"You seem to be drifting, Sweetheart," Wilf said, sounding worried.

Donna heard him. Yet, her attention remained trained on the starry sky. She was remembering that bizarre Christmas so long ago with the barmy spaceman and his magical, blue box.

In her memories, his deep, brown eyes glinted with the promise of boundless adventures far beyond her wildest dreams. Slowly, his lips curved into a sly smile daring her to take his outstretched hand. She hadn't. Instead, she asked,

'Will I ever see you again?'

A suggestive grin accompanied his reply:

'Only if I'm lucky...'

Donna wanted to both cry and laugh. She compromised, letting her lips curve into a huge smile. She hated to admit it, but her grandfather was partially right.

"I'm not drifting," she told him, drawing in a deep breath before meeting her grandfather's worried gaze. "I'm waiting."

Wilf's brow furrowed. "What for?"

"The right man," she answered openly, still grinning. Her heart skipped a few beats as the image of the spaceman with the blue box took her hand in his. She dared to hope that he was still out there somewhere, perhaps waiting for her too.