Takes place at the end of The Unicorn and the Wasp.
I've read lots of post-Detox stories. They're all marvelous, but I don't think I've encountered this scenario yet. If it has been written, I apologize (and point me to it, so I can enjoy).
Thoroughly Detoxed (Doctor/Donna)
"Onwards."
The Doctor pushed a lever down, and he and Donna listened to the TARDIS' song, wondering where they'll be taken for their next adventure.
Donna stepped back and cleared her throat, shimmering a little to cause the beads on her gown to dance. "I'm going to get into something a little more practical," she said. "I've had enough flappin'."
The Doctor turned to give his friend a final once-over in her period garb. "You do look lovely in that," he said, smiling.
She hunched her shoulders, shyly accepting his praise. "Thanks for giving me the chance to wear it! To think, we met Agatha Christie!" she exclaimed and waved her hands around. "I mean, it's just so amazing!"
Charmed, the Doctor laughed. He leaned against the console and studied her. "Where to next, then, Ms Noble?"
Inhaling, she coughed a little. "Surprise me. I don't care! It's all so... just incredible!"
She bounced away, leaving the Doctor to grin back at his controls. He tapped on the computer screen, his mind buzzing about all the places he could take her. Since she was such a fan of Agatha Christie, maybe a library in the distant future (compared to the 1920s) would be fun.
"Donna!" he shouted. "I think I have an idea!"
There was no answer. Figuring she was too busy changing, the Doctor walked around and tinkered with a few gages. He ran his hand through his hair, wondering if she'd prefer a tiny little respite before the embarked on anything too extravagant again.
"Before we do that, how about we stop over to Boton Prime for a really good cup of tea? You'll love it!"
Still no answer, and the Doctor looked up. Her room wasn't that far. Shrugging, he sat on the jumper seat and exhaled loudly, unwinding from the day's adventure. He closed his eyes, relishing in a moment of solitude.
A light blip popped up on the screen.
Toxicity levels rising. Knitting his eyebrows together, the Doctor leaned forward and grabbed his sonic screwdriver. Scanning himself, he frowned. "All the cyanide is out of my system," he muttered. So why was the TARDIS detecting the poison at all, let alone at elevated levels.
The Doctor's head shot up.
"Donna!" he shouted, leaping out of the chair and sprinting toward her room. The door was shut, and he hated to risk invading her privacy. He knocked. "Donna! Donna, are you all right?"
The lack of answer nearly brought both of his hearts to a stand-still. Yet he slowly opened the door and cautiously poked his head through. "Donna?" he called. "Donna, please answer me!"
"Doctor..."
That was not Donna's voice. It was thin and raspy. Within seconds, the Doctor charged into the room, looking everywhere at once. A door that must have led to the bathroom was ajar, its light creating a slice through the darkened bedroom. Rushing toward it, the Doctor opened the door with strained force.
Crouched down on her hands and knees, Donna was moving with effort to catch her breath. She had managed to change out of her gown; it was pooled next to her. Dressed in a loose robe, her hair remained elaborately styled. Its fanciness seemed to be mocking her as she heaved violently.
She looked up at him, and the Doctor's blood ran cold. Her skin was ghostly white, accented only by the unnaturally blueish tint to her lips. Instantly, he was at her side, placing a gentle hand on her back.
"Can't... breathe..." she gasped.
He scanned her, the sonic's readouts confirming his suspicion. "Cyanide. You have a trace amount in your system," he said.
"How?"
He shook his head, muttering detox, and pushed away the guilt of how it got into her system. He needed to help her first.
"Can you stand?" he asked.
She nodded. With his help, she stumbled upward, moaning as a wave of dizziness overtook her. He clutched close. "I've got you," he whispered.
But only after a couple of wobbly steps, Donna gasped and nearly fell over. The Doctor quickly compensated and shifted. She groaned lightly as he swung her into her arms.
Her eyes widened with indignation. He shook his head to negate her complaints. "We need to get you to the infirmary, and it's quicker this way," he explained.
She nodded and grasped at his suit lapels. Her head didn't so much rest on his shoulder as it fell sideways. Feeling more panicked, he practically ran the rest of the way.
Gently placing her on the infirmary bed, he turned to see a pill waiting for him. Closing his eyes in silent gratitude to his TARDIS, he practically shoved it in Donna's clamped mouth.
"This will hold the symptoms back until I can get a proper antidote," he explained, even though he doubted she could hear him.
Immediately, her eyes shot open and she gasped in breath like she'd been drowning. The Doctor placed a hand on her shoulder, easing her to a sitting position. He patiently waited for her to ingest the air she desperately needed before carefully guiding her back down again.
"Easy now," he whispered. Looking up at the readouts that had been taken the moment he'd placed her on the bed, he nodded hopefully. "It is cyanide. Just a little. The TARDIS picked it up when you came in, and it's been trying to remove it from your system. Unfortunately, you had a negative reaction to its extraction methods."
She looked at him for a moment and then at the ceiling. "Sorry," she muttered, and the Doctor wasn't sure if she was apologizing to him or to his ship.
He traced his fingers over her forehead. "Don't worry," he assured her. "The poison has been tempered with salt and can be easily removed with a little bit of hydroxocobalamin." He smiled at her. "I can do that!"
He started to move, but she clutched at his hand. "How did it get in me?" she whispered.
A slow blush warmed his cheeks. "Do you remember how you shocked me during my detox?"
A shade of pink that matched his brought the color back to her white skin. "Oh yeah."
The Doctor shuddered as the guilt returned. "I am so sorry," he whispered.
She shook her head. "Will you kiss me?"
He laughed. "If you want me to," he said.
"None of that," she muttered, the color seeping fast from her cheeks again. She closed her eyes. The Doctor placed her hand on her chest and draped a blanket over her. Turning quickly, he gathered the necessary chemicals to cure her. He kept talking, not sure if he was assuring her or himself of the simplicity of the treatment.
Raising the bed so she was more upright, he guided the liquid into her mouth, making sure she'd consumed it all. Eager to remain in contact, he sat next to her, keeping her cradled in his arms.
Nervously, he looked up at the screen. He slowly exhaled in relief as he watched the toxicity levels drop. Beside him, her breathing became less labored. He hugged her closer.
"That's my Donna," he muttered, massaging her arms. They remained still; the Doctor hoped she wasn't silently suffering any effects. But she was still and breathing easily in his arms.
The monitors indicated that she was starting to rouse. The Doctor regretted the loss of proximity, but he knew she'd be more comfortable if she was lying down. Gently resting her head against the pillow, he removed the small headpiece so it wouldn't be a discomfort as she slept.
Studying her to see if there was anything else he could do for her, he sighed and pushed some of her hair away from her face. Thinking of her suggestion of kissing her, he smiled and leaned over, pressing his lips to her forehead. He stayed close, hovering over her and wishing he could wipe away the guilt running through him.
The Doctor pulled a chair next to the bed. His eyes never leaving her, he took Donna's hand and massaged it gently, giving her whatever assurance he could.
The console only registered about five minutes, but it felt like an eternity before Donna slowly moved. She whimpered a little as consciousness returned. The Doctor held her hand tighter, softly calling out to her.
Sighing, she turned to the sound of his voice. When her eyes opened, the Doctor did not keep his relief at bay. He grinned widely. "Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty!"
Groaning a little, Donna offered a tired smile. "You're a hell of a Prince Charming." Her voice was a little cracked, but it was musical to him.
He looked at her with mock indignation. "I am quite charming," he insisted.
"Yes, you are when you want to be," she said, holding his gaze. "That's the last time I kiss you."
He sat up straighter, inwardly thrilled she was well enough to tease him. "I promise the next time will be much nicer."
Her eyes narrowed. "Next time?"
He looked down, bashful. "Well, you never know..."
Donna breathed in and out again. "You never know."
The Doctor sat back and sighed, the adrenalin sifting from his body.
Donna inhaled shakily. "Well, that was fun," she muttered.
Growing serious, he leaned closer. "Are you all right? All the readings say you are, but I just want to make sure, and there could be some set backs, and you should let me know if you're - "
She pulled her hand free to place it atop his rambling lips. "I'm fine, Spaceman," she said. "Thanks to you."
His shoulders slumped. "You mean no thanks to me," he said.
Her eyes widened. "Let's just say we're even now," she suggested.
Claiming her hand again, he grinned. "You are brilliant, you know," he said.
Her laughter was light, but strong, assuring them both that all would be well.
Oh, and I have no idea if Donna's symptoms or the cure the Doctor gave her would really work. But she cured him with anchovies and a whopper of a kiss (that he fully appreciated, I might add). So, it's all good.