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Sometimes when she wakes before him, she finds herself looking upon his face and remembering the man he once was. Her Doctor, the way he was before his face changed, before universes separated them, before she was left with this odd human copy of the man she loved.
Although she finds his new face quite handsome, and even now has to stop herself from running her fingers thru that messy hair of his that she adores, she remembers fondly how his nose looked before, and his silly grin. How he dressed differently, black leather jackets and portraying a hint of that bad boy image. But mostly she remembers his hand. How his fingers felt that first day when he took ahold of her hand. She thinks that perhaps that was when she felt it first. That spark of madness that overtook her life, a madness that became the greatest love she had ever known, a love that at times threatens to consume her very soul.
Almost as if he knows her thoughts, he tosses about in his sleep, his hand coming up to brush at his face. She stares at his hand, fixated on the way his fingers look. As much as she loves him, that hand of his still gives her the creeps sometimes. Always remembering how she saw it regrown after it was chopped off by the sword, and how the man she now shares her bed with had somehow been created by that severed limb.
She misses her Doctor, wonders if he is safe. Is Donna still traveling with him, taking care of him, or is he alone again? As the man next to her wakes, and smiles at her, she stares into his brown eyes as the biggest fear comes creeping back into her mind. What if he has another new face and is another new man completely?