I don't own Doctor Who. Just a random idea, that hopefully is good.

She was going to die, and he didn't know how to stop this…and it was all his fault. No, he didn't know that there was flu outbreak there, and there shouldn't have been anyway that she could have gotten it. One hearted species didn't get the Linginon flu, and the Doctor suspected that it was because they couldn't survive it.

But that was his Donna, defying the impossible even if it was going to cost her her life. He changed the rag on her forehead replacing it with a fresh cool one but it was doing nothing to bring her fever down, neither was the best medicine he had for a Human. He had even tried stuff from too far in the future to really give her but that hadn't touched it at all.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, wiping back her damp hair.

It was at least the millionth time he had apologized but he would give anything if she would hold on for him to do it a million more times. If she would just hold on, if she could just do the impossible once again there wasn't anything that he wouldn't do for her.

Oh, it was safe to say he had fallen for this stubborn fiery woman, and no he hadn't told her, because he was too much of a coward. And now if he said, while she was in this fevered state she would think that he didn't mean it.

It had been two days since she had first started to show symptoms, showing hers faster than his had come about. He wiped the sweat from his brow, wishing that it meant his own fever was breaking but it didn't. It was just how his body was working through the illness.

His stomach rolled and he rose reluctantly, removing the hand from her chest that he had been keeping there because her breathing had become so shallow it scared him to death.

He went to Donna's bathroom and hugged the bowl, doing his stomachs bidding once again. At least he didn't have much in him for it to try to remove, and he washed his face and rinsed his mouth before hurrying back to Donna's side.

To his relief her eyes were open a little. They had made an agreement, her demanding and him not having the heart to argue, that if she could wake up, then he would take her to the bathroom and not put a catheter in her.

"'K," she managed in a whisper.

"Of course," he agreed moving to her, already capping her IV as he knew that she only woke when she needed to go to the bathroom.

"Go?"

"Yes," he nodded, fighting for a smile that would be a comfort. These periods of consciousness were short but she still managed to wake up. He suspected it was all her stubborn will, but it gave him hope.

He pulled her into his arms, feeling a weight difference from even a couple of days ago, and he fought tears. He wouldn't be weak in front of her.

After she finished he carried her back to her bed, and he could see that she was already fading. He held her up with one arm and reached for the nutrient shake that he had made up while she slept. She took a sip dutifully but that was all he could manage before her eyes fluttered shut again.

He moved her back down, and pulled the sheet back up over her, moving her cloth back to her head. He knew how bad this was, but he couldn't tell her even in her sleep. If she heard, if she knew what could be even if she did the impossible and survived, and it wasn't positive.

"Oh, Donna," he whispered, resting his too warm head on her cool sheets, hand on her chest to reassure him that she was still right there with him. "Please, don't leave me. I'm an old fool, you know that, but I need you."

He wished she would chuckle then and give him a hard time, but the room was silent. Maybe he was being selfish begging her to stay. If she made it then she was going to have a long fight ahead of her still.

He had run the numbers so to speak, in that he had taken the time to figure out how the illness would destroy a single heart species, and it had made him vomit and it had nothing to do with the flu that was coursing through him.

Paralysis was the main problem. He had to carry her now because she was too weak, but honestly she probably couldn't walk even if she wasn't. It was very likely that she might not ever walk again.

There might not ever be any more running for them, and if that was the case, he would take it as it came. He would live out the rest of his time with her, inside the TARDIS if that was what came.

He didn't care out the need to travel, or how hard it would be to 'settle down' he cared about being able to see her grumpy smile every morning. If he got to hear her call him spaceman he would never leave this place again if that was what it took.

She groaned, and he felt her chest rise and fall rapidly and he raised his head quickly. She had been having nightmares, brought on by the fever and she had given him permission to enter her head to sooth them, but only if nothing else worked.

"No," she croaked out. "Leave him alone!"

All lot of these nightmares seemed to be centered on him, but he knew that was probably because he had been there with her this whole time. Some part of her, even in the deepest sleep, was still there with him.

"Donna, love," he stroked her hair, his voice coming out less soothing then he would normally be able to muster. He was losing his voice but he couldn't have that. He needed to be able to speak to her. "Shhh, I'm here. You are safe, everything is okay now. I'll take care of you."

Her breathing didn't slow, and he knew that she would probably want him to try harder but she just didn't have the energy to spare on a nightmare so he touched her temples gently.

He stepped in, giving her mental self a quick smile and trying not to look around. He pushed the dream away from her, easily now, as he had done this several times an hour and then he left her with a feeling of peace, and retreated.

Looking down at her, he found her face had relaxed and he kissed her cheek softly. He moved to lay beside her on the bed, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He laid his hand back on her chest, making his mind hold on to the need to feel her breath and closed his eyes somewhat unwillingly.