An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 5
Title: An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 5 (5 of ?)
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Beta/Co-Captain of this Ship: WhosInTheAttic- you complete me. Any and all mistakes are my own.
Rating: All for now, but later.... (And because you've all been soooo patient with me, I promise some of that hinted-at M content on Friday...)
Word Count: 4,232
Summary: While investigating a murder, Peter meets a woman whose life is an even bigger mystery.
Disclaimer: Donna and Peter both belong to others, except in my own twisted version of what should be. My Great and Glorious plan is to post at least once a week, and always on Friday.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8.1 | Part 8.2 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12
Part 5: Saturday, 21 April 2012, 9:00 AM
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Peter rolled over and looked at the bedside clock, rolling his eyes in consternation. It was 9 AM: far too late for him to still be lying in bed, but he’d had a late night at the station and bed was as good a place as any to think about what he’d found. No, that’s not quite right, he thought, it’s not what I found, but what I didn’t find. Because, try as he might, though he searched for hours, he couldn’t find any scrap of information- no hospital records, no accident reports, no work history, no bills, nothing at all- about a Donna Noble from March of 2009 until September of the same year. Prior to Christmas 2007, he’d found the usual data trail people left behind in the course of their daily lives- mobile phone bills, tax records, employment histories and the like. Shortly after New Year, 2008, he’d even found airline records and travel arrangements in her name for a trip to Egypt. After that, however, there were gaps: strange, long, stuttering holes in her history until March of 2009 when Donna Noble, for all intents and purposes, simply disappeared from the face of the earth for seven months.
To vanish so completely in the 21st century was impossible, he’d reflected, if she’d been in country at the time. Criminal masterminds with billions at their disposal would be envious of how completely and totally she’d disappeared from the public records and yet, with no financial resources he could find for her at the time, she had. Her employment history had been steady, working as a temp for various firms in various positions up until June of 2007. That was when she’d taken a position as a temporary secretary with H.C. Clements, where she’d apparently met her fiancee. He found an engagement announcement that mentioned a wedding scheduled for 24 December 2007 between Donna and a Lance Bennett, but no records that it had actually taken place. There was a Lance Bennett listed among the casualties of the deadly Christmas Star that had appeared in the sky that night, but his body apparently had never been recovered.
Then suddenly, in September of 2009, she was back as if she’d never been gone. All the normal rhythms of life were instantly put back in place and on 3 April, 2010, she was married to a Shaun Temple. One week passed and she won a staggering £4.1 million in the fifth-ever triple rollover lottery drawing and almost a year to the day later, she was amicably divorced from her husband. It was all a very strange puzzle without a solution, and Peter detested unsolved puzzles.
And this unsolved puzzle was not going to be resolved by him laying about any longer, he decided, inhaling deeply through his nose and rubbing his face vigorously with his hands. He rolled out of bed and headed for the shower and his lunch appointment with Ms. Noble.
**********
It was Donna’s turn to kill time as she arrived at the Turnham Green Cafe early to wait for Peter. She’d been surprised when he’d suggested it for their meeting place as it was almost literally across the street from her flat, but then she’d remembered that he was a detective. She figured that since he knew she lived in the area, he was trying to put her at ease by keeping her on home ground. The Turnham Green was small and a bit shabby, but had some of the best cheap Thai food in London. It usually got very busy at lunchtime so she’d gotten there early and claimed a table for two. That’s where Peter found her when he arrived, sipping a Thai iced tea and trying to read a book.
At the sound of the bell on the door, Donna glanced up. Peter greeted her with a warm, slow smile that gave her butterflies inside and she couldn't help but smile back like a schoolgirl as he walked over to the table. She ducked her head and bit her bottom lip when she looked at him properly. He was wearing snug, worn jeans and a simple grey jumper with a slight v-neck that revealed a white t-shirt under. Trainers, no coat, and Donna noticed with a trace of amusement that he was very freshly shaved. What did his clothes say, she reflected, besides I’m gorgeous and I don’t need to get all dressed up for you to notice it?”
Both times they had met, she had been surprised by his dry wit and obvious intelligence. It was the greater part of his charm, actually, as physically, he wasn't the type she usually went for. But in his case, she might just have to make an exception, Donna decided as he approached her table. She had idly wondered if he would be different now that he wasn't playing the role of 'Copper' and was just being Peter Carlisle, and seeing the look on his face, she had an inkling. He was deriving an inordinate amount of pleasure just from walking across the room and there was a faintly challenging playfulness about him that made her want to have a bit of fun herself.
"Detective Inspector,” she drawled, enjoying the way he smirked in return. She was fighting to keep a straight face and she knew he could see it. She chewed her lip as she considered how far to push her cheek.
Donna wouldn't make a very good poker player, Peter thought- she had a tell. If she bit her lip, she was debating something. The longer she held it, the more she was thinking. When the lip was released, though, a decision had been reached. This entry, along with the head tilt, which could mean anything from a self-deprecating Go on, I don't believe you to an all-out You're completely bonkers, and Peter was well on his way to compiling Donna's non-verbal lexicon. The smile she was currently struggling to suppress added another entry he was pleased to see.
"Ms. Noble," he replied, as he took a seat across from her, formal tone at odds with his amused expression, "I keep askin’ that you call me Peter. What will it take for you to comply with that simple request?" He leaned on the table, arms casually crossed before him.
"I'll consider it, DI Carlisle, when you stop callin’ me Ms. Noble," she whipped back at him, eyes dancing. She cocked her head to the side and finally gave in to the smile that had been struggling to escape.
He conceded her point with a gesture and a nod. "Touché, Donna. You have me there," he admitted. Her eyebrow twitched and she quickly glanced down at her menu in a futile attempt to hide her guilty reaction. Was he openly flirting with her or was her dirty mind getting the better of her?
When the resultant pause in conversation threatened to become uncomfortable, Peter reached for a menu and asked, "So, what's good here?" He looked over the menu at Donna expectantly and was gratified to find her openly watching him. The uncertainty and hesitation he'd observed in her the previous day was absent, replaced with a a slightly mischievous self-confidence that he was warming to. Her smile deepened when she realized she'd been caught looking yet again, and Peter was pleased that this time, although she did color a tiny bit, she didn't look away. She momentarily bit her lip and this time, he was pretty sure she had just come a conclusion where he was concerned.
"You had Thai before?" Donna asked abruptly.
"No," Peter answered, "but I like Indian and Chinese. Point of fact," he continued, "I can’t think of anythin' I've had an not liked..." he admitted, scratching his neck, faintly embarrassed at the confession. "Guess I'm just easy that way."
Donna smiled and bit back on her retort. All in good time, girl she thought before responding. "Everything's good here, really, but you can't go wrong with the Pad Thai," she finally said. "It's tasty and pretty mild. I don't know how hot you like it," she paused a moment and her smile turned sly before continuing, " so maybe we should play it safe...for now." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper and she tapped the table with her own menu. Donna had to purse her lips to stifle a grin at the startled expression that flitted across his face.
He recovered quickly, Donna realized, when Peter came back with, "I leave myself in your obviously capable hands.” He could tell from her cheeky grin that she had a retort at the ready but had elected to hold back. Peter surmised that they had reached Level One in their banter, and despite Donna's obvious desire and demonstrated ability to take it to the next level, she wouldn't do so without encouragement. The flashes of humor in her quick-witted responses were immensely appealing and he couldn't help but wonder what she would be like if the pall of past losses were to be cast off her present. Peter decided he wanted to find out and set about becoming very encouraging.
"You trust me, then?" she asked as she stood and moved towards the counter.
"Until you give me reason to do otherwise," he shrugged, still smiling at Donna.
"Seafood? I mean, other than fish?" she queried suddenly, an afterthought.
Peter’s lips quirked into a half smile as he nodded to her, "Aye - love it, and even if I didn't, I'll try anythin’ at least once."
"I'll do my best to ensure you won't regret that decision later on," she tossed over her shoulder before she turned back to the counter and placed their order. In no time, their food was ready and Peter smiled as Donna pointed and named each dish. She’d ordered an assortment for him to try- soft, salady Summer Rolls, chicken Sa-Tay, an order of shrimp Pad Thai for him, and an order of Yum Ta Lay for herself.
“I took a cue from your definition of an assortment, I'm afraid," she said with a smile as she spooned a portion of the Yum Ta Lay on a plate for herself. “Try everythin’ so you’ll know what you like if you decide to have Thai again. It’s one of my favorite cuisines, up there with a good curry and an order of fish and chips.”
Peter followed her advice, trying a bit of this and that and nodded his approval. “You’re right, everythin’ is good. Thanks for the introduction,” he said while gesturing with his fork. “I have a new addition to my list of establishments to frequent.”
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before Donna ventured to ask, “So, if you'll forgive the presumption, how does a nice Scots lad like you end up in the big, bad city of London? Or Chiswick, to be more precise.”
Peter paused a moment, chewing slowly before answering. "I admit, It's not where I aimed to be, just where I've ended up."
“And what do you think of it?” she nudged. Now that he was talking about himself, Donna was eager to find out more. She felt calm and confident in his presence today for some reason, as though she’d known him forever instead of four days.
Peter wondered at the subtle change in her demeanor and thought he might be seeing the real Donna Noble again, the lively woman who’d bantered with him at the George. He had hoped to see that woman again and he slipped back easily into the overtly playful tone of their first conversation. “I didn't much at first, but I'm starting to take a shine to it. Took me a bit to get settled in, I reckon. But the food’s good, there are several bookshops nearby, and the locals are startin’ to be friendly,” he finished with a smile.
“Family?” Donna asked, fighting to keep from glancing at his left hand. She’d already surmised there might have been a ring there once, long ago, but not now. She looked briefly down at her plate to hide her curiosity and took a bite, waiting for him to continue.
“Not much to speak of,” Peter confessed. “My Da's passed, my mum took it as a personal affront when first I left for Kendal, and an older brother I haven’t seen in almost...ten years now?” he continued. “We're not what you'd call close.”
“I’m sorry,” Donna said quietly, reaching across the table to touch the back of his hand. She had something of a love/hate relationship with her own mother, but she couldn’t even begin to imagine how someone could cope with life entirely on their own, even with her own strained familial relationships.
Peter favored her with another slow, warm smile, pleased beyond reason at her compassionate response. He slowly moved his hand under hers until he could turn to clasp her fingers gently as he spoke.
“Can’t blame her too much. I gave her a fair bit of trouble as a lad-you know the way, bored in school, minor brushes with the constabulary- and she never really forgave me, especially since I joined said constabulary.” He ducked his head a bit and scratched absently at his ear. “Sort of confirmed her low opinion of them, if they'd take on one such as me,” he finished, watching Donna for her reaction. She hadn’t taken her eyes off their hands since he began speaking.
Donna was a master of self-deprecation herself, so she decided to let his comment pass. “Do you miss it?” she asked, looking up and changing the subject abruptly.
Peter looked confused momentarily. “Kendal?” he asked.
“No, Scotland,” she clarified with a smile.
“Oh, aye, but you know as they say, you cannae go home again. There isn’t such a place after you’ve emigrated.” He shrugged, but looked wistful for a moment. He shook off his melancholy and with an exaggerated intake of breath deflected the conversation. "Enough of me. What of you?"
“What do you want to know that you don’t already?” Donna asked. She wasn’t attempting to hide anything from him but honestly didn’t know what else to say. Other than her missing time, she felt she was entirely unremarkable. “I was born and raised here in Chiswick and other than a bit of travel, I haven’t done anythin’ of note. I wasn’t very good in school myself, more because I just gave up tryin’ to please my mum than anythin’ else, I guess. Nothin’ I ever do is good enough, so why bother?” She looked past him and tried to smile.
Peter astutely noted her use of the present-tense and tightened his grip on her hand slightly. “And what do you do when you’re not passin’ by crime scenes or having lunch with errant DIs?” he teased, trying to pull her attention back to him.
“I’m just a temp,” she said quietly. “That was how I met my first fiancé, Lance, and it’s really all I know how to do. I stopped when I married- didn’t have to work then, you know- but after...,” she trailed off, lost in remembrance. Peter nudged her hand gently and she continued. “Well, I was just bored with nothing to do. Tempin’ has it’s advantages, you know. I work steadily, but it’s flexible. I can swoop in, help out and swan off before I form any attachments to anyone. I get to pick and choose what sounds interestin’ and it leaves me time to travel a bit. I used to love that, but lately, it's no fun if I have to travel on my own.”
“None of your friends can go with you?” Peter asked.
Donna tilted her head to the side and regarded him for a long moment before responding. “I don’t really have anyone you’d call a friend anymore. Not since the divorce, anyway.” She looked down at her hand in his and seemed puzzled for a second before she continued. “When I first came back after my disappearance, it was like I hadn’t even been gone. I fell back in with my old friends- Veena, Nerys and the rest. But after a bit, I found that I just didn’t have the same connection with them anymore. There’s more to life than just the latest fashions and celebrity gossip.” She looked back up into his eyes, searching for something there.
“I mean, that’s right, yeah? I wanted to see the world and learn about other people and places, but all they wanted was to hit the beach. Don’t mistake me- I love a good beach as much as the next girl, but I couldn’t interest any of them in goin’ anywhere other than that.” Donna looked away, ashamed, before she admitted, “This sounds terrible, but I just got bored with the lot of them. Bored with going to the same places and hearin’ the same gossip over and over. And so when they started makin’ excuses and not meetin’ up with me anymore, I didn’t mind. Only Nerys still sees me and I think she only hangs about with me to make her own life seem better by comparison.” Donna suddenly came back to herself and smiled at Peter. “A bit more of an answer than you wanted, huh?”
“No, Donna, I want to hear anythin’ you want to tell me,” Peter assured her. “But I have to ask, about your disappearance, do you remember anythin'? Anythin’ at all? Where you went? Who you might have gone with?”
“No, Peter,” she replied, “nothin’- there’s nothin’ there.”
“And your family- they don’t know what happened to precipitate the memory loss? Do you not remember a fall, an accident, anythin' at all?” Peter pressed her, watching her intently.
“I’m sorry, but no. And there are no scars, no marks on me anywhere, I’ve looked,” she replied, sighing deeply. “If I were in an accident, wouldn't there be signs of trauma?”
Peter involuntarily found himself imagining looking for those non-existent marks and mentally shook himself in an effort to return to the conversation. “And your divorce- it was final in April of 2011, right?” Peter clarified. At Donna’s stunned silence, he cautiously continued, “I’m just tryin’ to narrow everything down, Donna.”
“You've already started investigatin’ me, then?” she murmured. For a just an irrational moment, the idea really bothered her, and Donna had to bite back an instinctive retort- You Google all your dates, Detective Inspector Carlisle? Am I just another case to solve?- but instead, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep, calming breath before continuing. "I just...don't understand. I’m nothin’ special, so why are you doing this again, Peter?" She regarded him steadily, but Peter saw the tears that were threatening to form.
The despair in her words tore at his heart but he carefully controlled his expression. "Donna, I’ve already told you,’ he replied evenly, never taking his eyes from her face. “I want to help; isn't that enough of a reason?"
"But why?" Donna whispered, desperately trying and failing to keep her tears from spilling over. She tried to ignore them as long as possible before giving up and angrily scrubbing at her face with her free hand.
Without hesitation, Peter whispered back, "Because it makes you unhappy, and I think you should be happy. I want you to be happy." He gently stroked the back of her hand, still in his, with his thumb and observed her steadily.
Donna watched him watch her and she realized Peter wasn’t going to look away or back down. She finally softened and allowed herself to believe that he wasn’t playing a game, that he was serious, and her heart fluttered as she saw the concern behind his eyes. "Alright, then, Policeman," she said quietly with a hesitant smile.
Peter’s answering grin danced across his face momentarily before he regained his composure. He had just won a decisive battle in the war for Donna’s trust and he knew the nickname she had awarded him was his own Conspicuous Gallantry Cross. For the first time since he met her, he allowed himself to hope for something more from their budding relationship, but he purposely controlled his external response. It wouldn’t do to get ahead of himself here and spook her in the process. Some lessons were learned once and didn’t need to be repeated.
“So, what are your plans for the rest of this glorious spring day?” he finally asked when he was sure he was once more in control of his voice.
After all that, he was still talking to her? Donna wondered inside as she slowly answered. “Uhm, not much, really. I goin’ to help out at the RSPCA a bit later, but just from three to six this evenin’.”
“Another temp job?” he asked.
"No," she slowly admitted, "a temp that became a semi-regular volunteer job. I was a receptionist for them for a bit and I saw a need. It's nothin’, really. I just let the regulars get an early start to their Saturday night, " she confessed with a matter-of-fact shrug.
At his answering look of incredulity, she quickly justified herself. “Really, stop lookin’ at me like that. It's nothing special- just a bit of volunteer work and it’s only for a few hours a month.”
Peter closed his mouth with a snap. He nodded his agreement to her statement, but wondered if she really was so clueless about how remarkable her actions were. In this day and age, she continued to work as a temp just to help others out, even though, given her lottery winnings, she must not need the money? Giving away her time when she could have easily been paid for it? “Between now and then?” he ventured when she didn’t go on.
“Hadn’t really thought about it, so I guess I don’t really have any- maybe head out to the cinema or maybe get another book- I'm almost done with this one- and go out to the park. It’s supposed to be a lovely day,” she finished hopefully.
“What are you readin’?” he asked as he craned his neck to see the cover of the paperback she’d indicated. “Great Expectations? Really?”
Donna blushed at his comment and explained, “Nowadays, I’m readin’ all the stuff I should have read in school but no one bothered to tell me at the time that they were actually good stories. So now, I read some of this and that, trying to broaden my horizons, as they say.” She looked up at him and smiled shyly. “I used to like romance novels, but honestly, they all have the same plot and after a bit, it gets rather borin’,” she finished, realizing that she was rambling in her nervousness. “And you? What are your plans, then?”
Peter nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders as he answered teasingly, “Oh, I thought maybe I’d do a bit more research on a pet project, but other than that, I rather fancied gettin’ a good book, findin’ myself a pretty girl and then spending a lazy afternoon in the park with her.” He was pleased to see Donna’s smile spread into a grin as he spoke. “You game?” he asked, squeezing her hand gently before releasing it. She nodded her assent and moved to gather her belongings.
“To the library, then?” Peter said as he pushed back from the table to leave. Donna stopped, fighting a chill of foreboding, as if someone were standing on her grave and she blurted out hastily, “No, no, the book I want isn’t there.” Peter sat back again, watching her carefully and waiting, eyes asking all the questions he wasn’t giving voice to. Under his patient gaze, Donna calmed and gave him an embarrassed smile. “I volunteer at the Chiswick Library every other Thursday, so I know it isn’t in the collection, is all,” she said.
“That’s all?” he queried.
“That’s all,” she replied firmly, but she could tell he suspected there was more to her reaction. She glanced down and was surprised to find herself fidgeting, right hand loosely clasping the left, her thumb worrying up and down the length of her third finger. She bit her lip for just a moment, then admitted, “I’m sorry, I know it’s mental, but I just got the strangest feelin’ of déjà vu or somethin’, like we shouldn’t go to the library together...”
Peter watched carefully as Donna stilled and trailed off, losing track of the here and now as she tried to step back into her past, brow furrowed in concentration. He noted the way she stroked her hand absently from time to time as she struggled to remember something, another entry in his own book, the Mystery of Donna Noble. She bit her bottom lip harder and he was afraid she’d draw blood if this continued, so he slowly reached across the table and pulled her right hand into his. “Donna,” he said quietly, “let’s go to the book store, then?” At his words, all the tension drained from her face and hands and she favored him with a slow, delighted smile. “That sounds lovely, Policeman.”
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8.1 | Part 8.2 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12