Entire cultures had fallen, trying to resist the Doctor. She much less than that. Control, no matter how much she'd have liked it, slipped away all too quickly. All but the one, so deeply ingrained never, never, never say it. Words fell, half formed, nonsensical, and nails clawed into sheets. Better half-formed than completed.

Like everything about her now, when he reached the goal he seemed so intent and efficient at striving for, it was sudden, violent, and distinctly vocal.

In the haze that followed, she did manage the thought that it was fortunate the TARDIS remained empty today. Donna would have never let her live it down.