Fic: Mum's the Word
Title: Mum’s the Word
Rating: PG
Genre: hurt/comfort
Words: 1640
Characters: Donna, Sylvia, mentions of Ten
Warning/Spoilers: Takes place in between Journey’s End and End of Time, contains mentions of alcohol
Summary: Sylvia has a little talk with Donna.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the series from whence they hail.
A/N: I bought and finished Beautiful Chaos some time ago, and the interaction between Sylvia and Donna pulled me to write this.
A/N2: This was supposed to be for Mother’s Day. LOLWOOPS. Happy super freaking late Mother's Day, guys.
Sylvia Noble sat alone in the kitchen with a mug of tea. Not one sip had been taken, and it was getting cold. At this very time, she would be wondering where Donna was, wondering if she’d ever get used to her not being there. Now, she wondered how it had all gone so wrong, and whether she would get used to Donna actually being here instead.
Donna had gotten drunk again the night before. It was of the norm, Sylvia supposed. She used to do it all the time behind her back in her rebellious teen years, and a little more in her twenties. She promised to stop, and she did. Then Geoff died. And again Donna found herself at the mercy of her mother, where Sylvia had the choice of either letting Donna crawl across the house to her bed to punish her for breaking her word, or taking her heartbroken daughter by the arms and helping her drag to her room, tucking her into bed, wiping off the smeared make up off her face. She did the latter, but she was also Sylvia Noble, so guilt tripping scolds had come with it. Oh, but if she could have, she would have lifted Donna into her arms and carried her up instead, singing her to sleep. But they were far too old for that by a good 30 or so years, and her father was always so much better at it than she was anyways.
This time Donna drank, but this time it wasn’t for grief, or for fun, or a reason known to Donna. Anger would’ve been a good keyword, though.
“Where have you been? Tell me you haven’t-Donna!” Sylvia had scolded as Donna, distraught and delirious, entered the room, barely able to walk in her heels and with her purse dangling from her weak fingers.
“What’s it to ya?” Donna slurred as she faced her mother, whose hands were twitching at her sides. “You don’t care. You never care.”
Sylvia stood still as Donna flung her purse on the floor and walked wobbly as she approached her with an accusing finger.
“Issal just about, you, you, you, you, you!” she’d said, jabbing her finger in the air, each time tapping at a crack in Sylvia’s heart that just kept getting worse.
Nonetheless she played the cold hard mother and threatened no mercy if Donna did it again. It was the first time in a very long while that she had gotten so cross with her, so Donna took on that promise with no protests.
She didn’t want to believe it but Wilf was right. Donna was better with the Doctor.
She was ready to hate him with everything she had for doing this to her, to her family-but she saw the look in his eyes as he explained to her and Wilf what had happened. He was trying so hard to keep it together. And she recognized that look. She saw it in the mirror every morning days and days after Geoff had left them.
Then she realized he loved her daughter. He loved her so much and he was so, so sorry.
It didn’t stop her from being a tiny bit bitter, though. Things were just so unfair to the Noble house.
Sylvia barely realized that the cup in her hands had lost all its warmth. She still didn’t feel like drinking it, but she took a distasteful sip anyway before laying it in the sink.
2 AM. Great.
She turned off the lights and quietly stepped into the hall. She heard something in Donna’s room, something like sniffling, and immediately she made her way to her door. Opening it slightly, she peered her head in to find Donna lying on her bed, her purple blankets wrapped around her body as if that was all she had. She was facing the wall away from the door until she lifted her head to see her mother.
“What,” she said irately in a quiet, rather raspy voice. Her eyes were glossy in the dark.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” Sylvia asked, as if she were asking a ten year old on a school night.
Donna turned away, head back on her pillow and facing the wall. “Just because.”
Sylvia sighed as she stepped in, closing the door gently and taking a seat at the edge of her bed. Donna gave a groan.
“If you’re looking to scold and lecture me some more about last night, I’d rather much hear it when the sun’s fully up. I’m not in the mood.”
“I wasn’t in the mood to have my only daughter do this to me and your granddad again, but that didn’t stop you, did it.”
Donna grumbled something inaudible, then sniffed, her nose sounding clogged.
“Have you been crying?”
“No,” Donna nasally replied, followed by a hiccup. “I’m fine. Just leave me be, mum.”
“I don’t know why you still try to lie to me, so awfully too,” Sylvia said gently. “What are you, seven years old?”
Donna turned to lie on her back to face her mother with shiny eyes and glossy nostrils. “I really wish I was.”
“Oh, look at you.” Sylvia swiped a tissue from the box at Donna’s bedside table, told Donna to sit up properly so she could wipe away all the gunk from her face. She pinched her nose with the tissue. “Blow.”
Donna gave a rough, snotty noise as she blew into it.
“Guh,” she groaned, still hopelessly nasal. Sylvia looked at her intently, almost sadly.
“Mum,” Donna called to her quietly, “could you stay a while?”
I wish you’d just choose. Leave me alone, no wait, don’t go, stay, nevermind, go away, hold on, I didn’t mean it.
“Alright,” Sylvia said with a sigh, sitting where Donna scooted for her against the headboard. “But don’t expect me to fall asleep here though, because you aren’t really seven.”
“Suits me, your morning breath is something I could live without anyway,” Donna muttered.
“Least mine doesn’t smell of booze,” Sylvia found herself retorting. “Sorry. Habits as your mother.”
Donna harrumphed and slid down to put her head back down to her pillow. “Habits as your daughter, too, I guess.”
Sylvia brushed away Donna’s growing bangs away from her eyes. “When have you last cut these things? You need to hide your forehead a bit, it’s practically a billboard.”
“Oi.”
She put her arm around Donna’s head, playing with a lock of red hair that looked like maroon in this dark, and Donna leaned into it.
“I miss dad,” Donna said above a whisper.
“I know,” Sylvia sympathized softly, “I do, too.”
There was something about the way her mum was treating her at this moment. She doesn’t recall her being like this ever. But there seems to be some feeling, some distant memory…
She didn’t know what it was, but when Sylvia cleared away more hair from her face, fixed her pyjama collar, and dabbed a clean tissue on her now watering eyes, Donna couldn’t help but to wonder why she had to wait 30plus years to ask for her mum to just stay.
“So how’s that Shaun bloke you’re seeing?” Sylvia attempted to change the subject. “It’s not him you’re sobbing over, is it? What, will I have to have a word with him?”
“Oh, God forbid! No, ‘s not about him.”
“Good.” The last thing Sylvia needed was another man who made her daughter unhappy. “So why the sniffles?”
“Honestly,” Donna sighed and continued to whisper, “I have no idea. I think I’m going insane sometimes. Like I don’t know something but I should. There’s another person inside my head, mum. You know some good psychiatrists, don’t you?”
“Why do you think I would know one? Are you insinuating something?”
Donna showed the faintest smile. “I’m teasing. But I’m serious about feeling like I should be sporting a strait jacket or something.”
“Now come on,” Sylvia said with concern, “don’t be thinking about that. You’re not insane. You’re just…”
“Your offspring?”
“Yeah.” Best leave it at that, rather than say “no, you’ve just been memory-wiped by your best friend after travelling time and space with him and now you can’t ever remember a thing or else your brain will catch on fire and you’ll die and I’ll be alone with your withering granddad.”
Donna smiled, eyes starting to sting from not sleeping. “That’s comforting.”
“Now don’t you get sarcastic with me, young lady.”
Donna merely gave an indifferent mutter in response.
A brief silence passed between them.
“I’m sorry,” Donna said. “I was wrong.”
“You bet on your life you were,” Sylvia said with her usual coldness. But Donna could see, even in the dark, that there was that shining film over her mother’s eyes. And it said everything. It showed her just how wrong she was, to say that her ol’ mum never did care.
And Donna couldn’t stop crying.
“Now, don’t you start again,” warned Sylvia, her own tears threatening to shed. She brushed her fingers over Donna’s face, sweeping the wet away.
“Oh, god.” Donna’s voice was high pitched and choked as she turned on her side facing Sylvia, hiding her messy visage with her hands. “I’m a bloody mess. Sorry.”
Sylvia said nothing more but gathered Donna in her arms and gave her a hug that both she and Donna really, really needed. She closed her eyes as she rested her cheek on Donna’s head, listening to her slowly calm down.
“Now go back to sleep,” Sylvia said gently, slowly easing away from Donna. Donna nodded, wiping off the tear stains with her sleeves.
She sniffled. “Thanks.”
Sylvia stood to make her way to the door. “This never happened.”
Donna sighed and rolled her eyes. Of course.
“Yeah,” she agreed, then added softly, “Mum’s the word.”
Rating: PG
Genre: hurt/comfort
Words: 1640
Characters: Donna, Sylvia, mentions of Ten
Warning/Spoilers: Takes place in between Journey’s End and End of Time, contains mentions of alcohol
Summary: Sylvia has a little talk with Donna.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the series from whence they hail.
A/N: I bought and finished Beautiful Chaos some time ago, and the interaction between Sylvia and Donna pulled me to write this.
A/N2: This was supposed to be for Mother’s Day. LOLWOOPS. Happy super freaking late Mother's Day, guys.
Sylvia Noble sat alone in the kitchen with a mug of tea. Not one sip had been taken, and it was getting cold. At this very time, she would be wondering where Donna was, wondering if she’d ever get used to her not being there. Now, she wondered how it had all gone so wrong, and whether she would get used to Donna actually being here instead.
Donna had gotten drunk again the night before. It was of the norm, Sylvia supposed. She used to do it all the time behind her back in her rebellious teen years, and a little more in her twenties. She promised to stop, and she did. Then Geoff died. And again Donna found herself at the mercy of her mother, where Sylvia had the choice of either letting Donna crawl across the house to her bed to punish her for breaking her word, or taking her heartbroken daughter by the arms and helping her drag to her room, tucking her into bed, wiping off the smeared make up off her face. She did the latter, but she was also Sylvia Noble, so guilt tripping scolds had come with it. Oh, but if she could have, she would have lifted Donna into her arms and carried her up instead, singing her to sleep. But they were far too old for that by a good 30 or so years, and her father was always so much better at it than she was anyways.
This time Donna drank, but this time it wasn’t for grief, or for fun, or a reason known to Donna. Anger would’ve been a good keyword, though.
“Where have you been? Tell me you haven’t-Donna!” Sylvia had scolded as Donna, distraught and delirious, entered the room, barely able to walk in her heels and with her purse dangling from her weak fingers.
“What’s it to ya?” Donna slurred as she faced her mother, whose hands were twitching at her sides. “You don’t care. You never care.”
Sylvia stood still as Donna flung her purse on the floor and walked wobbly as she approached her with an accusing finger.
“Issal just about, you, you, you, you, you!” she’d said, jabbing her finger in the air, each time tapping at a crack in Sylvia’s heart that just kept getting worse.
Nonetheless she played the cold hard mother and threatened no mercy if Donna did it again. It was the first time in a very long while that she had gotten so cross with her, so Donna took on that promise with no protests.
She didn’t want to believe it but Wilf was right. Donna was better with the Doctor.
She was ready to hate him with everything she had for doing this to her, to her family-but she saw the look in his eyes as he explained to her and Wilf what had happened. He was trying so hard to keep it together. And she recognized that look. She saw it in the mirror every morning days and days after Geoff had left them.
Then she realized he loved her daughter. He loved her so much and he was so, so sorry.
It didn’t stop her from being a tiny bit bitter, though. Things were just so unfair to the Noble house.
Sylvia barely realized that the cup in her hands had lost all its warmth. She still didn’t feel like drinking it, but she took a distasteful sip anyway before laying it in the sink.
2 AM. Great.
She turned off the lights and quietly stepped into the hall. She heard something in Donna’s room, something like sniffling, and immediately she made her way to her door. Opening it slightly, she peered her head in to find Donna lying on her bed, her purple blankets wrapped around her body as if that was all she had. She was facing the wall away from the door until she lifted her head to see her mother.
“What,” she said irately in a quiet, rather raspy voice. Her eyes were glossy in the dark.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” Sylvia asked, as if she were asking a ten year old on a school night.
Donna turned away, head back on her pillow and facing the wall. “Just because.”
Sylvia sighed as she stepped in, closing the door gently and taking a seat at the edge of her bed. Donna gave a groan.
“If you’re looking to scold and lecture me some more about last night, I’d rather much hear it when the sun’s fully up. I’m not in the mood.”
“I wasn’t in the mood to have my only daughter do this to me and your granddad again, but that didn’t stop you, did it.”
Donna grumbled something inaudible, then sniffed, her nose sounding clogged.
“Have you been crying?”
“No,” Donna nasally replied, followed by a hiccup. “I’m fine. Just leave me be, mum.”
“I don’t know why you still try to lie to me, so awfully too,” Sylvia said gently. “What are you, seven years old?”
Donna turned to lie on her back to face her mother with shiny eyes and glossy nostrils. “I really wish I was.”
“Oh, look at you.” Sylvia swiped a tissue from the box at Donna’s bedside table, told Donna to sit up properly so she could wipe away all the gunk from her face. She pinched her nose with the tissue. “Blow.”
Donna gave a rough, snotty noise as she blew into it.
“Guh,” she groaned, still hopelessly nasal. Sylvia looked at her intently, almost sadly.
“Mum,” Donna called to her quietly, “could you stay a while?”
I wish you’d just choose. Leave me alone, no wait, don’t go, stay, nevermind, go away, hold on, I didn’t mean it.
“Alright,” Sylvia said with a sigh, sitting where Donna scooted for her against the headboard. “But don’t expect me to fall asleep here though, because you aren’t really seven.”
“Suits me, your morning breath is something I could live without anyway,” Donna muttered.
“Least mine doesn’t smell of booze,” Sylvia found herself retorting. “Sorry. Habits as your mother.”
Donna harrumphed and slid down to put her head back down to her pillow. “Habits as your daughter, too, I guess.”
Sylvia brushed away Donna’s growing bangs away from her eyes. “When have you last cut these things? You need to hide your forehead a bit, it’s practically a billboard.”
“Oi.”
She put her arm around Donna’s head, playing with a lock of red hair that looked like maroon in this dark, and Donna leaned into it.
“I miss dad,” Donna said above a whisper.
“I know,” Sylvia sympathized softly, “I do, too.”
There was something about the way her mum was treating her at this moment. She doesn’t recall her being like this ever. But there seems to be some feeling, some distant memory…
She didn’t know what it was, but when Sylvia cleared away more hair from her face, fixed her pyjama collar, and dabbed a clean tissue on her now watering eyes, Donna couldn’t help but to wonder why she had to wait 30plus years to ask for her mum to just stay.
“So how’s that Shaun bloke you’re seeing?” Sylvia attempted to change the subject. “It’s not him you’re sobbing over, is it? What, will I have to have a word with him?”
“Oh, God forbid! No, ‘s not about him.”
“Good.” The last thing Sylvia needed was another man who made her daughter unhappy. “So why the sniffles?”
“Honestly,” Donna sighed and continued to whisper, “I have no idea. I think I’m going insane sometimes. Like I don’t know something but I should. There’s another person inside my head, mum. You know some good psychiatrists, don’t you?”
“Why do you think I would know one? Are you insinuating something?”
Donna showed the faintest smile. “I’m teasing. But I’m serious about feeling like I should be sporting a strait jacket or something.”
“Now come on,” Sylvia said with concern, “don’t be thinking about that. You’re not insane. You’re just…”
“Your offspring?”
“Yeah.” Best leave it at that, rather than say “no, you’ve just been memory-wiped by your best friend after travelling time and space with him and now you can’t ever remember a thing or else your brain will catch on fire and you’ll die and I’ll be alone with your withering granddad.”
Donna smiled, eyes starting to sting from not sleeping. “That’s comforting.”
“Now don’t you get sarcastic with me, young lady.”
Donna merely gave an indifferent mutter in response.
A brief silence passed between them.
“I’m sorry,” Donna said. “I was wrong.”
“You bet on your life you were,” Sylvia said with her usual coldness. But Donna could see, even in the dark, that there was that shining film over her mother’s eyes. And it said everything. It showed her just how wrong she was, to say that her ol’ mum never did care.
And Donna couldn’t stop crying.
“Now, don’t you start again,” warned Sylvia, her own tears threatening to shed. She brushed her fingers over Donna’s face, sweeping the wet away.
“Oh, god.” Donna’s voice was high pitched and choked as she turned on her side facing Sylvia, hiding her messy visage with her hands. “I’m a bloody mess. Sorry.”
Sylvia said nothing more but gathered Donna in her arms and gave her a hug that both she and Donna really, really needed. She closed her eyes as she rested her cheek on Donna’s head, listening to her slowly calm down.
“Now go back to sleep,” Sylvia said gently, slowly easing away from Donna. Donna nodded, wiping off the tear stains with her sleeves.
She sniffled. “Thanks.”
Sylvia stood to make her way to the door. “This never happened.”
Donna sighed and rolled her eyes. Of course.
“Yeah,” she agreed, then added softly, “Mum’s the word.”