Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The Doctor’s day started out the same as usual. He actually let himself fall asleep in his bedroom for the first time that week, something he was avoiding for reasons he couldn’t quite remember. A week as defined by Donna’s Earth standards, that is. It was, also according to her standards, around four hours. He could go more in-depth about the time, but there’s a reason he tries to avoid sleep. Thinking about the time asleep allows him to remember exactly what he dreamt about. That’s right, how could he forget? He must be more tired than he thought.

He slapped his face. Enough dreary thoughts, it was time to be! Wide! Awake!  The Doctor grabbed a slice of toast with half a jar of marmalade slathered on top from the kitchen and ate it as he sauntered down the corridor. He hadn’t intended to use that much, but he also didn’t stop himself. So, really, whose fault was it?

His, obviously. Not that he wanted to admit it. After all, he had a reputation to live up to. Being a destroyer of marmalade jars didn’t suit him. When you had a title like ‘Destroyer of Worlds’, why would he ever– For a second, he forcefully closed his eyes shut, but opened them completely relaxed right after, not entirely sure why he did. Yeah, definitely. After thinking about it, he could most certainly say that ‘Destroyer of Marmalade Jars’ did not fit his reputation.

As the Doctor continued down the hall, the TARDIS let out a high-pitched hum in agreement. Marmalade would not strike fear into the hearts of his enemies… not that many seemed to have hearts. He grimaced in what felt like pain for a microsecond before it disappeared. Right, maybe he shouldn’t be trying to live up to his reputation.

He dragged his hand along the wall and felt her warm up the areas around it. He quite liked this hand. It may not be a fighting hand, but it was the original, so it had that going for it.

His thoughts were met with a bored hum. “Oi! You try pulling favorites with three different hands.” Her hum lowered and the Doctor sighed. “One of them is in a jar. That one isn’t important in any way.” The mechanical apertures around him started to clank and groan. “Okay, fine. Which one is your favorite?”

The groaning halted. “Really? You choose that one? But that one’s my–”

“Doctor!” He stopped talking when he heard his name. Turning around, he saw Donna walking towards him.

“Good morning, Donna,” the Doctor said, rocking back and forth on his heels as he did. “How’re things?”

Donna grinned. “Oh, same as ever, Spaceman. Was intending on finding you in the console room, but finding you here works just as well.”

The Doctor shrugged and claimed, “Sorry that I’m not up to anything exciting at the moment.” Wasn’t he, though? His plan was to… Eh. It wasn’t important anyway.

“And neither am I. Fancy heading somewhere for a spot of breakfast?” she asked with wide eyes.

Now it was his turn to grin. “I thought you’d never ask.” Wait, why is she u- He shook his head to clear his thoughts. It was surprisingly refreshing to see Donna be enthusiastic before breakfast, especially so early in the morning.

The pair started down the hallway, the Doctor doing most of the talking. “I know that you’re not one for the whole morning jaunt thing, but you’ll love this. It’s this great little place just north of the Jukil star system. Well, I say north but it’s really three galaxies away. Technically still north, though, depending on your definition. But great food guaranteed.”

Donna nodded her head and plainly stated, almost monotone, “Let’s get going, Spaceman.”

He squinted at her, face set in a confused stare. Something was… A brief moment later, the Doctor recovered and gave a wide grin in return. “Then I say, let’s get out of here pronto.”

They got to the console room, the Doctor pulled the lever and

The Doctor’s day started out slightly different than usual. He was reworking the ion stabilizers to align in configuration with the Helmic Regulator when he was hit with a bout of exhaustion. All he needed to do was ignite the thrusters and see the reaction, but his body felt too slow to accomplish anything. The TARDIS hummed worriedly in his head. He tried to wave her off, tried telling her everything was fine. Unfortunately for him, lying was not a big specialty in this regeneration. Especially unfortunate is that lying to the symbiotic entity in your head was near impossible.

He pulled himself out from under the engine and onto the grates. It took two movements to get onto his feet and a third to replace the grating with his foot. Hands in pockets, he trudged off the platform. Three hallways in and two doors down is where he found his room – which was considerate of the TARDIS to place it so close to the console room. He usually enjoyed wandering over there, but the fatigue was really starting to set in.

The Doctor opened his door and mentally asked her to set the lights to a dim setting. The room lit up into an array of colors of blue and golden hues. Corals wove themselves in and around the ceilings and onto the furniture and floor. He threw his trench coat onto the bed and followed suit, landing with a dull ‘Thud’. The Doctor moved to his side and directed his gaze at the coat; he squished his features into one akin to confusion. He didn’t feel confused, though. It was just the exhaustion tricking his mind. Then why did he…?

He sighed. Laying down on his bed felt so good. It had been quite a long time since he was able to succumb to exhaustion on his own terms. Usually, at best, it was a healing coma in some dungeon somewhere. Donna had been all annoyed at him from the last one.

Just a little bit of sleep and he’ll get back to the repairs. The Doctor closed his eyes and instantly fell off.

He woke up with a crick in his neck. It was annoying, but not so much painful. He sat up to stretch his body and rub his neck. How long was he asleep? He thought for 0.032 seconds and determined it was around four hours. He must have really needed it, as he felt completely better – aside from his neck, that is.

The Doctor stretched his neck left and then right. To the right, he could see his reflection staring back at him from the mirror. His face looked too blurry and– Oh. He slept in his clothes. Looking down he realized how wrinkled they were. Donna wasn’t going to let him hear the end of it. He could almost hear her jibes now.

Might as well grab something to eat before returning to repairs. He left the room, the lights flickering off behind him, and ventured down the hallway towards the kitchen. He opened the fridge but found nothing to his liking. Unless Donna hid the marmalade jar from him. What a funny string of words: Marmalade jar. Jam jar. Jar jam. He moved Donna’s all-organic milk around and found it sitting in the back of the fridge.

The Doctor was tempted to scoop his fingers into the jar and eat it like that, but once again could only imagine Donna’s reaction. Reaching above the fridge, he opened the pantry door and grabbed a slice of bread out. Taking a knife out of the drawer, he slathered the bread and bit into it. It would have been great straight from the jar, but bread was good too. It’s too bad that his toaster was hit or miss these days; it was, by almost all definitions, essentially broken. He really needed to give it a tune up with the sonic screwdriver.

“Doctor?” He looked up and saw one Donna Noble peek her head into the kitchen.

He gave a toothy grin. “Good morning, Donna! You’re up extremely early.”

Donna gave him an annoyed look. “Really, Spaceman? I’ve been looking for you all morning.”

The Doctor considered this for a moment before waving his hand dismissively. “Well, you found me. Didn’t check the kitchen, I take it?”

“Haha very funny, Doctor. I checked all one thousand of your kitchens…”

“Definitely less than ten. Most likely,” the Doctor muttered.

“…but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

He took a bite out of his bread and spoke with some crumbs escaping his mouth, “Well, as I said, you found me. Up to anything fun this morning?”

Donna put her hands on her hips. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it?” Was there? What was it this time? “Not that the toast currently spewing out of your mouth is any indication,” Donna finished with slight disgust.

The Doctor looked at her oddly before swallowing and immediately laughed. Only Donna could cut him down and yet make him happy about it, something only best mates could do. He guessed she was a bit right about the toast and it would help if he didn’t speak with his mouth full. He brought up the toast to take another bite but couldn’t see any of the brown toast bits on top. The marmalade was covering everything up. What’s the fun of toast without any of the fun brown toast bits.

“So, Martian, where are we going today?”  

 “Martian? Donna, I’m not from Mars,” the Doctor said pretending to be annoyed and frowned at her. He thought he frowned more than he usually did. Must’ve caught him on a bad day. “But since you’re thinking about it, I know a great little place full of different cultures and market stalls. It’s on an asteroid!”

Donna cocked her head. “And what’s that called, then?”

The Doctor smiled widely and said excitedly, “The Asteroid!”

“Really?” Donna asked suspiciously. He could only reply with raised eyebrows atop his smile.

Together the pair laughed, and the Doctor attempted to finish his toast without choking. Donna grabbed his hand and pulled him to the console room. “Let’s get going, Spaceman.”

“You sure you’re ready, Donna? Might be a bumpy ride,” he said with a wink.

“Let’s get going, Spaceman.”

He steadied himself at the helm, ready to calibrate for any interference from the time vortex. “Let’s get going, then?” he asked with a smirk, pointing out her last remark.

She smiled gently and repeated in the same tone, “Let’s get going, Spaceman.”

He glanced over at her, his face changed to one of befuddlement. “Donna, why do you ke–”

But her smile was infectious, and he started bouncing on the balls of his feet. “One planetary body that isn’t a planet or a body coming right up!”

The Doctor pulled the lever and

The Doctor’s day started out completely different than usual. He had fallen asleep buried in the TARDIS mechanics while in the middle of reworking the ion stabilizers. His plan was to align them in configuration with the Helmic Regulator, but he must have dozed off before he could follow up with the testing. The testing itself would be easy. All he had to do was apply the sonic’s setting 83α to the internal coupling and enable the helical circuitry ignition. The Doctor didn’t realize how tired he was; exhaustion could creep up too easily if he wasn’t careful. A little catnap here and there typically worked, but sometimes he just got so busy. Or he was too intent on purposely distracting himself.

It was a bit weird to fall asleep in the midst of repairs, but he’s done weirder things. Or, as per Donna, he was the weird thing. The TARDIS hummed concernedly in his head. “I don’t know what you’re worried about,” the Doctor said as he started to sit up. “Everything is perfectly–” He couldn’t finish his sentence. The breath was taken completely out of him, and he could barely feel the mechanics all around him. There was this unbearable pain that suddenly appeared inside his head. It was like a raging tidal wave, sweeping everything in its path.

He brought his hands up to his head and pressed down as if that would ease the pain. He forcefully shut his eyes closed and grit his teeth. He couldn’t feel the base of the Helmic Regulator at his foot. He couldn’t hear the TARDIS innards initiate primary functions. He couldn’t hear her.

The pain was screaming. No, the TARDIS was screaming. Wait, no, he was screaming.

He collapsed onto his back in the same position he awoke in. The onslaught was continuous without end. It wasn’t dull or sharp or stabbing or burning; it was the pure concept of pain. Rassilon, how did this ever happ–

“–fine.” The Doctor stretched as much as he could in the cramped space. As much as he was close to finishing the repairs, he’d rather just take a quick nap and come back fresh. The TARDIS would appreciate that more. ‘Isn’t that right, old girl?’

The only response he heard was the same concern. “It’s okay, don’t worry. Just a bit tired is all,” he said aloud, patting her circuitry as he did. Her song did not change.

His body was wedged into a tight crevice that he would slowly have to navigate out of. He didn’t want to hurt himself, sure, but he also didn’t want to give her more reason to worry. He thought he heard her hum oscillate, but if it did, then it was for an almost unmeasurable amount of time. If he focused then he could measure it by comparing it to the timelines scattered around him, but it was exhausting to do so in a place like the TARDIS.

Since she fell into her own timescape, there was some semblance of an absolute time, he pondered to himself as he tucked his head under what appeared to be one of the dimensional stabilizers. Measuring a moment up to an absolute would be easier, yes, but you’d then have to unravel it from everything else. In the TARDIS, every bit of her being was compromised of both same and different moments of time. When comparing, say, the matrix to the outlying components, one could say they fall under the same time differential – that is to say, when analyzing them, he could ‘see’ similar sized fragments. That’s what time was, after all, an entity without form or features. It was less of ‘seeing’ and more of knowing.

The best he could explain the differential to someone like Donna would be with said fragments. Or a worm cut in half. Both halves, at that moment, are the same. But, and emphasis on this, they will eventually change and be completely separate from one another. One half will shrivel up and die. The other half will grow, move, explore, and eventually die in a different scenario. Perhaps from a bird. Or perhaps from some rain. 

The matrix to the outlying components were under the same time differential at certain points. However, if you stopped focusing on this for just one moment, then you could see the fragments rush around the console room, enlarge and shrink, dance and jump. They would mesh together, making it near impossible to remove them from being truly intertwined.

He could follow organic creatures’ timelines within the vicinity of the TARDIS quite easily, but that was because there was such a difference between the two that it was almost miniscule. That is to say, Donna is a speck of dust to the TARDIS being the entirety of the universe. It’s easier to use a microscope than a telescope sometimes.

The only exception to the rule is himself. That is due to several reasons, the most notable being that he is her pilot. The two have been paired for centuries – for far too many that he wants to admit to – and have adopted a relationship that no other Time Lord or time capsule has ever had.

Another major reason is the– was the Time War. That was something he could never explain to someone like Donna. What would he even say? One day you existed and the next you didn’t. But at the same time, you both always existed and never did. At one point, you existed but your past and future didn’t. At another, the opposite was true. Sometimes, rarely, this applied to everyone, and the battle would start again. Over, and over, and over.

It hurt to think about, to see the onslaught of memories dance around his mind, bursting in from his foveae. The Doctor could feel the cracks of the barely knit together timelines, tearing the few disassembled chronons/seconds/rels/units that he could/couldn’t grasp away from him; searing pain scorching his body, his head bent back in screams of agony as hot/cold/never liquid dropped down with him. Hands wet of torture and torment and orange-scarlet blood, but it wasn’t his – it was never his. It couldn’t be; they were gone and he was here. He was here.

The Doctor could feel the shards break off those timelines and crash into his being, converting each cell into another creature fighting the paradoxes. Planets destroyed and galaxies obliterated. He saw the fires rage, the skin peel off innocents caught in the teeth of the Nightmare Child, the Citadel col–

He was so taken by his ruminations, that he almost missed the golden streamer at the edge of his vision. It was above the grating, the location the Doctor was getting oh so near to. It was a miniscule flash and nothing more. Wasn’t it? He pushed it to the back of his mind and continued his trek up.

A group of tears rolled down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why.

One more minute adjustment, and the Doctor was able to climb out onto the grating. He fell down and rolled onto his back, legs still dangling in the hole. He was suddenly too exhausted to even think about moving. Is that what the TARDIS was worried about? Could she tell?

He let out a short laugh hoping it would both give him the strength to move and encourage her to stop worrying. Her song changed to one of layered enthusiasm. The more he laid there, however, the worse he felt. The exhaustion amplified unexpectedly, almost as if there was an elephant on his chest, and he let his body seize up for a microsecond or three or two.

The Doctor felt breathless, but his body maintained the same cardiac and respiratory rhythms as normal. He looked up at the ceiling, eyes circling coral indentations as he thought to her, ‘Guess you were right, like always.’ She brushed cool air onto his face in agreement. Closing his eyes briefly, he imagined a smug smirk.

Maybe a short nap here wouldn’t hurt him. It would annoy the TARDIS, sure, and ultimately whatever body parts get lodged in her joints, but he didn’t think he could move.

He sensed her flare up in his mind and felt the relocation of his room to the doorway leading out of the console room. The Doctor closed his eyes again and let a relaxed smile creep onto his lips. She always knew exactly what to do. The smugness rebounded and intensified.

The imagery changed to questioning, and then onto confusion. The Doctor had yet to move from the position for several minutes. After more pushing, he finally acquiesced. ‘Okay, fine, I’ll get up.’

He opened his eyes and brought the console into his line of sight. The Doctor maneuvered his hands and pushed himself back to a prone position. His body was lacking the normal, vibrant energy he usually feigned. He gathered some strength and pushed it into his knees. Gradually, and very slowly, the Doctor managed to attain a kneeling position before at last staggering to a standing one.

“See?” he coughed out, not surprised at this point by his near inability to move his body, let alone his mouth. There went his gift of gab… and his glass jaw. “I’m perfectly fine,” he lied outright, spluttering. Based on the low hum in his head and the high pitched one around him, she wasn’t buying it. Oh well, it’s always been impossible to lie to her, anyway. Worth a shot.

The Doctor watched his trench coat sway on its railing as he mimicked it, swaying leftward on his feet before finding some form of orientation with the room. The world froze until he swirled around, almost losing his balance as he did. With one heavy step after another, the Doctor started the forlorn task of reaching the doorway. He wanted to close his eyes and let the floor take him, but every time that thought crossed his head, the TARDIS got extremely agitated.

Eventually he reached the door and shot out his right hand to grab the handle. It bounced off the metal, and onto the floor. Wait no, not the floor but the… With what he interpreted as a mechanical sigh, the TARDIS triggered the motion sensors and the door opened.

He quite liked the door handle. It made Ian and Barbara so much happier when he installed them throughout the ship. The Doctor never could bring himself to disable the default settings, however, especially seeing as they reminded him of a home long gone. He never used them, but she made a habit of using them when he was out of commission and was the only one who had say in the matter.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he muttered, but shuffled inside without further complaint.

She raised the lights to a dim setting at his mental request and let the door close silently behind him. The dark orange background that danced across the walls dispersed into a constant silver color, matching the silver patterned floor he was standing on. Above, golden corals wove themselves in and out of the ceiling like glittering serpents. They cascaded to the floor where they jumped back up and twisted around the furniture.

The Doctor moved towards the center of the room and sat roughly on his bed. While the room had changed over the years – each fitting with the current regeneration at the time – the colors and lighting never did. As much as he hated thinking about it, and where his thoughts would tread right after, the Doctor could never manage to get rid of the few remnants of home he kept tucked away from his companions. This incarnation appreciated the minimal appearance, with the room only sporting a bed, wardrobe, workbench, and large vanity table – don’t let Donna ever hear that last part. His seventh self was the exact opposite; the man had a large plush reading chair aligned near the center of the room. And don’t even get him started on his sixth self.

He shirked off his trench coat and tossed it on the floor. The Doctor did the same with his suit jacket before falling back onto the bed with a dull ‘Thud’. With the spare energy left, he rolled onto his side and looked at the clothes.

He squinted at the almost-but-certainly-not-the-definition-of-a pile. The whole scenario looked… off. He was too tired. No, he could tell there was something not quite right. But he was, also, too exhausted for words. Then why was his tren–

While it was somewhat common in this regeneration to throw clothes about, he typically picked them up almost immediately after. Today, he just felt like he couldn’t be bothered. They’d be there in the morning, and he could get them then. Throwing clothes about near permanently was more of a companion thing. Rose, for instance, left things lying all over the TARDIS. She could’ve learned a lesson from Leela. Well, Leela could have learned a lesson from Rose. Leather loincloths can only get you so far in life. She never took the Doctor up on a permanent, and more acceptable, style change.

The Doctor closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking of the past. The TARDIS helped by intensifying her song. Images of stagnant icebergs and exhaustion bounced across his eyelids. He agreed. His feelings were mutual.

He listened to her breathe through the walls and almost instantaneously fell asleep.

The Doctor woke up, later, with a crick in his neck. If he was being honest, he would describe it as being slightly painful. He maneuvered himself onto his back and pulled himself up into a sitting position. Aside from the neck, he felt perfectly refreshed and bright eyed.

While stretching his neck from side to side, he looked internally to assess the time he was out. After 0.32 seconds, he determined that it had been about four hours. His thoughts turned to the TARDIS who became chipper once he was awake and reported nothing unusual in the past four hours. She knew he would want his morning news before officially starting his day.

He let out a yawn and ambled to the vanity. His face looked awfully blurry today. The Doctor blinked repeatedly and moved closer. Why was there a– Yup, everything was fine.

There was one issue he noted with a grimace, however. He looked down and realized in his daze that he’d forgotten to change his clothes. His red undershirt was ruffled, his tie’s knot was coming undone, and his blue pinstriped trousers looked crumpled. His poor suit.

The Doctor started to finish undoing his tie as he walked over to the wardrobe. Out of the varied selection of clothes he owned, today would be a brown ensemble. All he needed to do was figure out which trainers. Wait, where were his from las–

After a quick trip to the adjoining loo and a complete change in clothes, the Doctor felt ready to start the day. He made one last pass at the vanity and was disturbed to find that he almost left without fixing his hair. It was currently dangling down his forehead with no volume holding it up. He opened the top drawer and grabbed his last bottle of Venusian Hair Gel: ‘Guaranteed results if you’re not bald!’ The Doctor spent a few minutes twisting his hair into its proper configuration before giving his reflection a goofy grin and starting down the corridor.

He strolled through the corridor with the TARDIS chiming in here and there about her thoughts of the previous night. Neither of them completely agreed with each other on the whole ‘night/day’ time scheme, but they would agree every once in a while. Like today, they agreed it was now morning. Donna would be up soon and claiming it was morning anyway. Or she’d throw a pillow at his head while shouting about mornings.

The Doctor shook his head. What had he been talking about? Oh, right! “And I still think you need those thermal couplings remodeled.” The TARDIS made a disapproving warble. “It would make you feel happier!” The Doctor made a face at her response. “What do you mean you can only be so happy?”

He poked his head into the kitchen and, seeing how there was no Donna present, made a beeline for the fridge. There was most certainly marmalade calling his name without the eyes of a usually present, and very judgmental, Donna Noble.

He pulled open the doors and was quite disappointed to find an apparent lack of marmalade. The Doctor knew Donna and the TARDIS were hiding it from him based on the laughter that rang in the back of his head.

The Doctor started moving groceries around in search. Most of the groceries were from Donna’s repeated Tesco trips since she claimed the Doctor cannot be trusted in terms of human foods. He didn’t know where she got that idea. After being around humans for so many centuries, he’s gotten quite the palate for their food. For instance, he’s taken Donna to 2148 Italy for his favorite interpretation of piccata di pollo. In a way he was glad – she was one of the first in a long time to look past the human façade and see the ‘alien’ side.

“Ah hah!” the Doctor exclaimed. He dragged a bag of carrots off the poor, unsuspecting marmalade jar. “Why you two choose to hide it from me I will never understand.”

Grasping the jar with his left hand, he used his right to unscrew the unopened cap. It wouldn’t be unopened if the accessibility and judgementality were different. He was extremely tempted to scoop marmalade out of the jar with his fingers and eat it in that manner, but thoughts of Donna made him stop. Funny how a lot of those odd habits stopped when she was around. In no way was he scared of her. Yup, most certainly not.

The Doctor reached above into the pantry and snatched the bag of bread. It was the most recent brand Donna had picked up; something artisan or other. As he opened the bag, he reached into the kitchen drawer and brought out a knife. Together they formed the trifecta of jam, bread, and utensil.

The only thing that would enhance the experience, the Doctor thought to himself as he spread the jam over the bread, would be if he could toast it. The crispy outside paired with the correct jam:bread ratio would be so much better. If only he hadn’t thrown the toaster into the mouth of that creature on Heravax. It was a large price to pay for it to not swallow the TARDIS.

She hummed happily in his head, reassuring him that the choice was the correct one. Her tone was one that insinuated this was an uncommon occurrence, but he chose to ignore this. She had the high ground, but the marmalade spread was still his. It’s at times like these he’s certain she must be extraordinarily jealous of his ability to taste.

Halfway through his second mouthful, he heard footsteps gradually increase in sound. Based on the acoustic vibration of the off and on stomps, the size of the harmonic wavelength, and the fact that there was only one other humanoid on board, he instantly knew it was Donna Noble.

The Doctor cleared his throat in an exaggerated manner. Moments later, Donna walked into the kitchen with a very clear ‘Why do I put up with you?’ look. “Doctor,” she began.

“Donna!” the Doctor quickly interjected, not exactly ready for a rant so soon after he woke up. “What are you doing up so early?”

Donna’s look morphed into an ‘Are you an idiot?’ look. She moved her hands up and down her body.

“Er, nice pajamas.”

“Doctor. Isn’t it a bit too early to be making a racket that resounds around the place?”

The Doctor stared blankly ahead. Making a racket? Since when was he mak– “Oh, right! Sorry about that Donna. Just me taking care of some resonate maintenance.”

“Resonate?”

“Yup. The opposite of dampened maintenance.”

Donna looked like she was going to push the matter further, and him as well. Instead she responded, “You. Are bonkers.”

The Doctor gave a toothy grin and replied gleefully, “Why yes I am.”

“Well, could you try to keep it down? Some of us are trying to get their beauty sleep.”

Fully knowing the situation he was putting himself in, the Doctor decided to quip, “And some of us definitely need it.”

Donna took the opened bag of bread and threw it at his head, nearly dislodging the piece from his hand. “Donnnnna,” he whined. “You almost hit my bread.”

Donna laughed heartily. “It’s just some little toast, Doctor. Easy enough to make again.”

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed and mouth tightened for one second before quickly rebounding back into his bright appearance. “Exactly right, Donna. Still hurts though.”

“Physically? No. Emotionally? Extremely,” Donna tacked on.

Letting himself join in her laugh, he added, “Now go get your beauty sleep before you hurt my feelings anymore.” He crossed his arms as much as he could without marmalade getting on his suit jacket.

“Well, I’m already up.” Donna raised her hands up in surrender. “Might as well join you on whatever adventure you’re about to get up to.”

“Adventure?” The Doctor laughed again. “I wouldn’t call maintenance an adventure.”

“Then let’s go somewhere fun!” Donna said in a singsong voice.

He gave her a weird look. “Since when do you…?” he shook his head. “Okay, fine. Maintenance can wait.” The Doctor winked. “I guess one trip can’t hurt and –”

“One adventure,” Donna interrupted

“Fine, one adventure without running for our lives,” he amended.

“Now, that’s the kind of enthusiasm I’m looking for.”

Donna grasped his free hand and dragged him towards the console room. She was chatting the entire way there. “I expect the following: no death, no destruction, no diets, no dirt, no…”

The Doctor was impressed. He usually got stuck on ‘c’ in the alphabet.

“…murdering your own planet, no octopi, no–”

He stopped in his tracks, toast hovering in a paused state outside his mouth. “Donna,” he said slowly. “What did you just say?”

Donna’s face shifted into one of unease and she dropped his hand. “Are you okay, Doctor?”

“No. What did you say?” He tried to school his face into a neutral one, but he could feel the anger emanating through.

 “All I said was no nurturing unknown plants,” she replied apprehensively.

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head quicker than normal. What was he thinking? Donna would never use that against him. So why did he think she said that? Why is she looki– “And right you are, Donna! I promise not to nurture unknown plants and get poisoned,” the Doctor stated seriously with his right hand raised.

She punched his arm and continued down the hall. “Well, c’mon then. Time waits for no one.” She paused in thought. “Or does it wait for you? Nah, ‘course not.” She started walking down the hall again once more. “Let’s get going, Spaceman!”

The Doctor stayed behind and finished his last bite of toast. For some reason, he wasn’t hungry anymore. He didn’t want to waste one bite, though. He couldn’t tell if the feeling of upset he had was due to the food or Donna or…

He poked at the TARDIS resting comfortably in the back of his head. ‘Did you hear that?’ In response, she gave the impression of shrugged shoulders.

He sighed and sauntered after Donna, hands in his pockets. If she didn’t know, then maybe he really was going crazy. It would explain the weird day he’s been hav–

The Doctor reached the console room and threw his arms out to his sides. It’s been a great day so far, and he’s got his best mate by his side to finish it with. Good night’s rest, perfect marmalade jam:toast ratio, and listening to the extensive list of Donna’s which will most certainly be broken immediately. Signs of an exciting day ahead.

In fact, he’d go as far as to say it was signs of a perfect day ahead.

He clutched the newly rewired Helmic Regulator, turned some other random knobs – some of which used to be necessary, but now that he and the girl were so close, he kind of felt they weren’t needed anymore – flicked on the temporal controllers, and set the coordinates to just the perfect place.

“You ready then, Donna? After attacking my poor toast, the old girl might feel vindictive in my stead.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Let’s get going Spaceman!”

He straightened up, his hands obediently poised in their perfected positions above the console. Just one more lever until he would start the initiation sequence.

The Doctor twisted his head towards Donna and grinned the widest he had all day. Choosing the perfect destination was just icing on the cake of this perfect morning.

She returned the grin with a crooked smile. “Let’s get going, Spaceman.”

After all, everything is perfectly fine.

The Doctor pulled the lever and