A/N: Contains major spoilers for Doctor Who series 9 finale. Read at your own caution. :)

He'd paced around the TARDIS for what felt like days, when in reality it was probably only a few short hours. Since his departure with Clara the Doctor had taken to doing mundane things around the TARDIS to distract himself from trying to remember. Now, for instance, he was trying to solve a long, utterly useless math equation. An equation that just would not come out right at the end. He placed a hand on his blackboard and hung his head in concentration. Math muddled with a feeling of loss; two things he'd never thought to experience at once.

"Have you tried carrying the two?" a voice asked from behind.

He perked up and looked over the equation again. Amongst the mess of numbers and letters he found what the voice had been referring to. Carrying the number he stepped back and marveled at the finished product. He beamed with pride and felt a huge rush of accomplishment come over himself. But suddenly he realized, that voice had not been his conscious. Quickly pivoting on his heel he searched the console room for any sign of an intruder but found none. He even went so far as to have the TARDIS scan herself over. She found nothing.

Though unnerving, he found that he had nothing to be distressed about so he decided to go about his day without thinking of the strange voice. Well, not so strange actually. It felt eerily familiar. Could that have been what Clara sounded like? He wasn't sure. He couldn't be sure.

Settling himself into the library he picked up a few different novels to pass more of his time away. He wanted to get out and explore the universe again but his body wouldn't allow it. He was still grieving over the things he could not remember. One day he will be able to live his life again; but today was not that day.

He could feel himself begin to nod off half way through a Sherlock Holmes novel when he felt a presence in the room. Looking behind him he saw nothing and just chalked it up to exhaustion. Deciding to head to bed and get some rest he gathered his books and placed them on the shelves. What happened next was something he was definitely not prepared for.

"You put the Agatha Christie book in the wrong place, Spaceman," a voice informed him.

Noticing his mistake he quickly revised it, "Oh, yes. Thank you, Donna." After taking longer than he was proud of to realize what he had said he backed himself into the book shelf to look at the woman before him. Donna Noble was in the library. Except, she couldn't be could she?

"This isn't possible," the Doctor mumbled.

Crossing her arms in a sassy fashion she shot back at him, "I figured you would be a bit more pleased to see me. Especially given how we parted, thanks very much for that, Martian."

Stumbling over his words, "I am! I just," he couldn't quit staring at her, "how is this possible? How are you not burning?"

She just smiled at him.

"You can't be real. I must be dreaming."

Her smile dropped, "How could you say that? I am real."

"My mind," he pointed to his temple, "is playing tricks on me. You can't actually be here right now."

"What if I told you, you were wrong?"

"It wouldn't be that shocking. You've told me so before."

"You look like hell," she stated.

"Yes, thanks so much for that, Donna," he replied sarcastically rushing past her and into the console room.

"Oi! Where do you think you're going?" she angrily followed after him.

"I'm going to have the TARDIS scan herself for signs of human life."

"What for?" she huffed.

"To prove to you that you're not really here!"

"Do you realize how daft you sound, old man? If you don't think that I'm real then wouldn't you be scanning the TARDIS to prove yourself right? If I'm not here then there is no need to prove anything to me."

He glared at her. Real or not she was the same old Donna. Instead of annoyance, he found comfort in that. He wanted so much for the TARDIS to detect human life. He wanted her back at his side, running for the rest of their days. But the loud ding that sounded made his hope falter.

"No human life detected," he told her sadly.

She smirked at him, "Still doesn't mean I'm not here with you right now."

She paced around the room, looking at it up and down, "You've redecorated."

He nodded.

"Well, I don't hate it. But I do miss the coral."

"It needs more round things," he told her.

"They're in your," she thought, "third storage room. The one with all the Christmas decorations."

He sat down, "I knew I had more somewhere!"

She looked down on him, "Your face, there's something wrong with it. It's not quite right."

"I have regenerated twice since the last time I," he stopped himself.

"Ah," she began, sitting across from him at his chess board, "you're feeling it. Right now."

"What? What am I feeling?"

"The memory loss," she answered nonchalantly, "the frustration of knowing that there is someone or something very important that you should remember but you just can't. It feels cold and lonely. The sadness that comes with it, it hangs over you like a storm cloud. It's," she pondered for a moment, "like constant sorrow."

He arched a brow at her, "If you are real then how could you possibly know about my memory loss?"

"If it's in your head, it's in mine."

He shook his head fiercely, "No, that can't be. That part of you is," he wanted to say dead, "gone."

"Is it, though?" she questioned and waited for him to continue.

"Her name was Clara and she was my friend," he told her.

"His name was the Doctor and he was a daft alien but I loved him. Best friend in the universe."

The Doctor laughed.

"Are you laughing? Are you seriously laughing right now?" She asked, furious.

"I'm sorry!" he said wiping a tear from his eye, "It's just, you're obviously a figment of my imagination and I'm basically talking to myself right now. I just stroked my own ego!"

She looked hurt, "You're not talking to yourself you are talking to me."

He didn't know what to say.

"Don't I matter anymore at all?"

Despite not being as comfortable with touch as he had once been he felt the need to hold her hand. He reached across the table to place his hand on top of hers but it fell through her and touched the table. Even though the TARDIS confirmed Donna not actually being aboard, a small part of him was still holding on to the hope that if he touched her she would be solid. His already broken hearts broke further. He looked up to see that a tear rolled down her face. She seemed genuinely shocked that his hand had gone right through her.

Placing his face into his hands he sighed deeply, "Donna, I'm so sorry," his words gurgled as he continued to shield his face with them, "I wanted so badly to be wrong." He looked up and was baffled to find her gone. Her chair empty and no glimpse of ginger could be found in the console room. It had been like she was never there.