Part 6

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They returned to their task feeling refreshed after a suitably extended tea break, accompanied by a filled sandwich or two, and a couple of slices of cake, since the Doctor declared he was still a growing lad.

It didn't take much to encourage Donna to rip open an envelope from another world where the smell of apples infused everything. "There's another photo of cute pets," she announced, passing him the image and letter to peruse. "Are they claiming you're the father of this lot too?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat when he saw the signature at the bottom. "Not quite, Donna. I actually am the father in this instance."

Her whimsical smile instantly transformed into shock. "You are! How?"

"Think Messaline," he tightly explained, "but with a handshake."

Messaline brought too many past and raw memories, so she let her thoughts run in a random direction. "Ew! Just think, I could have been popping out sprogs every time you take my hand."

"Depends. Are you Klo-Vestarian, Donna?" he quizzed her.

"Hmm." She deliberately scrunched her face up for a moment as she thought. "Funnily enough, no."

"Phew!" he gasped then immediately yowled in pain. "OW!" Glaring at his companion as he rubbed his punched arm, he amended his comment, "I mean… what a shame."

They sat in silence after that for a good half hour, not exchanging more than the odd glance or vision of pursed lips. But it wasn't in their nature to keep quiet for ever, and one of them eventually broke. The Doctor was quite relieved when it was Donna who spoke first because he was dying to say something. It didn't matter what. He just wanted to talk normally again, but he also didn't want to be the first one to break their silly feud.

After about the fiftieth time she had read in a letter how great the Doctor was, and how grateful they were he had done something positive in their life, blah blah blah, she could hold in the anger no longer. "Do these people ever shut up about you?"

"Not in my experience, Donna," he patiently replied. "All it is, is 'want want want' from me."

Another letter was thrown in the 'general thanks' box. She then commented, "I'm beginning to appreciate why you never go back."

"It has its plus points," he allowed.

A cunning smile was shot in his direction. "Does it also have a cup of tea on the go?"

"I can take a hint. Anyone would think I'm your appointed lackey," he moaned as he stood up and stretched. "Won't be a mo'."

"Lackey?" she questioned no one in particular when he had gone. "I much prefer the word 'companion'."

-o-

They were finally on the last leg. Just one more box of fan mail to tackle before the job was officially done. It was at this point that Donna's favourite letter out of all of them appeared.

It was from a young lyricist who had written out a touching poem, as well as a musical score, according to the Doctor; although as far as she was concerned, it was just a load of old squiggles. He'd refused to hum the tune after the first two bars, proclaiming it too embarrassing. Yeah, like she actually believed he was a wilting violet. Not. She suspected it was the lyrics that were causing him problems, even though some of the imagery was lost on her. Despite that, the poetical declaration of love was extremely clear. On and on it went. When she'd eventually spotted the signature as being some captain called Jack in the Second World War, her mirth knew no bounds.

"Now this I have got to share," she announced.

"No, and I mean 'no'," the Doctor maintained.

Her brow immediately furrowed. "Why can't I show Martha this one?"

After nodding his head about from side to side, he eventually replied, "Let's just say it's complicated."

"What, this letter, or how you feel about her?"

His eyes went wide. "Donna, sometimes I think you deliberately misunderstand me."

Shrugging her shoulders, she mocked him by asking, "Only sometimes? I must be less obvious than I think."

Hopefully, her later hiding the letter inside her top wasn't that obvious either.

-o-

The Doctor was just finishing signing his last photo when Donna suddenly held up a letter in question. "Why does this person describe you as having 'beautiful blue eyes, luscious blonde hair, and the sweetest smile on your handsome face', Doctor?"

Blushing slightly, he cheekily answered, "They know a good thing when they see it, Donna."

"Have they actually met you?" she asked, much to his lack of surprise. "I mean, this clearly isn't you. Or have you got a wannabe parading around the universe pretending to be you?"

"They're referring to…" He coughed delicately. "It's a previous incarnation of me."

"In a carnation!" she exclaimed in her confusion. "As in the flower or the tinned milk? What are you on about?"

"Well, you see, Donna, there's this thing…"

"Right."

"…that I need to explain to you, should anything happen…"

He was stumbling over his words again which, as she well knew, meant that this was a difficult subject and she'd have to encourage him to spit it out. "I'm listening. Tell me about this thing."

"If I'm badly injured… enough to possibly be fatal…."

"Yes, get on with it." Her patience would run out at this rate. "What happens then? A robot medic appears or something?" she guessed.

"I…," he faltered and then chickened out of explaining properly, "yes, a special medic appears, and an agency sends in a replacement me."

Oh, a new thing to tease him with. "So, you use a temping agency?"

"Well, technically I'm the temp," he allowed.

A proud smile lit up her face. "I knew there was another reason we got on so well."

"I think you're right, Donna Noble."

Her joyful grin instantly fell off. "Did I do something wrong again?"

"No," he answered. "Why?"

"You used my full name again. It usually means things are bad," she explained.

"Not in this case," he assured her. "It means you are brilliant."

There was that word again. The one that always made her blush. Quite a lot, judging by the sudden heat on her face and the fond smile he was giving her.

For now, she was only too happy to let him continue trying to persuade her it was true.

-o0o-