They last three weeks in her one-bedroom flat.
Rose has a job. She has a team (well, half of one now that Mickey went back and isn’t that a kick in the gut) and a magazine subscription and curtains. She was even thinking of getting a kitten, before everything.
Doctor has a blue suit and a million lifetimes to fit into one.
She buys the tickets on a Monday, leaves them on the kitchen table.
“What are these?” Doctor asks.
“Venezuela,” she says. “I’ve always wanted to go.”
The tickets are one-way. Doctor’s grin is brighter than the returning stars.
Martha tries to resign. It’s a little difficult when you turn out to be the highest ranking member alive.
She sends out over fifty emails, to every contact on her list. Only two are answered.
One is from Anna Cho, full of information about the status of UNIT forces on the Eastern side of the globe.
The second one is from a UNIT training facility in the heart of Cornwall.
She gets there the following morning. In the courtyard a handful of recruits stand in attention, battle-worn and impossibly young.
“M’am,” one of them says, saluting. “What are your orders?”
They tell her she’s been sick, really sick, and she should rest for a while. She doesn’t feel sick though, or tired. If anything, she feels… strong. Like she could take on the world.
So she does what she always does and goes back to work; administrative assistants are needed now more than ever.
One morning she discovers a piece of paper taped to her computer.
Donna Noble, it says, in a handwriting she doesn’t recognise. You’re brilliant!
She never finds out who the note is from, but in the end it doesn’t matter. What matters is that they’re right.