Disclaimer: How I wish I owned them! Anyway, I don't; they're the property of the BBC.


The door closes on Donna's grandfather, hopping around far below in his red woolly hat.

"Does he sell papers?" the Doctor asks, as Donna turns from the doors.

"The Standard, on a weekend and holidays," she says. "Why?"

"Oh." He rubs his nose. "Just "

She seems not to be listening to the answer anyway, instead looking around her at the console room. "So, Martian boy, is this it?"

The Doctor follows her gaze. "No. Oh. A room. We'll find you a room."

He sets the TARDIS to hover in the Vortex, picks up two of her bags - and why are there so many, anyway? - and leads the way out of the console room. Given the luggage, he rather hopes the TARDIS has allocated Donna a room that is close, at least for now.

And there it is, just two corridors down; a door standing open. It's very different from the rooms the ship gave Rose, or Martha. This room is calmer, more sophisticated -and has a large walk-in wardrobe ready for Donna's things. The Doctor dumps his load, runs a hand through his hair, and turns to Donna.

"All right?"

"It's perfect," Donna says. "I mean it, it's perfect." She eyes him suspiciously. "How d'you do that?"

"I don't. The TARDIS does. Want to see the rest?"

She throws her ridiculous hat box on the bed - double, dark green cover - and nods. "Yeah. How big is this thing, anyway?"

"First things first," says the Doctor, waving a finger in her face, "my TARDIS isn't a thing. She's sentient." Off her look, he rephrases. "She's alive. And, she's unique. This isn't any old time ship."

Donna, for some reason, looks horrified. "Alive? I'm standing in something that's alive?"

"Oy!" The Doctor gives her his best 'annoyed' look. "Stop having a go at her. You don't want to get on the wrong side of the TARDIS, anyway; she'll move your room up ten flights of stairs if you're not careful. So, here we are, in my wonderful ship." He pats the wall, in passing, and heads out of Donna's room. "Kitchen. Somewhere."

It turns out to be close by. Donna inspects the stove and the toaster and the kettle and turns on the tap.

"All seems a bit normal, really."

"Expected something more high-tech?" the Doctor asks.

"Yeah, I did, really."

He shrugs. "Most of my the people who travel with me, mostly they're human, so it's best to keep things simple. Anyway, you can't beat a good toaster. Or toast. Good invention, toast."

She opens the cupboards and then the fridge. There doesn't seem to be much in either, something she remarks on. The Doctor pulls at his ear and tries to remember the last time he had eaten. It seems to be quite a long time ago.

"I've been meaning to stop by Tesco," he says, although he hasn't really, and he rather thinks Donna can see that. "S'all right, we'll make food the first stop. Right. This way!"

He leads her out of the incriminating kitchen. The wardrobe turns out to be behind the next door, and it seems the TARDIS has been rearranging a little because the clothes - and hats, and shoes - closest at hand are all in Donna's size. The rack with his old things on is against the opposite wall; cricket whites tidily pressed, scarf looped over a hanger, cravats on a tie-rack, leather jacket at the end of the rail. He goes and adds an extra loop to the scarf while Donna exclaims over the Victorian dresses and late 30th-century kimonos.

"This is why you didn't need those bags," he points out, as they leave the wardrobe.

Donna, for once, is rather silent as he takes her on a whistle-stop tour of bathrooms, the library, the garden, and the swimming pool. Somehow he succeeds in opening all the right doors; he rather thinks the TARDIS is in a cooperative mood and has steered him away from all the rooms he cannot bear to empty. At least Martha cleared most of her belongings out, quietly, before she said goodbye.

He touches the phone in his pocket and hopes she's okay.

"I need a cup of tea," Donna says, as they leave the pool behind, so he leads her back to the kitchen, where there does prove to be tea, milk and sugar. She makes tea for both of them, and sits down at the table with her mug. The Doctor adds five spoons of sugar to his and leans against the counter to drink it.

"You all right?" he asks, after swallowing a quarter of the tea in one gulp.

"Yeah," she says, and lifts her chin. "Yeah, I'm great."

"Bit overwhelmed?"

Donna nods. "Yeah. I'd got used to the bigger on the inside bit. Didn't realise it was going to be so bloody big."

"Still want to come?" he asks, prepared for her to ask to be taken home.

She sips tea. "What, are you asking me if I want to go home? Because your TARDIS is a bit on the large side?" The Doctor takes refuge in his mug. "You gotta be dreaming. I've not spent the last year looking for you only to get scared off by a spaceship. Timeship. TARDIS. Whatever."

"Good." He drains his tea. "That's the spirit."

"All the same," says Donna, finishing her own drink, "It's bloody freezing in here."

The Doctor puts his mug in the sink, takes hers and adds it. "I'll get the temperature turned up. And then - off we go! Ready?"

Donna gets up. "Oh yeah," she says. "Ready for anything."