Chapter 3

It had been a long month.

Several times Donna had come very close to walking away but she'd made it to the end of February. She could do this. Whether or not she could do it without murdering Peter remained to be seen though. He absolutely infuriated her, without fail, almost every time she encountered him but she wasn't going to give up on him because Peter Vincent was a lie. His memories – and everything that he thought was his life – was in reality, fiction. Donna just didn't have the heart to tell him.

During the first few days she'd worked for him, she'd managed to piece together the reality that Peter had constructed to explain their acquaintance. It had taken a fair amount of cajoling to get the story from him because from Peter's perspective, Donna had lived through the events herself. Now a month into her time in Las Vegas, Donna was fairly comfortable with the back story Peter had concocted. She'd never gone to school at "The Academy" nor had she spent her university years emailing Peter after he'd moved to America. Those were the easy lies to tell. It didn't take skill to laugh along at Peter's "old school jokes" or reminisce about "English with Mrs Buckley". Peter believed it had happened and Donna simply went along with it. Occasionally he'd look at her strangely, wondering why she'd forgotten such an important detail of their lives together but it was never enough to make him doubt his memories.

The hardest lies to tell were those that pertained to the significant events in Peter's life. There was a day in Peter's life when his world had gone to hell. It was the day that mattered most to him and it was the reason Peter counted Donna as his most trusted friend. Because as far as he was concerned it was the day Donna had been there for him when no one else had. Something had happened on that day that had devastated him but he had never once elaborated on what had occurred. The one time he'd alluded to the day he'd been very drunk and very upset about something. Donna had no idea what had set him off but as she'd helped him to his room he'd rambled on about the number of times she'd been there for him. Foremost in his thoughts had been "the day" but by that point Donna hadn't had the heart to tell him that she'd had no idea what he was talking about.

After that, she'd never had the courage to question him further about that day. Whatever had happened had traumatised him but she'd convinced herself that it was simply part of Peter's back story. Fiction, like everything else he believed. The hard truth was that no matter how real it seemed to Peter it hadn't happened to the Doctor and that was the crux of the matter for Donna: separating the Doctor from Peter Vincent.

As had become a frustratingly regular occurrence, Donna once more found herself cleaning up after Peter Vincent. The day had not started well and it seemed to be determined to progress in a similar fashion for its entirety. Not only had Peter been late for his first meeting of the day but he'd turned up drunk. Until three days ago he'd been surprisingly compliant with her requirements for sobriety whilst working. Well, mostly sober. Now though, he seemed to have lost the plot spectacularly.

Two evenings ago he'd drunk himself into a complete stupor which had meant the management were forced to cancel that night's showing of Fright Night. Donna had been absolutely furious as she'd had to spend most of that night and the following morning making promise after promise that it wouldn't happen again as she placated his various sponsors and the management at Hard Rock. Of course the entire time she'd been running damage control he'd been passed out in his bedroom, oblivious to the mayhem he'd brought down upon Donna. She almost would have forgiven him if she hadn't gone up to check on him mid-afternoon and found him pouring himself a drink the moment he'd woken up.

The row that had followed had been colossal and Donna had been very close to leaving for good that afternoon. They'd both said a lot of things that probably needed to be unsaid at some point before he'd stormed into his bedroom and started hurling clothes out of his room. It was only then that Donna had learnt that Ginger had left him: for good. He'd seemed genuinely devastated by Ginger's decision and once he'd stopped trying to destroy all of her remaining possessions he'd broken down in his bedroom. Donna had let him cry it out before sending him downstairs to get ready for the night's performance. She wasn't sure why she was so surprised when she found him leading two blondes upstairs the night after his dumping. Francesca, who'd been standing by Donna, had simply rolled her eyes at the sight before collecting her papers and bidding Donna goodnight.

The fact that he'd seemingly gotten over Francesca so quickly left Donna bewildered as to why his behaviour continued to remain so destructive today. Throughout the tech rehearsal that afternoon he'd hurled abuse liberally and several of the special effects assistants had begged her to have a word with him before the show that evening. Donna really wasn't looking forward to that task. She'd been looking for him for a good twenty minutes now and it was only when she stumbled into the back alley outside the stage door – quite by accident – that she finally caught up with him.

He was still dressed in costume, sprawled on the fire escape steps as he smoked something that looked suspiciously like a joint to Donna. He looked up as she approached, smirking at being caught out. The grin didn't reach his eyes though and Donna knew then that something was up.

'Angel wrapped me a few last night. Wanna puff?' he asked idly, obnoxiously exhaling into Donna's face as he offered her the joint.

'No?' he continued when she refused to rise to the bait, simply seating herself beside him on the step. 'That's ok, more for me.'

Peter continued to smoke the joint, occasionally glancing over at Donna as she sat silently beside him. He'd finally gotten bored of attempting to entice a reaction from her – by blowing smoke rings at her – when Donna finally spoke up.

'What's going on in that head of yours Vampire boy?' she asked sadly. She was tired of constantly being at odds with him.

'I don't know anymore,' he murmured quietly. He was looking at her but in that moment he seemed a million miles away. Something was clearly troubling him.

'Well I don't think that's going to help,' Donna stated, nodding pointedly at the joint he still clutched.

'No,' he agreed dismally, 'but it helps me forget.'

He took a long drag on the joint before letting it fall from his fingers. Lazily he stubbed it out, grinding it purposefully into a pulp. Donna watched him silently, he looked so troubled. She let out an exaggerated sigh before deliberately putting her dark red folder to the side. Reaching over she pulled him into her side. He stiffened for a moment in surprise before relaxing and allowing his head to come to rest upon her shoulder. They sat like that for a moment – Donna's arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders – before she spoke.

'Want to talk about it?'

It wasn't a demand, just an offer to be his friend and listen. It was something Peter needed.

'You wouldn't believe me if I told you,' he murmured quietly. Donna jumped a little in surprise as he broke the silence that had stretched out steadily between them. She'd assumed he wasn't going to answer.

She shrugged slightly as she considered his words. 'Try me,' was all she said.

'I keep having these dreams,' he began slowly. 'It's fucking mental...but I keep dreaming that I'm someone else...this man who travels through the universe.'

Donna's breath caught at his words. It was the first time Peter had mentioned something that was directly related to the Doctor. She kept quiet though, unwilling to spook him as he opened up to her.

'Everything about him is destructive...his life is full of war and blood and terror. Entire planets have burnt before him and he simply walks away...he's not even human,' Peter finished despondently.

'"He?"'

'"The Doctor,"' Peter grumbled. 'That's what he calls himself: a man who heals. It's all a lie though; he has so much blood on his hands. He knows it too. It's why he always runs away.'

Peter broke off for a moment.

'That's the character I've dreamed up,' he finished poignantly, his gaze fixed on the ground.

The pair descended into silence as Donna mulled over his words. It was clear Peter had no love for the man he was in his dreams but his words gave Donna hope. The Doctor was still there somewhere, locked away in Peter's dreams. She worried for Peter though. Regardless of where the Doctor was the man before her believed he truly was Peter Vincent. And Peter Vincent was terrified by the "character" he'd dreamed up. Donna couldn't help but wonder if Peter's terror was greater because he somehow knew the Doctor was him. Did the Doctor truly despise himself that much, she wondered sadly.

'How fucked up is that?' Peter murmured into the silence, letting out a breath as he pulled away from Donna.

He looked vulnerable as he waited for her to say something. His eyes were full of hope and fear. Hope that she wouldn't dismiss him as mad and fear that she'd believe his story. She offered him a small smile.

'Maybe you should try writing these dreams down in a notebook or something?' she suggested. 'It might help you put it all together.'

He looked sceptical. 'I'm not a bloody basket case.'

'I never said you were,' Donna replied calmly. 'But maybe it's your subconscious' way of telling you something?'

He snorted. 'Reminding me how much I hate myself?' he suggested self-deprecatingly.

She shook her head sadly. Peter had so little faith in himself.

'I think it's much more likely that it's your subconscious reminding you to do as your manager says,' she replied smugly, opting for levity.

Peter chuckled, the cloud that had been hanging over him lifting a little.

'And what would my wonderful manager demand of me today?'

'A little patience,' she said gently. 'Please don't yell at the staff. I've told you how much I dislike that Hard Rock lawyer.'

He smirked slightly at that, recalling several "discussions" they'd had on the topic when Donna had been forced into hour-long meetings with the prat because Peter had done something questionable.

'I'll try my best,' he agreed.

o0o

Donna lurked in the wings backstage as she watched the show. It wasn't in her job description to watch every performance but she'd discovered Peter was generally a little less likely to "ad lib" if she was somewhere within slapping distance. Francesca stood by her, sorting Donna's papers for the next day. Occasionally the girl would eye the new female lead critically but mostly she focused on her own work. Two weeks into the job, Donna had requisitioned Francesca as her personal assistant. Peter had not been happy about her request but begrudgingly he'd agreed to let her go from the dance troupe. They'd still been dating at the time and Donna suspected Francesca had convinced him in the bedroom that her happiness – which should have been Peter's prerogative – would be assured if she was working as a PA rather than a dancer.

When Donna had learnt of Francesca and Peter's separation she'd felt rather guilty because she was more than a little responsible for Francesca's sudden change in profession. Peter had been particularly cruel one evening, expecting Francesca to join in on his shenanigans without complaint. The young girl had told him exactly where to shove that idea before storming off backstage. Donna had found her in the empty make-up room and that was when they'd had a little chat. The ramifications of which Donna was certain had doomed Peter and Francesca's relationship.

'He's such an arrogant prick,' Francesca had mumbled when Donna had found her. She'd wiped away the majority of her tears by then but it was clear she'd been crying. With a supreme amount of effort Donna had managed to refrain from listing each and every fault she'd noted in Peter's character since she'd begun working for him. Instead she'd offered Francesca a tissue and some words of advice.

'Do you love him Francesca or is he simply a means to an end?'

Francesca had seemed rather startled by the question but she'd answered honestly.

'Sometimes I think I do. But now? No. Every night it gets harder and harder to love him.'

'Does he love you?'

Francesca had laughed at that and simply shrugged. The non-answer was answer enough for Donna.

'You need him for your green card, don't you?' she'd pushed gently.

Francesca nodded.

'That doesn't sound like the best foundation for a relationship does it?'

'No.'

'Perhaps if you separated the green card from Peter you might find the relationship becomes one of equals rather than one where you're dependent on him.'

They'd spoken for a while longer which was when Donna had offered Francesca a job as her personal assistant. She didn't strictly need a PA but if it meant fewer tears in the long run, Donna was happy to offer. For Francesca, a job as a PA looked much more impressive on her CV then headlining a dance troupe and it meant she wasn't entirely reliant on a partnership with Peter for her green card. Surprisingly things had briefly looked up for Francesca and Peter's relationship but in the end Francesca had finally had enough and she'd gotten out. Donna had been secretly rather impressed with the girl's sass despite the fiasco the dumping had caused. Still she did feel rather guilty for interfering in the relationship.

Donna was roused from her reminiscence by the sound of applause, signalling the end of the show. As the curtain fell there was the normal hubbub as artists fled the stage and stage hands moved in to power down the equipment for the night. Peter stalked past her on his way to the stage door, undoubtedly off to pick his conquest for the night. Regardless of the number of chats Donna had had with him nothing would deter Peter from befriending a fan for the evening. Since Francesca had left him it often ended up being more than one fan which drove Donna barmy. In the end she'd simply pulled him aside and forced several boxes of condoms onto the man with strict instructions to use them liberally or she'd personally castrate him. She didn't want to imagine the legal ramifications that would arise if one of Peter's flings fell pregnant. Nor did she want to imagine the Doctor's reaction – if she ever managed to get him back – to suddenly finding himself a father.

Slowly the noise began to die down as cast members made their way home and crew dispersed for the evening. Peter had disappeared upstairs and Francesca had gone home for the night. Donna was left in Peter's dressing room, diligently replacing his schedule for the next morning – she doubted he ever read the itineraries she left taped to his mirror – and busily running damage control on Twitter. Thankfully there appeared to be nothing too outrageous. She'd just stuck the itinerary up, making sure to deliberately place it in the centre of his mirror so he'd at least have to glance at it in the morning, when she heard a crash back stage. Flicking the light off in Peter's dressing room she went to investigate.

Making her way through the props department she found herself in one of the storage units backstage. The lights were dim and ahead of her one of the lights flickered dismally before going out entirely. She'd never explored this far backstage and she wondered briefly if she should turn back, almost certain that she'd stumbled into a limited access area. She was just about to leave when there was a thud and a muffled curse from just ahead.

'Hello?' she called out, nervous despite herself. The darkness was giving her the creeps. Of course the sound just had to have come from beneath the light that had flickered out seconds ago, she thought sardonically. Holding her phone ahead of her like a beacon she stepped further into the shadows. 'Is there anybody here?'

There was movement to her left and Donna leapt back in shock, letting out a small scream as a woman appeared before her. She was slightly taller than Donna with blonde hair that glowed eerily in the light cast by the mobile phone.

'Sorry!' the woman called out, apologetically. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.'

Donna took a step back towards the light and the woman followed. As she stepped into the proper light Donna got a good look at her.

'Donna!?' the woman exclaimed in surprise.

'How do you know my name?' Donna asked reflexively, studying the younger woman suspiciously. The stranger seemed shocked by Donna's arrival.

'Who are you?' Donna demanded.

The younger woman gazed steadily at Donna, her gaze searching for something in the older woman's face. After a long moment something akin to understanding flashed briefly across the girl's face and her features relaxed, making her seem years younger than she was. Shoving her hands deep into the blue bomber jacket she wore the stranger stepped forward to meet Donna.

'I'm Rose. Rose Tyler.'