I do not own Doctor Who, the Doctor or Donna. If I did, things would be different.

Donna did the only think she could. She used Google. The Doctor had upgraded Donna's laptop soon after she came onboard, but she had rarely used it because the Doctor thought that putting the name of the place they were going, when and the word "horrifying" into Google was cheating. She thought it was common sense. She looked at the letter, there was Versailles and a date. She tried Reinette and Versailles and came up with...

Madame de Pompadour. The official mistress of King Louis XV.

"You are kidding me," said Donna. How was she supposed to compete against some high class tart? And a French one that? Donna Noble, temp from Chiswick versus Madame de Pompadour. She zoomed in on the oil paintings that came up on the image search. Was she very pretty? It was sort of hard to tell on a painting, but then Donna supposed that you didn't get to be an official mistress by being particularly homely.

Damn.

Donna thought she heard the Doctor and quickly put away the laptop and went back to bed.

The Doctor was happy.

Sure, he put on a happy face. He acted as if nothing could touch him and since the Time War there had been brief spurts of joy, existing only long enough to be extinguished, forgotten as quickly as they came. If he had said he was happy then, he was lying, to himself, to everyone. You couldn't be the last of your species, walk around whistling a happy tune and possibly mean it.

He didn't want to say it out loud, it had been so long since he could actually consider himself happy, he hadn't been certain what it was at first, but slowly things looked up. The universe shone a little brighter. He wasn't constantly worried about the bottom falling out from under him anymore.

And that was Donna. That was all Donna. He loved her.

Certainly, he had liked companions and his love for them was mostly of the paternal or the good mate variety, the kind he and Donna said they had. He had loved Rose, but next to Donna it seemed like ephemera. Even Rose he had always kept at arms' length, but it wasn't like that with Donna.

There was one thing that did worry the Doctor, though. Companions always left which was just another reason to keep them at a distance. It's what happened. They found new lives and new worlds and they no longer needed the mad old man in the box. The Library and Lee had been a close call for the Doctor where Donna was concerned. If she found someone, truly found someone, he couldn't see his way to stopping her happiness, because it was a hard thing to be with the last of the Time Lords. Or if one day she said she had seen enough and wanted to go home, he wouldn't hold her hostage inside the TARDIS.

Well, this regeneration wouldn't anyway.

So, he had altered his usual dance card for the tour of the universe. Her happiness was his happiness and so he took her places he thought she would like. Sure, the biggest milliners' in the universe had been a bit tedious after the first day, but it made Donna happy and he soon busied himself with the dragon haunting one of the factory continents anyway. He did anything he could to make her stay.

And he didn't talk about himself. Because he was certain that if she ever found out about him, the real him, she really would want to leave and go home.

Which is why her new mood worried him. She seemed... tired. Was she bored? Was it all getting to be too much for her?

The Doctor slid in the bed next to Donna. He curled up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose in her neck, taking in the scent of her.

She stirred and looked back at him, casting a tired look at him.

"Did you sleep well?," he asked.

"Yeah, fine," she mumbled. "Could do with a cup of coffee."

The Doctor smiled. "I know where we can get one."

Donna Noble couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Planet of the Coffee Shops? You took me to the Planet of the Coffee Shops?"

"Yeah, brilliant, isn't it?"

Why was he taking her to the Planet of the Coffee Shops? Pompeii, Oodsphere, Planet of the Coffee Shops? It didn't quite fit. Donna followed the Doctor into the nearest shop, about three feet from where he had parked the TARDIS and they ordered. Donna sat down with a Latte and the Doctor his decaf drip, which had been ordered at Donna's insistence.

"Why is there a whole planet of coffee shops?," asked Donna. "That has to be a niche market, doesn't it?" Was this the part where he told her the horrifying truth about the Planet of the Coffee Shops?

"Well, they never intended it, it just sort of happened. There was just one coffee shop and then another. The entire southern continent was taken over by Starbucks after the first of the Great Coffee Shop Wars."

Donna smiled and took another sip.

"You can get coffee grown all over the universe here. Any kind of coffee you want, but not a banana smoothie."

"I like the smell," said Donna. "It's nice. Thank you."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"Ever been here before?," asked Donna.

"Once or twice," said the Doctor.

Oh, great, another inexact answer, thought Donna. He was good at that.

"Ever been here on a date?," asked Donna. "Good date spot."

"Suppose so."

Now, he was just going to ignore the question and make a neutral comment, Donna knew all his tricks by now. At least he hadn't made the sad face. She hated the sad face. She supposed she could just ask point blank: who the hell is Reinette? Then he would know she was going through his things and that would be the end of it. Back to Chiswick, back to regular life, back to regular blokes... She had heard Daniel still needed a beard, his mother was getting very concerned about him sharing a one bedroom flat with his roommate, Anthony.

"Donna, is something wrong?"

"No," she said, "why would anything be wrong?"

"Well, you're scowling at me."

"I am not!" She shook her head. "Sorry, I was just distracted."

"About what?"

"Nothing." You and your French tart girlfriend. Mistress to the King of France, I had better not have some sort of eighteenth century herpes.

"Donna, you're doing it again."

Donna realized she had to find a way out of this, preferably one that didn't result in her being tossed out of the TARDIS. A plan finally hit her, it was so elegant.

The Doctor found Donna in the TARDIS library, curled up on the sofa with a book.

"Oh, there you are. The TARDIS tried changing the corridors again, thought you might be hiding."

"I wasn't hiding," said Donna. Silly spaceship, I am trying to do something here. "Are you going to sit?"

The Doctor smiled and curled up happily on the couch next to Donna. He put his head on her lap and she rolled her eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair. He was so predictable sometimes.

"What are you reading?," the Doctor asked after his eyes were finally glazed over.

"It's a biography, actually."

"Whose?"

"Uh, Madame de Pompadour."

The Doctor's eyes shot open. "What?"

"Madame de Pompadour," said Donna, trying to hide her satisfaction at getting a reaction. All the skinny spaceman had to do now was say he had met her. Then she could ask a question and he could answer it and that would be what was called a conversation.

"Oh," he squeaked.

Donna felt the Doctor tense next to her, but he wasn't saying anything. She kept reading on, the book was starting to bore her frankly. What the hell did she care about the woman's eye for Rococo interiors? Did the biographer maybe want to mention her affair with a weird alien who flew around all of time and space in a police box? That seemed as if it might be a tad more interesting than a bunch of ugly furniture!

"Fascinating the French court," said Donna. "Ever been?"

"No," said the Doctor.

Lying. Now he was lying. Fine. Spaceman wanted to play games, so could Donna.

"Really? Well, that might be fun. We should go some time and meet Madame de Pompadour."

"I don't know why, seems dull."

Seems dull. She wanted to smack him then.

"Well, how do you know? You've never been."

"Oh, right, well, I'm just theorizing."

"Why don't you stop theorizing and let's go?"

The Doctor sprung up from the sofa. "No, Donna, you wouldn't like that, too much ceremony, all that ancient clothing-"

"Are you saying I would embarrass you? I can't pull off a corset?"

The Doctor froze. "I never said either of those things and if you would like to go anywhere else where you might be wearing a corset, I'll take you."

Donna slammed the book shut. "Versailles."

"No."

Donna stood up and crossed her arms. "Anywhere else blacked out on my tour of the universe? This is worse than redeeming airline miles!"

"No, just not there."

"And why not?"

He gulped. "No reason."

"No reason? You won't go there but there's no reason in particular why you won't go!"

"No."

Donna growled. "Fine. Fine. I'm going to bed. Good night."

"But we haven't even had supper yet," said the Doctor.

"Eat a banana!," shouted Donna as she stormed back to her room.

The Doctor stood alone in the library with absolutely no idea what had just happened.

Donna had never mentioned being particularly enamored of eighteenth century France, he had only heard her say bad things about France, including a quick mini break to Paris where her handbag had been stolen. Now she wanted to meet Madame de Pompadour? Why? The Doctor couldn't have that, not only might he be crossing his own personal time line, it would soon come out about he and Reinette and he didn't think Donna would like that at all. Now, she was storming off to bed, alone.

He would have to think of something to get back in her good graces and quickly, something much better than eighteenth century France. Something to make up for it. He couldn't go into why, how he had fallen for her, even though he had only known her such a short time. He knew she still doubted him because of Rose, this was no time to throw another woman into the mix. Perhaps Paris?

Oh. Right. Romana. He didn't want to make the same mistake he had with Martha when he took her to New New York, even though he had been completely oblivious to Martha's feelings at the time. If they went to Paris, they would have to go to the Louvre and then the Mona Lisa and he would go off on Romana only becoming aware of it when he felt Donna's hand smacking his face. No, no Paris.

He needed somewhere with a clean slate, somewhere with no memories attached to it, which was hard for him.

Well, he had never been to Athena Five. The resort there was famous throughout the universe for giving women a proper holiday. Spa treatments, massages, shopping... Donna was tired, all she needed was a little time to relax and she would be back to herself and they would be back to their usual routine: save the day, go back to the TARDIS, eat dinner and... do other things. That was the solution to the problem. He would let her rest and in the morning they would go to Athena Five.