April in my Arms Pt II

[shaggydogstail]

'Of all the stupid, idiotic, reckless, irresponsible things that man's ever done, I think this might just about take the biscuit.' Sarah Jane's made a trip to the Hub to see Jack and Martha, and the drive down from London's given her plenty of time to work on her indignation. 'All the time he spent faffing about with that Chameleon thing - '

'Arch,' supplies Martha.

'Chameleon Arch. You'd think he could've found a way to make himself sterile,' continues Sarah Jane. 'Or at least less of an imbecile.'

'Yeah, he never was much good as a human,' mutters Martha. 'So, how does Donna feel about it?'

'Oh, she's delighted apparently,' says Sarah Jane. 'A bit worried that it's all a bit soon, but why shouldn't she be happy? As far as she knows she's having a baby with a nice man with steady job and no apparent social defects. They're out flat-hunting together today! And did I mention they're engaged?'

'Do we know if it's safe for Donna to continue the pregnancy?' Jack's looking at Martha, but she just shakes her head gloomily.

'No idea,' she says. 'The Doctor said the Chameleon Arch rewrites DNA, but when he did it before he kept remembering being the Doctor in his dreams.'

'He does that now,' says Sarah Jane. 'I think. He never tells me exactly what the dreams are about.'

'Tom says Donna has them as well.' Martha takes a few deep breaths, trying to organise her thoughts. Nothing in her medical training has prepared her for this. 'OK, the Chameleon Arch makes a Time Lord human, but it obviously doesn't completely change him, or he wouldn't have the dreams. Donna's not supposed to remember anything about the Doctor in case it unlocks the Time Lord consciousness that she got because of the metacrisis, which means it's still a part of her. I'm not gonna pretend to understand the science behind any of it, but it's possible that they're both, on some level, part Time Lord.'

'So, Donna's baby might not be human?' asks Jack slowly. 'Is there any way we can find out before it kills her?'

'Not for certain,' says Martha. 'If I can examine Donna then I can give her an amnio or CVS to check for genetic abnormalities in the foetus. Even if it seems OK, though, the Doctor artificially restructured his own DNA - I really don't know how that might affect his child before it's born, after birth, ten years down the line, if and when we open the fobwatch and the Doctor gets his consciousness back... anything.'

'I take it that means we can't just wake him up and get him to sort his own mess out,' says Sarah Jane. 'Great.'

'It might be in Donna's best interests if you just terminated the pregnancy,' suggests Jack.

'No, I can't,' says Martha. 'I won't. It's not fair for me to make that choice for Donna.'

'It's not fair to leave her happily knitting booties until she pulls a full Sigourney Weaver either,' says Jack.

Martha lets out a long, frustrated sigh. 'I'll set myself up as an obstetrician - get Tom to recommend me to Donna. At least that way I can keep an eye on her. If anything looks wrong I'll... well, I'll think of something to tell her.'

'Sounds like a plan,' says Jack. 'Sarah Jane, have you heard anything from Donna's family?'

'They're frantic with worry,' says Sarah Jane. 'I'll tell them what's happening - they might feel a bit better if they know Donna's getting the best care we can find.'

'Speaking of which, any chance I could cadge a lift back to London?' asks Martha. 'I could do with swinging by Maternity at the Free Royal, see if I can borrow a few textbooks from one of the consultants.'

'I'd love the company,' says Sarah Jane, smiling. 'We can draw lots on which of us gets to slap the Doctor first if we ever get him back.'

'Aw, ladies, leaving me all alone?' Jack opens his arms, affecting an expression of mock indignation. 'Don't tell me I've got to go down to the cells and try to cheer up Squidward by myself.'

'Finally found a species that isn't susceptible to your charms?' teases Sarah Jane. 'Well well, Captain, wonders will never cease.'

'If you get bored, you could also take Ianto,' says Martha as she joins Sarah Jane on the lift. 'He's probably the only one who hasn't caught the floorshow yet.'

#

Martha smiles at Donna in that kindly, reassuring way that doctors do when they think you might drop dead at any moment but don't like to mention it. 'Everything seems fine, Miss Noble, but I'd like to book you in for some further tests. An ultrasound, obviously, and it's standard to offer women over thirty-five a - '

' - can we not bring my age into this, thanks,' Donna interrupts her. 'Cause we both know that's got nothing to do with it - what you really wanna know is whether that extra foetal heartbeat you detected when you were poking about my belly means I'm having twins or ready to give birth to Spaceboy Junior.'

'Miss Noble?'

'Martha.'

'I don't think I told you my first name.'

'No, you didn't,' agrees Donna. 'The Doctor already told me before we met.'

Fair's fair; Martha copes with the revelation pretty well. 'How long have you known?'

'Since about eight o'clock this morning,' says Donna. 'I have to say, the back of the number 94 bus isn't the best place to realise that you've had your memory wiped, there's an alien mind lurking in your brain and another growing in your uterus, and that your terribly sweet gardener boyfriend is actually a bloody Martian. Still, inconvenient timing is the least of my worries right now.'

'Are you... are you all right?' Martha asks tentatively. 'The metacrisis - the Doctor said it could...'

'Kill me,' Donna finishes for her. 'Yeah, and it still might. My little alien embryo here is a bit of a double-edged sword; it's got enough Time Lord DNA - well, it's actually Gallifreyan DNA, but there'll be time for the technicalities later - to act as my own personal alien alarm clock, and it's made short work of all the barbed wire and "Do Not Disturb" signs the Doctor put up in my head. Which should be giving me terminal brain melt any time now, but I can also draw on that same genetic material to stabilise the additional consciousness triggered by the metacrisis. Temporarily, at least, but it might just be long enough to figure out something a bit more long-term.'

'How long have you got?'

'A few hours,' says Donna, 'a couple of days, tops. Know where I can find any handy alien spare parts to experiment with?'

'The TARDIS is in the Hub,' says Martha. 'I'll take you there. And there's other stuff, alien technology, we think we found some Time Lord device but we couldn't work out how to use it.'

'I'll take a look,' says Donna. 'What about UNIT - they keep any of the Doctor's old lab stuff?'

'I'll ring some of my contacts on the way down to Cardiff,' says Martha. 'Donna, what about the Doctor? He should be here for this.'

'Not unless he wants to get his scrawny spaceboy arse kicked into the next galaxy,' says Donna. 'No, it's my body, my life, and my baby: I'll take care of this.'

'Are you sure?'

'Course.' Donna forces a smile. 'Sides, I've got his mind, haven't I?' She taps the side of her head. 'Don't need him running around and causing more bother when you've got me.'

#

Jack's waiting for them in the Tourist Information Centre when they reach the Hub, with Mickey, Gwen, and Ianto gathered around him. They all stare at Donna with a mixture of fascination and fear, and Jack holds out something small and square, presenting it to Donna with the air of a schoolboy showing off his model spacerocket to mum and dad.

'This came through the Rift,' he tells Donna. 'Mickey found it - I don't know if it's any use to you, but I thought you'd wanna take a look.'

The excitable schoolboy air was entirely appropriate: 'This?' says Donna, barely glancing at the box. 'This is kids' stuff; a required project for Dimensional Engineering 101 at the Academy. Where's my TARDIS?'

Jack looks like he's about to argue, but apparently thinks better of it. Good. She hasn't got time for this. He shoves the Boy's Box of Relative Dimensions into Ianto's hands and gestures towards the door. 'This way.'

She hears it the moment the door opens. She couldn't before - the Hub must have some sort of telepathy shield, a sign perhaps that Torchwood aren't quite as stupid as they seem - but now it rings out loud and clear, stopping Donna in her tracks. The song, an ancient song, full of loneliness and despair, a lullaby of infinite sadness. For just a moment Donna can hardly breathe for the emotion welling up inside her, overcome by the music of sorrow, a lament for the forsaken, for broken hearts, for isolation, and for loss.

Chin up and determined, Donna composes herself, striding through the bizarre, rabbit warren-like bunker of the Hub with speed and determination. The song envelopes her, calling her on, and she lets the tears that blur her vision fall; they won't stop her, and neither will Captain Innuendo's chattered protests and questions. She stops only when she reaches a small room full of cells, cold, dank, putrid with the stench of sewers. Donna ignores the snarling beasts in overalls behind perspex walls, heading straight for the solitary figure in the last cell.

'Doctor-Donna-friend.'

The music changes: a note of hope amongst the symphony of sadness.

'What have you done?' Donna turns to Jack, furious. He's slightly breathless from following her, all indignation and blustered innocence.

'We didn't do anything,' he protests. 'That creature just showed up out of nowhere - must've fallen through the Rift. We found him washed up on the banks of the Taff just outside town. We probably saved his life. You think we keep him here for fun? We've tried to help, but except that he's telepathic and in pain, we got nothing.'

Donna nods. She's still angry, but Jack's probably telling the truth, and there'll be time to argue about the living conditions Torchwood keeps its "guests" under later - if she survives. For now, she turns back to the Ood and offers the tiniest smile. 'Tell me.'

The Ood can't speak - he has his own brain, not the monstrous communication ball welded on by Ood Operations, and he's weak, so terribly weak he's barely alive. But Donna can hear his song, and he sings to her, sings about the recovery of the stolen Ood from beyond the Ood-Sphere after Donna and the Doctor left, the anger of the slave-owners, and the war, a terrible war waged by the Second Great and Bountiful Human Empire against the Ood and their allies. The Ood-Sphere survived, but only just. Many Ood perished, and their brain is dying, the collective consciousness of the Ood fatally wounded by repeated telepathic flares broadcast against them in the war. Donna listens in silence, and when she's heard it all she wipes her face and presses a hand to the cell door.

'Let me help,' she says, and the song changes again. The lilt of hope in the tune strengthens her resolve. 'Release him,' she tells Jack. 'I'm taking him home.'

'Donna, that's great, really, but can't it wait?' asks Jack. 'I promise, you can come back here and save all the aliens you like once we've figured out a way of keeping your brain from exploding.'

'Just do it,' Donna tells him. She hasn't the patience to explain herself.

'But - '

' - Listen here, Captain Methos, I'm taking this one home right now. I'm gonna save the Ood, save myself, and I'm not gonna stand here yakking about it. Capiche?'

'Yes, ma'am.' Jack salutes Donna as he speaks, and she decides to ignore the hint of sarcasm because he's at least doing what he's told.

'C'mon,' she says to the Ood, touching his arm lightly. 'Let's get you home.'

'I'll come with you.'

Donna turns around, surprised. Martha stands near the entrance to the cells, the rest of the Torchwood crew crammed behind her.

'No ta,' says Donna. 'I don't need any of you lot.'

'You're still my patient,' says Martha. 'You could get hurt. I promise I wouldn't get in the way or try to interfere; I'll just be there if you need me.'

It makes sense. 'OK,' agrees Donna. 'Thank you.'

#

The Ood-Sphere looks just as Donna remembers it, all ice and snow as far as the eye can see, a winter world of endless white. This time though, the song carried by the wind, the ice, and the snow isn't the anthem of freedom and friendship Donna heard before, or even the lament of servitude and isolation the Doctor shared with her; it's a funeral dirge, the swansong of a dying world. As she trudges through the snow, she hears the song broken by calls from the Ood: Doctor-Donna. Friend.

Dozens of Ood, maybe all that are left, come out to greet them, leading Donna, Martha, and the nameless lost Ood from Earth to where the former Ood Operations warehouse still stands. The mind of the Ood is there, looking just as Donna remembers it, but she can feel how weak it is, the consciousness slipping away. She can feel the fear of the Ood too, the terrible fear of falling into something between death and insanity. Donna stops, shudders, tries to shake that feeling from her. It's too familiar; the Doctor coming towards her, arms outstretched, and her begging no, no, don't do it, all the while knowing there was no escape.

'Are you OK?' Martha's hand is on Donna's shoulder, a gentle reassurance. 'Can I help?'

'Yeah,' says Donna. She knows what she has to do now. Well, she's got an idea. 'Have a look round all these cupboards, gather up whatever electrical cabling you can find - clamps, connectors, even rolls of wire. I'll be over there, checking out the generator.'

'Right, gotcha.' True to her word, Martha doesn't stop to ask questions.

Donna works quickly, with help from Martha and the Ood. She can still feel their collective misery, but other than that, she's fine. It's bizarre though, feeling the Doctor's mind inside her own, giving her the knowledge and understanding she needs. Exhilarating too, oh yeah: she's firing on all cylinders, a certified genius and scientific whizz. Could've done with a bit of this back when she was staring blankly at her O-Level Physics paper. Still, she doesn't need spaceboy's superbrain to show her the irony of the situation, relying on the same Time Lord consciousness that may yet kill her to get it out. No time to dwell on that now though.

She doesn't take long, and in a little over half-an-hour Donna's standing proudly over a jerry-rigged contraption of probes and wires. It looks good - messy, but effective. It should work. She thinks it will. Hopes.

'What is it?' asks Martha.

Donna attaches a pair of makeshift electrodes to her head - counterparts to the larger versions she already fixed to the Ood brain - before answering. 'It's basically... electric shock therapy. I zap myself, zap the Ood brain, the Time Lord consciousness pops out of my mind and into The Brain here, giving it just the kick start it needs to get going. Despite the Doctor's over-inflated opinion of himself, even his super alien clever-clogs can't overpower a Hive Mind, but it should be enough for the Ood brain to repair itself.'

'And you?' says Martha. 'Will you be safe?'

'Course I will,' lies Donna breezily. 'Better than ever, once I've got old skinny-knickers out of my head.'

'Maybe we should get him back,' says Martha, obviously having second thoughts. 'Not to interfere just... get a second opinion? I don't want you to get hurt.'

'I won't, it's fine,' insists Donna. 'And we don't need the Doctor, cause I've already got him upstairs, haven't I?'

Martha nods. 'OK. If you're sure.'

'I am, says Donna. 'Except... yeah, you might need to call him. To get home, 'cause I won't be able to fly the TARDIS after, will I? Oh, and I might be unconscious. Just for a bit. Don't worry just... take me home.'

There's little doubt that Martha can see through Donna's bravado, but she's kind enough to let it pass. She doesn't argue, just steps forward and hugs Donna tightly. 'Good luck.'

'Thanks.' Donna's throat's too tight to say any more. She double-checks the electrodes, runs through her calculations in her head, and gives the generator a brief once-over. Her hands are shaking as she clicks the timer - she couldn't ask Martha to flick the switch - and waits. Ten seconds. Donna closes her eyes and focuses on the Ood song, reaching out to them with her mind.

Nothing, not even the memory of being zapped by Davros or the Doctor invading her mind, could prepare her for the agony of the electrical shock hitting her body. She feels like her brain is burning, every inch of her on fire. The pain is excruciating but mercifully brief.

She slips out of consciousness, and everything goes black.

#

'Hey.'

Donna blinks, turning her head away from the light above her as she tries to get her bearings. She's alive; she feels like absolute shit, but she's alive and that's something to be very, very pleased about. And she remembers - she remembers travelling with the Doctor, what really happened to Lance, John Smith, and revisiting the Ood-Sphere. She doesn't - can't - remember the square root of pi, the speed of light, or the major exports of planets in the Belgrove System. The Doctor's gone from her head, and it's just her, just Donna, lying on her old bed in the TARDIS with Martha looking over her.

'Hi.' Her voice is croaky, and she accepts gratefully the glass of water Martha gives her.

'How're you feeling?' asks Martha.

'Like I've been hit by about a million volts,' says Donna. She manages to sit up with some difficulty. 'God, my head's banging.'

Martha smiles at her. 'You're going to be fine,' she says. 'Just take it easy - after what you've been through you've more than earnt a rest - but there's nothing to worry about.'

'Thanks,' says Donna weakly. She places a tentative hand over her abdomen. 'Is it - did it...?'

'It's fine,' says Martha. 'I could hardly believe it myself, but there's no sign of damage. Hearts beating, everything.'

'Good,' says Donna. 'That's good.' She can't quite decide yet if she believes that or not.

There's a long silence before Martha speaks again. 'We're in Cardiff, by the way. I called Jack and asked him to fetch the Doctor. He called the TARDIS back.'

Hearing the Doctor's name makes Donna's stomach twist uncomfortably, and she's quietly confident that Martha notices her wincing. 'Where is he?'

'Outside,' says Martha. 'He's desperate to see you, but I told him he couldn't come in until you were ready.'

'Might as well get it over with,' says Donna grimly. 'Send him in.'

Martha leans over and hugs Donna goodbye. 'You need anything, anything at all, you just call me, OK?'

'Thanks,' says Donna. 'I owe you one.'

The Doctor must've been quite literally out in the corridor, because the door's barely closed behind Martha, and he's bounding in, all stupid great grins and crazy hair.

'Donna!' he shouts. 'Donna, you're awake! And all - you're all you again. Fantastic.' The Doctor's sitting on the edge of Donna's bed, and he's pointing that blasted screwdriver at her before she manages to bat his hand away. 'Martha told me what you did - that's brilliant, that is, that plan with the Ood. Worked like a charm by the way, I popped forward a couple of centuries while you were asleep just to check. They think you're even more of a hero than ever now. Brilliant. Didn't I always tell you you were brilliant, Donna, didn't I always say?'

'Doctor,' says Donna, 'I've not got the strength to punch you in the face right now, so will you please shut the fuck up?'

'Right, OK, yes, good, shutting up now.' The Doctor can't even stop talking quietly. And he's still fidgeting. 'Can I get you anything? Food, drink, copy of Heat magazine?'

'Just... ' Donna closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose. She's so terribly tired. 'Just take me home.'

'But - '

'Now, Doctor,' she snaps. 'I want to go home.'

That shuts him up at any rate. The Doctor leaves without a word, and a moment later Donna hears the sound of the TARDIS engines firing up.

#

'You all right, sweetheart?' Wilf sits down beside Donna at the kitchen table, bringing tea and sympathy.

'Yeah, I'm fine,' says Donna. 'Actually, no, not really.'

'You're allowed to miss him, you know,' Wilf tells her. 'Don't have to pretend everything's hunky-dory in front of your old Gramps.'

'Stupid Martian git,' mutters Donna, without conviction. 'No better than any other man.'

Truth be told, it's not even the Doctor she's really angry with. Well, she is, but not half as cross as she is with herself. Honestly, falling for a bloke that isn't even real, how thick is she? Nah, she's not thick, just chronically unlucky. She might have saved herself, saved entire worlds, but she's still stuck back at home with no job, no plans, and a baby on the way. An alien baby, mind you, whose idiot father might like to blather on about how brilliant Donna is, but he didn't exactly put up much of a fight for her, did he?

'Tell you what might cheer you up,' says Wilf, shaking Donna out of her reverie. 'Parcel came for you this morning. Your mum left it on the worktop. Why don't you go and take a look?'

She's got nothing better to do, so Donna hauls herself up and goes to investigate. She's not expecting anything, and there's no postmark on the package, so she half-suspects it's another ploy by Gramps or Mum to lift her spirits. Tearing back the brown paper and sticky tape, she's surprised to find something she recognises: that junior dimensional-thingy box from Torchwood. Maybe Martha's sent her a present?

It's not from Martha. The box is full of plants, hundreds of them, strange and wonderful plants from other worlds. Some Donna recognises from her travels with the Doctor, but others are entirely new to her. There are flowers made of ice, and fire-buds shooting orange smoke. Weird, twisty things that look like corals, with silver-winged butterflies basking on the fronds. What looks like a little box ball made of gold shoots glitter across the kitchen, and elegant velvet-red stems hum like tuning forks when Donna holds them. Right at the very bottom of the box is a little terracotta pot with moss covering the soil, containing a single miniature daffodil.

Donna's not heard the TARDIS, but she isn't surprised to look up and find that Gramps has made himself scarce, and there's the Doctor leaning in the kitchen doorframe, hands in his pockets and trying to look cool.

'Still want to punch me in the face?' he asks.

'Same as ever,' she tells him, but there's no time to act coy. The Doctor practically leaps across the kitchen, gathering Donna up in a bone-breaking hug. It feels good too, great to have her best friend back, just like old times.

'You coming with me, then?' says the Doctor when Donna finally lets him go. 'You said you were going travel with me forever, remember?'

'Yeah, well, that was before infected me with your stupid alien consciousness, wiped my memories, disguised yourself as human and got me pregnant,' says Donna.

'Er, about that,' says the Doctor. 'How do you feel about... y'know...?

'Breeding with you?' Donna finishes for him. 'Well, you wouldn't exactly be my first choice. Wouldn't even be my millionth choice, actually, but since I'm already up the spout I suppose I might as well make the best of it.'

She's pleased as punch really, but it wouldn't do to let on to the Doctor now, would it? He might start getting ideas.

Possibly he can see right through her, because her answer makes the Doctor inordinately happy, and Donna finds herself wrapped up in another long-limbed hug. 'Oh, that's wonderful,' he says. 'Brilliant. You'll make a brilliant mum.'

'Just as well, given the stupid great space-plonker the poor kid's gonna have for a father, innit?' Donna teases, enjoying for a moment falling back into the old routine of banter and traded insults, but her worries catch back up with her, and her expression becomes more serious. 'Doctor, is it safe? It's not normal, is it, having a baby that's another species?'

'It's... unusual, yeah, but not dangerous,' says the Doctor. 'Not if you get the right care, and I'll make sure you do, I promise. There's this amazing hospital, run by cats, best xeno-physicians in the universe.'

'Cats?' says Donna. 'Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me.'

'Seriously, they're brilliant, you wait and see.' The Doctor grins, offering Donna his arm. 'So, Miss Noble, shall we?'

'Yeah, all right,' says Donna. 'Just give me a few minutes to say my goodbyes.'

#

A whole lot of hugging and promises to visit later, Donna's back in the TARDIS, with the Doctor bouncing around the console like a thing demented. She's not bothered to pack this time - after all the trouble he's caused, the Doctor owes her a shopping trip. Someplace nice. With unlimited credit.

'Ready to go?' asks the Doctor, bouncing alongside her. 'Places to go, people to meet, new worlds to discover. Time and space. You and me and baby makes three.'

He's still grinning like a madman, and as he speaks he reaches out to touch her belly. Yeah, right. There's something she'd like to make very clear before they go any further.

'Just so's you know,' says Donna, removing the Doctor's hand from her person and giving it back to him. 'I am never having sex with you ever again.'

'What, really?' The Doctor looks genuinely surprised. 'You seemed to like it at the time.'

'Never again,' insists Donna firmly.

'Have it your own way,' says the Doctor. 'Only, I've been reading some of Martha's old textbooks, and apparently towards the end of the second trimester human women get really, really - '

' - desperate?' says Donna. 'What, desperate enough to change species just to get a shag?'

'You-oo liked it,' crows the Doctor, undeterred. 'Had me flat on my back and my trousers down before I could draw breath. "Ooh, baby, give it to me, let me have some of that lovely big tool." You couldn't get enough of me.'

'I was trying to be encouraging,' retorts Donna. 'You cried the first time we did it.'

'It was a very emotional moment, losing my... human virginity,' sniffs the Doctor. 'You cried when I proposed.'

Donna pulls a face. 'In case you hadn't guessed, sunshine, the wedding's off.'

'Really? I notice you're still wearing your engagement ring.'

'It's a nice diamond,' says Donna defensively. 'I've been thinking of having it reset.'

'Bit small for a knuckleduster,' the Doctor mutters under his breath. Out loud he says, 'No, really though, we have to get married.'

'If you want me that bad, you could just try begging,' says Donna. 'Not that I'm likely to change my mind, but I could do with a laugh.'

'No, seriously, we do,' says the Doctor. 'Have to get married, I mean. Those cats I told you about, they're also nuns. Did I mention the part about them being nuns? Anyway, they are. Bit old-fashioned nuns, don't approve much of unwed mothers, so I think we should get married. Keep it all above board, as it where.'

'If you think I'm marrying you to spare the feelings of some flea-ridden moggy in a wimple, you're even dafter than you look.'

'Aw, it wouldn't be so bad, would it?' wheedles the Doctor. 'You liked it before, yes you did.'

'Shut it.'

'Actually, have you still got that little nurse's outfit? Cos now that I'm me again, we could play - '

' - do you know, I'm starting to have second thoughts about punching you in the face again?'

'Now, Donna, don't be like that.' The Doctor's suddenly serious again, turning away from Donna to flick a couple of switches and watching the Time Rotor start up. 'You don't want to be exerting yourself. Not in your condition - OW!'

It's more a playful slap upside the head than the full left hook, but the Doctor takes a theatrical tumble to the ground anyway. Donna rolls her eyes, then goes to sit down beside him. 'C'mere.'

The Doctor shuffles closer to her, resting his head on her shoulder. 'Friends?' he asks hopefully.

'Course. Always,' says Donna. 'Doctor, do you really think we'll be all right?

'Course we will,' says the Doctor. 'And that's not special Time Lord code either. You and me, in the TARDIS, the whole of time and space. What's gonna stop us?'

Donna smiles, taking the Doctor's hand and giving it a friendly squeeze. 'Nothing. Nothing at all.'