A/N: sorry to anyone that was waiting for an update.
Part 8
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One of the weirdest new developments in Donna's life was how happy everyone in the theatre seemed to be lately. It had been Carlos the backstage electrician who had voiced it first. "Dunno what's happened to Peter lately, but you've used some awesome magic on him to make him like this."
As if on cue, Peter had sauntered passed and given her a beautiful smile as he went by. Not one word of criticism had come from his lips.
"Yeah, that's what I mean," Carlos had confirmed. "Whatever it is, keep doing it."
"Oh, I'm not doing anything to him," she had modestly denied.
In reply, Carlos had rasped a filthy laugh. "Must be what he's doing to you."
Before she could utter a decent repost, Carlos had gone back to his lighting rig, but it had Donna thinking. Was everyone aware of her intimate relationship with Peter? Although she wasn't surprised that they'd become the subject of gossip. Not in the least.
Just then, Peter came running back up to her and given her a resounding smacker on the lips. "Forgot to give you that," he excused himself when she looked stunned at his public display of affection. "See you later, babe."
Well, that answered that one, she silently noted; and treated herself to watching his backside saunter away in those black leather trousers of his. Then, when she couldn't linger any longer, she made her way to her office to finish off her tasks there.
Sharing a meal with Martha alone together seemed to have gotten rarer and rarer, so when the opportunity to share a hot drink finally presented itself one morning in their office, Donna grasped the chance to ask as nonchalantly as possible, "All the vampire stuff in Peter's apartment, what's that all about?"
"I'm not quite sure," Martha admitted. "On the day I first met the Doctor, he was attacked by a Plasmavore who sucked his blood to avoid detection from some rhino police, so perhaps the TARDIS included that in his new personal history by making him think his parents were killed by vampires. That's my theory, anyway."
"It's a good enough reason to avoid them in the future," Donna agreed. "Rhino police?" she questioned, stifling a laugh of derision.
"Yes," Martha confirmed, and then giggled at how absurd it sounded. "I don't know what's weirder, that, a cat nun, seeing a real witch or being touched by a deadly statue." She then shuddered in memory. "The statue. I never want to see another one again."
"Good job they're mainly made of plastic around here," Donna consoled her, using a brief touch on the arm as she spoke. "But how will I know if I've seen an Aubertide?"
"No idea." Martha shrugged in confusion. "I haven't actually seen one either. But the Doctor seemed terrified of meeting up with them."
Donna sighed. "Never mind. You'll both be back to normal very soon."
"What about you?" Martha asked over the top of her coffee cup as she daintily sipped it. "What are you going to do now?"
Donna shrugged and mentally drew her protective cloak around herself. "I'm not sure, to be honest. Go to the airport, catch my flight home, and see what happens after that."
"He might ask you to come along too," Martha suggested. "If he does, I don't mind. It's been nice being able to share the experience with someone like this."
"Thanks," Donna announced her gratitude, "but I get the feeling I'll be high on his embarrassment list for quite some time."
Martha quietly noted the truth of that. "Do you regret it?" she risked asking.
"No." Donna sagely shook her head. "I knew what I was possibly letting myself in for when I caved and let him kiss me. Bit hard not to at my age. And I love him. Why would I want to miss out on a couple of weeks of happiness? Not everyone gets that chance. Oh, I know it won't last beyond seconds once he changes back, but for now, right this minute, Peter loves me."
How could she word this properly, Martha pondered. "Won't it be weird though?"
"It'll be like one of those wartime marriages you often hear about," Donna reasoned. "You know the sort, where they met someone, married them and then were widowed within days. Those women never say they regret it."
They both sat in companionable silence, unable to offer any more words on the subject; so they finished their coffees and wordlessly signalled that they'd get back to their daily chores.
As often happened during their dates, after the evening show had finished, Donna ignored any outstanding paperwork to offer Peter a hastily grabbed quick snack before other, more pressing matters, were allowed to completely distract them from the world outside. Matters like expressing their newfound joy in each other. Soon they lay tangled and naked on Peter's bed, still cuddling, giving in to their need to caress each other in gentle sweeps.
As Donna turned to place kisses on his chest, she pondered, "You know, at times like these, I could want to do this forever."
"We'd starve to death," he noted and pretended to wince when she inevitably glared at him.
"Not like that, you prawn! I meant you and me, all snuggled up for the rest of our lives, needing nobody else," she explained.
"Still sounds like we'd only starve to death eventually," he risked saying, and playfully yelped when she swatted his arm. In consolation, he languidly kissed her lips. "But for the record, I want that too," he whispered against her skin.
"My mum will have a field day when she learns about you," she mused. Then in mocking tones, she impersonated Sylvia ranting, "Call that a real relationship? A rebound, that's what I call it. You've jumped on the first bloke who's done so much as look at you; and he is merely practising."
Donna then sighed, thinking how Sylvia would react to seeing the Doctor on her doorstep as a prospective son-in-law; the man she'd considered had ruined the wedding. Little did she know…
"Hey," Peter softly murmured, bringing her out of her thoughts. "If this is practising, then I intend to do it until I get it perfect with you, because you deserve the best of me. I love you."
"And I love you," she readily echoed. "Once you've gained my love, in any shape or form, it's there forever."
"I certainly know what shape and form I love about you," Peter schmoozed, guiding her lips back onto his mouth.
But she didn't argue with him. For love had surely formed in her heart for Peter. His vulnerable soul had cried out to her for love, and she had willingly taken it into her tender care, not fearing the consequences.
That statement would come back later to haunt her at some point, but for now, Peter did his best to make her not regret the declaration; in his own special way.
A streak of green whizzed across the early dawn sky, startling Donna as she made her way back from the bathroom. "Did you see that?" she whispered in awe, hastening to look out the tinted window.
"See what?" Peter mumbled from behind her. "Come back to bed."
She stared off to the horizon, trying to glimpse something over the mountain tops. "I thought I saw a meteorite falling down."
"Then it can fucking wait until some prat is awake enough to go and poke it," he grumbled. "Are you coming back to bed or do I have to drag you here?"
"Hark at Captain Caveman over there," she dismissed him. "Aren't you interested to see what has landed from outer space?"
"No, I am fucking not," he testily replied. "It's taken light years to get here so it can wait a few more hours before I care about it. Now stop fucking me about and get over here."
"It'll be on the morning news," she told herself as she returned to his offered embrace. "Perhaps we could drive out and have a look."
"Whatever you say," he sleepily mumbled from somewhere against her neck. He had quickly nestled there. "Just let me fucking sleep, will you."
She smiled despite herself, filing every precious moment away to treasure at a later date. For now, she felt loved and secure, and refused to dwell on when that would all disappear.
Some hours later, she was alone in the office, finishing some invoice paperwork and trying to avoid thinking about the approaching evening with Peter.
A sudden rap came from the office doorway, so Donna looked up from her keyboard to see who was disturbing her work. Framed in the entrance was a handsome dark-haired man dressed all in black. "Parcel for you. May I?" he requested in a clear British accent, throwing out his hand, obviously expecting an invitation to enter.
Was there anyone in the building who wasn't British, she idly wondered. "I wasn't expecting a parcel," she told him as she waved him in.
He presented her with a sheet to sign, and smugly grinned at her. "Perhaps you have an admirer," he suggested.
Snorting her scorn, she took hold of the box in his hands; but to her surprise, he didn't let go. "What's your game?"
"You sound different to everyone else around here," he commented. "Are you the only one?"
"Why? Going to form an ex-pats group for us all, are you?" Donna retorted. She deliberately gazed at his name badge. "If you're feeling lonely, Jerry, there's an Irish bar in the Mandalay you might be interested in."
He laughed an empty laugh and then pointed at her knowingly. "See you soon," he promised, and then sauntered out of the office.
Donna instantly shuddered. There had been something about the bloke that had been incredibly creepy. At least she could tick the Irish bar off her list of places to visit in the near future. No way was she going to risk running into him again if she could avoid it.
It had all happened so suddenly, one minute they'd all been in the hotel bar having a celebration drink together, with Peter standing with his arm possessively around her waist; and the next minute, or so it seemed, she was standing in the rubble looking for survivors.
The rubble of what remained of the theatre and bar was shrewn haphazardly around her, and Donna could only gasp as the enormity of it all hit her. Three dead, possibly more; and no sign of Peter or the Doctor. Her head just couldn't get passed the loud whooping noises of the attending emergency vehicles or the bright lights used to search for victims. Even worse were the camera lights from the swarming news broadcasting jackals who were only interested in their scoop rather than the emotions of the stunned people they kept interviewing.
Donna stumbled, losing her footing amongst the fallen brickwork, pieces of plasterboard and planks of broken wood, not knowing where to start looking first. All her new friends were under there, somewhere. And what about Peter? Was he dead? Were they torturing him right that second? Too many questions to consider as the sounds of normal nightlife began to resume their volume.
A bright light suddenly illuminated her, and a shadowy figure loomed large before thrusting a microphone under her noise. As confusion battled in her brain, she heard a female voice ask, "Can you tell you us what happened?"
She brought a hand up to push away the soot-laden wisp of hair that obscured her vision. "I don't really know. There was a man thing asking for someone, and when we said we didn't know where they were, the theatre bar and this side of the hotel was blown up."
"You were at the awards ceremony recently," the journalist noted. In their mind they were hastily compiling before and after pictures of this woman survivor in front of her. The contrast between a glamorous dress and dishevelled bewilderment was too much to resist. "I saw you attending with Peter Vincent who was nominated for best newcomer. Was he in the building?"
To the journalist's delight, Donna's face crumpled in grief. "Yes. I can't find him. He's dead, I know he is," she wailed. "They're all under here somewhere. Help me look! For God's sake start looking and helping!"
She idly noted a paramedic approaching her. "This way." The EMT gently took hold of her arm and led her away towards some comfort and away from the world's prying eyes.
Alas, the journalist was unmoved by such a scene. This was extremely newsworthy; and might even boost them onto national television.
A few minutes later, Donna was sat with a foil blanket around her and a drink in her hand. There may have been a large bruise down her left arm and a bandage around her head to shield the gash on her forehead, but the worse part, as rescue workers sought through the rubble, was not knowing how or being able to help. She quietly resolved to take first aide classes a soon as she could when she got back home.
Home. The thought brought instant tears to her eyes again. Soon she would return with her tail between her legs; just like always. All these good intentions and things still went to rack and ruin. With that in mind, she pulled out her phone from her pocket and, with shaky fingers, dialled her mother's number.
It went straight to voicemail, so she started to leave a message. "Hello Mum. I don't know if you've seen the news yet about the explosion in Las Vegas, but I'm fine. Still in one piece. Anyway, I'll call you later…."
"Donna!" her mother's voice interrupted her departure from the call as she obviously snatched the phone up from its cradle. "Sorry, I couldn't get to the phone in time to pick it up. What's happened? I was just about to go over to Suzette's. Has there been a bomb? These terrorists get everywhere. What were they protesting about?"
"It wasn't political, Mum," Donna explained. "More sort of alien. This human-looking thing came into the bar where we were celebrating Alison's birthday and demanded to know where Peter was."
"Peter, your new boyfriend? Oh Donna," Sylvia sympathised. "Why did they want him?"
"Who knows. Probably thought he could so some magic trick and help them disappear from here and end up back home. So we hid him under a table and Martha sneaked him out, but…"
She thought of that desperate moment, Martha shielding him whilst defying the thing that had taken over that weird bloke Jerry. Both Donna and Martha had already arranged that whenever the Aubertide turned up, they'd protect Peter/the Doctor no matter what happened; in any way that they could. So when something decidedly fishy started to occur, they'd shared a glance of understanding and then shoved Peter out of harm's way, below a table. That had closely been followed by the bar itself, the staff corridor, and then finally the wider entranceway beyond that.
"Follow me and I'll get you to the TARDIS," Martha had whispered to Peter as she led him towards safety.
"What the fuck is that?" Peter had quizzed. "And where's Donna? We have to wait for her."
"No, she's okay. We agreed on this."
"Agreed? I fucking didn't agree about anything!" Peter quietly raged.
"I mean me and Donna have an arrangement. As for you…. Just get to my bedroom," Martha had insisted.
Peter held his hands up in surrender. "Look, I know we're friends and all that, but I'm taken."
Didn't she know it? "Not like that, you idiot!" she had hissed at him. "I'm trying to save your neck."
Back in the bar, Jerry wasn't in the mood for games. He brought out a gun of some sort and waved forward Carlos to join him; or rather, the person that had once been Carlos. "Where is he? Somebody here knows where the Doctor is!" he yelled at his captured audience.
Everyone stared blankly back at him.
"We don't know who this doctor is that you want," Alison bravely defended them. "We have nothing for you!"
"I think you do." Jerry had merely sneered at her, sauntering closer; and then suddenly lurched sideways to grab hold of Donna, placing a weird gun at her head.
In hindsight, it hadn't been wise for Donna to ask, "Did you get that out of a Jamboree bag? I've seen more convincing guns in a Christmas cracker."
Instantly, Jerry had aimed the gun upwards and blasted a large hole in the ceiling. Debris came shattering down. "Do you believe it's real now? I want the Doctor and youknow where he is."
Something large and painful hit her arm, wounding her head as it came down, but Donna knew she had to be strong. "And why would I know that?" she countered.
"Because I heard you discussing him with her…" He pointed the end of his weapon towards where Martha had been standing moments beforehand. Not seeing her, he dismissed her absence to concentrate on the human woman in front of him. She ought to be able to provide any answer he needed.
"Not only that, I've seen you cosying up with him, all lovey dovey," 'Carlos' maintained. "You are his girlfriend, so he will care if I kill you."
"No, I'm not," she hotly denied, alternating her gaze between the two aliens. "My boyfriend was Peter, but anyway, he won't care tuppence; we broke up."
The gun was prodded into her jaw as she became the main target.
"Liar! I heard you call him 'the Doctor' to your friend so don't make me angry," 'Carlos' threatened.
"Bring him to me," Jerry demanded.
Garnering every breath she could suck in, Donna shouted at the top of her voice, "Everybody run! Get out of here!"
As everyone started to run towards the exit, she heard Jerry quite clearly behind her order, "Begin the bombardment!"
Immediately, something large and explosive struck the building; and she was knocked out cold.
