That glorious red hair draped casually over one shoulder, a look of uncertainty on her face, grasping a Sainsbury's bag in each hand. And her eyes – though she was smiling, there was still that desperate sadness in her eyes, that searching sadness, a restlessness, a need.

He'd only ever seen peace in her eyes once, after she had saved the universe, when she was flying the Tardis, preparing to travel forever with him, finally seeing herself as she had always been to him – his equal.

She looked at him, staring at her, then frowned and peered round him to Sarah Jane, who'd just spilt coffee all over herself.

"Are you OK?" asked, grabbing a bundle of napkins from the table and swabbing the coffee from Sarah Jane's coat with them. The Doctor almost collided with her, then stood back, and looked at her.

Now he could see her in what was supposed to be her home, he could see she didn't fit. She tried so hard. She wore the right clothes and said the right things, and did all the expected things and laughed louder than anyone else and gossiped madly – but she never fitted in. She was always the outsider, always just that touch different, indefinably different – and she knew it. Even now, watching her talk to Sarah Jane, there was an awkwardness about her, a feeling that she was trying too hard, babbling away to block out the emptiness in mind, the space where her real life should be.

"Napkins."

"What?" he asked, waking suddenly from his reverie. Donna was looking right at him, with that look she always used when she thought he was being a bit thick.

"We need more napkins." she said, slowly, as if speaking to a child – a not very bright child. "To mop up the coffee?"

"Oh, right – yes..."

He ran back into the coffee shop, grabbed the napkins, and stopped, all of a sudden, staring at her. Donna. She was right there, right in front of him. Donna, who saved him from fire and water. Donna, listening to the songs the Ood sang of her. Donna, being kind to a dead girl in the library. Donna, kissing him in front of Agatha Christie. Demanding Donna. Difficult Donna. Loud Donna. Gentle Donna. Supporting Donna. Glorious, wonderful Donna.

He'd missed her.

He hadn't come back because of guilt, or worry. He hadn't come back to check she was alright. He'd come back because there was a huge space in his life where she had once been, and he suspected no-one else could ever quite fill it.

He ran back outside and gave her the napkins.

"Thanks." she said. She handed them to Sarah Jane, and stood up to face him. There was Donna, shouting at the world again to hide the little voice inside, telling her she was worthless. He wanted to tell her that she wasn't. That she'd saved the universe. That she'd saved him, and Rose and everyone he loved. That she was brilliant. That he hadn't realised how much he needed her till she was gone, and he was an idiot, and he needed her to tell him that.

Instead he just said,

"Hello."

"Hello." she said, looking slightly puzzled. "I'm Donna." she said, holding out her hand.

"Yes, yes you are." he sad, suddenly grinning.

"That's when you introduce yourself – after my bit." she told him.

"Oh right – yes. I'm the D.."

"He's John Smith." Sarah Jane said suddenly. She looked up at him, meaning very clear in her eyes. Donna couldn't know him as the Doctor. Not ever. It might trigger a memory. Just a spark. One single neuron firing. Barely anything. But that might trigger another spark, and that spark would lead to a flash, and, perhaps slowly, perhaps all of a sudden, she remember who she really was, that wonderful life would come flooding back, for one brief, glorious moment– and then she'd die.

No, not her. Not Donna. He would never risk that. Not matter how much he wanted her back. And he did want her back. He wanted her laughing at him. He wanted her refusing to fall in love with him. He wanted to see her excitement again, and her wonder. He wanted her to argue with him. He wanted to see her put her hands on her hips and refuse to move until he'd done exactly what she wanted. He wanted to hear her call him an idiot, or a prawn, or a skinny streak of nothing, or whatever new insult she'd come up with that day.

He wanted the DoctorDonna.

"You don't say much, do you?" she said, laughing a little.

"He's shy." Sarah Jane said, biting back a laugh.

"Really? He doesn't look like a shy boy." Donna said, teasingly, poking him and turning back to Sarah Jane. He rammed his hands in his pocket and grinned at her. Perhaps he could do this. As long as he kept away from all tales of space and time and aliens, he could talk to her. Make her laugh. Get teased by her. Tell her she was brilliant. Discuss where the bees had gone. Give her a hug, hold her hand. Travel with her.

"Haven't we met?" she asked, suddenly frowning, and all those fantasies of being this Donna's friend crumbled into dust.

"No..no, we.." he glanced at Sarah Jane.

"Yeah, at my mum's house – when I slept through the whole planet thing." she said. "You were there when I woke up. Typical me." she said, turning to Sarah Jane. "Most exciting thing that happens to the entire planet, and I sleep through the whole thing. What am I like?"

He stepped back. It was too close. He'd got too close. He'd tried to reach out for the impossible – again – and almost destroyed someone he loved – again.

"What were you doing there?" she said, turning round quickly to him again. "You're not one of mum's or granddad's friend's, I know them all. So who are you really?"

He looked down into her green eyes – and recognised the look he saw there. In the back of her mind, her clever brain was spinning, putting facts together, seeing things he had never seen, jumping to the truth – again.

"I was just a lost traveller. They took me in for the night. Thats all. That's all, Donna." he reiterated, forcing the facts into her mind. But still .... still there was a question in her eyes. He sighed. Why couldn't she do as she was told, just this once?

"Time to go." Sarah Jane, seeing the Doctor floundering and torn, took charge. "Come on, Donna, these trousers are spoilt. And you know what that means? Shopping."

They left, Donna turning back to say good bye, Sarah Jane pausing only to kiss him on the cheek, and whisper 'don't worry, your family will take care of her.'.

"Bye Sarah Jane." he called after them. "Bye Donna. Nice to meet you!"

She glanced back and waved, and as she looked at him, she hesitated, for just a moment. Just long enough for a brief flicker of doubt to cross her mind, for her to turn to him slightly. For a moment, he thought she remembered.

But then Sarah Jane pulled her away, with a warning glance to the Doctor.

He watched them go, until he could no longer see Donna's red hair. Then he walked back to the Tardis, alone. He had to get used to the idea. There was no more DoctorDonna, only the Doctor.

He was getting too human, when the thought of never seeing someone again hurt so much.

Sarah Jane had gone home ages ago. Martha was stuck in New York. Micky was in a desperate situation he wasn't getting out of any time soon. And Torchwood had just suffered a catastrophic power failure, wiping out all their CCTV coverage.

Donna walked home through the back streets of Chiswick, still clutching her Sainsbury's bags, planning what to have for tea. Maybe fish fingers – probably should have the burgers, they'd probably have thawed by now. And all the time she was ignoring the tiny little niggling in the back of her mind. In fact, she was concentrating so hard on ignoring it, she failed to notice the handsome young man standing in front of her until she bumped hard into him.

"Sorry mate, totally my fault, wasn't paying attention, in a little world of my own." she said, stooping down to pick up the shopping. He bent down to help her.

"I'd bet you'd prefer a great big world of your own, Donna Noble" he told her. She looked up sharply.

"You what?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry, I'm being rude." He stood up, and held a hand out for her. She took it, and stood up, facing him, still holding onto his hand. "Let me introduce myself. I've had many names, but lately I've been known as Harold Saxon. You, however, can call me, The Master"

THE END.