As soon as the doors opened, the Doctor unfurled from his position against Donna and bolted out into the Leisure Palace. Donna painfully dragged herself up, swaying for a moment.
"Are you alright? Do you need a hand?"
Dragging her arm away from the Professor, Donna snarled, "I don't need any help from a would-be murder!"
The other passengers slinked past Donna, after the humbled Professor, and she watched them go with barely concealed hatred. She'd have stalked out first, but her legs were proving to be a little stubborn.
The medic came forward and looked at her with concern, suggesting, "We have a wheelchair, Miss."
Slumping her shoulders wearily, Donna nodded and murmured, "Might be for the best."
As she was wheeled out into the Leisure Palace, Donna rested her aching head on the hand of the arm she had propped up on the armrest. Snorting humourlessly, she muttered, "Some holiday this turned out to be."
As they turned the corner, Donna could hear raised voices and lifted her head with some difficulty to see the passengers arguing with a man in a suit. The man in the suit, stood in front of a clearly terrified Doctor, who was flanked by a pair of burly guards. All pain forgotten, Donna leapt from the chair, ignoring the medic's protests and ran towards the fray.
Putting her fingers in her mouth, Donna issued a piercing whistle that cut through the babble and rendered everyone speechless. Stalking towards the group, she said slowly with just a touch of menace, "What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On. Here?"
The passengers parted like the Red Sea, in deference to the clearly irate redhead, and she was soon by the Doctor's side. He immediately took her hand in a death grip and bumped up against her side anxiously.
The man in the suit said smoothly, "Ah, you must be the last passenger. Let me start again, now we're all here. Our company has been informed by the rescue shuttle that there have been four fatalities. You can understand that this is a very serious matter that requires investigation. When we asked your fellow passenger for a statement, he tried to run. Then when we asked the rest of your fellow passengers to remain here and give statements, they… protested."
Leaning into the Doctor a little as the world tilted after a foolhardy attempt at a nod, Donna asked, "And who the hell are you, when you're at home?"
Clearly affronted, the man in the suit puffed himself up importantly and replied indignantly, "My name is Samuel Henry Rummery and I'm the Manager of the Leisure Palace."
"Riiiiight," drawled a clearly unimpressed Donna, "Well, Sam, your problem is this… I'm injured. My friend here is traumatised. The others are cowards and/or idiots. None of us are in the mood to talk to you about what happened out there. But what I will say is this, you need to pack up and get the hell out of dodge, 'cos what's out there is bigger than you and the horse you rode in on."
"H-Horse? I'm afraid I don't understand…" stammered Samuel, bewildered by the woman in front of him.
Moving over to poke the manager in the chest, ignoring the guards as they stepped forward to protect him, Donna said clearly, "I have had a VERY trying day. I was poisoned by your cocktails, got locked in the toilet of the shuttle by a defective door lock, had to break down said door – which was ridiculously sturdy for a bog door – because there was no alarm call in the toilet which must be a violation of some sort of health and safety code, then had to save my best friend in the entire universe from being thrown out of the exit door to certain death by a mob of fear-crazed cretins!"
Pausing for breath, wincing as her ribs protested the action, Donna continued, "Considering these factors, I think the least you can do is allow us a couple of hours in our rooms to rest and recuperate before you start grilling us, don't you?"
Blustering, the manager tried not to look as intimidated as he felt, saying, "Well, yes, that seems reasonable, under the circumstances. Shall we reconvene here at 8 o'clock?"
"Yeah, whatever." With that, Donna put her arm around the shivering Time Lord and started to guide him towards their room, where the TARDIS was parked. "C'mon, sweetheart, let's get you somewhere quiet."
By the time they'd reached their suite, they were leaning on each other heavily. Donna had waved the concerned medic away, with a short thank you. She knew that the Doctor could fix her head and ribs in minutes, once they were in the medbay. What worried her was how she was going to fix what was wrong with him.
The TARDIS sensed her pilot's distress and opened her doors to him and his companion. As they walked into the console room, the door shut decidedly behind them. Donna walked over to the console and flipped a few of the toggles before taking the hand brake off to send them into the Vortex.
"Donna, we have to go back and give them our statements," said the Doctor dully, watching without making a move to stop her.
"And we will. Eventually. Until then, we're going to the medbay so you can sort out my head and ribs. Then we're going to take a long, hot soak in a bath – not together obviously, don't get any ideas there Skinny Boy - and then we're going to get some sleep. I might, if you're good, give you a massage too. But first medbay." She'd taken his arm and steered him towards the medbay, arriving just as she finished speaking.
Feeling numb and detached, the Doctor allowed himself to be guided. He automatically treated his companion for the injuries she'd sustained on the shuttle. On a tour that he'd talked her into going on, he realised sadly. His hands started to shake again as he waved the instrument Donna called the flashy, blinky thing over her ribs a final time. Putting it down, he looked at the screen and saw that she had no further injuries.
Noticing how quiet and withdrawn the Doctor was, Donna nibbled on her lower lip worriedly. Once he'd put the flashy, blinky thing down, he just stood there silently, with his hands trembling by his sides. Assuming that he'd finished, since nothing hurt anymore, aside from her dry throat, Donna slid off the bed and took her friend's hand. Without speaking, she led him to her room. Trailing her other hand along the wall of the TARDIS, she asked her silently to provide some pajamas for him.
Walking along beside Donna, the Doctor sighed as they entered her bedroom. He'd come to view this place as a sanctuary, somewhere to run to when the nightmares were too scary. Going with her, he noted that she was taking him to the bathroom, but there was no emotion attached to the observation. He seemed to have lost the ability to feel anything.
Starting the bath, Donna put in some bubble mix before turning to the Doctor and starting to undress him. At this point, the Doctor came back to himself a little, slapping her hands away and snapping, "I can still undress and bathe myself, Donna!"
Raising an eyebrow, Donna retorted, "Right, well, I'll leave you to it then, shall I? Your pj's are on the towel holder." Then she turned on her heel and went out, shutting the door after her.
Standing for a few minutes staring at the door, he waited for her to come back in. When she didn't, he slowly peeled his clothes off before stepping into the bath. It was just the right temperature for him, although he knew it would be too cool for Donna. How did she know these things? Reaching forward to turn the water off, he lay back and sunk down below the suds. Rising to the surface, he lay with the water comfortingly lapping his chin and closed his eyes.
The TARDIS sang to him soothingly, knowing what he'd been through. She could see the tears and scratches in his mind, where the creature had clawed and scrabbled its way in. Caressing his mind, she tried to heal the pain the only way she knew how.
Donna stood outside, with her back to the door, hearing him splashing around before going quiet. The hum of the TARDIS increased and seemed to make the air around her shimmer slightly. Feeling bone deep weariness crash down on her, Donna heaved herself away from the door and went to her bed. Collecting her pajamas, she headed to a new door that had just opened, revealing a second, identical bathroom. Entering it and shutting the door, she rubbed the wall and murmured, "Thanks, old girl. Let me know if he tries to drown."
After a shower, Donna sat on her bed, towelling her hair dry thoughtfully. She knew her Spaceman wouldn't want to go back and give a statement, but felt it was important for the facts to be known. Donna certainly didn't trust those cowards from the shuttle to tell the truth. Getting up, she threw the towel in the laundry chute, and then went to the closed bathroom door. Knocking lightly, she enquired, "You alright in there, Time Boy? Haven't slipped down the drain have you?"
Starting at the sound of her voice, he smiled a little and called, "No, just finishing up. I'll be out soon." He was dismayed to hear that his voice was rough and slightly tremulous.
Going to her desk, Donna sat down and turned on her laptop. Once it had woken up, she opened a Word document and started typing furiously.
Knowing that Donna was more than likely to burst in on him if she became worried that he was taking too long, the Doctor hauled himself out of tub. Pulling the plug, he towelled off and pulled his now warmed pajamas on. Moving over to the sink, he reached for his toothbrush and toothpaste. It was then that he registered that the TARDIS had moved his bathroom next to Donna's bedroom. Rubbing the wall, he cooed, "Who's a clever girl, then?"
Humming in agreement, the TARDIS sent a puff of warm air over her pilot. Then she decided to do a thorough job of it and blasted his hair until it was dry and sticking up in all directions as usual.
Laughing for what felt like the first time in decades, the Doctor sent a mental word of thanks and started brushing his teeth. As he was doing so, his mind replayed the scene when Donna had braced the manager. Grinning with his mouth full of foam, he felt warmth burn through him at her protectiveness. Her injuries had not been insubstantial and it must have cost her a lot to get out of the wheelchair that she'd been slumped in. He remembered the feelings of loneliness, desolation and anxiety he'd had as all those Humans had pressed around him, shouting and shoving. Shuddering, he spat out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth. Suddenly, he needed to be with Donna.
Hearing the door open, Donna continued to type at high speed. She felt as her friend came to stand at her shoulder, as close as he could get without touching her, and asked, "Feel better?"
Nodding, then realising she wouldn't see him; he cleared his throat and said, "A bit. What are you doing?"
"I am typing up my statement. Once you've had a bit of a kip and maybe something to eat, you can dictate yours to me and then we'll land, I'll hand them over to our good buddy Sam, and we'll be off like a bucket of prawns in the sun," she replied cheerfully, typing all the while.
"Oh." A weight shifted from his shoulders as he realised she was making it possible for him to avoid ever seeing the others again. He bent to kiss her on top of her head. "Thanks."
Donna was very nearly done with her factual account of what had happened to her, but she needed to put a few scathing remarks and recommendations at the bottom. However, she could sense that the Doctor wasn't going to just lie down and go to sleep without her attention. So, hastily typing the last few words, she saved it carefully and then stood up, coaxing, "C'mon then, Time Boy, into bed with you."
Allowing himself to be prodded and shoved, the Doctor collapsed into the lovely warm, soft bed, curling up like a kitten as Donna covered him over. Gazing up at her with huge, brown eyes, he asked, "Aren't you going to sleep too?"
Brushing his cheek with the back of two fingers, she asked gently, "Do you want me to come in with you?"
Bashfully, he nodded and blushed painfully. He wasn't used to having his companions in his bed, or being in theirs, but he and Donna seemed to have reached an understanding. When he was upset, sick or frightened, he was allowed to sleep with her. It was still uncomfortable for him to admit that he needed comforting, but it wasn't so hard when it was Donna. He could never have shown such weakness to any of his former companions. Right now, he was still terrified by what had happened and what almost happened to him that day. He'd never had such a close call with his own mortality – never been faced with a death he wouldn't regenerate after – and it had shaken him to the core.
Climbing onto the other side of the bed, Donna lay on her back and sighed, waiting for him to make the first move if he wanted to do so. She didn't have to wait long, before the Doctor rolled over and snuggled into her, clutching a fistful of her pajama top and burying his face in her neck. Turning to him a little, she gathered him into her arms and held him close. Brushing his hair back off his forehead, she kissed him and laid her cheek against his head, murmuring, "There now, Sunshine, it's going to be fine. I've got you."
A tiny voice came floating up, "I'm sorry I forgot about you today, Donna. I was so interested in the new life form, that I for.. forg …" His voice, which had started out so soft that Donna could barely hear it, petered out altogether. He stayed mute, shoulders shaking with the effort of containing his emotions.
Stroking his hair softly, Donna whispered, "Aw, sweetheart, it's okay."
"I th-thought I w-was going to d-die…" he wailed into her hair, clinging to her. He sounded pathetic to his own ears, over 900 years old and crying like a child. But he couldn't help himself, the reaction was too deeply felt to suppress. The emotions of the day boiled to the surface, emerging as hot tears and fierce sobs. He sobbed brokenly until he thought his respiratory bypass may have to kick in, before slowly calming into the occasional sniffle.
The whole time, Donna just held him close.
"Sorry," he muttered, as he pulled away, wiping his face.
Pulling a clean tissue from the box beside her bed, Donna cleaned his face up for him, lobbed the tissue in the direction of the bin and pulled out a few more for him to blow his nose with.
He honked and then lobbed the tissues straight into the bin. Wearily, he cuddled back into Donna.
"There's no need to be sorry, sweetheart. You've just been through a terrifying and incredibly stressful ordeal. I'd be worried if you didn't break down and have a bit of a cry. Besides, that's what mates are for, isn't it?" Donna smoothed her hand over his hair, pausing to thumb away a stray tear from the side of his nose.
He huffed and gave her a tiny smile. Wrapping her in his lanky arms and legs, he pleaded, "Sing to me?"
So Donna sang, as she lay with her emotionally battered friend draped over her, rubbing his tired, aching back muscles and lulling him into much needed sleep. Dozing off herself, she woke each time he became restless, dragging him away from nightmares and singing him back to a calm sleep.
Waking abruptly after six hours sleep, the Doctor first registered the smell of Donna. Then he realised that he was draped over her and his head was cushioned comfortably on her breast, slowly rising and falling with her breathing. Pretty sure that he wouldn't get slapped for having his head there, he decided nonetheless to move to safer territory. Wriggling around, he shifted so the top part of his face was pressed into the side of her neck. Her scent was stronger here and he was tempted to give her a little lick, just to see if she tasted like she smelt. She was asleep, surely it wouldn't hurt. Cautiously, he flicked his tongue out to swipe lightly along her throat. Interesting, he thought, she tastes even better than she smells.
Donna had woken to find her friend's head on her chest. Snorting to herself about how all males were the same, no matter the species, she let sleeping Time Lords lie. When he squirmed around and nuzzled into her neck, she was just about to ask if he was awake. Then she felt him lick her!
"Euw, did you just lick me, Martian?"
Grinning, he didn't move as he replied cagily, "Maybe."
"For the love of God, why?"
Shrugging, he muttered, "Wanted to.."
Sighing in acceptance of his weird alien ways, she squeezed him briefly and then slapped him lightly on the arm, before asking, "Are you hungry?"
At the thought of food, his stomach rumbled loudly, rendering a verbal response unnecessary.
Chuckling, Donna extracted herself from his embrace and got up, stretching and yawning. Going to her walk-in wardrobe, she called, "Get up and get dressed, you lazy git. I'll meet you in the kitchen."
TBC
