Look, an ending! And some smut. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

DWDWDWDW

Donna cried for a long time, and it left her feeling empty, drained and much lighter than before. Her body and mind were spent and she could think clearly again. The Doctor, noticing her change in mood jumped to his feet.

"Right-ho, Donna Noble, come with me!" he exclaimed in an almost normal tone of voice. But he didn't reach for her hand.

Donna just looked at him.

"Where to, Spaceman? 'M not exactly dressed for company, am I?"

The Doctor shrugged, and his smile became wider. (A little too wide, Donna thought suspiciously.)

"Don't need to be, it's just around the corner." He made a grand gesture towards the kitchen door.

Grumbling, Donna got to her feet and followed the Doctor out the door, noting the fact that he was careful to keep a respectful distance between them. He opened a second door (just around the corner, of course) and Donna entered a bright room with white walls and the smell of disinfectant hit her nostrils. The med bay.

The Doctor pointed her to an examination table and Donna bit her lip, hesitating. While she understood the Doctor's need to fix everything and everyone he came across (Bloody Martian Hero Complex), she knew how bad he would feel about her injuries, knowing that he was the one who caused them. And truly, they weren't that bad…

The Doctor came up to her, still not touching her. His face was gentle, all traces of despair and anger gone.

"Donna. Let me fix you? Please?" He tried to meet her eyes but she looked away, ashamed.

"It's not that bad, 's gonna heal up in no time anyway," she mumbled.

Infinitely slowly, the Doctor raised a hand to her cheek and stroked it lightly with two fingers, once and twice.

"I just don't want you to be in pain. Please Donna?"

How could she refuse him when he used all the power of the Non-Googly Eyes on her. He tried to lead her to the examination table but she shrugged him off.

"Oi, I'm not some damsel who can't walk without a guide."

His lips twitched and he let her pass with a sweeping bow, all angles and long limbs.

From the bow, he went directly to picking up various whatits and doodas and thing…thingies from the shelves and counters around the room, working at a speed far above mortal. Within a minute or two, he deposited all the thingamabobs beside her on the table.

She felt slightly vulnerable, legs dangling and so poked him in the ribs.

"Better not be planning any nasty shots for me," she mock-growled.

"Oh… No! Not at all! But…" the Doctor said in a distracted tone, looking a bit flustered. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck.

"Well…."He tried again, drawing the word out.

"What?"

"I kind of… need you to…. takeyourclothesoff so I can see what I'm dealing with." He spluttered the sentence out, like a schoolboy asking a crush to a dance.

Ordinarily, Donna would have teased him about being a 900-year old alien who couldn't even begin to think about talking about anything related to sex, instead behaving like a upset chicken. But not today. Not after yesterday.

Suddenly, Donna felt the ghost of strong arms pinning her down and she shuddered. She wasn't even sure if she wanted him to touch her at all, to be honest. Surely this wasn't that important.

"Doctor, look, let's just forget about it, all right? I don't need any healing."

The Doctor's head lifted and he studied her intently, as if she was a space-roach from Jupiter or something equally ludicrous.

He didn't speak for a few minutes, just looked at her, and Donna wriggled uncomfortably on the examination bed.

"Please? I just want to help."

Donna steeled herself, then chucked her shirt and trousers quickly, before she had a chance to reflect on the fact that she was going to be naked in front of the Doctor for the second time in the space of a day.

She could hear him inhale sharply when her bruises came into sharp relief in the harsh med bay light.

With the gentlest of hands, and without meeting her eyes, he cleaned the places where teeth had broken skin, before using a dermal regenerator to heal the bruises and cuts. Another machine, smaller and letting out a red light, eased the soreness between her legs. He kept his face almost completely turned away from her during that part.

Donna did her best to let him work; trying to keep her flinches and moans to a minimum. The ones she couldn't contain caused him to wince in return.

When he was done, the Doctor stepped away from her and abruptly, without warning, he kneeled down in front of her, hands resting palms up on his thighs, his body and face tense.

"Donna. I am so, so sorry. I don't think I can ever explain to you how sorry I am. I don't know how to make it up to you."

He bowed his head slightly, and his brown eyes disappeared from view, shielded by his dark lashes.

It was a gesture of submissiveness, of most humble apology; something ritualistic about it and it touched Donna to the core. Without thinking, she too slid to the floor, her pose matching his, their knees touching.

She leaned towards him and rested a hand lightly on his knee.

"You are forgiven," Donna said, her voice ringing out like a benediction in the silent med bay. Even the TARDIS's hum seemed quieter, as if the time machine was holding her breath.

The Doctor too leaned forward, placing one of his hands on Donna's leg. He closed his eyes, and it was no effort to rest her forehead against his, savoring the sounds of his breathing. His skin was cool against hers, and the air from his lungs fanning her face was strangely intimate.

She opened her eyes, which had closed of their own volition and blue eyes met wide brown.

Bright red spots lit his high cheekbones.

He made a moment to pull away and get up and Donna lifted her hand, gently placing it on his cheek in a mirror of his gesture earlier.

The Doctor's head fell forward, as if all strength had left him. Using a little more pressure, Donna titled his face upwards, forcing him to look at her.

His expression was a mixture of fear and anticipation, and Donna could sense his terror of rejection, lurking just behind.

She was suddenly utterly calm, more certain of this and herself than she had ever been in her entire life. It was as if she could see the entirety of time and space, every choice and every potential consequence, and it gave her complete reassurance.

Donna pressed her lips to the Doctor's.

Unlike the last miserable time, he responded immediately, but gently, oh so gentle. Like a rose petal on the wind their mouths moved against each other for long minutes.

Then it was too much and their mouths opened, tongues and teeth clashing, devouring. His taste was like nothing she had ever tasted. He tasted like opening the TARDIS doors for the first time, endless and infinite and exciting and frightening.

Donna entwined her hands in his hair, tugging at it and he moaned into her mouth, seemingly unable to stop himself. As they continue to explore each other, Donna couldn't keep herself from caressing the line of his jaw, his sharp collarbone, a bony hip.

Somehow, she rid him of his many layers of clothing, all while he remained passive. His mouth was busy on hers, but he made no other moves to touch her. As her fingers stroked his erection and he arched towards her, Donna took his hand in her empty one, and put it on her breast. Instantly, he began to rub circles around her nipples through the fabric of her bra, making her strain against his clever digits.

His mouth left hers, travelling along the curves of her body down to close around a nipple, then the other. All the while her fingers continued to explore his erection, finding a sensitive spot, testing the sharpness of her nails and tugging until he gasped.

By mutual consent, they didn't even move of the floor. It seemed natural for the Doctor to lean back on his elbows, allowing Donna to straddle him. He helped out by thrusting up and both their eyes rolled back into their head.

The coupling was as frantic as the day before, but it was a give-and-take, freely given by both. They didn't speak except in moans, gasps and later, cries. Donna would only remember it in sharp flashes of memory: the way his neck muscles strained when he threw his head back in ecstasy, the bite of his fingers into her hip bones, his lips on her ear lobe… And their entwined hands as they reached the peak, him soon after her.

Their hands stayed tangled together as they lay panting on the floor, recovering. It was a long time before either of them let go. They dozed and the sweat dried on their bodies. When the Doctor licked it off her later, the taste was a perfect mix of him and her.