Donna knew he was unconscious and not dead, because she could see how his chest would rise and fall in the steady rhythm of his breathing. Kneeling down next to him, she attempted to straighten him out and cupped his face.

"Doctor?" she called to him. When he refused to so much as stir, Donna grew worried, but she was not about to let that show. "Now is not the time to have a kip on the floor. You better wake up right now, or I am going to start poking you."

Still no response from the fallen Time Lord, she prepared her poking finger, pressing into his arm a few times. "Come on, Doctor?"

She prodded him quite harshly in the gut this time, which finally initiated a response.

"Oof!"

"Good, you're awake. What were you asleep on the floor for, then?"

"I, um.." The Doctor looked around, seemingly just as baffled. "I don't know." He moved to get up. "That's weird."

"You're telling me."

Many a time, The Doctor had found himself waken from the floor, though usually it was because some enemy had knocked him so. He had no enemies on the TARDIS. He had himself a decent sleep, having found himself unusually tired. Normally he was fine with catching a power nap every week or so - usually on the chair in the console room. He barely even used his bedroom, unless he was unwell. Was that it? Was he getting ill? Perhaps his old age was finally catching up with him? Not that he was considered old for a Time Lord. Each regeneration should last for a good thousand years or so. In a Time Lord's eye, The Doctor was considered incredibly reckless, burning through bodies in no time at all. He had thought he was being sensible, going to bed a dozing off the fatigue. He awoke perfectly rearing to go again. Maybe the fatigue had washed over him again suddenly?

"Think I might check the surveillance mode on the scanner." Brainy-specs in place, The Doctor programmed his device so that it displayed the footage from the last half hour, fast-forwarding it to the point where he entered the console room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, as the video played out. The Doctor on the screen was simply setting co-ordinates as usual. Donna giggled as she watched him stroke bits of the TARDIS, as he waited for his companion to get dressed.

"What?" The Doctor employed at her amusement.

"Nothing," Donna feigned innocence.

And they both turned back to the scanner to watch as the footage showed, The Doctor beginning to sway on his feet and thud to the ground.

"Odd," commented The Doctor, rubbing his chin. Moments later, The image of Donna came in, finding him and poking him. The Doctor looked at his companion, perturbed by her actions. "Donna?"

"What else was I supposed to do? You wouldn't wake up."

The Doctor just shook his head at her, not knowing what else to say and switched the footage off, having caught up to real time.

"You're not going to keel over again, are you?" Donna wanted to know.

"Why?"

"You've still got to find my room for me. And I need you to get that down." She pointed up to where her balloon had lodged itself, in the ceiling.

"Very well, I'll fetch a ladder." From one of the compartments, beneath the floor panels, The Doctor did indeed produce a ladder. To Donna however, it did not seem nearly long enough. That was until he pulled a level on the side, and the entire thing stretched, growing extra rungs. Propping it against the console, The Doctor started to clamber up.

'Hang on? Do you need me to hold it for you?" It didn't seem all to stable to Donna.

"Nah," he reasoned. "Internal stabilisers reinforce it to prevent accidents. Got this thing, special, from the Health and Safety Department on Juthroplure." His voice trailed off and up into the ceiling, as he rambled on about how he prevented an invasion of blob creatures to the city's infrastructure that day, or something, while trying to dislodge Donna's toy.

He came back down, balloon string in his mouth, so he could use both hands to steady himself. A stable ladder was only half important, if you weren't going to take proper measures to stabilise yourself. That didn't stop Donna from whining that she would have his spit on her balloon string now. Putting the ladder away, he checked his scanner again, to see if it would show him where Donna's room had turned up. "She's being stubborn," he complained after a few minutes and banged the the screen with the flat of his hand. We'll have to find it on our own. He was turning away and toward the direction of the corridor, when the room seemed to distort around him and he collided with the ground.

'Doctor!" Donna cried, going to him. "Not again." The Doctor was out for the count. "Why does this keep happening?" Though, she supposed, it was probably better it happen now, than if he'd been all the way up there. She looked to where he'd been retrieving her balloon a moment earlier. That would have been a nasty fall. This narcolepsy he seemed to have developed was turning out to be more dangerous than she initially considered.

A rush of water brought The Doctor to his senses. He spat out a mouthful and open his eyes, to reveal his red-headed companion, armed with an empty cup. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You didn't like me poking you." Donna argued, as The Doctor pushed a hand through his soaking hair.

"I fell asleep again." It wasn't a question. The Doctor could jump to that conclusion easily. He stared up at the ceiling, seemingly to think along the same lines as Donna had previously. He looked at her seriously. "I think we've got to do something about this little problem."

"Where does The Doctor go when he needs a Doctor?" Donna queried, genuinely curious.

"Well," The Doctor scratched at the back of his neck, going to the console, once again, pressing buttons. "I've a friend, who's an expert in these matters."

"Yeah?" Donna probed and raised one ginger eyebrow back at him.

"What do you say we pay another visit to Doctor Jones?" As the TARDIS rocked and rolled, The Donna held on tightly and smiled across at The Doctor, who equally smiled back. They were going to meet up with the wonderful Martha again.