The TARDIS landed in Chiswick on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. They got the invitation to Sylvia's "Birthday Dinner party" a week ago, and Donna still had to find her excitement about it. She knew it would end in a catastrophe, like everything involving her mother these days. She even had to argue with her to bring the doctor along, because her mother didn't approve of her "traveling" with this strange man instead of "finding a job and finally make a living". But Donna didn't care. Either the both of them or no one.

So here they stood, on the front step of Donna's house, ringing the bell. While they were waiting for the door to be answered, Donna looked over at her friend. The Doctor had picked his brown, pinstriped suit and had tamed his chaotic hair to a neat, yet spiky style. He looked really good, if not for his brows furrowing once in a while.

"Are you alright?" Donna looked at her friend.

"Yeah, sure. I think the Ibuprofen is wearing off a bit, that's all. No need to worry." He had a headache this morning and took some painkillers, not wanting to cancel the party and giving Sylvia the satisfaction. Speaking of the devil, the door swung open.

"Ah, there you are. Finally. Come in, you're late."

They were shoved into the living room, where the other guests were already sitting around a decorated table with soup, turkey, and mashed potatoes. "Donna, Doctor! Good to see you! Come sit down. You have to tell me where you've traveled to the last couple of months."

Wilfred indicated the two free seats on each side of him and the two sat down, smiling at the excitement of the old man.

"Well, Gramps. We're just coming from 1862. One hell of a year, right Doctor?"

"Absolutely. Brilliant. Except the food, that was, well...mäh.". The Doctor looked over the table filled with huge bowls of food and couldn't help but feel nausea rising up. The Ibuprofen he had taken earlier was wearing off faster than he had predicted, and the headache was now developing into a full-fledged migraine.

"Let's hope Sylvia's food is better then." Whispered Wilfred, winked and reached over the table to get a big slice of the Turkey. But not without Sylvia noticing.

"Dad, what are you doing?! You know the fat is not good for your cholesterol." She snatched the turkey plate from under his nose, but Wilf started protesting. "That's not fair. Everyone gets a piece, except me? Donna, tell her that's not fair!" He looked help seeking to his granddaughter, who glared daggers at her mother.

"Mum now is not the time to table a new diet. You never had anything against gramps eating turkey before."

"Yes, I did. I am tabling a new diet for weeks now, you just never were here to notice it." That hit a nerve. Sylvia had always been complaining that her daughter was never at home, but not as much as she did when she began traveling with the doctor.

"Oh, I'm sorry mom, that I get my life together and see the world! You had always been the one telling me to leave the house. Now I do, and you're still not satisfied!" Donna was furious. Her mother always found a way to get to this topic, ignoring the fact that this time, the Doctor was sitting on the table with them. Sylvia hadn't explicitly said his name, but everyone with a functioning brain could put two and two together.

But instead of being offended, or coming to Donna's help, as usual, the Doctor was just staring at his plate. His brows were furrowing again and he was swallowing heavily now and then.

"Doctor, is everything alright?" Wilfred was the first one to notice something was wrong. At his words, Donna's attention immediately switched to her friend, who quickly looked up and nodded his head a bit too enthusiastically. "Yeah, yeah I'm alright. The food is fantastic..."

"But you haven't eaten anything yet." Sylvia countered, eyeing him confused.

"Haven't I? Oh, right...I just...Donna, where's the toilet?"

"Ehm, down the hall, last door on the left..." Donna couldn't even finish her sentence properly, as the Doctor suddenly bolted out of the room, knocking down his chair and Wilf's wine glass, which was thankfully empty.

Everyone at the table was taken aback by this sudden sprint, leaving a now even more narked Sylvia staring at her daughter. "What. Was. That."

The Doctor burst through the bathroom door, fell to his knees in front of the toilet and managed to lift the lid just in time as he vomited into the bowl. He felt like crap. His head was pounding more and more, sending a jolt of pain through him at every heartbeat. And he had two of them, so the pain didn't even seem to stop. Oh, how he hated migraines.

Being a Time Lord, he had a much more complex brain than an ordinary human: his telepathic abilities alone gave him access to at least twice as much neural cells, and when those were on overdrive, it could become nearly unbearable.

As his stomach calmed down, the doctor noticed that someone was standing outside the open door. Brilliant. He had tried not to make a fuss about this, but given his sudden sprint towards the bathroom, he hadn't done such a brilliant job apparently.

"Are you ok?" Donna approached him slowly, a worried look on her face. She knew about those migraine attacks and how bad they could become. She had insisted that he stayed in the TARDIS earlier this morning, but the Doctor had not wanted to give Sylvia the satisfaction of not coming, or to give her a reason to brag about his not coming towards Donna. She had fought so hard for her mother to allow him being here in the first place.

But now he was sitting here, ruining the party. "No...I'm so sorry Donna, I-"

Donna made her way across the small bathroom and knelt beside him, rubbing circles on his back. "Shh, it's ok. It's not your fault."

"It is..." A new wave of pain washed over him and he clenched his eyes shut. He couldn't help but gag again, but this time without anything coming out.

"I should go back to the TARDIS.." He stood up but swayed on his feet. The light coming through the tiny bathroom window was way too bright and burned in his eyes, forcing him to shut them again.

"You're going nowhere, Spaceman. Look at you. You can't even look or walk straight, and you're shaking."

The Doctor hadn't noticed that, until Donna took him by his arm and lead him out of the bathroom, steadying his walk. His view was getting smaller and smaller by the minute, and without Donna's guide, he would have knocked over every object in range, and probably himself, too.

It was a mystery to him how they had managed the stairs, but Donna led him into a small bedroom on the first floor. "No Donna, I can't..." "Yes, you can. And you will, Spaceman." Without further argument, Donna indicated him to sit on the bed, pulled off his converse and loosened his tie. "Sorry that I can't offer you a pajama, but gramps' are way too small for you, skinny boy."

The Doctor, feeling defeated by Donna's insistence, laid down onto the fluffy pillow.

She, on the other hand, got up and pulled down the curtain. As the room got dark, the Doctor let out a sigh

"Better?"

"Yeah...Donna, are you sure you want me to stay? You know how bad Time Lord migraines can get...I don't want to upset your mother or the rest of your family...I've already made a mess in the bathroom..."

"Yes, I am sure. I'm also sure that you couldn't even leave the house in your state. So, no argument. Try to sleep a bit, maybe it. gets better." Donna stroked his head and turned to head for the door, as the Doctor caught her wrist.

"Thank you..."

She smiled. "You're welcome."