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"I'm sorry Donna."
It had happened again.
The Doctor was standing at the doorway of her room again, holding his arm in a way that could only mean one thing.
"I swear I really tried. I did all the stuff that you told me to, but I failed. I'm sorry."
"Doctor, it's okay. Well, it's not. But it's not your fault, I know that you tried."
Donna was quick to reassure him, knowing that he found it hard to tell when she was mad at him.
It hurt how the Doctor slumped against the door in relief, even though she knew it wasn't her fault.
She felt the usual fire in her chest at the idea that someone would blame the Doctor for the turmoil they were in.
"Now come on. Let's clean it up."
Obediently, the Doctor followed her to the cabinet where they stocked the medical supplies. The only thing betraying their utter exhaustion was the stumbling and the indigo bags that hung under their eyes.
Donna was pretty sure she didn't look much more awake.
"Sit down on the toilet and put your arm in the sink."
The Doctor followed the instructions after first putting the toilet seat down.
"Now, I need to know; is your arm the only thing that's injured?"
"Yes, I promise. I realised what I was doing after- Well, you know."
"Thank you for telling me. I'm proud of you."
"Why are you proud of me? I relapsed."
"Yes. And you managed to stop yourself, Spaceman. I think that's worth some pride."
Slowly, the Doctor allowed himself a small smile. Donna decided to take advantage of his calmness to start cleaning the wounds.
Although they both winced slightly whenever she ran the cloth over a deep cut, it only took a few minutes to clean all the injuries and a little longer to dress them safely and neatly.
)o+o(
When she was done, the Doctor looked up at her gratefully.
"Thank you for putting up with this, Donna."
"Oi! I'm not putting up with anything. You're my friend, I will always help you."
The Doctor stopped trying to encapsulate his gratitude in words and instead stood up and hugged Donna tightly.
"Thank you."