Time After Time Part 2
Title: Time After Time 2/Lots
Author: katherine_b
Rating: G
Summary: Have you ever wondered what happens to those the Doctor leaves behind?
Characters: Donna and Theta Sigma (One)
A/N A bit (okay, a lot!) of background information: So where did this story come from? (Apart from the treacherous maelstrom of my insane mine, of course…)
Basically, it's a result of a discrepancy that has always bothered me between the old and the new series. In The Sound of Drums the Doctor says that, at eight years old, children on Gallifrey look into the vortex and that his reaction to what he saw there was to run. And yet we're told in Old Who that he studied at the Academy on Gallifrey, only scraping a pass on his second attempt.
For those familiar with Old Who mythology, this is not the wife of the Other/the Doctor as mentioned in several TV episodes and various other DW stories. The Doctor, when we first meet him, is clearly an old man (age being the reason he regenerates for the first time), and later in his life he clearly remembers being a father (as mentioned in The Doctor’s Daughter). This is how I imagine the Doctor’s life might have gone and what could have given him a reason to leave Gallifrey.
But how does this link back to the Prologue? Is it 'reality'? What has happened to Donna? Ah, for those and other answers, you will have to wait and see!
Allons-y!
Chapter I
“Donna!”
The dark head that has been bent over a piece of torn material lifts up and Donna puts her mending aside.
“I'm in here,” she calls quietly, mentally projecting the knowledge of her location to the man who has just entered the house and glancing at the three sleeping children on the far side of the room before leaving the nursery.
Coming out onto the landing, she looks down to see the new arrival removing his coat and he glances in her direction with a smile, his deep-set eyes sparkling.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asks politely as she begins to descend the stairs.
“Are the children asleep?”
“Sir, it's two sextas since their normal bedtime!” she protests indignantly. “Of course they are! Your meeting at the Council finished awfully late tonight.”
He chuckles and removes the massive moulded collar around his neck, placing it on the hook by the door that hangs there for that purpose. The lack of that huge object behind his head seems to draw attention to his facial features, making his high forehead and the beginning of his receding hairline, as well as his long, straight nose, more obvious. His somewhat small chin seems far less noticeable when he smiles, as he is doing now as he holds open the sitting room door and nods for her to enter ahead of him.
“Join me for a drink,” he suggests.
“Of course, sir,” she agrees, sitting in the chair a short distance away from the glowing remains of the fire.
The man casts a look of amused frustration over his shoulder as he pours generous amounts of something alcoholic from a decanter into two glasses before crossing the room, holding one just out of her reach.
“Two epons as my secretary,” he complains, “and now six hectas taking care of my children since my wife died and you still can't call me Theta?”
She chuckles and takes the glass as he finally gives it to her. “Not in front of the children, sir,” she reminds him. “That was the directive you gave me when you asked me to live here.”
“The children aren't here,” he reminds her, settling into the armchair opposite her, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his ankles crossed. “So let me hear you say it. Theta Sigma.”
“Theta Sigma,” she repeats obediently, her lips quirking into a grin as she adds, “Is that better, sir?”
He visibly smothers a smile and rolls his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder how I put up with you, Donna.”
“I ask myself the same question,” she retorts with a chuckle, “if that's any comfort.”
They exchange grins before Theta takes out and lights his pipe as he begins talking about the business transacted at the council meeting. Donna listens politely, although much of what he's discussing is beyond her knowledge. She also keeps part of her mind alert for any disturbance from the nursery. Invariably one or other of the children will realise their father is home and come down to see him, but tonight they seem settled enough not to wake.
And when she leaves Theta sitting by the dying fire, his head filled with thoughts of his late wife, she checks on the children that she suspects are the only remaining ties that link him to Gallifrey,
Will is the eldest and only a few hectas away from going to the Academy. He is also the most like his father, with that man's distinctive features and, when he's awake, sparkling brown eyes. He's the student of the family, wanting nothing more than to succeed to his father's seat on the Council, which Theta was given when he returned to Gallifrey to raise a family with his wife. Will isn't aware that the offer of the job was given to Theta as much in an attempt to rein him in as because his time at the Academy meant he had earned it.
Janie and her twin bother Tom are only five epons old (or years, as Theta seems to like calling it, in honour, he once explained, of the divisions of time on a planet he once visited and rather liked). Janie is the epitome is of her mother, and Donna knows that has made it difficult for her father to spend time with her since that lady's death, but Janie is definitely something of a daddy's girl and has him wound around her finger.
Tom, whose physical appearance is a mixture of both his parents, tries to follow in Will's footsteps, but he doesn't have the patience to spend hours hunched over the many books in the home's library. He prefers to be out in the garden or trying to build things in his father's workshop.
Donna has adored these now-motherless children ever since she was appointed by the Council to work for Theta, and she didn't have to think twice when her boss asked her to add to her duties by caring for them.
Kissing each one softly, she lowers the nightlight to its dimmest level and then leaves the nursery, leaving the door that leads her to her own room standing slightly ajar.
More than once, she's woken up to find at least one of the children cuddled up beside her, and although Theta isn't too keen on it, Donna secretly adores it and wishes that it would happen almost every night.
* * *
“Daddy!”
Donna looks up from where she is tidying a pile of books to find Theta standing in the doorway, his two younger children clinging to his legs.
“How are you, Donna?” he asks as he swings Janie into his arms and gently guides Tom over to the small children's table and chairs in the corner.
“Fine,” she tells him, wondering at the distracted tone of his voice.
“Where's Will?”
“Out in the garden.” She sighs. “Saying goodbye to everything before he goes to the Academy tomorrow, I think.”
Theta chuckles. “I remember doing the same thing,” he says confidingly as Janie settles down on his lap to colour in a picture and Tom begins digging in the pile of books Donna is trying to tidy up, finally pulling back onto the floor those she has just managed to return to the shelves and settling on top of the huge pile of books to read the first story he rejected some sextas earlier when Donna first suggested it to him.
Rolling her eyes and ruffling the boy’s hair, for which she receives a cheeky grin, Donna crosses the room and pulls up another of the small chairs to sit beside Theta.
“Did you like the Academy?” she asks as she sharpens some of the coloured pencils for Janie to use.
“I had a lot of fun there,” he replies with a smile. “Made some wonderful friends. Friends I hope I'll keep forever. Didn't learn much though,” he adds with a sly smile. “I think my boy will probably shame me in that way, being so much more of a bookworm than I was at his age.”
“You like them now though. Books, that is,” Donna says, thinking that she rarely sees Theta without a book in his possession and knowing that it was he and not his wife who built up the extensive library in this house.
“Oh, yes,” he agrees. “But,” he adds honestly, “it took me far too long to appreciate their value. That's why I want these three to read at every opportunity.”
“They do, sir,” she reminds him, a little hurt at the implied suggestion that she would neglect such an important part of her charges' education.
“I know they do.” He smiles reassuringly at her. “I couldn't doubt it, Donna. They're always reading when I see them, and they know so many more stories than I did at that stage of my life.” For a moment he studies her in silence before speaking again, his voice soft. “Did you read many books before you came to the Academy?”
Her head snaps up from sharpening a sky-orange pencil and she stares at him. “You've never asked me about my life before that time before.”
“And I won't if you don't want to talk about it,” he promises. “But sometimes, the things you know, I can't help wondering...”
“I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, knowing how curious you are,” she admits slowly. “But - it's not something I tell people about.”
“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”
“I know.” She sighs, but can't help smiling a little. “You never make me do anything I don't want to, Theta, but you have a way of asking...”
“How come you never call my Daddy his name before?” Janie suddenly interrupts, looking up at her nanny with her head tilted to one side.
Donna exchanges startled and guilty looks with the man beside her before turning her attention back to the little girl.
“It was an accident, Janie,” she tells her in the end. “I won't do it again.”
“It was nice,” she says, returning her attention to her picture. “Like friends.”
“We are 'like' friends, baby,” her father assures his daughter, but his eyes are fixed on Donna. “We 'are' friends.”
* * *
“S'awfully quiet now,” Tom says suddenly from his prone position on the rich red grass, the twin mountains reaching for the orange sky behind him, nibbling on the remains of an apple core.
“Up here, d'you mean?” Donna asks, looking up from her book. “Or in general?”
“All the time.” Tom sighs.
“Since Will went away,” Donna finishes for him. “It won't be long until you're going, too.”
“I know!” Tom sits bolt upright and flings the core away. “But that's not yet, is it?”
“Only two epons until you do.”
“But then you go away.” Janie is hugging her legs, a mournful look on her face. “Don't you?”
“I don't know,” she replies honestly. “Maybe I could keep working for your father, like I did before.”
“We can but hope,” a new voice says, and the three people at the picnic turn to see Theta walking up the hill towards them, a cape around his shoulders and his favourite Panama hat on his head, leaning lightly on a cane. “May I join you?” he proposes when nobody responds to his comment.
“Of course!” Donna is about to get up and set up one of the small chairs they are sitting on to keep themselves off the ground when he holds up a hand to stop her.
“I can manage.” His eyes dance a little as he pulls over a chair. “I may be older than you, Donna, but I'm not quite decrepit yet.”
“I would never dare to suggest it,” she laughs as he settles in the seat, his cane leaning against his leg.
“Glad to hear it.”
He winks at her and then fishes in his pocket to pull out his pipe, filling it and lighting it. A few moments later, the smoke around them is filled with the delicate scent of his tobacco.
“Daddy?” Tom asks at this point.
“What is it, my boy?”
“You won't let Donna leave when we go to the Academy, will you?”
Donna can't help feeling a quiver of anxiety in the pit of her stomach as she waits for Theta's reply.
“I only wish I had that sort of power, Tom,” the boy's father replies slowly. “Unfortunately, once you and Janie have gone to the Academy, I won't have the right to determine what happens to Donna.”
“But you're on the Council!” Janie protests.
“There are a lot of people on the Council.” Theta sighs ruefully. “And that isn't an area over which I have any say, child.”
“Don't worry about it yet,” Donna puts it at this point. “It's still two epons until you both go to the Academy, and anything could happen in the meantime.”
“Donna's right,” Theta says before either of the children can speak. “Now run away, you two, and play. We'll have to go home soon.”
Somewhat laggingly, the twins leave the adults behind and head further down the hill. Once they're out of earshot, Theta turns to Donna.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.” Her response is prompt and honest. “I've loved the time I'm spent with you and your family, Theta, but after being handed from one member of the Council to another, being settled like this almost seems strange.” She raises her eyebrows at him. “After all the time you've spent away from Gallifrey, it must be weird for you, too.”
“Sometimes,” Theta admits. “Sometimes I do miss the travelling I did after I left the Academy. But I know I can't leave again. Not yet anyway.”
“You loved it so much though.” Donna glances at Theta out of the corner of her eye. “What brought you back here?”
He waves at the children chasing each other across the red grass further down the hill. “Them,” he says rather hoarsely. “My wife wouldn't hear of us bringing up our children - well, child, because the twins came later - anywhere except Gallifrey.” He swallows painfully. “She always promised that, once they were safely at the Academy, we would go off again, but...”
Theta trails off into silence, and Donna doesn't want to interrupt. She thinks for a moment about putting a comforting hand on his knee, but she's never been overly familiar with her boss and doesn't feel that this is the right moment to start.
The silence that descends between them is so complete that Donna can almost make out the words the twins are saying, and she can also hear the very faint cries of a bird wheeling around the peak of Solitude.
She doesn't feel the need to say anything though.
That's one of the things she likes most about Theta. Although they have long conversations about almost any subject under the suns, they can also sit in silence for sextas without it feeling uncomfortable.
And in the end, it's Theta who speaks first.
“I suppose,” he says in the end, fixedly not meeting her gaze, “that that's one of the reasons I wouldn't push to keep you working for me. We both know that people who leave Gallifrey become objects of suspicion in case they get too involved with the universe out there, rather than just sitting back and watching, as Time Lords are supposed to do. I wouldn't want you to be targeted because of your association with me.”
“I appreciate that,” she says softly.
“Unless...”
Theta trails off, and she's intrigued by the somewhat uncomfortable swallow he gives.
“Unless what?” she asks in the end.
“You could come with me,” he suggests almost hopefully.
“What, leave Gallifrey?” She's honestly surprised by the suggestion, which has never occurred to her before that moment. She has to swallow a flash of fear at the idea.
“Why not?” He spreads his hands wide in a gesture of demonstration. “It's so incredible out there, Donna. So many planets and worlds and galaxies, and you've never seen any of them!”
“Sometimes I think I have.”
The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them and she cringes back in her chair as she finishes, knowing that Theta won't let that sort of thing slip.
“What do you mean?” he demands.
She stares past him, out towards the gleaming Citadel, wishing fervently that she had thought before she opened her mouth.
“Donna?” he prompts gently. “Please. Tell me what you mean.”
“They're just dreams,” she replies softly, wishing that it would deter him, but knowing it won't.
“I love dreams!” Theta's face lights up in a wide smile. “Tell me what you dream about, Donna.”
“Not now.” Donna glances up into the sky, where one of the suns is about to set in the northern sky. “We need to get home so that the children can have supper before they go to bed.”
Standing up, she dusts herself down before turning to pick up the basket that had contained their picnic. However she freezes at the feeling of Theta's hand acting as a gentle restraint on her arm, and she looks up to find him standing beside her, his dark eyes gazing questioningly into hers, but with a knowing expression on his face.
“I would still like to know,” he tells her.
She sighs and makes up her mind. “I'll tell you,” she agrees. “But later, when there won't be any interruptions.”
“I'll hold you to that,” he promises, turning to fold up the chairs.
“I know,” she replies, unable to help smiling a little before she calls the children and they head for home.
Next Part
Author: katherine_b
Rating: G
Summary: Have you ever wondered what happens to those the Doctor leaves behind?
Characters: Donna and Theta Sigma (One)
A/N A bit (okay, a lot!) of background information: So where did this story come from? (Apart from the treacherous maelstrom of my insane mine, of course…)
Basically, it's a result of a discrepancy that has always bothered me between the old and the new series. In The Sound of Drums the Doctor says that, at eight years old, children on Gallifrey look into the vortex and that his reaction to what he saw there was to run. And yet we're told in Old Who that he studied at the Academy on Gallifrey, only scraping a pass on his second attempt.
For those familiar with Old Who mythology, this is not the wife of the Other/the Doctor as mentioned in several TV episodes and various other DW stories. The Doctor, when we first meet him, is clearly an old man (age being the reason he regenerates for the first time), and later in his life he clearly remembers being a father (as mentioned in The Doctor’s Daughter). This is how I imagine the Doctor’s life might have gone and what could have given him a reason to leave Gallifrey.
But how does this link back to the Prologue? Is it 'reality'? What has happened to Donna? Ah, for those and other answers, you will have to wait and see!
Allons-y!
Chapter I
“Donna!”
The dark head that has been bent over a piece of torn material lifts up and Donna puts her mending aside.
“I'm in here,” she calls quietly, mentally projecting the knowledge of her location to the man who has just entered the house and glancing at the three sleeping children on the far side of the room before leaving the nursery.
Coming out onto the landing, she looks down to see the new arrival removing his coat and he glances in her direction with a smile, his deep-set eyes sparkling.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asks politely as she begins to descend the stairs.
“Are the children asleep?”
“Sir, it's two sextas since their normal bedtime!” she protests indignantly. “Of course they are! Your meeting at the Council finished awfully late tonight.”
He chuckles and removes the massive moulded collar around his neck, placing it on the hook by the door that hangs there for that purpose. The lack of that huge object behind his head seems to draw attention to his facial features, making his high forehead and the beginning of his receding hairline, as well as his long, straight nose, more obvious. His somewhat small chin seems far less noticeable when he smiles, as he is doing now as he holds open the sitting room door and nods for her to enter ahead of him.
“Join me for a drink,” he suggests.
“Of course, sir,” she agrees, sitting in the chair a short distance away from the glowing remains of the fire.
The man casts a look of amused frustration over his shoulder as he pours generous amounts of something alcoholic from a decanter into two glasses before crossing the room, holding one just out of her reach.
“Two epons as my secretary,” he complains, “and now six hectas taking care of my children since my wife died and you still can't call me Theta?”
She chuckles and takes the glass as he finally gives it to her. “Not in front of the children, sir,” she reminds him. “That was the directive you gave me when you asked me to live here.”
“The children aren't here,” he reminds her, settling into the armchair opposite her, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his ankles crossed. “So let me hear you say it. Theta Sigma.”
“Theta Sigma,” she repeats obediently, her lips quirking into a grin as she adds, “Is that better, sir?”
He visibly smothers a smile and rolls his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder how I put up with you, Donna.”
“I ask myself the same question,” she retorts with a chuckle, “if that's any comfort.”
They exchange grins before Theta takes out and lights his pipe as he begins talking about the business transacted at the council meeting. Donna listens politely, although much of what he's discussing is beyond her knowledge. She also keeps part of her mind alert for any disturbance from the nursery. Invariably one or other of the children will realise their father is home and come down to see him, but tonight they seem settled enough not to wake.
And when she leaves Theta sitting by the dying fire, his head filled with thoughts of his late wife, she checks on the children that she suspects are the only remaining ties that link him to Gallifrey,
Will is the eldest and only a few hectas away from going to the Academy. He is also the most like his father, with that man's distinctive features and, when he's awake, sparkling brown eyes. He's the student of the family, wanting nothing more than to succeed to his father's seat on the Council, which Theta was given when he returned to Gallifrey to raise a family with his wife. Will isn't aware that the offer of the job was given to Theta as much in an attempt to rein him in as because his time at the Academy meant he had earned it.
Janie and her twin bother Tom are only five epons old (or years, as Theta seems to like calling it, in honour, he once explained, of the divisions of time on a planet he once visited and rather liked). Janie is the epitome is of her mother, and Donna knows that has made it difficult for her father to spend time with her since that lady's death, but Janie is definitely something of a daddy's girl and has him wound around her finger.
Tom, whose physical appearance is a mixture of both his parents, tries to follow in Will's footsteps, but he doesn't have the patience to spend hours hunched over the many books in the home's library. He prefers to be out in the garden or trying to build things in his father's workshop.
Donna has adored these now-motherless children ever since she was appointed by the Council to work for Theta, and she didn't have to think twice when her boss asked her to add to her duties by caring for them.
Kissing each one softly, she lowers the nightlight to its dimmest level and then leaves the nursery, leaving the door that leads her to her own room standing slightly ajar.
More than once, she's woken up to find at least one of the children cuddled up beside her, and although Theta isn't too keen on it, Donna secretly adores it and wishes that it would happen almost every night.
* * *
“Daddy!”
Donna looks up from where she is tidying a pile of books to find Theta standing in the doorway, his two younger children clinging to his legs.
“How are you, Donna?” he asks as he swings Janie into his arms and gently guides Tom over to the small children's table and chairs in the corner.
“Fine,” she tells him, wondering at the distracted tone of his voice.
“Where's Will?”
“Out in the garden.” She sighs. “Saying goodbye to everything before he goes to the Academy tomorrow, I think.”
Theta chuckles. “I remember doing the same thing,” he says confidingly as Janie settles down on his lap to colour in a picture and Tom begins digging in the pile of books Donna is trying to tidy up, finally pulling back onto the floor those she has just managed to return to the shelves and settling on top of the huge pile of books to read the first story he rejected some sextas earlier when Donna first suggested it to him.
Rolling her eyes and ruffling the boy’s hair, for which she receives a cheeky grin, Donna crosses the room and pulls up another of the small chairs to sit beside Theta.
“Did you like the Academy?” she asks as she sharpens some of the coloured pencils for Janie to use.
“I had a lot of fun there,” he replies with a smile. “Made some wonderful friends. Friends I hope I'll keep forever. Didn't learn much though,” he adds with a sly smile. “I think my boy will probably shame me in that way, being so much more of a bookworm than I was at his age.”
“You like them now though. Books, that is,” Donna says, thinking that she rarely sees Theta without a book in his possession and knowing that it was he and not his wife who built up the extensive library in this house.
“Oh, yes,” he agrees. “But,” he adds honestly, “it took me far too long to appreciate their value. That's why I want these three to read at every opportunity.”
“They do, sir,” she reminds him, a little hurt at the implied suggestion that she would neglect such an important part of her charges' education.
“I know they do.” He smiles reassuringly at her. “I couldn't doubt it, Donna. They're always reading when I see them, and they know so many more stories than I did at that stage of my life.” For a moment he studies her in silence before speaking again, his voice soft. “Did you read many books before you came to the Academy?”
Her head snaps up from sharpening a sky-orange pencil and she stares at him. “You've never asked me about my life before that time before.”
“And I won't if you don't want to talk about it,” he promises. “But sometimes, the things you know, I can't help wondering...”
“I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, knowing how curious you are,” she admits slowly. “But - it's not something I tell people about.”
“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”
“I know.” She sighs, but can't help smiling a little. “You never make me do anything I don't want to, Theta, but you have a way of asking...”
“How come you never call my Daddy his name before?” Janie suddenly interrupts, looking up at her nanny with her head tilted to one side.
Donna exchanges startled and guilty looks with the man beside her before turning her attention back to the little girl.
“It was an accident, Janie,” she tells her in the end. “I won't do it again.”
“It was nice,” she says, returning her attention to her picture. “Like friends.”
“We are 'like' friends, baby,” her father assures his daughter, but his eyes are fixed on Donna. “We 'are' friends.”
* * *
“S'awfully quiet now,” Tom says suddenly from his prone position on the rich red grass, the twin mountains reaching for the orange sky behind him, nibbling on the remains of an apple core.
“Up here, d'you mean?” Donna asks, looking up from her book. “Or in general?”
“All the time.” Tom sighs.
“Since Will went away,” Donna finishes for him. “It won't be long until you're going, too.”
“I know!” Tom sits bolt upright and flings the core away. “But that's not yet, is it?”
“Only two epons until you do.”
“But then you go away.” Janie is hugging her legs, a mournful look on her face. “Don't you?”
“I don't know,” she replies honestly. “Maybe I could keep working for your father, like I did before.”
“We can but hope,” a new voice says, and the three people at the picnic turn to see Theta walking up the hill towards them, a cape around his shoulders and his favourite Panama hat on his head, leaning lightly on a cane. “May I join you?” he proposes when nobody responds to his comment.
“Of course!” Donna is about to get up and set up one of the small chairs they are sitting on to keep themselves off the ground when he holds up a hand to stop her.
“I can manage.” His eyes dance a little as he pulls over a chair. “I may be older than you, Donna, but I'm not quite decrepit yet.”
“I would never dare to suggest it,” she laughs as he settles in the seat, his cane leaning against his leg.
“Glad to hear it.”
He winks at her and then fishes in his pocket to pull out his pipe, filling it and lighting it. A few moments later, the smoke around them is filled with the delicate scent of his tobacco.
“Daddy?” Tom asks at this point.
“What is it, my boy?”
“You won't let Donna leave when we go to the Academy, will you?”
Donna can't help feeling a quiver of anxiety in the pit of her stomach as she waits for Theta's reply.
“I only wish I had that sort of power, Tom,” the boy's father replies slowly. “Unfortunately, once you and Janie have gone to the Academy, I won't have the right to determine what happens to Donna.”
“But you're on the Council!” Janie protests.
“There are a lot of people on the Council.” Theta sighs ruefully. “And that isn't an area over which I have any say, child.”
“Don't worry about it yet,” Donna puts it at this point. “It's still two epons until you both go to the Academy, and anything could happen in the meantime.”
“Donna's right,” Theta says before either of the children can speak. “Now run away, you two, and play. We'll have to go home soon.”
Somewhat laggingly, the twins leave the adults behind and head further down the hill. Once they're out of earshot, Theta turns to Donna.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.” Her response is prompt and honest. “I've loved the time I'm spent with you and your family, Theta, but after being handed from one member of the Council to another, being settled like this almost seems strange.” She raises her eyebrows at him. “After all the time you've spent away from Gallifrey, it must be weird for you, too.”
“Sometimes,” Theta admits. “Sometimes I do miss the travelling I did after I left the Academy. But I know I can't leave again. Not yet anyway.”
“You loved it so much though.” Donna glances at Theta out of the corner of her eye. “What brought you back here?”
He waves at the children chasing each other across the red grass further down the hill. “Them,” he says rather hoarsely. “My wife wouldn't hear of us bringing up our children - well, child, because the twins came later - anywhere except Gallifrey.” He swallows painfully. “She always promised that, once they were safely at the Academy, we would go off again, but...”
Theta trails off into silence, and Donna doesn't want to interrupt. She thinks for a moment about putting a comforting hand on his knee, but she's never been overly familiar with her boss and doesn't feel that this is the right moment to start.
The silence that descends between them is so complete that Donna can almost make out the words the twins are saying, and she can also hear the very faint cries of a bird wheeling around the peak of Solitude.
She doesn't feel the need to say anything though.
That's one of the things she likes most about Theta. Although they have long conversations about almost any subject under the suns, they can also sit in silence for sextas without it feeling uncomfortable.
And in the end, it's Theta who speaks first.
“I suppose,” he says in the end, fixedly not meeting her gaze, “that that's one of the reasons I wouldn't push to keep you working for me. We both know that people who leave Gallifrey become objects of suspicion in case they get too involved with the universe out there, rather than just sitting back and watching, as Time Lords are supposed to do. I wouldn't want you to be targeted because of your association with me.”
“I appreciate that,” she says softly.
“Unless...”
Theta trails off, and she's intrigued by the somewhat uncomfortable swallow he gives.
“Unless what?” she asks in the end.
“You could come with me,” he suggests almost hopefully.
“What, leave Gallifrey?” She's honestly surprised by the suggestion, which has never occurred to her before that moment. She has to swallow a flash of fear at the idea.
“Why not?” He spreads his hands wide in a gesture of demonstration. “It's so incredible out there, Donna. So many planets and worlds and galaxies, and you've never seen any of them!”
“Sometimes I think I have.”
The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them and she cringes back in her chair as she finishes, knowing that Theta won't let that sort of thing slip.
“What do you mean?” he demands.
She stares past him, out towards the gleaming Citadel, wishing fervently that she had thought before she opened her mouth.
“Donna?” he prompts gently. “Please. Tell me what you mean.”
“They're just dreams,” she replies softly, wishing that it would deter him, but knowing it won't.
“I love dreams!” Theta's face lights up in a wide smile. “Tell me what you dream about, Donna.”
“Not now.” Donna glances up into the sky, where one of the suns is about to set in the northern sky. “We need to get home so that the children can have supper before they go to bed.”
Standing up, she dusts herself down before turning to pick up the basket that had contained their picnic. However she freezes at the feeling of Theta's hand acting as a gentle restraint on her arm, and she looks up to find him standing beside her, his dark eyes gazing questioningly into hers, but with a knowing expression on his face.
“I would still like to know,” he tells her.
She sighs and makes up her mind. “I'll tell you,” she agrees. “But later, when there won't be any interruptions.”
“I'll hold you to that,” he promises, turning to fold up the chairs.
“I know,” she replies, unable to help smiling a little before she calls the children and they head for home.
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