Doctor Who: four drabbles
Four iPod Shuffle Drabbles
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: G
Characters: Donna, Sylvia, Donna/Ten, Eleven, Donna/Shaun
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of the BBC.
Author's Note: Many thanks to caz963 for looking at the first two; lumalit for the fourth, and bas_math_girl for the third and fourth.
Two are canon-compliant (i.e. just friendship), one is shippy, and the last one is 'interpret at will', I guess.
'Solsbury Hill' by Peter Gabriel
Donna
It’s days like these-when the coffee machine is broken and the printer’s only printing on one side of the page when she needs it on both and the woman in the next cubicle won’t stop with that simpering nasal laugh-that she wonders how she could ever have turned down that mad Martian’s offer to take her away from all this.
She thinks she must be madder than he is, that she’d rather this than all that, whizzing about in a spaceship and visiting strange new planets.
She wonders idly what he’s doing, right now, while she’s waiting in queue for the photocopier.
If he ever comes back, she’s not going to let that chance slip away again.
She steps forward, flicking her hair over her shoulder with new resolve. It’s her turn for the copier.
'The Airway' by Owl City
Donna
The stars are bright tonight. Her grandfather had given her some technical reason for it that she’d only half listened to and hadn't really understood anyway. Then he’d gone back inside for some more coffee.
She studies the pinpoints of light against the dark sky, looking in between them for something she knows won’t be there. But she keeps hoping.
She’ll never be happy here. She knows she won’t. Going day to day, pretending work and telly and the odd night out down the pub with the girls is enough. How could it be?
She sighs, leaning back against the blanket. Just stars.
Maybe tomorrow night.
'They Weren't There' by Missy Higgins
Sylvia, Donna/Ten
“I don’t care, Mum.”
And it’s not the words that stop Sylvia dead. It’s the way that she says it.
Quietly.
She’s heard those words a hundred thousand times from Donna’s lips over the last thirty years. But never without anger and indignation. Never without shouting.
“It’s my life.”
No fierceness, no bristling.
“And I love him.”
No challenge. Just calm and absolute finality.
Warm tears prickle Sylvia’s eyes and a smile twitches her mouth.
She reaches across the kitchen table, gripping her daughter’s hand beneath her own. “I’m proud of you, Sweetheart.”
'Gates of the Country' by Black Lab
Eleven, Donna/Shaun
He comes to see her, a few months after the wedding. A few months in her timeline, a year in his.
Just wants to be sure she’s happy.
She’s bought a vast estate in a quiet countryside, with horses and sheep and everything she’s ever wanted but could never afford.
It was a small thing to do for her. The least the universe owed to the woman who saved it and will never know.
He doesn’t approach her, though it doesn’t matter. He could. She wouldn’t recognise him now anyway.
What would he say to her?
He mills about the grounds, watching her sip tea with her husband. Watching her smile. Watching her laugh in the brilliant sunshine, fire caught in her gorgeous ginger hair.
She’s better off without him.
It doesn’t dull the ache.
He returns to the TARDIS, stepping back into the empty ship. Slips the perception filter back into his pocket.
At least she’s happy. At least she’s safe.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: G
Characters: Donna, Sylvia, Donna/Ten, Eleven, Donna/Shaun
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of the BBC.
Author's Note: Many thanks to caz963 for looking at the first two; lumalit for the fourth, and bas_math_girl for the third and fourth.
Two are canon-compliant (i.e. just friendship), one is shippy, and the last one is 'interpret at will', I guess.
'Solsbury Hill' by Peter Gabriel
Donna
It’s days like these-when the coffee machine is broken and the printer’s only printing on one side of the page when she needs it on both and the woman in the next cubicle won’t stop with that simpering nasal laugh-that she wonders how she could ever have turned down that mad Martian’s offer to take her away from all this.
She thinks she must be madder than he is, that she’d rather this than all that, whizzing about in a spaceship and visiting strange new planets.
She wonders idly what he’s doing, right now, while she’s waiting in queue for the photocopier.
If he ever comes back, she’s not going to let that chance slip away again.
She steps forward, flicking her hair over her shoulder with new resolve. It’s her turn for the copier.
'The Airway' by Owl City
Donna
The stars are bright tonight. Her grandfather had given her some technical reason for it that she’d only half listened to and hadn't really understood anyway. Then he’d gone back inside for some more coffee.
She studies the pinpoints of light against the dark sky, looking in between them for something she knows won’t be there. But she keeps hoping.
She’ll never be happy here. She knows she won’t. Going day to day, pretending work and telly and the odd night out down the pub with the girls is enough. How could it be?
She sighs, leaning back against the blanket. Just stars.
Maybe tomorrow night.
'They Weren't There' by Missy Higgins
Sylvia, Donna/Ten
“I don’t care, Mum.”
And it’s not the words that stop Sylvia dead. It’s the way that she says it.
Quietly.
She’s heard those words a hundred thousand times from Donna’s lips over the last thirty years. But never without anger and indignation. Never without shouting.
“It’s my life.”
No fierceness, no bristling.
“And I love him.”
No challenge. Just calm and absolute finality.
Warm tears prickle Sylvia’s eyes and a smile twitches her mouth.
She reaches across the kitchen table, gripping her daughter’s hand beneath her own. “I’m proud of you, Sweetheart.”
'Gates of the Country' by Black Lab
Eleven, Donna/Shaun
He comes to see her, a few months after the wedding. A few months in her timeline, a year in his.
Just wants to be sure she’s happy.
She’s bought a vast estate in a quiet countryside, with horses and sheep and everything she’s ever wanted but could never afford.
It was a small thing to do for her. The least the universe owed to the woman who saved it and will never know.
He doesn’t approach her, though it doesn’t matter. He could. She wouldn’t recognise him now anyway.
What would he say to her?
He mills about the grounds, watching her sip tea with her husband. Watching her smile. Watching her laugh in the brilliant sunshine, fire caught in her gorgeous ginger hair.
She’s better off without him.
It doesn’t dull the ache.
He returns to the TARDIS, stepping back into the empty ship. Slips the perception filter back into his pocket.
At least she’s happy. At least she’s safe.