Part 14

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When the interval began, John came off the stage literally glowing. His body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and happiness pulsed through him.

"What did you think of that?" Mickey asked as they walked.

"Brilliant," John replied.

Rory fondly patted him on the back. "It went pretty well from where I sat too."

"Not that he was looking at you," Mickey joked.

"Aw. He never does," Rory stated with a pretend pout.

"What do you mean I never look at you?" John tetchily queried. "Of course I do."

"He's lost," Rory commented, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Mickey as they arrived in the dressing room and chose a seat. "Totally gone. And I bet we weren't the reason he decided to play tonight."

"That is a complete and utter lie," John began to protest. "Why, I-"

"Shush. Here she comes," Mickey muttered to interrupt him.

John frowned. "Who?"

"Hello Donna," Rory greeted her as she appeared at their dressing room door. "What can we do for you?"

She looked a bit flummoxed. "Oh erm... I came to congratulate John on the set." Avoiding his gaze, she added, "It all sounded good."

"You've got a number one fan already, John," Rory teased him.

Mickey laughed with Rory. "Perhaps she'd like to get your autograph."

Rory cheekily wondered, "In a special place?"

It gained an equally cheeky answer. "A very special place."

That was it! Donna blazed at Rory and Mickey, "Pack it in, you two! You're like five-year olds at times. I was only being nice."

From bedside her now, John reached out to take her arm. "Come on, Donna. Let's get a cold drink. I could certainly do with one."

"Yeah, he's all hot and worked up for you," Rory continued as though she hadn't chastised him. So she thumped him on the shoulder. "What did you do that for?" he wailed.

"Count yourself lucky I didn't aim much lower," she threatened, and stormed off.

The sound of guffaws followed them down the corridor, but John was determined not to lose his good mood. "Take no notice of them. It was meant to be at my expense. You know how they just love to wind you up."

"And they succeeded," she spat, "unfortunately. Sorry." Taking a few deep breaths, she visibly calmed down. "They remind me of all those adolescent idiots at school. Been a long time since I've been there. You'd think I'd have gotten over it by now."

Her teenage years had been blighted by pregnancy, he remembered, so John rubbed a hand over her shoulder in comfort. "It's not that long ago. Only a couple of years," he joked to lighten the mood.

"I wish," she stressed with a small laugh. "I forgot to ask. Did you manage to get through your mum earlier to invite her to come tonight?"

He winced slightly. "I did but she wasn't up to coming. Never mind. Another night, perhaps."

"Or failing that, perhaps we could go visit her," she suggested. "Have you taken many photos to show her later?"

"Quite a few," he admitted, bringing out his phone from a jacket pocket. "Want to see?"

They stood where they were, close together in the corridor, swiping through all the images he had captured. They were of the band, the audience, and a couple of both. "Careful, I almost got in one of these then," she teased, biting down on the disappointment she felt at the prominence of Rose in them all.

"You're in there," he protested. "See!" He efficiently pointed her out in several shots. "A bit blurred in that one," he admitted, "and that one. Okay, that one could have been better. This needs dealing with."

"What do you mean?" she squealed in laughter as he grabbed her hand and raced them back into their dressing room to switch on all the mirror lights.

"I mean," he began to explain as he held the phone aloft, "that we need to take some decent photos of you."

"Stop it," she futilely requested as he snapped away. "You don't need me in there. I was joking!"

"Nevertheless, this moment would not be properly recorded without you and that black dress," he insisted.

"This black dress?" she asked, looking down at her attire in confusion. "What's so special about it?"

"As if you didn't know," he mocked. "That dress is a weapon of mass destruction." He then neatly caught her reaction, much to his later pleasure.

"Can you hear yourself?" she laughed. "You talk as though it makes me some sort of goddess."

"And your point is?"

"Geroff!" she disparaged, giving his arm a swipe. "Now hand me the phone and I'll take some of you. Your mum will be much more interested in that."

"Shan't," he playfully denied as she grabbed his wrist.

"I bloody-well will."

He relented his hold on the phone when the impulse to kiss her was too much to contain. Kissing someone wearing stage makeup, however, is an acquired taste, he had discovered, despite the yearning. Especially when you have the someone you yearn for held within your embrace, full of fire and passion.

The moment was interrupted by a loud rap on the doorframe.

"Guess who I found nearby, outside in the bar," Martha announced. She was greeted by the bleary gaze of Donna and John standing incredibly close together. "Come on, tell me," she ordered.

"No idea," John stated.

"Who?" Donna asked at the same time.

"Someone you might remember," Martha coyly hinted and stepped aside to reveal a tall, handsome man with piercing blue eyes and a glittering smile.

There was an American twang to his accent as he said, "Hello Doctor."

"Hello Jack," John greeted his old friend, lurching forward to embrace him. "What are you doing here?"

"I read in the music press that you've joined The Companions, so I had to come and see for myself," Jack answered, and then spotted Rose waking nearby in the corridor, heading back towards the stage. "Well, hello Rose. I'm Jack," he schmoozed, moving into her pathway. "Nice to meet such a beautiful woman."

"Can you take the flirting elsewhere, please? I have a stage I have to be on," Donna grouched as she pushed passed.

"Donna?" John called after her, but she was determined to ignore him.