Just a small fic. I really wanted to write something Doctor Who related. Feel free to point out any spelling/grammar/syntax/whatever mistakes. I'm not native English and I want to improve.
Have fun reading!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Even if you have everything, all of time and space, you'll still miss the familiarity of home. The look of your room and the flowers in the light, the smell of the house and the grass, those small sounds you only remember when you're away, the food...
'Donna?'
The Doctor peered around the door of her room. The light was turned low, but in the dim light he could see her silhouette. She was sitting on the bed, her face buried in her hands.
After a nudge from the TARDIS, he casually walked inside. He sat down next to her on the bed, his arms shifting awkwardly on the bright orange quilt. He didn't knew if he was supposed to put an arm around her shoulder, or if he should leave it like this.
Give me an alien to fight any day.
'Donna?', he asked again, 'are you alright?'
Donna drew in a sharp breath and slowly breathed out. Then she said, in a small voice: 'I miss home.'
The Doctor's stomach sunk. He pushed his first thought away: at least, you still have a home! along with all the emotions that belonged to it; the grief and the anger and the self-loathing.
'Doctor?'
'Yes?'
'Do you sometimes feel like... like it's too big? Like we are all just small ants, crawling away on our little planet, watching TV, sleeping and eating and working...?'
She took a breath, as to steady herself, and continued:
'Aren't we all just useless?'
The Doctor sighted. Some days everything just felt wrong. It seemed like Donna was caught in one of them. He knew the feeling all too well from back in the days, after the end of the Time War when he has just met Rose. Some days, he had to drag himself out of his hammock; hoping the feeling would go away. The feeling that everything was useless. My planet, my people, my enemies... Now what's the point in living?
He still wasn't entirely sure what the point of it all was. He had been, when he was younger. But after the war... After Doomsday, the Year That Never Was, after that ... that... after his daughter had been killed, he wasn't convinced of the goodness of beings anymore.
But the occasional goodness; a mother caring for her child, someone who smiles when it rains and of course, his companions... Those small, valuable moments, for those he lived now.
'Well...' he said, his tone (he hoped) not all to sad.
Donna looked up at him. She wasn't crying, but her mouth trembled.
'You'll be okay', the Doctor said. 'It's a passing feeling. I felt the same way when...' his voice trailed off. He was not sure which moment he should mention here.
Donna seemed to understand.
'I know', she sighted. 'It's just... Sometimes, it all...so much.'
'Yes', he agreed.
They sat together on the bed for a while. Donna, because she couldn't think of anything else to do, the Doctor because he felt it would be rude to stand up and go. And, secretly, because he just didn't feel like doing anything else.
Donna suddenly spoke up.
'You know what I miss? It may seem stupid... I mean, it's just food.'
The Doctor looked at her. This was something he could help with.
'What kind of food?' Please, don't say pears!
Donna spoke; 'Cheddar'.
The Doctor stared at her for a few seconds. Then he started grinning. Donna grinned too. The mood in the room lightened with the second. The Doctor jumped on his feet, laughing.
'Well!', he said, 'coming?'
Donna stood up from the bed, her sadness not forgotten but diminished.
'Where are we going?', she asked.
'America, Oregon in 1989! The biggest cheddar ever produced!' he shouted down the hall of the TARDIS.
Donna stood up, smiling. This man never failed to make her feel better.
Fin!
Any good?