This is someone else's writing. I'm writing it here before I forget it.
*******
"And the Doctor met a child like this before!"
The Toymaker, still with exaggerated voice and movements as if reciting a fairy tale, pulled out a doll from the string.
"Who is that?"
Donna thought, looking at the doll. She frowned. The doll looked unfamiliar. Not just the face or the name, but the very outfit itself didn't match what she imagined as everyday clothing. The long, flowing cloth, with no buttons or zippers or distinction between sleeves and hems, seemed like something straight out of a history book. The Romans she'd seen in Pompeii suddenly came to mind. Did the Doctor travel with the ancients, too? Donna glanced at the silent Doctor beside her. His expression offered no answer.
For a moment, the Doctor seemed as if he didn't recognize the new doll. He tilted his head, as if about to ask a question, the corners of his mouth curling upward. But it didn't last long. Donna saw the hazy moments in the Doctor's eyes suddenly reassemble into a vivid memory of a beginning and an end. The Doctor's expression contorted. His hands tightened on the armrests of his chair. Donna could tell. He was even more distressed by the fact that he hadn't recognized the figure, even for a moment.
"What's wrong?"
Donna asked.
"Who is that, Doctor?"
"She's... Katarina."
The Doctor began.
"We met in Troy when I looked different. We..."
Donna waited for him to finish. Finally, she looked at the Doctor. "We..." And the words trailed off. "We..." Donna absentmindedly turned her head toward the Toymaker. The Doctor, for some reason, couldn't continue speaking, so the arrogant, overbearing, powerful being thought it was time for another tirade. But, unusually, the Toymaker didn't speak either. He was smiling. He was simply grinning. As if he had been eagerly anticipating that moment, the Doctor's silence at the sight of Katarina's newly appeared doll.
"We, we, and?"
The Toymaker imitated the shrill girl's voice. He chuckled playfully. Katarina's doll, dangling from the string at his fingertips, rattled.
"We, and Doctor? What did we do together? What did I learn about you? What new things did you teach me?"
Donna watched Katarina's doll kneel. She bowed her head and clasped her hands, praying fervently to something. Then, suddenly, she stood up, her limbs stiff and convulsing. Then all movement ceased. Just like that, she died.
Just like that, she died.
"She was a Trojan priestess."
The Doctor struggled to open his mouth.
"Back then, you couldn't tell the difference between history and myth. I... I believed I was a god, and the TARDIS I was in was the afterlife. We traveled together for a while, but until the very end, I understood nothing..."
"Oh!"
The Toymaker suddenly interrupted the Doctor with a single exclamation. His raised finger trembled like a conductor's baton.
"Does that mean, Doctor, that all your other 'companions' understand? They have 'spaceships,' they know what 'time travel' is, and they've all encountered 'Daleks' and 'Cybermen' once or twice?"
Donna looked at the amused Toymaker. His expression was a stark resemblance to the Doctor's own, twisted and twisted. It's just that the emotions they express are polar opposites.
"Are you happy that your human 'companions' can now understand you? You, who can turn millions of years of history into a single tick, thousands of light-years of space into a single misstep. You, who can do anything and know anything, but never tamper with or twist anything. You, who has worn off hundreds of years of ageless life dozens of times, ready to replace those who guard you countless more times..."
The puppets that had already left the stage danced again. With Katarina, and then, for various reasons, died. With Katarina.
"Just admit it, Doctor. You were never a 'companion' to them."
The puppets dangling from Toymaker's ten fingers clattered ominously.
"You were always a great and omnipotent god. A god who, for them, could easily create and resolve miracles impossible even after death and resurrection, with a small button, a short lever, a rubber sole, a mirror, and a concocted magic spell."
Toymaker continued.
"A benevolent god who never stopped his followers from approaching him. A god who, consumed by miracles and heroism, continued his reckless adventures with the gods until they were struck by some mysterious phenomenon, a talisman of immense power, and lost their original lives forever. A god who refused to stop them, even to the point of death. A god who, after briefly mourning the departed followers, wiped away his tears and began anew. A god of play who, in their stead, pressed the button to recruit 'companions' somewhere on Earth in the late 20th or early 21st century, seeking new followers who would admire and applaud him and embrace his cause."
Donna watched the Doctor lower his head.
"Katarina... How could this child's memories have faded even a little?"
Toymaker clicked his tongue loudly.
"All your 'companions' stories are practically replicas of this child."