Her head was pounding, and her stomach felt like it was twisted into a hundred knots. These sensations were so strong that it took Donna a few moments to realize that her limbs ached, too, and her throat felt dry and scratchy. She was disoriented. She wondered if she'd had too much to drink. But she hadn't been drinking, had she?

She took a deep breath, trying to remember what the hell could have left her feeling like she'd been run over by a lorry. She'd been in the TARDIS, with the Doctor, and then they'd landed… somewhere hot, somewhere really, really hot, and she'd been out gathering those weird, deceptively heavy little rocks. She couldn't recall anything else, though.

She supposed it was time to open her eyes. She'd avoided it until now because she knew the light would only make her head hurt more fiercely. Still, she conceded that it had to be done eventually. She blew out a breath. No time like the present.

Donna opened her eyes, blinking and squinting immediately as the increased illumination resulted in a concomitant increase in pain.

"God," she groaned, taking a few seconds to process her surroundings.

She was lying down, on her left side, and the ground beneath her was hard. She saw a rucksack, and beyond that a tent pole reaching up farther than her weary eyes wished to move. She remembered, then, that the Doctor had pitched a tent. She was in said tent, reclining on the sleeping bag and feeling like complete and utter hell.

"Donna?" The Doctor's voice was cautious, and there was a strange tone to it that she had never heard before.

His white Chucks appeared in her line of vision first, then his knees as he got down on the floor beside her.

"Yeah," she replied, "that's me—least I think it is. Feel a bit shit."

He nodded, and she thought his expression bore significant traces of regret. "Sorry," he said.

Her hand lay near her shoulder, and she noted idly that she'd chipped a nail. Her gaze moved up to her wrist then toward her arm. Something was different; something had changed since she'd been out gathering those rocks. Suddenly she realized that her arm was bare. She'd had on a long-sleeved shirt before.

Her eyes shot down then back up her body. "Oi!" she yelped. "I'm naked!"

The Doctor reached over her and pulled something over her shoulders. She realized vaguely that it was his coat. She also realized that her last statement hadn't been entirely accurate. She still wore her bra and panties, and there was something bunched up under her arms and around her thighs. Still, rather great expanses of bare skin were exposed to the Time Lord's appraising eye.

"Stop looking at me!" she commanded weakly. "And tell me why I'm halfway to starkers."

"Hyperthermia," he replied. Then he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and added, "Heat stroke. I had to cool you down as quickly as possible." He gestured toward her legs and torso. "Needed to remove your clothing to do that. Sorry."

Well, that explained a lot, actually. Now Donna had a faint memory of feeling overheated and dizzy, of stumbling back toward the camp. "That's why I feel so crappy?"

He nodded. "You got dehydrated, too. Still are. So you need to have some water." He picked up a bottle that sat nearby then slid his arm around her shoulders, easing her around so that she could sit with her head against his chest.

With mild alarm, she realized that she didn't possess the strength to sit up alone. She felt as weak as a newborn kitten so didn't offer any resistance when the Doctor held the bottle to her lips.

"Just have a few sips for now," he told her. "We'll take it slowly."

She drank, feeling strangely thirsty yet slightly queasy at the same time. When he eased the bottle away, she did not complain. She'd really had enough.

The wadded garments had fallen away from her when he'd shifted her up, and he removed them. She tried feebly to pull his coat around herself more tightly, but he stilled her hand.

"Your temperature is still close to 102," he told her. "You need to continue cooling down, and wrapping up in my coat isn't going to help."

"But I'm almost naked!" she protested weakly.

He uncrumpled one of the garments—she realized dimly that it was his shirt—and spread the damp item over her to provide cover to her torso. "How's that?" he asked. She sensed nothing but concern in his expression and tone.

"Better," she acknowledged. Her head still rested against his chest. She leaned back a bit more, seeking his naturally cooler skin against hers. She was remained quite warm, and that wasn't exactly helping her raging headache.

He seemed to know how she was feeling. "Head hurts?" he asked.

"Yeah."

His hands moved up to rest against her temples. They felt wonderfully cool, and that alone provided her with some small comfort. And when he began massaging her brow with gentle fingertips, she nearly cried with relief. The pain diminished instantly, receding to a dull thud then fading until all she felt was a sort of thickness inside her skull. It didn't hurt; it was just a bit odd.

"Mmm," she murmured, not even aware that she'd made a noise.

"Better?"

"Oh yeah."

He continued his ministrations for another minute, then his hands spread over her forehead and cheek. "Hmm, temperature's down a bit more. I wonder…"

"What?" she asked, attending only partially to his musings.

"My body temperature's lower than yours, and I can adjust it a little more to make it even cooler." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in closer so that her back pressed against his chest.

Within a minute she felt the difference as his skin seemed to drop several degrees. "Neat trick," she said, sighing as she cooled down even more.

"Voluntary control of the hypothalamus," he told her, clearly thinking she'd be interested.

She wasn't, really, but she acknowledged him. "Huh. Cool." Then she giggled, because the joke was suddenly incredibly funny.

"Donna?" he questioned, his face moving closer to hers. His cheek was nearly pressing against hers.

"Cool. Get it? You're cool!" She was laughing harder now, and she couldn't stop. Even when it became difficult to draw a solid breath, the peals burst forth unbidden.

"Calm down, Donna," the Doctor was saying, and his hand was rubbing at her shoulder then moving down to press over her chest. "Sshh, just try to breathe, small breaths, just one at a time."

She was choking, gasping for air now. This was so, so not funny.

His hand lowered, and she felt him press hard at the top of her ribcage: once, twice, three times. It hurt, and she wanted to push his hand away. But she realized whatever he was doing was actually helping; she could take a small, shallow breath now.

"That's it," he complimented, his voice soft against her ear. "And again. Good girl."

Donna's breathing steadied, and she collapsed against the Doctor again. "God. What was that?"

"Bit of hysteria," he replied.

"Hysteria? Oh no, I don't do hysteria!" she protested. Her instinct was to pull away, but he held her gently and prevented her from moving. His hand returned to move up and down over her shoulder and massage lightly at the base of her neck.

"After-effects from the hyperthermia," he informed her. "Not your fault."

"It came out of my mouth," she reminded him.

He didn't appear to hear her. He continued, "Not your fault at all. I should've realized the effect this heat would have on you. You're only human, after all. Which isn't in the least to say anything against humans. You're one of my favorite species. But you can't regulate your body temperatures terribly well—few species can, really—and I should've been more aware, kept an eye on you—"

"You're gettin' an eyeful now," she interjected, adjusting the shirt to provide better cover.

He paused and lowered his head so that his cheek touched hers. In a very low, incredibly sincere, slightly broken voice, he said, "I'm sorry, Donna."

When she felt tears prickling in her eyes, she decided she wasn't quite over the hysteria yet. She reached up to rest her hand against his other cheek. "It's all right. You didn't mean it."

"No, but that's no excuse."

"'Course it is." She blinked at the dampness against her lashes. Neither spoke for some time, then finally she said, "I think I'm ready for some more water now."

He eased away from her, taking a moment to check her temperature again. "99.9," he reported with a satisfied and clearly relieved nod. "Just about back where you should be."

He handed her the water; she felt strong enough to hold the bottle now. She took several sips then passed the bottle back to him. The shirt was nearly dry, so she slipped into it, not bothering to do up the buttons. It wasn't like he'd see anything new now.

"Is it all right if I wait until tomorrow to get the rest of the pebbles?" she asked.

"What?" He appeared surprised by her question. "No. I'll take care of it. You just rest, then tomorrow morning we'll head back to the TARDIS."

"But you said you needed my help—"

"I did, and you gave it, and then some. Do you feel like you can eat a few bites of a protein bar?"

"Yeah, I do."

He rummaged in the rucksack then gave her the bar. As she began to unwrap it, he spoke again.

"Promise me something," he said.

She looked up to find a somber expression upon his face. "Sure. What?"

"Don't let me be an idiot again."

She laughed, this time a gentle burbling that was easily controlled. "That's a tall order!"

He smiled—the first smile she'd seen since she'd awakened—and said, "Suppose you're right. But remind me when I don't stop to remember that you're human."

"Only human. Right. I get it."

He shook his head. "No, Donna, I don't think you do. You're human, of course, and wonderfully so. It gives you qualities that I can never have. But it makes you just a bit fragile in some situations, too, and I want you to make sure I don't forget that."

"Because you want to remember how superior you are to us mere mortals?"

"Not at all." He gave her hand a brief squeeze. "It's because I don't want to lose you. You make me better, Donna Noble, and that's not easy to do."

She grinned and gestured toward the rumpled, soggy clothes. "You make me better, too."

He shook his head, a grin twitching at his lips. "What am I going to do with you?"

She took a bite of the protein bar. "Wouldn't say no to some more of that neck massaging action."

He scooted back into position behind her and began rubbing at her sore muscles. She leaned against him once again, relaxed though tired. After a short while her eyes drifted closed, and she slipped into a doze.

Still, she was aware of the tender kiss he placed on her temple. Donna smiled sleepily. He wasn't so very different from a human after all.

The End