An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 29
An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 29 (The voices are back and the 50th is over.)
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Co-Captain of this Ship: WhosInTheAttic, but all errors are mine alone.
Rating: PG for Plot Galore. Sorry, I broke my promise. The absolutely diabolical part is underway already but not yet ready for publication. It'll be in the next part, I promise.
Word Count: 6,057
Summary: Peter finally tells Donna what he's found and what he suspects about her past. Disclaimer: Donna and Peter- not mine, but in my mind. And thank you to dm12, for the gentle nudge. I promise, I was gonna post today anyway, but it's nice to know you care.
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 10 | Part 15 | Part 20.1 | Part 25
Wednesday, 12 June, 2012 11:50 AM
Ian looked up quizzically from his sandwich as Peter leaned away from the table and fumbled for his mobile in his coat pocket. His face lit up as he glanced at the display and there was a smile in his voice as he answered.
“Hullo, Donna," he said waggling his eyebrows at Ian across the table. "How are ye this fine mornin'?" It was the first time Peter had actually spoken more than two words at a go all day and Ian rolled his eyes with an indulgent smirk. An amused jibe at his partner's expense died on his lips as he saw Peter's expression fall, becoming grave as he stilled and his voice lost it's playful tone.
"Donna, what is it? What's wrong?" Peter asked urgently with a worried look at his friend across the table. Ian cocked his head to the side inquisitively and Peter responded by pulling the phone away from his ear slightly so that Ian could hear Donna's tremulous response.
"Peter...," Donna said with a slight quaver in her voice, "...could you... if it's not too much trouble... could you come over? Please?"
"Of course," he responded immediately, glancing up at his partner. Ian nodded his assent and Peter continued. "What's happened?"
"It's probably nothin'," she demurred, "but I think...." Ian heard the hesitation in Donna's response and frowned, leaning closer to the phone. "I think there was someone in my flat this mornin'," she finished with reluctance.
"What?" Peter demanded, starting up from the table. "Where are ye now? Are ye safe?"
"They're gone… I think. But there was … someone ... here. I mean, I didn’t actually see anyone … but something was here," she stammered, annoyed with her inability to convey what she'd experienced. "I was out in my garden this morning, and I don't know how, but when I came in from workin’, someone was already inside," she babbled, only stopping to gulp for air.
"Donna, slow down. Tell me what happened," Peter said evenly, forcing himself to remain calm in the hopes of influencing Donna. He stood stock-still and stared at Ian while he fought to stay detached and rational and he heard her take a shuddering breath and exhale raggedly before continuing.
"Peter, I'm fine. Really," Donna said, putting on a brave face. She switched her mobile from one ear to the other, tossing her hair over her shoulder before continuing. "And I know how mental this sounds, but I'm sure. Someone was here, " she tried to clarify before giving up with a growl of exasperation. "Oh, Peter, please! Just come over! I can show you…" She stalked over to her doorway and carefully moved the large cardboard box she'd placed over the footprint to preserve it from the winds swirling about in her courtyard garden. She snapped a picture and texted it to him. "I mean, I didn't just imagine this on my doorstep, now, did I?" she cried, her mood seesawing between desperation and frustration.
"Hang on, did ye just send me a photo? It hasnae come through yet," he said. "I'm putting ye on speaker so Ian can hear and so I can look at what you sent."
Donna continued as though she hadn't heard. "Peter, this wasn't there when I came in from gardenin' a few minutes ago, I know, I looked down when I came in to avoid trackin' in the dirt I'd spilled," she said and she was disgusted to realize her hands were shaking.
"Donna, love, ye've got to calm down, tell me more," Peter started to say when her text came through. He paled visibly, staring at the mobile in his hand as Donna continued.
“I went in and I got the strangest sensation that someone was there and then the door just blew open and when I went to close it, the print was there, in the dirt. And before that, I swear, there was somethin' in the corner of my dining room, but I couldn't see it. And then I told it to get out and my door opened by itself and I heard the courtyard door slam..." Donna sobbed over the phone in mounting hysteria, trying to bring herself back under control. "I know it sounds completely bonkers, but I swear, someone - was -here, in my flat, with me. But I never saw a thing. Never. It was like a ghost or somethin'."
"Donna, get out of there, now," Peter cut in firmly, his voice tight with concern as he flashed the image to Ian and ran for the car. "Leave everythin': just get out. Get out and go to a neighbors' or one of the ground floor shops, alright? Ian and I- we're on our way."
**********
Wednesday, 12 June, 2012, 2:20 PM
Donna sat on her sofa, arms wrapped tightly about her, breathing in and out mechanically. She’d been still and quiet, almost as if she were in shock, since Peter had come for her as she’d sat in the window of the Turnham Green Cafe. He’d put his arm around her and tried to guide her to his car, but she’d shook her head and looked at him pleadingly. “I don’t want to be alone,” she’d said quietly. Her eyes had widened when the Crime Scene Investigation van had pulled up into her car park but she’d insisted on accompanying them as they’d headed up to process her flat. Ever since, she’d sat quietly, unmoving and unmoved.
Peter had been torn, awkwardly switching between supervising the search for trace evidence and trying to engage Donna in conversation. Ian walked back from securing the rest of Donna’s flat and paused in the hall doorway, watching Peter waver before moving to meet his partner. “The rest of the flat is clear. There are no signs of forced entry and nothing seems to be amiss,” he reported.
“Good. Thanks,” Peter replied tersely, still watching Alec. Ian could see just how tightly the other man was wound, especially when Peter began searching his coat pockets for the now-contraband sweets he used to carry. Peter was too close to this and he needed to settle other matters before he could be useful again, and Ian decided the best thing he could do now was facilitate that process.
“We’ll have to have Donna verify that, though,” Ian prodded, nudging Peter hard in the shoulder. When he looked over in surprise, Ian raised his eyebrows and gave a meaningful nod towards Donna while moving over to speak to Alec . Peter grimly smiled his thanks before going to sit beside her, quietly explaining what Alec and Hamish were doing in the far corner of the room as Donna continued to stare at the wall.
Just as Peter began to grow concerned at her silence, he saw her hands flex on her arms and her eyes flicked to him for a split second as she hissed under her breath, “I called you, Copper, not the bloody Met. I didn't realize you were bringin’ a whole flippin’ division with you!” She chewed the inside of her lip and looked down at the floor, refusing to meet his questioning gaze. She was trembling slightly, angry and afraid, and angry that she was afraid, but otherwise holding it together.
“Donna,” Peter replied gently, beginning to understand her uncharacteristic lack of response, “Ian, Alec and Hamish are hardly a division. And they're here to help, as friends.” He hazarded placing a tentative hand on her shoulder and was relieved when she leaned into him for a moment before she shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Donna tried to believe him, tried hard to relax, but it was one thing to tell Peter she'd panicked because of a ghost: it was entirely something else for others to know.
Determined to break though her discomfort, Peter moved closer to Donna and dipped his head to whisper in her ear, “Besides, wee Hamish over there?” Peter indicated the young tech with a barely perceptible nod. “Based on his reaction as he emerged from the CSI vehicle when he arrived in yer car park, not to mention his behavior since enterin’ yer flat, I’m fairly certain that he fancies ye.”
Donna's lips twitched into a begrudging smile as she noticed the surreptitious looks the young man shot her way between flashes of his camera. Peter sat back and sniffed, crossing his arms over his chest while still managing to brush his leg up against hers. “Oh, yes. Hamish, he fancies ye,” he declared with theatrical irritation. “He just caught ye lookin’ his way. Yer making his month right now. I wouldnae be surprised if he attempts to chat ye up before he goes.” Donna’s smile grew sincere and she rolled her eyes in response, leaning back and snuggling against him a bit as she began to relax. Peter carefully kept a straight face as he added, “I trust ye’ll set him straight, or should I?”, only breaking out into a grin when Donna relented and smacked him soundly on the shoulder. He started to put an arm around her when he noticed Alec stowing away his equipment. Slipping seamlessly into professional mode, he whispered, “I’ll be right back,” before he left her to rejoin his colleagues.
Alec stood from his kit and stretched, stripping off his gloves and stuffing them in his pocket. Under his breath, he muttered, “Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek.” Peter heard him as he approached, but in his agitated state, the quote failed to register.
“Well, what's the news?” Peter asked as he came up to next to Alec. “What did ye find?”
“Can't find anything when there's nothing to find,” he replied with a shrug. “Sorry, DI, Donna.” Peter felt something behind him and glanced over his shoulder, not completely surprised to find that she had followed. She started to open her mouth to protest when Alec continued. “He's good, I'll give him that. Once again, not a trace left behind -excepting the boot print - and I've sent photos of that on ahead to the lab for analysis.”
“Once again?” Donna breathed quietly. “Once again? You've seen this before?” She looked between Peter and Alec in wonder. “You believe me?”
“Of course,” said Ian, stepping up beside her casually. “After what happened yesterday afternoon?” He turned his attention to Peter, saying, “It’s got to be the same man, and I somehow doubt he’s related to our original investigation. The guy Bence implicated in Morgan’s murder is just a mid-level drug dealer. This level of sophistication and stealth is way beyond what Bence’s statement and our records indicate Tippet’s capable of.”
Peter nodded his agreement, mulling over the evidence. “No, you’re right, Ian,” he agreed. ‘Bence said he’d been hiding out because he’d known Tippet would come after him if he went to the police,” he explained to Donna before turning back to address Ian. “But Donna? She never even saw him. There's no logic in him coming after her, unless it was just to get at Bence and unnerve him and I doubt he'd go to those lengths."
"I agree," said Alec, standing as he finished packing his gear. "No, this has to be the same man who broke into your office, Peter." Donna’s eyes widened in disbelief and she bit her tongue, watching the exchange between the men with uncharacteristic quiet.
"This guy? I’m thinking he was here for some sort of damage control," interjected Ian, crossing his arm across his chest and stroking his chin. "It seems to me that he must have known Donna before, and now, for whatever reason, he’s using some stealth technology to do with UNIT and maybe even Donna's work with Doctor Smith to help him get around unnoticed. But here's the thing," he continued, shaking a finger at Peter. "I don’t think he means to do Donna any bodily harm. I mean, he had ample opportunity to do so if he’d wanted to, based on her statement." Ian turned to her suddenly, catching her off-balance. "Donna, did you get any inkling that whoever was here wanted to hurt you?" he asked.
"No," she replied automatically. "No, I don’t think so." She stopped to think, struggling to provide the evidence to back up her statement and after a few moments, she added, “After all, when he touched me, he was gentle, not threatenin' in the least."
Peter started, rounding to face her. "He touched ye?" Peter snapped, his expression stormy and dark. "Ye didnae tell me that earlier."
"I thought it was the wind at first, but lookin’ back on the whole thing the way you all are talkin’ about it puts what happened in a different perspective," she shot back, one hand on her hip. She raised the other hand and poked Peter once in the chest. "And it sounds to me like there are more than a few things goin’ on you haven’t told me about either, Sherlock." The shock that had dampened her fire was dissipating and Hamish turned away to hide his grin while Alec busied himself with organizing the gear in the Data Collection Kit at his feet.
Peter tilted his head back slightly and stared at her for a moment before nodding once. "Aye. Yer right. We'll talk, but for right now, pack a bag and get whatever bits and bobs ye need together for at least the next week. Until ye get a proper security system put in here, yer comin’ with me," he stated flatly, his tone suggesting he'd brook no opposition, but that carried no weight with the likes of Donna Noble. She pursed her lips and arched a brow at his presumption which he pointedly ignored. "Motion detectors, sensors on each window, remote panic button, the whole lot," he continued, gesturing about with a bit more emphasis than the situation called for.
"DI, that's not necessary," Donna said cooly, crossing her arms and taking a step back. "I'm fine now. I can take care of myself." She looked to Ian for support and was dismayed to see him slipping out the door followed by Alec, towing Hamish behind. Without an audience other than her lover, Donna deflated slightly. "It just frightened me, that's all," she admitted, looking at the floor.
"Aye, and it still frightens me," Peter said earnestly, moving closer as the other men discretely made their exit, closing the door to her flat behind them. He turned to her fully and stepped closer, the weight of his hands warm and comforting on her shoulders. "There's more ye don't know yet, Donna, but it’s no that I’m hidin’ anythin’ from ye. I'll show ye everythin', I promise. The pictures, the records, all other the information; everythin’ we know and all we suspect." Donna bit her lip, uncertain why she was hesitating. He was offering everything she'd demanded the previous day and more, but she still ached inside.
Peter reached out and caressed her cheek gingerly before taking a deep breath and continuing. "But in the here and now, ye haven't eaten and neither have Ian and I," he started and saw the dismay flash across her face. He was putting her off again, Donna thought, and it was more than she could bear.
"Copper," she growled, jerking back as her temper threatened to flare, but Peter recognized the danger signs. He let all his pretenses drop, and finally, thankfully, their responses to each other synced.
"Please, Donna," he pleaded softly, stepping closer but not touching her, "over lunch, Ian and I can share what we've found with ye. It'll be just the three of us, yeah? And after, if ye willnae stay with me, then let me put ye in a hotel with an officer outside yer door. I willnae be able to sleep if ye dinnae."
She inhaled in surprise at the naked sincerity of his admission and turned her face up to him as her anger fell away. Sensing the shift in her mood, Peter decided to press his advantage. "Please? For me?" he breathed as he lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips. Donna blinked before nodding her agreement and Peter smiled and pulled her close for a moment, burying his face in her hair. After a moment, he released her and stepped back awkwardly. "Go on, then. Pack yer bag,” he said with a nervous wave of his hand. “I'll go out and wrap things up with Alec while ye do. Then ye and Ian and I can talk over lunch.”
***********
Back at Turnham Green’s with their orders placed, Ian leaned back against the wall, retrieved his laptop from his bag and powered it up. After typing in his password, Ian pushed the computer over to Peter as his partner pulled his flash drive from his pocket. Donna approached the table, glancing between them both before stepping around Peter’s feet to take the seat next to Ian, but not before she caught the flash of disappointment cross Peter’s face. She averted her eyes quickly, watching his hands and her brow creased in puzzlement as he flicked the switch and disabled the wireless connection before inserting his flash drive into the USB port. “Can’t be too cautious,” he said quietly in response to her unvoiced questions. “It’ll all make sense before we’re done.” Donna looked to Ian quizzically who simply nodded his agreement. She pursed her lips for a moment and crossed her arms, waiting for Peter to continue.
Peter folded his hands before him and looked up through his fringe, carefully considering his words before speaking. “Donna, what I’m about to tell ye; I dinnae think any of this is a coincidence,” Peter explained slowly. “I've been puttin’ this talk off, waitin’ until we had more information and a clearer picture of yer past, but now I think I should have shared this with ye as soon as we found it.” He clicked on the screen a few times, then angled the laptop so that both Donna and Ian could see one of the images backed up on his flash drive. “Do you know this man?” he asked her, pointing to the screen and taking refuge in his professional personae.
“That’s him!” Donna cried immediately. “That’s Doctor Smith!” In her excitement, she nudged Ian’s arm none too gently, saying, “You see why, but for the mad hair and the tight suit, I thought Peter was him?” Peter’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as Ian rolled back into place with an amused smirk, and Donna cocked her head and fixed the man beside her with a baleful eye. “Oi!” she shot at him, “tell me I’m wrong!” Ian looked at the screen again as he considered her comparison, but in the interest of maintaining a harmonious working relationship with his partner, he stayed silent on the matter.
Peter turned the computer back to face him and clicked on the screen again and another image popped up on top of the previous one. “Do you recognize this?” he asked as he swiveled it back around for her to see.
Donna’s eyes grew wide as she looked at the picture before her. “Yes!” she exclaimed, jabbing at the screen as a few heads turned their way. “That was taken on the street outside H.C. Clements, my old job!” Ian wisely shifted in his seat until he was just out of her reach as Donna leaned closer to the computer. “So, do I know him from there?” she asked Peter excitedly as she studied Doctor Smith’s image on the screen.
Peter shot a look at Ian before he replied. “I dinnae think so,” he said quietly, reaching around the computer awkwardly to select the next photo. The image appeared, revealing Donna in a wedding dress, standing beside his double in front of a lift with another man.
Donna’s hand darted out to his as she started in shock. “That’s Lance,” she breathed, looking up at Peter in disbelief. “How did you … ? Where did this … ?” she began before shaking her head and staring again at the screen. Beside her, Ian slipped out of his seat on the bench beside Donna unnoticed and took the chair next to Peter.
“Do you remember this?” Peter asked, his voice just above a whisper as he watched her reaction. He leaned around the screen to click on the next photo in the folder. The display changed to show a distant image of what had to be Donna and Doctor Smith standing atop the Thames flood barrier, Donna leaning forward slightly as Doctor Smith’s hands steadied her at the waist.
Donna shook her head. “No,” she admitted, becoming subdued. “I don’t.” She roused herself and looked at Peter and Ian in turn. “And just what the bloody hell was I doin’ in the middle of the Thames in my wedding dress!” she demanded, leaning closer to the screen. Ian kicked Peter’s foot under the table and rolled his eyes in exasperation when his brilliant partner merely cocked an eyebrow at him. While Donna’s attention was still focused on the computer, Ian’s eyes darted meaningfully between Peter and the empty space beside her on the bench that ran the length of the wall. Peter hesitated for the length of a heartbeat before shifting around to sit beside her as Donna scooted unthinkingly into the spot Ian had previously occupied.
“What about this?” he asked, settling in beside her and clicking again as images taken from Adipose Industries’ security cameras flashed across the screen of a confident Donna walking along anonymous hallways. Donna sat speechless, shaking her head and biting her thumb as the cursor hovered over the next thumbnail. “Or this?” he murmured to her as the picture popped open, showing her running with her hair streaming madly behind as she followed Doctor Smith through utility tunnels in what appeared to be the bowels of some unknown building.
Donna turned to him, her hand trembling slightly as she touched it to her lips. “I don’t remember ever bein’ wherever these pictures were taken,” she confessed as she turned her attention back to the image on screen. Peter shifted closer to her and reached for her free hand, grasping it lightly and Donna laced her fingers with his. Peter moved the cursor and hovered over the last image in the folder, hesitating for for a brief second before he clicked away and opened a photograph from another folder.
Donna’s pleased expression appeared before them onscreen as, in the picture, she dangled an empty binder before a semi-circle of confused faces which included her mysterious Doctor Smith. “Does any of this look at all familiar?” Peter asked and he wasn’t surprised when she shook her head as she studied the patches plainly visible on the uniforms of the men and women arrayed before her.
“Peter, if it weren’t for the fact that I remember buyin’ that,” she said, subdued and almost frightened as she gestured at a gray-blue jacket she wore in the image onscreen, “I’d say these pictures couldn’t be of me. I don’t remember any of this and I haven’t seen that jacket in years.” She turned to look him squarely in the face before she shook her head with a mystified frown. “How is this even possible? And where did all this come from?” Donna queried. She lifted her hands to her temples, massaging them briefly as she glanced back at the screen and muttered under her breath, “He looks so much like you.”
"Donna, I want you to remain calm. Can you do that for me, please?” Peter asked gently. She nodded and licked her bottom lip as she cast a pleading look at Ian. He smiled reassuringly and Donna glanced down at her hand in Peter’s before she looked back at him. “These pictures here,” he said as he rearranged the images on screen, “These, I found in footage taken by CCTV and internal buildin’ security from two unsolved crime scenes."
Donna’ drew a startled breath as she processed his words. "Oh, no," she cried in horror, covering her mouth with her hands. "I am a criminal."
“No, that’s no the conclusion we’ve come to, not in the least, eh, Ian?” Peter said reassuringly. “Just let me finish, OK?” Donna swallowed hard and inclined her head for a moment and Peter continued.
“These, however,” he said, gesturing to the array of images on the second half of the screen, “these were obtained from a file we found on you through the Home Office.” Donna’s head whipped up and she stared at him warily. “A file in UNIT’s archives,” he revealed, watching her for any signs of recognition.
“UNIT?” Donna said incredulously, drawing circles in the air with one hand. “Isn’t that some sort of specialized military group to deal with counter-terrorism or somethin’? ”
“Stands for UNified Intelligence Taskforce, actually,” Ian explained. “It’s stated purpose is to investigate and combat paranormal and extraterrestrial threats to the Earth. What exactly that means in practice, however, is anyone’s guess.”
“What?” Donna exclaimed loudly. “Extraterrestrial? Like ET or somethin’? Paranormal? As in ghosts?” She sat back against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest, certain Ian was having her on. “So Steven Spielberg’s the head of this group?” she spat. “What am I doin’ in their archive?”
“Weeelllll,” Peter drawled, trying to give himself a moment to predict and prepare for her reaction, “accordin’ to this, ye were instrumental in savin’ the world.” He clicked on the screen once more and brought up the image of the file Ian’s contact had provided, enlarging it to make the text legible. He pushed the laptop closer for her to read and added, “From the way the assessment is phrased, I’m thinkin’ perhaps on more than one occasion.”
“You’re takin’ the mickey, the pair of you,” Donna scowled as she began to read but her expression changed the further along she got. She grew still, her face blank as her eyes scanned the document and as Peter debated the wisdom of reaching for her, her hand fumbled out towards him. He took her hand again and wondered how far she’d gotten in her reading when suddenly, she sat up straighter, cocked her head to the side and with a wry twist to her lips said a single word. “Obstreperous.” Ian glanced away to hide his smile and Peter grinned despite himself. “Is that it?” she said abruptly, looking up again at her DI, then his partner. “It just stops, mid-sentence. Is there another page?”
“Aye, there is, but we don’t have access to it,” Peter said in a low voice. “Let’s just say that what we do have wasnae obtained through strictly official channels and the likelihood of our bein‘ able to procure the entire document is so low as to be nonexistent.”
She looked at him and Peter was dismayed to see disbelief cross her features before she smiled and shook her head. She squeezed his hand gently and looked up at Ian. “There he goes again: fifty words where five would do,” she said to Ian drily. She sighed and turned her attention back to Peter. “So, Policeman, what does it all mean? I was this man’s assistant? It doesn’t say what exactly his job or his qualifications were, but it’s obvious that he didn’t work for them in an official capacity. And how does someone become a consultant to a group dealin’ with paranormal and extraterrestrial threats to the Earth anyway?”
“That’s the conundrum we’re dealing with now, Ms. Noble. The more we find, the more questions rise to the surface. And this isn’t ringing any bells for you?” Ian asked, indicating his laptop with a nod.
“No,” she admitted reluctantly and she was surprised when Peter and Ian shared a significant look. Peter nodded his head, mouth open slightly as his tongue swept across his teeth and Ian leaned back in his chair with a knowing expression. “What?” she said, watching their silent exchange. “What is it?”
Peter leaned forward and looked directly into her eyes. “This,” he said with a wave of his hand, “this and yer reactions taken together…. Donna, we searched, and you dinnae have any records anywhere for the time you were missin’, no even with the military or MI5.” He gave her a moment to digest his words before continuing. “But this picture,” he said, gesturing at the screen, “back to this Unified Intelligence Taskforce. They didnae know you, but they did know your Doctor Smith. Apparently he’s worked for them before, along with other people in his employ. People whose experiences with him made them valuable assets, so much so that they bothered to do an assessment on ye for future reference, which leads me to believe that this is standard practice for them.”
Donna listened intently and Peter paused, letting the implications of his statement filter down and settle in her mind. She leaned against the table and when she looked at him curiously, he resumed his explanation. “And there are rumors out there of another organization, a truly secret government agency and the little we've heard of their practices tally exactly with what you've experienced. Missing time, memory loss, a complete and total absence in the records…”
Donna’s mouth dropped open and she drew back a bit, her eyebrows raised. “What, you two think I had a dust-up with James Bond?” she exclaimed and at that, Ian couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter.
“No, Donna, no MI6,” Peter clarified. “This secret agency is actually above top-secret, so much so that even it's name is only ever dared to be whispered. Ye dinnae want their attention.”
“Whose attention?” she persisted.
“Torchwood,” Ian whispered, leaning over the table. “Rumor in the law enforcement community has it that if you run afoul of them, they make sure you'll never, ever be able to talk about it. The theory is that they have a way of erasing every trace of an encounter with them; memories as easily as physical evidence and no one has been able to lay a finger on them,” Ian said, stabbing the table with a finger in emphasis. “Ever.”
Donna looked between them both skeptically, indicating each with a wave of her finger. “And you two think … ?
“Donna, we dinnae know what to think,” Peter admitted, “but your symptoms, they fit a pattern we’ve heard of. We dinnae know what you were involved with with your Doctor Smith, but whatever it was, it looks as though it was very important and, as a result of it, you're a victim of whatever it is Torchwood does to cover their tracks.”
Donna sat in silence for a long moment, her arms wrapped tightly around herself and her eyes focused on the middle distance as she considered all she’d been told. Finally she turned back to Peter and slowly said, “You’re not being economical with the truth here, are you, Peter?” She turned to him fully, searching his face for confirmation.
“No. We’re tellin’ ye all we know and everythin’ we think. I promise,” he said sincerely, laying a hand on her arm. “You do believe me?”
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “It’s just a lot to process.”
He nodded his head in understanding and looked across at his partner as he added, “But I do have one more image I’d like to show ye.”
“All right,” she agreed as Peter clicked on the most recent folder on his flash drive. Before he could even frame a question, she sat back with a squeak of surprise as the picture appeared before her.
“Oh. My. God,” she breathed, turning to Peter instantly. “I know that jacket and those shoes,” she said pointing at the screen. “That's the drunken giraffe from the train. The one who was literally falling all over me about three weeks ago.”
“What?” Ian asked, confused by her imagery and not following at all.
“There was this man, beside me on the train a few weeks back, and it was like he couldn’t stand up properly. Every time we hit a bump, he managed to use me to keep himself upright,” she explained. “At first, I thought he was tryin’ to get fresh, but when I turned to tell him off, the look on his face broke my heart. He was so awkward and so miserable, I just couldn’t.”
“And you remember his clothing well enough to identify him, even though you cannae see his face in this picture?” Peter demanded.
“Well, look at him,” Donna said, waving at the screen, taken a bit aback at his intensity. “He was maybe 30 but he dressed like someone my granddad’s age, or maybe a college professor.”
“Would you be able to describe him for a sketch artist?” he continued.
“I guess,” Donna replied warily.
“Did he stay on the train after you’d left or did he get off before?” Ian interjected.
“Uhm, he got off one stop before mine, at Ravenscourt Park,” she answered, mystified at their reactions. “Why? Who is he? What’s he done? Where did this picture come from?”
“That,” Peter said forcefully, glancing at Ian, his eyes dancing with triumph, “that was taken from the surveillance cameras inside the Met. Yesterday. He broke in somehow and managed to evade the detection of the entire Metropolitan Police Service as he waltzed around the building, doin’ exactly as he pleased. He was there, in the building, at the same time ye were. Not only that,” he continued, leaning forward for emphasis, “I have reason to believe that this man stole the originals of the files ye’ve been looking at from my office yesterday. He doesnae want yer past to come to light for some reason.”
“But he looked harmless!” Donna protested.
“Ye know appearances can be deceivin’,” Peter replied evenly. “And we think this was the man in your flat earlier today.”
“No. Way,” she said emphatically. “How on earth could that clumsy fool hide in plain sight?”
“That’s what we’d like to know,” added Ian. “Probably the same way he was able to walk around the MET without being seen. We think it has something to do with the device in his hand.”
“What? Like Harry Potter and his invisibility thingy?” she asked dubiously.
“More like Arthur C. Clark,” Ian clarified. “ You know, ‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’ “ he quoted.
“You want to watch out, there,” Donna replied. “Your Geek is showin’,” she added with a smile as Kent waved at her from the counter. She punched Ian on the shoulder as she stood. “Come on, DS, make yourself useful. Lunch is ready. Come help me get it as that one clears the table,” she added with a stab of her thumb in Peter’s direction.
“As you wish,” Ian replied, rising from the table and Donna smiled wickedly.
“Oooh, think you could teach that line to him?” she teased as they walked together to pick up the trays.
Peter watched them go, smiling at the easy conversation about nothing flowing between his partner and his lover. He knew there would be more discussion about their findings later, after Donna had had time to think about all they’d revealed, but he’d worry about that then. He reached over to eject his flash drive, pausing for a moment before he did. He slipped the drive back into his pocket, powered the laptop down and stood, trading it for the tray that Ian carried as he came back to the table. Peter unloaded the tray as Donna did the same, and he took her tray along with his back to the counter.
“Ice cream?” Ian said, puzzled, glancing at the table as stowed his bag beneath his chair. “We didn’t order any ice cream, did we?” Peter heard Donna laugh and as he turned back to see her, he thought of the last image on his flash drive, the only one he didn’t open for her to see. He hadn’t even shared that photo with Ian, the one of Donna and Doctor Smith, alone and embracing with obvious delight on a staircase at Adipose Industries, and he knew with certainty that he wasn’t about to.
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