Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related series are owned by the BBC and their respective writers. Seeing as how I'm not even from the U.K, it's a good assumption I have nothing to do with its ownership. Which means I get nothing from this.
AN: First story. Whoo. Last time I tried to write something along fanfic lines was over a decade ago, and let me tell you it was fucking awful. Like, 'preteen fangirl with rudimentary writing ability on Gaia Online' awful. I'm also kinda bullshitting this as we go along, so we'll see how this pans out.
My only defense for this is there is a severe lacking of female Doctor anything on the internet. Combine being salty about that, the excellent fic "Female of the Species" by Bella the Strange (Which I would highly suggest giving a look if you haven't) and having a relatively boring stretch at work brought this monstrosity to life.
And hell, maybe this'll shape to be something half decent and not trash. Yay.
Tonight was really not going according to plan for the Doctor.
Then again, most days the last few months haven't been. Something had to change; maybe he could go back and find a way to ban all days that ended with 'Y'? Surely that would take care of the problem. But he was rather fond of Saturday though. Get rid of Tuesday? Maybe Sunday- the day is boring and the planet was too wet for his taste. Interesting fauna species though; they should make a trip. Wait, where was he going with this?
A bestial voice sounded from outside the bright white box he and his newest companion were taking shelter in. Ah, that's right.
All he wanted to do was drop Martha off and be on his way; maybe pick up some chips and have a good read in the TARDIS library. The two of them have had some amazing adventures, and she was absolutely brilliant, and it was all well and good to have company again. But after what happened at Torchwood with the Daleks and Cybermen still being too fresh a memory, he needed time to work things for himself.
Everything from closing the parallel world, to helping the ginger spit-fire bride who unexpectedly popped aboard and kept insisting he was a Martian (He was nothing like a Martian, thank you very much), to saving an entire hospital that was transported to the moon was interesting to say the least. If anything, the kind of adventures he usually lived for. But there wasn't even the slightest chance to slow down. To mourn for the could-have and should-have beens he lost on that beach in Norway. It was all too much too soon and he was growing exhausted from it.
So he intended to drop Martha off and go. She could find happiness without the Doctor, just like all of the other companions did. She was bright and would understand why he wanted to go back to being a lone traveler, if only for a short while. She would realize there was more to life than sticking with a mad man and his blue box.
That plan went down the rubbish when the telly mentioned the apparent event of the century. Martha's sister conveniently had special tickets for her and a guest since she was in charge of PR for it, and he decided to see what this Professor Richard Lazarus really meant by changing what it meant to be human.
Seeing it in action, the results were astounding. If you don't count the device almost blowing them to kingdom come then the fact that Lazarus, a man born before the Second World War, walked out of the machines door looking and feeling decades younger than when he went in brought awe and inspiration to the crowd. Truly, they thought, he did what he said and changed the outlook he sought.
And while it was impressive, he was the only one that felt a sense of trepidation about the matter. Humans shouldn't have anything remotely to this caliber of capability, especially in the 21st century.
Lazarus and the Lady Thaw dodged his interest and questions with unfortunate precision, and there was so much more to this that needed explaining. Just because the professor may have understood the theory of hypersonic sound waves did not mean he could account for all the risks and variables. And the Doctor could have sworn, sworn with almost more ferocity than anything else he felt in his nine-hundred years, that something felt familiar about the energy from that machine.
Something powerful and mysterious, and could never be controlled in the way Lazarus wanted it to be. And it terrified him.
That fear turned out to be for just reasoning when people started dying in the form of crazed ambitions crossed with genetic manipulation. That topped with explaining to the darker woman about messing with DNA and protein sequences while escaping from said monster making passes at her sister was surprisingly not in the top ten of how he wanted to spend the evening.
Okay, that's lying; maybe eighth, if he was honest. Nothing does quite say a fun night like running away from excruciating death and explaining the science behind why Tish's boss turned into a homicidal scorpion beasty.
And the nibbles. He does love some good party nibbles.
He was distracted from his ramblings by Martha asking him another question. He really needed to stop getting sidetracked. He answered back, "Some option that evolution rejected for you millions of years ago, but the potential is still there. Locked away in your genes, forgotten about until Lazarus unlocked it by mistake."
"It's like a Paradox box."
"Exactly. Nice shoes, by the way."
Thinking back on his life, the Doctor wished he took more time to study mechanics of this finesse. While he loved studying botany, thermodynamics, and cosmic science, those weren't exactly being useful at the moment. Maybe that's what they could start using Tuesday's for. And then maybe he wouldn't be sitting in a machine with a monster trying to kill them while he tried to sonic wires to make it reflect the power on the outside of the machine instead of absorb it inside and—
A blue light flashed on as the machine started whirring to life. Well there goes their hope for more time then.
"Doctor, what's happening?"
"Sounds like he switched the machine on."
"That's not good, is it?"
"Well, I was hoping it would take him a little longer to work that out."
As the machine starts to spin and become brighter, Martha tensed and gazed at him with increasing concern. "I don't mean to hurry you, but…"
He doesn't even blink while continuing to work on the cables. He's only half listening to her at this point, trying to figure out what attaches to what and where that familiar energy he felt is coming from, buried somewhere in the abyss of connectors and electricity. "I know, I know. Nearly done."
And then the Doctor pauses because he feels it. It's there in front of him and so close, buried in a little panel box just right behind the wires to reflect the incoming sound wave of manipulation that could scream disaster for them both. The energy that feels soft and understanding, like it knows everything he has been through and wants to comfort him like a blanket.
Martha doesn't notice his pause, looking more panicked between the flashing lights and him. He supposes she's probably too worried about living through this. Maybe have a good nap and about her sister and possibly thinking of continuing to travel with this insane man who calls nowhere home, when she asks him what exactly he's doing.
The Doctor explains bluntly about the reflection idea and how Lazarus' new body is spread so thin through cellular triplication and what would happen if this plans works. But he retains focus on the wires and moving his sonic through the tight space to the little box to open it. Just a little more and he can reach it.
The motor spurs the apparatus faster and Martha's yell interrupts his thoughts, "We're gonna end up like him!"
"Just one more!"
He says it because there really is only one more wire to take care of, to switch the polarity of the energy and send it straight out and away from them. He says it as a way to assure himself and Martha that they would make it out of this okay.
He mostly says it because "just one more" really meant one more inch until the sonic screwdriver unlatched whatever keeping all that infuriatingly interesting energy locked up. There was no way it was any nearby assessable source; a machine like this would need a large surplus and more to make it even start, let alone finish the entire process. Whatever they were dealing with not only was enough to complete the genetic manipulation and almost cause it to destruct twice, but also enough to exceed its holding capacity and blow up the complex with more capacity than the missile that condemned 10 Downing Street.
And all of it was coming from a panel no larger than his palm.
He bends forward and the sonic screwdriver makes contact. He hears it unlatch the same time he touches the wire he knows (hopes) will end this. He drops his trusted tool and forces open the panel to make a grab at whatever is contained inside when he takes a tight hold of the wire in his other hand.
At the same time the Doctor pulls the cord so it disconnects from the main breaker with his left hand, his opposite takes hold of what feels to be akin to a small glass vial. The sheer familiarity coming from it stuns him and he can only stare at his right arm holding whatever it is because now he knows exactly what is in that glass and 'how in the hell did Lazarus get this?'
Then the connector in his hand lets out a shock, the cord sending a small electrical current into whatever is now conducting it. Namely, him. He lets out a sharp yelp and feels his body tighten to fend off the abrupt assault of pain while he glares at the cord.
Then he hears a crunch and realizes one second too late what happened. 'Oh bugger."
All of a sudden there is blood from his veins and the now known substance flowing together, dripping down his hand and mixing into the cuts from the glass, and for a second he feels completely relaxed. The bright lights and Martha's scream drown away from his mind and, for a split second, his reality shifts.
The fluorescent lights and stings of pain are replaced by an expanse of red, bleeding a gradient from the ground to the sky, and the feel of grass between his toes. He sees snow capped mountains outlining the twin suns and the silver leaves of trees long forgotten. Everything is just as the Doctor remembers it, before being shipped away at the tender age of eight and everything going wrong.
And then his body seizes in agony and he screams. Everything is burning and there is a fire licking away at his body that he swears feels hotter than the plasma flares of Eta Carinae and his mind is taken back to the present reality. But instead of the white light from the hyper-sonic sound wave manipulator all there is are streams of a radiant golden glow roaring throughout the space, going around and around until there is nothing else visible.
He thinks he hears Martha crying his name, and hopes she's alright. She still has so much to show the world and would probably kill him for ruining it so early on, and he considers continuing to take her around the universe so she can talk him out of doing these dumb things he does. Maybe on Saturday take her on a vacation to somewhere nice; she deserves it. Saturday's were good. Hell, he'd even be willing to spend a million more ridiculous Tuesday's doing boring relaxing if only this pain would stop.
The apex of energy was finally released outside the machine, and he could hear the hollow dying screech of Professor Lazarus. Too numb to focus on anything except the softly swirling golden light around him, the Doctor closed his eyes.
And then everything was quiet and dark.
When he started to wake up from the deep unconsciousness, the Doctor could tell something was different.
Not bad different, per se, but something felt off. He swiftly went over a mental checklist (Teeth felt fine, still two hearts beating, other involuntary motor functions A-Okay, did he shrink? He felt smaller. And something felt decisively wrong below the neck) before deciding as long as the generals worked and it wasn't a full regeneration, he was too tired to care. He could hear Martha babbling about something, so at least she was okay too. That's good; sleeping a little longer would be good too…
"Doctor!"
A sharp pain hit the side of his face. His eyes flew open to see Martha with a sheepish expression. "Ow!" The Doctor rubbed his cheek and whined, "What'd you do that for?" Aha! Voice sounded a little different, that's new.
Martha raised an eyebrow, trying with increasing difficulty not to appear smug at his overreaction of the slap. "Sorry!" 'She could at least have the decency to look sorry about it,' he thought, throughly disgruntled. "It's just, well, you weren't waking up. Had to make sure you're alright and all."
"Look at you; doctor to the Doctor now?" He gave a chuckle and tried to stand up. Then vertigo kicked in and he went tumbling arse first back to the ground. He gave a grumble and a scowl when Martha tried to contain a laugh. She had a questioning squint in her gaze though. He just went through the whole effort of saving them; why was she looking at him like that?
Figuring it might be the blood ('She should really get over that if she's going into medicine,' he thought), he held up his damaged hand and asked her, "So what's the diagnosis, Doctor Jones? Am I gonna make it?"
"Ah, well…" She paused a moment, studying him up and down and her eyes gravitated to anything that wasn't him. "I'm a bit out of my depth with this. Is this..." She gestured toward him, "Normal? For your kind?"
The Doctor gave her an odd stare before peering down at his hand. Outside of a couple cuts and some bleeding nothing appeared out of place. Easy enough to heal in the TARDIS infirmary; no regeneration energy even required. Sure there was a bit of blood, and maybe some glass could have gotten in the cuts—wait. 'Why does my hand look weird?'
This hand was noticeably different than the hand he was used to. Smaller and slimmer, with long fingers and a wrist that did not fit the cuffs to the suit. Lifting the other, his left was identical to the new right. Now focusing on the rest of the body, he could feel something was definitely outside the norm. There was only one more thing to do to conclude this hypothesis. A bit unnerved, he looked down.
Oh. Oh.
His gaze shot back to Martha's, confusion and intrigue shining through. She knew that look; it was the same as if they had found a new planet or alien species, like there was an exciting adventure and a puzzle to be solved. Suddenly he grabbed whatever was in the glass container off the floor, Martha gazing on disapprovingly as he winced from accidentally picking up a broken shard or two alongside, and quickly jumped up. This time using the continuing vertigo as momentum, he bashed his side into the door to force it open.
Stumbling from the over exuberant force and the door opening much easier than anticipated, the Doctor flailed and grabbed hold of Martha as they exited the genetic manipulation device. After making sure he was steady she went over to check on Professor Lazarus, who was a few meters away on the ground stark naked. While the shorter woman was busy, he was able to take a breath and examine the new changes.
He was able to conclude he was only a couple inches taller than his companion now, at most reaching 5'5". The suit he worn for the special occasion was now barely clinging to him in some areas and too tight in others, normally fitted to his 6'1" stick figure frame. It was something he could work with; he had been shorter in previous regenerations. What was the real shocker were the two moderately sized tumors on his chest.
The Doctor leered at them ('Why were they so heavy', he observed with a glare, trying to find new balance in the form) and instead focused on what he was holding from the glass. It made no sense how the Professor managed to get a hold of what he did. He had extensive questions and refused to leave until they were answered. He turned his attention back to his companion, hoping she was already able to start interrogating the man.
He froze, eyes widening and mouth going slack jaw, when he saw Martha peeking at him in concern as she kneeled to examine the newly deceased body of the only person who would have the answers to why, to bluntly put it, he was now a she.
The Doctor groaned and turned her gaze skyward, letting out a silent curse. No, this night was definitely not going according to plan.
It was when they were watching the medics prepare to take the body away that Martha finally decided to approach the "elephant in the room" topic. She wanted some kind of explanation on what happened, and the only person would could was too busy doing a thorough analysis of their new form. "You seem to be taking this rather well. Haven't gone into shock, have you?"
The Doctor glanced at her, focused on trying to feel around the skin of her upper back under the large suit ('Yes! The mole is still there. Love the mole.') before beaming to her companion. "No, no shock. Unexpected, but not so bad once you get used to the idea." Hands moved from upper to lower back and rear, feeling with scientific interest around the curves she never had.
Martha smacked the woman's wandering hands away from her examination, to which the Doctor pouted at. New body or not, she couldn't let her friend feel herself up in public! Some of the medics were already looking on in interest at the scene. She could already feel the headache coming on, and not from the prior near death situation. ""Unexpected?" You're female now! I'd say it's a tad more than just unexpected."
"You'd be surprised," The taller female mused as hands moved to examine stomach and hips, "It's more rare than uncommon, but Time Lords can occasionally change gender when we go through regeneration. It's just one of our many quirks. S'not the first time I've wondered what being female would be like."
The darker woman paused at the mention of the alien race. Was she really talking about her people without Martha's insistence on the subject? And with not a mention of Rose yet today? She almost dared not to try her luck. "And is regeneration one of your 'many quirks' too?"
The Doctor became more solemn as she stopped her groping and regarded the companion. "Yeah. Something like that. A Time Lord's reward." She scoffed and forced a smile that Martha could tell did not reflect what she felt, "But it's okay, 'cause that's not what happened. I'm still me- just with girl parts."
The woman could tell that was probably as much as she could get out for now, although concerned with the "I'm still me" quote. Whatever regeneration was couldn't mean that much of a change could it? Instead, she focused back to the issue at hand. "That still doesn't explain how you ended up with those parts."
"I think this had to do with it." The Doctor's eyes gleamed as she held out her hand. Resting on it was what appeared to be a large and thick layer of pale skin, lightly covered with what appeared to be a fading golden glow. "How he got it I don't know, but I'd be willing to bet this is Time Lord DNA." She announced with clear and grim certainty. "Every cell of our body is infused with regeneration and chronon energy. Like I said earlier," She clenched tightly to the dermis, "Lazarus took that energy and hacked his own genes. It rejuvenated his cells to regress. But only the Time Lords knew the potential of that energy, and even we didn't dare take chances with it. It's limitless and directly linked to the time vortex, and far too impressive for most to handle; let alone anything from 21st century Earth. The variables are too great to expect one definite outcome."
"So what you're saying is that it corrupted and renewed his cells, and it changed your chromosome structure?" Of course Martha understood the biological side of it (She was training to be an actual doctor) but this kind of change for humans would takes years of treatments, and never get one as complete as this. It all still sounded so alien to her- pun intended.
"Who's to say that's not what happened? The machine was meant to hyper-sonic and morph protein sequences; most everything in the universe have the base building blocks of life." She took a discarded cloth from the floor and wrapped it around the skin before depositing it into a pocket. When they got back to the TARDIS, she could do a full scan.
"But you said there are no other Time Lords. Then how did he get it? If it's so dangerous, I'm assuming it wasn't given up freely."
"No assuming even needed; there's no way any Time Lord would willing give up something like that. Especially to someone with such grandeur delusions." The Doctor looked around as the medics finally toted the Professor's corpse away to the ambulance and event goers started milling back around outside, "Well then. That just leaves us with two questions."
"And what would those be?"
"Like you said, where did Lazarus get this?" She patted the pocket holding the precious material, "You were right. I told you before, in New New York; I'm the last one. All the Time Lords are gone now. There shouldn't be a genetic trace to them left in the universe. And then how is it that the apparent one piece of DNA out there ends up here?" The Doctor gazed down seriously, letting her mind wandering for a moment. 'The Face of Boe did say I'm not alone. But there's no way. They all burned on Gallifrey, I made sure of it…'
"Doctor?" She broke out of her thoughts and glanced back to her companion, "You said two questions."
"Ah." She smirked. Time to will the usual carefree mask back on and make the best out of an odd circumstance. "Well, it's important. And right now, I only trust you to answer it." She gently grabbed hold of the woman's shoulders and leaned in, close enough to see the dark brown pupils dilate. Gazing into her eyes, she gave a large lopsided grin. "So, am I at least a pretty lady?"
The now Time Lady bit her lower lip to keep from snickering at the others reaction; a light pink dazzling her cheeks as she stepped away and started sputtering comically. She could pick up the phrases of "I mean- honestly-" before the shorter woman crossed her arms and stubbornly glared off to the side.
She let out an unrestrained laugh, Martha grumbling with a slight leer from the hilarity of the situation. 'Male or female,' she thought, 'It's definitely still the same Doctor.'
The Doctor, maintaining her pleased look, held out her arm, "Shall we then, Ms. Jones? Wouldn't want your family thinking I kidnapped you."
Martha let out a snort and circled her arm around the other woman's before walking out of the event complex, "The pleasure is all mine. Although you know that kidnapping is basically what happened. Even enticed me with traveling like candy to a child. Maybe I should tell Leo; he'll set you straight."
The gangly woman let out an indignant gasp before bumping shoulders with her and chuckling. "Oi! The cheek of you, I swear. I'll leave you with Shakespeare again!" She crinkled her eyebrows. "No, wait. You both would enjoy that too much. I'll leave you on Raxacoricofallapatorius. Or Clom!"
"You'll leave me where?"
"Martha!" The two look up and see Martha's sister running towards them preparing to give her an exuberant hug, the rest of the Jones family bringing up the rear. "She's here! Oh, she's all right!"
"See? Brought her back, safe and sound." The Doctor beamed at the family, and turned to her companion's mother. "Ah, Mrs. Jones! We still haven't finished our chat."
The Jones family looked at her confused, wondering who this woman with the short haircut and too big clothing was, until Francine's face blanched. "D-Doctor?"
"Sorry, things got a little interesting earlier, but we should be all set—"
A resounding SLAP sounded through the area and her head threw itself sideways from the force. Not as hard as a Jackie Tyler hit, she mused, but still enough that the stinging wouldn't go down anytime soon. "Keep away from my daughter!"
"All of the mothers, every time…" She quietly whined as Francine turned back to her daughters shocked cry.
"Martha, you need to stay away from him." A brief fearful look back at the alien, like she hadn't noticed the obvious change at first. "I've been told things. And how did he change like that? That's not possible! He is dangerous!" She gripped Martha like her life depended on it. "Look around you; nothing but death and destruction."
"This isn't her fault! She saved us, all of us!"
Leo decides to take that chance to step up, ever trying to diffuse tensions, and looks between his sister and mother, sparing the Doctor the occasional glance. "And it was Tish who invited everyone to this thing in the first place. I'd say technically, it's her fault." Said PR representative doesn't even bother batting an eye as she elbowed him hard in the stomach.
The group was startled by a loud crash from the next street over. The Doctor looked over to Martha, trusting she would follow, and then took off as fast as the baggy pants would let her. She wheeled around the corner and saw the ambulance that just took off with Lazarus' body, hit into a pole with the doors wide open.
The more concerning part, as Martha and surprisingly Tish followed closely behind and peered at the ambulance, were the mummified corpses inside the vehicle and dressed in medical insigne jackets. Same way as the Lady Thaw's body looked. "Lazarus, back from the dead. Should have known, really." The irony was not lost upon the Doctor as she uses the sonic to pick up a scan of the area and where their run away zombie might have gone. She nearly rolled her eyes as the sonic pointed them in the direction they needed to go, the towering cathedral creating an ominous shadow in the dark. "Oh, of course he goes in the church. And the implications go on."
"Southwark Cathedral. He mentioned it to me." Tish offhandedly commented, repressing a disgusted shiver as she remembered the flirting they bantered with on the roof (Before realizing Martha meant less Zeta-Jones and more "oh god it's going to kill me" monster type) as the three carefully entered. The cathedral was large and simply done; intricate gray stonework designs built into the walls and archways and making the color of the large paned glass windows shine intensely. An organ was hidden in the corner of the transept under the bell tower, hidden away from the many seats the men in the stained glass judged.
And there, in a huddled mess of skin and red cloth, was the gospel figure himself. He looked over at the trio, strain in his muscles and covered in sweat, and watched them for a moment before turning his gaze downward. "I came here before, a lifetime ago. I thought I was going to die then. I sat here, just a child, the sound of planes and bombs outside."
"The Blitz. I remember." Oh, did the Doctor remember. Hearing the cries of terror from bombs as his ninth incarnation and Rose and Jack had tried to help a poor little boy who only wanted his mummy. The last time that, just for once, everybody lived.
"You're too young."
"So are you."
Lazarus let out a bark of laughter, before closing his eyes and grunting from the pain of his bones trying to morph back into the hideous shape. While distracted, the Doctor glanced at the companion beside her. "I have an idea, but we need to get him up top the bell tower," She spoke quietly and nodded upwards, "He's going to change any minute. We need to make this quick." Martha nodded, and they gazed back at the professor, breathing heavily and pulling the cloth tighter around himself.
"It's okay," The Doctor speaks softly, like she's calming a cornered animal. "I understand. It's very human to want to be young forever, to avoid death. But you can't run forever."
To this he sneers at her, "And what do you know of running, Doctor? I've been running from death all my life. And this is what I get for trying a little longer. I may be a monster, but at least I'm alive."
Her eyes glaze over. She knew far too well about running, but now was not the time for that. "Yeah, 'suppose you are," She glances down at her new form. "So how about you be a good lad and tell me about how you managed to get what changed us both. Not something found on the black market, that's for sure."
"Hah! Every genius needs a sponsor; mine just happened to know exactly what I required." He held a breath as his muscles prickled before slowly exhaling. "They were very willing to fund my ambitions and spare no expense. All they wanted me to do was change the sample structures genetic coding just the slightest bit. Looking at you, it makes sense now," He leaned forward, "You're not entirely human either, are you Doctor?"
She was careful to keep a neutral expression as she circled him. "And how do you figure that?"
"My sponsor has their sources. They suggested by changing the chromosomes, it should not change the overall regression process that would work for the human race. It would only mutate the original source in that way. It's obvious the sample I received was in no way found on Earth; not with all the energy and the triple helix in the DNA." He smirked at her. "And it didn't regress you. It changed you, just as they thought it would to the source. Interesting how adjusting those three helix and changing Y's to X work so effectively, if you were a simple human."
"So maybe I'm not," She knelt down to stare him in the eye. "But at least today I'm not the monster. So please, let me help you. Tell me who your sponsor is- we can fix you."
A savage crack filled the air and Lazarus convulsed. He managed to grit out, "I don't want to be fixed! Not when I am so close." She got up and backed away, knowing what was about to happen. "As for my sponsor, he has a tremendous interest in you. One would say you have quite the secret admirer."
Before she could question him more (because how can someone know that much about her and regeneration energy and she has a fan?), he jumped up and made to lunge at her. She's ready to side-step and pull out her sonic in some form of a getaway, until she hears Martha call at Lazarus and suddenly he's changing and charging after the two other females up the stairs of the bell tower. 'Not completely according to plan,' she figures as she rushes to the organ loft, sticking the screwdriver into the power control and starting it up, 'But we can improvise.'
And then the Doctor hears the women screaming at the top of the tower and sees Lazarus trying to fit himself across the gap and Martha about ready to lose her grip on the wooden beams and fall, so she starts to play. The amplified power of the sonic and sound from the organ play at rises up to reach the trio, and she can only just hear the screams.
Her hearts skip a beat when something falls to the cathedral floor with a sickening crash, but sighs in relief when she cautiously peers over the rail and only sees wooden debris and the body of Richard Lazarus. 'Properly dead this time,' she notes bitterly, wishing for less death and more information from the events. But all in all, today was a success.
She turns her gaze upwards and shouts to the sisters to make sure they're alright. Martha cries back, "We're both okay!" It's obvious they're having a family moment when all she can hear after is quiet murmuring, so the Doctor leans back, closes her eyes, and just breathes.
"So, that was fun." They're back in Martha's home later that night, refreshed after the events of the evening. The Doctor, still very much feminine, is propped against the TARDIS with a gleaming smirk. "Escalated a bit more than I would have thought, but at least it wasn't boring."
"Nothing with you is ever is, is it?" The shorter woman chuckled and shook her head fondly. Female or not, the Doctor was still as ridiculous as ever. She had stubbornly dressed back in the usual brown pinstripe, even though the jacket went to her knees and the pants were holding on by a hair. She looked like a child playing dress up with her father's clothes. At this, Martha's smile tightened. "So then, have you figured out how to fix this yet?"
She knew it was the same person, but the darker woman did miss the tall and mysterious man she met in the hospital. She wasn't impartial, as this body was "a very pretty lady", but she was still unsure of how to exactly feel about the new development.
"No, I haven't," She let out a long sigh, "I don't want regenerate for a bit of vanity, and I don't know if there is a way to do it again without the genetic manipulator. The machine's kaput. There's no way I can tell what was used to change the sample." She patted the cotton of her jacket pocket absentmindedly. "It's almost useless now. I'll do another scan on board, but then I'll burn it. Energy or none, we still wouldn't want this getting into the wrong hands again."
"So… you're stuck this way?"
"Seems like it, for now at least." What was left of the gangly females grin slowly faded, "Does that bother you?"
Had her mouth been curter she would have made a sarcastic and snide comment, probably about why the Doctor would be stupid enough to think that. Luckily, she was able to stop herself and noted something… off.
The shifting from leg to leg, a slight curl of shoulders turning inward, the discrete fidgeting of her hands, biting of the lower lip, the crestfallen gleam in her eyes like she already knew what her companion would say; like she had this reaction in a different time and place…
The Doctor had been broken. Somehow she had changed before, and someone she cared about hadn't accepted her. Not right away, at least; she was too amazing for anyone to turn away from completely. She could already tell the alien female was probably thinking of a certain someone whose name began with an "R", but she wondered if there had been others. How many times had the Doctor changed, only to be hurt in the end?
Midway through her musings, she noticed the Doctor had been rambling without her paying attention. "- and I don't know if I can change back, and the TARDIS would be lonely if you left, but if you want to go home that's your decision. Although I've thought that we can do something fun and your choice this Saturday to make up for the event-"
"No."
The Doctor gazed sharply at her, as if Martha had just kicked a puppy. "Okay," she exhaled, moving toward the TARDIS door. "I'll just… leave you to it then."
"Doctor," She grabbed the others sleeve tightly, "I mean no. As in it doesn't bother me. You're fine. Odd and a bit eccentric," She grinned as the smallest bit of hope returned to the Doctor's eyes, "but still you."
The two stared at each other for what felt like infinity, the Time Lady attempting to comprehend the admission and genuine smile on her companion's face, and then beamed so brilliantly it would put whole constellations to shame.
"Martha Jones, you amazing thing." She placed her hand on Martha's and squeezed it gently, emotion blazing in her expression. "Thank you."
And when she looked up into the pupils of the taller woman, that hopeful brown squinting in the corners from how wide her grin was, Martha couldn't tell if her heart was racing so swiftly she couldn't feel it or if it had promptly stopped. She had made the Doctor look like that. Not Rose, but her.
'Oh no,' Martha realized, 'she's really cute.'
And just like that, the Doctor pranced inside the TARDIS and she was left grasping air.
"So, what do you say?" The voice from inside the police box yells out to her, "One more trip?"
As she stood there staring at her hand, Martha realized something. 'To hell with that.' she thought and went to stand at the door to watch the mad woman dance around the console. "No, sorry." The Doctor stopped her flailing around and looked at her, "These "one more trips" aren't exactly fair. I don't just want to be a passenger or someone you take for a treat-"
"Okay." The Time Lady crossed her arms and chuckled at the shock crossing her companion's face, "Well, you never really were just a passenger, were you?"
The Doctor and Martha shared a smile and the human steps in and slams the blue door tightly behind her. The familiar whooshing of the TARDIS dematerialized into the fabric of space and time sounds over the phone call of a concerned mother, with information and warnings of the Doctor from an interested party.
AN: Ooooh an interested party? Wonder who THAT could be. As if we didn't all watch season three. Maybe it could be some important character having to do with the plot or something. Oh golly gee.
Speaking of plot, what do you guys want? Do you want every episode as a chapter? Do you want original stories? Do you want longer or shorter chapters? I wanna know how to invest myself in for the long haul. And don't worry; it will follow the overall timelines and transcripts of the seasons, but I do have some twists to change it up. I've never heard the Prose or read the comics, so maybe I'll look and add reference to those. Maybe a new companion? Maybe a love interest? Maybe I'll kill everyone off? Who knows; that's the joy of being an author. Even I don't know what I'm doing.
In other news, Martha Jones deserves more credit than she gets and I will fight anyone who says otherwise.