Hurt/Comfort prompt: captivity
AUprompts: fashion & models AU, private detectives(s) AU
Disclaimer: no, I am not trying to nick another well-known men's clothing line; just borrowing the name for a while, for personal reasons.
A/N: written for the hc_bingo Round 11.
A/N2: the second part of this trilogy isn't written, but the third part is, so I'm posting it.
The Final Chapter
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The computer blooped a tune to signify a call. John noted it was Will, so he hardly hesitated before answering. "Hello Will."
"Hello John. Just thought I'd check up on you," Will greeted him. "How are the wrists now?"
John held up his hands in demonstration. "Healing nicely, thanks. Finally got the handcuffs off and I can escape captivity. The casts came off yesterday. I have to start physiotherapy tomorrow."
"What about the leg?"
"Still needs some work," he airily replied as he thought about the pins holding his leg together.
"I bet you can't wait to get back to normal," Will remarked
"Whatever that is," John bitterly remarked. "I'm more like the bionic man now."
"What about the rest of you?"
"Getting there," John replied. "I heard from the insurance company about replacing the bike. I erm… I don't know if I want to sit on a motorbike again."
"There's no hurry, mate. Whenever you're ready," Will consoled him. "Nobody would blame you if you got a car instead."
Once again images of the accident flashed through John's mind. The teenager racing someone else along the carriageway, jumping the traffic lights, and then ploughing into John's beloved motorbike. He gulped to shake away the unwanted vision, wanting to distance himself from the pain that followed. "I know."
"Have you spoken to Donna's mum lately?" Will suddenly asked.
It took a second or two for John to answer breathily, "No."
"John, you have got to get out of your flat; at least for a while. It's become your prison."
"I am getting out!" he protested.
"I mean to places other than the hospital." Will sighed. "Why don't you come round here for a while. Have a break from the same four walls."
"Thanks for the invite. I'll think about it."
Knowing it was low of him to do so, Will tried saying, "What would Donna say if she saw you moping like this?"
"She'd recognise I'm a prisoner held captive in my own private hell and let me get on with it." He amended it to, "For a while, before verbally kicking my butt. Anyway…" He drew in a breath before continuing, "thanks for opening the box from Masterson for me." He looked towards the box with anguish in his eyes.
Will stilled, waiting for something else to stated. Alas, there wasn't. "If your wrists hurt too much, leave it for another time," he advised. "There's no rush. Let me know how you get on."
"I'll do that. Bye Will." And then he was left staring at a blank screen with only his thoughts to occupy him.
Taking a mental step forward, John dragged a cardboard box across the tabletop. The label across the top proclaimed it to be from the photographic studio of Daniel Masterson. He cautiously opened the box flaps, dipped his hand inside, and brought out the first item it encountered. It was a framed photograph and he gasped, throwing a hand over his mouth as he gazed at the image.
It was a photo Daniel had recently taken. On hearing of John and Donna's engagement, he had magnanimously offered to take some photographs for posterity; and perhaps sell for a small profit to 'Hello!' magazine or the tabloids. Well, it had only seemed fair to allow him that, since he had been the means of them meeting.
The photoshoot had taken place with the evening sun setting behind them, stood in a corn field before harvest had taken place, with the glorious light shining through their long ginger tresses. In some of the shots, they could have been mistaken for faerie folk, but each one as beautiful. And of course, Daniel knew how to capture the whimsical loving expression on John's face, as though he couldn't quite believe he had finally found love with the woman beside him. As for Donna, she was happy and content, enjoying her moment in the spotlight.
"Finally worked up the courage to look, have you?" Donna questioned him from the doorway.
Hastily wiping his hand across his eyes so that she wouldn't see the tears there, he retorted, "As always, I'm amazed by my beauty. It stunned me."
"You know, one day your modesty will destroy you," she teased, edging closer to look with him. She leaned on him to point at the photo. "Ah, that one," she murmured on seeing them bathed in warm colours. "Where were you thinking of putting it?"
"I don't know," he lied. "Perhaps in the bedroom."
"Which one? Yours or mine?"
She was stood against his shoulder, and he closed his eyes to reveal in the warmth it gave him. "Probably mine but I can put another one in yours, if you like," he offered.
"Thanks. I'd like that. Daniel really is a talented photographer," she commented. "Shame he had a lump like me to cope with, but he did extraordinarily well."
His hand reached up to take hers possessively. "He brought out the true you," he insisted.
"What? All sort of ginger?" she mused.
"Well, yes, I'd say that," he agreed on a yawn.
"Look at you. All tired," she fondly chided, ruffling his hair. "I still can't get used to it being shorter."
"It made sense, after the accident and all that blood matted it up, to chop off those bits and get a new style," he explained. "Don't you like it?"
"I do," she insisted, "it's just that it's different. Not the 'you' I normally know. But I'll get used to it eventually. Now, Mr November," she said in a sterner voice, "time for you to go to bed."
"Do I have to?" he wondered as she encouraged him to get up off his chair. "It's not that late."
"In which world are you living if midnight ain't late?" she grumbled. "Tell you what, I'll even escort you there."
"You are so kind."
"I know," she mock bragged. "All part of my charm."
The comfort she offered, holding onto his arm, felt good until he reached his bedroom door, and his previous dread returned. Fear of his nightmares reared up again and threatened to engulf him.
Suddenly, he was reminded of the sickening thud as the car had hit them, flying through the air before landing in a crunch of metal several metres away. And then the stillness as he found Donna laying on the road surface in a pool of blood. So much blood. It had covered everything. Even her helmet as he had tried to hold her in his arms.
"Don't think of that moment," she begged. "I'm here. Safe and not in pain."
"I don't…," he brokenly stuttered. "I can't. It's hard not to."
"I know," she softly answered. "Me too."
"Donna," he softly requested. "Will you stay with me?"
"Of course, I will," she retorted. "I'll be just down the hallway."
"No," he said to halt her retreat. "I mean… Would you… could you… please, Donna. I don't want to sleep alone tonight."
She gazed into his eyes to assess his words. Okay, he wouldn't try anything on. Never had previously, and there was no reason for him to try this time. "Alright, I'll stay with you."
"Do you promise?" he asked in a small voice.
Nodding, she confirmed, "I'll stay as long as you like. For as long as you need me."
A few minutes later he was tucked up in bed, with her wrapped around him from behind. "Donna, there's something I have to tell you."
"Are you secretly a woman? Because I might have guessed," she commented to make him laugh.
It worked. "No," he chuckled, "that isn't it."
"Then what is it?"
"I erm… Do you still think of me as Mr November? Or do you actually like me?"
"Where's this come from?" she playfully huffed; and gave his cheek a peck of her lips. "As fiancés go, real and imaginary, I'm rather fond of you. Will that do?"
"Yes." He couldn't help smiling to himself, glorifying in her unspoken affection. "Same for you."
"Good. Now can we go to sleep?" she demanded.
"I plan to," he assured.
With one last squeeze of her hands, he drifted off into sleep. Knowing she was there for his comfort calmed him down considerably. It kept the nightmares away, and the pain at a minimum.
When he woke the following morning, she was gone, as he'd expected, leaving an abyss of painful yearning that would continue to renew itself for many such mornings to come. Rolling out from under the bedclothes, he picked up the framed photograph sitting on his bed side table and studied it. A cheeky Donna smiled out at him, whilst his face in it was turned to fondly gaze at her.
He instantly pressed his lips against the glass and murmured the words he had never dared say to her in real life. "I love you, Donna. I always will."
Still wiping the tears from his eyes, he forced himself to stand and meet the day without her. It was easier now that he knew she would return when he needed her to.
-o0o-
A/N3: in case you're wondering, I found out a work colleague has liver cancer and this tale of woe insisted on being written as a consequence.