Black eyes, black, black, black…

Donna Noble backed away in terror. "No!" she screamed. "No, stay away from me!" The eyes were cold, unfamiliar, and unrelenting. "Stay back!" As the man stepped closer and his hands rose from his sides, extending towards her, she shrieked again. "No! Doctor, save me!"

"I am the Doctor," the man answered, a sneer crossing his familiar lips. "Come on, Donna; show me a friendly face."

Act 6 ~ Climax

"Donna! Donna?" The Doctor shook her shoulders worriedly before returning his gaze to a sneering Patrick Lourdes.

"Oh, it appears she's a bit afraid of you, Doctor," the man said, taking pleasure in the Doctor's rage. "She must be waking up a little; her surroundings and her memory are mashing up within her mind."

"Make her better," the Doctor shouted, curling his hands into fists. "Make her better, or there will be nowhere in the universe you can hide from me."

"Superhuman fury…fascinating, I simply must take a look at your brain," Patrick said simply. "Later, perhaps…I've got a business meeting in an hour; the New Earth senate is very interested in Bliss. Well, I suppose a shot of Sleep will subdue you until I return."

From his pocket he pulled a small device, the contents of which the Doctor knew was not something he wanted in his body. As Patrick came closer, the Doctor swallowed nervously. He stood rigidly, taking a single step backwards before the device broke his skin. He could not help a cry of pain, and he toppled forwards as Patrick bolted from the room, locking the door behind him.

The Doctor shook, pain pulsing through his veins, before remembering himself for a moment, all he needed. He slowed his breath until he could feel himself taking control once again, and shook his hands furiously. Luckily this poison wasn't as difficult to relieve as cyanide; he concentrated on guiding it from his body and coughed as some of it rose in his throat. It collected within his mouth and finally he spat it out onto the floor; it wasn't much, but it was enough. He heaved his breaths silently, closing his eyes and collapsing onto the floor, before leaping up and running to Donna's side.

She cringed when she saw him, though her eyes were glassed over, as though she couldn't really see him, but was imagining he was there. He couldn't help his hand from falling to the side of her face, fingers filled with more terror than Donna could ever feel caressing her cold, pale cheek gently. Her chest rose and fell with anxious breaths as they touched, but her lips didn't utter a single cry—too scared, perhaps?

That Donna was afraid alone made the Doctor angry. In any other circumstance, he'd want to take apart whatever was scaring her and leave it to die in a violent, newborn sun. Anything that could scare Donna was a force to reckon with, and anything that would try while he was around mad. But that it was him making her so afraid…he would never try to make her fear him, never try to hurt her—he was too afraid for her to even imagine it. But was she really afraid of him? Of course she was; he would be afraid of himself in her shoes.

He kept his hand to her clammy skin, unable to break that connection; he was afraid if he let her get away, he would lose her to the Fear. He'd rather die than see her leave.

For hours this bond was unbroken; he stood, exhausted but resolute, and she lay there, her breaths slowing by minute degrees only the Time Lord would notice. Occasionally a small, weak cry would escape her lips, but he swallowed and spun a strand of red hair between his thumb and forefinger.

This infinitely small balance…

Finally, as if it was the blessing of a divinity, the Doctor watched Donna's eyelids flutter and close, as though she was slipping into a real, dreamless sleep. He exhaled a breath he must've been holding the entire time, and moved his hand to brush the hair away from her forehead. He bent over the gurney slowly, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Now she could sleep.