a/n: Sorry it's taken me so long to write something again. Just a short and random.
Doctor Who still isn't mine. Lyrics are 'What You're Made Of' by Lucie Silvas.
Getting Out
"If it's not what you're made of,
You're not what I'm looking for
You were willing but unable
To give me any more
There's no way you're changing
Cause some things will just never be mine
You're not love this time…but it's alright"
Bitterly, her fingers slammed onto the CD player causing it to come to a juddering and abrupt halt. Seconds later, the Lucie Silvas CD slammed into the wall as tears found their course down her face. This was going to be harder than she expected. Actually, it wasn't. Maybe this was why Vicky was so reluctant to get out. But then again, she didn't have to try to get over the Doctor.
Many a time her fingers had brushed over her Mum's landline telephone, sorely tempted to dial her mobile number and beg him to come and pick her up again. Throwing herself back at her medical studies had helped somewhat and she was nearing graduation, anticipating it even. It hadn't taken long to get back on course, despite the fact she had been away for well over a year in her point of view. She was relieved that she had been let back on at all, having been announced to the world as a terrorist. It was lucky, in that respect, that Mr. Saxon, or rather the Master, had shown himself as being a complete psychopath on international television. However, that was no way near a large enough distraction to take her mind off the Doctor. Nor was helping her sister with job-hunting, re-building her flat (she desperately needed that deposit back) or her parent's imminent re-marriage.
Observing the damage done to the innocent CD, she came to the conclusion that she would have to scrape together some money for a replacement for her sister. She loved Lucie and had decided to lend it to her, deeming her music as being 'relaxing'. That wouldn't be much of a problem once she was working full-time somewhere. Last exam in the morning, graduate by mid-July, and move on with her life and maybe then she would allow herself the luxury of calling the Doctor. Something gave her the idea that he would hate the fact that she was pining away for him despite seeming fine on the exterior. But that was why she needed to get away. She had hoped leaving the TARDIS, returning to normality, being without him would help her. It couldn't even take her mind off him temporarily so how could it help her reassess her relationship with him before she returned?
The telephone rang, underneath her fingertips yet again, taking her by surprise. She had been incredibly close to calling the Doctor yet again. With a mad scramble, she managed to hold it in place and gasp 'hello'.
"Martha Jones." The familiar American accent gushed down the line. "I have a job for you."