept talking to Donna as if they had all the time in the world. "You know where you are but not how you came to be. You've lost someone and you're now coming to terms of accepting that he's not coming back. But it's too early to give up on life, Donna. It's easy to think that I'm the answer that could set you free from this pain. But you're wrong." The pale woman approached her and placed her hand under Donna's chin.

Something about the way the pale woman's dark sad eyes looked into Donna's that made the fear disappear. "I'm not taking you because life is just about to begin for you again, actually. So consider it as a gift. You can start over or dwell on the loss. But I strongly advice that you stop seeking me out because there's a time for endings and there's a time for beginnings and though they tend to intersect more often than you think, they're still intrinsically separate events." She withdrew her hand away from Donna.

"But I think you need to start making real progress," the pale woman leaned in and whispered something into Donna's ear. "So call for the Shaper. He's the one to pray for."'

Hob Gadling knows a thing or two about regrets. But you don't have to be an undying pseudo-immortal being to know that. You just have to be human.

He lived sufficiently long enough to start believing that he's no longer a part of the human race but Hob found that he has actually gotten closer to people in general even if he knew he will outlive them all. He even learned to love more fearlessly and appreciate brevities in every form because there's something about knowing that he's the last man standing that makes him want to buy everyone drinks and make sure they're all having a jolly time before the shops close. But centuries of evading death does have its drawbacks. Hob lost people as frequently as he abandoned some. He saw every conceivable ideology or empire perish or rise again. And the best part (or worst, depending on his mood or his choice of drink that day) is he still feels like he hasn't experienced everything yet.

He still feels like he can't die just yet.

But then there's Donna Noble. Thinking about what she had lost that day breaks his heart all over again. He wasn't around when stuff with her happened but he knew enough of her story. World's End couldn't stop telling it. People who hear the story would grieve Donna Noble like she was their own wife, daughter or sister. Hob traveled back to London just to see if in spite that tragedy Donna Noble still lives. And she very much is alive and what a beautiful life she has found herself into. She's got a husband who adores her, a kid who worships her, and a mum and a granddad who kept a secret to protect her even if just the mere contact of such a secret kills them inside. From afar, Hob envied Donna's life. It was simple and ordinary but it was so beautiful. It was complete as long as she didn't know there were pieces of it that were destroyed from a past she should never remember.

Hob couldn't have known about all of this if he didn't get tangled with the Doctor awhile back. The last of the Time Lords was a pain in the arse but he had a petite brunette "assistant" who keeps him company and she reminded Hob of his third wife whom he got along with the best. If he hadn't met the Doctor, he never would have been so curious. He never would have asked Murphy about him and Murphy wouldn't have mentioned the other assistants. Hob couldn't visit Rose Tyler in a parallel universe. Martha Jones is a Torchwood agent and Hob doesn't like secret organizations in general, and Amelia Pond was married to a nice boy called Rory and they have a daughter Hob doesn't want to meet again, at least for the time being. So all that was left to obsess about was Donna Noble, and he wouldn't have come to her if he knew about her story from World's End.

When he met her the first time at her doorstep (he needed help to contact the Doctor), she acted rather angrily towards him. She mentioned about seeing him around all the time and that they couldn't have been coincidences. Hob didn't know what to make of that. The weirdest part is that she doesn't even know the Doctor. And that's when it occurred to Hob. He made a mistake. He never should have sought Donna out. That's when he stopped by World's End and heard her tragic story for the first time. And then he traveled back to London to make amends but arrived at the wrong time, apparently. He met Donna for the second time at the pub which turned out to be the first time for her (and that's when he understood why she reacted the way she did when he showed up to her doorstep). But he did need Donna's help. Something is about to happen to the Doctor; something that requires all hands on board.

Murphy certainly wasn't against talking to Donna. He didn't have to say it but Hob deduced that Murphy had a special connection to the Doctor and that he's just as curious to see Donna Noble in the flesh himself. Hob didn't mean to get caught in a complicated mess such as this but that's the trouble about living for so long.

Hob knows exactly when death is coming for someone he's close to, and he needed to make sure that the poor sap knows what he's about to step into.