Prompt(s): bodyguard AU, rock band AU
Hurt/Comfort Prompt:forced to uncover a past trauma
Disclaimer: I once held a concert ticket, and that's about it.
A/N: this was intended to be a one-shot, but I've gone and added to it.

Behind The Band

Part 1

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Walking down the narrow corridor brought back memories of long ago. Small theatres, large venues, arenas, all have the same vibe. The far-off sounds of music playing somewhere and even the same smells assault his senses.

He'd missed it, he was surprised to note as he relaxed into this new experience of an old perspective. But he didn't have time to reminisce; his concentration was on one of the star dressing rooms ahead of him. Number one, to be precise. Inside was Donna Noble, third member of 'The Companions', a famous all female singing group. A successful trio renowned for their singing ability, catchy tunes, and sexy outfits. She was his next assignment.

Time to finally meet her. Bringing up a hand, he confidently knocked.

The dressing room door was thrown open and a familiar, ginger-haired framed, beautifully made up, face peered out at him. "Can I help you?" she immediately asked.

"You should be expecting me," he announced as he wrenched his gaze upwards from her tight-fitting shiny black dress and then gulped. "I'm John Smith, your replacement bodyguard."

Stepping back to let him in, she squinted at his formally suited back. "Okay, I might be dreaming this. You're my bodyguard?"

"Yes." He stood looking around the small room, noting where everything was to assess whether it was correctly placed and if anyone unwanted would be able to get in to harm his latest client.

This tall, skinny man couldn't be a bodyguard, she thought. No way. Her former one had been built like a brickhouse and looked like a heavyweight boxer. This new bloke was more likely to set up her internet connection. "Hmm. Just assuming I believe you, what special bodyguard skills do you possibly possess?"

"Akido," he replied, snapping his attention back onto her to stress his case. "Venusian Akido, to be precise."

"I see." She warily eyed him up and down. Not bad at all, as eye candy went, but he could be a complete fantasist with a Napoleon Bonaparte complex for all she knew. "Did you get beyond achieving your yellow belt?"

"Ha ha," he sarcastically responded. "You'll be asking me next if I know anything about the music business."

Alright, she hadn't even considered it yet, but it was worth asking. "Well? Do you?"

"Yes," he drawled. "I used to be in a successful band."

"Which one?" she inevitably asked. Probably a roadie, she presumed, or the song writer.

"You might have heard of us," he proudly offered. "Kasterborous."

"Kasterborous," she repeated to herself, the name familiar on her tongue. "I remember them. Shared a bill with them once, back when we first started. At the Hippodrome, I think. They were much higher up the billing than we were. I remember standing in the wings watching their set, and there was this rather sexy…" Her voice trailed off as she realised who the sexy bloke in the leather trousers who played bass had been. Actually was. Stood right in front of her. "…singer," she ended with instead.

"That would have been Jack," he answered matter-of-factly. "Everybody fancied him." He idly picked up a bottle of makeup on her dressing table to investigate what it was before nonchalantly adding, "Still do, from what I hear."

A bit peeved about Jack's popularity, by the sound of it. "Do you remember us from that gig?" she wondered.

"Well. Erm…" He blushed, ducking his head away as he replaced the bottle, but she could easily see him in the large mirror that covered the wall.

Did the blush actually mean what she thought it meant? "Which one of us did you fancy?" she asked, eager to tease him about it.

"The… the erm…" Oh lordy, he thought. "The blonde one," he reluctantly admitted.

"Ah, of course," she noted.

Donna wasn't surprised in the slightest to hear his choice. Well, everybody fancied their lead singer too so of course he'd choose Rose. No doubt Rose Tyler adorned more adolescent bedroom walls than she'd had hot dinners.

He tried to smile whimsically at her, so Donna offered, "If you're a good boy, I'll introduce you to her later. Martha will be gutted you didn't pick her though."

"Martha Jones?" he near squeaked, jerking his head up.

"The very one." She nodded. "Got a thing for her as well, have you?"

"No," he hotly denied.

"Thought so," she crooned. "Never mind. Good job you ended up with me otherwise you'd have combusted with pleasure by now. But at least I can provide you with access to them."

"What about you?" he wondered as she picked up a lip gloss and carefully applied some.

Her stage makeup looked okay, she decided, as she peered in the mirror. "What about me?" she countered, pursing her lips before setting the gloss down and facing him. "If you're asking for special 'access', I don't put up with any of that nonsense, and I won't have you harassing them either. Is that clear?"

"No, no, no, no. I didn't mean that," he hastily assured her. "I was just asking if you… you know… have your own fans."

"Oh." Not what she had expected to hear at all. She picked up her stiletto shoes and began to put them on to finish her stage outfit. "I have a few people who follow what I do. Not nearly as many as the other two, obviously, but backing singers who look like me rarely do. And they're loyal fans."

He was appalled to hear her talk like that. "Look like you?" he queried, sweeping his gaze from the top of her styled ginger hair, down her curvaceous figure covered in a long sequined dress to her elegantly covered feet. To him she looked stunningly beautiful.

"Don't worry," she said as she walked past him to open the door, "I keep in the shadows as much as possible. Can't have all of this on view." As he stood gawping at her, she encouraged him to move with a nod of her head. "Come on then, Mr Bodyguard. Let's make sure nobody tries to rip this dress off as a souvenir before I've had the chance to wear it on stage."

"Allons-y," he murmured to himself under his breath. "Boy am I in trouble…"