Warning: Contains mild swear words from the outset; and it assumes you know what the character Peter Vincent from Fright Night looks like. Beyond that, you don't have to have seen the film to follow this story.

Summary: This is a alternative sequel to a story I wrote called "Doctor In Cloverfield" [You'll find it on fanfiction at: .net/s/7696579/1/Doctor_In_Cloverfield]. Basically, Donna happened to meet Peter Vincent in Las Vegas during the year she was looking for the Doctor. Peter then found the Doctor lurking and became suspicious of Donna's motives for being friendly when they went alien hunting. He and Donna had an argument and Peter stormed off, leaving her in the middle of nowhere.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything beyond a couple of DVDs.

A/N: Okay, I should immediately apologise to regular readers that this is a sequel to a story I have cautiously posted on FFN because (a) of the language, since it involves Peter Vincent from Fright Night, and (b) the story has too many *coughs* sex scenes before this. If I edited them out there'd be hardly anything left. So I hope you won't be offended if you read all the three preceding crossover fics. You can find "Peter's Little Fright in the Night", and "Desperately Seeking the Doctor" via my profile.


The Peter-less Plan

Previously in "Doctor In Cloverfield":

"This!" Peter declared, pointing at his face. "I look exactly the same as him, and you knew it!"

She gasped in surprise; because he had found out, and because that also meant that… "Where is he? Tell me where he is!" she implored him. "Please, Peter!"

"No!" he yelled, and raised his hand as though he was going to strike her. They panted at each other in shock and horror, and then she was running for the door. "NO!" he screamed, grasping desperately for her hand. "Please, Donna! Please!"

She fought him off. "I've got to find him. Get off me!"

He rugby tackled her to the floor. "No, Donna. He said it's the wrong time," he insisted more quietly but with the same amount of vehemence.

She slapped him hard. "I hate you!" she spluttered out and raced for the bathroom in tears.

"Join the f**king club," he replied to himself.

When she emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, Peter had gone.


Part 1

.

Donna emerged from the motel bathroom to find the room was empty. Surely Peter wouldn't abandon her in the middle of nowhere, would he? In desperation, she made for the door and thrust it open. The parking lot was completely empty; he'd gone.

The b*st*rd! The utter b*st*rd!

She stood on the wooden veranda and yelled as loudly as she possibly could. She screamed, stamped her feet, hit the door frame; did anything to release her rage from wanting to kill Peter Vincent!

Thank God she knew there was a diner just down the road. Somebody passing through there might be able to give her a lift into the city, or at least point her in the right direction. As for that jealous wanker Peter Vincent: he could burn in hell…


Donna felt like utter crap. Not exactly unusual when you're heartbroken because some bloke in skinny jeans dumps you in the middle of nowhere after you've had some truly spectacular sex. It wasn't just the sex, if she was honest, but the fact she had grown to quite like Peter despite her better judgement.

Judgement! Who was she kidding? It was Lance all over again; some bloke is nice to her for five seconds and she's pledging her life to him. Well, this was the last time anyone got away with that line! Donna Noble was fine without all that.

Except she wasn't; she felt sick! As soon as she thought it, she had to race to the bathroom and throw up. Fortunately she felt instantly better, so it was probably one of those twenty-four hour tummy bugs that went around every so often. And all the stress of crying secretly in her room wasn't doing her any good. Her period was late for a start. Peter Vincent had a lot to answer for… well, he would if she'd actually talk to him and listen to the lies he wanted to tell her.

Sixteen text messages he had sent her; the cheek! And numerous voice messages were in her voice mail. She had ceremoniously deleted every single one of them without giving him the satisfaction of hearing one word. Not one. Although she would have had to listen to every other word, since the bloke's vocabulary was seriously stunted by his need to punctuate his speech with swear words. She had several happy moments imagining trying to curb his swearing by applying a well-placed cattle prod!

That would teach him to abandon her like that, for smiling seductively, for having such sexy eyes, for being long and lean, and a fantastic lover once she slowed him down, so that she screamed out almost as much as he had done… Damn Peter Vincent and his gorgeous body! Why did he have to spoil it like that?

If he hadn't been so bloody jealous of her searching for the Doctor they could have been something special. Why did she care so much? And why couldn't she stop crying? He was just a bloke after all, and she would beat this feeling; eventually.

It would serve Peter right if she were to go out this minute and find the Doctor. Hah! She'd show him that she didn't need a man in her life. Once she finished sobbing on her bed…

Wilf tapped on Donna's bedroom door. "Donna, love? Are you coming down for a bite to eat?" he called out hopefully.

Donna opened her door a smidge to peep out at him. "No thanks, Gramps. I'm not hungry. Tell Mum I'll do myself something later," she said, trying to pacify him enough to leave her alone.

He really was worried about her. Donna looked so gaunt and world-weary since she came back from the States. It was supposed to be a happy little holiday, with a bit of alien hunting on the side. One minute she was phoning up in high spirits because she had made a friend called Peter who was helping her, then she rang again to say how great he was for rescuing her, and then she had phoned in tears, calling him all the names under the sun. Why she should be upset because he had sent flowers to her room and had tried to contact her numerous times since she got home was beyond Wilf; but he was sure she had her reasons. Sylvia had no idea either, though she had plenty of theories where Donna had gone wrong with the bloke.

"What's the matter with you, Donna? Throwing away a decent man like that!" Sylvia had demanded from her soon after Donna had got home from Las Vegas, and the desperate phone calls had started from Peter. "Talk to him; that's all I ask. Give him a chance."

"No, Mum! You don't understand. I'm finished with him and his petty jealousy. He swanned off and left me to get back to Vegas on my own. Nobody treats me like that," she had replied defiantly.

Sylvia had huffed a loud sigh. "Just don't go telling me you regret it later on; that's all I ask," she had said, realising she had lost the argument. Donna was right; no one should treat her like that, and if Peter Vincent ever turned up on her doorstep she'd wipe the floor clean with him.


It had finally happened! She was officially sitting in the TARDIS and loving it. In fact, Donna wanted to squeal with happiness! Everything in her room was just perfect, from the décor to the bed she was testing out.

The Doctor peeked in through her open bedroom door. "Everything alright, Donna?" he queried.

She almost bounced off her bed to answer him. "Oh yes! Everything is perfect. Look! I've got a large wardrobe, a dressing table, loads of books, and… get this... an en suite," she enthused, pointing out every single item to him.

"Yes, I can see," he replied, trying to contain his own enthusiasm. "Do you want to have the grand tour of the place?"

"Yes please!" she instantly answered with glee; and the pair of them happily walked around the TARDIS for the rest of the evening.


The following morning Donna was feeling decidedly queasy; there was no other way to describe it. Oh heck! She thought she had left this feeling behind when she had come on board. Perhaps a decent breakfast would be the cure? Yes, she was sure it would be; so she kept her dodgy stomach to herself and went in search of the Doctor.

The queasiness didn't go away, but she had plenty to distract her as they raced through the hot and steamy streets of ancient Pompeii. Funny how being trapped in a pod within an exploding volcano can totally focus your mind on to something else…

It was only later as she was sat on the pilot seat of the TARDIS console room that her stomach reminded her that it was still carrying out its silent protest about her lifestyle. She held her stomach as though the action would stop it from making itself known.

"Are you okay, Donna?" the Doctor asked her with deep concern. "You don't look very well."

"I must have eaten something in Pompeii that didn't agree with me," she told him, giving her tummy a sympathetic rub. "It'll soon pass."

"Yes," he replied, drawing out the syllable as he thoughtfully considered her. "Is there something you're not telling me? You haven't looked well since you came back."

"I'm fine!" she forced herself to say breezily. "It's just a little tummy bug. I'm susceptible to them. I never used to be, but I've had one bout after another since I got from America."

"You went to America? Why did you go there?" he asked with sudden curiosity.

She waved her hand dismissively. "I went alien hunting. I told you; I was investigating anything that looked remotely dodgy in order to find you," she said, turning her head to hide her blush. She didn't want him to get too big a head by knowing how much she had sought him out.

"I think we ought to take you down to the med bay in order to give you a once over just in case; especially if you've developed a weak stomach," he told her. "I'll no doubt have just the thing to get you all chipper again."

"Alright," she reluctantly agreed. "We can't have me chucking up all over your trousers if we have another day like today."

"It would be unpleasant even if we don't have a day like today," he pointed out with a grin. Holding out a hand towards her, he enticed her with, "Come on, Donna Noble. Let's go and fight this stomach bug of yours. We'll soon have it on the run."

Donna laughed at him. "Thank goodness I don't have the runs! Being sick is bad enough."

"You've actually been sick?" He turned his concerned little face towards her. "You never said that."

"I thought I didn't have to," she retorted. "Too much detail and all that."

"Nothing you can say will be too much detail," he said, trying to reassure her in friendly tones, as they reached the med bay. "Pop up on the table, will you."

"I'll do my impression of a piece of toast, and pop up there," she replied, trying to make light of her nervousness. What if he found something horrible like a tumour? What if it was a stomach ulcer? He might take her straight back home. What if he found nothing at all, and thought she was totally making it up? So many things to worry about!

The Doctor bustled about, uttering little words of comfort, as he took her blood pressure, monitored her heart rate, took a blood sample, waved a weird fancy gadget at her that he claimed took harmless scans; and generally mumbled to himself as he wrote things down. Finally he frowned at her and said, "Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

She considered his demeanour and answered, "Give me the good news first and we'll work our way up to the bad."

"Okay," he said, and then sighed before continuing, "I can tell you that you have no sign of any cancer or ulcer; I know you were secretly worried about that. But the bad news is, Donna, that you are pregnant."

"You what?" she exclaimed. "Pregnant!" Her mind raced to work out how the hell she could be pregnant and how long she could have been so.

"I'm afraid so. Judging by this result you are at least ten weeks pregnant. What do you want me to do about it?" he asked softly.

"Do?" she asked him in shocked confusion. "Like what?"

"Do you want me to help you get rid of it?" he reworded his question.

"An abortion? Oh no! No, I can't do that. I could never do that," Donna quickly replied, holding her stomach protectively. "Does this mean I can't stay with you?"

He reached out to hold both her hands. "Oh Donna; I would never do that to you. You are free to stay here as long as you want. I like having you here," he told her, beaming his friendliest smile.

Donna leant forward and planted a huge grateful kiss on his cheek. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" she gushed, letting soft wisps of her breath fly across his cheek.

The Doctor blushed. For some reason her gratitude and act had caused something unexpected within him; making him feel extremely protective towards her. "That's okay, Donna. Just remember to let me know if there are any problems in the future, eh? For now, I have something that will help with your morning sickness," he stammered out, and then sought through a drawer to find her the tablets he had mentioned. "There you go! One hundred per cent guaranteed to obliterate morning sickness safely."

"Be careful," she warned him, taking the bottle of tablets from him. "I may be declaring my love again for you at this rate." She added in a little wink, and he felt something do a flip in his stomach.


'Seen one dungeon, seen them all,' Donna thought as she waited patiently for the Doctor to appear. Eventually he did, after being frogmarched down a dark and dingy corridor and then thrown into the same cell as her.

"Donna! Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Is the baby alright?" he asked anxiously, running his hands expertly over her body. His hands ended up resting on her stomach, and his nervous expression turned to that of relief. "Ah! Safe and sound still."

"You can stop feeling me up now, Sunshine!" Donna huffed out at him, clearly embarrassed at his show of concern in front of the other prisoners in the cell. She then spoilt the effect by swaying on the spot; but the Doctor caught her deftly.

He quickly pulled her closer, into his protective embrace. "Don't worry, Donna, I've got you," he crooned into her hair. "We'll soon be out of this dank, musty place and in the sunlight."

She lifted up her chin to gaze into his eyes. "Are you sure?" she whispered in disbelief. "They seem awfully keen to keep us here."

He reassured her with a kiss on the forehead. "I'm sure. Our protest has been formally lodged, so it's just a matter of paperwork now," he murmured back.

For some reason the other prisoners were eyeing them suspiciously, so the Doctor turned their bodies so that Donna didn't have to look at them. There was no way he'd release his hold on her; it had taken him hours to find out where the Sylranians had taken her. Fortunately they had soon changed their tune about imprisoning them when he had pointed out the problems of holding a pregnant woman in such a place. In fact they had strangely changed their tune, now that he thought about it.

A guard appeared at the prison door at that moment, shouting out, "Prisoner known as the Doctor and his wife Donna!"

Donna went to deny the relationship, but the Doctor quickly shushed her and let them be led out, still keeping her firmly within his arms.

The mystery was solved once they got outside. They were greeted by a man who obviously held some sway, and a bunch of armed guards. "Doctor! I hear your wife is carrying a child within her body," the man started to explain.

Donna immediately stiffened within his grasp, and the Doctor held her even more protectively. "Yes. What business is that of yours, if I may ask?" the Doctor called out.

The man shook his head in mock misunderstanding, and exasperation. "We have long had problems conceiving naturally on this world, Doctor. We need to know how and why your wife conceived her child."

"They want to cut me up?" Donna asked in shock.

"No, Donna. I would never let them do that," the Doctor replied.

"I'm not sure that is your choice to make Doctor. Your wife is now the property of my medical laboratory," the man finished telling them.

"Property!" Donna cried out indignantly. "How dare you! I belong to no one, do you hear me? I am my own person!"

"Not helping, Donna," the Doctor snapped at her, pushing her behind him. "Look," he said to the man, "you are going about all this the wrong way. I can help you. I have the means to find out a solution for you all; but you do not need to take Donna."

The man gave a wry chuckle. "Oh I think we do. Guards! Take her!"

The Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver and pressed a setting, causing the guards to howl in surprise. Their weapons were vibrating within their hands, causing a high pitched whine and then the weapons increasingly became warm until they were too hot to hold on to anymore.

By the time the guards had recovered their wits, the Doctor and Donna had gone.


The Doctor assisted Donna to sit down on the pilot seat as they both panted heavily from their run into the TARDIS. "You need to go and lie down for a while," the Doctor instructed her. "I prescribe a good dose of tea and rest."

"Are you ordering me to go and make the tea, Sunshine?" she huffed.

He smiled indulgently back at her. "No, I'll make the tea and I'll bring it to you as you rest. Does that sound better?"

"Much better," Donna agreed. "I could get used to this idea of having a husband."

"Oi! Watch it!" he protested playfully. "Or I shall refer to you as my wife even more."

"You just try it, Spaceman," she playfully threatened in return. "Though I won't complain if you bring biscuits with the tea."

"You not complain? I'd like to see that!" he mocked her. "I'd better bring you some just to see it happen."

Donna eased herself up off the seat. "You'd better, or there'll be words," she teased him.

He took her arm, and guided her down the corridor towards her room. "Words, eh? Would they include the ones 'I', 'bloody', 'love' and 'you' by any chance?"

"Might do," she replied, smirking at him. "And then again, they might not."