I've had this story buzzing around my head for sometime now, but was reluctant to start it, as I had no idea where to take it. (And I was concentrating on Malcolm!)
There are not many Dr Pete stories, and all the ones I've read feature Clara. I've enjoyed those immensely but very much wanted to steer clear of that myself.
My female character is entirely made up, she is a little older than Clara, and somewhat damaged. I have set the story in 2011, when the programme was broadcast, rather than when it was actually set. In this universe Pete is not dying, I need to keep him alive so that he can mend! The nurse in me likes to try to fix people...even if they are my story characters! It's going to be a slow burner and a descriptive piece, which I hope won't be too boring.
I'm fully aware that we actually know very little about Pete. The actual role is a fairly small one. For me, that is not terribly important. The scenes that Peter Capaldi is in are so compelling, and I find it one of his most moving and endearing roles.
Coming from a medical background I find his portrayal spot on (I'm not sure whether he has personally witnessed alcoholism or someone suffering from cancer, but it shows just what a fine actor he really is.)

The story title is taken from a Joan Armatrading song 'Save Me' which can be found on her 'Love and Affection' album, which, although old, is full of wonderful songs, this one being particularly appropriate.

THROW ME A LIFE-LINE.

CHAPTER ONE. Introduction.

(Setting: a small cafe/coffee shop in a Glasgow street)

Maggie had seen him come into the cafe most mornings but knew very little about him, not even his name, yet somehow he fascinated her.
She knew he worked in the newspaper office down the street, and that was the extent of it.
In he came, at his usual time, shuffling to the same table in the corner and ordering the same breakfast and a cup of builders tea.
Taking no notice of the other diners, head bowed, as he scanned his newspaper and sipped his tea, dark rimmed glasses perched too near to the end of his nose, in a world of his own.
Always in the same clothes...Maggie considered this, he either wore the same brown suit, waistcoat and shirt everyday, or he had several identical suits tucked away somewhere, who could say? He wasn't dirty or smelly exactly, he just looked frayed around the edges.
She guessed he was probably around 45, although the way he shuffled made him look older. He could be regarded as quite handsome, but the gait and a slight reddening of the nose, marked him as a drinker.
A fine head of salt and pepper curls, stood to attention on top of his head, which he frequently combed through with his long bony fingers, nicotine stained. He wore a plain gold wedding band, but Maggie couldn't, somehow, conceive of a wife, since he didn't appear to be cared for in any way. Misty grey-blue eyes, that seemed dull and tired of the world, peered out from atop the spectacles as he glanced up at her approach.
"Mornin'" she said, cheerfully, "lovely day!"
"Is it?" He replied, " I'd no noticed."
His accent was broad, and local. The burr unmistakable, voice deep and melodic, rumbling in his throat.
"You done with your plate?" She tried, conversationally.
"Aye." He said and pushed it towards her. Returning to his paper.
Moments later, she watched him push his chair back with a scrape, gather his belongings and head towards the door, not looking up or glancing around him at all.
Maggie sighed and went back to her washing up.

Maggie Fraser's prospects were pretty bleak, to say the least. She had arrived in Glasgow less than a year previously. One London morning she had woken to the realisation that she could take no more from the foul mouthed, abusive git that she lived with. So, she packed her few goods and chattels and headed back from whence she came. Aged 35 and unmarried, she had no money, nowhere to stay and hardly knew a soul. An old school girlfriend offered her a couch to doss on, and she'd managed to find the cafe job through her. Intelligent (apart from where choice of men was concerned!) and reliable, she was soon manageress. Under her care, the little cafe prospered, many of the newspaper people came there, the food was good, the place spotless and the welcome cordial.
Eventually finding a small flat, she began to rebuild some semblance of a life, albeit a rather solitary one, but it had not been easy.
Chatting to the customers was the joy of her day, knowing that after the café door was locked in the evening, there was no one to speak to until the following morning.
An attractive woman; long fair hair and freckles, sea-blue eyes, tallish but slim (some would say, a bit too slim), Maggie should have had a lot going for her, but somehow her choices in love always seemed disastrous. So, she'd decided...no more falling recklessly in love, she was going to take time out and be on her own for a while.

Oh, how wrong can one woman be! How foolish, when fate has other ideas. Things happen , beyond our control, we are powerless to prevent them!