A/N- Wow, I haven't written DW fanfiction in years!! I didn't watch the show for like three seasons and then I come back and find that all this stuff has happened, and the show is SOOOO GOOD!!!! Gah.

Anyway, moving on... Honestly, I have no idea where this weird Doctor-Who-fused-with-a-little-Peter-Pan oneshot came from, but it came, so I'm giving it to you. It made way more sense in my mind, but... -shrug- Hope you like it anyway! -OA

Neverland

By ObsessedAuthoress

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, and I'm okay with that. It's in the hands of far more brilliant minds than mine. However, I do wish that I owned David Tennant.

She found herself in the most extraordinary place, unlike anywhere she'd ever been before. It was a large, circular room, warmed in a muted golden light, with ramps and handrails and gratings on the floor and round, metallic plates on the walls like so many brooches on a rich lady's collar.

There in the center of that wonderfully insane room was a tall pillar of something blue and electronic, releasing a low whirring sound. At its base was a set of what she assumed were controls, a wrap-around panel of buttons and levers and whats-its that she couldn't even begin to guess the function of.

And below the controls, seated on the floor, was…

Someone.

Brown-clad long legs drawn up to his chest, thin arms encircling his knees, head of thick, soft hair tilted downward, but not enough to hide a glimpse of dark eyes and the crystalline tears falling from them. Bony shoulders trembled with the force of his silent grief.

Though she had no idea who he was, there was something inherently dreadful- and yet, fascinating at the same time- about those tears and how quickly they fell; or perhaps it was the fact that they were falling at all.

"Boy," she said suddenly, breaking the silence, because she didn't think he even knew she was there. "Why are you crying?" And then she wondered why she had called him boy, when he clearly wasn't. But it would have sounded so odd to say, Man, why are you crying?…

His head came up lightning-fast, his expression startled by her intrusion on his privacy. They stared at each other for a moment, and then he grinned, a wide, beautiful grin that very much jarred with the tears still coming.

"I'm not crying," he said cheerfully, as if he weren't aware of any visible evidence to the contrary.

She put her hands on her hips. "Oi, don't go telling me lies when we've only just met. Is that what you call not crying?" He reached up and felt the wetness on his cheeks, then shrugged. "What's your name, anyway?" she wanted to know.

He glanced up at her, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "John," he said. "And yours?" He watched her expectantly, waiting for her response.

"Donna Noble," she replied, confused when he grinned again, like there was something particularly delightful about her name. She couldn't imagine why there would be; it was just an everyday, normal sort of name.

"Yes, you are," he murmured, soft enough that she barely heard, staring up at her with that inextinguishable smile. "Yes, you are, Donna Noble." And his eyes were so very sad.

She walked up the ramp and sat down by his side, thinking that this was a very odd dream. Such a bizarre place for her mind to conjure up, and why did sitting by this man feel so right, so perfect, when she didn't even know him?

"Why were you crying?" she asked again, looking at him curiously.

He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "Who, me? I'm just fine, just peachy, right-as-rain, completely alright. I'm always alright."

She snorted. "Don't be so daft; nobody can be alright all the time. That'd be ridiculous." Ignoring his silence, she nudged him gently with her elbow. "So come on then, out with it."

"Brilliant, you are," he said, ignoring that last part in turn. "Absolutely brilliant, Donna Noble."

"Who, me?" she said doubtfully, echoing his words. She waved a hand dismissively. "I'm just a temp, that's all. Nothing brilliant about that. And stop avoiding the question, you."

He gave her an impish look- except for those anguished eyes. "Sorry, what was it again?"

She gave him a playful shove, and it felt so natural, so real, so right. "Oh go on."

The smile- bright like an eternal sun- faded slowly, leaving only the eyes behind, deep brown like chocolate, but cold where they should have been warm and empty where they should have been full of life.

"For everything I've lost," he said, whisper-soft. "For the ones beyond my reach, for the ones who left me for someone else, for the ones who…forgot me. For the ones who broke my heart." He shuddered, a tremble of the lanky frame that pierced her heart, because it, like the tears, seemed so dreadful. "For the man who gave up his life. For the last one of my kind. For all the children drowning in fire. For the girl born of me, my own daughter-" His voice broke. "-For the woman gone that I don't even know yet. For my people and my home, just dust among the universe now…"

She reached out her arms and pulled him close. "Come here." Locked in her comforting embrace, he wept, silent sobs rising to the unseen heavens.

Much later- or perhaps no time had passed at all- when he had no more tears left to shed, they sat together and he talked of wonderful things, fantastical things that she could never have imagined.

"You can fly?" she exclaimed in disbelief. "To other worlds?"

He grinned at her. "Second star to the right, and straight on until morning- well, technically it doesn't take near that long, but- well, it's not really the second star to the right, and-" He stopped, thinking. "Weeelllll…but anyway, that's not the point, the point is that there are fairytales worth of adventures out there, waiting in the stars."

"Don't be silly!" she said with an incredulous laugh. "No one can travel to the stars. We're just barely sending spaceships out to Mars now, we are. And there's no such thing as other worlds."

He was silent for a moment, regarding her with his head cocked to the side; she didn't understand the regret hidden in those brown eyes, why it tugged at her so. "…S'pose you're right," he said then, rising to his feet suddenly and stretching his tall, thin frame, acting as if he hadn't just cried buckets in her arms. "This is just a dream, after all, your dream, Donna Noble."

She stood up more slowly, considering this. "Yeah," she said finally, giving an uncertain nod. "It's just a dream. I probably won't even remember this when I wake up, yeah?"

"I doubt it," he said unconcernedly. "Just a dream."

"Yeah," she repeated. "Just…a dream." One more glance up into that face, all angles and cheeky grins and ancient eyes- blimey, she felt as if she ought to know that face- and then she turned away and walked back down the ramp toward the door, wooden double doors that she must have come through to begin with. "Well, see ya then," she said, reaching for the knob.

"Donna."

There was something about that voice that drew her back, turned her around again, as if she were used to hearing it, following it to the end of the world and back again. But how could she feel that way when this was…just a dream?

"What?"

And he smiled, one warm and gentle and affectionate that sent a tingle through her, right down to her toes. "Thank you," he said softly, hands stuffed in the pockets of his brown suit. "Thank you."

Donna blinked, coming awake in her bed with the early morning sun streaming in her window. Another morning, just like all the others.

So, why…?

"I had the strangest dream last night," she said at the breakfast table, sipping her coffee. Her granddad looked up from the newspaper, raising a bushy white brow.

"That so? What kind of dream, sweetheart?" he wanted to know.

She thought long and hard about it. "…I can't remember," she said finally, brow furrowed. "I can't remember anything about it, really, except…" She chuckled to herself. "Nah, it's too silly."

"Promise I won't laugh," the old man said with a smile.

Donna returned the smile indulgently and finished off her coffee, rising to fix some more toast. "Oh, it had something to do with the stars," she said over her shoulder. "Traveling to the stars. Isn't that just completely batty?" The phone rang and she picked it up quickly, balancing it between her ear and shoulder while buttering her toast. "Oh, Mary, I was going to call you! There was something I forgot to tell you, about Elizabeth and that bloke at the supermarket…"

Occupied with food and conversation, she didn't see the shadow cross her granddad's face, the sad look in his old eyes. "Batty," he murmured, getting up from the table, knowing she couldn't hear him anymore. "Poor girl…"

And even though the stars were hidden by the sun's golden glow, Wilfred went out to sit by his telescope and watched the skies for a long time.

A/N- And there you have it! Random, right?

If anyone's wondering how I kept Donna from exploding since she met the Doctor in the TARDIS in her dreams, I just look at it like this; dreams are fiction, and therefore not part of reality, and Donna doesn't believe in spaceships and aliens and other planets because they're just stories. Therefore she can't believe in the Doctor either and isn't in danger of remembering their times together. ...Something like that... -whew- That's my loophole, people!

Oh, and part of the Doctor's speech during his meltdown was taken from his dialogue at the end of "The Next Doctor" and so doesn't entirely belong to me. Just fyi.

And the list of people he's crying for are references to what I considered the saddest episodes of the past couple seasons: John Smith from "The Family of Blood", the Master from "Last of the Time Lords", all the people who died in "The Fires of Pompeii", of course Jenny from "The Doctor's Daughter", and the 'death' of River Song in "Forest of the Dead". I'm sure you all picked up on that easily, but I just thought I should add it in case.

Gee, that was a loooong note. Sorry to those of you who actually read it! Review if you liked this; reviews feed my starving soul... O_o Thanks! -OA