Spoilers: School Reunion (just slightly)
Characters: Sarah Jane Smith, K-9, Rachel Marie Smith
Warnings: AU, this isn't remotely canon folks.
Summary: Sarah leaves many things unsaid these days.
Author notes: For some reason this bunny bit me while watching Pyramids of Mars the other night. Re-written from the original Something Left Unsaid version.
Sarah sighed and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched the young dark haired woman rooting through her fridge. “Rachel, I seem to remember you having your own flat. With your own kitchen, fully equipped with its own fridge.”
“Mum!” Rachel looked up and grinned widely. “Your leftovers are much better than the ones in my fridge.”
“Laundry and food, is that all you visit for?” Sarah walked over and kissed Rachel’s cheek. Sarah didn’t mind her daughter comings and goings; she was just thankful it hadn’t happened while the Doctor was there.
Rachel grabbed a pizza box out and sat it on the counter. “No, I also come for the witty banter.” K-9 cleared his circuits. “And the — K-9!”
Sarah watched as Rachel dropped to her knees by the dog.
“You’re fixed, you dear old thing. And don’t you look smashing. Did you get an upgrade?” Rachel cried happily.
K-9 seemed rather pleased, at least Sarah thought so, it was rather hard to tell small tin dogs. “Affirmative, mistress.”
“Who fixed him, mum? I thought you said you couldn’t find the parts — only person could fix him was the Doctor, you said. You saw the Doctor again?” Rachel clapped her hands together. “You saw the Doctor and — wait you saw the Doctor and you didn’t even call me?”
Sarah shook her head. “You were at work.” It was an empty excuse; they both knew she wouldn't have called regardless.
“And it was dreadfully dull,” Rachel sulked getting to her feet.
“Don’t whinge, Rachel. You’re twenty-six; not six.” Sarah sighed.
Rachel crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip. “I’m not whinging. Am I K-9?”
“More like sulking, mistress.” K-9 answered.
Rachel sulked more. “Stop sulking, Rachel Marie.” Sarah warned. “I did see the Doctor, yes.” She allowed.
“So?” Rachel asked, pulling over a kitchen chair. She sat down backwards in it, chin on the back.
“How is Danny?” Sarah asked.
Rachel blinked. “She’s fine. She has a class now.” She narrowed her brown eyes at her mother. “Why are you asking ‘bout, Danny? You don’t even like her.”
“I like her fine, Rachel. She’s a very — interesting girl.” Sarah said diplomatically. “I don’t care who you want to date or live with, I just wish you’d find someone more grounded.”
“Not having this conversation with you now. If you didn’t want to talk about the Doctor, you could have said so.” Rachel snapped; she climbed out of the chair. “I should go.”
In that moment the kitchen felt too small. As if there wasn’t enough air for them both. “No, stay. I’ll make dinner.”
Rachel shook her head as she put on one shoe and hunted for the match. “Not hungry.”
“I’ll tell you about seeing the Doctor.” Sarah said softly.
“Mum,” Rachel’s shoulders slumped. Her hands clutched her shoe. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t need to know.”
Sarah waited, expecting Rachel to put on the other shoe and leave. Rachel just stood in the kitchen, clutching her shoe. The action made the differences between them all the more apparent; had it been Sarah in the kitchen, she'd have been long gone.
Rachel looked up at her mother. “Can I have leftovers for, Danny?”
Sarah was starting to realize that having your daughter do just what you want was an unsettling thing.