A/N: some of you might have guessed this about Roderick.

Part 25

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"Finchie and I didn't lock ourselves in… Now that was an out and out lie," Roderick angrily insisted, waving his hand about again. "I was faithful to you, despite what was said." He then wailed plaintively, "Why couldn't we stay as we were? They broke my heart by taking you away from me. I loved you for such a long time." Gulping in a lungful of air, he suddenly went green around the gills, and faintly added, "And I really shouldn't have had that last drink."

It was then that he pitched dramatically sideways, landing face down into the cushion to the side of Donna, narrowly missing embarrassing her by doing more than lying bodily across her lap.

"I'll get him some water," Jocasta decided, and made a hasty dash for the kitchen while Donna tried to get him to sit back up.

"Get off me!" Alas, he didn't comply at all, despite her fervent shoving, so she eventually squeezed out from underneath him, and then knelt by the edge of the sofa. "Shall I phone William to come and get you? Oh gawd! This is just what I needed. Where's your bloody phone?"

Her hands sought through his nearest jacket pocket to look for it, but he made her jump by grabbing her hand. "Don't Donna. God, I feel terrible. Just leave me here," he begged.

"I can't. You need to get back to the hotel," she argued.

But he beseeched her quietly, "Please don't send me back like this. Dad doesn't know."

"Doesn't know what?"

He used her hand to draw her nearer to whisper, "If he finds out about Jack, about the kiss, he'll beat me again. He hates it when I'm not manly enough; he'll go ballistic. Please! I'll do anything, but don't let him see me drunk like this."

"Did you say he'd beat you?!" she tried to clarify, but he was slipping into a drunken slumber whilst using her hand like some sort of anchor.

"He won't do it if you're there; wouldn't dare," he mumbled. "You keep me safe."

"What was all that about?" Jocasta asked as she reappeared with a glass of water and heard his last words.

They both peered in puzzlement at the now sleeping man on her sofa.

Going on more than a hunch, Donna proposed, "Let me just check something first."

With great care, she lifted up both his jacket and the hem of his t shirt as he remained lying face down, to reveal his back. Between his shoulder blades, in a crisscross pattern, were the faint scars of an old attack.

"He's been beaten by someone," Jocasta cried out. "Whoever would have done such a thing?"

Swallowing down her fear, Donna explained, "I think it might have been his dad. It makes sense now, how he would do almost anything to keep me there when his dad was in the office, making up all sorts of demands. I thought he was merely being a prat."

"You weren't to know." Jocasta placed a consoling hand on Donna's shoulder. "Why don't we let him stay there for the night? I'll go and get him a blanket."

"Okay," Donna agreed, keeping hold of his hand as Jocasta bustled off. "And to think I didn't consider you could surprise me any more than you do," she commented to the oblivious Roderick before her. "You really are a bastard, you know, despite making me feel sorry for you. I was going to thump you good and hard for all that loving crap you tried out on me, you git. Who knows, perhaps you'd enjoy it after everything else that has happened to you. Does that make you a sadist or a masochist? I can never remember. Oh well. At least life isn't dull around you."

When Jocasta came back some moments later, they tucked some blankets around him, left a large glass of water by his side, and a bowl placed conveniently close by just in case.

"Shall we have an early night?" Jocasta suggested to her pensive friend.

It was a no-brainer to agree with her. Donna was looking forward to her bed for entirely different reasons to the evening before. Her only regret was that John hadn't turned up to share it with her. Once she was alone, she tried to call him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. "Hello John. It's me, Donna. Can you give me a bell when you get this message? Things went a bit strange here after I spoke to you. I er, I miss you. Goodnight."

A few minutes later her phone did ring, but it was a number she didn't recognise.

"Hello?" she cautiously answered.

"Hello Ms Noble. It's William here," the voice on the other end of the line declared. "Sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, but would you happen to know the whereabouts of Mr Roderick?"

"Yes I do. He's sound asleep on our sofa," she readily informed him. "Can you collect him first thing in the morning?"

"Ah, thank you, miss." William sounded rather relieved. "I shall be there at first light. Good night."

Donna bade him goodbye and wasn't exactly surprised when Jocasta burst into her room. "Who was that, dear?"

"William. He's coming for Roderick early in the morning."

"No John?" Jocasta looked expectantly at Donna's phone.

"He's probably forgotten to recharge his phone, or left it in the Land Rover," she tried reasoning, but it didn't sound true even to her own ears. "Men, eh? Good night!"

It hadn't been long since she had lain down and drifted off into a light sleep when her phone bleeped out that she had a text message. Jumping awake, she grabbed it off her bedside table and read: "Is it too late to see you?"

"Oh John!" she gasped out in joy; and then hurriedly rang him back. "Hello. I'm in bed but you can come over."

"Good! Because I'm outside," he admitted in a low voice. "I couldn't wait."

Smiling with delight, she told him, "Hang on a tick. I'll be right down to let you in, but we'll have to be quiet."

Foregoing the need to don a dressing gown, she practically flew down the stairs and opened the front door. There John stood in the low evening light with his wellies already removed and in his hands. She beckoned him in whilst grasping his wrist possessively in a manner that didn't allow for anything else.

"Take no notice of the Living Dead over there," she whispered as she gestured for him to follow her through the living room and then back up the stairs; although she did falter for a moment in order to check Roderick was still breathing.

All that broke the silence was the creaking floorboards that were determined to flag their creeping about and their resultant giggles as they tried to avoid the worst offenders. Eventually they made it into Donna's bedroom and could shut the door on the rest of the cottage.

"Sorry," he began to whisper his apology, but before he could get even a whole word out she launched herself on him.

"Where were you?" she wondered between ardent kisses, hardly giving him a chance to breathe.

"A sheep. I was dealing with a sheep," he explained in small bursts. "She gave birth far too early. It had already died; the lamb, I mean. It was like a porcelain figurine."

"The poor thing!" she sympathised. "You must be upset." Then an unpleasant thought struck her. "I hope you washed your hands before you touched me."

"Of course I did! I had a shower and everything," he indignantly retorted. "What do you take me for?"

"Well, you never know," she pondered. Hands pushed off his coat, jacket, shirt, trousers, and everything else as they traded more hungry kisses. "But for what it's worth, I'd be very willing to take you," she continued seductively.

"So you want to take me?" he playfully enquired.

She could almost hear his left eyebrow rising in query. "Want almost covers it."

Everything item of clothing was dumped in an untidy pile by the bed in their hurry to get to each other. "How else should I cover you?" he wondered.

"Ooh, let me think," she added, giving a nip to his neck. His long, enticing neck that always made her want to lick the vulnerable flesh there. "Or have you come up with anything yet?"

"Something's pending," he saucily stated.

"There always is."

Then the biting coldness of the room forced them to scurry to hide beneath the bedcovers before their ardour could be completely dampened. Using fervent kisses, she did her best to console him after all his efforts, wanting to show that her love was unconditional and that she could take his mind off his worries.

It worked, because all he could think of was the woman beneath him as their kisses deepened again and they undulated together. His hands sought out tender flesh to knead and caress as her scent filled his senses. Would he ever get his fill of her? All he wanted to do was love her with his very being, please her with his touch; join them forever.

With a silent cry he united them in a passionate embrace. 'Marry me,' whispered through his mind as their position changed, just enough to create joy in its wake once they had reached their peak. Had he actually said the words at the height of passion? He neither knew nor cared; he would say them for real in the near future. "Love you," he panted out to join her sweet whispered words.

"Please stay with me in the morning."

"I'll stay as long as I can," he promised, "but the sheep need me."

She nodded her head in understanding. While the farm existed he would always put duty first. So she cuddled into him for as long as she could. Who knew when this would all be taken away?

What the hell was going on? Who was flashing a light in his eyes? Trying to stop the onslaught, Roderick turned his head and found himself wedged up against a large piece of wood. Forcing his eyelids open he saw, if he wasn't much mistaken, a mahogany bedstead. Since when did he own a wooden bedframe? Or lilac bedcovers? Or even more puzzling, where had the teddy bear alarm clock come from? Its smug little face judged him as the room swayed about.

Feeling frustrated that he didn't know where the hell he was, but expecting some one night stand, again, he dragged his body into a seated position on the unfamiliar bed so that the glare was taken out of his face. Three feet away from him was a matching mahogany dressing table, and displayed on it was a photograph of someone he could just about make out. Squinting desperately, he peered at it and then gasped in shock. The photo was of Jocasta Pembery.

Did this mean he had done the deed with her?! "What the hell have I done?" he loudly wondered, combing his fingers through his hair.

"Which bit of arse-holey behaviour shall I start with?" someone familiar asked.

He jerked his head in the direction of Donna's voice and could just about determine her figure standing in the doorway. "How bad is it? Did we…?" he pondered as he gestured between them with his index finger.

With a shake of her head, she informed him, "No, we didn't! Ooh, where shall I start?" She then sauntered nearer. "You got so drunk we were treated to Confessions of a Sexist Pig. We certainly know what you got up to with Rose now, and Jack."

"Jack!" He visibly paled in horror. "Look, nobody needs to know anything. I acted for the best where Rose was concerned, I don't want to jeopardise your… Are you laughing at me?!"

"As if I would. If you want to go around hiding your bisexuality then that is up to you. I won't say a word," she promised. "Rose, on the other hand, is an event I think you ought to tell John about."

"Oh I don't think so," he hastily disagreed. "It's taken me years to get him to forgive me as it is. I wouldn't like to jeopardise our truce."

That got her goat! "Then how do you explain all that love stuff you spouted at me?"

"I did what?!"