A/N : Ah! New chapter! An end to the cliffhanger! Maybe . . . Maybe not . . . Damn! I'm still using WordPad cause I cba to use Word. It spazzes on me. Cookies for the people who spot my spelling mistakes.

Disclaimer : I don't own Doctor Who, but even if I did, Donna would be coming back. D (No Martha till mid series!! -grins, then ducks stones and rotten tomatoes-)

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"TARDIS?" she whispered.

A door creaked open to her right, inviting her in. She slowly stood up, wary of her past experience. A near empty room hummed with energy as a large television mouted on the farthest wall started humming. A few other furnishings stood in the room, including a bean bag, a coffee table (currently witha large cup of hot chocolate on) and a blanket. She made her way into the room, sat on the bean bag, and pulled the blanket over her bare knees as the TARDIS began to talk, providing pictures on the screen.

The creatures that live in that building are ones my Doctor knows not of. They were created at the beginings of this universe, by a power stronger than that of the Time Lords, to watch over Earth and keep peace, but they got greedy for more of the power they possessed. They wished for full control of all humans, to do as they pleased. The Creator, as she was known, was not pleased, and trapped them in stones of the Earth, never to be released from the prison without a consenting body. Those times called for singing from the soul to be the only form of consent. Clearly, these stones were dug up from their home and made into the building you know as the Millenium Centre. If you sing for them, they will remove and destroy your soul in the process of using it as a gateway, and be freed from their prison. This is the reason I ask you not to leave without my Doctor with you. He has protection beyond what anyone who is alive could understand. I must go, and so must you, as he seeks you. Hurry.

Trying to process what the TARDIS had just told her so very calmly as she made her way back to her room. Gateway? Creator? She was so busy thinking, she didn't notice the Doctor walking towards her.

"You not dressed? Thought you'd be up for some more shopping! Come on, I'll give you half an hour." She did a double take as she put her hand to her head. Too many thoughts running through her head, and the prospect of leaving again, and facing those creatures again. But she'd face it with an open mind. She opened the door to her room, closing it behind her with a snap.

Leave me alone.

Three words, determined to reach their subject, with the utmost amount of power and strength they could carry.

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What does she mean? She can't seriously . . .

I told you this plan would fail. She has been warned . . .

We must carry on, she may trust us in the end . . .

She is strong, but is she too much so . . .

Should anyone have been in the roof of the Millenium Staduim, they would have mentally heard the murmurings of a worried delegation. Many different beings voicing their opinions at once until a self-appointed leader called for silence.

We cannot risk letting her escape. She leaves this evening, after sunset. We must do all that is possible to make her trust us, then if that fails, we can resort to other means. Our growing strength over these years may just be enough to let us make our escape, and finally, we shall have the freedom we deserve, then, onto ultimate power!

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Throwing herself into the day, she became determined to prove she wasn't about to let some weird beings get the better of her. She'd seen loads of things in the whole 2 3/4 years she'd been on board. Started with some half-crazed human half-Weevil hybrid trying to take over the world (as always) and ended up getting thrown off a building and nearly dying. Luckily, if not clichéd, the Doctor came past, generally saving her life, which was lucky in more than one way, for both of them. Point blank refusing to leave him alone after that, she'd ended up on board after stowing away. Her latest adventures, involving a gender confused mental patient and his wonderful "friends" (actually glowing orbs with evil pixie-type thingys in, as the Doctor has so carefully explained).

"Choose a number between 1 and 6!" she called out through her open bedroom door.

"42! No, wait. 3!"

"Sod it, I'll go with the banana top. Never mind!"

Eventually appearing in a pair of black worn skinny jeans, bright yellow hi-top Converse, a yellow top with a banana printed on, and a couple of pairs of black beads hanging round her neck, she decided that it was good outfit for running, and most probably scaring little kids, but at least she wasn't paying for the therapy.

"Hey, where'd you get that banana top, I thought that was mi . . ." The Doctor trailed off, with a look of surprise still plastered on his face.

"I found it in the wardrobe, and I don't think it was yours. Unless you really do smell of bananas." She pulled a black rucksack on her back, and, with a grin, pulled open the doors, grip tighting on her bag, and grin disappearing fast. A gentle push behind her pulled her back into reality.

"Can we please not go shopping?"