"Good morning, Timeboy," sang a voice from somewhere to the Doctor's right. The sunlight filtered slowly through his closed eyelids, and he groaned. He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and blinking myopically.
Donna stood beside the bed, holding two steaming cups of tea. She proffered one to him, which he gratefully accepted.
"Did I… I slept all night?"
"Yep. Seemed like you needed it, so I didn't bother you."
"You just woke me up, Donna."
"Did I, now?" Donna sat beside the Doctor, her eyes warm and caring despite the sarcasm in her voice. The Doctor loved that about her. She had a big heart, if you bothered to look through all those layers to get to it. "How are you feeling, Doctor?"
The Doctor grimaced. "I'm… I'm all right."
Donna turned to face him, fire in her gaze. "If you follow that up with 'I'm always all right,' so help me, I will-"
"Okay, okay," The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm… well, I'm a bit awful, if you have to know the truth."
Donna nodded sadly, and sipped at her tea. "That's what I thought. I am glad you slept, though. You looked as though you were about to keel over any second when we got back here last night." The Doctor made another face.
"Thank you, for that…" he began quietly. "And for saving me from Mary." He gave a small grin.
"Mary? Who's… oh, that awful woman last night? Ha! I was about ready to shove my fist down her throat, I was… making such awful assumptions about you." She shook her head, laughter in her eyes.
The Doctor's smile slowly faded. "Donna…"
"Hm?"
"You do know… the… my ship…" he trailed off, unable to say her name.
Donna looked at him with concern, and took his free hand in hers. "I know, Doctor. She… spoke to me. Right before she… well, anyway, she sort of… projected all these memories back into my head. I'm not… you, anymore, but I am her again. The old me."
The Doctor swallowed and nodded. He gave her the tiniest of smiles. "I am so glad to have you back, Donna."
She smiled softly and kissed his forehead. "Me too, Spaceman."
They finished their tea in amicable silence, the morning light streaming through the little window onto the rumpled bed behind them. The sounds of the city waking drifted up to them. The Doctor took a long, final draught of his tea, and set the cup on the bedside table. He looked at his companion.
"Donna, I… I just wanted to thank you. For all this." He gestured vaguely in the general direction of the rest of the house.
"Of course," she replied good-naturedly. "It's what friends do. And honestly, you're practically family by now. Mum hates you enough," she joked, "and Gramps loves you. You should probably have your own room from now on, though. Not that this hasn't been pleasant, but I'd like my bed back tonight," she winked.
"My own room…" He shook his head. "Donna, what I was going to say was that I really should be going. You've been so kind, letting me stay here, but I should really be off-"
"Bollocks," Donna said decisively. "You're not going anywhere, buster. Where would you go, anyway?"
The Doctor's mouth opened and closed a few times as he contemplated this.
"We have a guest room right by mine. It's yours now. You're staying, and that's final." Donna looked smugly triumphant.
The Doctor fell silent. She was right. He really had nowhere else to go. Now that the TARDIS was gone… what else could he do? Go to Torchwood? Without his ship, he was nothing more to them than a live tissue sample. He dismissed the thought in a heartbeat. If he left, he would be homeless. Really, truly, completely homeless; more than he had ever been in his entire existence. He missed Gallifrey, suddenly and more painfully than ever before. His eyes welled up with tears. With the TARDIS, he could at least pretend he had some sense of normality, of stability. Now, though… now she was gone, and here he was, alone and afraid, on a strange planet that he would never leave again. He began to cry quietly, respectfully, so that Donna wouldn't be bothered, but no, there she was, reaching out to him, to hold him. She seemed to know without either of them speaking exactly what he needed.
She cradled him close to her, petting his hair and shushing him. She kissed the top of his head gently. She loved him fiercely, like a mother loves her child. She hoped the Doctor would absorb some of that love, would take it into his hearts and let it heal him.
After a minute or two – the torrential outbursts of last night were a thing of the past for the Doctor – he sniffed and sat up. He wiped his nose on the striped sleeve of Wilf's pajamas, and muttered what passed as an apology to Donna. She ruffled his hair affectionately.
"Why don't we get up and get ready." She pulled him to a standing position, and stifled a laugh at his ridiculous attire. Wilf's pants came up to his knees. The Doctor shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"Get dressed. Properly," Donna added. "We're going shopping."
The Doctor trundled along behind Donna, buried under five or six bags of the new clothes she had purchased for him. Truth to tell, she was having much more fun than he was at the moment, but the shopping was distracting, and he did feel much better than he had this morning.
They had gone into the city, both of them anxious to stay far away from Devonshire Square and the dead TARDIS. However, this did mean that the Doctor was in rather dire need of clothes, and Donna found it too good an opportunity to pass up.
"There, now… pyjamas, socks, shirts, trousers… have we missed anything?" Donna asked, looking back at her alien as he bumbled along behind her.
"Um… I don't think so," the Doctor mumbled, anxious to set down his parcels. If it was up to him, he would have only one or two outfits, but Donna had made such a fuss over him that he had given up on arguing this point hours ago.
"Oh, I just know we've forgotten something…" She kept moving steadily onward down the street.
"I'm quite sure that this will be enough for now," the Doctor said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone.
Donna stopped dead in her tracks in front of the Doctor, who nearly bowled her over. "That's it!" She grinned at the storefront in front of her. "Underpants."
"…What?"
"We've been shopping for hours and haven't got you a single pair of underpants." She paused, looking at him. "You do… wear pants, don't you, Doctor?"
From behind his pile of parcels, the Doctor blushed furiously. He mumbled something incoherent.
"What was that?"
"I said, the TARDIS usually…" He swallowed. "Well, it wasn't anything I ever had to worry about until now."
Donna nodded. "Well, let's get you all sorted out." She walked around behind him and pushed him into the department store, past the semi-nude shop window dummies, and into the men's section. He set the parcels from the other shops onto the floor, and stood up slowly. This was one adventure he had never even considered having, and he had no idea where even to begin. Fortunately, Donna took charge for him.
"Right," she said clinically. "Boxers or briefs?"
The Doctor's mouth opened and closed a few times. He went a darker shade of red. "I… I don't…"
"Oh, come on. It's a simple question."
"Donna, I-"
"No need to get embarrassed, Spaceman."
"Donna-"
"Doctor."
He sighed, and looked around, making sure no one was within earshot, then looked back at Donna. "I don't know," he whispered.
She raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?"
He shook his head apologetically. "Are… are boxers the long ones?"
"My god, you really don't know, do you?"
Hesitantly, he shook his head again.
Donna stared for a moment, then let out a hooting laugh. "Oh. My. God," she shrieked. "Nine hundred odd years old and doesn't know about underpants! Ask him to take apart a spaceship, sure. Teleportation? No problem. But boxers or briefs? Not the faintest!" She hooted with laughter.
The Doctor toed the ground delicately. "Sorry," he muttered.
Donna wiped a few stray tears from her eyes. "Come on, Spaceman. Let's get you sorted out." She took his hand and led him to the men's dressing room, grabbing a good selection of pants for him to try on the way. "Now, go in there, take off what you have, and try some of these."
He took the various undergarments from her gingerly, made a face, and walked into the dressing room.
Donna sat patiently outside for a few minutes, listening to the canned music through the stores speakers that almost, but not quite, covered up the uncomfortable rustle of cloth as the Time Lord shuffled out of his trousers. She grinned to herself. Absolutely no clue about pants, of all things…
"Um… Donna?"
"Yes, Doctor?"
"How do I know if…"
"If what?"
"If… well, if they fit."
Donna quickly stifled another laugh with her hand. "Which ones have you got on?"
"The, erm, yellow ones."
"Come out and show me."
There was a pause.
"Come out?" he squeaked from behind the door.
"Well, yeah. How do you expect me to give you quality advice on clothes I can't even see?"
He was silent again for another moment.
"No need to be embarrassed," Donna said as calmly as she could.
"I am not embarrassed!"
"I can practically hear you blushing, Doctor."
Another pause.
"Fine." The door clicked, and the Doctor stepped out shyly.
Donna sized him up, inwardly impressed. She had to admit, he was incredibly fit – for someone so skinny, of course. "You know, it's funny. You change bodies completely, and you only seem to get scrawnier."
He looked at the ground, too embarrassed to say anything at all. Donna put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"It's all right, Spaceman," she said softly. She looked at his waist and smiled. "It's a good look for you. Comfy?"
He nodded hesitantly.
"Then let's get a few pairs of those. You can pick out different colors in that style if you like," she said.
Gratefully, he went back into the dressing room and pulled on his trousers. When he emerged fully clothed, Donna pulled him into a gentle hug. Doing things the human way obviously wasn't easy for him. She held him for a moment, not saying anything.
"Careful; don't cut yourself on my sharp, scrawny shoulders," the Doctor smirked into her hair.
Donna smiled. She was happy he was joking again, even if the jokes were terrible. She gave him another quick squeeze and let him go.
"Come on. I think we've had enough shopping for one day," she said. "Let's get our things and head back home."
The Doctor took a breath, then followed her and dutifully picked up the bags he had left on the floor. She had taken the liberty of grabbing the pants, and several more like them, to bring to the register to pay. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least he didn't have to figure that one out on his own.
They walked out of the department store and began walking back in the direction of Chiswick, laden with their new purchases. It was noon, and the sun peeked out at them from behind the clouds, respectfully cheerful.
"You should wear yellow more often," Donna remarked, a few feet ahead of the Doctor. "It suits you. And, by the wayside," she grinned mischievously, "those are the briefs."
