Part Seven
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"Morning! There's tea in the pot if you want some," Sylvia trilled from her seat at the table as soon as she saw her father enter the kitchen. She lowered her mug of tea from her lips to ask quietly, "Did he go in to her after all?" Tilting her head, she indicated the possible movements of the Doctor above.
"What? Err..." Wilf cagily dithered.
"It's alright," she assured him. "I knew he might. I heard him thrashing about in bed last night, all upset and yearning for her to comfort him," she explained. "And I know for a fact that they don't get up to anything despite him worshiping the ground she walks on. You just have to watch him to know he adores her; but the faces he was pulling last night before you took pity and dragged him out! You should have seen him! Mortified he was. It answered any lingering worries I might have had."
Now both pleased and relieved he could talk about it, Wilf readily joined her at the table. "He's up there hugging the stuffing out of her as though, if he let go, he'd drop through the ceiling. Yes, I heard his whimpers too in the night. Poor bloke. Must've had it harsh in his life to be like that."
Sylvia nodded sympathetically. Not knowing what else to add, she offered, "Do you want some toast and more tea?"
"Oh! I said I'd do that," he remembered.
"No, you sit there. You'd only make a mess," she insisted as she got up from her seat.
But Wilf could see through her bravado, and knew she wanted to fuss over them affectionately in the only way she knew how. "I'd love some, thanks," he accepted, sitting back in his chair. "The thing is," he began his thought, "I know it's obvious to us how much they love each other but is it clear as day to them?"
From her spot by the toaster, she scowled at him. "What do you mean?"
"Well, Donna seems frightened to show him she cares that much," he observed.
"That might be my fault," Sylvia guiltily replied, "since I haven't exactly welcomed him appearing with her in the past."
"But even so," Wilf argued, "all that's changed now. When you think about it, why don't we ever catch them snogging each other, or trying to do more? It ain't natural I tell you for an engaged couple of their age these days. And don't look at me like that! You know it's true. They're living together, for goodness sake, so it's not as though they have never had the opportunity to get up to anything in secret."
"Perhaps he is determined to be a true gentleman by considering her honour. Might be the true reason they wanted to get married as soon as possible," Sylvia reasoned.
"No, I don't think it is, because I found... Hello sweetheart," he instantly changed topic and tone as his granddaughter swept into the kitchen. "How are you feeling? Not too nervous, I hope."
"Morning," Donna greeted both of them, adding in a kiss. "A little bit nervous but you'd expect that."
"Is his lordship up yet?"
"I wish you wouldn't call him that. But anyway, he's in the bathroom and won't be long," Donna supplied. Relief filled her that they hadn't mentioned the little matter of the Doctor being in her bed. Yet.
"I'll put some more toast on," Sylvia stated. "You sit yourself down and rest. Dad, can you pour the tea out please?"
"Will do," Wilf readily agreed.
Feeling quite as her family bustled around her, trying to make her day the best it could, Donna deliberately wondered, "What time is the taxi booked for?"
The rest of breakfast was spent going over their final wedding details.
o0o
Standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Donna to appear should not have been nerve wracking. Nevertheless, the Doctor stood frantically adjusting his jacket sleeve around the new cuff links he'd been given as a wedding gift from his beloved. They featured a spider sitting on a star. Very apt he'd thought, and a lovely memento of the way they'd first met. And first married.
Well, sort of. If you wanted to look at it that way. Donna had teased him about the likelihood of carrying a wedding ring about in your pocket on the off chance you might suddenly need it. She'd even accused him of having it there waiting for the right moment with Rose.
Of course, he'd told her it was a mere coincidence that the TARDIS had put it in his pocket that very moment, that very second, he'd met Donna, rather than been carried about beforehand. It was almost as if the TARDIS were handing him Donna as a bride on a plate even back then.
Her scoff of disbelief both pleased and disappointed him. Yes, he wanted Donna to put him down when necessary, but he certainly didn't like the idea that she was harbouring misgivings about her status in his life. By the time he'd met Donna the second time he'd been long resolved with the idea that Rose was firmly in his past and that any romantic notion he might have formed about her would never be.
After all, if he'd been adamant about chasing after a love life, he could easily have gone back and lived such a life with Joan Redfern; but he hadn't. Had hardly given it any thought. Well, there'd been the odd daydream or two he'd allowed himself during his incarceration onboard the Valiant.
Best not to think about that time.
The good that had come out of it was that he knew what he wanted, here and now. Or rather, who he wanted. And he was marrying her that very morning. A happy accident, maybe, but he was welcoming the experience with open arms.
"Aren't you ready yet?" he called up the staircase.
"Just coming now," Donna huffed in return, clearly at the top of the stairs judging by the change in the volume of her voice. "They can't do the wedding without us."
"Yes, but we do have to actually be there," he retorted, and then caught sight of her in her wedding outfit as she descended the stairs, with Sylvia close behind. He gasped in appreciation, "You look lovely."
"You always say that," she dismissed coyly, and then smiled at him with quiet pride. "It doesn't look too much?" she sought to confirm.
He swept his gaze down to take in the view of the cream coloured jacquard dress and jacket ensemble she wore and grinned broadly. "Couldn't be lovelier," he assured her. "Beautiful, in fact."
She instantly swatted his shoulder. "Give over," she chastised in embarrassment.
"I only speak the truth, don't I, Sylvia?"
"He's right. You look lovely," Sylvia readily agreed.
"Wonderful," Wilf added in his two pennyworth as he joined them from the lounge. "Never seen you so radiant. Must be love," he reasoned.
"Well..." Donna blushed, not knowing whether to admit or deny it. Instead, she changed the subject. "Are we going to get in this taxi or what?"
The Doctor merely smirked, took hold of her hand to rest it on his arm, and guided her out to the waiting taxi.
When several neighbours turned out to be waiting outside to see them off with a cheer, she felt like the Queen.
o0o
It's a sham, she had to keep telling herself as they approached the registry office in the taxi. Trouble was, the way the Doctor held onto her hand and calmed her nerves seemed to contradict all that. It felt real. Too real. Even her mum and Gramps' smiles didn't quell the dread in the pit of her stomach.
What if the Doctor suddenly declared it was a joke set up with the help by his old friend the Brigadier? Or the wedding officiant turned out to be a blood-sucking alien out to kidnap the Doctor? Martha could appear, screaming it should have been her. Not that logic said it would be her but someone else entirely who popped up out of the blue to lay claim on him. Someone named Rose Tyler.
Spotting a young woman with blonde hair glaring at the taxi as it neared the council buildings made Donna instantly shudder.
"Are you alright?" the Doctor whispered into her ear, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.
She gawped at him for a second. "I thought I saw…," she began to answer, and then decided to dismiss it. "It's nothing. Just my imagination playing tricks on me."
"I double checked," he reassured her, "that nothing happens on this date in this vicinity to harm our wedding. I'm here to keep you safe."
That made her lift an eyebrow in amusement. "Are you sure about that?" she questioned.
"Well," he blustered. "As near to it as I can. But I promise that nothing untoward will affect today."
"Thanks." She smiled her gratitude at him as the taxi stopped. "It's showtime."
"Doing anything special?" he asked nonchalantly to make her laugh.
"Oh, you know," she answered in kind as he guided her onto the pavement. "Thought I might get married today."
He grinned; visibly preening himself. "Anyone I might know?"
"He's tall, devilishly handsome, apparently, and really clever. Not your every day genius type of clever either. So no, I don't think you know him at all," she teased.
"Shame," he replied. "Because I just might marry you myself."
"Can you hear him, Dad?" Sylvia commented to Wilf, giving his arm a nudge in delight as they walked through the doors that led to the registry office.
Wilf merely gave her a pleased smiling expression in return. He was too busy listening and revelling in the conversation between his granddaughter and his soon to be grandson-in-law.
Outside on the pavement, the blonde woman blinked out of existence; unseen.
o0o
