"Just look at her, Sylvia."
"Bah."
"She is so happy. Can't you just see how happy she is?"
"With an alien hanging off her shoulder? Joy."
"Does it really matter what he is? If she's happy?"
"He'll get her killed."
"He's a good person."
"He isn't a person at all."
"He's her Doctor."
"He looks young enough to be her son."
"He's centuries old, Sylvia."
"Good lord."
"Would you just look at that, though?"
"There is nothing to see."
"See how she looks at him."
"Like a puppy following its master?"
"See how gentle she is with him."
"It's wrong."
"She needs him, I think."
"She needs her family."
"You need to let her go."
"Hmph."
"It's time, Sylvia."
A lone tear trails down the cheek of Sylvia Noble. Wilfred Mott catches it with the pad of his thumb, and with all the love a father can give, his arms wrap around her frail shoulders.
3:45 a.m.
The conversation had finally reached a lull, and an empty box of jammy dodgers sat discarded on the floor. Donna was nodding off, letting her head drop softly onto the Doctor's shoulder as they sat side by side on the couch.
The Doctor said nothing to stop her. He really did find it quite nice when they were together like this, sitting, talking. The bet of friends, the very best. He gave a small smile at the thought, and put an arm gently around Donna's shoulders. The movement roused her again, and she looked up at her alien with tired eyes.
He smiled kindly at her. "You want to go back to bed?"
"No… no, sorry… don't mean to fall asleep..." she drifted off. It was obvious she was tired.
"Here, can I try something?" the Doctor asked softly.
"Depends…" she stifled a yawn, "on what it is."
"Just relax."
"Mm."
The Doctor shifted their positions on the couch, gently lifting Donna onto his lap so she was sitting with her back to him. He put his hands on her shoulders and began kneading them gently.
"Hm… feels nice…" Donna leaned back into his soft touch, closing her eyes again.
A moment passed.
"Donna?"
"Hm?"
"…Nothing."
Another moment.
"Donna?"
"Hm?"
"Oh… never mind."
"Okay…"
Another moment."
"Donna?"
"Doctor, ask your question or let me sleep," she mumbled.
The Doctor took a breath. "Well, I just… that is to say… I mean…"
"Out with it."
He exhaled. "Donna, do you like me?"
She sat up at this, and turned around to face him. "Of course I like you, you daft alien. Why shouldn't I?"
"I mean…" he shifted uncomfortably. "As me. In this body."
Donna looked at him. "Well, you're still you, aren't you?"
"Yes, but-"
"But what?"
"But… but… well, I don't know," he fidgeted. "It's been bothering me since I got here, I suppose."
"What has? You looking different?"
"Well… yes."
Donna laughed. "Doctor, you really think I care what you look like?"
He looked down, a little sheepishly.
She ruffled his hair. "You're still my Doctor."
"Yeah…?"
"Course."
He took a breath. "It's just… I don't know, this is so difficult."
"What is?"
"Well… the TARDIS, being here at all… I suppose I still feel upset at that…"
"Oh, honey - "
"But it isn't just that. I mean, I have all these, all these feelings, and I don't know what half of them mean, and I… I just don't know what to do about that." He took a deep breath. "It's been a long time since I didn't know what to do about that."
Donna stared at him. "Feelings?"
"Yes."
"What kinds of feelings?"
"Feelings like… like…"
"Like what?"
"Feelings like you're-sitting-on-my-lap-and-I-should-be-grieving- about-the-TARDIS-but-I'm-not-because-you're-on-my- lap-and-you're-so-pretty-when-you're-tired-and-I-t hink-I-might-like-you-maybe-a-lot." The Doctor finished in one breath, and Donna almost applauded, until she remembered that he had some fancy respiratory bypass thing. Aliens.
She giggled. "I knew it."
"Did you?" He looked horrified.
"'I'm the Doctor, and I just want to mate!'" She mimed using the sonic screwdriver.
The Doctor did a very good impression of a lobster. "I never said that!"
"Oh, this is fantastic!" Donna laughed, trying to keep from making too much noise and failing rather miserably.
The Doctor looked down. "Sorry," he mumbled.
Donna wiped away a tear, and chucked him under the chin. "You really think I'm pretty?"
"Yes." He shrank back into the sofa.
"Prawn," she said affectionately. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. He gave a small, hopeful smile. "Now," Donna began. "Before I tell you this, I need you to swear never to tell anyone else in the universe until I'm ready. I'm going to tell you a secret that only I know. Can you swear that to me?"
The Doctor looked confused, but nevertheless nodded.
Donna leaned in even closer, the tips of her hair gently tickling his shoulder.
"I love you too, Doctor," she whispered into his ear. She pulled away, smiling gently at him.
Grateful tears brimmed in the Doctor's eyes. She had understood. Of course she had. She was Donna Noble, beautiful, brilliant Donna Noble.
"Now, I'm going to sleep. You can either join me or do whatever it is Martians do when they don't sleep, but don't wake me up until, oh, ten or so."
The Doctor nodded, not trusting his voice yet, and hesitantly pulled her into his chest. He pulled both of them onto the couch so she was nestled in his arms in a comfortable spoon. She sighed contentedly and began to drift off again. His arm moved over her stomach and found her hand. She gave his wrist a gentle squeeze.
The Doctor breathed in the soft scent of her hair.
His Donna. His beautiful, brilliant, perfect Donna Noble.
She had finally understood.