An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 34.2
An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 34.2
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Co-Captain of this Ship: WhosInTheAttic, but all errors are mine alone.
First Mate: The lovely serenityslady has officially joined the crew. Thanks for the support and suggestions!
Rating: PG for Plot Galore
Word Count: 3,280
Disclaimer: Donna and Peter- not mine, but in my mind. Apparently, guilt is a good motivator, as Peter started talking to me as soon as I blamed the tardiness of my recent posting on him.
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 10 | Part 15 | Part 20.1 | Part 25 | Part 30
June 16, 2012 9:00 AM, BST
“Sooooo,” Donna said, chewing her lip pensively, “what’s the skinny, Policeman? What could you possibly have to tell me that’s made you so unsettled that you had to drag me out in public to do it?” She cocked her head to the side and studied Peter, noting the faint colour that rose in his cheeks. “Come on, how bad could it be? I mean, I already know I was a PA to some UNIT expert Something-or-Other who specialized in Little Green Men, and you figure I was the victim of some Black Ops agency who goes about willy nilly wiping the memories of troublesome people who’ve seen too much,” she said, wiggling her fingers about on either side of her face and rolling her eyes. “What’s left for me to have been doing during my missing time? Toppling oppressive regimes? Averting natural disasters? Being abducted by an alien?” She pushed the remains of her breakfast to the side of the table and pulled her mug in front of her, toying with the handle for a moment before looking back up at him.
Misinterpreting Donna’s nervous movements, the waitress came by and offered,” Can I get you two anythin’ else, then?” She smiled as Donna looked questioningly at Peter, then shook her head. “No, I think we’re fine, thanks,” she replied.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” the girl replied said as she laid the bill down and cleared the empty plates from the table before moving away through the busy dining room.
When the waitress was out of earshot, Peter leaned an elbow on the table and fixed her with a serious glare. “Donna,” he huffed, running his hand through his hair, exasperated at her flippancy, “when ye say it that way, of course it sounds completely daft, but that doesnae change the facts. When ye’ve eliminated the impossible, what remains…
“I know Peter, I know, and it’s not that I don’t believe you, but really? Me?” she said with a shrug. “When you consider all this happening to me, it is a bit far fetched. There has to be a simple explanation for all this, right?”
Peter nodded once with a resigned frown. “We know ye were with Doctor Smith durin’ the Burning Sky Incident and that UNIT was involved,” he said reasonably as he pulled out a stack of pictures from his coat pocket and laid them on the table between them. He tapped his finger on the clearest image first, the one of Donna, smiling and dangling an empty binder, surrounded by uniformed men with Doctor Smith by her side. “And from the beginnin’, I was reasonably sure that these were of ye as well,” he added, fanning out the rest of the pictures on the table before her.
“I’ve seen these before, Peter,” Donna reminded him slowly. “I didn’t remember them the first time, and I don’t remember them now.”
He studied her openly as if trying to memorize the moment, then looked away, ducking his head and running his hand through his hair again with a sigh.
“Policeman?” she asked quietly, his unease beginning to worry her. “What is it?”
He scratched at the back of his neck before he spoke. “Donna, I told ye before, there’s one more image I want ye to see. Well, no exactly want ye to see, but ye need to see. And then, we need to talk,” he said quietly.
“And here’s me thinkin’ we were doin’ that already,” she teased. When he offered only a half-hearted smile in return, she sobered a bit, then tried unsuccessfully to hide her mounting anxiety. “That sounds ominous,” she said, half playful, half serious.
“No, no ominous, but it is important,” he reassured her. “Ye need to see this. It may hold some of the answers ye need.” He held out his hand and smiled at her encouragingly, but his smile was at odds with the flicker of apprehension she saw in his eyes.
As she began to reach across the table, Donna had a premonition, a flash-forward for the briefest of moments and she knew without knowing how that this event was both inevitable and inexorable. She had to see whatever Peter didn’t want to show her. She had to hear whatever Peter didn’t want to say. Afterwards, nothing would ever be the same. They had reached a turning point and she could see their futures dancing before her, every possible permutation of happily-ever-after shimmering side by side with every conceivable tragic ending. Before she could so much as draw a breath, colors without names burst before her eyes, obscuring her vision and overwhelming her with their strangeness. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear her eyes of the subtle shades that engulfed her, refracting and reflecting in patterns never before seen on earth, coalescing into a swirling chaos that centered around them both. She saw all of time and space stretching away to infinity and the enormity of it all threatened to obliterate her. Just as Donna realized with dismay that she was lost, drowning in forever, Peter’s fingers brushed hers, blessedly warm and human and as quickly as it began, it ended. At the touch of his hand on hers, she forgot.
“Donna?” he whispered as he used his free hand to pull one picture out away from the others. “Love, just look.” She blinked again and stared up at him in confusion. “Please?” he begged, his voice breaking, and he swallowed before continuing. “I cannae pretend any longer. This is ye together with him, isnae it?”
Reluctantly, Donna tore her eyes away from him. As she looked down at the picture he pushed across to her, she stopped breathing and her world slid sideways. The picture was a bit grainy and off center, but there was no mistaking the subjects captured therein. In a deserted stairwell of some unknown building, Doctor Smith held her in a bone-crushing embrace and was grinning in obvious delight. Donna’s own face was hidden from the cameras by the curtain of her hair, but there was no mistaking her posture as she enthusiastically returned his embrace.
Peter saw the moment Donna slipped from the present and hovered on the fringes of her past. She pulled her hands away from him without knowing it and to his consternation, for the first time in weeks, Donna’s right hand strayed to the ring finger of her left hand as a single tear streaked down her cheek. At her reaction, his heart dropped, seeing his worst fears seemingly confirmed.
Donna swallowed without realizing it, her breathing ragged and her head spinning. She could hear that blasted, beautiful, frustratingly-familiar atonal song again, the one she couldn’t even hum. Just as she started to panic, his hand was on hers, pulling her back from the brink and he shifted so that he was sitting beside her. She turned blindly to him. “Peter, I…” she stammered. “I…I don't remember.” She picked up the photo with a trembling hand, then shook her head. “I don't remember this, I don't remember him, I don't ... “ she mumbled frantically.
Her eyes grew wide and she shook her head, biting her lip as vague memories aligned with the evidence in her hand. “Oh, God, Peter... I knew him. I knew him…,” she realized. “Oh, it all makes sense. That's why …" Tears sprang to her eyes and she looked at the ceiling, unable to go on.
Peter wanted to say something to comfort her, but for the first time with Donna, the words refused to come. Instead he squeezed her hand gently and waited for her to continue.
“That night, at my mum’s house… He ... he went out of his way to say goodbye and I was so rude. I didn't mean to be. I was on the phone and I just didn't think. And when Veena finally rang off, the look on his face... he looked just like a kicked puppy or somethin’. He knew me and I just...,” she rambled on in explanation. She looked desperately at the man beside her as if he could absolve her of her sin. “I reckoned I'd just apologize the next time he came ‘round, but I never saw him again.”
“An’ that’s why ye started so violently that night ye first saw me. Ye thought ye had finally found him, nearly two years on,” he murmured, looking down at their hands so she couldn’t see his eyes as he twined his fingers with hers.
“Smith, Smith, Smith,” she muttered under her breath, still lost in recollection and missing the note of sadness in his voice. “That’s never his real name.” She clutched at her hair in frustration, her head spinning, and she felt unaccountably warm as the sun came out from behind the morning clouds and filled the little booth she shared with her policeman. “It’s maddenin’, Peter. His name is on the tip of my tongue but it just keeps slippin’ away. I couldn't say it if my life depended on it,” she cried, even as she became aware of a sweet, musical sighing, almost as if someone nearby was softly singing.
“Why can't I remember?” she begged, turning to face him fully.
Peter swallowed and glanced away, his lips compressed into a hard, thin line. He tried to hide it, but Donna saw the sudden, subtle tension in his jaw and she reached out for him, intending to ask him what was wrong as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. He glanced back, meeting her curious gaze once more before averting his eyes, but it was enough. She had seen. Peter was angry and deeply ashamed of it, she realized belatedly. He was humiliated by the jealously that filled him, which threatened at any moment to overflow and overwhelm his larger purpose, but for her sake, he was trying to be a better man.
Her heart went out to him and at the same time, she realized that her frustration was just a reflex. The deep, burning need for her past was gone, the hole in her heart filled in. Donna was done with drifting through life; she was tired of being the woman who waited, marking time and waiting for her life to begin. She wanted something more to hold onto than vague, unsettling snatches of recollection, and she was ready to do something about it.
“Peter,” she said quietly, “How long? How long have you had this picture?”
“A while now,” he admitted, still examining their hands.
“Why not show me this before?” she pressed.
Peter chewed his lip pensively. “I didnae like what I saw,” he finally admitted.
“What’s happened?” she persisted, intent on teasing out the truth. “Why the change of heart?”
He turned her hand in his, cradling it and covering it with his other hand. “I realized,” he began slowly, before leaning back and sighing heavily, rubbing at his eyes. “I realized I was bein' a selfish git,” he confessed. “I want to be honest, an I want ye to be happy, even if it’s no with me,” he finished in a wretched voice. He ventured to look up then, meeting her gaze and he frowned slightly, sucking in air between his teeth before fixing his eyes on a spot just above her head.
“Peter, there's something I want you to do for me,” Donna said as she reached over to gently lay a hand on his face and bring his eyes back to hers. “Will you?”
“Of course,” he replied without hesitation. “Ye've but t' ask.”
“I want you to stop. Stop lookin’ into my past,” she said with a conviction that surprised them both.
“What?” he asked, appalled. “Why?”
“Don’t. Just don’t,” she replied, caressing his cheek. “I’m not interested in lookin’ for what I lost anymore 'cos I've found all I need and everythin’ I could ever want.” She smiled gently at him, hoping he could see the truth of her words in her eyes.
“But Donna, we’re so close-“ he protested.
“No, Peter. Hear me out. Before I met you, I didn’t see a future, so I was obsessed with findin’ out about my past. I was frightened and alone, but I don’t feel that way anymore,” she told him seriously. “You reminded me that I have worth, regardless of what my mum thinks,” she added ruefully. “I’m still workin’ on believin’ it, mind, but with you around, it gets easier every day.”
“Donna-“ he tried again, but she cut him off before he could continue.
“And I’m glad I took on this long-term assignment at C&G. I’ve started to make friends there, and I can see my contributions makin’ a difference in the office. I’ve become a ‘valued employee’,” she chuckled, making air quotes around the term, “but honestly, I only did it to be closer to where you work ‘cos I wanted to see more of you.”
“Donna,” he said, awkwardly scratching his head before being silenced by her raised eyebrow. She waited until he capitulated with a resigned shrug, tiny smiles forming on both their lips but for different reasons.
“Peter, somehow, everythin’ good that’s happened to me lately is all down to you,” she finally admitted with a bashful smile, looking up at him through lowered lashes.
“I think yer overstatin’ the matter a bit, Donna. I-“ he started again, but she refused to let him downplay his role in her life.
“Peter, I’d given up before you. I didn’t think I’d ever love again. I didn’t think I deserved it,” she admitted quietly, before offering him a giddy smile.
Peter shook his head in automatic denial, but Donna continued.
“Well, then, look at it this way,” she said soberly. “No one from my past ever bothered to try and find me or anythin’. I’m still in the same city. I didn’t change my name when I married. My mum and granddad still live in the same place. This picture?” She waved a hand at it dismissively. “I don’t know what was happenin’, but this Doctor Smith? He knows where I am. He was at-my-house,” she said, stabbing the image decisively, “and in all this time, he’s never once tried to contact me. I obviously didn’t matter much to him,” she finished, her tone matter-of-fact.
“Then the man’s a fool,” Peter replied hotly before he took a deep, calming breath. “Donna,” he offered more charitably, “did it no occur to ye that perhaps he wanted t’ find ye but was prevented from doin’ so? Maybe Torchwood got to him as well?”
“Peter, love, you’re either a hopeless romantic or you’ve seen too many spy movies,” she laughed, leaning in to kiss him. “What, you think he and I were lovers, separated by destiny? That stuff doesn’t happen, not in real life.”
“But Donna,” he tried once more, “I promised ye I’d look into yer past, to find-”
“And you’ve kept your promise,” she interrupted. “Peter, my past? It doesn’t matter, and knowin’ what happened to me wouldn’t change a thing. I want you to stop. Stop lookin’. I’ve already found my happiness,” she said with a tender kiss. “I’m good. Are we good?”
He smiled back at her, the first genuine smile he’d managed since entering the restaurant, he realized. “Better than good- we’re great.” He leaned in again and brushed his lips across the back of her hand.
Donna glanced up at him and caught sight of their waitress, belatedly realizing that the girl was making her third discreet circle back to where they were seated. She reached into her bag just as Peter saw the bill on the table and he waved her gesture away as he pulled out his wallet. “It’s my pleasure,” he said, discomfited, realizing how long they’d been tying up the table and fishing out enough to cover their meal and leave their server a generous gratuity. He nodded his thanks to the girl as he and Donna both stood to leave, grateful for her patience on a busy weekend morning.
“Peter, I need to make a stop,” Donna said, pointing in the direction of the loo. “I’ll just be a minute.”
He nodded and smiled at her. “I’ll step outside to wait for ye. It’s gettin’ busy and I’m sure they’d appreciate the table back,” he said, scooping up the forgotten photos and stuffing them back into his pocket. His smile grew into a grin as Donna impulsively kissed his cheek before threading her way across the crowded room.
He stepped outside onto the high road, looking up and down the street at the early morning shoppers who were beginning to appear. Stuffing his hands deeply into his coat pockets, he rocked back on his heels and peered through the window as he searched for Donna. He sighed in relief with a slight smile as his hand closed around the photo he’d kept secret for so long for no reason. He’d won out against her past. She’d consciously chosen him. This Doctor Smith, this ghost, whoever he was, he was just that: pale and insubstantial and gone from her life. He might inconveniently flicker into view occasionally, but he was no rival for her affections.
Just then, Donna emerged from the restaurant and looked around, grinning widely when she found him. She marched straight up to him and took his face in her hands, standing up on tiptoe to kiss him soundly, nibbling slightly at his bottom lip. He laughed aloud and pulled her flush against him, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around her securely as he breathed her in. When he opened his eyes again, Peter let out a quiet snort of amusement.
"I suspect our overt display of affection has scandalized at least one member of the general public," he murmured into her hair as he tucked her under his arm and started off down the street.
"What?" Donna demanded, frowning in confusion.
"That tall man across the street in the unseasonably warm greatcoat,” Peter replied, and Donna grinned as she noted that her Policeman didn’t so much as incline his head in the offended party’s direction, his body language betraying nothing to an observer. “The look of shock on his face was priceless.”
Donna, however, didn’t care one whit what the man might think. ”Where?” she demanded, whirling about to see, but it was too late. He'd already melted away into the crowd. "What did he look like?"
"I dunno," Peter lied. She narrowed her eyes and poked at his ribs and with a laugh, he relented. ”6 feet, early to mid-forties, shortish dark hair, longer in the front- maybe dyed,” he mused wickedly before continuing. “Rugged good looks like a model from one of those glossy Sunday inserts, chin cleft and a bit of swagger to his step. I noticed him just before ye came out because he looked like he was about to say somethin’,” Peter mused. “Ringin’ any bells?”
“Not even a wind chime,” she admitted before turning her face up to him. “But the way you describe him, I’d wager he’s rung a few bells in his time,” she added with a giggle at the look of mock-horror that crossed her lover’s face.
“Ms. Noble, the things ye say!” he cried, pretending to be scandalized and leaning in to kiss her again. They were both too preoccupied to see the swirl of a long, dark blue coat as it disappeared around the opposite corner.
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 10 | Part 15 | Part 20.1 | Part 25 | Part 30
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Co-Captain of this Ship: WhosInTheAttic, but all errors are mine alone.
First Mate: The lovely serenityslady has officially joined the crew. Thanks for the support and suggestions!
Rating: PG for Plot Galore
Word Count: 3,280
Disclaimer: Donna and Peter- not mine, but in my mind. Apparently, guilt is a good motivator, as Peter started talking to me as soon as I blamed the tardiness of my recent posting on him.
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 10 | Part 15 | Part 20.1 | Part 25 | Part 30
June 16, 2012 9:00 AM, BST
“Sooooo,” Donna said, chewing her lip pensively, “what’s the skinny, Policeman? What could you possibly have to tell me that’s made you so unsettled that you had to drag me out in public to do it?” She cocked her head to the side and studied Peter, noting the faint colour that rose in his cheeks. “Come on, how bad could it be? I mean, I already know I was a PA to some UNIT expert Something-or-Other who specialized in Little Green Men, and you figure I was the victim of some Black Ops agency who goes about willy nilly wiping the memories of troublesome people who’ve seen too much,” she said, wiggling her fingers about on either side of her face and rolling her eyes. “What’s left for me to have been doing during my missing time? Toppling oppressive regimes? Averting natural disasters? Being abducted by an alien?” She pushed the remains of her breakfast to the side of the table and pulled her mug in front of her, toying with the handle for a moment before looking back up at him.
Misinterpreting Donna’s nervous movements, the waitress came by and offered,” Can I get you two anythin’ else, then?” She smiled as Donna looked questioningly at Peter, then shook her head. “No, I think we’re fine, thanks,” she replied.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” the girl replied said as she laid the bill down and cleared the empty plates from the table before moving away through the busy dining room.
When the waitress was out of earshot, Peter leaned an elbow on the table and fixed her with a serious glare. “Donna,” he huffed, running his hand through his hair, exasperated at her flippancy, “when ye say it that way, of course it sounds completely daft, but that doesnae change the facts. When ye’ve eliminated the impossible, what remains…
“I know Peter, I know, and it’s not that I don’t believe you, but really? Me?” she said with a shrug. “When you consider all this happening to me, it is a bit far fetched. There has to be a simple explanation for all this, right?”
Peter nodded once with a resigned frown. “We know ye were with Doctor Smith durin’ the Burning Sky Incident and that UNIT was involved,” he said reasonably as he pulled out a stack of pictures from his coat pocket and laid them on the table between them. He tapped his finger on the clearest image first, the one of Donna, smiling and dangling an empty binder, surrounded by uniformed men with Doctor Smith by her side. “And from the beginnin’, I was reasonably sure that these were of ye as well,” he added, fanning out the rest of the pictures on the table before her.
“I’ve seen these before, Peter,” Donna reminded him slowly. “I didn’t remember them the first time, and I don’t remember them now.”
He studied her openly as if trying to memorize the moment, then looked away, ducking his head and running his hand through his hair again with a sigh.
“Policeman?” she asked quietly, his unease beginning to worry her. “What is it?”
He scratched at the back of his neck before he spoke. “Donna, I told ye before, there’s one more image I want ye to see. Well, no exactly want ye to see, but ye need to see. And then, we need to talk,” he said quietly.
“And here’s me thinkin’ we were doin’ that already,” she teased. When he offered only a half-hearted smile in return, she sobered a bit, then tried unsuccessfully to hide her mounting anxiety. “That sounds ominous,” she said, half playful, half serious.
“No, no ominous, but it is important,” he reassured her. “Ye need to see this. It may hold some of the answers ye need.” He held out his hand and smiled at her encouragingly, but his smile was at odds with the flicker of apprehension she saw in his eyes.
As she began to reach across the table, Donna had a premonition, a flash-forward for the briefest of moments and she knew without knowing how that this event was both inevitable and inexorable. She had to see whatever Peter didn’t want to show her. She had to hear whatever Peter didn’t want to say. Afterwards, nothing would ever be the same. They had reached a turning point and she could see their futures dancing before her, every possible permutation of happily-ever-after shimmering side by side with every conceivable tragic ending. Before she could so much as draw a breath, colors without names burst before her eyes, obscuring her vision and overwhelming her with their strangeness. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear her eyes of the subtle shades that engulfed her, refracting and reflecting in patterns never before seen on earth, coalescing into a swirling chaos that centered around them both. She saw all of time and space stretching away to infinity and the enormity of it all threatened to obliterate her. Just as Donna realized with dismay that she was lost, drowning in forever, Peter’s fingers brushed hers, blessedly warm and human and as quickly as it began, it ended. At the touch of his hand on hers, she forgot.
“Donna?” he whispered as he used his free hand to pull one picture out away from the others. “Love, just look.” She blinked again and stared up at him in confusion. “Please?” he begged, his voice breaking, and he swallowed before continuing. “I cannae pretend any longer. This is ye together with him, isnae it?”
Reluctantly, Donna tore her eyes away from him. As she looked down at the picture he pushed across to her, she stopped breathing and her world slid sideways. The picture was a bit grainy and off center, but there was no mistaking the subjects captured therein. In a deserted stairwell of some unknown building, Doctor Smith held her in a bone-crushing embrace and was grinning in obvious delight. Donna’s own face was hidden from the cameras by the curtain of her hair, but there was no mistaking her posture as she enthusiastically returned his embrace.
Peter saw the moment Donna slipped from the present and hovered on the fringes of her past. She pulled her hands away from him without knowing it and to his consternation, for the first time in weeks, Donna’s right hand strayed to the ring finger of her left hand as a single tear streaked down her cheek. At her reaction, his heart dropped, seeing his worst fears seemingly confirmed.
Donna swallowed without realizing it, her breathing ragged and her head spinning. She could hear that blasted, beautiful, frustratingly-familiar atonal song again, the one she couldn’t even hum. Just as she started to panic, his hand was on hers, pulling her back from the brink and he shifted so that he was sitting beside her. She turned blindly to him. “Peter, I…” she stammered. “I…I don't remember.” She picked up the photo with a trembling hand, then shook her head. “I don't remember this, I don't remember him, I don't ... “ she mumbled frantically.
Her eyes grew wide and she shook her head, biting her lip as vague memories aligned with the evidence in her hand. “Oh, God, Peter... I knew him. I knew him…,” she realized. “Oh, it all makes sense. That's why …" Tears sprang to her eyes and she looked at the ceiling, unable to go on.
Peter wanted to say something to comfort her, but for the first time with Donna, the words refused to come. Instead he squeezed her hand gently and waited for her to continue.
“That night, at my mum’s house… He ... he went out of his way to say goodbye and I was so rude. I didn't mean to be. I was on the phone and I just didn't think. And when Veena finally rang off, the look on his face... he looked just like a kicked puppy or somethin’. He knew me and I just...,” she rambled on in explanation. She looked desperately at the man beside her as if he could absolve her of her sin. “I reckoned I'd just apologize the next time he came ‘round, but I never saw him again.”
“An’ that’s why ye started so violently that night ye first saw me. Ye thought ye had finally found him, nearly two years on,” he murmured, looking down at their hands so she couldn’t see his eyes as he twined his fingers with hers.
“Smith, Smith, Smith,” she muttered under her breath, still lost in recollection and missing the note of sadness in his voice. “That’s never his real name.” She clutched at her hair in frustration, her head spinning, and she felt unaccountably warm as the sun came out from behind the morning clouds and filled the little booth she shared with her policeman. “It’s maddenin’, Peter. His name is on the tip of my tongue but it just keeps slippin’ away. I couldn't say it if my life depended on it,” she cried, even as she became aware of a sweet, musical sighing, almost as if someone nearby was softly singing.
“Why can't I remember?” she begged, turning to face him fully.
Peter swallowed and glanced away, his lips compressed into a hard, thin line. He tried to hide it, but Donna saw the sudden, subtle tension in his jaw and she reached out for him, intending to ask him what was wrong as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. He glanced back, meeting her curious gaze once more before averting his eyes, but it was enough. She had seen. Peter was angry and deeply ashamed of it, she realized belatedly. He was humiliated by the jealously that filled him, which threatened at any moment to overflow and overwhelm his larger purpose, but for her sake, he was trying to be a better man.
Her heart went out to him and at the same time, she realized that her frustration was just a reflex. The deep, burning need for her past was gone, the hole in her heart filled in. Donna was done with drifting through life; she was tired of being the woman who waited, marking time and waiting for her life to begin. She wanted something more to hold onto than vague, unsettling snatches of recollection, and she was ready to do something about it.
“Peter,” she said quietly, “How long? How long have you had this picture?”
“A while now,” he admitted, still examining their hands.
“Why not show me this before?” she pressed.
Peter chewed his lip pensively. “I didnae like what I saw,” he finally admitted.
“What’s happened?” she persisted, intent on teasing out the truth. “Why the change of heart?”
He turned her hand in his, cradling it and covering it with his other hand. “I realized,” he began slowly, before leaning back and sighing heavily, rubbing at his eyes. “I realized I was bein' a selfish git,” he confessed. “I want to be honest, an I want ye to be happy, even if it’s no with me,” he finished in a wretched voice. He ventured to look up then, meeting her gaze and he frowned slightly, sucking in air between his teeth before fixing his eyes on a spot just above her head.
“Peter, there's something I want you to do for me,” Donna said as she reached over to gently lay a hand on his face and bring his eyes back to hers. “Will you?”
“Of course,” he replied without hesitation. “Ye've but t' ask.”
“I want you to stop. Stop lookin’ into my past,” she said with a conviction that surprised them both.
“What?” he asked, appalled. “Why?”
“Don’t. Just don’t,” she replied, caressing his cheek. “I’m not interested in lookin’ for what I lost anymore 'cos I've found all I need and everythin’ I could ever want.” She smiled gently at him, hoping he could see the truth of her words in her eyes.
“But Donna, we’re so close-“ he protested.
“No, Peter. Hear me out. Before I met you, I didn’t see a future, so I was obsessed with findin’ out about my past. I was frightened and alone, but I don’t feel that way anymore,” she told him seriously. “You reminded me that I have worth, regardless of what my mum thinks,” she added ruefully. “I’m still workin’ on believin’ it, mind, but with you around, it gets easier every day.”
“Donna-“ he tried again, but she cut him off before he could continue.
“And I’m glad I took on this long-term assignment at C&G. I’ve started to make friends there, and I can see my contributions makin’ a difference in the office. I’ve become a ‘valued employee’,” she chuckled, making air quotes around the term, “but honestly, I only did it to be closer to where you work ‘cos I wanted to see more of you.”
“Donna,” he said, awkwardly scratching his head before being silenced by her raised eyebrow. She waited until he capitulated with a resigned shrug, tiny smiles forming on both their lips but for different reasons.
“Peter, somehow, everythin’ good that’s happened to me lately is all down to you,” she finally admitted with a bashful smile, looking up at him through lowered lashes.
“I think yer overstatin’ the matter a bit, Donna. I-“ he started again, but she refused to let him downplay his role in her life.
“Peter, I’d given up before you. I didn’t think I’d ever love again. I didn’t think I deserved it,” she admitted quietly, before offering him a giddy smile.
Peter shook his head in automatic denial, but Donna continued.
“Well, then, look at it this way,” she said soberly. “No one from my past ever bothered to try and find me or anythin’. I’m still in the same city. I didn’t change my name when I married. My mum and granddad still live in the same place. This picture?” She waved a hand at it dismissively. “I don’t know what was happenin’, but this Doctor Smith? He knows where I am. He was at-my-house,” she said, stabbing the image decisively, “and in all this time, he’s never once tried to contact me. I obviously didn’t matter much to him,” she finished, her tone matter-of-fact.
“Then the man’s a fool,” Peter replied hotly before he took a deep, calming breath. “Donna,” he offered more charitably, “did it no occur to ye that perhaps he wanted t’ find ye but was prevented from doin’ so? Maybe Torchwood got to him as well?”
“Peter, love, you’re either a hopeless romantic or you’ve seen too many spy movies,” she laughed, leaning in to kiss him. “What, you think he and I were lovers, separated by destiny? That stuff doesn’t happen, not in real life.”
“But Donna,” he tried once more, “I promised ye I’d look into yer past, to find-”
“And you’ve kept your promise,” she interrupted. “Peter, my past? It doesn’t matter, and knowin’ what happened to me wouldn’t change a thing. I want you to stop. Stop lookin’. I’ve already found my happiness,” she said with a tender kiss. “I’m good. Are we good?”
He smiled back at her, the first genuine smile he’d managed since entering the restaurant, he realized. “Better than good- we’re great.” He leaned in again and brushed his lips across the back of her hand.
Donna glanced up at him and caught sight of their waitress, belatedly realizing that the girl was making her third discreet circle back to where they were seated. She reached into her bag just as Peter saw the bill on the table and he waved her gesture away as he pulled out his wallet. “It’s my pleasure,” he said, discomfited, realizing how long they’d been tying up the table and fishing out enough to cover their meal and leave their server a generous gratuity. He nodded his thanks to the girl as he and Donna both stood to leave, grateful for her patience on a busy weekend morning.
“Peter, I need to make a stop,” Donna said, pointing in the direction of the loo. “I’ll just be a minute.”
He nodded and smiled at her. “I’ll step outside to wait for ye. It’s gettin’ busy and I’m sure they’d appreciate the table back,” he said, scooping up the forgotten photos and stuffing them back into his pocket. His smile grew into a grin as Donna impulsively kissed his cheek before threading her way across the crowded room.
He stepped outside onto the high road, looking up and down the street at the early morning shoppers who were beginning to appear. Stuffing his hands deeply into his coat pockets, he rocked back on his heels and peered through the window as he searched for Donna. He sighed in relief with a slight smile as his hand closed around the photo he’d kept secret for so long for no reason. He’d won out against her past. She’d consciously chosen him. This Doctor Smith, this ghost, whoever he was, he was just that: pale and insubstantial and gone from her life. He might inconveniently flicker into view occasionally, but he was no rival for her affections.
Just then, Donna emerged from the restaurant and looked around, grinning widely when she found him. She marched straight up to him and took his face in her hands, standing up on tiptoe to kiss him soundly, nibbling slightly at his bottom lip. He laughed aloud and pulled her flush against him, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around her securely as he breathed her in. When he opened his eyes again, Peter let out a quiet snort of amusement.
"I suspect our overt display of affection has scandalized at least one member of the general public," he murmured into her hair as he tucked her under his arm and started off down the street.
"What?" Donna demanded, frowning in confusion.
"That tall man across the street in the unseasonably warm greatcoat,” Peter replied, and Donna grinned as she noted that her Policeman didn’t so much as incline his head in the offended party’s direction, his body language betraying nothing to an observer. “The look of shock on his face was priceless.”
Donna, however, didn’t care one whit what the man might think. ”Where?” she demanded, whirling about to see, but it was too late. He'd already melted away into the crowd. "What did he look like?"
"I dunno," Peter lied. She narrowed her eyes and poked at his ribs and with a laugh, he relented. ”6 feet, early to mid-forties, shortish dark hair, longer in the front- maybe dyed,” he mused wickedly before continuing. “Rugged good looks like a model from one of those glossy Sunday inserts, chin cleft and a bit of swagger to his step. I noticed him just before ye came out because he looked like he was about to say somethin’,” Peter mused. “Ringin’ any bells?”
“Not even a wind chime,” she admitted before turning her face up to him. “But the way you describe him, I’d wager he’s rung a few bells in his time,” she added with a giggle at the look of mock-horror that crossed her lover’s face.
“Ms. Noble, the things ye say!” he cried, pretending to be scandalized and leaning in to kiss her again. They were both too preoccupied to see the swirl of a long, dark blue coat as it disappeared around the opposite corner.
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 10 | Part 15 | Part 20.1 | Part 25 | Part 30