Here is that new story i promised. Hope no one is disappointed with it. its different than what many of you are expecting, but rest assured theree will be suitable amounts of mirth abound.
The worst thing about working the A and E had little to nothing to do with the patients. In fact they were the best part of the job. The small hands that held onto hers, the eyes that searched for answers, the mouths that twitched for hope.
No, the finest part of her job was most definitely the patients.
But the shit was in the small details.
Endless charting and walking and waiting. Tests to run, instruments to find, and nurses to order around. The job came with a list of duties that were never ending. Though, previous experience had given her much pleasure in the ordering around of nurses. At least the blond ones.
She held onto the title of Dr. with as much pride and ardor as her parents seemed to take in mentioning to friends. Martha Jones stepped into the hospital every morning with a cock sure m=smile and sturdy love for her job because Martha Jones knew her shit.
In her most secret of secret idlings, in the small time she had to ponder or fancy, usually on the tube that brought her to and from her home, Martha endeavored to believe that her medical skills could be likened to a super hero. But that was idle bullshit. In reality her skills were hard won during an entire year of existence that no one would believe ever happened.
Well, nearly no one.
Martha also found herself wondering what he would think of her choice to practice medicine again. It had been he who secured her job at UNIT, and she had turned down an ongoing stint with Jack in the bowels of Cardiff.
Of course the pronoun needed neither explanation nor mentioning in her mind. It was the sincerest pain she had felt in her short tenure of life. He would never acknowledge her as anything more than the most brilliant human he had ever met. For anyone that would have been enough, more than enough. It would have been the sun, the moon, and every star in earth's meager sky.
But he would never, not in a million years multiplied by eternity, would he see her as anything more than that. Martha would always hold an outstretched hand that would be slapped playfully away.
As she walked the bitter smelling halls of the first floor, Martha smiled at friends as she passed them. The decision to leave Unit was hers and hers alone, had nothing to do with her mother's pleas to try something 'normal' for a change.
Who the fuck wanted normal anyway?
But she needed that adrenaline rush, the constant changing, always something new or challenging. She knew she would never take her education for granted, but she also knew she would always be something just this side shy of normal.
It wasn't posh Royal Hope that she chose to work in. That would have made Francine Jones smile in that contented self-smug air that Martha had come to love and mimic so well. No, Martha accepted a position in the poorest section of London, near the Council Estates. The irony was most definitely not lost on her.
"Curtain three is a feast for the eyes." Nurse Patel commented as she breezed past Martha. She had grown to really like Nurse Patel, the woman not only knew how to do her job, she did it well and with a wry sense of humor that kept things interesting. The more serious the situation, the more one could rely on Patel for both ability and humor.
Martha accepted the file into her hands from the still moving woman and made her way to the sectioned off area in the far corner.
The man inside was handsome, blondish hair small features and lanky build. He held his arm in such a way Martha didn't need an x-ray to know that he needed a cast and some really good drugs.
"Broken." The man offered, who's name according to the file was John Smith.
"Interesting name, Mr. Smith." Martha smirked as she began to examine the man's injury. "And I am the trained professional here, so I will be the one to judge whether or not the cast needs to be set or not."
The man sniffed loudly before going on. "It's just that, well I am a nurse sort of, I know a little bit about these things. Not to mention I am the one with the immense amount of pain-ow!" he tried to move his arm away from her ministrations and made another sound of pain for his foolishness.
"Nurse or not mate, you should know better than to move a broken arm around like that." She smirked as she made a notation on the chart. "I am going to send you off to get that scanned, and then we'll see what' needed, yeah?" she flashed her best 'I'm a doctor.' smile at him before heading to the door to call for transport. "how did you manage that anyway?" She asked imagining some football injury that he would have to explain to his wife later.
"Well, there was running." He grimaced trying to adjust into a more comfortable position. "So much running."
"Were you being chased?" Martha asked with concern.
"When are we not?" he muttered just outside of her hearing.
"What was that?" she asked coming closer to Mr. Smith again.
"Just, nothing." He shook his head. "Football. We were running for the goal, I got tangled up with the forward."
"Ouch, mate." Martha grinned. "Those pub leagues can be murder."
"Only the alien ones." She heard him mutter.
Martha shrugged and made a mental note to put in for a psych consult for the handsome young man. She had just made the final notes on his chart and got him to sign off on consent when the transport appeared.
"Uhm, excuse me?" Mr. Smith asked as the orderly made his way into the room with the wheelchair.
"Yeah?" She asked shoving her hands into the pockets of her pristine coat, wishing she had made a getaway before he started in with the anxieties.
"My wife and the Do-her friend may show up. Could you let them know I am ok?" he asked.
Martha placed her hand upon his shoulder and patted softly. "Of course, I'll let them know."
With that, the orderly took him off to be checked.