Chapter 15: The Threat and the Promise

Donna Noble knew when someone was avoiding her, and the Doctor most definitely was. She had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, she felt the need to confront him about what was going on between him and Rosalind and about the fact that there seemed to be no end in sight to their time in France. On the other hand, she felt deeply uncomfortable around him after what she had seen. Donna would have sworn up and down that she was no prude, but seeing Philip—the Doctor—half-naked on top of Rosalind had genuinely shocked her. Not for what they were doing, but for the implications of it. She had already noticed, of course, that the Doctor seemed to be avoiding the moment when he would have to leave Rosalind. Donna wasn't stupid and her eyes were in perfect working order. She had seen the two spending more and more time together, their looks becoming more intimate and their caresses more lingering. She knew the Doctor was making it increasingly difficult to pull himself away. It was like watching a toddler strike match after match; it was only a matter of time before one took light and caused untold pain and destruction. She needed to stop it. And yet, she felt paralyzed. When he was with Rosalind he looked so desperately happy. What was her proper role as his friend? To take him away from such joy, even if it might prevent him from hurting even more? Not to mention the wider implications of his decisions, which she didn't even try to get her mind around. All in all, confronting him was not a prospect she relished, to say the least.

So she had procrastinated, putting off the conversation. In her own defense, he was so busy with the tasks of a king that it was actually quite difficult to get him alone. But finally she could postpone it no longer and, with much trepidation, she tapped on his door on the eve of Philip's wedding to Rosalind.

"Who is it?" he called, sounding brusque.

She opened the door a crack. "It's me."

"Donna! Oh, come in. Shut the door behind you."

She entered and gasped. The TARDIS was there, in the corner of his room. Her eyes misted at the sight of the beloved blue box. "She's here? How long has she been here?"

"Oh, a week or so. I've had her hidden with a perception filter. You scared me just now—it wouldn't do for some French courtier to come in and see a twentieth-century English police box in my room, now would it?" He gave her a Doctor-ish grin with Philip's mouth. The door of the TARDIS stood open and he darted in, manic with energy.

Donna approached and ran her hand along the blue wood of the door before stepping inside. The familiar hum greeted her and she leaned against a coral strut, closing her eyes for a moment to enjoy this brief homecoming. She opened them again to watch the Doctor circling the console, checking on the condition of his ship. Glancing up at her, he offered, "Philip's doing brilliantly, by the way. The TARDIS is keeping him in tip-top shape. No muscle deterioration or any other problem."

She gathered her courage. No time like the present. "Doctor?"

He looked at her and smiled.

"What are we still doing here?"

His smile vanished, but he did not seem surprised. She supposed this was natural; he had to know she would ask eventually. He said, "Give me a few moments, would you, Donna? I want to finish my check of the ship and get her camouflaged again. We'll talk in my bedchamber when I'm done."

So she left the ship, pausing to stroke the coral as she went out, and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for him. When he finally emerged, Donna expected the TARDIS to disappear. When the blue box remained visible, she looked at him inquiringly. "It's a perception filter, Donna. If you know for certain she's there, you see her. If you don't, you don't. There are stronger filters, but I don't need one because of course no one else here can even conceive of such a thing as this ship."

He came and joined her on the edge of the bed. "Now, Donna, you wanted to talk."

She decided to get directly to the point. "When are you going to return Philip to his life? When are we leaving?"

"Soon."

"Soon? As in tonight?"

"No, not tonight."

"I see."

The calm gaze with which he regarded her annoyed her. He knew exactly what she was getting at, but he was going to make her say it. She took the bait. "So you'll be marrying Rosalind tomorrow?"

"Oh, I should think so. She'd be very disappointed if Philip left her at the altar."

"You're being flip about this?" Her tone was one of disbelief.

He looked contrite, but not really—no, she realized, he looked like he was acting contrite. For her benefit. And now she was starting to get angry. "And I presume, given what I saw the other day, you'll be taking all the privileges of a husband on his wedding night?"

That got him, at least a bit. He flushed slightly pink. But his voice, when he spoke, was a drawl intended to bait her. "Again, I think she might be disappointed if I didn't."

"I never thought you were a perfect person, Doctor. But until now, if someone had called you a liar, I'd have defended you until my last breath. Now, though, I see that you are a liar."

"Donna…"

"No, you are. You keep telling me that we're leaving soon, that we get to go home, but you have no intention of doing anything but staying here and sleeping with Rosalind."

Now he looked more genuinely apologetic. "Donna, I haven't been thinking. We've been gone so long. You must miss your family, and they must be worried about you. I can send the TARDIS on a round trip from here to your time and back again. You can come back with her or stay where you are…"

Oh, she could throttle him, she really could. "How many times to I have to tell you this is not about me? I'm not worried about me! And that," she stabbed her finger at the TARDIS, "is a bloody time machine, so we can go back and my family won't know how long I've been away. What I'm worried about is the woman you're marrying under false pretences and the man you have in some kind of coma in there, who is missing out on decisions that will affect the rest of his life. Decisions you are making for him."

His face had subsided into an expression of mulish stubbornness, but he said nothing.

"And for some reason—although for the life of me I can't remember why right now—I'm worried about you! Because every day you stay here, every step you take deeper into loving that girl, you're going to be in more pain later."

"I'm perfectly aware of what I'm doing, Donna. There's no need for you to…"

"Oh no? And was there no need for me to be under the Thames that day? On the contrary, Doctor, you need someone to remind you that the universe needs you. It needs you out there, fighting, not stuck here mooning over a girl, however wonderful she may be."

He did not reply, and she moderated her tone, trying to express herself better. "Doctor, when we were at the Library, I was upset when River didn't know me, because it must mean that I don't travel with you for very long, which I hoped to do. But then I realized—it's not me the universe needs. It's you. What would it look like out there, without you? That's not something I would want to see."

"The universe got by for a long time before I was even born. Maybe it can get on without me for a while now."

"Doctor." She shook her head and took a deep breath. "This is the first time I've ever heard you make a completely selfish argument. In Durham, you were arguing for staying here longer in order to make sure the new plan was firmly in place. Well, it is in place. They're getting married tomorrow. There's still time, if you do it now, to put the real Philip in his rightful position. If you don't—if you decide to stay—it is purely for you. It's ignoring the needs of the universe and perpetuating a lie."

"The consequences of the lie will be mine alone to handle. My hearts are the ones that will break when I leave her. Why do you begrudge me a little happiness with her before I go?"

"Oh, Doctor. I hope I don't have to prove to you that I am your friend and that I don't want to see you hurt. But you will only hurt yourself more, and maybe others too, if you stay longer."

He took her hands in his own and focused all his persuasive powers on her. "Donna, do you know what this means to me? For once, for a brief time, I get to win. Do you understand that? I never touched Rose. I've never taken happiness for myself. And now, with Rosalind, I've found something I've never had. And I'm going to enjoy it for a little while. Just for a brief moment, I'm not going to be the last of the Time Lords. I'm going to be a man. And when the guilt overcomes me—and it will, believe me—I will leave her and I will go back to my life. I will deal with the pain that results. But right here, right now, I get to decide. You don't."

She decided to try a different tack. "Would Rosalind want you to do this? If she knew? Would she want you to sacrifice so many who need your help in order to stay with her?"

That stung him to his feet, glaring at her. "Rosalind would not want me to leave."

"You think so?"

"Donna, she's a woman of thirteenth-century Earth. She would have no context to understand the problem..."

"You're lying."

"What?"

"You're lying! Rosalind's the smartest woman I've ever met, and I'm betting she's one of the smartest you've ever met too, or you wouldn't love her like you do." He stared at her, obviously angry, but she pushed on. "She's unconventional and brilliant. She'd understand. She'd be skeptical, of course, and she'd be confused, but eventually she'd understand. And because she's honest and good and ethical, she'd tell you exactly what I'm telling you. You know that. And you're frightened of it."

"Be quiet, Donna."

"And maybe you're frightened that she'd hate you for what you've already done. That she'd love Philip but not you. Not the real you."

"Be quiet!" This was a shout. He'd never shouted at her in anger before, but she couldn't stop now. She'd come too far.

"If you don't stop this, Doctor, I will. I will tell her."

He had been pacing, but now he stopped and turned to face her. And in a flash, she understood the nickname. The Oncoming Storm. She'd teased him mercilessly about it when he confessed it to her months ago. Not since the Racnoss had she seen that cold fury in his eyes, and that time it had not been directed at her. Now it was, and it sent a chill down her spine. His eyes, still Philip's striking dark blue, had been drained of any beauty or warmth, leaving behind hard flint. Staring into them was like seeing…her brain searched for metaphors but came up only with clichés, though they suddenly seemed apt. Lightening on the horizon, yes. A snake ready to strike. So cold, so calculating, so very angry.

His voice when he spoke was quiet, although it rang louder in her ears than his shout. "If you try that…if you try to tell her, you'll force me to stop you."

She lifted her chin and tried to look defiant, although her insides were quaking.

He took one step toward her and continued, his voice all silky menace. "I could shut you in the TARDIS, of course, although the old girl might just let you out. She's fond of you." He took another step. "Or, I could denounce you as a witch or a heretic. I'll say you tried to poison me. I'll get you locked up." She recoiled from him. "Oh, don't think I couldn't. You are no one, and I am the king of France."

She knew she should rage right back at him, give as good as she got, like usual. But instead, her eyes filled with tears. That the Doctor would say such things…she couldn't believe it. In a choked voice, wiping the drops away as they fell down her cheeks, she whispered, "But you're not, are you? You're the Doctor. You're my best friend. And I don't recognize you."

This, at least, seemed to penetrate through his anger. His eyes returned to normal and he raised his hand to his mouth as if he too could not believe what he had said. He began backing away from her, and after a few steps, he reached the wall of the chamber and slid to the ground. He put his head in his hands and began to cry. She stared at him for a long moment, before going down on her knees beside him and laying a hand on his knee. He grasped her hand in his own and gripped it for several minutes until he got himself under control. Then he reached for her other hand too and met her eyes. "Donna, I'm so sorry. I don't know why I said that. It was unforgivable. I would never hurt you."

She said nothing.

"Donna, please. I'm sorry."

She looked at him. He looked genuinely apologetic and upset, it was true. But she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to forget the way he had looked at her and spoken to her. And she could still find nothing to say to him.

"You can tell her. If you think it's what you have to do. But…all I want is some time with her, Donna. A few weeks. Can I have that?"

The Time Lord was pleading with her for a few moments of happiness. Her heart wrenched. "Doctor, you see the time lines, not me. Are you sure you can keep this under control?"

"Yes, Donna, I promise."

"Doctor…what if she gets pregnant?"

"What about it?"

"You want the heir to France to be half alien?"

"What? No! Time Lords haven't reproduced through sex for a long time. That…that part of who I am right now is Philip. So if it happens, it's all the same in the end."

"So you keep saying." She sighed. "I don't know what to say, Doctor. I've told you before, I think it's wrong. But I don't want to hurt you or her. So I won't say anything, for now. But…"

"Thank you, Donna."

"I'm not done. I can't promise that I won't change my mind, if it seems like things are getting worse." She looked defiantly at him.

"I understand. Can I just ask…will you tell me first?"

"So you can lock me up."

He looked devastated. "No."

"I don't know, Doctor. I can't promise. I just don't know anymore."

"Please, Donna. Just come to me first. I swear to you, I won't hurt you. I was panicked when I said that…I never would really do it. Just…if it comes to that, give me one chance to fix things, before you tell Rosalind anything."

"Alright."

"Thank you, Donna."

She nodded and stood. "I have to go help Rosalind get ready for bed. It's a big day tomorrow."

And she left him without looking back.