Disclaimer: all I own is my old wedding dress still hanging in the wardrobe.
A/N: this isn't much BUT at least I finally wrote something. :)

I Wanna Marry Somebody!

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The mottled pavement pounded beneath her feet as she ran. Out through the lynch gate of St Marys, past the railings, across the road, and right along the main road. Several people threw her strange looks, but she didn't notice nor care. Her thoughts were on getting away, rather than the designer dress that clung to her body in all the right places, or the crystal-threaded veil that flew out behind her as she kept a steady pace through the late Friday sunshine.

Having escaped from the vicinity of the church, Donna desperately cast her eyes around the world outside. How could it seem so normal when she hurt this much inside? She had to get away. Go find sanctuary to lick her wounds, but everywhere she immediately thought of would lead to her mother or Nerys sneering at her current situation, both mocking her latest mistake.

I mean, how could she have thought Lance loved her? Her, of all people? Of course he hadn't. It had all been a ruse. A wicked, evil ruse to humiliate her in front of all and sundry for his own entertainment. Or career plan. The full extent of his motives would probably be found out later, but for now, her personal disgrace was almost too much be borne.

She clasped a hand over her mouth to hold in the screams that welled up within her chest. This place was wrong. People didn't scream near places of worship. They hardly were allowed to show an emotion, let alone one as strong as the sobs trying to force their way out.

Where could she go? What place would offer the comfort she so desperately needed? Dad, her inner voice whispered, I want Dad. Back when she'd been a teenager, she'd often fled to him, in the only place her mother had no control. The place he worked.

It wasn't far from here, the voice whispered again, just go there and hide. Her feet had already started to carry her there. The building was looming in the distance, calling to her to enter.

She reached the entrance gasping for breath, so she paused to centre herself for a few seconds. As she walked through the main gates, the place seemed empty. The usual occupants had all gone home, thankfully. It would only be a matter of minutes before she could walk up the familiar old staircase and onto the floor beyond that held the room that used to hold her dad. Perhaps an essence of him was still there? If any place was going to be haunted by his ghost, it would be here. It was his happy place; and now it would be hers.

Luckily the room was vacant, with only the faintest of signs of life, so Donna steered herself through the door and chose the desk where he'd sat. Familiar smells of old wood, floor polish, and exercise books wafted up to greet her. Yes, this would be her home for a while, until she could face the world again.

.

It had been a tiring and challenging day for John Smith, PhD. Don't get me wrong, he loved his senior teaching position at Coal Hill School, but some aspects of it he could do without. Like having to introduce his subject to the likes of bored thirteen-year-olds who would rather watch the football game going on outside the window, or sneak looks at the messages on their phones. Yes, 'challenging' just about covered it.

Then again, he'd always liked a challenge. Testing your boundaries did you good, as far as he was concerned. And now that he'd refreshed himself from all the negative thoughts that jumped about in his head, he could return to his classroom to retrieve his jacket and briefcase.

He greeted the cleaner in the corridor outside room 10; a lovely woman called Marcie who always took the time to return the greeting. And then entered his room to find an intruder.

A figure completely clad in white was sobbing on a desktop. His desktop. He immediately froze on the spot, ready for a possible action. "Hello. I'm sorry. Can I help you?" he wondered. "What are you doing in here? Is this a dress rehearsal for the school production."

The figure lifted its head enough to demand through another sob, "Does this look like a dress rehearsal?!" A female face appeared from under the mound of white to state, "I'm in my wedding dress. I was supposed to get married."

"You look lovely," he faintly but politely complimented.

"Ugh! What's the use," she declared, throwing herself back down onto the desktop. "He doesn't want me. Never did, and I have only just found out. The whole world knows now."

"I didn't know." When she looked up at him, he admitted, "I don't even know who you are, let alone had any misguided thoughts about your ex's feelings."

She glared at him for not knowing. "Don't you watch daytime television?"

In answer, he threw his arms wide to denote the room around them. "I'm a teacher. When do I get the time or chance to watch that?"

"The holidays," she suggested, and smiled when he laughed.

"I can only wish," he confessed. "School holidays are spent ferrying my daughter about to whatever is the latest entertainment fad."

"So… this is your classroom," she noted. Moving her head to survey the room caused her to wince when the veil she wore tugged on her hair. Shouldn't have accidentally sat on the veil, she thought in hindsight. The thing would have to go.

"Yes, this is my kingdom," he joked. "I'm John Smith. Well, Dr John Smith to be honest, if you want to be more formal, but it's a bit of a mouthful."

"Hello Doctor," she replied, and pulled away the last pin that held her veil in place before removing it all. "I'm Donna."

"Hello Donna," he gasped as all her long ginger hair was revealed. "Nice to meet you, despite the unhappy circumstances."

"Unhappy? Oh, I see what you mean. It's not every day some weird woman turns up in your classroom in a wedding dress. It was a real wedding, by the way, and I'm not a madwoman. It was just the groom that was fake."

"He'll deeply regret it." Easing forward, he quickly tacked on, "The upsetting you part, rather than the whole… Look, shall we go and get ourselves a coffee down in the staffroom and give the cleaners a chance to do their job?"

"Sorry," she sniffed. "You're probably desperate to get home to your wife and kids, and I'm holding you up with all my misery."

"No, not really," he admitted, "although my daughter should be waiting down there. It's just us two."

Divorced or widowed? she wondered. More likely the former and the ex-wife was off making whoopee with her new squeeze. "Then let's go meet her," Donna suggested. "I'll even try to put her off men and marriage for ever, if you want."

Opening the classroom door wide in invitation, he admitted, "I can live with that. Just don't include me in your anti-man rant."

"You've been a star so far," she whispered as she walked past him to enter the corridor beyond.

Marcie the cleaner entered the room moments later and picked up the exquisite veil in wonder, with loads of questions in her head. One of which was: what the hell was she expected to do with it?

.

The staffroom was almost the same as she remembered it, except it had had a lick of paint at some point. She couldn't help glancing at the wooden pigeonholes on the staffroom wall, at the spot where her dad used to get all his messages put. It seemed odd to see a different name adorning it now.

"Hello Dad."

The young voice brought her attention round, and she saw a pretty blonde teen, aged about fifteen, who looked nothing like him. It was on Donna's lips to ask if he was sure he was the father, but you never know the background to a relationship, so she greeted the girl with a, "Hello."

A somewhat flummoxed John did the introductions. "Hello Jenny. This is Donna. She suddenly turned up in my classroom and is in need of a coffee."

"In a wedding dress?" Jenny queried.

Before he could offer an explanation, Donna joked, "Well, it helps to wear something. Especially when you're about to be dumped at the altar by an utter piece of shi… of shining manhood."

Jenny giggled at the shocked expression on her father's face. But there was a question she was dying to ask before anything else was said. "Aren't you Donna Noble?"

"Erm…" Donna exchanged a wide-eyed glance with John. "Yes, that's me. In the flesh. And wedding dress."

Jenny jumped up out of her chair to bounce on the spot. "Oh my God. Oh my God! I must tell Amy," Jenny gushed. "This can't be real."

"Jenny!" John warned.

"Unfortunately, it's very real," Donna muttered at the same time.

"Real enough to be somebody's life," John pointed out to his daughter. "No telling anyone. And anyway; how do you know who she is?"

"Dad!" Jenny chided. "Do be serious. Donna is often on the telly. We watch her every afternoon whenever I go round Amy's."

"Do you?" John scratched behind his ear. "Didn't know that. Can't say I'd ever heard of her until today. What does she do?"

"She's got a chat show. If I remember right, she was supposed to be marrying Lance today. He's on the show too. Something must have gone wrong."

"Dreadfully wrong," John agreed with his daughter.

"I'm beginning to wonder if you can actually see me too," Donna protested. "I am standing here, you know."

"Bit hard to miss," he unthinkingly responded. The tears welling up in her eyes caused him to amend his words, "In a good way. Because here you are, a vision in a wedding dress."

But what sort of vision? Probably a nightmare, she considered.

"What happens next? Do we get to keep her?" Jenny wondered.

"She is not a pet!"

"And again, she is still standing here," Donna snarked. "You could ask me."

"Rightio. Donna, what do you want to do next?" he asked.

"You could come home with us and have dinner," Jenny offered. "Dad's planning a curry."

"I'm sure I can eke it out to feed three," he agreed. "We've got plenty of rice."

"I'm not sure what I should do next," Donna admitted, "but a curry does sound lovely and I'm starving."

"Okay. Then let's start from there."

.

A stunned Marcia had muttered, "Hello Donna," as they'd left the building. But Donna was fairly used to that reaction and didn't think anything of it. Being handed back her veil was a new experience though.

Her main concern was squashing herself into the back of John's car without any of the dress, or the veil she carrcarried, in the car door. This dress had cost a small fortune, so she hoped to be able to redeem some of the cost later by selling it on. Or at least donating it to a reputable charity.

Having huffed about for a few minutes adjusting the material around her, she became aware of John's eyes staring at her via the rear-view mirror. "Go on. Ask your questions," she goaded.

"Well. It's just. If you are famous-"

"She is," interrupted Jenny. "What?! she demanded when his stare fixed on her. "Well, she is. Get over it. Sorry you didn't know."

He cleared his throat and returned to his question. "If you are famous, why would you run to the school when you could have gone literally anywhere?"

"Like where?" Donna challenged.

"The south of France. Out on some posh yacht. Up to the Lake District. I don't know. A flight to the Algarve," he suggested. "Virtually anywhere."

"I see what you mean," she allowed. "I came here because of my dad."

"Does he own the place?"

"No, nothing like that," she laughed. "My dad used to teach here. In fact, you've got the same classroom."

"Oh wow," John replied, not knowing what else to say. Then a name occurred to him. "He's not Geoffrey Noble, is he?"

"Was," Donna corrected. "Yes, that's him."

A broad smile lit up John's face. "I've heard a lot of good things about him."

"Thanks," she sniffed, fighting off another bout of sobs. It wouldn't do to let go in front of John's daughter. "So, Jenny, do you hear anything good about your dad?"

The scornful snort Jenny gave caused Donna to laugh for the first time in hours; especially as John went a bright pink.

A/N2: I might comtinue this one later.