She sipped the tea, and discovered it was with a little milk, one sugar. ‘Lucky guess?’ she asked.
‘Spies,’ he answered with a grin, putting the biscuits down beside her. ‘Comes in handy being boss sometimes.’
She gave him a tired look. ‘Don’t you have anything better to do than to make me a pot of tea?’ she asked.
He pretended to consider the question seriously, and then shook his head. ‘Nope, not a thing.’
Donna snorted. ‘You’ve taken over effective power in this whole damned area,’ she said. ‘You’re merging London and Haldoran Domains, cleaning up after the Daleks, and you’ve nothing better to do than make me tea? Excuse my disbelief.’
‘I’m getting used to it,’ he replied. ‘I notice you disbelieve everything out of habit, But, I swear, it’s true – I’ve nothing more important to do.’
‘You must rate making tea really high on the scale of things,’ she jibed.
‘Not the tea.’ He took the other seat in the room, and nodded at the bed. ‘How is he?’
‘God knows.’ Donna sighed. ‘There’s been no change for two days.’
‘Well, at least he’s not getting worse.’ Barlow leaned forward. ‘He saved us all, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, he bloody well did,’ Donna agreed. She sipped at her tea, refusing to let her emotions overwhelm her as they had so often these past two days. It was time to change the subject. ‘How’s it feel to be the new Lord London?’
‘Strange,’ he admitted. ‘But right.’ His face softened.’ Though I’m sorry your father was killed. That wasn’t my intention.’
That made her snort tea out of her nose. ‘You led the bloody war against him!’
‘Politics, not preference,’ Barlow said. ‘I wouldn’t have killed him.’
‘More fool you, then,’ Donna replied, still not really believing him. ‘He never gave in to anything in his life with grace.’
‘No,’ Barlow agreed. ’Well, I’ve had enough of killing. Seeing how close the Daleks came to wiping us out made me realise what an idiot I’ve been.’
Donna raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘So you’re giving up power and heading off to be a monk,’ she jeered.
‘Hardly,’ he responded with a grin. ‘Like I said, I’m the best man to bring everything together now. Only I want to do it peacefully – or at least, try to. It ought to be possible for us to reason this out. Besides, I’d make a lousy monk – my mind’s far too filthy.’
Donna looked as if she was about to smile. ‘I see. Well, I’m pleased to hear you talk of peace, anyway.’
He shrugged, and looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘Which really brings me to why I’m here,’ he said.
She glanced down at the mug of tea. ‘You’re not really the kitchen help?’
‘I want you to marry me,’ he said.
Donna looked at him sharply. ‘You’ve got a bloody nerve!’
That made him grin. ‘Yeah, haven’t I? I’ve cheek enough for ten people. Don’t worry, I’m not talking a love match here or anything. It’s purely political. It will stabilise things if I marry the old Lord London’s daughter, won’t it?’
Trying not to think too hard about it, Donna nodded. ‘Or one of his other relatives,’ she added.
Barlow scowled. ‘It’s you or that cow Brittany,’ he said. ‘And I know you don’t care for me much, but would you saddle anyone with that bitch?’
Donna paused for a moment, as if she were considering the question. ‘I’m seriously tempted,’ she replied. ‘You two do sort of deserve one another.’
‘God forbid!’ he said, fervently. ‘She could tempt me into monkdom.’
Donna didn’t even smile at the joke. ‘I don’t want to get married,’ she answered. ‘And you don’t really want to marry me, anyway.’
He leaned forward. ‘Is it because of him?’ he asked, gesturing to the bed.
Donna did have to think about that for a moment before shaking her head. ‘No. I’m not in love with him. I owe him a lot – but he’s not the reason.’
‘Well –’ Barlow began.
Donna almost felt like punching him. ‘Can’t you get it through your head that I don’t want anyone?’ she demanded. ‘Not him, not you, not anyone. I want to be left alone.’
He was silent for a moment. ‘And that’s it?’ he asked. ‘You want to retreat into a shell for the rest of your life? Where nobody can reach you?’
Donna said nothing.
For a moment, Barlow looked annoyed. ‘Look, I know I’m a miserable sod,’ he complained, ‘but I’m not a liar. I’m very proud of that. I won’t ever lie to you. Hell, I could have come in here and pretended I was so smitten with you that I had to marry you. I could have just sat here and lied. Would that have been what you wanted?’
‘No.’
‘That’s what I thought. You’re too smart to fall for that crap.’ He glared at her again. ‘What I need now is someone who is strong, who can stay with me and fight beside me. And there isn’t anyone else other than you.’
Donna sighed. ‘I’m sterile, remember?’ she stated, feeling her cheeks heat up.
‘So?’ Barlow shrugged. ‘The three I’ve got already fight enough as it is. Wait till they have to figure out who’s going to succeed me.’
‘Donna,’ came a voice, ‘you’re a knight. Put him on your charger and take him away, would you? It’s probably the only way I’m ever going to get some rest.’
Donna stared down at him and found herself grinning foolishly. ‘Doctor! You’re all right!’
‘No, I’m not,’ he argued, with a slight smile on his lips. ‘I’m getting a terrible headache from all of this arguing. I don’t believe in marriage for the sake of expediency. But if you truly think you’ll be happy…’
She tried to glare at Barlow for bringing all this up, but couldn’t quite manage it.
‘I’ll not take no for an answer,’ Barlow said softly.
‘We’ll see, then,’ Donna replied, her voice equally low.
‘Thank you at least for turning the volume down,’ said the Doctor, wryly. ‘Now kindly go off somewhere and let me get some rest. I’m a sick man, you know.’ He closed his eyes.
Donna looked at Barlow, smiling, and wondered about the future.
Once Donna and Barlow had gone, the Doctor jumped out of bed. His recovery was almost complete – his healing trance had done the trick, of course. Thankfully, this time no over‐helpful medical technician had tried to help him recover.
It took him a couple of minutes to find his clothes and get dressed. He surveyed his ripped coat with a sigh. Well, he had others like It back in the TARDIS, but it wasn’t really the same thing. It was a shame to see it torn up like this. He slipped it on anyway, wincing only slightly from the pain in his shoulder.
He hopped out of the door, and marched down the corridor towards the exit. Thankfully, neither Donna nor Barlow was around. He didn’t want any more fuss, and he knew they’d insist. As it was, he’d spent far too long doing nothing while there was so much still to be done.
As he’d suspected, he was in the Tower. The Queen’s House, he realised. It amused him to be back here again but it was also helpful. He hurried out of the building and back to the Peace Officers’ rooms. The duty officer was that chap Spencer again. He looked surprised to see the Doctor.
‘Hello,’ the Doctor said cheerfully. ‘I’ll be off, soon. But I wondered if you’d managed to find that information I was after. A young girl named Samantha Jones?’
‘Oh, yes, right.’ Spencer started hunting on his desk. ‘I checked all the data banks.’ His face was grim. The Doctor wondered how many times he must have assumed that sorry face for the benefit of the broken‐hearted. ‘No positive match,’ he sighed. ’Not when we cross‐reffed against all the information you gave us on her. There’s no one here on our files. I’m sorry.’ He paused. ‘I really do think it unlikely she’s alive.’