The golden light flashed around Donna. It was hard to tell where it came from, exactly, but it seemed to be emanating from her body. It fell from her eyes and mouth, and seeped out of her pores, illuminating her in a gold glow. Huon particles, she thought, before dismissing the thought as useless drabble. What the hell is a Huon particle, anyway? Get it together, Donna.

The golden waves swirled luxuriously around her body, taking their time. They moved down her arms, falling from her fingertips and pooling at her feet. For some reason, Donna was not afraid. She would be hard pressed to tell you why, but the golden light streaming out of her made her feel safe.

After about a minute, the steady flow slowed to a trickle, then to nothing, as the golden glow at her feet began to pulse steadily. Donna stepped outside of the pool and watched as it began to move. It flowed toward the door, and seeped underneath, seeming to know exactly what it wanted. Donna calmly followed it.

The pool found its way out of her house, and began moving down the Devonshire Mews, on its way toward Devonshire Road. Donna, again without being to explain why, continued to follow it on foot. The pool moved slowly, and she was able to keep up without much effort.

On and on she followed the pool of golden light as it swirled its way toward Chiswick Square. Something, Donna figured, was about to happen. Something important. And she wasn't about to miss it.

The golden pool came to a rest in the middle of Chiswick Square, across the street from the George and Devonshire. It paused, seemingly waiting for something. Then, with a sudden flash, it zoomed upward and out of sight. Donna tilted her head back to watch it go. She waited for a minute or two, head craned back at the evening sky, waiting for the important thing to happen.

Then suddenly and without warning, a blue box – a police box, the kind they had back in her grandfather's day – came careening out of the heavens. Donna dove to the side, and the flying box missed her head by a couple of feet. It landed with a hard crash a few yards from her, making a sound that a police box that small had absolutely no right to make. It sounded as if an aircraft carrier had landed, instead of a small wooden crate – bigger on the inside, she thought, before dismissing the idea. Where were these ridiculous thoughts coming from? Donna turned to look at the box.

It was turned on its side, the doors facing the sunset sky. The wood was splintered in a few places – Donna was amazed that the wood was still intact at all, after such a fall. There were a few specks of the golden light that had flowed from Donna's body surrounding the box, but they were fading quickly. A dying light on top of the box flickered once or twice before going out.

The TARDIS, screamed Donna's subconscious mind. She's hurt!

And Donna Noble remembered.

Donna awoke lying on the sidewalk in Chiswick Square. Her head hurt like a menace, but she remembered everything. The Doctor had abandoned her, here on Earth, with her mother and grandfather. She supposed he had been justified - being alive was much better than the alternative, even without all the memories – but her fists still clenched in anger. How dare he? That ridiculous, egotistic alien, thinking he had the right to decide what was best for her! What a fucking liberty, she thought to herself.

She decided to walk… well, climb right into that box, and give that man a piece of her mind. She rattled the doors; they didn't budge. She resorted to pounding on the already battered wood, screaming the Doctor's name. She kicked the box too, for good measure.

"Come out, you old pile of a heap! You had better bloody well explain yourself, right this minute, or I'll… I'll…" Her knocking slowly came to a stop as she looked around the street. She probably looked a complete fool right now. Sure enough, a mother was standing across the street from her, holding her child close as they stared, wide-eyed and ready to bolt. Mother and child slowly backed away, and ran around a corner.

Donna sighed, gave the TARDIS a pat in apology, and turned to face the empty square. Only… it wasn't empty. A man and woman were sitting at a picnic table in front of the George and Devonshire, talking. Donna squinted. It couldn't be him… was it? She took a few steps toward the pair. He seemed a bit too tall… and skinny. His hair was all wrong. And yet…

Donna took another step or two, until they were within hearing distance.

"-the Doctor," the man was saying, quietly. He was obviously quite upset about something. "-alien. From… 'nother planet. Can't…"

Donna stopped in her tracks. It couldn't be. He couldn't be…

But he was.

And he was crying…

"Doctor?!" Donna ran to his side.

The woman he had been talking to looked up at her. "Does this one belong to you, dear?"

Donna didn't like the look of this woman. She hoped that the Doctor hadn't been travelling around with her. She seemed a bit too… plain. Donna frowned.

"He's my friend, if that's what you're asking." She caught a look into the Doctor's eyes. Oh, yes. It was definitely him.

"Are you… Tadrisse?" The woman said the name with a trifle of doubt, as if she knew she was saying it wrong, but she was too put off by the actual word to pronounce it correctly.

"Tadrisse?" Donna echoed.

"Yeah, he keeps going on about how he's lost this Tadrisse."

Donna's ears perked up. The word sounded familiar, somehow. She started mumbling to herself, trying to work it out. "Tadrisse, Tad-reece, Tad-ris… Tar…" She trailed off. She couldn't be referring to the TARDIS. Could she? This strange woman, and the blue box… which had crashed from the sky… and was obviously hurt…

The gears in Donna's head turned as she worked it out. The Doctor was sobbing his hearts out in front of her, mumbling about losing the TARDIS… that could only mean one thing.

"Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Doctor, the TARDIS… is she…?" Donna looked back, and saw the faded blue police box across the street, turned on its back, lights out, wood sticking out at all angles. Her breath hitched in her throat.

The Doctor looked up. "Donna…" he whispered through his tears. "Donna Noble…"

She looked down at the broken man. "Oh, Doctor. Oh, love, come here…" She couldn't be mad at him for leaving anymore. Not like this, crying like a lost little boy. Donna's anger dissipated, replaced only with pity. She gathered him into her arms, and pulled him off the bench so they were standing in a proper hug. She let him bury his face – his new face – in her shoulder as he cried.

Donna turned to face the strange woman.

"My name's Donna. I'm… a friend of his."

The woman brightened. "I've been watching out for him. Sweet boy. He's been worried sick about this Tadrisse person… is she his mother?" The Doctor tensed up against Donna at the words. She gently began working the fingers of her right hand through his hair. "I do hope she comes back for him soon," the woman continued. "Such… special people don't deserve to be left alone…" The woman looked at Donna quite meaningfully at the word 'special.'

Donna glared at Mary. How dare she make such an assumption about the Doctor! Then again… she looked down at the precious alien in her arms. She might have made the same assumption… he had been going on about aliens, after all. And she had to admit, he was a bit of a kook, even on his best days.

"You're right," Donna admitted, adding silently to herself, 'about the first part.' She continued, "He doesn't deserve to be left alone. Are you ready to come home now, Doctor?"

The alien sniffled his assent. Donna gently peeled him away from her shoulder and wrapped an arm around his back. She slowly began to steer him up toward Devonshire Road, back to the Mews and a warm bed, and away from his dead spaceship.

Donna murmured soft words of encouragement to the Doctor as they made their way unsteadily back to Donna's home. He had stopped sobbing, but the tears still streamed down his face, and he began to hiccup. The walk back to her house wasn't typically a long one, usually ten minutes at a good pace, but the Doctor seemed to be in shock, and Donna went slowly with him.

They got to the front door about twenty minutes later, him finally having quieted down a bit. His face was red and his eyes were puffy, but the Doctor had stopped crying, and was letting Donna lead him without a fuss.

"Here we are," she said. "Home sweet home. Now, Gramps and Mum are home, so let's try to be as quiet as we can, yeah? If we're lucky they won't even notice you're here until tomorrow…"

The Doctor looked at her blankly, his eyes dull. She gave his arm a squeeze, then pulled the key out of her pocket, and turned it in the lock with a small 'click.'

"Donna!" a voice screeched from somewhere in the back. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake…" Donna mumbled. "Out on a walk, mum."

Sylvia Noble stepped into the entryway, seething with menace. "We've been worried sick! Gone for an hour, just walked out, no note, no message on the phone, nothing! What are we supposed to expect? Hm?" She faltered, noticing the Doctor for the first time. "And who the hell is this!? You've brought home some new… new boy toy and no notice! My word, the nerve of you. How on earth am I supposed to run a decent household when-"

"Sylvia!" an older man chided gently from the next room. "Who has Donna brought home with her?"

"A man!" Sylvia said, appalled.

Donna sighed.

Wilfred Mott walked over to stand next to Sylvia. "And who is this, Donna?"

"Gramps, Mum… this… is the Doctor."

A look of horror passed over Wilf and Sylvia's faces, before Wilf cleared his throat. "Sylvia, that's not… it must be another Doctor…" he murmured to his daughter.

"Right," said Sylvia, instantly re-composed and tight-lipped. "A doctor, you say? About time you find someone respectable-"

"Mum. This is the Doctor," Donna said again, meaningfully. "The Doctor."

Wilf and Sylvia stared. The Doctor looked down, abashed, dragging a toe through the dust on the step.

"But…" Sylvia began. "But he's all wrong! He's not… he isn't…"

"He had spiky hair the last time we saw him," Wilf said softly. "But I expect he's changed quite a bit since then…"

Donna nodded in agreement.

"Is it really…?" Wilf asked.

"It's me," the Doctor croaked out. He looked up, turning his red eyes to Wilf. "Hello."

Sylvia began to sputter in the background.

Wilf reached out a shaky hand to touch the Gallifreyan's cheek. "It really is you… but… if it… you… Donna!" In a flash, Wilf was holding his granddaughter. "Donna! Donna, please… please don't go… you can't die!"

"'M fine, Gramps," Donna said, her voice muffled by the top of her grandfather's head.

Sylvia continued to sputter in the background.

"Wilf," said the Doctor softly, his voice hoarse. "Donna will be fine."

Wilf opened one eye and peeked over at the Doctor. "You mean it?"

The Doctor nodded. "She… the TARDIS, my ship… my ship has been… dying, for some time now…" the Doctor paused to swipe at the tears that threatened to fall again. "I didn't think… so soon… but Donna." He looked up at Wilf, firm and resolute. "My ship absorbed the negative energy from Donna. It was… her parting gift, to me… Donna will be fine."

Wilf stepped back cautiously, keeping hold of Donna's hands, as if afraid that she would keel over at any moment. "Donna?"

"It's true… it's why I left earlier. All this golden energy started flowing away from me… I had to follow it. Now… can we come inside, please?"

"Right!" Wilf snapped to attention. "Right. Come in, Doctor."

Wilf stepped out of the way, pulling Sylvia gently behind him. They disappeared into the next room, Sylvia still sputtering and near hysterics, going on about "these bloody Martians…"

Donna stepped over the threshold of the door. The Doctor looked at her with pleading eyes, not moving. She sighed, and took his hand. "It's all right, Doctor. They're just surprised. Please come inside."

He took a tentative step forward.

"That's it, love. Let's get you all taken care of." Donna shut the front door behind him, and took both his hands in hers. She carefully led him to the bathroom, still going slowly. The encounter with Sylvia and Wilf had obviously taken a lot out of him, and he seemed to be on the verge of tears again.

"-a bloody Martian!" Donna and the Doctor both jumped. They could hear Sylvia continuing to shriek from the other room. The Doctor's eyes were wide, and he looked scared. Like a small child.

For the first time since she had met up with him earlier that evening, Donna got a good look at her Spaceman. He was still scrawny, and had a bit more hair. His chin was more prominent, his nose was more… feminine, she supposed. He was a tad shorter. But none of these features stood out so much as the scrapes and bruises. His outfit was torn and raggedy – she assumed from the TARDIS's crash at the Square – and he had a rather nasty bump on his forehead. She gently touched a finger to it, and he flinched.

"Oh, you poor thing," she said softly. "Will you let me help you?"

He stared at her, wild-eyed and fearful.

She put her hands on her hips. "Now, don't start getting all independent with me, buster. Aliens need help too, sometimes."

The Doctor nodded slowly, still looking terrified.

"You know I would never hurt you," Donna continued, more gently. She rubbed the Doctor's arm.

"I know…" the Doctor said, so softly that Donna wouldn't have caught it if she hadn't seen his lips moving.

"Good. Now, come here." She pulled him over toward the sink. She turned on the water, waited until it was warm, and wet a nearby washcloth. She gently dabbed at the scrapes on the Doctor's face, making sure they were clean. She slowly pulled off his tweed jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his undershirt, and did the same for the cuts and scrapes on his arms. The bruising she couldn't do much about, but she rubbed some ointment into his skin, hoping it would help. No painkillers, she remembered, so she supposed that this was the best she could do for now.

"There," she said as she finished. "Does that help a bit?"

She met the Doctor's eyes, which were brimming with thankful tears, this time. "Thank you, Donna," he said quietly. "Can I ask…" he trailed off.

She looked at him expectantly. "Yes?"

"Never mind, it's not… important…" He grimaced.

Donna raised an eyebrow. "Not important? You, calling something unimportant?"

"Fine, fine. I just wondered… how you recognized me."

"The bit about aliens and other planets wasn't enough to give it away?" Donna replied conversationally as she tossed the used washcloth in the bin. "If you really want to know… it was your eyes. I saw it in your face when I saw you talking with that woman at the Square. I just… knew."

The Doctor nodded. This made sense. Not a lot of people could tell, once he had regenerated. Other Gallifreyans could, but that time was long past.

"Why don't I rustle you up some pyjamas? We'll have a proper sleepover," said Donna, patting his hand. She stood up and headed to the front room.

"-and I will not have an alien in my home!" screeched Sylvia, maniacally, as Donna walked in.

"Now, Sylvia, he is just as much of a person as any of us. We talked about this!" Wilf shot Donna an apologetic glance. "Remember the last time we had that nice black family over? You were so worried about them, and they turned out to be lovely people-"

"The Martian isn't black! That's different! There's no comparison!"

Donna folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No. He isn't black. Or Martian. What he is, is hurt, and tired, and he needs pyjamas. Gramps? Do you have any he can use?"

Wilf looked at the Doctor, who was hiding behind Donna. He seemed grateful for the change of subject. "'Course I do, Donna. Second drawer down, on the right. The striped ones might fit."

"Thanks, Gramps." Donna turned to leave the sitting room.

"Oh, no you don't!" yelled Sylvia. "You are not – not! – letting Alien Boy near our clothes! You don't let him touch a single thing!"

"Oh, shut it," said Donna, and took the Doctor's hand. They turned down the hallway toward Wilf's room, Donna smirking as the shouting continued behind her. She felt bad for leaving her grandfather in there with her hysterical mother, but the Doctor was her first priority right now.

"Now, let's see…" she said, opening her grandfather's chest of drawers. "Second drawer… striped… here we are." She pulled out the specified pyjamas, and held them up to the Doctor's lean frame. "Hm… pants might be a bit short, but it'll just have to do until the morning… nowhere to shop this late, I'm afraid…"

She held out the garment to the Doctor, who held it gingerly, like a ticking time bomb.

Donna turned around and waited. The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. After a few moments, it became apparent that nothing was happening. "Are you going to change or what?" Donna asked, her back still to him.

"What…? I mean… here?" the Doctor squeaked.

"Yes, here, you prawn. Unless you want to brave being shrieked at by Mum again on the way to the loo?"

The Doctor considered this. He began unbuttoning his undershirt. Donna afforded him thirty seconds or so of privacy. "You decent?" she asked.

"One second," he replied, voice muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head. "There. Decent."

Donna turned and looked him over. "Hm. Definitely too short."

"What, me?" The Doctor self-consciously straightened his back.

"The pants, you twit."

"Oh." He exhaled.

"We'll get you some of your own in the morning."

"Yes. Right."

He was looking at the floor. Donna placed a finger under his chin, and lifted his head so their eyes met. His eyes were still puffy from all the crying he had done earlier, but he seemed in better control now. She smiled at him kindly. "Let's get some sleep, yeah?"

The Doctor nodded. She took his hands into hers again, and led him quietly past the front room, past all the yelling, up the stairs and into her bedroom. She set him gently on the edge of the bed, walked over to the closet and pulled out an extra blanket. She spread the extra blanket onto the bed on the opposite side of the Doctor, and went over to her dresser. She pulled out her own set of pyjamas, simple and white. "Turn around," she commanded the Doctor.

"…what?"

"I said turn around. I have to change too, you know."

"Oh! Oh… all right." He blushed vigorously. The Doctor turned his back to her and covered his eyes with his hands as Donna changed. After a minute or so, she walked over to him, and gently removed his hands from over his eyes, laughing lightly. "It's all right, Spaceman. I'm decent."

He cautiously peeked one eye open, and seeing that she was, in fact, decent, with no extra bits hanging out, he opened the other. Donna smiled, a small, reassuring smile. "Why don't you lie down, love?" She placed a gentle but firm hand on the Doctor's shoulder, pushing him slowly into the mound of pillows at the top of her bed. When he was settled, she took the extra blanket and pulled it up over his shoulders. "In the morning, you and I are going to have a nice long chat about all of what's happened tonight. But for now… I want you to sleep. All right?"

The Doctor nodded once, and closed his eyes. He looked so much like a lost child, and it broke Donna's heart. She ran her fingers fondly through his hair, and began to hum a soft lullaby.

She didn't feel herself start to drift off, but when she stirred a few hours later and saw that someone else had placed a blanket over her, she didn't mind too much. She snuggled deeper into the Doctor's chest, listening to the thrumming rhythm of his heartbeats as she dozed off again.