An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 39
An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 39
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Co-Captain of this Ship: WhosInTheAttic, for getting me started on this, 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 GaloreWord Count: 2,545 (Measley for me, but we've already established that brevity is not the soul of my wit.)
Disclaimer: Donna and Peter- not mine, but in my mind. I've decided to give up on the whole .1, .2 foolishness. Some of my chapters are long. Some of them are short(er). I'm just gonna have to learn to deal with it.
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 10 | Part 15 | Part 20.1 | Part 25 | Part 30 | Part 35.1
Saturday, June 30- 10:30 AM
"Thanks, Phil, really. You are amazin'," Donna said, waving goodbye. As she shut the front door, she bit her lip and grinned, looking over her shoulder at Peter. "So, what do you think, Policeman?" she asked giddily, spinning around and launching herself towards him as soon as she heard the garden gate close behind the retreating architect. Peter barely had time to open his arms in time to catch her before she whirled around and caught him by the hand, dragging him towards the stairs.
Peter laughed, infected by her enthusiasm, and followed Donna up the tight spiral staircase to the second floor. Looking around, he had to agree with Donna's assessment- Phil had done miracles with the unfinished space above Donna’s flat in the span of two weeks. Most of the hard wood flooring remained intact, but the large open space had been subdivided into long rooms running the perimeter of the building. The front room had been converted into a light, spacious office with a desk tucked into one of the high dormer windows that overlooked the park. The other window still contained his favorite reading nook, but for all that, if he hadn't known better, he wouldn't have known they were in the same flat.
The interior walls were paneled halfway up with reclaimed flooring and were topped with large double-paned windows that looked out onto a corridor. The glass-enclosed passageway wrapped around a large atrium situated at the heart of the building. The well-appointed space featured a small square fountain, a cosy dining area just big enough for four and was planted throughout with potted flowers and herbs. Peter stepped inside and looked up to see a transparent louvered ceiling that could be opened to the sky or closed against the elements, depending on the season. He mentally traced the alarm wires, tastefully hidden in the reinforced metal frame down to the security cameras tucked into the corners of the corridor. Owing to the glass walls, there was virtually nowhere for an intruder to hide, even if one were to somehow make his way inside.
Donna watched Peter scrutinize the space again as he slowly turned in place, absorbing all the practical details and nodding his satisfaction before he turned back to her. “It’s beautiful, Donna. Truly,” Peter said as he bent to trail a finger in the water. "What was the inspiration for the design, if I might inquire?"
Donna’s cheeks coloured and she smiled self-consciously. “Don’t laugh, Policeman, but, I saw somethin’ like this when I visited Pompeii,” she admitted hesitantly, moving alongside him to take his hand. “I went on this tour and I visited a house and it had a space just like this. I know how daft it sounds, but I was bowled over by the strangest sense of deja vu.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning back to him with a shrug. "There was just somethin’ about the place. I dunno what it was, precisely, but I aways wanted an atrium like it myself ever after."
"It’s lovely," he said, uncharacteristically subdued, and Donna noticed his smile stopped short of his eyes.
“You don’t like it?” she asked, squeezing his hand gently as her own smile faltered.
“No, course I do,” Peter told her, stepping close to clasp her around the waist. “It’s amazin’ what you’ve done here.” When he lifted a hand to push her hair away from her face, Donna blinked twice and gave a tiny, involuntary start as his fingertips brushed her temple. It was over in less than a moment, a flickering frame of time, but Peter’s face registered his concern.
“So why the face like a wet weekend?” Donna breathed, coming back to herself and leaning away to study his expression, playfully flicking his fringe.
As an experiment, Peter brushed her hair back again and this time, Donna merely cocked her head with a quizzical quirk of her lips. He looked into her eyes for as long as he could before he averted his gaze. He pressed the tip of his tongue to the back of his top teeth and began to toy with her hair, winding one ginger lock absently about his finger.
“I find that I’ve grown accustomed to your presence in my abode, and in my life,” he slowly confessed. “I've enjoyed knowin’ I was goin’ home to someone…. No, strike that,” he corrected with a sweetly bashful shake of his head. "I've enjoyed knowin’ I was comin’ home to ye every night. I’d been thinkin’ that, maybe, I might ask ye to st…” He broke off, then hauled an apologetic smile in place. “But seein’ this?” he admitted ruefully. He looked down at his feet, remembering his father’s dismissal of his prospects when he announced his intention to become a detective instead of a doctor. "Donna, I cannae give ye the moon and the stars, as much as ye deserve them.”
Donna's heart seized when she realized what he might be trying to say. She took him by the hand and gently led him out of the atrium and into the front office, stopping in the center of the room. “Peter,” she said slowly. “This is for you. This is your office, if you want.” She laid a hand on his cheek and lifted his eyes up to hers. "It's why I had Phil convert the other window seat into a desk, so you could look out over the park while you work. My office's the one over there,” she said, pointing to the adjacent room. When she turned back to him, Peter was startled by the the vivid blue of her eyes and he saw the sparkle of tears there as she continued. “Peter, I don’t need the moon and the stars. Don’t you know that you’re the center of my universe? I don’t need anythin’ else."
"Donna, I cannae-“ he began until she laid a restraining finger on his lips.
“Just hear me out, Policeman. I was gonna save this ’til we’d been goin’ out a bit longer, just to keep my mum from makin’ rude comments, but who am I kiddin’?” Donna said, throwing her hair back over her shoulder with a sad, defiant smile. “She’s gonna make ‘em anyway. This'll make her happy, though, in her own way," Donna considered. "She'll have somethin' to kick up a fuss about with her mates."
“Donna, are ye…?” Peter breathed as the implications of her words came clear. “Are ye askin’ me to…?”
“Move in, cohabit, 'live in sin',” Donna said, rolling her eyes and making air quotes around the last phrase with a giggle. She reached up and lightly smacked his forehead. “Prawn! Why d’you think I had Phil register your thumbprint in the alarm system, too, when we came in?”
“So I could open the door?” he replied with a wondering shake of his head.
“Yes, you big numpty! Every time you came home from work!” she laughed. She sobered suddenly, biting her lip for a moment before she continued. "Of course, I thought you might want to keep your flat, at least for a bit, and maybe let it out as an investment?” She looked up at him through her fringe and Peter realized she was hedging her bets with her cautious framing of the invitation.
“Or I could put it on the market tomorrow, sell it and move in here straight away,” he said, without hesitation. He pulled her to him again and Donna’s eyes fluttered shut as he kissed her slowly, thoroughly and with great care. Peter leaned back and smiled, then let out a resigned sigh. “But I shouldnae,” he murmured, disappointment coloring his voice.
“Why?” she asked, suddenly sure that he absolutely should.
"Strategically, that wouldnae be the wisest course of action at this time," he explained. "We’ve been going out nearly three months now-"
"It's been 72 days, 19 hours, 29 minutes and... 42 seconds...,”she drawled, consulting the nonexistent wristwatch she wasn’t wearing, “since I walked into Maison Blanc to meet you for the first time." She grinned at him and cocked her head, waiting for his response.
It was Peter's turn to blink before he broke into a blinding grin. "Ten weeks, then," he laughed. “Ten weeks of perfect bliss," he continued and Donna really did try to land a punch to his shoulder at that bit of hyperbole. He caught her hand easily and brought it to his lips. "Donna, I would move in right now, with nary a regret and never look back, save for one thing,” he said gravely.
“Which is?” she prompted as Peter laid his hands on her shoulders.
“Yer mum,” he replied, gazing directly into her eyes.
“What? What’s my mum got to do with anything?” Donna asked in confusion.
"She's already convinced that I’m only after yer money, that I'm some type of gigolo, and that I'll leave ye at the first opportunity,” he insisted. "I want to prove that my intentions are honorable and that I plan to be a part of yer life as long as ye'll have me."
"And?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow in invitation to continue.
"And I hardly think she'll give my assertions to the contrary any credence if I were to move in so brazenly. It’s important to our future that she accepts me, even if she never likes me,” he said with an offhand, unconvincing shrug.
“I don’t care what my mum says, Policeman,” Donna replied firmly.
“Aye, but I do. She’s yer mum. I’ll no have our relationship be a point of contention between the two of ye, at least no without makin’ an effort at peace.” Donna opened her mouth to protest and it was Peter’s turn to silence her with a finger. "We’ll continue on as we’ve been for a bit longer. At six months, in September, I’ll officially move in. That’ll give me time to pack up and start moving over a little at a time and to put the flat on the market. More importantly, it’ll give your mum time to adjust to the idea, to acclimate herself to the idea of me bein’ a permanent addition to yer life."
“Peter, I love you. And regardless of what you decide, no matter if it's a week or a month or a year from now, I'll only love you more," Donna said, stepping closer and resting her forehead against his. “It’s just like what they say in the movie, 'When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.’ “ Donna watched a slow, sweet smile of understanding spread across his face and rejoiced as the tiny little lines at the corners of his eyes finally appeared.
“Words to live by,” he agreed, then leaned back and looked down at her curiously. "Which movie would that be, then?” he asked.
"Oh, stop teasin' me, Copper," she laughed, pulling him towards the stairs. “Come on. I’m hungry and you're buyin'. "
“Lunch is my treat, then," he agreed, " but sorry. I still donae know the film."
“Oh, you know," she snorted, rolling her eyes. "At the end of When Harry Met Sally?”
"I cannae say that I do,” he admitted. "I’ve not seen it.”
“Really?” she drawled in surprise, stopping on the stairs to regard him sharply to see if he was having her on.
“Really, really,” he admitted with a smile.
“Oh. My. God! You haven’t seen When Harry Met Sally? Well, that’s one thing we’re gonna fix as soon as possible,” she laughed as she continued down the stairs. "It’s one of my favorite movies. It’s a romantic comedy about two long-time friends who finally figure out they were meant to be more than just mates.” She scooped up her bag and her keys and Peter watched with satisfaction as she paused by the door, punching in her alarm code and then activating the system with her thumb print. "You’ll love it.
“I’m sure,” he replied, reaching out his hands and wiggling his fingers in invitation. Donna slipped her hand into his and they headed down the back stairs for the street below. “The next time we decide to stay in, ye can rectify the appalling gap in my cultural literacy and bring me up to speed on the romantic comedy genre.”
“Where were ye thinkin' to go for lunch?” Peter asked casually as they reached the corner.
“Did you want to try-,” Donna began, trailing off as she stopped mid-stride, looking right and left in confusion. She turned quickly around, searching the streets, and squeezed his hand tightly.
Peter was instantly alert, pulling her close and looking about warily. “Donna,” he asked urgently, “what is it?"
“He’s here,” she hissed, her eyes wide with fear. She clutched her stomach and closed her eyes as a wave of nausea passed through her. “Peter, he’s here. I can feel it, he’s here!” she panted, unable to catch her breath properly.
“Who is, Donna?” he demanded, his eyes scanning the park across the street and finding nothing out of the ordinary. “What is it?"
"Somethin’s not right, I can feel it,” she persisted, stumbling back but keeping a firm grip on his hand. Peter felt her tremble as she continued to look wildly about but when his eyes met hers again, he saw the fear there had begun to turn to fury. "We’re bein’ watched! He… he’s here somewhere. It’s that bastard from S&G,” she fumed. “He’s followed me!” She staggered and nearly fell just as Peter lunged forward and caught her.
“Donna, love, look. Look around. There’s no one here,” he murmured as he folded his arms around her. “Look!”
She screwed her eyes shut against the sensation as the surge of queasiness broke and she could finally breathe properly again. She ducked her head, resting against Peter for a moment before she stood straight and scanned the nearly empty streets again, one hand splayed across Peter’s chest for stability. She hunted the street for the source of her disquiet and when she was unable to locate it, Donna moaned quietly and fell back into his arms.
“You’re right, you’re right, oh, Peter, you’re right,” Donna breathed in relief. She shuddered in his arms and he tucked her head under his chin, whispering quiet words of comfort into her hair as he stroked her back. He glanced about one more time, still seeing nothing out of the ordinary, and just as he convinced himself that she was mistaken and began to relax, a slight movement high above the street caught his eye. Peter looked up at the Metro platform just in time to see a long, dark blue coat billow out, caught by the breeze from a passing train. He tightened his arm around Donna, stroking her hair gently with his other hand to keep her turned away just long enough to give the man in the RAF greatcoat time to step back into the shadows, but not before Peter’s eyes met a pair of ice blue eyes staring down at them unapologetically.
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 10 | Part 15 | Part 20.1 | Part 25 | Part 30 | Part 35.1