I'm taking a venture into Doctor Who again! YAY! But this one won't be as "happy" as my other two. In fact, this one should be darn depressing. … well, enjoy! Dedicated to my dear sister, who I hope won't hate me!

Summary: "And it didn't matter that her last moments would be quick, yet torturous agony in the arms of this man, her Spaceman. What mattered was that she wasn't dying a faceless nobody. She was dying as Donna Noble … best temp in Chiswick."

Best Temp In Chiswick

"Donna."

This name, this word on the ragged breath of a horrified man, was the first thing she was aware of other than the mind-numbing pain. The second was the sensation of falling, as her knees buckled and she collapsed on the concrete floor. Above her, the sky was midnight blue, cold without the warming presence of the sun.

I'll never see the sun again, she realized, as she heard, miles away, the familiar thump of Converse on stone as he ran towards her, This is it.

"Donna," came that voice again—it didn't sound like a real voice, but one far away, on the television screen maybe, like a buzz in the background that usually you pay no attention to.

"Donna, stay with me. Can you hear me? God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry … "

His trademark, she smiled to herself, before correcting,Our trademark now, DoctorDonna.

It hadn't taken much to trip her memory, had it? All she had to see was his face–his handsome, young face contorted in shock, those old, sad eyes widened to the point of popping out—and, just like that, the mind wipe gave way to the tidal wave of knowledge, power, memory that would eventually have overwhelmed her. I was dying anyway, Doctor, she thought, It was killing me, Doctor, slowly.

And even though she should hate him (had every right to hate him, dumb Martian that he is), she found herself unable to do anything but love the man as he gathered her up in his arms and rocked her.

"Don't take it away," she whispered, and she knew he heard her, "Hear me, Spaceman? Don't take it away."

The tears in his eyes spilt over, staining his face and dripping onto hers, and she didn't even have the strength to lift her arm and wipe them away. She gasped for air, and pressed herself closer to his skinny body as she began to shiver, as cold as the night above her. He rested his chin on top of her head, and his breath came out shakily.

"Donna Noble," he breathes, his eyes closing as he presses his lips to her forehead, "You're brilliant."

And you know what?

She damn well is.

And it didn't matter that her last moments would be quick, yet torturous agony in the arms of this man, her Spaceman. What mattered was that she wasn't dying a faceless nobody. She was dying as Donna Noble; savior of the Universe, most important woman in creation, singer of otherworldly songs.

And the best temp in Chiswick, of course.

Then, all thought exploded in a cacophony of fire and ice, radiating throughout her entire body as the toxic presence inside her head destroyed itself and her.

And for a minute, as Donna Noble released her final breath, and smiled her final smile …

For a minute, the world stopped.

My own "Donna remembers" story. Probably not good enough to make anyone cry … but hopefully, realistic? Yes; no; maybe so? I'd love some feedback!

Oh, and the ending was crap. Sorry. :D

Please review!

P.S. To See You On Broadway. – Please don't hate the story, and bare in mind that someday, I do want kids. :) –hides from wrath—