He was inside, tinkering with the console, pushing buttons and flicking switches. The constant humming of the machine made itself manifest inside the control room. Aside from that sound, there was nothing but silence. He leaned forward, toward the glass cylinder that stood in the middle of the room, and stared at the mechanism, the same mechanism he had been staring at for years—centuries even—the same mechanism that has changed through time.
He was alone, like most of the time. Like all the time. He paused from whatever he was doing smile, remembering the good old days when he had companions, all those companions. Suddenly, a ringing began.
“What?” He muttered, quite unsure of where the sound was from. “What?” He searched the room; the ringing continues.
He groped around the console, the part where the ringing came from. “Ah!” He exclaimed as he found the source of the ringing.
“A phone?” He sounded surprised. It kept ringing. “Where—” He asked, but then he remembered. It was Martha’s. She gave it to him before she left, because she is not having him disappear. He flicked the phone open. “Hello,” he said.
“Doctor,” a woman’s voice answered from the other line. Martha. She sounded excited—a bit more like enthusiastic and worried and confused. “Doctor, she remembers.”
“What?” He responded, confused of what he heard.
“She remembers. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but she remembers. And she is okay. She is fine. Nothing happened to her. She remembers, Doctor. She remembers.” Martha supplied, almost out of breath.
“Who? Who remembers?” He asked.
“Donna,” Martha answered. “Donna Noble. She remembers. And she’s waiting for you at Chiswick.”