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The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors, he knew for the final time. He was dying. He had died many times before, of course, but he always had another life to keep him going just a bit longer. Even when his younger self, a floppy-haired idiot with a dicky-bow and an obsession with hats, had grown old and frail, the Time Lords had restored his twelve regenerations. There were no Time Lords to save him this time.
He inhaled deeply. Wood smoke, from a fireplace perhaps, and biscuits. The old home in Chiswick smelled like Christmas, and snowflakes swirled about and caught in the Doctor’s hair.
He had to say goodbye to her. One last time. He’d said farewell to every other companion once before, when he was younger, even younger than Chinny, and now it was time to do it all again. It had taken much longer this time, with nearly six thousand years’ worth of friends and the occasional lover to bid say goodbye to, but he had saved the best for last.
His chest twinged, and he knew it was one of his hearts beginning to falter. Was it excitement… or was he nearly dead?
“Just a bit longer,” he whispered. “Come on, leftie, keep going just a bit more.”
The Doctor made his way up the path and knocked on the door. It took a moment before a young woman answered. She had red hair tied back in a dishevelled ponytail and creamy skin. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she clutched a tissue.
“Yes?” she said. “Can I help you?”
“Donna Noble lives here, yes?”
The woman swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah, she does. Who are you?”
The Doctor hesitated. “John. John Smith. Just… an old friend.”
“You’d best come in. She’s upstairs, but… be quiet. She’s sleeping.” The woman held out her arm, gesturing for the Doctor to come inside.
He stepped over the threshold, tucking his coat tighter around him and trying to ignore the irregular beat of his ‘leftie’. Not much longer now, he thought. Then you can let go.
The house was silent, except for the pair’s footfalls on the carpet. The woman gave a small sniff, and the Doctor turned his head to look at her. “Are you her daughter?”
“Yes. Jenny Temple. When did you know Mum? She never talked about you when we were younger.”
Jenny… The Doctor smiled to himself. After all this time, she was still holding on.
“Oh, no. Probably not. We were mates a while back. Your mum’s – what – ninety now? We must have spoken about fifty-five years ago. Our parting was… difficult, to say the least.”
Jenny didn’t answer, and instead led him up the stairs. Now they could hear hushed voices.
“That sounds like two people.”
“I wonder who was at the door.”
Jenny turned at the top of the stairs and pushed open the first door. The Doctor followed, his hearts racing. This was it. He could see her again.
Several people sat in around a bed. Tucked under blankets, propped up on a mountain of pillows, was an old woman. She seemed to be sleeping.
“Hello, Donna,” the Doctor whispered, coming closer and leaning down beside her.
The old woman stirred, giving a soft groan as she shifted. She murmured something about lottery tickets and her eyes fluttered open. She focused on the Doctor.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
The Doctor smiled. Even as an old woman, Donna still had a sharp tongue. “Just an old friend. Your best mate, actually.”
“But I’ve never seen you before.”
“Oh, you have… but it was nearly sixty years ago. I’ve changed a bit since then.” He smiled, then reached out to take Donna’s hand.
She flinched, but didn’t say anything as the Doctor’s fingers curled around hers. Her breath caught in the back of her throat.
Oi, watch it Spaceman!
Is that what Time Lords do? Lop off a bit, grow another one? You’re like worms!
Oi, watch it Earth Girl!
Oi!
But I can’t die! I’ve got a future! With the Doctor!
A tear slipped down Donna’s cheek. Only twice had the Doctor seen her cry, and the last was when he wiped her memory of every trace of his existence.
“I was gonna be with you,” she murmured. “Forever.”
The Doctor nodded, a sad smile tugging at his mouth. “I know, Earth Girl.”
“Mum! You’ve gone pale!” cried Jenny. She rushed to Donna’s side and pressed a hand to her mother’s forehead. “You’re burning up!”
“Quite literally,” the Doctor said quietly, too quietly for anyone but Donna to hear. But only she needed to know.
Memories flashed in his mind of Donna. Much younger, when her hair shone like threads of golden sunlight and her green eyes glittered like the ocean. Laughing and smiling and slapping the Doctor.
“My Spaceman,” she whispered.
“My Earth girl,” he replied, then leaned down to press his lips to her forehead.
Her eyes closed and she exhaled a final huff of air.
His Earth girl.