AN: Hey all! I know this is a super, SUPER small fandom, but this movie was sweet, and I love David Tennant, so I wanted to write a story about it. If you find this, hope you let me know what you think, and enjoy!

Chapter One

Alex left the house pushing Arthur in his pram. She needed to get out of the house, even if it was for a few minutes. Walk around the block would be plenty. Besides, Arthur fell asleep in his pram and while she loved it, she fucking hated that, too. He was growing so big that, pretty soon, she wouldn't be able to put him in it for a nap. And it wasn't as though she could drive him around. She didn't have a license.

So, while she could, she'd push him around.

As she left the front gate and swung to the right, she nearly ran into someone.

"Oh my god!" Alex cried out, doing her best to stop the collision while the other young woman jumped in fright. "Christ, I'm sorry. Can't see 'round this thing."

"No worries, mate." The young woman replied with a thick Scottish brogue. She smiled. "Bit o'va blind corner."

"A bit," Alex laughed a little. "You 'ere to see John, then?" She pointed toward the neighboring house where the stranger had recently emerged.

"Uh," The stranger suddenly looked a little nervous, but did her best to keep it hidden. Alex saw it anyway. "No, no." She finally said. "Jus' came to drop somethin' off."

"Okay," Alex nodded lazily. "Um, well, have a nice day."

"Yeah, you, too."

While the young woman stepped around Alex and Arthur, she gave a soft smile and set off down the sidewalk. Alex lingered. She stared at the back of the stranger for, perhaps, a minute or two before setting off on her own walk.

The stranger looked familiar, but Alex couldn't place why. She knew she hadn't seen her around, but that nagging feeling was strong. All Alex could do was take inventory of the stranger and try, probably fruitlessly, to place her.

She had deep, royal purple and blue hair that was tied back into a messy ponytail. Her skin was fair like Alex's, and she was about the same height, too. The stranger had a pretty face, heart-shaped with nice cheek bones, and full lips. There was a silver ring through the middle of her bottom lip, and another through her septum. Both were really small, small enough they almost weren't noticeable. There were a few more piercings in her ears, too.

Aside from that, and from her multiple layers of clothing to deal with the March cold and damp, the stranger had a big pair of oversized, vintage-looking, cat's eye glasses.

She was so fucking familiar, but Alex still couldn't place her face. She hadn't seen her hanging around John's before. She knew that much, especially since everything that happened last year.

So why, oh why…

Alex passed a newspaper stand on her way around the block, caught sight of a magazine, and that was when it hit her like a bolt of lightning.

"Oh, fuck." She mumbled to herself.

Alex practically stalked the front window waiting for John with a years-old copy of a magazine in her hand, and it wasn't until hours later that she saw his car finally pull up. Growling to herself, she took Arthur's baby monitor and charged outside.

As he got out of the car, John cast her a friendly smile. "'Ey, Alex. How's-"

But she never let him finish his greeting before she began to slap him with the rolled up piece.

"Ow! What the fuck?!" He said as he struggled to dodge the swipes.

"Why didn't you tell us you knew someone famous?!" She growled through her teeth.

"Cause I don'!"

After beating him back a fair distance, and hearing him repeat that he didn't know what she was talking about, Alex finally calmed down.

"You know Violet."

His thick brows were pulled together and his lips were parted as he thought. He looked confused.

"I can honestly say I don' know anyone named Violet."

"Well, she knows you." Alex snapped. "How could you not tell me you knew her?" She smacked him once more in the arm, causing him to stifle a cry of possible pain. "I love her music."

"I don' know who tha' is!" He said again, more annoyed and angry than before.

But Alex, still swimming in her own annoyed anger, began to flip through the magazine to find the article. That was how she recognized the stranger.

Years ago, when she and Olivia had only been dating for a little while, they went to a club that was far more Alex's scene than her partner's. It was a jazzy-bluesy-everything sort of place where people like Alex, who adored the pin-ups of old, felt most comfortable. There were drinks and some food, but it was the music that was so great.

One artist in particular was Alex's favorite, a young woman named Violet for her hair. She sang really soulful songs with a voice that could hit notes like Christina, but had the depth of Aretha. Fine, sure, there might've been a bit of a crush, too, but good music was good music regardless.

Alex was a little obsessed for a while, like most everyone gets when they find a group they like. She'd managed to drag Olivia to one more show, and then Alfie to the rest, and bought a magazine that featured new artists in London when she was in it. The focus was all indie groups, people who had maybe a hundred fans. So, sure, in the broad sense, maybe Violet wasn't famous, but she was to Alex, so she was actually angry John hadn't told her they knew one another.

It still annoyed Alex that she hadn't recognized Violet at first, but her look on stage was done-up and she didn't wear glasses, so it took Alex seeing the same brand of magazine at the newsstand for everything to click.

When she found the article, she turned it around to show John. He still eyed her like a crazy person. He was probably right to.

Skeptically, and sure to keep his eye on her, John took the article. It took a moment, but she saw recognition take hold, and it wasn't in a happy way. He looked a little afraid of the article, which she thought was strange and caused her brows to furrow.

"She came 'ere?" He asked in a serious voice.

"Yeah," Alex answered slowly. "Said she was droppin' somethin' off."

Alex pointed toward his house and that seemed to be all the prompting John needed to get moving again.

His long legs carried him up the path to his door. When he saw nothing on his doorstep, he opened it. Alex was slow to follow, but did out of partial curiosity and because John still had her magazine.

She saw him sifting through the mail that had been pushed through the slot earlier in the day before he found a plain envelope that only had his name. He'd dropped her magazine into the pile, but at the moment, it was the extreme look of worry on his face that bothered her.

He tore into the envelope and dropped it as well. His attention was so focused on whatever the letter said that he hadn't even noticed Alex now standing on his stoop.

"John?"

Hearing his named snapped him back to reality, but it took a moment longer for it to reach his eyes.

"Hm?"

"Ya alrigh', mate?"

"Yeah, no fine." He said quickly before his speed of speech slowed substantially. "So… em… I'm gonna," He threw his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the inside of his house.

"Right," She nodded lazily, unsure of what else to do. He made the motion to step inside, but she spoke again. "Magazine."

"Oh, yeah," He knelt down and swiped it up, quickly passing it off before closing the door.

Alex was left standing on the doorstep staring at the slick, relatively-freshly-painted door without the slightest clue as to what she was meant to do now. She couldn't remember the last time, or a time ever, where John had been so wonky. It left her a bit dazed, so much so that as she walked back to her house, she kept glancing back unsurely.

Inside his house, John sat on his couch, slumped forward with the letter in one hand, and his chin in the other. He had read the same few lines a half dozen times already, but couldn't stop himself from doing it again.

John,

I know it's been a while, but I need to speak to you about something important. I don't know if you have my number anymore so here it is. Give me a call and we'll arrange something. This needs to be said in person.

Addy

Her number was under the body of the letter. It was the same number she'd always had, an easy-to-remember amalgamation in an equally easy sequence, but that wasn't what bothered him. He was bothered by the fact that she'd contacted him in the first place.

Addy was sure to tell him that if she ever spoke to him again, it'd only be if someone was dead or dying. There was a random urge for him to call his folks and make sure they were alright.

As he finally set the letter down, John thought about what it must have taken for Addy to even find him. It'd been five years and two moves. It'd been ages since they even spoke to each other.

Jesus, did somebody die?

And Addy was famous now? That seemed both believable and not, but Alex had the magazine.

That was an odd thing to see, Addy all dressed up. She was wearing a deep purples dress that hugged every curve, like a dress modeled after the fifties-style of clothing. Her hair was similar in color and design with rolling curls all swept over a single eye. In her blood red lips she was biting her pearl necklace while her perfectly manicured finger tugged it a bit, too.

It was seductive and tasteful, and it took him forever to recognize her because the last time he'd seen her she was blonde. At least, that was the excuse he gave for how long it took him to recognize someone he'd grown up with.

Against his better judgment, and filled with equal parts fear and more fear, John reached for his mobile and dialed Addy's number.

The ringing felt like it went on for ages before someone finally picked up.

"Hello?"

He felt a chill race down his spine at the familiar sound of her voice.

"Uh, yeah, Addy," He said, sitting upright as though it'd help at all. "It's me."

There was a long pause before she replied. "John, yeah. 'Ello."

Another long pause followed her simple greeting. They didn't know how to talk to one another anymore. Conversation used to flow so easily, but it was suddenly weighed down by a thousand things from the past.

John's shoulders slumped just a bit and he leaned forward once more. Something about it made him more comfortable, like he was less exposed.

"Addy-"

"So, yeah," She spoke quickly, cutting off whatever he was about to say. John was almost appreciative. "We nee' to talk."

"Wha's wrong, Addy?" He was almost afraid to know.

"Better said in person." She replied. A pit was forming in his gut. "I've a gig tonight. How's yer tomorrow lookin'?"

"Righ', tomorrow, yeah."

"Fine," Her voice remained cold and uncomfortable. "I'll text ya."

"Sure."

There was another, increasingly common pause before he heard her say a brisk goodbye. When the call had ended, John found himself staring at his mobile for a while without really knowing why. Maybe it was because he couldn't quite believe what'd just happened. He needed to talk to someone about it, and promptly stood to go next door.

John paced through Olivia and Alex's living room. They were sat on the couch watching him, exchanging odd glances back and forth because they hadn't seen him so out of sorts since Alex told him she was pregnant. Otherwise, he was a generally arrogant and calm man. Not now, though. Not anymore.

Alex had filled Olivia in on the weirdness when she got home. At first, she didn't believe Alex. Now, she did. Her sideways glance said so.

"Righ'," John finally said. He hadn't spoken since entering the house nearly five minutes ago. You don't realize how long five minutes really is until it's utterly silent. "So," He turned to face the pair, but it was clear quickly he was lost. "I don' know where to start."

"Okay," Alex mumbled slightly. "Start with how you know Violet?"

"Who?" His face twisted for a second, "Oh, righ'. Addy." It was their turn to cast him an odd stare. "Her name's Adelynn." He clarified. "Uh, so, yeah, we grew up together. Back in Glasgow."

"Okay," Olivia muttered.

Alex could tell from the tone of her partner's voice that she didn't really know what to think. It wasn't that she was confused, it was more that Olivia didn't know why she should care. After everything that happened, Olivia and John were closer than before, but he still irked the blonde.

"I haven' talked to her in years." He stared at them wide-eyed. "I'm freakin' out a bit."

"What'd the letter say?" Alex asked. She was genuinely curious.

"Uh," He took a deep breath and sighed, placing his hands on his narrow hips while he recalled it. "Tha' we need to talk, it's important, an' she gave me 'er number, so I called her, an'… yeah." He'd been staring off into space until that moment before finally turning his brown eyes to them. "We're meetin' tomorrow."

Olivia, seeming suddenly interested, leaned forward. She clasped her delicate hands together and placed her elbows on her knees. "How long's it been since you've spoken to one another?"

Alex couldn't help but mirror Olivia's position. They weren't interrogating him, but something about the situation forced them both to take on the odd position.

"Years." He told them. "Ever since…"

He took another deep breath and slid his hands into his pockets. They were all nervous habits the young women in front of him had learned how to identify. It meant he was about to say something that was going to cast him in a terrible light, and Alex felt like she knew what it was.

Alex leaned back and felt her face twist into a disappointed grimace. She crossed her arms over her chest as she fell into the sofa.

"You cheated on 'er." Alex said. She didn't know why she thought it would be something like that, but her instinct told her so. To her surprise, he nodded.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "With my ex-wife."

Alex tried to keep the judging out of her face considering she'd messed up, too, but it was hard.

"I don' know if I can wait 'til tomorrow." He told them both. "I'm goin' bloody mad."

"Then don't wait." Alex told him. "Can't you meet tonight?"

"Nah. She says she's got a gig."

Alex perked. Her attention shot to Olivia. "We're goin'."

Olivia groaned, but there was no disputing Alex. She was a force of nature.

John felt wrong in his skin, and he didn't appreciate it because he looked amazing. Swathed in his favorite pair of dark jeans, his leather jacket and a deeply-cut, v-neck tee, he looked great. His hair was combed back perfectly, his beard was on point. Everything was what it should have been, but he felt wrong.

He refused to show it, though. It would be the first time he'd seen Adelynn in years and he wanted to look his best. It was that sort of thing where you wanted to prove to your ex that you're better off, even if you were in the wrong during the breakup.

Alex, bubbly, excited, and smiling Alex, led him and Olivia to a table that nestled somewhere in the middle. They each took a seat and the moment he did, John's knee began to bounce. He was in desperate need of a drink.

Not long after they sat down, a man emerged on stage. Apparently, they'd made it just in time for the show. Not bad considering they had arrived last minute.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," He said to the crowd, "Violet."

The crowd began to applause, but no one louder than Alex. John cast her a sideways glance and smirked. He couldn't help it. She was infectious and at the moment, he welcomed the distraction. It didn't last long, though.

From the back, past the drummer and his kit, emerged Miss Violet, Addy. John's chest seized. Aside from within the glossy pages of a magazine, he hadn't physically seen Addy in years, and he wasn't entirely prepared for it.

She emerged wearing an outfit very similar to what she'd been wearing in the magazine, but it was black and off-the-shoulder instead of purple. Other than that, her hair was still curled in that sweet, Marilyn Monroe-like way, her lips were painted bright red, and her eyes were done in that cat-eye thing. The piercings were new, though. She didn't have those the last time he'd seen her.

John propped his elbow on the table and buried his lips in his fingers as he looked at her smiling face. In a way, he was shrinking so she couldn't see him. He felt like he was spying.

"Evenin'," She said to the audience. John physically shuddered. "How 'bout we get this show goin', hm?"

The audience applauded and the music began.

Addy's nerves hadn't settled since John's phone call. She'd given him her number with the intention of having him call, but that didn't make her prepared to hear his voice. It brought back a whole swarm of emotions that she wasn't willing to confront.

Unfortunately, life doesn't give a damn what your plans are. It has a plan of its own.

Work helped. Adelynn found singing cathartic. Some people liked to scream into pillows when they were angry or hurt, but she sang. Same thing, really. Singing was just screaming with a tune.

The lights shinned in her eyes, the music hummed in her ears, and she sang her set. In those forty-five minutes, nothing else mattered. Her bills, the chores and errands she had to run, the rooms of her house she had to clean, doctor's appointments, and everything else meant absolutely nothing. The only thing that mattered was whether or not she hit her next note and met the musical cue.

When her set ended, the audience applauded. Addy smiled, gave a bow, and waved a farewell to them all. She wanted a cigarette and promptly grabbed one to smoke out back.

Addy had quit smoking years ago because she had to and, honestly, she knew that if she kept smoking, she'd shrivel up like a prune. Good genes only got someone so far. But, in the last month, she took up the noxious habit again. Life got in the way and a smoker and drinker always falls back to their vice when shit goes wrong.

After lighting the cigarette, stood beneath the light of a single lamp, Addy leaned her back against the brick wall. There was a brief worry about her dress, but it passed quickly.

After taking a long, cancer-giving drag, she let her head fall back. Her eyes drifted shut and the sounds of the city met her ears. She was content to linger for as long as possible, but again, fucking life, man.

"Addy,"

The sound of his voice made her jump. Not only was she shocked someone said her name, but who it was who'd said it.

Adelynn rolled a bit to face him, but kept her shoulder against the wall. It helped stabilize her because she genuinely felt as though she might faint. Everything over the past few years hit her and hit her hard. It all came flooding back worse than it had when they spoke on the phone. It was seeing him again that did it, that brought back all of the anger, resentment, hatred, and attraction. She hated him for looking as good as he did. If anything, she'd hoped he'd gotten fat.

John approached flanked by two young women, one Addy recognized as the girl she'd bumped into with the pram earlier that day.

"Thought we was meetin' tomorrow?" She said to him, doing her best to keep her voice from trembling.

"Alex here's a fan." He told her. Christ, she hated that she still liked his voice.

The girl with the pink hair, now fancifully curled and sporting a big red silk flower, smiled wide. "I really am." She beamed.

Addy couldn't fight a smile of her own. It wasn't often people told her they were fans of her work, and it was both one of the most rewarding things to hear, and the most awkward. Even though she loved people liking her work, Addy was still very uncomfortable accepting praise. It was the Scot in her.

"Thanks very much." She told her with a kind nod. Her gaze drifted back to John and the smile faded. "S'pose yer wantin' to talk now then, hm?"

"Yeah," He said with a low, unsure nod.

"In fron' ov yer friends?"

"Yup," He popped his P a bit when he said it.

Addy looked him over. John was nervous, which gave her a sick form of confidence. She liked that he was uncomfortable. He might have been trying to hide it, but the way he shoved his hands into his pockets and continued to chew on his bottom lip told her the truth. She knew all of his ticks.

"Righ' then,"

Addy shoved herself away from the wall and stood upright. She gave him one more glance over while she smoked on her cigarette. She wanted to savor the hell she was going to rain down him.

"Remember tha day I came home early an' found you fuckin' that gash in our bed?" She asked bluntly.

He physically shuddered and let out a nervous cough before he said, "Yeah."

"I'd been sick tha' week, right?" She asked, not expecting an answer, but he actually nodded.

"Flu." He told her. "Yer mum was sick, gave it to you, yeah."

Addy had been unprepared for him to remember such a small detail years later. Then again, maybe it was simply burned into his memory because she'd made a spectacular show of rage when she caught him.

"Well, I went to the GP tha' day. I came home early to tell you I's pregnant."

And then it happened. All color fled his face. He was already Scottish Pale, which meant he had freckles for color versus a real tan of any sort, but even they lost a shade or two.

His chocolate eyes went wide and his mouth dropped. Perfect.

"M-hm," She said as she took a pull from her cigarette. "Ten weeks, she said."

"Preg- preg-"

He didn't seem capable of forming the actual word and it made her eye him curiously, narrowing her eyes on him almost judgingly.

"His name's Adam." She said. After a final drag from her cigarette, Addy dropped it to the ground and crushed it beneath the toe of her high heel. "He's four, an' he wants to mee' you. I suggest you figure out wha' you plan to do, so I can tell him one way or the other."

And with that, she stepped around the now-comatose man. Addy gave both stunned young women a farewell nod, and disappeared.

A vindictive smile wanted to form across her lips, but there was no point to it, or energy for one. The truth was, she'd hoped to keep John from Adam indefinitely, but situations and circumstances arose.

As she returned to the club, electing to go in through the front just to make her childish yet dramatic exit, Addy felt her eyes begin to prickle. Over the last couple of weeks, she'd had to do a lot of things she didn't want to do, and talking to John again was perhaps the worst.