This little ficlet was inspired by this drawing by Bee! Short, but I just feel the need to see them with a little Time Baby. ;~; (The Doctor can speak baby, for those who don’t know.) *** The Doctor smiled down at the baby girl in his arms, humming softly. A pair of alert, blue eyes stared back at him. “You have your mother’s eyes, little one,” said the Doctor quietly, not yet wanting to wake the sleeping woman in the bed across the room; she desperately needed the rest. He gently stroked the top of the baby’s head. “And if I’m not mistaken, you’ll have her hair as well.” The baby, still unnamed, gurgled and gazed intently at her father. “Yes, ginger is quite a nice color. I think it will suit you just fine. I’ve always wanted to be ginger… never had the chance though. I came close once, bought hair coloring from a little earth shop. The package said my hair would turn a shiny copper, but it didn’t change in the slightest!” he exclaimed softly. The baby cooed again and the Doctor kissed her forehead. “I know you want your mum, but she’s exhausted. Feeding you used up the last little bit of energy she had left. But she’ll be awake soon, I promise.” The baby gave what the Doctor could only define as an indignant hmph, and he chuckled. “She loves you more than anything, you know. She spends all day worrying about you… She’ll do anything to keep you safe. And so will I. I’ll protect the pair of you as best I can.” Another coo from the baby, and another chuckle from the Doctor. “Let mum sleep, little one.” “I’m awake,” Donna whispered hoarsely, smiling. “Been listening to you two talk.” The Doctor stood up from his chair and crossed the room to Donna’s bedside. “Give me my baby,” she said, love welling up inside of her, and the Doctor complied, gently placing the baby in Donna’s arms. He got in the bed beside her, sending the TARDIS a silent thanks for giving them a large bed. “She still needs a name,” Donna said, her eyes never leaving her daughter’s face. “We can’t go on calling her little one.” “What do you think she looks like? Any names come to mind?” asked the Doctor. Donna sighed thoughtfully. “What about Charlotte? I’ve always loved that name,” said Donna, and the baby made a noise of contentment. “She likes it,” the Doctor said, positioning himself behind Donna, his hands on her shoulders. They sat in silence for a few moments, watching their daughter in pure admiration. The Doctor kissed Donna’s temple. “You know what she told me earlier? After you fell asleep?” “What?” Donna asked, turning to look at him. “She likes it when you talk. Your voice is the first thing she ever heard, so it’s only natural. But she loves to listen to you. It makes her happy.” Donna smiled tearily, the love she felt for Charlotte nearly doubling. She lifted her and kissed her forehead softly.
“There is a kind of crying I hope you have not experienced, and it is not just crying about something terrible that has happened, but a crying for all the terrible things that have happened, not just to you but to everyone you know and to everyone you don’t know and even the people you don’t want to know, a crying that cannot be diluted by a brave deed or a kind word, but only by someone holding you as your shoulders shake and your tears run down your face.”—Lemony Snicket (via societykilledtheinsane)