The Best Laid Plans

by goodbye2pisces

A baby story Doctor/Donna style

2. Chapter 2

Donna opens her eyes to find the Doctor casually entering the room, his hands thrust deep inside his trouser pockets as if he's just returned from a leisurely stroll along the countryside. His expression is deceptively mild as he saunters in, but Donna can see the lines of tension in his face and the thunderclouds gathering behind his dark eyes.

"Just as an FYI you understand," he says, his tone light, but holding the hint of a warning. "Wouldn't want to bite off more than you can chew now, would you."

His eyes flicker to Donna's pale face. She sees the concern in them, but it's completely hidden behind a mask of false indifference by the time the thing turns its bulbous head to regard him, its fleshy hand still firmly gripped around her throat.

"You've changed your face," it says.

"Yeah, well, we do that," the Doctor says, shrugging casually, "it's a Time Lord thing."

"Still smell the same though," it says flatly and the Doctor suddenly frowns.

"Well, that was a bit rude," he says somewhat indignantly, "especially considering the source. I mean honestly, would it kill you to try a breath mint every now and then?"

"You don't remember me," the thing says, raising itself to its full imposing height.

"Nope. Sorry," The Doctor says, completely unimpressed. "Should I?"

"I'm Jocrassa Fel Fotch Pasameer-Day Slitheen," it says pompously, "Blon Fel Fotch Pasameer-Day Slitheen was my sister."

"Your baby sister by now, I'd imagine," the Doctor says mildly.

Jocrassa regards him in silence, its nictitating membranes blinking furiously as its lips curl away from its sharp teeth in a deep scowl. "She was adopted into a new family," it says.

"Good for her," the Doctor says proudly, "let's hope she turns out a bit better this time around, eh?" He frowns suddenly. "Hang on though, I thought the rest of you lot were destroyed in the explosion in ten Downing Street."

Donna thinks she may remember hearing something about that on the news several years ago. Some sort of explosion caused by faulty wiring in one of the offices that took out the acting PM and several of his most trusted advisors. She probably should have realised there was more to the real story than that, especially given her recent travels with the Doctor.

"I managed to slip on a skin-suit and make my escape at the last possible second," Jocrassa says flatly.

"See that just rubs me the wrong way," the Doctor says, shaking his head, "don't like last minute escapes, unless they're mine of course," he says, smiling humourlessly. "Especially don't like ones made while wearing skin suits that were just innocent people living their lives, until you came along and killed them."

"What are a few human casualties," Jocrassa says, disdainfully.

"I've always hated that word," the Doctor says, just as disdainfully, "casualty. As if there were anything casual about it."

"Strange," Jocrassa says, "considering how casually you murdered my entire family."

The Doctor's face turns grim. "I did what I had to do to protect the Earth," he says softly, "your family was going to destroy it and then sell the ruins to the highest bidder as cheap radioactive fuel."

"It was a legitimate business transaction," Jocrassa says indignantly.

"Oh please," the Doctor says, rolling his eyes, "and Clom is a spa planet."

"You will pay fo-"

"Yeah, I get it," the Doctor says, heaving an exasperated sigh, "I ruined your life. Your hatred for me burns with the fury of a thousand suns, or whatever. Jocrassa Fel.., look would you mind if we dispensed with all the Fel Fotch Pasameer-Day nonsense and I just called you Jo? No? Lovely. Look Jo, we can stand here pointing fingers at each other all day, or you could just tell me what it is that you want."

"Revenge," Jocrassa says, ominously.

"Revenge, right," the Doctor says, with an explosive clap of his hands, "now we're getting somewhere." He slowly raises his hands above his head. "You got it," he says.

"What?" Jocrassa says, nictitating membranes blinking suspiciously.

"I surrender," the Doctor says.

He sounds completely serious. Donna swallows with some difficulty past the huge paw at her throat and looks at him, but he won't meet her eyes.

"If this is some sort of trick..," Jocrassa starts.

"Nope. No tricks," the Doctor says, "I give up. There's just one condition."

"I knew it," Jocrassa says, flatly.

"Oh come on," The Doctor cries, "be reasonable. You can't expect me to agree to have my head ripped off without at least one condition, now can you?"

Jocrassa seems to consider that for a moment. Finally, it just shrugs. "Fine," it says, "what's your condition?"

"My life for hers," the Doctor says softly, indicating Donna with a slight nod of his head, "give me your word as an entrepreneur that no harm will come to her Jocrassa Fel Fotch Pasameer-Day Slitheen, and my life is yours to do with as you please."

"No! Don't!" Donna cries, her voice strangled with unshed tears and the weight of a meaty hand at her throat.

The Doctor's eyes flicker to her face and just for a second, no not even a second, a moment really, his mask slips and she can see the fear in his eyes, the fear and the utter emptiness. He believes that one of them is about to die and he's terrified that it's going to be her.

And in that single moment of weakness, Jocrassa knows it too.

A muscle works in the Doctor's jaw as his eyes return to Jocrassa's fleshy face. "Come on Jo," he says softly, "we both know it's my neck you'd rather be throttling right now, don't we."

Jocrassa's thin lips curl away from its pointed teeth in a ghastly grin as its bulbous head turns to regard Donna. "I thought I wanted to kill you Doctor," it says, slowly raising a single banana clawed finger to hover menacingly in front of the space between her eyes, "but I think I'll just settle for hurting you instead."

The air feels oddly charged Donna thinks, as if it's filled with static electricity. She stares cross-eyed at the creature's curved claw as the Doctor slowly draws himself to his full height behind its back. The mask is completely gone now, the fear in his eyes has been replaced by darkness, sweeping across the irises of his eyes until they're just two empty black holes in his face.

"Touch her," he says, an odd echoing resonance in his voice, "and there won't be anywhere in the universe you'll be able to hide from me."

Jocrassa shivers slightly in response to the strange energy crackling in the air, the nictitating membranes in its black eyes blinking twice as fast as before. It turns its head to regard the Doctor, pale and grim in his long tan coat, and suddenly smiles.

"You murdered my family Doctor. Think I'll return the favour and murder yours."

Donna screams, closing her eyes as it lunges at her, its clawed hand slashing through the air and plunging towards her face.

….

She feels the baby stretch inside her, gasping in surprise when she's simultaneously poked in the ribs and pelvis, her belly rippling with the unexpected sensation. Then she's sobbing relieved tears, because if she can still feel the baby moving, they must both be alive. She opens her eyes to find the Doctor stood beside a motionless Jocrassa, its lethal looking claws poised inches from her face.

He looks at her, his eyes fathomless black pools as he takes hold of the frozen Slitheen's hand and very carefully pushes it aside. Then he steps into the empty space between them and carefully removes Jocrassa's other hand from around Donna's throat.

Donna warily eyes the frozen alien as the Doctor takes her hand and steps around it, leading them through the narrow corridor between the bathroom stalls and the sink.

They embrace as soon as they're clear of the Slitheen, Donna throwing her arms around the Doctor's neck and burying her face in his shoulder until the choking sobs burning her throat gradually ease. She's dizzy. Unsteady on her feet. The baby kicks and she suddenly pulls away from him, grasping his shoulder for support as her other hand gently caresses her belly. It's only now that she's beginning to realise how terrified she'd been that she might never feel their son stirring within her again.

The Doctor covers her hand in his. "We have to leave," he says, "there's an entire Judoon platoon headed this way and they will definitely shoot first and ask questions later."

After hearing him speak, she suddenly realises how quiet it is. No, not just quiet. Completely silent. She hears nothing save the sound of her own breathing and the rustle of their clothing as they move in the still air. No ambient sounds at all. It's as if everything has just stopped.

She glances at the motionless Slitheen, frozen in a rigour of fury at the other end of the room and feels ill suddenly, her head spinning as she stumbles against the Doctor.

"Wh...what's," she stammers.

"Leave now," he says, "explain later."

Despite the fact that she's huge and weighs a ton, he gathers her into his arms as if it's nothing and hustles them both out of the room. Donna can do nothing but hold on, hanging her head over his shoulder as they flee the cafe through the front door.

The sun has set, smokey twilight giving way to darkness and rose coloured street lamps illuminating the deserted cobblestone streets in pools of pink light. Donna would think it all incredibly romantic under different circumstances.

"I may throw up," she gasps, her head swimming.

"I know," he says, as they hurry down the cobblestone street away from the cafe, "just do me a favour and try to aim away from the coat. I haven't had it Scotch-Guarded."

She nearly laughs, but finds herself clinging more tightly to him instead, trembling with the knowledge of how close she came to losing him. She swallows and tries to breathe in the fresh air, but everything is so still, the stagnant air like a beaded curtain pricking her skin as they dart through it.

They pass through a pool of pink light and she sees a sky dancer hanging motionless in the air, its fairy lace wings glinting like pale glass in the lamp light. Donna shuts her eyes and groans, the impossible image wreaking havoc with her equilibrium.

The doctor comes to a halt beside a wrought iron park bench ornately decorated with looping filagrees and stencilled wood. Iron street lamps stand on either side of it, banishing the darkness with diffuse pink light under a thick canopy of trees, their bare limbs revealing nesting birds perched like tiny statues amongst the branches.

The Doctor sets Donna on her feet and slowly exhales, and just like that, time resets itself and starts moving forward again. It's like a reverse sonic boom. The complete absence of sound is suddenly replaced with a cacophony of noise and movement that leaves Donna reeling and very nearly stumbling to the pavement.

"Easy, easy, easy," the Doctor says, gripping her firmly by the shoulders until she finds her head again. Then he's suddenly pulling her into a fierce embrace, his body trembling against hers and his fingers urgently burying themselves in her thick hair.

"Are you all right?" he gasps, his voice cracking raggedly.

"I..," she stammers, still somewhat disoriented, "I think so."

"Are you sure?" He pulls away from her, holding her at arms length. "Show me your neck."

"It... It's fine, see," she says, carefully rotating her neck, "just a bit sore."

He eyes her for a moment, as if trying to convince himself that she's indeed safe and stood in front of him. Then he pulls her to him again, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as his breath disintegrates into short ragged bursts.

Donna wraps her arms around him. "Are you all right?" she asks.

"Yeah," he says, his voice splintering into a somewhat hysterical chuckle, "I just saw my entire life flash before my eyes back there, that's all."

Donna's mouth quirks wanly at that. "Must have been quite a show," she says.

"Yeah," he says, chuckling again.

She lifts his head from her shoulder, her hands caressing his face as she stares into his ancient eyes, warm and brown just as they should be and sketched with laugh lines.

"What did you do?" she asks.

The Doctor swallows, looking suddenly guilty. "I needed it to stop," he says.

"Time," Donna says, a bit hesitantly, "you stopped… time." Somehow saying it out loud makes it seem twice as surreal. "You can do that?"

He sighs. "It's hard," he says, "and I haven't done it in a really long time, but yeah, I can do that."

He might as well have told her he could fly.

"Did it scare you?" he asks.

"A little,' Donna admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

He swallows and nods, his expression unreadable, then he shrugs off his coat. "Here, take this," he says, handing it to Donna, "it's starting to snow again."

"Why?" she asks, seeing something unsettling in his eyes. "Where are you going?"

He doesn't answer, just plucks the sonic from the coat in Donna's hand and shoves it into his jacket pocket.

"You're going back," Donna says, flatly, "to the cafe." He tries to leave, but she grabs his arm, forcing him to turn back and face her. "To do what?" she demands.

He just looks at her, his dark eyes churning.

"No," Donna says, defiantly.

"She would have killed you Donna," he says angrily, gripping her by the shoulders, "she would have killed you and the baby without a moment's thought."

She Donna thinks. Somehow knowing that thing might have been someone's mother makes the whole incident both infinitely worse and far more understandable.

"Right," she says flatly, "so this is a revenge thing then."

The Doctor looks suddenly wounded. He drops his hands and abruptly turns away from her.

"You told Jenny that killing changes you," Donna says, angry now, "that it gets under your skin and eats away at you until you become something else."

"This is different," he says, striding away.

"How is it?" Donna demands. She drops his coat onto the bench then runs to catch him up, one hand supporting her heavy belly as she crosses in front of him and cuts him off. "Doctor," she cries breathlessly, "she lost her entire family."

He seems to take that as an accusation. "I did what I had to do," he says, flatly.

"I know," Donna says, "I heard what you said back there. I'm not judging you for what you did," she lays her hands on his forearms, gripping his jacket sleeves to keep him from leaving, "but right now the Earth isn't being threatened. The fate of the universe doesn't hang in the balance. We're talking about one desperate creature, mad with rage and grief. If you do this, then there'll be no difference between you."

"It is different," he insists.

"How is it?!" she shouts, crying now, not because she's upset, but because she's angry and frustrated and her hormonal body turns every strong emotion to tears, "tell me!"

"Because it was you!" he yells back, his voice cracking. "Because it was you and she nearly…" he breaks off, his hand covering his forehead as his face collapses.

Donna closes the space between them, her hands pressed against his heaving chest. "Exactly," she says, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks, "she tried to hurt me and now you want to hurt her back."

The Doctor clings to her, holding her so tightly she's nearly breathless, his face buried in her shoulder.

"What you did back there," she tells him, "it's not what scared me. It was the look in your eyes that did it. All that emptiness. Like a void inside you."

A muscle works in the Doctor's jaw as he slowly raises his head to look at her, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

"You already live with so many regrets," Donna says, taking his face in her hands, "don't use me as an excuse to add another one. Please Doctor, for both our sakes, just let it go."

Something within him eases a little at her words. Some burden that he's been carrying around for years. Donna can see it falling away from him like so much excess baggage. She throws her arms around his neck and he gathers her to him, nearly lifting her off her feet. He closes his eyes and slowly exhales a long shuddering breath, almost as if he's been holding it in all his life, a poison finally leaving his system.

"Where did you come from Donna Noble," he murmurs softly, his chin resting comfortably on the top of her head.

"Chiswick," Donna says, chuckling through her tears.

The Doctor quietly chuckles along with her. "Thank you," he says.

"For what?" Donna asks.

He pulls away from her, looking into her eyes as he holds her in his arms. "For saving me," he says, "again."

Donna smiles, her hand lightly caressing his cheek. "Anytime Spaceman," she says.

The niggling little twinge in her back blossoms into a full blown spasm and Donna groans suddenly, gripping the Doctor's arm for support.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"Nauseous," Donna gasps, licking her lips, "really really nauseous. Need to sit down."

He helps her over to the bench and she lowers herself somewhat awkwardly into the seat. He sits down beside her, his cool hand slowly rubbing her unsettled belly as she leans against him, breathing deeply until the nausea passes.

"Better?" the Doctor asks and Donna nods.

"Bit like a roller-coaster this pregnancy thing," she says wryly, "always seems to be a toss-up between screaming and throwing up."

His lips quirk somewhat ruefully at that. "You may be suffering some after effects of the temporal displacement," he says, "it'll pass. Here," he says, climbing to his feet, "lie down."

He eases Donna onto her side and drapes his coat over her, then he takes a seat on the cold ground, his back against the edge of the seat in front of her. Donna runs her fingers through his softly disheveled hair and the Doctor leans his head back, gazing at her through half-closed eyes.

"I still have to go back," he says.

"I know," Donna says, simply.

"The Judoon aren't exactly known for their subtlety," he says, "innocent people could get caught in the crossfire."

"I know," Donna says, even though she knows he's lying, or at least not telling her the entire truth.

He's afraid to tell her that Jocrassa might try to get to him by coming after her again, but she already knows. She can see it on his face. Her mind strays back to the cafe and Jocrassa's twisted face inches from her own. She swallows and shivers, suddenly afraid.

"It'll be all right," the Doctor says, cupping her chin in his hand, "I promise. Just stay here yeah? No unscheduled trips to the bathroom."

Donna's mouth quirks slightly at that. "Tell him," she says, her eyes straying to her swollen belly bulging beneath the Doctor's coat.

He rolls onto his knees, his hands gently caressing her belly. "Stay off Mum's bladder," he murmurs softly, "there's a good boy."

The baby kicks and they smile at each other for a moment before the Doctor kisses her softly on the lips.

I'll be back as soon as I can," he says, and then he's gone.

Donna gathers his coat more tightly around herself after he leaves, shivering in the rose hued darkness. It smells of him, of stardust and possibilities. She lays down on the bench, breathing in his scent, watching something that resembles an owl watching her through the snow dusted trees. It cocks its head at her, regarding her with its wide alien eyes and Donna swallows and shrinks further into the Doctor's coat, remembering the enraged hollows of Jocrassa's dead black eyes staring at her. She shivers, her eyelids sliding shut as she futilely tries to block the images from her mind.

….

Donna wakes with a start some time later, her back cramping painfully. She sits up, a fine layer of snow falling like dust from the Doctor's crumpled coat. She doesn't know how much time has passed since he left. She looks up, wincing at the sudden twinge in her stiff neck. She kneads it away with her fingers as she eyes the three moons hanging like a triad in the sky, sporadically visible behind thick banks of swiftly moving clouds. A stiff wind blows through the bare trees, their snow covered branches creaking eerily in the silvery darkness. Donna shivers, gathering the Doctor's coat like a blanket around her as fine flakes of snow whirl and eddy through the air in icy whirlpools.

A little hand presses against her belly and Donna covers it with her own as she senses movement from the tree lined path in front of her suddenly.

"Hello?" she calls out, squinting into the darkness. "is someone there?"

Two roughly human sized shapes are making their way towards her through the darkness, their eyes glowing eerily in the intermittent moonlight. Donna starts, grabbing the back of the park bench and awkwardly pulling herself to her feet as they approach, hugging the Doctor's coat to her belly like a talisman.

"Wh..who's there?" she demands, her voice trembling, terrified that Jocrassa's partners from the news report have tracked her down, "do...don't you dare come any closer," she stammers, skirting around the edge of the park bench, placing it between herself and whatever new threat approaches.

The inky figures emerge from the path, stepping into the lamplight. Donna yelps in fright before they abruptly resolve themselves into Muriel Flemming and her grandson Nelson.

"Oh there you are Dear," Muriel cries as she hurries to Donna's side, a cloth bundle wrapped in her hands.

Donna sags with relief against the wood accented bench, her face glistening with sweat despite the cold.

"I'm so sorry if we frightened you Dear," Muriel says somewhat sheepishly, handing Donna the bundle, "the Doctor asked me to bring you this."

Donna's coat. She stares at it, her fear all but forgotten as she snatches it from the older woman's hands. "The Doctor," she says, "where is he? Is he all right?"

"He's fine Dear," Muriel says kindly, patting Donna's hand as she awkwardly pulls on her coat, "he's...I believe his exact words were, unraveling a bit of red tape."

She hands Donna a delicate looking handkerchief, trimmed with lace and the initials MF monogrammed in fine gold thread. Donna accepts it with a grateful smile, blotting her clammy face as Muriel goes on. "He asked us to make sure you made it back to the train all right," she says, "and to tell you that he'll be along just as soon as he can."

"Nan," a whinging teenaged voice murmurs from several feet away, "can we go now?"

Muriel's perpetual smile twists into a slight frown as she knowingly rolls her eyes at Donna. "Yes, yes," she says, her voice oozing patience, "not to worry Nels, you'll be out of the fresh air and back behind a virtual reality display screen in no time at all I'm sure."

Donna's mouth quirks into a wan smile as Muriel takes her hand. "Best to hurry along Dear," she says, "the natives are growing restless."

Donna grabs the Doctor's coat from the back of the bench and follows, joining Nelson by the edge of the path, his eyes glowing catlike in the silvery darkness. She can see why the Doctor has entrusted her to his safekeeping. He's young, Donna estimates no older than 15, or 16, but formidable looking. Taller than the Doctor and twice as wide. Donna might be intimidated if not for the guileless look on his boyishly smooth face.

She feels a growing pressure beneath her belly button, the baby's head she guesses. He doesn't seem to be kicking so much as trying to stretch past the confines of her cramped uterus. She swallows, a vague queasiness gnawing at her stomach as she follows the two Plasmavores onto the tree lined path.

"Don't worry Dear," Muriel says, giving Donna's arm a reassuring squeeze, her glowing eyes luminous in the snowy night, "we see quite well in the dark."

Donna swallows and nods, trying to get past the feeling that she's being spirited away by two of Dracula's minions.

"Scandalous, all this business of escaped convicts and stolen buses, don't you think," Muriel says, smiling gleefully as they emerge from the path onto the snow covered cobblestones, "but your young Doctor's sorted it. Why didn't you tell us he was the Head Detective Chief Inspector in charge of Scotland Yard's Interplanetary Division?"

The psychic paper strikes again, Donna thinks. Aloud she says, "so the, the...convicts, they've been caught then?"

"Oh yes Dear," Muriel says, excitedly, "it's been all over the news vids." She raises her hand, framed against the swirling snow and the well lit train station in the distance. "Desperate criminals' apprehended, New Strasbourg rampage comes to an abrupt end" she intones gravely, before dissolving into infectious giggles.

Nelson rolls his eyes, as Donna chuckles along with Muriel, giddy with relief. "No one was hurt then?" she asks.

"No, no one," Muriel assures her, "your young man saw to that. She links her arm through Donna's as they approach the shining station. "The local authorities were quite out of their depth you know," she goes on, "and the Judoon…well," she says with a shrug, "let's just say the Judoon may be known for 'always getting their man,' but they don't exactly concern themselves with who may be stood in their way when they do." She grins, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Just between you and me Dear, it was a very good thing that your young Doctor was there to take proper charge of the situation. From what I've heard he single-handedly managed to talk the desperadoes into surrendering peacefully, which if you know anything at all about the Slitheen is practically unheard of."

Nelson snorts explosively. "Oh please," he says, rolling his eyes, "was he wearing a red cape at the time?"

Muriel wrinkles her nose at him. "Don't be such a cynic Nels," she says, "where's all this post-adolescent idealism I'm always hearing about?"

"You can't believe everything you hear Nan," Nelson says, as if talking to a very young, very thick, child, "the news vids didn't even mention him."

Donna smiles slightly at that. The Doctor is always brilliant in a crisis, but rubbish at sticking around after it's over. Strange that he hasn't come back yet she thinks, her brow creasing slightly in concern, if the danger had truly passed there would have been no need to send Muriel and Nelson in his place.

Donna nervously nibbles her thumbnail as they enter the station, her back blossoming in another painful spasm as they approach the steaming train.

"Are you quite all right Dear?" Muriel asks, eyeing her thoughtfully. "You're very pale."

Donna swallows, smiling weakly at the older woman. "I'm fine," she says, "I think I've had enough excitement for one day, that's all."

"Yes, of course," Muriel says, squeezing her hand.

The train sits silver and gleaming upon the tracks, hydraulic pistons hissing theatrically amid the clouds of rising steam like something out of an old black and white film. It's all for show of course. The train's real power source is hidden beneath a facade of old-fashioned quaintness.

One of the young porters is stood on the edge of the metal steps leading up to the passenger cars, checking them in as they return from their day trips. Not the one the Doctor was speaking with earlier, the other, darker one with the earring and the electric blue streaks in his hair.

"Excuse me," Donna says, as he checks her name against the clipboard in his hand, "it's Trent, isn't it?"

"Yes, Miss," the young porter says, with a tip of his box-like hat.

Donna smiles at him. "What time will the train be leaving the station?" she asks.

"Midnight exactly, Miss," he says. "Arriving in New Vienna at 7 AM sharp."

"What's the time now?" she asks.

Trent removes an old-fashioned silver fob watch from the pocket of his waistcoat and pops it open. "9:02 PM precisely Miss," he says.

Donna pulls on her lower lip, nervously glancing over her shoulder towards the station's entrance. There's no sign of the Doctor. She hugs his coat a bit more tightly to herself, "I don't suppose there's any wiggle-room in that?" she asks.

"Sorry Miss," the young man says with an apologetic shake of his head, "Mr. Carson is very keen about keeping to schedule."

Mr. Carson the engineer. Donna remembers being introduced along with the other passengers their first night on board. She recalls him as a pleasant, but somewhat reserved older man with close-cropped steel grey hair and a very professional no-nonsense attitude regarding his duties.

Donna casts another anxious glance over her shoulder towards the station's entrance. She recognises some of the other passengers, trickling in through the turnstiles. A few of them calling out farewells to the friends and family members seeing them off. None of them are the Doctor. She's tempted to go out looking for him herself, but the truth it she doesn't have the stamina for that sort of thing these days.

"Not to worry Dear," Muriel says, giving Donna's arm a reassuring squeeze, "I'm sure the Doctor will be along any time now."

Donna smiles and nods, "I'm sure you're right," she says, trying to convince herself of it as well.

….

Nearly three hours later, there's still no sign of him.

"What's the time?" she asks Muriel for the fifth time in under twenty minutes. They're sat in the dining car, surrounded by the other passengers constant chatter. No one had been ready to call it a night after the excitement of the day's events.

"There are still a few minutes left Dear," Muriel says, her voice somewhat strained as she makes a point of not looking at her watch. She pours them both another cup of tea from the kettle on the table, her grandson completely oblivious as he sits next to her, staring at the virtual reality display in his hands.

Donna swallows, staring at the amber liquid inside her cup, her mouth twisting into a sudden grimace as her back spasms. She heaves herself up from the table, wending her way through the chatting passengers blocking the aisle on her way to the exit at the other end of the compartment.

"Don't do anything rash Dear," Muriel calls after her, just as the train begins to inch forward, Trent the porter pulling the exit doors closed and sealing them with the turn of a giant lever as Donna approaches. She nearly stumbles into him, swept off her feet by the accelerating movement of the train.

"Easy Miss," Trent says, steadying her, his hand accidentally grazing her swollen belly before he snatches it away with a look of vague embarrassment.

Donna barely notices. "You have to stop the train," she cries, breathlessly.

"Sorry? What?" Trent asks, blinking in confusion.

"The Doctor, my, my...friend," Donna stammers, "he hasn't come back yet."

"It'll be all right Dear," Muriel says softly, coming up behind her in the aisle, "I'm sure he'll be waiting at the next stop."

"No," Donna insists, "he wouldn't just… something must have happened to him." She turns towards the wide-eyed young porter. "Please," she begs him, nearly hysterical now, "you have to stop the train. We have to go back!"

"I'm sorry Miss," Trent says, pale in the face of a distraught pregnant woman, "but it's impossible. Your friend can re-board at New Vienna."

"Please come back to the table Dear," Muriel pleads with her, tugging lightly on Donna's hand. "It isn't good for you to get so upset. You'll only end up exhausting yourself."

"No," Donna snaps, irritated at how everyone is always trying to "handle" her, as if allowances need to be made for her "condition." The chatter abruptly ceases, the other passengers staring at her as if she's in the midst of some sort of nervous collapse.

"I'm not emotionally distraught," she says after taking several deep breaths. "I'm perfectly calm. See?" Of course the hormone induced tears sliding down her cheeks aren't exactly winning her case for her. Her eyes return to the young porter's face, "I'm completely rational and I am telling you, either turn this train around right now, or stop it and let me off!"

Trent looks utterly horrified for a moment, but whether it's in fear of incurring the engineer's wrath or hers, Donna can't tell. He swallows, nervously licking his lips before the door connecting the dining car to the passenger compartments abruptly slides open and the Doctor suddenly appears, breathless and panting in the doorway.

"Whew," he gasps, gradually regaining his breath, his brown suit rumpled and hanging slightly askew on his lanky frame, "had to run the entire way." He looks up, noticing for the first time that every eye in the compartment is upon him, "Oh hullo," he says, smiling nervously, "What'd I miss?"

Everyone starts talking at once, galvanised by the Doctor's sudden appearance. Their excited chatter fills the compartment as Donna bursts into tears, her back blossoming in pain as she throws her arms around his neck in a giant hug.

"Steady on," the Doctor chuckles, staggering slightly under the force of their unexpected embrace. "Hang on,' he says, abruptly sobering as she sobs against him. "What's all this then?"

Donna suddenly pulls away from him and swats him sharply on the arm.

"Oi!" The Doctor cries, clutching his wiry bicep. "What was that for?"

"For making me think you were…" Donna breaks off, sniffing tears. "Where were you?" she demands.

"I already told you," he says. "Didn't you get my message?" he asks, his eyes seeking out Muriel Flemming's face amongst the crowd.

"Yes, I got your message," Donna snaps at him, "but what's it even mean, untangling red tape. I thought it was some sort of code for everything's gone horribly pear-shaped, but I don't want to worry you so I'm lying like a throw-rug again."

His expression turns somewhat sheepish at that. "No," he says, "it was code for… You need to sit down, Donna."

"I what?" she says, blinking in confusion. "What the hell kind of insane messages are you sending me anyway?"

"No," the Doctor says, propping her up as she wearily leans against him, "you need to sit down. You shouldn't have waited up for me. You're exhausted."

"I'm not," she says, "I'm..." Of course now that he's pointed it out to her, she realises how tired she really is. All her limbs suddenly feel as if they've got lead weights attached to them.

"Here," he says, steering her towards the closest booth. She awkwardly lowers herself onto the edge of the seat, the Doctor kneeling in the aisle in front of her.

The noise around them is beginning to die down as the rest of the passengers splinter off into smaller groups and begin making their way back to their rooms. The excitement of the day falling away like a bad dream as the train steadily picks up speed.

"Time for us to turn in as well, I think," the Doctor says, as he exchanges quiet pleasantries with them on their way out. He looks nearly as exhausted as she feels Donna thinks, his brown eyes bloodshot and glassy looking.

"Not until you tell me where you were," Donna says stubbornly, just because she's about to fall over doesn't mean she's going to let him off the hook for all the worry he's caused her.

He looks as if he's about to argue the point with her, but suddenly seems to think better of it, recognising the stubborn set to her jaw. With a resigned sigh, he slides into the seat across from her, leaning wearily against the paisley slip cover at his back.

"I talked Jocrassa and her adopted sisters into surrendering peacefully by offering them a deal," he says.

"What sort of deal?" Donna asks.

"Well, the Slitheen are a sort of well known crime family back on Raxacoricofallapatorius," he says, "the authorities there have had a price on their heads for years."

"Raxo-what-now?"

Raxacoricofallapatorius," he says patiently, "it's where they're from."

Donna blinks. "You just made that up," she says flatly.

"No, I didn't," the Doctor says a bit indignantly, "the Slitheen home world is called Raxacoricofallapatorius." Donna's eyes narrow doubtfully. "Really," he insists, "and don't look so shocked. Not everyone's as on the nose about naming planets as human beings are you know."

"Whatever," Donna says, rolling her eyes, "so what about Supercalifragilisticexpialidocius?" Now she's just taking the mickey, and he knows it too.

"Raxacoricofallapatorius," he says flatly, "Jocrassa and her foster family would have been facing the death penalty there, and let's just say their laws regarding the ethical treatment of prisoners are fairly nonexistent."

Donna considers that for a moment as the baby jabs her in the diaphragm. She winces, swallowing queasily as her back again contracts in a tight band of pain.

"All right?" the Doctor asks, eyeing her with some concern.

She nods, licking her lips as she leans forward a bit, her forehead dropping into her hand. "You were saying something about a deal," she says.

The Doctor frowns slightly, "I called in a few favours and managed to get their sentence commuted to life on Cyberia instead. It's a sort of virtual reality prison world," he explains at the blank look on Donna's face.

"I see," Donna says softly, "and that's preferable is it?"

The Doctor shrugs. "Where there's life there's hope," he says.

Donna eyes him thoughtfully for a moment. "Preferable for you, I meant," she says.

The Doctor's mobile face suddenly turns to stone. "The truth?" he asks. "I'd have gladly sent all three of them to their deaths, but I knew you'd prefer it this way."

Oddly enough, Donna finds herself smiling slightly at that. He could have easily lied to make himself look better, but there's a certain vulnerability in his willingness to admit his true feelings to her, especially since they cast him in a less than favourable light. For an alien, he can be very human sometimes.

"I do," Donna says softly, covering his hand with hers on the table, "so, when you mentioned red tape?"

"I was speaking literally," he says, his expression somewhat pained, "I was filling out paperwork," the last word uttered as if it's left a bad taste in his mouth.

"You filled out paperwork for me?" Donna asks, her eyes filling with tears at the very thought. Somehow knowing that he's willing to do something so mind numbingly mundane for her shows the depth of his feeling far better than fighting off any alien attack ever could.

"Of course I did," the Doctor says softly, his mouth quirking into a wan smile, "I'd do anything for you, Donna. You know that."

"Thank you," she says simply, returning the smile.

…...

Despite their mutual exhaustion, sleep eludes them. Lying next to him back in their suite, the steady rhythm of the train rolling over the tracks vibrating hypnotically up through the bed, Donna's brain refuses to shut down. She closes her eyes and sees bulbous alien faces with black pits for eyes staring back at her.

He'd carried her back to their room, sitting her down on the edge of the bed and carefully undressing her down to her lacy white camisole, stretched taut over her bulging belly, her convex bellybutton forming a little peak in the middle of the material. Utterly spent, she'd pulled on her flannel pyjama bottoms, then lain back on top of the bed covers as the Doctor stripped down to his tee shirt, kicking off his trainers and pulling on his own flannel bottoms before joining her.

They lay there for a while, side by side, staring at the curved metal ceiling in exhausted silence. Donna's back spasms in a painful swath that radiates out across her abdomen and she awkwardly rolls onto her side, the Doctor lifting his arm so she can rest her head against his chest. He holds her close, his thumb tracing a light pattern on her shoulder as she breathes deeply until the pain subsides and he stares up at the curved ceiling, sleep seemingly just out of reach. Donna sighs and leans against him, they've never had a problem staying close. Despite her changing body, they always seem to fit together.

It all boils down to moments she thinks, as she lays next to him. Moments like this one that somehow make up a life. She thinks about how close they came to losing it all this afternoon, and is suddenly afraid.

"It's always hardest on the one that's left behind," she murmurs, breathing in his scent as she melts against him, trying to banish her fears back into the darkness.

"What's that?" the Doctor asks, his stubble covered chin falling against her forehead.

"Just something Muriel Flemming told me," Donna says, "she and her husband were together for sixty years, but now he's gone and she's alone. Someone's always left alone in the end."

The Doctor sighs, staring off into the darkness for a moment. "Why is it that people get married do you suppose?" he suddenly asks.

Donna blinks, startled by the unexpected question. "Isn't it because they fall in love?" she asks a bit hesitantly.

"No, that's not it, or at least that's not the only reason," the Doctor says, shaking his head, "you can love someone your entire life and never marry them."

Donna eyes him for a moment. "Why then," she asks.

"It's because we need a witness to our life," he says softly. "When we marry it's like a promise. You're saying that your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go unwitnessed because I will be your witness. For as long as I live, your life will have meaning because it will mean everything to me."

Donna swallows past the sudden lump in her throat. "But how can anyone possibly witness your life for more than a moment," she asks, her voice cracking. "The Time Lords are gone. Humans don't regenerate."

"Yes, you do," he murmurs, his hand caressing her warm belly, "like this. Everything that you are. Everything that's inside you. A part of it will live on in him. And in his children, and in his children's children."

"Yes, but, you'll still be alone," Donna insists, "even if I live to be a hundred, our moment will end. One day you'll blink and I'll be gone."

"Donna," the Doctor murmurs, his mouth quirking slightly, "you don't cry when the moment ends," he says, his cool fingers caressing her cheek and slowly running through her hair, "you smile, because it happened."

"You say that now," Donna says softly, "but I've seen the pain you live with. Sometimes I think it'd just be easier to leave and spare you any more."

"Don't say that," he whispers, his ancient brown eyes finding hers in the darkness. "That void inside me," he murmurs softly, "you fill it."

"And after I'm gone," she says, wondering how far he would have gone earlier if she hadn't been there to pull him back from the brink, "what will fill it then?"

One side of the Doctor's mouth quirks into a tiny half-smile as he stares intently at her. "The memory of you," he says.

There's an unspoken promise in the words. A promise that he won't betray her trust in him again by going too far, even after she's gone.

Donna's mouth quirks wanly as she slowly runs her hand along the length of his chest. The Doctor captures it in his, brushing the backs of her swollen fingers with his lips in a feathery soft kiss. Their lives are moving at different speeds she thinks with some regret. They'll never have a perfect fairy tale ending, but then few people do in the end she supposes.

"It's not the endings that matter," the Doctor says, seeming to read her mind, "but the bits in between that make life interesting."

Donna's smile gradually warms. "Okay," she says and that's her unspoken promise to live in the moment with him. She won't fear the future anymore. Whatever it brings, they'll face it together.

The Doctor returns the smile and presses his lips to her forehead in a tender kiss. "Donna," he says softly, "there's something I've been trying to ask…" he falters suddenly, tilting his head towards the snow caked window behind them.

"What is it?" Donna asks, blankly following his gaze.

"We're slowing down," he murmurs, mostly to himself.

"Are we?"

They sit up. Donna's back cramps painfully. She closes her eyes, swallowing queasily as the Doctor throws his long legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet disappearing into the plush carpeting.

After a moment even Donna can detect the train's gradual decline in speed. "We are," she murmurs as the Doctor abruptly stands and plucks his trousers off the back of the desk chair.

Donna leans over and turns on the lamp next to the bed, blinking rapidly in the sudden flood of golden light.

"Couldn't we just have arrived early at the next station?" she asks.

The Doctor shakes his head, pulling his trainers on over his bare feet. "It's 2 AM," he says. "Our top speed is 130 kilometres per hour. There's no way we could have reached New Vienna in under seven hours."

"A stop to refuel then," she says as the train grinds to a rocking halt amid the hydraulic hiss of pistons.

"The train runs by electromagnetic induction," he says, "as long as it remains in contact with the rails, it'll keep going. Anyway listen to that wind," he says, cocking his head thoughtfully, "we're in a canyon."

Donna listens to the banshee like wind eerily whistling past the windows, the train rocking slightly in the face of it. There's a soft knock at the door. The Doctor waits for Donna to hastily pull on her robe before answering it.

"Ah Valentine, hullo," he says pleasantly when the young porter whom he'd been talking to at breakfast the morning before, ducks his head into the room. "Have you met my…" an awkward pause as he indicates Donna with a sweep if his arm, "Donna."

"Miss," Valentine says, with a nod and a tip of his box like hat. "Sorry to disturb Doctor," he continues, "but Mr. Carson is asking that all the able-bodied passengers report to the Dining Car as soon as possible. I'm afraid we've run into a bit of weather."

"Thought so," the Doctor says, frowning knowingly, "blizzard is it?"

"I'm afraid so," Valentine says. "We were scheduled for a snow shield upgrade next month, but it wasn't considered a priority since it's highly unusual for a storm like this to hit so early in the year."

"Course it is," the Doctor says flatly, "but that's only because I've never been here before and the universe obviously hates me."

"Sir?" Valentine asks, startling slightly at the comment.

"Oh yes," the Doctor says nodding bitterly, "hates me, which is just… so… wrong, especially considering everything I've done for it."

"Right," Valentine says, eyeing the Doctor as if he's suddenly sprouted an extra head, "well I've a few more passengers to notify, so I'll be taking my leave." He nods, throwing them a final tip of his hat. "Doctor. Miss."

The Doctor slides the door shut behind him and angrily snatches his suit jacket from the chair, buttoning it up over his tee shirt.

Donna eyes him thoughtfully from the bed. "Are you all right?" she asks.

"Peachy!" he snaps testily, before forcing himself to relax with a weary sigh. "Sorry," he says a bit sheepishly. "I'm fine. I'm just… tired."

The baby stretches, nestling against her belly as she watches him pull on his coat. "Should I be worried?" she asks.

"Of course not," he says lightly, "we'll be back underway in no time at all. You'll see."

He joins her on the edge of the bed, tilting her chin up to kiss her goodbye. Donna impulsively throws her arms around his neck before he leaves, burying her face in his shoulder as he lays his chin on the top of her head.

"Promise me you'll try to get some sleep while I'm gone," he says, softly.

"I'll try," she says.

His cool fingers caress her face for a moment before he reluctantly stands up, throwing the door aside and sliding it shut behind him when he leaves. Donna listens to his lithe footsteps growing fainter as he retreats down the corridor, her back contracting in a painful swath that radiates out across her abdomen as she leans over to turn out the light.

She grips the edge of the night table until it passes, then peels off her robe, laying it across the foot of the bed before awkwardly turning onto her side and falling headlong into tumultuous sleep.

….

She wakes every ten minutes or so, the flaring ache in her back cutting through turbulent dreams filled with surreal images of pink snow, bulbous faces, motionless sky dancers and eerily glowing eyes. Her stomach becomes increasingly unsettled until she finally emerges from her dreams with a groggy sigh, swallowing queasily as she blinks at the digital display glowing 3:30 AM on the night table.

The baby shifts and she has to pee. She climbs out of bed and heads to the bathroom, her unsettled stomach gurgling ominously as she goes. She's sat on the toilet when she suddenly realises she's going to be sick. She slides off, unvoided urine dribbling between her legs as she vomits into the toilet. She clutches the seat, her back in painful spasm while her swollen belly heaves. Trembling now, she rips off a wad of toilet paper and cleans herself up, before pulling her pyjama bottoms back up.

She's dying of thirst. She fumbles with the cellophane wrapping on one of the glasses sat on the sink, tearing it open and releasing an icy cold torrent from the tap. She leans heavily against the sink, gulping glass after glass, then cups her hands beneath the cascading faucet, splashing the icy liquid onto her face and neck.

She grabs a towel from the rack, wadding it up and panting into it as she blots herself dry with shaking hands. Her back goes into spasm again, radiating out in a painful swath across her abdomen and suddenly the urge to get out is overwhelming, a compulsion she can't ignore.

She flees into the bedroom and plucks her robe from the end of the bed, her thoughts and emotions in turmoil as she shrugs it on. She doesn't bother with tying it closed before she slides the door open and stumbles into the corridor. She only knows she has to go, she has to flee the claustrophobic space and she has to do it now.

She starts to feel better once she's walking the corridor. The movement clears her head and she's able to calm her breathing down to something approaching normal. She's not sure what that was back there. A panic attack maybe, or post-traumatic stress from her encounter with the Slitheen.

Her back spasms again blooming across her abdomen in a tight band of pain and she stops, her breath taken away. She breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth until it passes. There's a light on in the dining car. She heads towards it, her fingers brushing the doors of the other passenger compartments as she goes.

She slides the door open and steps into the dining car. Muriel Flemming is sat in one of the booths chatting with a blond man wearing a neck brace, their eyes constantly drawn to the windows as they speak.

"Oh there you are Dear," Muriel calls to Donna, waving her over.

Donna manages a weak smile, sitting down at the table when Muriel slides nearer to the window to give her room.

"Have you met Reverend Holiday Dear?" Muriel asks, indicating the injured man sat across from them with a tilt of her head, "He's just on his way to join the parish at New Vienna, you know."

The Reverend favours her with an enthusiastic if somewhat pained smile and Donna returns it, breaking into a grimace when her back spasms again, radiating pain in a bright swath across her back and abdomen.

"My last appointment was in New Milan," the Reverend is saying, amicably, "I thought I'd take one last ski holiday before leaving and I'm afraid this was the rather unfortunate result," he says gesturing towards the stiff brace encasing his neck.

"I..I'm sorry to hear that," Donna says a bit breathlessly. Tiny beads of sweat have sprung out across her face and neck. She can feel it trickling between her breasts and sliding down her round belly underneath her clammy camisole.

"Yes, well," the Reverend is saying, "such is my punishment for thinking too highly of my skills as a skier."

"Oh I say my Dear," Muriel says, clutching Donna's arm in sudden glee, "this is exciting isn't it. A blizzard. How thrilling!" She looks out the window, an excited smile tugging at her lips. "I must say your young man is quite the take charge type isn't he," she goes on, tapping her finger against the glass, "he's got everyone working together, including my worthless excuse for a grandson. I believe the correct term is tough love," she says with a chuckle, patting Donna's hand, "Don't spread it around, but I think Nelson's taken quite a shine to your young Doctor." Her eyes stray to the window. "There he is, see," she says with a nod and Donna cranes her neck to see past the older woman's head and out to the snowy landscape beyond.

The Doctor is stood in the swirling snow, the edges of his long coat flapping in the stiff wind. He's holding a torch in one hand and a snow shovel in the other, pointing with the torch as he shouts directions to someone that Donna can't see. He looks up suddenly, as if he can somehow sense their eyes upon him, grinning at them through the frosted glass. He winks and blows Donna a kiss, before suddenly shouting at someone and bounding off a moment later.

Donna can't help but smile. World's oldest boy, she thinks. Then her back goes into spasm again and she finds herself painfully digging her fingernails into her palms to keep from crying out.

She heaves herself up from the table, muttering some sort of apology as she retreats from her bemused companions and begins to slowly pace up and down the aisle.

Reverend Holiday soon tires of watching her, turning his entire body to resume looking out the window, but Muriel continues to eye her thoughtfully as she restlessly paces.

"You should try to conserve your strength Dear," Muriel says, suddenly by her side, "you'll need it for later."

"Later?" Donna asks.

"How far apart are they?"

Donna stares blankly at the smiling woman.

"The contractions," Muriel clarifies.

"The…" Donna hisses in pain, her fingers splayed out beneath the curve of her bulging belly as a particularly painful spasm grips her.

Muriel gives her arm a reassuring squeeze. "You're in labour Dear," she says, gently.

An alarmed shout goes up outside and the dining car is suddenly heaving and bucking like a roller coaster as a tidal wave like roar fills the air. Donna shrieks, she and Muriel grabbing hold of the seats closest to them, linking arms as the train suddenly pitches on to its side, or starts to anyway.

The Reverend Holiday blanches, clutching the edge of the table across the aisle as a huge snow bank looms outside the windows, breaking their momentum as they slide into it. The train is suddenly plunged into darkness as it comes to rest at a shallow angle against what Donna can only imagine is the canyon wall.

The baby kicks. There's a soft pop like a water balloon breaking and Donna's flannel pyjamas are suddenly soaked as clear fluid cascades in a rush between her legs. It's as if a rubber band has snapped inside her. She stands rooted to the spot as it pours out of her, staring at Muriel Flemming's glowing eyes in growing horror.

She hears the familiar sound of trainers pelting through the snow and the Doctor suddenly bounds onto the train, his feet bouncing on the metal steps leading into the dining car.

"Everyone all right?" he shouts urgently into the near total darkness, "Donna? Are you all right?"

"My..," she says, her voice cracking raggedly as Muriel supports her arm, "my water just broke."

He doesn't answer.

"Doctor?" Donna swallows.

"Yes," he says, and she can hear him scrubbing his stubble covered face in the darkness, "I'm here. Just listening to the universe laughing at me."

She hears movement and the familiar whirr of the sonic screwdriver before amber coloured emergency lights flicker on throughout the cabin, illuminating the Doctor's drawn face like a sepia photograph.

Another contraction and Donna's eyes grow wide as her breath catches in her throat. Without the cushioning amniotic fluid between her and the baby, it suddenly feels as if she's being ground between two mill stones turning in opposite directions.

"Oh my God," she breathes, and the Doctor is suddenly there, stood in front of her.

"Oh my God," she whispers again, burying her face in his shoulder. She can't breathe. Can't move. Can't think.

He stoops towards her. "Clasp your hands around my neck," he says. "Donna," he says sharply when she doesn't respond, lifting her arms to his shoulders himself, "clasp your hands around my neck."

She screws her eyes shut, hissing in pain, but manages to do as she's told, lacing her fingers around the back of his neck. The Doctor straightens to his full height, lifting Donna onto her toes in the process, his cool hands gently kneading the small of her back as she sighs in relative relief.

"How long have you been having contractions?" he asks, noting her clammy skin and pallid complexion.

Donna swallows, remembering that first twinge back at the cafe when the Slitheen had burst through the bathroom door. "Since the cafe this afternoon I guess," she says, tears slowly sliding down her cheeks.

His eyes grow suddenly wide. "Donna, that was twelve hours ago," he says sharply. "You've been in labour for twelve hours and didn't think to tell me?"

"Well, I don't know!" she gasps, "I've never been in labour before have I. I didn't… It didn't seem..," she stammers, "anyway it only started getting really bad after you left."

"Doctor," Muriel asks from across the aisle where she's helping the injured Reverend Holiday gingerly extricate himself from a slanting booth, "what's happened, to the train I mean."

"Avalanche," the Doctor says simply.

"Avalanche?!" All three of them cry at once, somewhat hysterically.

The Doctor blinks. "Only a little one," he says mildly.

"We're not like, teetering on the edge of a cliff, or anything are we?" Donna asks.

"No, no, no, no," the Doctor says with a dismissive wave, "we're just sort of wedged up against the canyon wall that's all. We're in no immediate danger," he says, his eyes falling on Donna's pale face, "but it doesn't look as if we'll be going anywhere for quite a while either."

Donna swallows, her mouth suddenly dry. "No," she says, shaking her head, "no, no, no, no."

"It'll be fine," he says, his hands caressing her face, "everything will be all right. I'll be right here with you the entire time."

"No, it's too soon," she says, her hands clutching desperately at his, "I'm not even thirty-eight weeks."

"You're fine," he says, "anything past thirty-seven is full term."

"No but, What To Expect says the baby's lungs need to develop right until the end," Donna babbles, trying to talk him out of it, "it's supposed to be especially important for little boys."

"Donna this is the end," the Doctor says, looking her in the eyes. "Once your water breaks that's it, there's no turning back." His long fingers caress her swollen belly, "this inside baby's about to become an outside baby."

"Oh God," Donna breathes, closing her eyes. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to happen at a nice calm birthing centre in Chiswick. She was supposed to be with her friends and her family, her mum and her granddad, not on a derailed train in the middle of a blizzard on some planet whose name she's forgotten, surrounded by strangers.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," she babbles, glancing helplessly around the dimly lit dining car, at the paisley covered seats and Formica tables and jute carpeting. He can't be serious she thinks, he can't seriously expect her to have the baby here. What if something goes wrong?

As if mocking her fears, her body betrays her with another contraction and Donna stiffens, her breath catching in her throat as the Doctor once again lifts her hands to his neck.

"Breathe Donna," he says softly, pulling them both up to his full height, "just breathe. It'll only be worse if you hold your breath."

Donna breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth until the spasm passes, the Doctor gently kneading her back as she leans against him.

"Shouldn't someone be timing these?" the Reverend Holiday asks, his voice cracking with tension.

"Six minutes," the Doctor says, simply, "well, five minutes forty-eight seconds to be precise." He blinks at the sudden incredulous look on the Reverend's face. "I've got a sort of sixth sense when it comes to time," he says, with a shrug.

The rest of the passengers have begun filing in to the dining car, powdery snow salting their heavy overcoats, melting to slush on their boots. Muriel Flemming joins her grandson, scowling sullenly as he stamps the snow from his feet, and quickly fills them in on what's happening.

The Doctor catches the engineer's eye from where he's stood with Donna a bit further up the aisle.

"Ah Mr. Carson there you are," he says mildly, "I don't suppose we've a doctor on board?"

"What, besides you, you mean?" Carson asks, confused.

"Right," the Doctor murmurs, mostly to himself, "of course. It would be me, wouldn't it."

"There's an on-call doctor, of course," Carson says after a moment, "but all the communications systems have been knocked offline and we've no way to contact her. The good news is that when we derailed, the emergency beacon automatically activated. Rescue vehicles would have already been dispatched."

"How long until they get here?" the Doctor asks.

Carson's mouth twists into a somewhat rueful frown. "Well, that's just it," he says, "they're sub-light buses flying in from New Paris. With this storm it'd be at least six, maybe seven hours I'd say."

Donna stiffens, groaning softly as another contraction grips her.

"Yeah, I don't think we've got that kind of time," the Doctor says, eyeing her thoughtfully as he gently massages her back. "Medical supplies then," he says briskly.

"Those we've got," Carson says, nodding once. He looks around, "Valentine," he says, catching the young porter's eye, "take Trent with you to the control room and bring the emergency medical kits back here, there's a good lad."

"Yes, Mr. Carson," the somewhat overwhelmed looking young man says, dragging his equally bemused coworker along with him.

"Doctor, what can we do?" Muriel asks, the rest of the passengers gathering around them in concern.

The Doctor smiles wearily. "I need more light," he says. "Torches. Lanterns. Candles. Light and clean linens. Anything and everything you can find."

"Consider it done," Muriel says, her grandmotherly voice reassuring as she and the rest of the passengers hop to their assigned tasks.

The young porters reappear, each sporting a fluorescent yellow case in hand. "Medical supplies, Doctor," Trent calls breathlessly as Mr. Carson joins them.

"Let's see what we've got," the Doctor says as Donna clings to him, averting her eyes as the young porters crowd together, opening the cases and holding them up for him to see.

The Doctor slips on his glasses and frowns thoughtfully at the contents. "Is that it?" he asks.

"Basic first-aid supplies only on board," Mr. Carson says apologetically. "We've a teleport for emergency cases of course, but it's-"

"Let me guess," the Doctor says flatly, "offline."

"Fraid' so, yeah," Carson says.

The Doctor sighs, wearily scrubbing his stubble covered face with the palm of his hand. "Right," he murmurs, thoughtfully, "I knew I should have checked the TARDIS into the baggage car. I was just afraid she'd find it too insulting. He shrugs. "Oh well, no use crying about it now. Looks like we're gonna be kicking this old skool."

The two young men eye each other in awkward silence as the Doctor takes a quick visual assessment of the entire compartment.

"There," he says suddenly, "the last booth on the left." All heads turn to regard the downward sloping end of the compartment. "The angle of that table is nearly perfect. Put the medical kits over there. Where's the cook?" he asks, as Trent and Valentine hurry down the aisle.

"Here Sir," a voice calls out as a blunt fingered hand attached to a burly looking bald man stabs the air.

"Right. What's your name?"

"Cavendish, Sir."

"Open the kitchen, Cavendish," the Doctor tells him, "we'll be needing plenty of boiling water."

"Cor, blimey," Cavendish says in wonderment, "I thought they only did that in the movies."

"For tea," the Doctor clarifies, "I'm dying for a cuppa. Oh and cups of chipped ice as well."

"For the tea?" Cavendish asks, blinking in confusion.

"It's for the mother you daft idiot," Mr. Carson snaps, "now go and see to it."

"Got three girls of my own," he says, nodding at the Doctor as Cavendish quickly slides open the door leading to the kitchen.

The Doctor nods back. "A chair would be helpful," he says, "or a stool."

"There's a stepping stool in the engine room," Carson says, thoughtfully, "will that do?"

"Perfect," the Doctor says, as Carson sends Valentine to fetch it.

Donna shudders as another contraction grips her, burying her face in the Doctor's shoulder. She's shivering, her body trembling uncontrollably and her teeth chattering though she isn't cold. She rears back, looking at the Doctor with wide frightened eyes.

"It's all right. You're fine. It's normal," he reassures her, his cool hands caressing her clammy face, "it's just your body's way of preparing for what it's about to do."

"I'm afraid," she gasps, hyperventilating now. She feels as if she's stood at the centre of a huge vortex. Everything spinning out of control around her as she stands alone and helpless to stop it. At the mercy of her labouring body and the new life inside her, demanding entrance into the world.

The Doctor closes his eyes, his fingers spreading slightly as they move to her temples. She feels his mind envelop hers like a warm breeze, calm and vast with experience, bringing order to the chaos spinning inside her head.

"I'm right here Donna," he says softly, his voice soothing in her mind, "you're not alone. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

Donna covers his hands with hers, shivering in the dim sepia light, her breath gradually slowing as the Doctor opens his eyes, staring into hers with reassurance and a touch of something else. Guilt maybe?

"Women have been giving birth for thousands of years Donna," he says, softly, "and so can you. Your body already knows what to do. All you have to do is listen to it."

Donna swallows. "Okay," she says, nodding nervously, "okay."

The other passengers have begun filtering back into the dining car, carrying bundles of fresh linens and portable lights. They smile encouragingly at her as they pass. She closes her eyes and groans.

"Does it have to be right here though," she murmurs, turning her tear streaked face away from the concerned curiosity in their eyes.

"The power's out Donna," the Doctor says softly, "there are no emergency lights in the passenger compartments. I managed to boost the battery life in here, but even so I doubt we'll have more than a few hours worth of light at best."

He looks up as Mr. Carson and the two young porters busy themselves with sealing the dining car against the cold wind blowing outside. Donna turns her head to follow his gaze, watching the whirling snow caking against the windows like powdered sugar.

"No power," she murmurs, feeling herself starting to panic again, "does that mean no heat as well?"

"We'll be fine," the Doctor assures her, "there are insulated thermal coils built into the train's superstructure. As long as we seal off the compartment, we should stay warm enough until help arrives."

"It's not us I'm worried about," she says.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to the baby, Donna," he says, his tone solemn, "I promise."

Donna swallows. "Okay," she murmurs, taking him at his word. She has no other choice but to really.

She stiffens, hissing in pain as another contraction grips her, desperately clasping her hands around the Doctor's neck like a lifeline.

"Four minutes thirty-two seconds," he says thoughtfully, lifting her onto her toes, his fingers gently working her back.

"You what?" Donna gasps.

"Since your last contraction," he says, frowning slightly.

"Should I be pushing, or something?" Donna gasps, her belly hot and tight with pain.

"You'll know when it's time," the Doctor says, "you're fully effaced, but only about six centimetres dilated."

She doesn't even bother asking him how he knows that. "Six?" she cries indignantly, "after twelve hours? Are you freaking kidding me!" Now that the moment is finally here, she just wants it over. She wants this kid out of her and she wants her body back. Now!

"Yeah, that's why they call it labour Donna," the Doctor says patiently, "if it were quick and easy, it'd be called something far more pleasant and Wii would have a video game for it, like bowling."

"That's it," she gasps, blinking sweat from her eyes, "as soon as this kid's born, I'm going home to Mother."

The Doctor's mouth quirks slightly, before his expression abruptly sobers. "I'm so sorry Donna," he says ruefully, "for everything. This is all my fault. I never should have brought you here, especially not now. Can you forgive me for being such a fool?"

"It's not your fault," Donna says, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth until the pain begins to ease. "Then again, I am sort of preoccupied with the idea of squeezing an entire human being out of my vagina just now, so it's possible my judgement may be a bit off."

She can still feel the baby moving between each contraction, nudging and stretching as if he knows his world is about to become a whole lot bigger. Donna swallows, both thrilled and terrified at the thought of holding him in her arms for the first time.

The Doctor sighs. "Come on," he says, folding her arm through his, "let's walk for a bit. See if we can't get things moving along a little faster."

They begin to pace the aisle together, Donna's arm linked through his, her soggy pyjama bottoms clinging uncomfortably to her legs as she continues to leak a bit of amniotic fluid with each contraction. She hisses in pain, holding her free hand to the small of her aching back, stopping to clasp both hands around the Doctor's neck every few minutes when another contraction takes hold.

"See, this is why I never make plans," the Doctor grumbles suddenly, kneading her back as she groans softly against him.

"You what?" Donna gasps, blinking sweat from her eyes as she looks up at him.

"-and it isn't as if I haven't been trying to do it for months you know," he continues, growing increasingly frustrated, "but things just kept coming up! Genetically engineered living biological weapons. Mad dictators bent on ruling the universe. That nutter at Martha's wedding with the device that turned everyone's skin blue. I mean look at that," he cries, extending his long fingers for Donna to examine, "I'm still digging blue out from underneath my finger nails."

The rest of the passengers, in the midst of being served tea by the kitchen staff, suddenly look up, mesmerised by the stream of improbable words tumbling from the Doctor's mouth. Cavendish, on his way over with the Doctor's tea, seems to suddenly think better of it. He slowly backs away, sipping from the cup in his hand as if to steady his own shaky nerves.

"Next thing I knew you were nine months gone and I was running out of time" the Doctor is saying, "so I… I planned this trip. Even though I knew I was probably cutting it too close."

Donna cries out as a particularly painful spasm grips her, radiating out in a painful swath across her back and abdomen.

"Make that definitely cutting it too close," he says flatly.

"Trying to do what?" Donna half-gasps, half-groans, gritting her teeth through the pain. "What are you on about?"

The Doctor heaves an exasperated sigh. "This," he says, fumbling inside his coat pocket for a moment and withdrawing a small black velvet box. He pulls it open to reveal an exquisitely faceted diamond ring with a circle of glittering blue sapphires framing the stone. Donna's eyes grow wide at the sight of it.

"What the hell is that?!" she cries.

The Doctor swallows, "It's… it's an engagement ring," he stammers nervously.

"I can see it's an engagement ring, you idiot," Donna cries, "you're proposing now? Your timing sucks!"

"I know," the Doctor whines, raising her hands to his neck as he absently kneads her back, "but in my own defence, I've been trying to do it since we got here. I mean, I wanted to do it yesterday at breakfast, but you got sick. So I thought I'd try again at the cafe, but a bloody Slitheen showed up! Then tonight, back in the room-"

"Blizzard. Avalanche. Yeah," Donna gasps, nodding rapidly through the pain, "we're on the same page. So just ask me already."

"Oh right," he says, taking a deep breath. "Will you marry me, Donna."

"It depends," Donna says, blinking sweat from her eyes as the baby pokes her in the diaphragm.

The Doctor blinks. "Depends on what?" he asks.

"On why you're asking," Donna says.

"What do you want a list?"

"A list would be nice yeah," Donna says, stiffening through another contraction, "and none of the reasons can be because you accidentally got me up the duff and now you feel all guilty about it."

The Doctor's mouth quirks slightly at that. "Not on the list," he says softly, caressing Donna's flushed cheek.

"Well, why then?" she asks.

"I want to marry you Donna Noble," the Doctor says softly, "because you make me laugh and you make me think." He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a simple white handkerchief, which he uses to gently wipe the sweat from her flushed face. "Because you ask really difficult questions," Donna chuckles slightly at that. "Because you never let me get away with anything. Because you have absolutely no idea how truly spectacular you really are. Because I can't imagine being without you. Because you make me want to be a better man, but mostly it's because," he says, taking Donna's clammy hands in his, "I've fallen in love with you Donna. Completely. Hopelessly. The truth is, I'm still falling."

"Oh my Dear," Muriel Flemming murmurs as the rest of the passengers look on in mesmerised silence, "how heavenly."

Donna finds herself laughing and crying all at once as Muriel grins at her. "Really?" she asks, her eyes returning to his face.

"Oh yes," the Doctor says, grinning now.

Donna gasps, tearfully throwing her arms around his neck, "I… I love you too," she cries, "I was afraid to say it, to even think it really, because I wasn't sure how you felt, but I do. I love you. So much."

The Doctor chuckles, pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss that ends a few seconds later when another contraction takes hold and the rest of the passengers break into spontaneous applause. Donna hisses in pain, breaking away from him as her belly cramps painfully.

"So, it's a yes then?"

"Yes. Yes. Of course it's a yes," Donna nods, crying and laughing and moaning all at once.

He takes the ring from the box and slips it onto her finger, or tries to anyway. Her fingers are so swollen with late-pregnancy water retention it doesn't fit.

"Just… push it," Donna says, gritting her teeth, but he can't seem to slide it past her swollen knuckle. Her eyes narrow slightly, as she looks up at him, "just the way I always imagined this moment," she says tartly, "sweaty and bloated. It's like a dream come true."

"Hang on, hang on, hang on," he says, patting his pockets until he locates the sonic screwdriver. He changes a setting on it and points it at the ring, the familiar whirring filling the compartment. Donna can feel the ring becoming decidedly less snug as the Doctor slides it the rest of the way down her finger.

"Expanded the molecular bonds in the metal," he says, simply.

Donna gasps as her back and belly cramp in a tight band of pain. The contractions are coming hard and fast now. She barely has time to catch her breath between them.

"Right," the Doctor says, cheerfully, "Reverend Holiday, would you mind doing the honours?"

"What, you want to get married now?" Donna gasps.

"Yeah, well I sort of promised your mum we'd do it before the baby came," he says somewhat sheepishly.

"You spoke to my mum?"

"Well, it is traditional isn't it, for the groom to ask the parents permission for their daughter's hand in marriage. Not to mention I thought it would be the prudent thing to do seeing as how your mum you know, hates me, and owns an axe."

"No," Donna says, her back cramping painfully, "I mean you promised my mum we'd get married before the baby came and didn't think to run it by me first?"

"Oh right," the Doctor says, swallowing nervously, "in retrospect I can see how that might have seemed like the proper thing to do at the time, but… have I mentioned that I'm complete rubbish at this?!"

Donna rolls her eyes. "Fine, whatever," she says, hissing in pain at the nearly constant contractions wracking her body, "let's just do it already. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep crossing my legs."

The rest of the passengers happily descend on them, offering their congratulations with light kisses to Donna's flushed cheeks and hearty slaps on the Doctor's back. Muriel Flemming gathers all the pink carnations from the kitchen vases to make Donna a bouquet. Maya and Sophia, the ginger cat couple, offer her the ribbons from Maya's sleeves to tie back her disheveled hair for something borrowed. Trent gives her his lucky silver piece to place in her slipper. The ring is both old and blue. That just leaves something new.

"Something new, right," the Doctor says, holding up his hand and the delicate silver chain dangling from it. "I got this for you today, in between signing forms of course," he says, wrinkling his nose distastefully as he fastens the delicate clasp at the back of Donna's neck.

She looks down at the powder blue gem at her throat, cut into the shape of a glimmering sky dancer. "It's beautiful," she gasps, recovering her breath between contractions.

"It is," the Doctor agrees, "now that you're wearing it."

Another contraction and Donna stiffens, crushing her impromptu bouquet against his neck as he pulls her up onto her toes, swaying rhythmically with her as he gently massages her back. Somehow she'd never pictured the slow dancing at her wedding quite like this.

"Off you go then Vicar," the Doctor says cheerfully, as the Reverend Holiday stands stiffly in the aisle before them, holding his little leather bound prayer book somewhat awkwardly in front of his face to accommodate the stiff brace around his neck.

"Dearly beloved," the Reverend Holiday intones solemnly, "we are gathered here today in the face of this company-"

Donna cries out as another contraction takes hold, burying her face in the Doctor's shoulder as she struggles to catch her breath.

The Doctor looks up, his brown eyes wide. "Yeah, probably best just to cut to the chase eh Vicar? There's a good man."

"Oh, right," the Reverend says, awkwardly thumbing through his little book as if flustered by the sudden break in rhythm. "Right, here we are," he says, suddenly looking up. "Do you…" he says, looking expectantly at Donna, having apparently forgotten her name.

"Donna Constance Noble," Donna says, breathlessly.

"Constance?" the Doctor asks.

"What's wrong with Constance?" she gasps, another contraction tightening her belly.

"Nothing," he says, "it's very pretty." His eyes narrow thoughtfully, "mind you, it does sound a bit like Constantinople if you say it very fast."

Donna glares at him as they slowly sway together. "Sorry" he says, swallowing sheepishly, "did I say that out loud?"

"Ahem," the Reverend mutters, eyeing them both with a half cocked eyebrow, "as I was saying. Do you Donna Constance Noble take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," Donna says, smiling shyly as the Doctor grins back at her.

"And do you Doctor…" he falters, eyeing the Doctor expectantly.

"Varian," the Doctor says softly, his eyes locked with Donna's.

"Do you Doctor Varian-"

"No," the Doctor says, glancing back at him, "no Doctor, just Varian."

"Varian?" Donna asks, testing the word on her tongue as another contraction wracks her back with pain.

"Yes," he says softly, his long fingers gently kneading the small of her back.

"That's your name?"

"Yes," he says, "well, no. Not exactly. My full name is a deal longer and more inexplicable frankly, I'll tell you that later when we're alone, but Varian is the name my mum gave me."

"Varian," Donna says thoughtfully, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth to ease the pain. She smiles slightly, "Vari."

The Doctor frowns suddenly. "No, don't, don't call me Vari," he says, shaking his head, "just don't."

Donna smirks at him, grimacing suddenly when another contraction takes hold within moments of the last.

"Right, back to the ceremony," the Doctor says, slowly swaying with her, turning his head to regard the decidedly flustered looking Reverend.

"I say, are you two quite sure about this?" he asks, "Not that I'm against these modern arrangements of course, but it is generally expected that the bride and groom at least know each other's names before marrying."

"Oh well, you know," the Doctor shrugs, "cultural differences and all that. It's fine. Just keep going."

"Yes but-"

"Keep going!" they shout together, Donna gasping as a tight band of pain radiates down through her belly and into her upper thighs.

"Do…" the Reverend continues with a start, "do you Varian take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

The Doctor grins. "You bet I do," he says and Donna smiles and groans as he wipes the sweat from her face with his handkerchief.

"The rings?"

"Rings. Right," the Doctor blinks, rifling through his coat pockets and emerging with a pair of plain gold bands.

"Biodampers?" Donna gasps.

"Yeah, sorry," he says contritely, "Jack's got the real ones."

"Jack?"

"In New Vienna," the Doctor explains, "there's this little chapel… it doesn't really matter, but Jack and Martha and Mickey are waiting for us there."

"What, Martha and Mickey as well?" Donna gasps, her fingers splayed out across her tightly contracting belly.

"Why not," the Doctor says, raising her hands to his neck as he lifts her onto her toes, "we stood up for them at their wedding."

"If you're quite finished?" the Reverend Holiday say, flatly.

"Oh that's all right Vicar," the Doctor says mildly, "I know this bit." He takes Donna's hand in his. "With this ring, I thee wed," he says, gently sliding the gold band onto her trembling finger.

Donna's eyes fill with tears as the Doctor hands her the other ring and she shakily slides it onto his finger. "With this ring, I thee wed," she says, her voice choked with emotion.

She cries out as another contraction takes hold and something within her abruptly changes, her entire body trembling with the sudden overwhelming compulsion to take the tight clenching pain radiating downward through her belly and do something with it.

"Oh, oh my God," she gasps, her voice high pitched and panicked, her trembling hands scrabbling at the lapels of the Doctor's coat, "it's… it's… changed… I have to… I need to... push!"

"Then, by the power vested in me by the office of the Triumvirate Ministry of the Third Galactic Empire," the Reverend Holiday quickly babbles, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Donna's knees go suddenly weak and the Doctor sweeps her into his arms, brushing her lips with his as her body trembles urgently against him.

"I love you," he says softly, breaking into a sudden grin, "now let's have a baby."

The world seems to blur around her as the other passengers and staff burst into a flurry of activity. Someone drapes a clean sheet over the shallowly sloping Formica table that the Doctor pointed out earlier and Donna suddenly finds herself deposited onto it. Muriel Flemming holds her hand for moral support as the Doctor eases off her soggy pyjama bottoms and gently spreads her legs, wiping away some of the amniotic fluid dribbling between her trembling thighs with a thick white towel.

"All right Donna," he says, slipping on his glasses, his coat and suit jacket draped over the back of the paisley covered booth and his stethoscope dangling from his neck, just like a proper doctor. "You're fully dilated. When the next contraction starts, I need you to push!"

…...

It's not like in the movies. She doesn't start pushing and then 20 minutes later have a smiling baby in her arms. She's at it for hours, her arms trembling with the effort to hold herself upright as she pushes with all her might. Several passengers count off the seconds as the contractions build to a rolling peak of clenching pain before gradually subsiding, only to start again half a minute later.

In between contractions, she falls back against the table, panting with exhaustion as Muriel Flemming gives her crushed ice to suck on and wipes the sweat from her face with a cool cloth soaked in one of the pots of water Cavendish has brought out from the kitchen.

The Doctor presses his stethoscope to her labouring belly, keeping tabs on the baby's heartbeat and Donna's blood pressure with the blood pressure cuff from the medical kit. He repeatedly tells her they're both doing fine in that infuriatingly calm and soothing voice of his. Donna has the irresistible urge to slap him.

She doesn't feel as if she's doing fine at all. She's not even sure what she's doing is right. As she props herself up on violently trembling arms, another contraction cresting like a wave over her, she wonders if there's anything at all to this whole pushing thing.

At some point, the lights go out and the rest of the passengers faces disappear into the shadows as they crowd around the Doctor with their torches held before him. Donna doesn't even care about being exposed in front of them. Another contraction takes hold and her world diminishes to a single painful moment in which she can't remember a time when she wasn't here. When she wasn't in labour. When she wasn't pushing. When she wasn't in pain.

"That's it," she cries, falling back against the table, her hand covering her forehead as she begins to sob pitifully, "I can't do this anymore. If he won't come out, then let him stay in there. I'll try again tomorrow."

"Oh you can't give up now Dear," Muriel tells her, wiping away the tears rolling down her cheeks with cool water, "not when you're doing so well."

Donna screws her eyes shut, refusing to listen. She whimpers through the next contraction too exhausted to move. She hears the creak of metal as the Doctor stands up and knows he's leaning over her. His cool hand covering hers and gently withdrawing it from her face.

"Donna," he says softly, his face inches from hers.

"No," Donna sobs, refusing to open her eyes.

"Donna, look at me."

"No," she insists, if she looks him in the eyes, she'll only end up doing whatever he asks.

"Donna please."

Almost against her will, Donna's eyes open and lock with his. The Doctor flashes her a sympathetic smile, running a wet cloth over her sweaty face and smoothing her damp hair back from her forehead.

"I know you're tired," he says, very softly. Donna sobs raising her head slightly to lean against his, "I know it feels as if you've been doing this forever without getting anywhere, but I promise you, you are so close. Just a few minutes longer and he'll be here, but you have to keep going."

"I can't," Donna cries, whimpering through another contraction, her fingernails digging into the Doctor's bony shoulder.

"Yes, you can," he says, "you can do this Donna."

"You can do it Dear," Muriel says, squeezing Donna's hand, her eyes luminous in the shadowy darkness. The rest of the passengers adding their soft words of encouragement as well.

"No," she insists, pitifully.

The Doctor takes her face in both his hands, his warm brown eyes like ancient fountains that flow forever. "You can do this Donna," he says softly. "You can do anything."

Donna closes her eyes, sobbing through the tight bands of pain gripping her belly for a moment more before abruptly pulling herself together. "Okay," she says, nodding determinedly as she wipes the tears from her eyes with trembling hands, "okay."

He kisses her forehead as she struggles to raise herself up and winces slightly, her arms aching and sore from the prolonged strain.

"Nelson," the Doctor suddenly calls out to the boy mountain skulking across the aisle, "get over here and prop Donna up."

"Huh?"

The Doctor frowns, "Sit behind her and let her lean against you," he says, as if explaining to a very small child, "come on, come on, I haven't got all day you know."

Nelson's expression turns somewhat pained as a dozen or so narrow beams of torch light suddenly illuminate his face.

"I'm not gonna see anything gross am I?" he grumbles sourly.

The Doctor's eyes narrow slightly, "Nelson you do plan on getting married yourself one day? Having a family of your own?"

Nelson shrugs. "I guess," he says.

"Well, then stop being such a big girl's blouse about it and get over here!"

Muriel Flemming grins into her hand, "tough love," she murmurs so that only Donna can hear.

The boy rolls his luminous eyes and stomps over, his thick steel toed boots echoing softly against the curving walls of the compartment. He steps up onto the seat beside his grandmother, then climbs onto the table and takes a seat behind Donna. His wide chest supporting her back and his long legs framing hers as she squats on the table, his heavy boots dangling from the end.

"Okay Donna," the Doctor says, returning to his seat, "here we go. When the next contraction starts, I need you to push!"

So she does. She pushes through the exhaustion and the pain, through the rest of the passengers counting down the seconds and murmuring blithe words of encouragement to her as she strains, through Muriel Flemming gently squeezing her hand during each contraction and the Doctor's soft voice telling her she's nearly there and the tops of Nelson's smelly boots brushing her bare feet.

She pushes through it all until something inside her abruptly changes again and she can feel it happening. She can feel the baby moving inside her, down into her pelvis and beyond, as the contractions bleed together into one long stretching sensation she'd be powerless to stop even if she tried. She isn't even pushing anymore, her body is doing it all by itself, giving birth to a brand new life. She's just along for the ride.

"Oh my God," Donna gasps, overwhelmed by the sensations running through her.

"I can see the head," the Doctor cries excitedly, abruptly standing, "just one more push Donna, that's it!"

And the stretching turns to stinging and the stinging turns to burning and grows in intensity until it feels as if Donna is sat on the sun.

"Don't push, don't push," the Doctor suddenly cries and Donna gasps, blinking sweat as she glares at him.

"You're kidding right?"

"Just for a second," he says, "just breathe. He's got a big head and I don't want you to tear."

"Course' he's got a big head," Donna gasps, trembling with the effort to contain the sun's rays within her, "he's yours isn't he?"

The Doctor's mouth quirks slightly, narrow torch beams illuminating his pale face like a halo from beneath as the heat between her legs intensifies and Donna suddenly feels as if she is the sun, glowing with golden energy she can no longer contain.

"Okay Donna," he says, "one more push should do it."

She raises herself up, crying out as her body explodes in one final convulsive effort and suddenly he's there. Separate from her. Sliding into the Doctor's waiting hands, red and screaming and beautiful.

"Is he all right?" she gasps, falling back against Nelson's damp chest in utter exhaustion.

"He's perfect," the Doctor says, his voice cracking raggedly, "Ten fingers. Ten toes. Great big gob, just like his old man."

He's crying. Tears spilling from his eyes as the baby squirms indignantly in his arms, and Donna is as well. She's crying, because she's herself again and so much more now. Donna Noble. Citizen of Earth. Native of London. Temp from Chiswick. Wife and witness to an intergalactic space wanderer's life and mother of a beautiful son.

She watches the Doctor cut the cord and clean him up by torchlight, the rest of the passengers murmuring and cooing around him. He wraps the baby in clean linens and rocks him for a moment until he settles.

"Welcome to the universe Alexander," he murmurs thoughtfully, staring in wonder at the little face staring back at him with practically the same expression, before breaking into a sudden grin "you're gonna love it."

He blinks, swiping the tears from his eyes with his fingers. Leaning towards Donna and showering her flushed face with kisses. She laughs, caressing his stubble covered cheek for a moment before he carefully transfers Alexander into her arms, his forehead falling against hers as they both look at him. He's dark like the Doctor and gazing back at her with her own blue-green eyes.

"Look what we did," she murmurs in wonder, brushing his tiny cheek with the back of her hand, "we made a person."

"Yeah we did," the Doctor says, smiling proudly. Both of them chuckling when Alexander yawns hugely and closes his eyes, one right after the other.

Thick beams of white light stream in through the snow caked windows, bouncing off the curving walls and illuminating everyone inside to grey silhouettes.

"That'll be the rescue buses," Mr. Carson says, awkwardly clearing his throat when his voice cracks with emotion, "we'd best get out there and meet them." He nods at each of the young porters in turn, "Trent. Valentine."

The Doctor breaks away from her, cleaning her up by torchlight before the emergency personnel arrive. She feels something. An intense tightening pain that ends in a single convulsive thrust as her body expels the placenta. And just like that, she knows it's done. Her work is finished. The baby in her arms no longer living inside her body, but inside her heart. The Doctor palpates her belly, still swollen but empty now, and the profound sense of relief filling her is tempered with a touch of sadness at his loss.

He covers her half-naked body with a sheet then tells Nelson to shove off, taking his place behind Donna on the table. She leans into his chest, feeling as if she could sleep for a week, her eyes falling on the rings glinting softly on her finger by the light of a dozen or so roaming torch beams.

"Still falling Spaceman?" she asks softly, as his hand moves to clasp hers around the baby in her arms.

"Head over heels," he says simply.

Donna smiles slightly. "You'll be sure to let me know when you hit bottom," she says wryly.

"Oh anytime," the Doctor says, chuckling softly, "in the next fifty or sixty years."

Not his lifetime. But theirs. Together. Donna looks down at the slumbering baby in her arms, his tiny face translucent in the powerful white torch beams of the rescue personnel streaming onto the train, and smiles.

It's enough.

~END~