A/N: here comes the angst

Part 8

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The look on his face! Donna couldn't stop herself from seeking his gaze out as she sung on stage behind Rose blasting out a number. Mickey had turned up trumps by finding not only a bass guitar to borrow but a spare pair of trousers to give John a stage costume.

Of course, he had made it a little hard for her to coax him onto the stage during the concert. "What do I do if someone lunges forward?" he queried.

"Hit them with the guitar. That should make them think for a while," she had retorted.

"What if I don't know the chords?" he'd tried instead.

"Are you telling me that you still don't know how our songs go? Pft!" she'd scoffed. "I'm sure you could do those chords in your sleep. Or make them up as you go along. A professional like you will know exactly what to do, so stop worrying!"

"But these trousers…," he began to whine, pointing down at the jazzy costume on his lower half. The top half had been dealt with by removing his prim jacket and opening a few buttons of his crisp white shirt to reveal his chest. "Don't you think they look a bit unprofessional?"

"Not from where I'm standing," she countered, standing back to admire their work. Not quite the sexy leather trousers he used to wear but it was close. "You look just the part. Honest you do. It'll be like riding a bike, going out there, but without the potential to fall off, obviously."

After that, he'd let her lead him onto the stage whilst Mickey had introduced him as their guest performer from Kasterborous. The roar of delight from the crowd had been amazing. John had beamed at Donna as soon as he'd played a few chords and glorified in the cheer it gained.

At the end of the set, he was sweating buckets but as pleased as Punch. On the last chord, he reached forward to hug Donna in gratitude. "I needed that," he whispered. "Thanks."

"Anytime," she told him, changing their embrace to a side by side one to walk back to the dressing room. "There's nothing like playing some music to ease anxiety."

"Soothe the savage beast, eh?" he teased.

"Something like that," she agreed.

"If you two have finished flirting, we have fans waiting for autographs outside," Rose chivvied them. "And don't go having a shower together either."

John frantically informed Donna, "I don't… I wasn't…."

"It's okay," she calmly spoke. "Rose is just teasing us. You know the drill about getting cleaned up. Do you want to do that in my dressing room or the boys?"

Mickey grinned at them as he eased passed. John waited until he was out of earshot before answering, "I think it would be safer if I stayed with you."

"Come on then, Mr Bodyguard," she said with a sideways jerk of her head, "your fandom awaits." As they entered the dressing room, she warned, "And no nicking all the towels!"

He happily replied, "Yes, Donna."

They took it in turns to wash, managing to dodge any emotional bullet as they did so, maintaining an efficient façade. But his anxiety threatened to reappear. "Do you mind if I hold onto your hand while we do the stage door stuff?"

"A bit hard to sign anything," she commented. "Wouldn't hurt as we get to the car," she added, making him feel more relieved. "Oh and, here's a pen, because I know blokes are notoriously bad at having one on them."

When he thanked her, it wasn't just for the pen.

"That went pretty well, don't you think?" Rose asked her travelling companions. John was too busy being on guard to do anything but nod, but Donna was willing to continue the conversation. "I hadn't expected that reaction."

"John was amazing," Donna gushed. "I'm so pleased loads of members of the crowd remembered him."

"Shows people don't forget," Rose agreed. "Are we all meeting up for dinner later?"

"I'm game," Donna said. "And where I go, John has to follow. Poor bloke."

"He must be gutted having to trail after you," Rose teased. "Just think, he could have the delights of me."

"If you feel that strongly about it, you'd better have a word with Nerys," Donna countered. The car was approaching a space in front of their hotel. "I'm sure she'd love to hear."

Rose snorted her scorn. "Nerys is only interested in how much money I can earn her. In fact... What is that boy doing?" she loudly wondered, peering out the window.

A young lad had broken through the crowd on the pavement outside their hotel and raced into the road, right in front of the cab. Inside, John's instincts had him on high alert as he moved to attack. The driver braked sharply to avoid hitting the teen and John instantly jumped out to investigate.

It didn't help that the boy was wearing a dark hooded top that hung low over his face, making it hard to see his features. Then he did the really stupid thing of lunging towards the passenger car door whilst shouting, "Donna!" a few times.

His voice was soon muffled by having his arm wrenched behind him, head down. John had him instantly wedged up against the side panel of the taxi by the throat, ready to strike harder if necessary.

"What are you trying to do?!" John demanded.

The lad stammered, "Nothing. I just wanted to talk to Donna."

"Who are you?" John then snarled.

"Donna!" the teen called out instead of answering properly, having seen her get out of the car and edge towards them. "Donna, I…"

He didn't get to say anymore because John tightened his grip and started to haul him away.

"Don't hurt him!" Donna begged, placing her arm protectively between John's body and the boy. "Please don't strangle him."

"Donna," the lad croaked, "did you get the letter?"

"What letter?" she inevitably asked.

"They said they were sending you a letter," he forced out.

"Sorry, I don't know anything about a letter," she explained. "Things like that go through my agent first. I'm sure Nerys would have told me if it was important. What did you have to so desperately tell me?"

Pulling his hood completely back, he gazed up at her from under John's firm grip. She saw pale grey eyes under a dark ginger fringe. Eyes that seemed so familiar. But his news shook every thought out of her head.

"I think you're my mum," he stated.

"What!" She staggered backwards, reeling with emotion. Luckily, Rose caught her before she could hit the ground.

There was no denial, so John let go enough to haul the boy onto his feet. "What makes you think you are related?" he queried.

"Because of what it says on my birth certificate. D'uh!" the lad answered.

Okay, that sounded possibly true, so John looked to Donna for his cue.

"What… How old are you? When's your birthday?" she gasped.

"I'm eighteen, and my birthday is the fifteenth of February," he replied, petulantly adjusting the fall of his hoodie. "I'm called Callum by the way, since you didn't ask," he aimed towards John.

"You don't look eighteen," Rose commented, because he could easily have been mistaken for someone younger.

"Nor do you," Callum countered.

"Oh gawd. He even sounds like me," Donna whispered. "Can we… John, can we take this inside? To my room, perhaps. Or somewhere else."

John nodded. No way was he going to leave her to face this on her own.