Waiting {A Belle Series Ficlet}
This is a drabble prelude to the next oneshot I'm currently halfway through writing. It is rather sad.
It's from Donna's POV, and there's no dialogue.
Also, I used the term sweetheart for Donna to describe Ten. Because boyfriend just sounded stupid. =P
Last line is from the 23rd Psalm. I don't own it.
As always, I don't own Ten, Donna or Doctor Who. The BBC does. Please read and enjoy...
She sits in a chair beside the bed upon which her daughter lies unconscious. She takes the girl’s hand in hers, frowning at the cool limpness of it. With her other hand, she wipes away tears that fall despite her valiant effort to hold them back. She cannot cry here. Not in front of her child. Not now.
She feels a hand on her shoulder and knows it’s her sweetheart. Her mother and grandfather are also there, she sees them as they circle the end of the bed and seat themselves on the other side, not taking hold of her other hand, for the large reddish purple swelling there. Reaching up, with her free hand, she grasps the hand of her sweetheart, drawing strength from his touch. He bends to shift her, and she allows it, he lifts her, seats himself on the chair, and pulls her into his lap. She rests her head on his chest, not taking her eyes off her daughter, nor letting go of her hand. The room fills with the sound of a soft Gallifreyan song, hummed by her sweetheart.
First stage coma. That’s what the doctors had said the child was in. If it progressed to second stage, she’d die. Her Doctor had allowed some of the native doctors into the TARDIS lab to help him modify their anti toxin to be used on a human, but there was no certainty in the outcome. They would have to wait.
She shifts in her sweetheart’s lap. She thinks about the documents that had just been finalized. Her heart clenches as she wonders if the first time they formally used Isabelle Renee Noble-Smith, it would also be the last time. She shudders, feels her sweetheart grip her tighter to him, and tries to force those thoughts out of her head.
She wonders not for the first time, if there actually is a God, and if so she prays fervently for her daughter. She tries to optimistic. Knows she needs to be, not just for herself, but for her sweetheart, who’s lost so many people, including his first family, and for her mother and grandfather. Most of all for the child lying in the bed, that she loves more than life itself.
But deep in the recesses of her mind, words she last heard spoken when her father was laid to rest float up.
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want…
It's from Donna's POV, and there's no dialogue.
Also, I used the term sweetheart for Donna to describe Ten. Because boyfriend just sounded stupid. =P
Last line is from the 23rd Psalm. I don't own it.
As always, I don't own Ten, Donna or Doctor Who. The BBC does. Please read and enjoy...
She sits in a chair beside the bed upon which her daughter lies unconscious. She takes the girl’s hand in hers, frowning at the cool limpness of it. With her other hand, she wipes away tears that fall despite her valiant effort to hold them back. She cannot cry here. Not in front of her child. Not now.
She feels a hand on her shoulder and knows it’s her sweetheart. Her mother and grandfather are also there, she sees them as they circle the end of the bed and seat themselves on the other side, not taking hold of her other hand, for the large reddish purple swelling there. Reaching up, with her free hand, she grasps the hand of her sweetheart, drawing strength from his touch. He bends to shift her, and she allows it, he lifts her, seats himself on the chair, and pulls her into his lap. She rests her head on his chest, not taking her eyes off her daughter, nor letting go of her hand. The room fills with the sound of a soft Gallifreyan song, hummed by her sweetheart.
First stage coma. That’s what the doctors had said the child was in. If it progressed to second stage, she’d die. Her Doctor had allowed some of the native doctors into the TARDIS lab to help him modify their anti toxin to be used on a human, but there was no certainty in the outcome. They would have to wait.
She shifts in her sweetheart’s lap. She thinks about the documents that had just been finalized. Her heart clenches as she wonders if the first time they formally used Isabelle Renee Noble-Smith, it would also be the last time. She shudders, feels her sweetheart grip her tighter to him, and tries to force those thoughts out of her head.
She wonders not for the first time, if there actually is a God, and if so she prays fervently for her daughter. She tries to optimistic. Knows she needs to be, not just for herself, but for her sweetheart, who’s lost so many people, including his first family, and for her mother and grandfather. Most of all for the child lying in the bed, that she loves more than life itself.
But deep in the recesses of her mind, words she last heard spoken when her father was laid to rest float up.
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want…