The Doctor had hoped that Donna's brief moment of bravery would recharge her weary emotions. For a short while she seemed her old self. As they walked back to the TARDIS, she was alert and interested in his words, commenting acerbically and questioning intelligently by turns.

By the time they reached the ship, however, the spark had guttered slightly. Still, she was sharper than she'd been in recent days, and he was glad for it. He felt certain that a few minutes among the indentured servants would stoke her zeal to its usual intensity.

"So," he said brightly, scampering up the ramp toward the console, "Gnigngnnger-2. Brilliant pudding, best anywhere, you'll love it."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Think you've had enough, space man. You're bouncing."

"Oi! What's wrong with that? Good exercise, gets the old cardiovascular system pumping—"

She shook her head in fond exasperation. "Makes me tired just watching you."

He tapped energetically at the keys and pulled several levers. "I'll just have a small helping."

She snorted lightly. "Right. Like just the jumbo size."

He looked up at her, welcoming the hint of laughter he'd just heard. Her smile was fading, though, as she pressed a hand over her stomach. "Think I've had enough."

His grin disappeared, too. "It didn't sit well with you?"

"No, it was fine. That git who pushed me down elbowed me or something."

He walked down the ramp. "Let me see?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing." Her hand moved up to brush over a smudge on her shirt. "But I could use a change of clothes and a shower. Can I take a rain check on that pudding?"

"Of course. Gnigngnnger-2's not going anywhere."

"Thanks." She began to walk away but paused to turn back for a moment. "That was just what I needed."

He thought there were hints of serenity in her expression and contentment in her eyes. She flashed him another quick grin then disappeared into the corridor.


Donna kicked off her shoes and tugged down her jeans. After shrugging out of her shirt, she shed her undergarments. The steam beckoned her, and she stepped into the shower. With a deep, audible sigh she ducked under the hot spray. It felt wonderful.

She stood in the marvelous stream for some time before finally picking up a thick flannel and squirting a generous glop of soap onto it. The silky lather glided over her skin. She spent a few moments massaging the back of her neck then rubbed the cloth over her shoulders and chest. As she passed it over her belly, she winced. Oh, right. Some temporarily crazed bloke had bumped into her just as she was about to sprint for the shop. He'd knocked her to the ground, and she'd taken the boy with her unintentionally.

Then there'd been total darkness and that strange vibration all around her. It had seemed to pulse against her skin to the point of discomfort, then it had suddenly ceased as the light returned. Of course, by then the idiot who'd slammed into her was long gone. There'd been only the child beneath her, scared but safe.

She'd kept him from harm, and she felt a small glow of pride at her actions. She stepped back under the spray and watched as the suds slid away from her stomach. Bollocks. That inconsiderate git must've shoved his elbow right into her. There was a deep bruise forming low on her abdomen. She touched it gingerly and was unsurprised to find it quite sore.

Aside from that trifle, though, she was unharmed. She supposed it could have been worse. She shrugged and finished her shower then wrapped herself in a thick robe.

God, she was tired. She'd felt fatigued since they left The Library, but a good night's sleep had eluded her. Images of Ella and Josh kept running through her mind. She still recalled how it felt to be their mother. It was wonderful. The knowledge that she would probably never feel that again had taunted her and haunted her, stealing her slumber and leaving her lethargic and lugubrious.

Donna sank down on her bed and pulled up the duvet. Within a few moments she was sound asleep, dreams of her phantom family abandoned in the abyss of deep slumber.


The Doctor had expected Donna to return to the console room within an hour or so. He spent the time reviewing the events that had led to the roving eclipse. He couldn't help grinning at the knowledge that he'd arrived just in time to witness the relatively rare event. He'd shown it to Donna, too, and he knew that her participation in the child's rescue had left her feeling more herself. All in all, it had been a good experience. And there'd been pudding, too…

After one hour and twenty-six minutes, he began to wonder where his companion was. Maybe she'd decided to make tea or sandwiches. She hadn't had much appetite over the past few days. Perhaps the pudding had jumpstarted that, just as the little boy's need for help had boosted her emotions.

He strolled to the kitchen only to find it empty. That was too bad, really, because he rather fancied a cuppa. His feet moved softly yet purposely through the corridor until he reached Donna's room. Her door was ajar. He tapped at it lightly.

"Donna?" he inquired, keeping his voice low. "You all right?"

A soft snore was her reply. He poked his head into the room to see her curled up in bed, duvet tucked up around her chin. He stepped inside but remained near the doorway. She was breathing deeply, and her expression was tranquil. She was enveloped in heavy, dreamless sleep.

He smiled gratefully. He knew she hadn't had a restful night since they left The Library. He'd seen the dark circles under her eyes and heard her stifled yawns. He'd come close to offering her a sleep aid and was glad that now such pharmacological assistance wouldn't be required.

Perhaps she hadn't started a minor revolution or remedied the inequities of the downtrodden. But she'd saved a small child, and that was enough.

"Sleep well, Donna," he whispered, then the Doctor turned and padded silently from the room.


After ten hours, the Doctor wondered whether his companion had taken his last words a bit too literally. He was growing impatient for her to wake. He fussed about the console then removed a few panels to check some wiring, disconnect and reconnect a handful of circuits, and realign the temporal interface. None of this really needed to be done, but he couldn't very well just laze about idly like some sort of human

He was just resealing the panel when Donna shuffled into the cavernous room. He turned toward her, expecting to see the rosy-cheeked glow that seemed to follow an extended period of sleep for humans. Instead he found a pale complexion and slightly swollen eyes.

"Mornin'," she croaked.

"Afternoon," he corrected, glancing at one of the clocks on the console, "at least by Terran standards. You all right?"

"Yeah. Feel like I could sleep another eight hours, though." She stretched languorously.

"But you did sleep, soundly I mean?"

She nodded. "Like a stone."

"Well, you needed it."

"Suppose I did." Her stomach made a deep gurgling noise, and she pressed a hand over it.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Starving! Think the ship can scrounge up some bangers?"

"Check in the fridge, behind the Venusian chorracorra salsa, top shelf," he suggested.

"Gimme me ten," she replied, already moving toward the hallway.

"Tea?" he called hopefully.

"Nope," she yelled back. "This is definitely more of a coffee morning for me."


To be continued…