Prompt: "think of David Tennant as a hill farmer" provided by hubby (one night when I claimed counting sheep wouldn't help me sleep)
Disclaimer: I sort of own the man that made me think of this; does that count?
A/N: it will soon become apparent that I know next to nothing about hill farming, so I'll stop the pretence right here.
A/N2: posted in order to wish serenityslady a very Happy Birthday!

In Another World

Part 1

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The farmhouse door slammed shut, and out marched a darkly brooding man tightly wrapped against the cooling elements as he trudged across the mud; his cap pulled tight over his head and his thoughts concentrated on his tasks for the day. To family he was known as "young John", to friends as "Dr John"; and to himself he was merely an idiot. He had a load of silage to deal with, and it was going to be a very long time until he saw his bed.

Sitting in the entrance to the farm yard stood his transport, a fairly modern tractor that had once been the envy of all their neighbours. That had been such a long time ago, back when he had contemplated staying at university to add to his degrees. Never mind. All gone now. That dream no longer existed. Sometimes it pained his heart to know that things could have been completely different, but it was foolish to go down that route.

Jez the sheepdog came running out of the farmhouse and gave John an accusing look as he stood awaiting instructions from his master; but the border collie wasn't needed that day, so he skulked off to investigate what the chickens were up to once he was dismissed.

Turning left off the main carriageway and away from the traffic, Donna found herself in the sudden solitude of Hanging Lane and breathed a sigh of relief. Evidently she was getting nearer to her new job. Gawd knows why she had been chosen to come up here to the middle of nowhere, but she had jumped at the chance to work in an atmosphere that was totally different to the one she normally resided, on the outskirts of London. As a townie she was suspicious of all this openness with its greenery, but she was sure she'd get used to it by the time her current stint as a secretary ended. Call it a working holiday, if you will.

With growing caution, she steered her small blue Peugeot down the narrow country lane, unable to see anything other than the casually dotted trees and enclosing hedgerows that surrounded the fields. There could be a whole amusement park on the other side of that woody growth for all she knew, or absolutely nothing at all except for grass. There was no way of knowing without actually climbing up and looking over the hedge.

Then suddenly there was a break in the hedge, showing a metal five bar gate guarding the entrance to a fairly desolate looking field of what could have been grass, carrot tops or anything else. Donna wasn't exactly up on that sort of knowledge. She smiled as she took the opportunity to peer into another world.

"You have reached your destination," the car satnav abruptly announced.

"You what?!" Donna exclaimed as she slowly stopped the car, and sought out the cottage from the address slip she'd been given. "Where is it? There's nothing here, you idiot!"

And indeed there wasn't any dwelling whatsoever to find on that stretch of road. All there was within sight was the continuing hedgerow growth and the fields either side of the lane.

"This can't be right," Donna muttered to no one in particular, and dived into the glove compartment in the vain hope she had remembered to leave a copy of a road atlas in there without realising it. Alas it was empty of anything so useful; unless you count a packet of tissues and three CDs as being particularly helpful when navigating a vehicle.

Having stopped the car, she became aware of the sound of another engine reasonably near. A farm type engine, to be precise. A relieved smile spread across her face. This meant there might be intelligent life nearby that could possibly tell her in which direction to go.

Carefully stepping out of the car, just in case there was some mud or muck she would need to negotiate, she stood up and turned her head about in order to work out where the engine noise was coming from. Luck had it that it was quite close and near the gate she had just passed. With a refined dash, well, as refined as you can be in heels, she ran towards the gate and the sound.

Bugger! She would have to climb it to see properly. Using a well-placed foot on the bottom rung of the gate, she pulled herself up and was delighted to see a blue tractor being driven by a man. With no particular plan in her head, she waved madly at him whilst shouting, "Excuse me! Can you help?"

John thought he was hallucinating when he saw what he thought at first was an angel sitting on his fence. A woman had appeared with beautiful flowing hair, and wearing a cream coloured woollen coat ensemble with matching knee high boots. A second glance showed that she was almost sitting astride the gate whilst waving desperately. Presumably the waving was intended for him.

It was hard to miss her long distinguishable hair; exquisite ginger hair. For some reason he had always had a 'thing' for ginger hair; and in her case it definitely helped as she tried to attract his attention. She was certainly putting a lot of effort into the waving.

Was she some passing posh weekender who thought he carried bottles of fresh milk on his person? It wouldn't have surprised him. Such people often assumed all sorts of things.

Aiming for nonchalance, he stopped to find out what she wanted. After slowing the tractor to a halt he changed his first dismissive impression and realised she not only looked more than pensive, she was also rather pretty. In fact he'd go as far as saying she was gorgeous. Today might be his lucky day.

She let out a breath of joy when he seemed to notice her and brought the tractor to a halt about ten feet away from where she still stood on the gate like one of the Railway Children; but without waving the red flannel knickers on a stick, obviously.

He put his head out of the cab window and called out, "What did you say?"

Typical, she thought. Men can never hear you when you need them to. With any luck Bob the Builder here would be able to fix it. "I said, 'can you help me?' I'm having a spot of bother!" she yelled when silence returned to the field.

Trouble? That instantly caught his attention once he'd wrestled his brain into action; and he wondered what sort of bother she was in. Probably a spot of car trouble with her engine, no doubt, like running out of petrol; or something as simple as being stuck in the mud. Except there wasn't any mud in that part of the lane to get stuck in…

"What sort of trouble?" he suavely wondered once he had climbed down out of the cab and he got close enough to properly see her in fine detail. The nearer he got the more he liked what he saw.

A piece of paper was hastily produced from her coat pocket and waved under his nose. "I'm looking for this address. Do you know it?"

He took the paper carefully from her outstretched fingers and read it, instantly recognising the name. "You want Lilac Cottage? You're not all that far from it. It's about a mile and a half away," he supplied, adding in a vague bit of fingering pointing.

"My satnav insisted I'd found my destination," Donna explained her actions. "Stupid thing!"

"Why did it do that?" he asked as he handed the piece of paper back to be hidden away in her pocket, having surreptitiously read her other details on there.

"I don't know, do I?" she whined, climbing back down to stand on the ground again. "If you think you know better, mate, you go deal with it and I'll stand there in your field doing my best to make you feel stupid."

It was all he could do to not throw a glare at her; he rather liked her impertinence. "Okay, if you insist," he retorted, and immediately opened the gate to walk though and follow her to the car. He could feel her eyes looking with disapproval at his wellie boots. "I won't get mud on your carpet. Promise." With that, he confidently trudged over to where her car still sat waiting patiently for her return.

"You'd better not," she snarled as he joined her by sitting on the front passenger seat, "otherwise you can clean it off."

Ignoring that threat, he took the liberty of switching her satnav system on. It sort of did nothing. They sat for an awkward minute as it waited to boot itself up, find satellites and then display her current position after she re-explained what had happened earlier and he listened good-naturedly with suppressed amusement. "Ah, there's your problem," he smugly noted, prodding the monitor. "You're in the wrong place."

"No kidding, Sherlock," she sarcastically commented. "I was there for that one. What I don't know is why. It was clear as day where I should go when it showed the whole journey before I set off."

A glance at her manicured hands solved that mystery. "It was your fingernail. You must have caught it on the screen and repositioned your destination by accident," he triumphantly declared. "It's easily done," he added when she looked crestfallen.

"Yeah, if you're a stupid cow," she self-deprecated, and averted her gaze.

His heart went out to her in sympathy. It was obvious that she often put herself down and he really didn't like that thought; not when it was someone as lovely and ginger as her. "You really aren't far away from Lilac Cottage. Carry on down this road and it's up on your right, near the village green." Clearing his throat, he inquired, "Are you visiting family?"

Donna chuckled and flashed him a warm smile; one that matched his own. He had quite nice soft brown eyes, she mentally noted, as distinguishing wrinkles appeared around them; followed by the thought, 'I wonder if he has got any hair under that cap.' Knowing her luck he'd have one of those horrible comb-overs bald men used to have.

"No, not family," she confessed. "I'm up here for a job and I'm really late now. I was supposed to be there by twelve."

"Blame me for keeping you talking, if you like," he magnanimously offered. Phew! There didn't seem to suggest there was any sign of a dependent child, or man… not that he was interested to know that snippet; much. "A job? Doing what, if you don't mind me asking?" he bashfully wondered.

"That's okay," she smiled. "I'm here to help Jocasta Newberry with her latest book. Do you know her?"

John shook his head. "Not personally. There are a lot of people I don't know in the village these days. What sort of book is it?"

"As long as it's not long and boring I don't care," she admitted as they still sat gazing at each other. "I'm Donna, by the way. Donna Noble." She stuck out a hand.

He took her offered hand and shook it with glee. "I'm John Smith. Nice to meet you, Donna." 'Such a soft warm hand,' he noted. And there was no wedding or engagement ring. "Perhaps we'll erm... We'll get to meet again soon."

"That would be nice," she agreed, and realised she was gawping at him. "I'd better let you get back to work. You've no doubt got more important things to deal with. I think your wife might take exception to you sitting in a strange woman's car."

"It was a pleasure," he gushed with sincerity in return. "And I don't have a wife or anything to get upset about me gaining a new friend; so if you ever feel like meeting me in the Red Lion for a welcoming drink, please feel free to." That was smooth, wasn't it? Surely he hadn't overplayed his hand, and made it ambiguous enough if she wasn't interested in taking this whatever-it-was between them a step further.

He wasn't married or anything! Donna mentally danced a victory dance. "That would be lovely, thank you. A proper village pub drink. There's only one thing I need to ask you now that I think about it."

"Oh?" he gasped, instantly worried what was coming next to dash his newly formed hopes.

Instead she did her best to smile brightly. "Where exactly is the Red Lion?"

The broadest grin she'd ever seen lit up his face. "It's right by the village green; you can't miss it when you look across from Lilac Cottage.

"Across the green," she confirmed by repeating to herself. "I'll see you around then, John."

"Until then, Donna," he cheerily bid her goodbye.