Part 3
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All they'd done was saunter out of the TARDIS and some idiot soldier had grabbed the Doctor's hand and shoved it into a machine; a cloning machine at that! None of them had been expecting a living adult to emerge when the machine door opened, especially one that cheerily declared, "Hello Dad!"
As usual, the Doctor had stepped in front of Donna to protect her from any possible attack. She still wasn't showing very much, so he hoped against hope that the soldiers wouldn't be interested in using her pregnancy against them. And as usual, somebody had to use their seen relationship against them. When Cobb had accused Donna of being the Doctor's woman as he threatened them, they'd made their normal denials, though they'd come out a bit feeble now that the Doctor thought about it.
And then things started to get worse. The soldier clone had set off an explosive that possibly injured Martha, if not worse; definitely separating them, and that made him mad. Fuming in fact! But inevitably it was Donna that told the clone off. The Doctor chuckled as he heard her insult the clone with the name G.I. Jane!
Hormones were running quite high on Messaline, making Donna very crotchety. Yes, him and Donna snarked at each other quite a lot that day compared to normal. Well, it was all her fault! Trying to get him to acknowledge the clone was his daughter, indeed, when she clearly wasn't. He was no more her father than he was Donna's child's… Ah, that brought up some painful thoughts.
And Donna had gone straight into mother-mode, talking to the girl, telling her about him, about life with him; and she went and named her Jenny. Why did she do that? Naming her made it all real, made her part of their family; made her his to protect.
He'd tried to ignore all that as he picked an argument with Donna in a cell; well, he tried and failed, to be honest. And when Donna had suggested testing out her womanly wiles on some hapless unimportant guard… he had nipped that little idea in the bud! No one got to test out her wiles before he did, for goodness sake!
For a long time he thought he had known what the worse thing happening could have been. He'd thought wrong. There is nothing that can prepare you for the death of a child.
The Doctor had never felt as numb as he did when they trooped back to the TARDIS. He had gone through the motions as they returned to earth to take Martha home, and had only started to feel better when Donna had surreptitiously squeezed his hand. He knew he would need her comfort that night, so her protest to Martha that she would travel with him forever had been a balm on his soul.
Too many hurtful thoughts had bombarded his mind as he stood at the console; so many he had almost not heard Donna sidle up and ask how he was. "See that there," she had said pressing her hands over his hearts, "it doesn't hurt because it was wrong to let her in; it hurts because you cared."
He could help smiling at that; the fact she had encouraged him to go on and find a new planet for Jenny. It was exactly what he wanted to hear. He needed a reason to carry on. And he thought he was coping so well with it all; right up until they had their evening cup of tea.
Donna had leant across to hold his hand, and asked him softly, "How are you doing, Dr Husband?"
He had gone to answer, but the words stuck in his throat. "Not so well, Mrs Wife. I need…"
She had been there like a shot, hugging him tightly. "Come to bed, and we'll do this properly," she had whispered.
"Can I stay tonight?" he had whispered back. "Stay properly, I mean."
"Of course; I'm not letting you go this time," she had soothed him. So he had stayed in the bed this time, held within her warm embrace, as he cried.
It was to be the first of many nights that he climbed in next to Donna, glorifying in her comfort and the heat that radiated from her body. Who needed a hot water bottle when you had that sort of thing on tap? She certainly eased the coldness that could have so easily engulfed his soul.
Not that she hadn't complained about him when he pressed up next to her in order to spoon into her back. "You're bloody freezing!" she had spat out.
He in turn had wanted to point out that was the point of lying so close to her; he needed warming up. Thank goodness he had removed most of his clothes because he was in danger of sweltering if not cooking beneath the amount of covers Donna had on her bed.
The funny thing is, once you get over the embarrassment of being under the covers in an intimate situation that doesn't bother you when you sit on a sofa, and all the worse tears have been wept, that leaves the arguments as you settle into a new routine.
"Do you have to take all the covers?" Donna kept accusing him, when he inevitably turned over to escape being boiled alive and then lost all that body heat.
"I don't do that!" the Doctor had instantly denied. "You're the one that won't share. That's when you're not trying to hog the whole bed."
"You what? Well you know what to do if you don't like it, Sunshine! Go sling your hook back to your own bed," Donna had argued, clasping her side of the covers firmly within her grip.
"I never said I wanted to leave," he huffed back. "I just want my fair share of the bed."
She had smirked back at him. "Why is it then that you spend most of the time on my side?"
"Well," he mumbled in embarrassment, and plucked absently at his share of the covers. "That's because you are over there."
"I take it you want another cuddle then?" she offered, holding out her arms in invite.
"If you're offering," the Doctor quickly replied, and scooted over to make the most of it. "Good night, Mrs Wife," he said, kissing her forehead.
"Good night, Dr Husband," she replied, kissing his cheek. "And keep those cold feet to yourself."
The Doctor merely giggled in return as he snuggled into her.
"Let's see where we end up today," the Doctor said, beaming at the console. "Press the random button, Donna."
"Are you sure you want to let me?" she asked, unsure why he was letting her do such an important thing. "I might mess up."
"Donna! How can you mess up pressing a simple button?" he quizzed her with a quirk of an eyebrow.
"It's part of my natural talent. You wouldn't believe how much damage I caused with a bag of humbugs," she confessed, still looking apprehensive.
"Humbugs?" the Doctor echoed. "Never mind, you can tell me later in bed." With a dismissive sniff he leaned over and pressed the random button. "See! Nothing got messed up," he pointed out smugly.
"That's because I didn't touch it," Donna insisted, much to his annoyance.
He merely groaned, held out his hand, and led her out into the warm sunshine of 1920s England.
The Doctor had proudly escorted Donna into the cocktail party on the lawn of Eddison Manor. She looked absolutely lovely, and they'd found a dress that hid her baby bump so Donna was feeling very confident.
The minx had tried to make him jealous though by flirting briefly with the Lady of the manor's son, Roger. It was obvious after a while that the boy was gay, but for a moment she had the Doctor on the defensive. "All the best ones are on the other bus," she had cheekily told him.
So of course he had retorted, "Or Time Lords." It stood to reason, after all. He would have said something else to burst her bubble, but at that point they'd been introduced to Agatha Christie. THE Agatha Christie! Donna had then pulled faces at him as he did his fangirly act. He couldn't help it; he was a massive fan.
"You two make an unusual couple," Agatha had remarked; and they'd both looked at their wedding rings. How do you deny such a relationship after that? You can't; so they'd both laughed knowingly.
He got his own back, by declaring she was his plucky young female assistant later on. She didn't laugh then; especially when he handed her an enormous magnifying glass.
"Ginger beer?" He had thrown the question at the footman as he strove to find the cure for his cyanide poisoning. Even in the midst of his pain, the Doctor had the feeling Donna would give him what for over using that term. He hadn't meant to publically accuse the footman of being gay; it just sort of came out in the heat of the moment.
That accidental accusation wasn't the only thing that came out in the heat of the moment. There was a fair bit of stupidity on Donna's part; and the Doctor made a mental note to never have her on his team if they played charades against Torchwood. No, the main heat of the moment thing happened when he demanded a shock, a big shock, to aid his detox.
He stared at her. Donna had kissed him! She had actually, properly, kissed him! And he couldn't believe what a lame response had come out of his mouth. "I must do that again," he'd said. Well! He had just been through a detox in order not to die, for goodness sake! Give a Time Lord a break!
"Donna…," he had started to say to her, when they got the chance to draw breath.
"Later, Spaceman," she had instantly replied; shutting him up on that topic for the time being. But he would return to it; oh yes!
But first he had a mystery to solve; and unfortunately it didn't involve those pesky kids.
Back home in the kitchen she was avoiding looking at him. It was so unlike her to do that.
"Tea?" she had asked, and turned so that he couldn't see her face. He thought that was decidedly odd.
So he had deliberately sidled up to her to find out why. "Mrs Wife, what's the matter?" he gently asked as an opener for their conversation.
"Nothing!"
She'd almost flinched away from him. He knew it couldn't be the tone of his voice, so it must have been his words; or two words in particular. "Have I said something wrong?" he pressed her. "Do I… Should I stop calling you 'Mrs Wife'? Don't you like it anymore?"
"It's…" She turned her teary eyed face to look him square in the eye. "I don't know what I think anymore! I'm not sure if I should call you 'Dr Husband', because… it suddenly feels wrong," she finished saying in a small voice.
He immediately hugged her tightly, and kissed her forehead; just like he normally did. "There's nothing to worry about. It's you and me again; no prying Martha, no disapproving people. Just us and junior to concern ourselves with," he told her as brightly as he could. "I'll put the kettle on and we'll have a nice cup of tea."
"Thank you!" she replied, and kissed his cheek in return. Her relief was almost tangible.
"We'll have this cuppa, and then you, young lady, are going to have some rest," he insisted.
"But Doctor…," she began to protest.
"No buts! We have to think of junior here," he pointed out; and gave into his need to caress her baby bump. "He'll thank you for it later."
Donna gave a wry chuckle. "What makes you think he gives a monkey's?"
"Of course he'll care! With us as his parents he can't fail to," the Doctor argued; and added in a pout for good measure.
"A pretend marriage, and pretend fatherhood. Blimey! Isn't all this a bit too domestic for you?" she teased him.
"I wouldn't have it any other way… now about this tea," he said, deliberately distracting her.
"I told you, I don't need to lie down," Donna griped as the Doctor almost dragged her into the bedroom.
"And I told you that you have to. Trust me; I'm a doctor," he retorted. He got the answering laugh he was after. He sat on the bed and pulled her down to him. "Now listen, Mrs Wife; you are going to lie here for at least an hour. And if you are good, I shall stay here with you."
"Are you not well, Dr Husband," she mocked him, feeling his brow. "Don't you have some emergency repair to do with the dooflippery?"
"No!" he replied indignantly. "You make me sound bad." He then beamed cheerily at her, "I did almost die earlier, remember. I have your detox technique to thank."
Donna immediately blushed a deep shade of pink. "I didn't do anything much," she mumbled.
"I don't call saving my life anything!" He laid down, and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her forehead. "Your quick thinking saved the day. Or should that be phrased 'saved the Time Lord'?"
Her hand fluttered across his chest. "Anyone could have thought of using a kiss like that to shock you," she said modestly.
"Ah, but it wasn't just the fact it was a kiss, it was the way you kissed me," he clarified.
She lifted her head to blink in confusion at him. "It was only a kiss like this." And she kissed his cheek with a bit more force than normal.
He brought a hand up to rub a thumb tenderly along her jaw. "You know, you can kiss me in other places, if you want to," he suggested.
"Like where? Are we drawing up a list?" she teased him.
"If you like," he said mischievously. "We could start with here…" He kissed her cheek. "There's here…" He kissed the tip of her nose, ever mindful whether she liked this or not. She didn't seem to mind; so he took the next step. "And I thought I'd try here…" He placed a brief, chaste kiss upon her lips.
"Well, that's four places to consider," she commented.
"Except I was suggesting you do the kissing," he murmured next to her mouth. "I can demonstrate what I mean."
As he crept closer still, Donna brought up her hand and pushed him away; much to his surprise. "I can't!" she told him forlornly. "It isn't you, it's me; honest it is. I think you're really lovely, and I'm tremendously flattered but… I haven't done anything like this since Peter and I'm not sure I should."
"Oh!" the Doctor responded as best he could in the circumstances; but he felt so utterly rejected. "I wasn't trying to step on any toes…"
"You're not," she insisted, grabbing hold of his hands. "I'm not saying that you can't kiss me; I'm saying I won't necessarily kiss you back."
"I see," he said, not really seeing at all but knowing from living with Donna that one of the things you don't do as a bloke is argue with a pregnant woman. Logic doesn't always make an appearance. Perhaps it is also on another bus?
"I'm so glad you understand!" she exclaimed, and threw her arms around his neck to give him a grateful hug.
He happily returned it. "So, can we still do all the other stuff? Has anything changed?" he wondered apprehensively.
"You big softie!" she chided him. "You can still sleep in here, and have all your hugs. The only difference is that you don't have to kiss me only on the forehead."
"And what about you?" he tried to clarify. "Are you sticking to only cheeks?"
She pulled back to give him a mischievous grin. "We'll see what happens, shall we?"
He beamed happily at her before seeking out another hug.
"Did you see what happened to my book, Mrs Wife?" he asked as he swept his gaze over the bedside table and then bent down low to look under the bed.
"What book, Dr Husband? If you mean the 'Designs of the Alkarian Mularkan Drive for Geeks', I put it back in the library," she explained as she lay in the bed watching him expectantly. She then put her own book down to peer over the side of the bed with him.
"Aw, I wanted to keep that book in here; but no, I meant my 'A Dad's Guide to Babycare'. I'm sure I left it right here," he said as he looked up at her. Doing so, he suddenly had the mad urge to kiss her, and not just on the forehead.
"You've thought of something, haven't you? You've gone all mushy thinking about junior," she softly accused him.
He immediately blushed to the tips of his ears, and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "No," he denied. "I wasn't thinking of being mushy."
She patted the bed in invitation. "Get up here then."
As he clambered onto the bed, Donna reached for him, wrapping her arms around his waist to draw his body closer. "See, I'm not all mushy," he pointed out in a low voice. He promptly felt himself almost go all mushy when she lifted a hand to tenderly caress his face.
"You may be a lot of things but you are never mushy, my spaceman," she whispered.
He geared himself up to kiss her; to properly taste her lips without fear of dying or a mouthful of condiments. Momentarily checking that she wasn't pulling away from him, he pressed forward and placed his lips on her mouth. Her lips were soft, very soft; but that was it. There was no returning pressure from her, so he reluctantly stopped. "Too soon?" he asked.
Before answering him, she kissed his cheek. "Still too soon. Sorry."
He then conjured up all his courage to ask, "Do you want me to take you to see Peter?" He could almost feel the bile rising from his stomach into his mouth as he said the name.
"No," she insisted with a shake of her head. "I'm definitely not ready for that yet."
With heavy hearts he nestled them down into their usual sleeping position, and tried desperately not to be disappointed. She had said the word 'yet'. That sort of implied that she would want to see Peter in the future. Did that also mean she would go off with Peter if the opportunity arose? Would she leave him? He couldn't bear the thought of losing her; not now. Not after they'd been through so much together.
He absolutely dreaded what could be coming up in their future.
