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moonyscribblesWARNING: SPOILERS FOR 4x13 "JOURNEY'S END"!!!
Wilfred Mott found it easy to be sad in the days since the Doctor had left. It didn’t matter that being with the Doctor had been dangerous and had taken her away from them. She had been better, smarter, happier when she was with him. She had been so much more alive.
Now? Well, now she was back to being the same person she’d been before she’d met the Doctor, back to the snobbish, stuck-up gossip monger who went from one temp job to the next, searching and unhappy.
Wilfred started as he heard the back door bang open, glad for the warning before his granddaughter started shouting for him to come in to tea. He had grown accustomed to the version of Donna that hadn’t shouted quite so loudly when it wasn’t necessary.
“I’m coming, Donna. No need to shout!” he called down the hill.
She’s become a ginger-headed version of her mother again. Where did we ever go wrong with that one…
He shook his head sadly as he packed up his thermos and blanket before returning to the house. Once inside his ears were assaulted by the sound of Donna chatting up a storm with someone on her mobile. From what he could hear of Donna’s side of the conversation, she was still swearing that the world was wrong about the day that the world had been stolen from orbit around the sun. Not even her mother, who was not given to flights of fancy, could convince her.
No, Donna would not be swayed. It didn’t help that Wilfred couldn’t tell her anything about the Doctor, about her own travels through space and time. She had been part of it all. Hers was the life that had been manipulated and twisted to suit the fancy of a galactic terrorist. She had been the one to save the universe.
She had also been the one to pay the highest price this time around, at least in her grandfather’s mind. She had grown so much, become so much better, learned so much. Then she’d lost it all.
Wilfred could have blamed the Doctor. The Doctor could have, should have, found a way to fix her, make her better again. But he hadn’t. He’d locked away the part of Donna that Wilfred missed the most.
But he also knew that playing the blame game would do nothing except make himself more bitter. So Wilfred did the best that he could to help recover the sensible and smart Donna while keeping the Doctor a secret from her. Gentle suggestions and subtle hints did nothing, though, for this thick-headed version of Donna.
Through their small meal, Wilfred stared across the room, lost in thought, while Donna prattled away about the office gossip at her new temporary job. She didn’t notice the looks shared between her mother and her grandfather, and she certainly didn’t notice the awkward silence when the topic turned to all of her crazy friends insisting that they’d seen twenty-six other planets in the sky.
“I told them, all of them, that they could wave as many photos of it in front of me as they wish. They were all probably pissed and seeing things.”
Wilfred was careful not to let Donna see any indication that he knew more than she did. And it killed him. A small part of him died every time he had to lie to her and pretend that he didn’t know any more than she did about that fateful day. He may have become overly sentimental in his old age, but he was entitled to it where his favorite granddaughter was concerned.
As he trudged back up the hill after eating, another thought occurred to him. Perhaps he was being selfish, but he missed her visits with him at the top of the hill. He had enjoyed their chats around his trusty telescope. Wilfred would never forget looking through it to see Donna standing at the door of the TARDIS.
He sighed sadly. If anything could beak an old man’s heart, it was losing someone he loved so dearly. He sometimes felt bad for it, but he didn’t consider the person living with them to be Donna. She was a shell, a hollow imitation of her. She looked like her, had her voice, but possessed none of the qualities that had made her a truly noble person.
And Donna would never know. She’d given everything she’d become for the Doctor, shared his life and his awareness for the briefest of moments, and it had been taken from her. Remembering even the smallest thing about the Doctor would kill her. She had received nothing in return for her sacrifice. In the end, she was exactly the same as before she’d gone on the journey of a lifetime.
Wilfred sat down on his stool, another thermos in his hands. He pointed his telescope to have a look at a particularly bright star and peered through the eyepiece. A twinkle slightly to the left of the star caught his eye and he moved the telescope to get a better look. He twiddled the focuser and the twinkle sharpened into a small blue telephone box.
His heart leapt at the sight of it. The door swung open, and Wilfred could just make out the Doctor standing in it. He was looking down right at Wilfred, the same sad look on his face as the day that he’d left. He seemed to know that Wilfred was looking up at him, because he raised a hand and waved down.
Wilfred saluted back up, wondering whether the Doctor could see him from this height. He decided that it didn’t matter. The Doctor was watching, and, maybe someday, he’d know how to fix Donna again. And, for the first time in months, Wilfred had hope.
Complete Fiction Index
Wilfred Mott found it easy to be sad in the days since the Doctor had left. It didn’t matter that being with the Doctor had been dangerous and had taken her away from them. She had been better, smarter, happier when she was with him. She had been so much more alive.
Now? Well, now she was back to being the same person she’d been before she’d met the Doctor, back to the snobbish, stuck-up gossip monger who went from one temp job to the next, searching and unhappy.
Wilfred started as he heard the back door bang open, glad for the warning before his granddaughter started shouting for him to come in to tea. He had grown accustomed to the version of Donna that hadn’t shouted quite so loudly when it wasn’t necessary.
“I’m coming, Donna. No need to shout!” he called down the hill.
She’s become a ginger-headed version of her mother again. Where did we ever go wrong with that one…
He shook his head sadly as he packed up his thermos and blanket before returning to the house. Once inside his ears were assaulted by the sound of Donna chatting up a storm with someone on her mobile. From what he could hear of Donna’s side of the conversation, she was still swearing that the world was wrong about the day that the world had been stolen from orbit around the sun. Not even her mother, who was not given to flights of fancy, could convince her.
No, Donna would not be swayed. It didn’t help that Wilfred couldn’t tell her anything about the Doctor, about her own travels through space and time. She had been part of it all. Hers was the life that had been manipulated and twisted to suit the fancy of a galactic terrorist. She had been the one to save the universe.
She had also been the one to pay the highest price this time around, at least in her grandfather’s mind. She had grown so much, become so much better, learned so much. Then she’d lost it all.
Wilfred could have blamed the Doctor. The Doctor could have, should have, found a way to fix her, make her better again. But he hadn’t. He’d locked away the part of Donna that Wilfred missed the most.
But he also knew that playing the blame game would do nothing except make himself more bitter. So Wilfred did the best that he could to help recover the sensible and smart Donna while keeping the Doctor a secret from her. Gentle suggestions and subtle hints did nothing, though, for this thick-headed version of Donna.
Through their small meal, Wilfred stared across the room, lost in thought, while Donna prattled away about the office gossip at her new temporary job. She didn’t notice the looks shared between her mother and her grandfather, and she certainly didn’t notice the awkward silence when the topic turned to all of her crazy friends insisting that they’d seen twenty-six other planets in the sky.
“I told them, all of them, that they could wave as many photos of it in front of me as they wish. They were all probably pissed and seeing things.”
Wilfred was careful not to let Donna see any indication that he knew more than she did. And it killed him. A small part of him died every time he had to lie to her and pretend that he didn’t know any more than she did about that fateful day. He may have become overly sentimental in his old age, but he was entitled to it where his favorite granddaughter was concerned.
As he trudged back up the hill after eating, another thought occurred to him. Perhaps he was being selfish, but he missed her visits with him at the top of the hill. He had enjoyed their chats around his trusty telescope. Wilfred would never forget looking through it to see Donna standing at the door of the TARDIS.
He sighed sadly. If anything could beak an old man’s heart, it was losing someone he loved so dearly. He sometimes felt bad for it, but he didn’t consider the person living with them to be Donna. She was a shell, a hollow imitation of her. She looked like her, had her voice, but possessed none of the qualities that had made her a truly noble person.
And Donna would never know. She’d given everything she’d become for the Doctor, shared his life and his awareness for the briefest of moments, and it had been taken from her. Remembering even the smallest thing about the Doctor would kill her. She had received nothing in return for her sacrifice. In the end, she was exactly the same as before she’d gone on the journey of a lifetime.
Wilfred sat down on his stool, another thermos in his hands. He pointed his telescope to have a look at a particularly bright star and peered through the eyepiece. A twinkle slightly to the left of the star caught his eye and he moved the telescope to get a better look. He twiddled the focuser and the twinkle sharpened into a small blue telephone box.
His heart leapt at the sight of it. The door swung open, and Wilfred could just make out the Doctor standing in it. He was looking down right at Wilfred, the same sad look on his face as the day that he’d left. He seemed to know that Wilfred was looking up at him, because he raised a hand and waved down.
Wilfred saluted back up, wondering whether the Doctor could see him from this height. He decided that it didn’t matter. The Doctor was watching, and, maybe someday, he’d know how to fix Donna again. And, for the first time in months, Wilfred had hope.
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Date: 2008-07-15 12:07 pm (UTC)*squishes Grandpa for being so WICKED AWESOME*
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