There are times when all wrongs can be made right with a mother's love. Her soft touch can wipe the worries from her child's brow. Just hearing her voice dispels fears, warms the heart, and soothes the soul. No one can make a cup of tea the way your own mother can and there's nothing better to warm your soul.
These things are all true of some mothers.
Sometimes, these things were even true of Rose's own mother.
Of course she did not *need* to go home and do laundry. The TARDIS seemed to be able to provide everything. There was just something to be said of being fussed over, once in a while. Sometimes, it was a relief to be sat down on the couch, handed a cup of tea, and lectured at while someone else did your laundry - especially when it was all full of smoke and grease and alien slime and worse.
It let her know she was loved. Her clothes smelled like home, no matter how far away she was, and it kept loneliness at bay.
Sometimes, all these things, all these wonderful, mothering things, helped to ground Rose and gave her strength, when she needed a little extra. She came away refreshed, and happy, and ready for her next adventure.
This was not one of those times.
"Oh my god," drawled Jackie Tyler, staring at one of her daughter's garments. "That's blood!" she screeched, turning around to hold it up as proof. "There's blood all over your jumper!"
"S'not blood, Mum. Just spit."
"Oh, come off it, Rose! I know the difference between spit and /blood/ and that's what this is! Blood! It better not be yours," she warned, darkly.
Rose laughed, though cut it short at the dirty look her mother cast her. She saw the worry, there, beneath her mother's bluster, so she leaned forward to get a better look at her. "It's not!" Rose protested, again. "I mean it's not blood! I guess it's, technically, plasma," she offered, emphasizing the word, "but it's this thing, call a Pletlatilian, and he's this great, big, jelly-thing, and that's its spit. Not that he was hurt," she went on, as her mother's eyes grew wider and wider. "That's just what he spits.
"Anyway, he wasn't aiming at me," she reassured her, brightly. "We were being chased, and that gory stuff is slippery as anything!" Rose chimed. "It was a brilliant idea. Not his fault I fell. Got the Nemiens off our backs long enough for the Doctor to find us," she finished, casting her gaze about for a magazine.
"Oh, stop it!" Jackie cried. "What do you mean, 'find you?' You mean to tell me he lost you? What are you two doin' up there, anyway? You said you were sight-seeing! You come home covered with blood," at which Rose rolled her eyes, "and say that bloody alien lost you!"
"Only for a little while," Rose insisted.
"You're to kill me, Rose! I am going to die of concern, I really am!" Jackie insisted, shoving the offending article of clothing into the wash. "You're up there, God knows where, and one day, I am going to get a phone call!" She froze, and then fumed on. "Not even that, no! Won't get a phone call!" She shoved the rest of her clothes in and slammed the door closed. "Himself will show up." She cranked the setting knob. "He'll have those big, sad eyes and all his apologies," she complained, then jerked the dial out to start the load. The loud, rush of water was not enough to cover up her rant. "But he won't have my daughter, no. You're dead, somewhere up there. 'Cause he went and let you get yourself eaten!" she finished, her voice shrill with fear. "Are you laughing at me?!"
"No!" Rose swore, though the mirth in her voice gave the lie away.
"Rose. Sweet heart."
Rose took a breath to brace herself. She knew that tone.
"Rose, Shareen came by, askin' about you. You know what she said to me? She told me, last time you acted like this was back with that Jimmy Stone," Jackie fussed.
"Mum," Rose warned, setting her mug down.
"No, now, let me say this! We miss you, sweetheart, and everyone's worried about you!"
"This sounds like an intervention," Rose teased, trying to wiggle out of the situation with a smile.
"Alright, then that's what it is! No, sit back down. You listen to me!"
"Mum!" Rose tried again, but Jackie was having none of it.
"I hardly ever get to see you anymore –"
"I was here just last weekend."
"-And I just need to say it, this once –"
"We had this same conversation," Rose jabbed a finger into the couch, for emphasis. "Right here. A month ago."
"-Because we're all worried about you, Rose! I'm afraid I'll never see you again! You've had your fun, alright? Now just come home!"
"How can you say that?"
"There's plenty to do here, Rose. Saw a 'Help Wanted' sign, just down the road. Rose, I've been thinking about it. Sweetheart, he's so old!"
"Is that what this is about? Really?"
"Rose, I know you think you and him's got something special – No, hear me out! I know you think you've got something special, but he's an alien, sweetheart! And he's been doing this for God only knows how long. And he's so selfish! How many other girls he done this with, hmm? And when you're gone, or dead, what do you think he's going to do? He'll find some other, poor girl and whisk her away to the stars and get her killed, too, and all the while we poor mothers, waiting back at home, cryin' in our beds!"
Rose waited until her mother finished. She stood up and hugged Jackie, then she kissed her cheek. "I love you, Mum."
Jackie looked at her daughter, hope clear in her expression.
"I'll see you later, I promise," she chirped, hopping onto, then over, the couch with a frightened laugh, ducking so she wouldn't hit her head on the ceiling. Her mother howled behind her: "Rose Marion Tyler!" It was an easy, straight shot to the door. She ignored her mother's further protests and pulled the door closed when she was out. Rose didn't stop running till she was at the top of the staircase. She slowed down, then, taking the steps at a sane pace.
She hated running out on her mother, especially like that, but she wouldn't have that conversation. What her mother said gave her the creepy crawlies, due in no small part to her own insecurities. Nothing her mother had said was entirely wrong. She hadn't got it right but, especially after the Sarah Jane adventure, Rose knew better than ever that the sentiment was not completely wrong, either.
Only one thing for it, then.
Just keep running.
Author's Note: Hello!
This one came out when I was trying to work on my other one. Sorry. Please let me know what you think about this one, though! Little bit of Jackie love. Always open to all forms of criticism, but not flames. Thanks!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Doctor Who.