A/N: I feel a bit duty bound to point out this is a Ten/Donna romance to any unsuspecting readers. I do apologise if you thought otherwise.

Part 2

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Braxiatel arrived at the prearranged rendezvous, expecting to see River anxiously waiting to receive the last pieces of information about her wedding plans; but she wasn't there. Where was she? This was all he needed! If she failed to show up it would cast humiliation upon both their Houses that they would never recover from.

With an increasingly desperate air, he started to search for any trace of her.

Donna watched some very weird looking blokes wander passed her as she sat idly wondering if she could use the coffee spillage as a good excuse to treat herself to that new leather coat she had been coveting. Funny that; she hadn't known there was going to be a science fiction convention that day. Not that she normally kept track of such things, but it was handy to know in order to spot the tourist. Tourists liked buying things from her grandfather's newspaper stall, and every penny counted.

She sighed. Yes, every penny counted towards taking him on one last trip before his illness took over. It did him well to keep busy by working, but there were days when he didn't manage to stay with it, and on those days he often mistook her for his late wife. Those days broke her heart, especially when she had to re-inform him of his wife's death.

A last adjustment of the magazines and she was done for the day. "Is there anything else you need me to do before I go home to get dinner ready, Gramps?" she asked him.

Wilf thought carefully for a second. "I don't think so, Sweetheart. But can you take those seeds down the allotment for me? I promised Stan he can pick them up today."

"No problem," she answered cheerily. It was an easy task to carry out, after all. "I'll do that right away."

As she headed up the hill to the allotments she noticed those weirdo blokes again. It was almost as though they were following her. What on earth could they want with a vegetable patch? It wasn't exactly your usual science fiction obsession, was it?

As she reached her grandfather's shed, the man from earlier in the shop appeared frantically in front of her.

"Quick! Hide me!" he begged; his eyes pleaded with her to understand his plight. He had recognised her from a distance, and was delighted to see her again; although he wasn't so sure she'd be delighted to see him. Fortunately she didn't instantly dismiss him or his plight.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess who he was hiding from, Donna reasoned. "In here," she immediately answered, and unlocked the shed padlock. After a few insistent pushes on it, they got the door to open and they raced in before the weirdo blokes arrived.

Keeping silent, she peeped cautiously out of the shed window. "They're still there," she whispered and then turned to see his reaction. She hadn't expected him to be quite so near as she did so.

He held a single finger to his lips as she gazed back at him. "They're after me," he supplied in low tones.

Donna rolled her eyes. Well, she'd expected that answer, for goodness sake! Tell her something she didn't know! "Why?" she asked.

He brought his lips right next to her ear to say, "It's a bit like being followed by the paparazzi where I come from." Doing so had brought him into close contact with her body, but he hastily put away that observation into the back of his mind.

His breath caused an involuntary shiver to pass through her. Nope, she refused to let his nearness and their compromising position affect her sensibilities. "Are you famous then?" she wondered.

"Sort of," he supplied. "I can't seem to get any privacy."

She pulled a sympathetic face and then peeped out the window again. It was safer to do that than remain in close proximity. The weirdo blokes were starting to leave, thankfully. Donna turned and thumbed towards the window. "Your mates are buggering off. We'll be able to creep out in a moment. By the way…" Donna fixed her inquisitive gaze on him. "Why are they following you about?"

Oh! How could he explain such a concept to someone so primitive? He thought back to the books he had written so long ago now. "They erm… they are fans stalking me. I wrote a couple of books," the Doctor boasted.

"Really?!" Her shocked eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "You don't look like an author."

"Don't I?" He peered down at himself, worried by her tone. "What does an author look like?"

"I dunno," she readily admitted. "But you're not what I would expect. Authors are arty types, aren't they?"

"Yes, sometimes," he replied evenly. "And what exactly do I look like?"

Her eyes swept down and back up his body in open judgement. "A bit of a banker, if I'm honest. Was it a book about finance and commerce?"

"No, it was not!" he retorted indignantly. He then released a small sniff and adjusted his tie. "It was a work that wove travel, fiction and fact in, and I quote; 'a mesmerising piece that enticed the senses'."

She snorted a laugh. "I bet it did! Is that shorthand for saying it was a porn book?"

"It certainly was not!" he involuntarily cried. "I extolled the virtues of London and its rich cultural landscape."

"So you wrote about porn set in London?" she teased, and smirked at his expression of disgust. "Come on then, tell me your name and this famous book you wrote."

He adjusted his tie again. "I'm known as the Doctor, and my book is called 'The Justification of the Metaphysical Existence Within the Extra-Terrestrial London Conurbation'," he supplied.

"Catchy title," she mocked. "Sorry, but I've never heard of it or you. Where are you from? I take it you're not from around here."

"I erm…" He gave a little cough. "A place called Gallifrey."

Donna frowned as she desperately tried to figure out where that is. "Isn't that in Scotland? I think I've been passed it on the motorway."

The Doctor smiled to himself. "I doubt it. Anyway, thank you for hiding me. I have a wedding to get to."

"Oh yeah? Where?" she inevitably asked.

"Ah ah ah! You won't catch me out that easily," he said, flashing her a genuine smile this time. He politely held out his hand for her to shake. "It was lovely to meet you properly, er…?"

"I'm Donna. Donna Noble," she replied, shaking his offered hand and noticing how soft and pleasing it was to touch. "I hope you enjoy the wedding. Who's getting married? And do you need a date?"

He laughed with delight. Meeting her again hadn't been too bad at all, and she had a lovely warm handshake, he noted absently. "My brother might do but unfortunately I must decline your generous offer. It is I that is getting married," he answered; and quietly crowed at her surprised expression. "Goodbye, Donna."

"Goodbye, Doctor; and good luck with the wedding. Mind how you go out there," she said, indicating towards the allotment outside, and stood aside to let him out.

On that high note, he left the shed and Donna Noble behind. Her company had been a most pleasing distraction from his current worries.

"There she is!" greeted her appearance as Donna entered her home a short while later.

She walked into the kitchen-diner to see her grandfather sitting talking to an unknown visitor, who immediately turned in her direction.

"Hello, Gramps. Hello," she greeted them, aiming the second 'hello' towards the strangely familiar man sitting in their kitchen. He was extremely well dressed, albeit a little weirdly; but his manners were impeccable.

"Hello. Nice to meet you," he replied; in a cultured and deliciously smooth voice.

Donna found herself distracted by that fact for a few moments, until Wilf cut in by saying, "Donna, this is Irvine Braxiatel. I met Mr Braxiatel at the newspaper stand this morning, and he needs a bit of help."

"You do?" Donna heard herself ask dreamily.

He smiled a gorgeous smile back at her. "Indeed I do, Miss Noble," Braxiatel confirmed.

"Call me Donna," she immediately insisted, trying not to blush under his scrutiny. Did he have this effect on every woman he met? She put out a hand in greeting.

"In that case, please call me Braxiatel, or even Brax. All my close friends call me that," Braxiatel offered, accepting her handshake. "Your grandfather tells me that you may be able to assist me in my quest."

"Did he? Trust him to volunteer me," she quipped. "What exactly are you after? Only… I'm normally a secretarial temp, although I've just finished a work placement in Hounslow Library."

Braxiatel's expression lit up in interest. "Is that so? I myself am an archivist, of books and other precious artefacts; so we share a common interest." He beamed with delight at this find. Not only was she very pleasant to look at, she also evidently shared some of his passions.

"I was just telling him how you are good at finding stuff," Wilf added, hoping he was helping in this little scenario. "On the computer and all that." He then added in a mimed impression of typing on a computer keyboard.

Donna watched the action with dismay. What must this Brax think of her? "Yes, I can type," she stated hesitantly. "Did you need me to get on the computer?"

What he really wanted to do was use her computer himself, but Braxiatel knew that she might be able to find what he needed much quicker since she was familiar with the system on this planet. "Yes please." He smiled his sweetest smile. "I need to locate a wedding venue, accommodation, an officiant, and a possible honeymoon location."

"Is that all?" she teased, thinking that he didn't want much! "Then you'd better follow me."

Donna led Braxiatel to her computer that sat in the corner of the front room; and in next to no time she had it booted up and searching out what he wanted. Braxiatel was very impressed that within half an hour she had established the fact that River had already booked and paid for a venue, and the officiant. All he had to do was arrange accommodation, and that was very quickly achieved with Donna's help. Less than an hour later they were sitting happily sharing another cup of tea.

Now on to more delicate things. Braxiatel carefully put his tea cup down and opened the conversation that would possible solve a different matter. "Your grandfather tells me that your father is not too well."

Donna shot him a surprised look, and then deflated as unwanted thoughts bombarded her. "Yes, he's not got long, they've told us. The cancer has spread further than they thought at first. But he's staying chipper," she tried to say matter of factly.

"And do you have any particular plans? I mean, any last minute things he'd like to achieve?" Braxiatel wondered softly.

"Well…," she began to answer, and hastily wiped away a tear. "I want to buy him the telescope he's always wanted."

"Is it very expensive?" he asked.

"And the rest!" she snorted in scorn. "Those things cost an arm and a leg if you want a decent one."

"How near are you to getting the one he wants?"

"About as far as it is from here to Timbuktu," she reluctantly admitted. "I'll never be able to afford it at this rate."

Here was his cue! Braxiatel leaned forward and placed a consoling hand over hers. "How about I help you with that? I could help you earn that money."

She started and whipped away her hand. "Here! What are you suggesting?! I'm no tart!" she exclaimed.

"Nothing untoward, I promise, Donna," he reassured her, smiling gently. "I merely have a business proposition."

"Good! 'Cos I'm having none of that business!" she blustered, shaking herself in relief. "I've had that trick played on me too often."

His hearts softened at her hurtful tone. "Oh Donna, why would anyone be so cruel to you? No, I merely want to ask a favour from you, and I am very willing to pay for your time," he soothed her.

"Nothing dodgy?" she wondered faintly.

He shook his head. "Nothing dodgy at all."