A/N: Story and chapter titles taken from the musical Les Misérables.

Chapter 1: Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

She came in silent as the grave, her footsteps unremarked by the metal grating of the floor. He was tinkering under the console, completely unaware and unprepared for her entrance when he heard her voice.

"Doctor, you need to eat."

"In a moment, Donna," he said through the screwdriver he had clenched in his teeth.

"No. Now," she responded emphatically.

The Doctor sighed as he slipped the tool out of his mouth and tried positioning it at the right angle above him, "Donna, I really need to get this done."

"We've been sitting in the Vortex for ages, and we can be here for a few ages more, but you really need to eat."

"Donna-"

"No, listen to me, Doctor. I don't plan on using Emergency Programme One just because you've starved yourself."

Lowering his arms out of the inner-workings of the TARDIS down to his sides, the Doctor frowned, "Only because I've starved myself? So you do plan on using it, but just not if I've starved myself?"

"Well, with how reckless you are I'm bound to use it eventually. And yes, if you starve yourself I won't use it because it's not in my plans. I'll just open the doors and let you out to float in the Vortex while I fly solo."

He had to lay there a moment to take that in, "That's harsh."

"And so's the realization that you're dead because I couldn't feed you."

"I'm almost done, Donna."

She snorted in disbelief.

"When I finish this-"

"No, you're not. Because when you finish this, then you're going to notice something else and try to fix that. And when you're done with that, you'll go to the other and never actually eat. Which you need to do. Right now."

"Donna, I really need-"

She made a strangled noise of frustration. Then there seemed to be a deep breath taken. She didn't say anything though.

He lay there a moment longer, contemplating if he should just come out to see what she was doing when he heard her voice again.

"Eat up, Spaceman."

The nickname was accompanied by a clatter.

Angling his head, the Doctor could see a thick sandwich on a plate sitting by his legs that were extended out from the console. He shimmied out with a grin, and took a large bite. He really was famished.

Looking around, he realized that she wasn't there anymore. "You're not going to eat with me?" he called out with his mouth half-full.

Her voice rang out from somewhere down the hall, "Who am I to take you away from your tinkering?"

He chuckled.

Again, like the first time, Donna had come into the console room like a ghost. No footsteps to herald her arrival before she was talking, "Doctor, you need to sleep."

"I will, I will," he dismissed her, "Just give me a tic."

"You haven't slept in a while, and you really should before you end up dead on your feet."

"I'm a Time-"

"Yeah, yeah, I already know that rubbish about your superior physiology and not needing to give in to baser needs. But you haven't slept in days."

"Well, when I finish this-"

"That's what you always say," she muttered.

"And this time I mean it."

"You say that too," she countered.

"Honestly, Donna," he began almost patronizingly from where he lay on his back underneath the TARDIS console. "You're worrying for absolutely no reason whatsoever." He almost dropped the spanner on his face as he discounted her opinion because his aching muscles were crying out for release. "If you're so bored, go read a book or something."

As he said it, he realized that probably wasn't the wisest thing to say. And definitely not the wisest way to say it. The Doctor could practically feel the storm building up in Donna; even the TARDIS seemed to be affected as her usual whirring and humming became more agitated. He readied himself for the implacable onslaught. Both of the verbal and physical variety.

"Spaceman," she growled in a warning tone, much like one typically used on a disobedient toddler, though more menacing since he could hear the restraint that she was trying to use.

"All right, all right," he hastily responded, appreciating his good fortune that she wasn't going to completely chew him out right now. Not yet anyways. Just one last twist to the chronomemoterra coil, and done. The Doctor shimmied out from underneath the console and leapt to his feet. Donna had already left. He started towards the hall, calling out to her with a smile, "How about a bedtime story?"

"Go to bed, Spaceman," her disembodied voice echoed down the hall from the general area of the library.

He frowned. Well, fine. If she didn't want to gently lull a tired Time Lord to bed then that was her prerogative. But it was his prerogative to get his comforts where he could, he thought to himself with a sly smile as he opened a door that wasn't his own.

Crawling into her bed, he snuggled into the comforter, rolling around a bit, reveling in the familiar scent of Donna. His inner voice told him he was being an idiot, but he paid it no mind. Though he did feel a twinge of disappointment that now the bed seemed to smell more like him than it did like her. How long ago did she say she slept? He really shouldn't have wriggled so much. He pulled one of her pillows into his arms cuddling into it. That was better.

The Doctor held some small hope that she would come in and read him a story. Or even just come in and tell him off, which was far more likely. She didn't however. Not that it made much difference, he had dropped off rather quickly. He really was quite knackered.

"Come on, Donna!" the Doctor yelled from the console, a large grin on his face."What happened to 'we need to get out of the vortex, Spaceman?'" He bounded over to the door of the TARDIS, "There's a whole new world out there waiting for you!" He didn't open it yet though. He wanted to savor it, to see Donna's face when she first saw it, "A completely random world, just the way you like it! Might actually be a beach this time!"

There was no answering yell. No laughing demand to 'just hold on a minute, Martian-boy, I need to tie my trainers.' No footsteps on the grating of the console room or echoing in one of the cavernous halls as she made her way to him. No clatter from the kitchen where she might have been getting a snack, not wanting a repeat performance of her allergic reaction on Ptegorla. No sound of several doors being opened and closed in rapid succession as she looked for some random accessory that she couldn't find, accompanied by some choice words or a cry of frustration.

But most of all, there was no Donna.

The Doctor stood at the half-open door, his grin becoming strained, "Donna?"

The only response was the soft beeping and whirring of the TARDIS.

His smile fell to pieces, and his expression became hard, guarded. "Right then." He glanced around, unsure of what to do. The Doctor coughed, trying to get rid of the sudden tightness in his throat. With a soul-weary sigh, he looked up to the ceiling of his ship, to talk to her better, obviously, not to keep the tears from falling. "Please-" his voice cracked for a second, he coughed again, "Please don't do that again. Please." The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, it strengthens the telepathic bond of course; it has nothing to do with the rivulets that are threatening to come down his cheeks. "I'll go out and explore this time, but please. Don't, just don't." It was coming out as a hoarse almost-whisper now, "I don't want to hear her voice if it isn't her speaking." He turned toward the door, pulling it open, before he had a second thought and muttered darkly, "And don't call me Spaceman."

The TARDIS let out a long mournful note. She hadn't meant to hurt her thief. She'd only wanted to make sure that he was taking care of himself. He needed someone.

Alone, the Doctor walked out into the world.

Outside, he only made it a few steps before he fell to his knees and sobbed. There was no witness to his misery except for his ship and the mountains that swayed in the breeze.