Their time in the nineties was coming to a close. The Doctor stood by the TARDIS's console, pressing buttons and switching dials, waiting for Donna to arrive so that they could just leave.
He couldn't tell her, she'd be too mad. They hadn't exactly been stuck there … he'd sort of planned a trip to this decade and ended up wanting to stay a little longer than planned.
He knew Rose would be there. He just knew it. Only he hadn't counted on her being so hard to find …
He couldn't help it that he wanted to see her. He missed her so, so much and anything was better than nothing. Still, he couldn't have spent too much time with her otherwise she would recognise him when she saw him regenerate.
At least until his next regeneration …
And he was glad he gave her that advice. He'd always admired how much she embraced the running aspect of their adventures. He didn't care what the Gallifreyans thought; intervening in fixed events couldn't be all bad.