"Has anyone ever told you that you have a saving people complex?" Donna asked, peering around what she could only suppose was the control center of the TARDIS, at where the Doctor was peering under some panel.

"No," he said.

"Really? I don't believe it. Never, in all your traveling with – whoever, no one has ever said anything about a saving people complex?"

"No, never. Can you – that thing, on your left, looks like a doorknob? Press it down, right about…now."

Donna pressed. "Well, you do."

"I do what?"

"Have a saving people complex."

"Thanks." There was a brief silence, and then the Doctor's head popped up from under the panel and stared at Donna. "What does that mean, anyway? –keep pressing."

"What for?"

"To keep your hands busy. No – no! I was joking. Press it." The Doctor paused, and straightened, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "And what do you mean, anyway, what's a saving people complex and what's it have to do with me?"

"A complex," Donna said, "About saving people. Obviously."

"What," the Doctor said, crossing his arms. "Is that a bad thing now?"

"Yes, when you just about get yourself killed doing it." Donna pauses, and adds, "And me, besides." She looked at him, frowning slightly.

"It's not my fault trouble follows me. Are you still pressing? Good- you still make it sound like a bad thing. Call it a hobby."

"A hobby?"

"Everyone's got one, don't they?" The Doctor peered back under the panel, sounding faintly distracted. "Keeps me busy, keeps me out of trouble – well, the other trouble, you know."

"Is there another trouble," Donna said slowly, and not very patiently, "That you haven't run into?"

"Probably somewhere! Don't you think? Ah, there – almost got it, keep pressing."

Donna shifted and leaned her elbow on the doorknob-thing, frowning. "You really need a new hobby, Spaceman."

His head popped up again, his own frowny-face on. Donna reflected that this one looked a little silly. "I do not. It's a perfectly good hobby. Besides, someone has to keep an eye on your people – human people, I mean. I've put a lot of work into you and I'm not letting it go to waste."

"All right," Donna allowed, "The Earth, I'm fine with. Obviously. But what about all the others? All the other planets you've told me about where stuff goes wrong?"

"Are you suggesting I just leave them? They're important too – vitally important, some of them, you'll need them later on – everything's important! And they all have their problems and I'm the Doctor, that's what I do. Fix problems."

Donna stared. "And fixing problems just happens to put you and whoever you're with in mortal danger most of the time."

"Well," the Doctor objected, "If it gets really bad I usually send you – companion you, I mean, whoever it is – off." He frowned. "Not that it always works…"

Donna took her hand off the doorknob and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "Let me get this straight. When you're in really serious danger, you just take off on your own, without anyone to keep an eye on you."

"Sounds about right. Are you holding that down?"

"Yeah," Donna lied. "Are you serious. And you think this is – okay?"

"Well, I can't just have you people wandering into mortal danger, like you said, getting killed – no, course not. I'm significantly harder to kill. Unsinkable." He looked up, expression wide eyed and almost innocent. "It's for your own good." Pause. "You are not pressing."

"More important, Spaceman. So if you're about to go get yourself killed, I'm just going to get sent off somewhere?"

"Probably, yes."

"Then it's a damn good thing," Donna said tightly, "That it doesn't work, because you are not allowed to do that to me! You need someone, you said it yourself-"

"Not always. You people, you always try to – sacrifice yourselves, and it only gets you in trouble-"

"So that's not all right, but it's okay for you to go gallivanting off into danger and sacrifice yourself? Who saves the planets then, huh? Sometimes I think you almost try to get yourself in life or death scenarios where you can – save people at risk of serious bodily harm to yourself!"

Donna took a deep breath and realized that the Doctor was staring at her.

"Are you calling me suicidal?" The Doctor had now, Donna observed, crossed his arms and is frowning at her with an expression she can only call indignant.

"No!" she says automatically, and then corrects that. "Yes. Maybe? I'm just saying-"

"I am not," the Doctor says, sounding even more indignant, as if that were possible, "suicidal. Just because I find myself in places where there is trouble and I can help-"

"By putting yourself in mortal danger-"

"That's incidental! I don't like it!"

"Don't you, though?" Donna stepped forward, and poked the Doctor squarely in the chest. "I've seen you. You light up like a Christmas tree when these things happen! You love it!"

"And humans love skydiving. No one calls them suicidal."

"If it's not true," Donna said, raising her eyebrows at him, "What are you so cranky about it for?"

"Wouldn't you be?" He glanced down, and accused, "And you're still not pressing."

Donna slapped her hand down on the doorknob and glared at him, her infuriating alien. "I just think that you sometimes might undervalue your own survival, and I'd like you to know that you are kind of important."

"I know that. What does that have to do with anything?"

"We need you around," Donna said, more quietly. "Us – people. Planets. Humans. Even if no one knows it." She narrowed her eyes, and jabbed him in the chest again. "So don't you go – being an idiot. You can't save everyone."

"Trust me," said the Doctor, and his voice had dropped suddenly, "I know."

Donna hesitated, but the long silence rapidly became too long, and she broke it. "Is this about – your planet? You couldn't save them so you have to save everyone else?"

He glanced at her, something faintly withering in his stare. "When did you get into psychiatry?"

"I took a class in university. Well, is it?"

There was another long silence. Then: "No," the Doctor said lightly. "Nothing to do with it. Like I said, it's just a hobby. Things come up, I fix them. I'm the Doctor. That's what I do."

Donna sighed. "Yep," she said, ruefully. "Saving people complex. Right there."

The Doctor scowled, but it didn't look terribly sincere. "That's enough out of you."

"Just one thing, though," Donna said. "You should know that you're not getting rid of me. Mortal danger, I'm right there. You are not sending me home, Spaceman. Promise?"

"So, where do you want to go next?"

"Doctor, promise. No sending me off."

"No," he said, blithely. "What do you think about Ancient Greece? See the Parthenon intact. And painted. Greeks loved their colors."

"Stop that," Donna said, peevishly. "I'll only come back!"

He looked over his shoulder and grinned. "I know," he said, sounding almost affectionate. "That's why I'm not making any promises."