An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 49
An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 49
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Rating: PGA for Plot Galore with a heavy seasoning of Angst throughout.
Word Count: 4,407
Disclaimer: Donna and Peter- not mine, but in my mind.
2016 has finally settled down and looks to be at least somewhat promising. As a result, I offer you this entry, with the promise of a Deleted Scene/DVD Extra/Director's Cut coming soon that would have made the current installment R rated. It just didn't fit the overall style of the story, but I'm in love with it and it will be ready for posting soon.
If anyone's still reading, thank you. As always, all mistakes are my own alone.
Part 1 | Part 10 | Part 20.1 | Part 30 | Part 40 | Part 45
Saturday, 28 July 2012, 3:35 AM
"Nice," Ian breathed in appreciation as Peter pressed his thumb to the print reader then punched in his passcode on the keypad beside the door. "Though getting in after a night out might prove to be a challenge."
"Ye can use a key, but the system still requires a thumbprint," Peter replied tersely. He waited for the audible snick of the disengaging lock before he dragged his thumb down the scanner, obliterating any print that might have been left behind as he pushed open the door and quickly scanned the room. He paused on the threshold, surprised to see every light in Donna’s flat blazing, despite the late hour. The DVD player was on and Peter was momentarily taken aback as onscreen, Father Ted patiently attempted to explain the correlation of relative distance and apparent size to an obviously confused Father Dougal. He spotted Donna's slightly tousled titan mane peeking up over the far end of the sofa and was relieved to find her wrapped up in a blanket where she could watch the door, had she still been awake.
"She just dropped off a few minutes ago,” a feminine voice made rough with lack of sleep said quietly off to his right and Peter jerked around to see Maddie leaning back against the kitchen counter, a blanket from the couch wrapped around her shoulders and a fresh mug of tea in her hand. Ian stepped around Peter and into the kitchen to take a visibly exhausted Maddie into his arms. She let loose a ragged sigh, snuggling deeper into his embrace before she dragged her eyes open again and fixed them on Peter. “She was determined to wait up for you."
“Maddie, how is she?” Peter whispered urgently, not waiting for Ian to loosen his hold on her. "What happened after we left?"
Maddie blinked and set her tea on the counter, turning in Ian’s arms to face Peter. “The George was going wild when the torch appeared and even more so when they got a good look at the torchbearer,” she explained, shifting uncomfortably before looking up to meet his eyes. “That man really did resemble you, you know, and everyone knew you’d dashed out for the stadium, and well, it was a natural assumption….” Maddie trailed off, her face scrunched up in recollection as Peter nodded in reluctant agreement.
"Go on," he urged and Maddie blinked, forcing herself back to the present.
“Anyway, Mairead hugged Donna, thinking it was you with the torch but Donna? She set Mairead straight in an instant. She insisted the torchbearer wasn’t you, but Dr. Smith and then she dropped like a stone- but only for a moment,” Maddie tacked on hastily in response to Peter’s horrified expression. "I tried to call for the paramedics, but Donna was having none of that,” she explained, craning her head to look behind him to the couch where her friend was beginning to stir. She dropped her voice to a near whisper before continuing. "She snatched my phone right out of my hand and told the operator it was a false alarm."
“Aye?” Peter murmured wearily, sniffing and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Count yerself lucky. Her reaction was a bit more vehement the time I called the ambulance service after she passed out."
Maddie frowned as she considered his words. “Peter, Donna didn’t really pass out. She never lost consciousness,” she explained. "It was more like she was struck with a sudden headache, or, or a migraine. It didn’t last long, but she was…I don’t know….left drained by the experience?” She nodded decisively, pursing her lips as she considered her description. "Yes. That’s it. She was drained,” she declared. It was like when you go to sleep, but you either wake too soon or sleep too long. You know how you wake, feeling groggy and disorientated and you have a headache? That’s how she acted.”
"And there were no other symptoms? No sudden fever or…” Peter prompted, shaking his head and watching her carefully, unwilling to lead his witness by mentioning the unnatural, ethereal lights he’d witnessed emanating from Donna during previous attacks.
“No,” Maddie responded without hesitation. “No, I helped her to her feet. She was dazed and unsteady, but she didn’t feel warm or anything.” Maddie watched Peter process the information, puzzling at the grim pall that settled over his fine features. He paused, clearly debating, then stepped closer, his voice dropping into an urgent whisper.
"Did she say anythin’ unusual? Anythin’ a’tol?” he demand, his expression both desperate and desolate. “Anythin’ bout runnin’ or about bein’ left behind? Did she say anythin’ about hearin’ strange singin’?" He chewed his lip anxiously, glancing over his shoulder as Donna shifted on the sofa behind them. “Did she wring her hands, act like she was lookin’ for a ring?"
“No, Peter, no. Nothing like that,” Maddie replied, struggling to remember. She chanced a quizzical glance at Ian and his eyes widened sadly in response.
“Somethin’ about midnight then, at a library? Or about roses?" Peter persisted, stepping a bit closer to touch her arm, his eyes dark and intense. "Did she say anythin' about knownin’ Dr. Smith?”
“No. She didn’t have time,” Maddie said decisively. "He appeared on screen, you rang off and she went down."
Peter exhaled heavily and stepped back, thrusting one hand roughly through his hair. He remembered himself and nodded his thanks to Maddie as he started for the living room but his progress was arrested by a soft hand graced with a dazzling ring.
“Peter, before you wake her, you should know,” Madeline warned gravely. "There was a bit of drama with her friend, Nerys, just after you left."
“Friend?” Peter snorted in disdain. “What sort of drama d’ye mean?"
"Mairead and I stepped away from the table to talk and give Donna space to recover. I know the George is your regular haunt and that Donna must have friends there, so I didn’t think anything of it when Nerys sat down at the table, though I could tell Mairead wasn’t best pleased,“ Maddie explained with a wry twist to her lips. "Nerys and Donna ended up having a ferocious row, and I heard your name at least once."
"My name?” Peter asked, his attention diverted by the soft noises coming from the living room behind him. Donna’s head disappeared entirely as she twisted in her sleep and Peter had to force himself to concentrate on Maddie again. "What was the argument about?"
"I’ll let Donna tell you. I wasn’t near enough to hear it all, and besides, it’s not my place,” Maddie demurred. “But I will tell you this: whatever was said, it wasn’t pretty, and from what little I did hear, Donna gave twice as good as she got.” Ian’s arms tightened around her and she closed her eyes, leaning back gratefully against his chest. She frowned thoughtfully. "Actually, now that I think of it, Donna acted as though she felt much better after, at least until we made ready to leave,” Maddie added, slightly surprised at the recollection.
Peter looked over to Ian, a frown creasing his face as he Maddie’s words registered. “Until ye left? What happened then?” Just as he was about to launch into another volley of questions, a familiar voice drifted in from the living room.
“Peter?” Donna mumbled as she turned over. “Policeman? Is that you?"
“Aye, a chuisle, right here,” he called, moving quickly to her side. “I’m sorry we’re so late, but-“
The rest of his apology was lost as Donna sprang from her makeshift bed in a flurry and threw her arms around him. Then, just as abruptly and much to Maddie’s surprise, she pulled away and delivered a resounding smack to Peter's arm. Maddie glanced up at Ian who merely shrugged philosophically, having witnessed firsthand the sound and fury that was Donna Noble when roused to anger.
“That’s for scaring me nearly half to death, Detective Dumbo!” Donna cried indignantly, her chin trembling as she fought back a sob. “What the bloody hell were you thinkin’?!?"
“Donna, I-“ Peter began, reaching out to her, but to no avail. She swatted his hands away and planted herself firmly before him, standing nearly toe to toe.
"Runnin’ off like that and then you hang up and don't bother callin’ me back!” Donna complained emphatically, stabbing her finger at his chest. “Not one bloody word from you for six hours, eighteen minutes and thirty-four seconds!” She clenched her hands into fists and whirled away in an impressive display of restraint to keep herself from punching him soundly in the jaw before whipping back around, advancing upon him once more. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be left behind like that, Peter Carlisle? Not knownin’ what’s happened to you? Not knowin' if you’re alive or dead?” she raged, all but tearing at her own hair in despair. “And here I sit, waitin’ all this time, afraid to call or text you for fear your mobile will go off in the middle of somethin’ and you’ll end up hurt or-or-or dead, and it’ll all be my fault?!?” Donna cried, nearly vibrating in indignation. "You’re the one who keeps tellin’ me how dangerous you think my life before was, and then you go off and… and… and…,” she hiccuped, her anger dissolving in the wake of her relief at seeing him again.
In the midst of her tirade, Peter had gone strangely quiet, his hands held still at his sides. From the kitchen, temporarily forgotten in the storm, Maddie puzzled over the vaguely neutral expression he wore as he waited for Donna's fury to break. “Mo gradh, I’m sorry,’ he murmured softly. "I’m fine. A chuisle mo chroí, I’m here.” He slowly lifted his arms, opening them wide, and simply waited.
Donna hesitated, vacillating between laying him out with a punch or or a kiss. In the end, she did neither. “Oh, Peter,” she cried, flinging herself at him and hugging him tightly. “Don’t you ever even think of doin' anythin’ like that to me again!” She pushed herself away to look up into his eyes. "Are you…Did you….What happened?” Her hands fluttered over his arms and chest as she spoke, as if to assure herself that he was real and not just an insubstantial dream, ready to slip from her grasp. "Where’s Maddie? Where’s Ian?” she demanded, her eyes darting around madly.
“In the kitchen, Donna,” Maddie called, raising a mug. “Just making a cuppa and getting a biscuit for Ian. Should I get some for you?”
Donna nodded, relaxing fractionally as she saw the two of them stood together in the kitchen. “Oh, yes, please. I’m nearly gaspin’,” she replied, seemingly calm though her hands still trembled on Peter's arms. "Policeman?” she tried to ask casually, though the quaver in her voice betrayed her when she looked into his eyes.
“Uh…aye, right,” Peter stammered as his train of thought was unexpectedly derailed. “Tea and biscuits, yeah.” He blinked, suddenly remembering the hour and closing his eyes as the first ragged wave of exhaustion washed over him. “Make it three.”
“Of course,” Maddie replied, pointing Ian to the cabinet for more mugs.
When Maddie turned away, Donna’s lowered her voice to a near whisper and began to pepper Peter with more questions. "What happened at the stadium? Was everyone OK?” she demanded. "That running bloke, Farewell or Fairweather or whatever, was he all right?”
Still in the kitchen, Maddie breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad that’s over,” she murmured, leaning against Ian as she waited for the kettle to boil. “She was trying hard to hide it, but Donna was worried sick while the two of you were gone.“
"I wouldn’t count on that being quite the end of it, Maddie,” Ian replied, tucking her under his arm and looking over her head to where Peter stood, doing his best to calm his agitated lover. His gaze swept methodically over the room, making mental note of Maddie’s jacket and bag on the rack near the door and he offered up a sanguine smile when he realized Maddie was aware of his actions. “Peter hasn’t had his say in all this yet,” he explained, playing with a stray lock of her hair, “though judging from his reaction, he does seem to have learned something from their last spat.” Ian eased the errant strands back into place as Maddie chanced a quick glance at their friends before returning to the tea.
“Everythin’s fine, we’re all fine,” Peter crooned, instinctively reaching up with both hands to smooth Donna's hair away from her face. “We’re all fine, aye?” He was inordinately relieved when she didn’t flinch away and he closed his eyes and drew her close, kissing her in an attempt to ground them both in the moment. At the touch of his lips, settled into him with a sigh, until recent events came crashing back.
“But Policeman, I saw- then you rang off, but I- and then, he-“ Donna spluttered, pushing herself away from him and gesturing wildly but always managing to keep one hand firmly planted on his chest.
“I know, I know,” Peter murmured. “Be calm, a chuisle. Just catch yer breath." He folded her back into his arms, and waited for her frenetic movements to settle. When she finally relaxed and began to breathe normally, he spoke again. ‘’Everyone is OK, but, Donna, I’m sorry, I… I’m sorry,” he declared, his voice low and heavy with regret. "Doctor Smith, he…he got away.”
He watched carefully as Donna’s face went strangely blank and something behind her eyes shifted and changed, becoming somehow alien and positively ancient. She looked beyond him, her forehead crinkling as she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. His gaze shot to her hands, but they remained still on his arms.
"Not surprisin',” she murmured, closing her eyes and slipping into the past, even as he desperately tried to draw her nearer. “He always was one to do a runner.” A single tear welled up and sat trembling at the corner of her eye and as it spilled over, Peter gritted his teeth. Donna swayed slightly but righted herself almost at once, splaying both hands against him and pushing herself back once more to arm’s length. She frowned immediately, shaking her head and leaning back into him, her right hand steady over his heart while her left ranged fitfully across the other side of his chest.
Peter’s jaw tightened as her awareness skittered away from the present but he remained outwardly calm. “Tell me what ye’re rememberin', Donna,” he breathed, fighting the urge to brush the tear from her cheek and chance breaking her trance. Her left hand continued to flitter back and forth across his chest until it settled beside her right hand, cupped protectively over his heart. Donna felt his single heartbeat beneath her hands, strong and true, and Peter watched as she relaxed into a beatific smile. “Donna, keep yer eyes closed an’ tell me what ye remember,” he coaxed, letting his voice guide her back to the present.
“Remember?” Donna echoed, shaking her head and blinking rapidly. She focused on her hands, then fixed Peter with a puzzled frown. “Remember what? What are you on about, Policeman?”
“Ye just said Dr. Smith wasnae above bunkin’ off when it suited him,” Peter responded more brusquely than he intended.
“I didn’t,” Donna declared. She eyed him as if he were mad, but then her expression fell slightly. She cocked her head to the side and frowned, biting her lip in consternation. “I didn’t….did I?” she repeated uncertainly.
“Ye did,” he insisted, grasping her arms. "D’ye remember he where would go? What was the protocol ye were to follow when compromised?” Peter persisted, his eyes dark and intense. “May be that I can still find h- "
“Peter, please, don’t do this," Donna interrupted, laying her hand back on his chest. She was dismayed to feel the rhythm under her palm quicken and she realized she could see his pulse pounding in a vein at his neck. “Peter, please, I told you. Just leave it,” she urged him gently, caressing his cheek and looking up into his eyes. "Just let it go.”
“No, no this time. I cannae,” he said flatly. “This time, yer Dr. Smith, he broke the law."
He stared resolutely at Donna, and just as determinedly, she refused to look away. “What?” she squawked in surprise, taking a step back and peering at Peter indignantly. “My doc-?“
“Dinnae argue with me, Donna,” he continued in a growl, forestalling her anticipated argument. “His actions have made it my duty. The man has brought this down upon himself, it’s no my doin’!"
She blinked at him in astonishment, taken aback at the stinging vehemence in his words before recovering sufficiently to launch her counterattack. "Lightin' the Olympic torch when the torchbearer is incapacitated is a crime now?” she challenged.
“No,” he corrected her almost petulantly, “but impersonatin' an officer of the law is."
“What!?!” Donna exclaimed, her eyes widening in sudden understanding. “That’s how he escaped?”
“Aye,” Peter spat back.
"He said he was you?” she demanded breathlessly.
“Yes!”
“He…he used your name?” she clarified, pointing at him in dismay.
“Well, no exactly…,” Peter admitted with reluctance.
In the kitchen, Maddie stood agape at the unexpected turn the conversation had abruptly taken as Ian eased a forgotten mug of tea from her grasp and placed it noiselessly in the sink.
“Exit, pursued by a bear,” he murmured in her ear, earning himself a perplexed look. He nodded in the direction of the two soon-to-be combatants and then smiled at her, moving to unobtrusively gather up her discarded belongings. Maddie looked from Ian back to Donna and Peter stood in the living room, not wanting to intrude but reluctant to leave without a proper goodbye. She watched as Peter all but writhed on the spot, scratching at his neck and grimacing at his own words.
“What is it, then?” Donna demanded, hands on hips. “Just what exactly did he do that made it imperative that you track him down now? And - If he did somethin’ wrong, and I’m not sayin’ that picking’ up somethin’ someone else has dropped and completin’ a task for an injured man qualifies as a high crime or a misdemeanor- why do you have to be the one huntin’ him?"
“Donna, I'm a Detective Inspector with the Metropolitan Police Force," Peter flung back hastily. "As he fled the scene, he let on like he was me. He insinuated that -"
“He. In. Sin-U-Ated,” Donna said emphatically, punctuating each syllable with a forceful jab at the air.
Maddie still gaped in horror at the train wreck occurring before her as Ian slipped the blanket from her shoulders and replaced it with her jacket, skirting her around the kitchen in a surreptitious attempt to reach the door unobserved.
"Aye,” she heard Peter snap defensively. “He encouraged the misidentification and did nothin'-"
“So what you’re sayin’, Policeman, and by all means, correct me if I’m wrong,” Donna cried broadly, throwing her hair back over her shoulder with obvious irritation, “is that it’s his fault that the officers on duty - it’s his fault that they assumed that he was you, yeah?"
“Of course,” Peter snarled back. “When they addressed him, he should ha-"
"Well, then,” Donna interrupted, hands on her hips, peering at him through narrowed eyes, “All he’s guilty of is having the audacity to resemble you, is that it? Cos according to you, he didn’t even say your name! He probably doesn’t even know you exist and you’re ready to arrest him for simple spatial genetic multiplicity!” She crossed her arms over her chest theatrically and tilted her head back in order to peer down her nose at him. "That’s hardly fair, don’t you think?”
“Spacial genetic….what in hell does that even mean?!?” he bellowed, stalking away before whirling back to face her. “And ye? I cannae believe yer takin’ his side in this! After all he’s done to ye, and ye’re protectin’ him!”
Ian eased the door open and silently ushered Maddie through. “I think it’s best that we leave them to it, don’t you?” he murmured after he'd managed to maneuver the door shut behind them.
“Do you think that’s wise?” Maddie whispered doubtfully. “They’re both bloody furious."
“They need to work this out, and it will go better, I think, without an audience,” Ian reasoned. “I’ve seen them like this before. They’ll rage at each other awhile and then it’ll be done.” He held out his hand for hers as he started down the stairs. "Let’s come not between the dragon and his wrath."
“I feel terrible, though, leaving like that. I’m going to have to call in the morning to apologize,” Maddie said, casting one last glance back up the stairs at the shadows flickering on the glass beside Donna’s door.
“I’m sorry, Maddie, for having to run off tonight. Truly I am,” Ian said as Maddie fought a losing battle against a jaw-cracking yawn. "Let me make it up to you. I’ll take you home and then, tomorrow, we’ll have dinner together, somewhere nice. Anywhere you like. Your choice.”
“Shut it, you,” she said fondly with a weary smile. "I knew what I was saying yes to when I agreed to marry you."
“Yes, you did,” Ian replied, his smile widening as he gripped her hand a bit tighter. “You know what life with a police detective can be like."
"I just wonder if Donna does,” she worried aloud, looking around for Ian’s car as they reached the street. A sudden jerk of her head put Ian on high alert as Maddie gasped aloud, pointing into the darkness to her right.
“What is it?” Ian demanded, whirling her deftly behind him as he faced the spot she indicated with a steady hand.
"Did you see him?” she cried, clutching at Ian’s arm as she peered out from behind him. "Standing in the shadows there? He was watching us. It was him, the same man, I know it!"
“Who?” Ian asked, nonplussed. “Who are you talking about? I don’t see anyone."
“I’m sure it was him,” Maddie insisted, twisting out of his grasp to walk directly into the gloom. “That tourist."
"What tourist?” Ian demanded from close behind her. “Who are you talking about?”
“Hello? Hello!” she called into the night before swinging back to face Ian with a muttered curse. “I swear it was him! The one who held the cab for us, tonight, at the George!” Maddie exclaimed in frustration, pivoting on her heel and searching fruitlessly for any movement in the shadows.
“Maddie, are you sure you saw someone? It’s only that it’s late and you’re tired, and there’s no one there now,” Ian explained, letting her circle him one last time. She huffed in frustration, blowing her fringe up and out of her eyes before allowing Ian to lead her to his car parked at the kerb.
“Maybe you’re right, but I could have sworn….” she trailed off thoughtfully and sighed. "When we were leaving the George, Donna had a sudden, severe migraine,” Maddie explained as Ian opened the door and waited for her to climb inside. She watched him make his way around and when he slid into the driver’s seat, she continued. “She was fine just after that fight with her friend, but as we got ready to go, the closer we got to the door, the more ill she looked. She tried to play it off, but when she stepped out of doors, her headache doubled her over and she could barely walk.”
“I’m glad you were there to help her home,” Ian remarked as he readied to pull out into the street.
“Oh, I was just thankful for the man who stepped out of the cab and held it for us,” Maddie said, stifling another yawn. “Honestly, his timing was spot on. It couldn’t have been more perfect if he’d planned it. I mean, just as I opened the door for us to leave, that American tourist -“
“What did you just say?” Ian snapped, jerking back to look at her curiously.
“There was an American tourist getting out of a cab in front of the George. Luckily, he noticed that Donna wasn’t feeling well and held the car for us, that’s all,” Maddie explained, eyeing him warily as she replied.
“What makes you say he was American?” Ian persisted, swiveling in his seat to face her completely.
“Well, when he paid the cabbie, his accent was unmistakeable-” she began.
“What did he look like?” Ian interrupted, unclenched his hands from the strangle hold he belatedly realized he had on the steering wheel. “Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”
“Uh, maybe?” Maddie replied with a shrug. "I mean, yeah, he was a bit nice to look at, but I didn't really see his face clearly. I was too busy with Donna to pay much attention to him. He held the door so I could bundle Donna in, then closed the door behind us. That was the last I saw of him.”
Ian nodded and put the car in gear, finally pulling away from the kerb and turning onto the high street. He turned the events of the night over and over in his mind, trying to make all the disparate parts fit into a coherent whole. Just when he resolved to let it all lie until morning, his thought were interrupted by a titanic yawn from Maddie.
"It must have been his first visit abroad,” she added, apropos of nothing, "what with his unseasonable attire.”
Ian could feel the blood freeze in his veins, but he promised himself that he wouldn’t visibly react as Maddie adjusted her seat and lay back, stretching out her legs and rubbing at her eyes. "Why do you say that?” he asked, carefully modulating his voice.
“Well, the poor man obviously didn’t realize it actually gets warm here in the summer,” Maddie replied wearily. "I remember thinking he must have been broiling in that greatcoat,” she finished with one last yawn as she snuggled into her jacket and finally let sleep claim her.
Part 1 | Part 10 | Part 20.1 | Part 30 | Part 40 | Part 45
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Rating: PGA for Plot Galore with a heavy seasoning of Angst throughout.
Word Count: 4,407
Disclaimer: Donna and Peter- not mine, but in my mind.
2016 has finally settled down and looks to be at least somewhat promising. As a result, I offer you this entry, with the promise of a Deleted Scene/DVD Extra/Director's Cut coming soon that would have made the current installment R rated. It just didn't fit the overall style of the story, but I'm in love with it and it will be ready for posting soon.
If anyone's still reading, thank you. As always, all mistakes are my own alone.
Part 1 | Part 10 | Part 20.1 | Part 30 | Part 40 | Part 45
Saturday, 28 July 2012, 3:35 AM
"Nice," Ian breathed in appreciation as Peter pressed his thumb to the print reader then punched in his passcode on the keypad beside the door. "Though getting in after a night out might prove to be a challenge."
"Ye can use a key, but the system still requires a thumbprint," Peter replied tersely. He waited for the audible snick of the disengaging lock before he dragged his thumb down the scanner, obliterating any print that might have been left behind as he pushed open the door and quickly scanned the room. He paused on the threshold, surprised to see every light in Donna’s flat blazing, despite the late hour. The DVD player was on and Peter was momentarily taken aback as onscreen, Father Ted patiently attempted to explain the correlation of relative distance and apparent size to an obviously confused Father Dougal. He spotted Donna's slightly tousled titan mane peeking up over the far end of the sofa and was relieved to find her wrapped up in a blanket where she could watch the door, had she still been awake.
"She just dropped off a few minutes ago,” a feminine voice made rough with lack of sleep said quietly off to his right and Peter jerked around to see Maddie leaning back against the kitchen counter, a blanket from the couch wrapped around her shoulders and a fresh mug of tea in her hand. Ian stepped around Peter and into the kitchen to take a visibly exhausted Maddie into his arms. She let loose a ragged sigh, snuggling deeper into his embrace before she dragged her eyes open again and fixed them on Peter. “She was determined to wait up for you."
“Maddie, how is she?” Peter whispered urgently, not waiting for Ian to loosen his hold on her. "What happened after we left?"
Maddie blinked and set her tea on the counter, turning in Ian’s arms to face Peter. “The George was going wild when the torch appeared and even more so when they got a good look at the torchbearer,” she explained, shifting uncomfortably before looking up to meet his eyes. “That man really did resemble you, you know, and everyone knew you’d dashed out for the stadium, and well, it was a natural assumption….” Maddie trailed off, her face scrunched up in recollection as Peter nodded in reluctant agreement.
"Go on," he urged and Maddie blinked, forcing herself back to the present.
“Anyway, Mairead hugged Donna, thinking it was you with the torch but Donna? She set Mairead straight in an instant. She insisted the torchbearer wasn’t you, but Dr. Smith and then she dropped like a stone- but only for a moment,” Maddie tacked on hastily in response to Peter’s horrified expression. "I tried to call for the paramedics, but Donna was having none of that,” she explained, craning her head to look behind him to the couch where her friend was beginning to stir. She dropped her voice to a near whisper before continuing. "She snatched my phone right out of my hand and told the operator it was a false alarm."
“Aye?” Peter murmured wearily, sniffing and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Count yerself lucky. Her reaction was a bit more vehement the time I called the ambulance service after she passed out."
Maddie frowned as she considered his words. “Peter, Donna didn’t really pass out. She never lost consciousness,” she explained. "It was more like she was struck with a sudden headache, or, or a migraine. It didn’t last long, but she was…I don’t know….left drained by the experience?” She nodded decisively, pursing her lips as she considered her description. "Yes. That’s it. She was drained,” she declared. It was like when you go to sleep, but you either wake too soon or sleep too long. You know how you wake, feeling groggy and disorientated and you have a headache? That’s how she acted.”
"And there were no other symptoms? No sudden fever or…” Peter prompted, shaking his head and watching her carefully, unwilling to lead his witness by mentioning the unnatural, ethereal lights he’d witnessed emanating from Donna during previous attacks.
“No,” Maddie responded without hesitation. “No, I helped her to her feet. She was dazed and unsteady, but she didn’t feel warm or anything.” Maddie watched Peter process the information, puzzling at the grim pall that settled over his fine features. He paused, clearly debating, then stepped closer, his voice dropping into an urgent whisper.
"Did she say anythin’ unusual? Anythin’ a’tol?” he demand, his expression both desperate and desolate. “Anythin’ bout runnin’ or about bein’ left behind? Did she say anythin’ about hearin’ strange singin’?" He chewed his lip anxiously, glancing over his shoulder as Donna shifted on the sofa behind them. “Did she wring her hands, act like she was lookin’ for a ring?"
“No, Peter, no. Nothing like that,” Maddie replied, struggling to remember. She chanced a quizzical glance at Ian and his eyes widened sadly in response.
“Somethin’ about midnight then, at a library? Or about roses?" Peter persisted, stepping a bit closer to touch her arm, his eyes dark and intense. "Did she say anythin' about knownin’ Dr. Smith?”
“No. She didn’t have time,” Maddie said decisively. "He appeared on screen, you rang off and she went down."
Peter exhaled heavily and stepped back, thrusting one hand roughly through his hair. He remembered himself and nodded his thanks to Maddie as he started for the living room but his progress was arrested by a soft hand graced with a dazzling ring.
“Peter, before you wake her, you should know,” Madeline warned gravely. "There was a bit of drama with her friend, Nerys, just after you left."
“Friend?” Peter snorted in disdain. “What sort of drama d’ye mean?"
"Mairead and I stepped away from the table to talk and give Donna space to recover. I know the George is your regular haunt and that Donna must have friends there, so I didn’t think anything of it when Nerys sat down at the table, though I could tell Mairead wasn’t best pleased,“ Maddie explained with a wry twist to her lips. "Nerys and Donna ended up having a ferocious row, and I heard your name at least once."
"My name?” Peter asked, his attention diverted by the soft noises coming from the living room behind him. Donna’s head disappeared entirely as she twisted in her sleep and Peter had to force himself to concentrate on Maddie again. "What was the argument about?"
"I’ll let Donna tell you. I wasn’t near enough to hear it all, and besides, it’s not my place,” Maddie demurred. “But I will tell you this: whatever was said, it wasn’t pretty, and from what little I did hear, Donna gave twice as good as she got.” Ian’s arms tightened around her and she closed her eyes, leaning back gratefully against his chest. She frowned thoughtfully. "Actually, now that I think of it, Donna acted as though she felt much better after, at least until we made ready to leave,” Maddie added, slightly surprised at the recollection.
Peter looked over to Ian, a frown creasing his face as he Maddie’s words registered. “Until ye left? What happened then?” Just as he was about to launch into another volley of questions, a familiar voice drifted in from the living room.
“Peter?” Donna mumbled as she turned over. “Policeman? Is that you?"
“Aye, a chuisle, right here,” he called, moving quickly to her side. “I’m sorry we’re so late, but-“
The rest of his apology was lost as Donna sprang from her makeshift bed in a flurry and threw her arms around him. Then, just as abruptly and much to Maddie’s surprise, she pulled away and delivered a resounding smack to Peter's arm. Maddie glanced up at Ian who merely shrugged philosophically, having witnessed firsthand the sound and fury that was Donna Noble when roused to anger.
“That’s for scaring me nearly half to death, Detective Dumbo!” Donna cried indignantly, her chin trembling as she fought back a sob. “What the bloody hell were you thinkin’?!?"
“Donna, I-“ Peter began, reaching out to her, but to no avail. She swatted his hands away and planted herself firmly before him, standing nearly toe to toe.
"Runnin’ off like that and then you hang up and don't bother callin’ me back!” Donna complained emphatically, stabbing her finger at his chest. “Not one bloody word from you for six hours, eighteen minutes and thirty-four seconds!” She clenched her hands into fists and whirled away in an impressive display of restraint to keep herself from punching him soundly in the jaw before whipping back around, advancing upon him once more. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be left behind like that, Peter Carlisle? Not knownin’ what’s happened to you? Not knowin' if you’re alive or dead?” she raged, all but tearing at her own hair in despair. “And here I sit, waitin’ all this time, afraid to call or text you for fear your mobile will go off in the middle of somethin’ and you’ll end up hurt or-or-or dead, and it’ll all be my fault?!?” Donna cried, nearly vibrating in indignation. "You’re the one who keeps tellin’ me how dangerous you think my life before was, and then you go off and… and… and…,” she hiccuped, her anger dissolving in the wake of her relief at seeing him again.
In the midst of her tirade, Peter had gone strangely quiet, his hands held still at his sides. From the kitchen, temporarily forgotten in the storm, Maddie puzzled over the vaguely neutral expression he wore as he waited for Donna's fury to break. “Mo gradh, I’m sorry,’ he murmured softly. "I’m fine. A chuisle mo chroí, I’m here.” He slowly lifted his arms, opening them wide, and simply waited.
Donna hesitated, vacillating between laying him out with a punch or or a kiss. In the end, she did neither. “Oh, Peter,” she cried, flinging herself at him and hugging him tightly. “Don’t you ever even think of doin' anythin’ like that to me again!” She pushed herself away to look up into his eyes. "Are you…Did you….What happened?” Her hands fluttered over his arms and chest as she spoke, as if to assure herself that he was real and not just an insubstantial dream, ready to slip from her grasp. "Where’s Maddie? Where’s Ian?” she demanded, her eyes darting around madly.
“In the kitchen, Donna,” Maddie called, raising a mug. “Just making a cuppa and getting a biscuit for Ian. Should I get some for you?”
Donna nodded, relaxing fractionally as she saw the two of them stood together in the kitchen. “Oh, yes, please. I’m nearly gaspin’,” she replied, seemingly calm though her hands still trembled on Peter's arms. "Policeman?” she tried to ask casually, though the quaver in her voice betrayed her when she looked into his eyes.
“Uh…aye, right,” Peter stammered as his train of thought was unexpectedly derailed. “Tea and biscuits, yeah.” He blinked, suddenly remembering the hour and closing his eyes as the first ragged wave of exhaustion washed over him. “Make it three.”
“Of course,” Maddie replied, pointing Ian to the cabinet for more mugs.
When Maddie turned away, Donna’s lowered her voice to a near whisper and began to pepper Peter with more questions. "What happened at the stadium? Was everyone OK?” she demanded. "That running bloke, Farewell or Fairweather or whatever, was he all right?”
Still in the kitchen, Maddie breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad that’s over,” she murmured, leaning against Ian as she waited for the kettle to boil. “She was trying hard to hide it, but Donna was worried sick while the two of you were gone.“
"I wouldn’t count on that being quite the end of it, Maddie,” Ian replied, tucking her under his arm and looking over her head to where Peter stood, doing his best to calm his agitated lover. His gaze swept methodically over the room, making mental note of Maddie’s jacket and bag on the rack near the door and he offered up a sanguine smile when he realized Maddie was aware of his actions. “Peter hasn’t had his say in all this yet,” he explained, playing with a stray lock of her hair, “though judging from his reaction, he does seem to have learned something from their last spat.” Ian eased the errant strands back into place as Maddie chanced a quick glance at their friends before returning to the tea.
“Everythin’s fine, we’re all fine,” Peter crooned, instinctively reaching up with both hands to smooth Donna's hair away from her face. “We’re all fine, aye?” He was inordinately relieved when she didn’t flinch away and he closed his eyes and drew her close, kissing her in an attempt to ground them both in the moment. At the touch of his lips, settled into him with a sigh, until recent events came crashing back.
“But Policeman, I saw- then you rang off, but I- and then, he-“ Donna spluttered, pushing herself away from him and gesturing wildly but always managing to keep one hand firmly planted on his chest.
“I know, I know,” Peter murmured. “Be calm, a chuisle. Just catch yer breath." He folded her back into his arms, and waited for her frenetic movements to settle. When she finally relaxed and began to breathe normally, he spoke again. ‘’Everyone is OK, but, Donna, I’m sorry, I… I’m sorry,” he declared, his voice low and heavy with regret. "Doctor Smith, he…he got away.”
He watched carefully as Donna’s face went strangely blank and something behind her eyes shifted and changed, becoming somehow alien and positively ancient. She looked beyond him, her forehead crinkling as she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. His gaze shot to her hands, but they remained still on his arms.
"Not surprisin',” she murmured, closing her eyes and slipping into the past, even as he desperately tried to draw her nearer. “He always was one to do a runner.” A single tear welled up and sat trembling at the corner of her eye and as it spilled over, Peter gritted his teeth. Donna swayed slightly but righted herself almost at once, splaying both hands against him and pushing herself back once more to arm’s length. She frowned immediately, shaking her head and leaning back into him, her right hand steady over his heart while her left ranged fitfully across the other side of his chest.
Peter’s jaw tightened as her awareness skittered away from the present but he remained outwardly calm. “Tell me what ye’re rememberin', Donna,” he breathed, fighting the urge to brush the tear from her cheek and chance breaking her trance. Her left hand continued to flitter back and forth across his chest until it settled beside her right hand, cupped protectively over his heart. Donna felt his single heartbeat beneath her hands, strong and true, and Peter watched as she relaxed into a beatific smile. “Donna, keep yer eyes closed an’ tell me what ye remember,” he coaxed, letting his voice guide her back to the present.
“Remember?” Donna echoed, shaking her head and blinking rapidly. She focused on her hands, then fixed Peter with a puzzled frown. “Remember what? What are you on about, Policeman?”
“Ye just said Dr. Smith wasnae above bunkin’ off when it suited him,” Peter responded more brusquely than he intended.
“I didn’t,” Donna declared. She eyed him as if he were mad, but then her expression fell slightly. She cocked her head to the side and frowned, biting her lip in consternation. “I didn’t….did I?” she repeated uncertainly.
“Ye did,” he insisted, grasping her arms. "D’ye remember he where would go? What was the protocol ye were to follow when compromised?” Peter persisted, his eyes dark and intense. “May be that I can still find h- "
“Peter, please, don’t do this," Donna interrupted, laying her hand back on his chest. She was dismayed to feel the rhythm under her palm quicken and she realized she could see his pulse pounding in a vein at his neck. “Peter, please, I told you. Just leave it,” she urged him gently, caressing his cheek and looking up into his eyes. "Just let it go.”
“No, no this time. I cannae,” he said flatly. “This time, yer Dr. Smith, he broke the law."
He stared resolutely at Donna, and just as determinedly, she refused to look away. “What?” she squawked in surprise, taking a step back and peering at Peter indignantly. “My doc-?“
“Dinnae argue with me, Donna,” he continued in a growl, forestalling her anticipated argument. “His actions have made it my duty. The man has brought this down upon himself, it’s no my doin’!"
She blinked at him in astonishment, taken aback at the stinging vehemence in his words before recovering sufficiently to launch her counterattack. "Lightin' the Olympic torch when the torchbearer is incapacitated is a crime now?” she challenged.
“No,” he corrected her almost petulantly, “but impersonatin' an officer of the law is."
“What!?!” Donna exclaimed, her eyes widening in sudden understanding. “That’s how he escaped?”
“Aye,” Peter spat back.
"He said he was you?” she demanded breathlessly.
“Yes!”
“He…he used your name?” she clarified, pointing at him in dismay.
“Well, no exactly…,” Peter admitted with reluctance.
In the kitchen, Maddie stood agape at the unexpected turn the conversation had abruptly taken as Ian eased a forgotten mug of tea from her grasp and placed it noiselessly in the sink.
“Exit, pursued by a bear,” he murmured in her ear, earning himself a perplexed look. He nodded in the direction of the two soon-to-be combatants and then smiled at her, moving to unobtrusively gather up her discarded belongings. Maddie looked from Ian back to Donna and Peter stood in the living room, not wanting to intrude but reluctant to leave without a proper goodbye. She watched as Peter all but writhed on the spot, scratching at his neck and grimacing at his own words.
“What is it, then?” Donna demanded, hands on hips. “Just what exactly did he do that made it imperative that you track him down now? And - If he did somethin’ wrong, and I’m not sayin’ that picking’ up somethin’ someone else has dropped and completin’ a task for an injured man qualifies as a high crime or a misdemeanor- why do you have to be the one huntin’ him?"
“Donna, I'm a Detective Inspector with the Metropolitan Police Force," Peter flung back hastily. "As he fled the scene, he let on like he was me. He insinuated that -"
“He. In. Sin-U-Ated,” Donna said emphatically, punctuating each syllable with a forceful jab at the air.
Maddie still gaped in horror at the train wreck occurring before her as Ian slipped the blanket from her shoulders and replaced it with her jacket, skirting her around the kitchen in a surreptitious attempt to reach the door unobserved.
"Aye,” she heard Peter snap defensively. “He encouraged the misidentification and did nothin'-"
“So what you’re sayin’, Policeman, and by all means, correct me if I’m wrong,” Donna cried broadly, throwing her hair back over her shoulder with obvious irritation, “is that it’s his fault that the officers on duty - it’s his fault that they assumed that he was you, yeah?"
“Of course,” Peter snarled back. “When they addressed him, he should ha-"
"Well, then,” Donna interrupted, hands on her hips, peering at him through narrowed eyes, “All he’s guilty of is having the audacity to resemble you, is that it? Cos according to you, he didn’t even say your name! He probably doesn’t even know you exist and you’re ready to arrest him for simple spatial genetic multiplicity!” She crossed her arms over her chest theatrically and tilted her head back in order to peer down her nose at him. "That’s hardly fair, don’t you think?”
“Spacial genetic….what in hell does that even mean?!?” he bellowed, stalking away before whirling back to face her. “And ye? I cannae believe yer takin’ his side in this! After all he’s done to ye, and ye’re protectin’ him!”
Ian eased the door open and silently ushered Maddie through. “I think it’s best that we leave them to it, don’t you?” he murmured after he'd managed to maneuver the door shut behind them.
“Do you think that’s wise?” Maddie whispered doubtfully. “They’re both bloody furious."
“They need to work this out, and it will go better, I think, without an audience,” Ian reasoned. “I’ve seen them like this before. They’ll rage at each other awhile and then it’ll be done.” He held out his hand for hers as he started down the stairs. "Let’s come not between the dragon and his wrath."
“I feel terrible, though, leaving like that. I’m going to have to call in the morning to apologize,” Maddie said, casting one last glance back up the stairs at the shadows flickering on the glass beside Donna’s door.
“I’m sorry, Maddie, for having to run off tonight. Truly I am,” Ian said as Maddie fought a losing battle against a jaw-cracking yawn. "Let me make it up to you. I’ll take you home and then, tomorrow, we’ll have dinner together, somewhere nice. Anywhere you like. Your choice.”
“Shut it, you,” she said fondly with a weary smile. "I knew what I was saying yes to when I agreed to marry you."
“Yes, you did,” Ian replied, his smile widening as he gripped her hand a bit tighter. “You know what life with a police detective can be like."
"I just wonder if Donna does,” she worried aloud, looking around for Ian’s car as they reached the street. A sudden jerk of her head put Ian on high alert as Maddie gasped aloud, pointing into the darkness to her right.
“What is it?” Ian demanded, whirling her deftly behind him as he faced the spot she indicated with a steady hand.
"Did you see him?” she cried, clutching at Ian’s arm as she peered out from behind him. "Standing in the shadows there? He was watching us. It was him, the same man, I know it!"
“Who?” Ian asked, nonplussed. “Who are you talking about? I don’t see anyone."
“I’m sure it was him,” Maddie insisted, twisting out of his grasp to walk directly into the gloom. “That tourist."
"What tourist?” Ian demanded from close behind her. “Who are you talking about?”
“Hello? Hello!” she called into the night before swinging back to face Ian with a muttered curse. “I swear it was him! The one who held the cab for us, tonight, at the George!” Maddie exclaimed in frustration, pivoting on her heel and searching fruitlessly for any movement in the shadows.
“Maddie, are you sure you saw someone? It’s only that it’s late and you’re tired, and there’s no one there now,” Ian explained, letting her circle him one last time. She huffed in frustration, blowing her fringe up and out of her eyes before allowing Ian to lead her to his car parked at the kerb.
“Maybe you’re right, but I could have sworn….” she trailed off thoughtfully and sighed. "When we were leaving the George, Donna had a sudden, severe migraine,” Maddie explained as Ian opened the door and waited for her to climb inside. She watched him make his way around and when he slid into the driver’s seat, she continued. “She was fine just after that fight with her friend, but as we got ready to go, the closer we got to the door, the more ill she looked. She tried to play it off, but when she stepped out of doors, her headache doubled her over and she could barely walk.”
“I’m glad you were there to help her home,” Ian remarked as he readied to pull out into the street.
“Oh, I was just thankful for the man who stepped out of the cab and held it for us,” Maddie said, stifling another yawn. “Honestly, his timing was spot on. It couldn’t have been more perfect if he’d planned it. I mean, just as I opened the door for us to leave, that American tourist -“
“What did you just say?” Ian snapped, jerking back to look at her curiously.
“There was an American tourist getting out of a cab in front of the George. Luckily, he noticed that Donna wasn’t feeling well and held the car for us, that’s all,” Maddie explained, eyeing him warily as she replied.
“What makes you say he was American?” Ian persisted, swiveling in his seat to face her completely.
“Well, when he paid the cabbie, his accent was unmistakeable-” she began.
“What did he look like?” Ian interrupted, unclenched his hands from the strangle hold he belatedly realized he had on the steering wheel. “Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”
“Uh, maybe?” Maddie replied with a shrug. "I mean, yeah, he was a bit nice to look at, but I didn't really see his face clearly. I was too busy with Donna to pay much attention to him. He held the door so I could bundle Donna in, then closed the door behind us. That was the last I saw of him.”
Ian nodded and put the car in gear, finally pulling away from the kerb and turning onto the high street. He turned the events of the night over and over in his mind, trying to make all the disparate parts fit into a coherent whole. Just when he resolved to let it all lie until morning, his thought were interrupted by a titanic yawn from Maddie.
"It must have been his first visit abroad,” she added, apropos of nothing, "what with his unseasonable attire.”
Ian could feel the blood freeze in his veins, but he promised himself that he wouldn’t visibly react as Maddie adjusted her seat and lay back, stretching out her legs and rubbing at her eyes. "Why do you say that?” he asked, carefully modulating his voice.
“Well, the poor man obviously didn’t realize it actually gets warm here in the summer,” Maddie replied wearily. "I remember thinking he must have been broiling in that greatcoat,” she finished with one last yawn as she snuggled into her jacket and finally let sleep claim her.
Part 1 | Part 10 | Part 20.1 | Part 30 | Part 40 | Part 45