Dead Eyes See No Future
A low hum pulsated around the Tardis as it continued on its steady way across the vast network of galaxies. The Doctor was piloting the ship, stood at the console with his thick-rimmed glasses perched upon his nose. He appeared to flick switches and turn knobs meaninglessly, but Martha Jones knew otherwise. Reclining in one of the console seats, she was staring at a fixated spot on the ceiling. A finger continuously worked about a long strand of hair, twist and coiling repetitively. The soothing sounds of the Tardis easily put Martha into a daydream, and today was no exception.
That was until the Tardis gave an almighty shake, throwing Martha out of her seat. She landed heavily against the console, lightly winded. "What was that?" she gasped, seeing the Doctor staring at the monitor in bemusement. "Are we landing?"
"No, we're 700 years away from any habitable terrain."
There was another shudder, much more violent this time and Martha had to cling onto the console tightly to stop herself from hitting the floor. "It's bad enough running out of petrol on the motorway.." she muttered, shaking hair out of her face.
"The energy output is fine," the Doctor insisted, continuing to hurriedly work at the control panel in a bid to stabilise the spacecraft. It was rumbling violently now, the noise growing louder by the second. Out of the corner of her eye, Martha saw the Doctor's face turn stricken in alarm. "It's a black hole!" he cried, before the Tardis lurched aggressively, knocking both of them off their feet. With a cry Martha felt her head smack against one of the organic beams, followed by a second crack as the back of her skull hit the metal flooring.
Her vision turned distorted, the roof of the Tardis a mere blur of light and colour. She vaguely heard the Doctor scrambling back to his feet before she felt the sickly visual disturbances fade into a dark void.
Her return to consciousness felt almost instantaneous, though she awoke to find the Doctor hovering above her, and talking as though they were already in conversation. "What?" asked Martha groggily, blinking slowly as she tried to calm the torrent inside her head.
The Doctor calmly stopped her from lifting her head, continuing to talk. "But you're right, after all. Anyway, it didn't take all that long."
"What are you talking about?" she whispered weakly, wishing he wouldn't be so random; especially after she had suffered a blow to the head. It was hard enough to keep on track when she was fully functioning.
"Are you sure you're alright?" the Doctor asked warily, eyeing her uncertainly.
Not being aware she had already declared herself as 'alright', Martha gave him a dubious look. "I'll be fine," she answered eventually, keeping her head still on the floor now. Just until her head settled. Noticing his concerned expression hovering over her, she couldn't help but spread a gentle smile. There were worse things to wake up to.
Martha began to doubt her summarisation of her wellbeing when she felt her vision becoming suspiciously unfocused. She made a blind reach upward for the Doctor, feeling the warmth of his fingers meeting hers only seconds before blackness surrounded her once more.
Again, she roused almost immediately, but this time, she wasn't in the Tardis. Feeling instantly anxious, she gripped tightly to the nearest item. Her eyes cleared on a familiar sight, and she stared, completely dumbfounded to find herself sat in her apartment. Martha slowly released her fingers from the couch she was sat upon, straightening slowly and staring about the room. What was even more bizarre was the fact the majority of her belongings were in cardboard boxes, in the process of being packed.
"Doctor?" she called, voice echoing eerily around the empty apartment. "Doctor?" she tried again, louder, with more fear in her tone.
Despite the fact she knew she was home, in her apartment, she didn't know where she was. How could she be laid on the Tardis floor one minute then find herself in her apartment the next? More to the point, why did she look like she was halfway through moving out? She stood slowly, as though expecting something bad to happen if she moved to heavily. "This is not normal," she insisted to herself, though couldn't help but smile wryly. One wouldn't call her life normal, not after the places she'd been, and the people she had met.
Carefully, she pressed forward towards one of the boxes, lifting the worn lids to see her kitchenware thoroughly wrapped in bubble wrap to protect them in transit. "It's almost like I've skipped forward.." she said to herself aloud. "Oh, God, of course!" she cried, almost knocking over the box as her hands threw upward to hold her head. They had been nearing a black hole, a black hole was a void where time and space no longer correlated, where it was ripped apart and jumbled and destroyed.
After being with the Doctor on his time-jumping adventures, it wasn't hard to summarise that her own personal dimension had been somehow corrupted as they neared the black hole. "He'll fix it," she decided with a firm nod. After all, he was a Time Lord, this was one of his many areas of expertise. Though in the back of her mind, she bitterly recalled his words when he invited her aboard the Tardis.
"Crossing into established events is strictly forbidden. Except for cheap tricks."
And Martha was pretty sure this wasn't a cheap trick. This was serious. Very serious. She had missed out on a large portion of her life, long enough in which she had finished her travels with the Doctor and somehow accumulated enough money to be able to move house. Martha wasn't going to allow herself to lose her head though, she had to remain rooted in her belief that the Doctor would put the situation right. He would know that something had gone wrong.
Wouldn't he?
Feeling a sickly sensation come over her, Martha quickly backtracked towards the sofa. Her head became distinctly light-headed. With a surge of panic she realised she was going to black out again, but despite how much she tried to hold onto the present reality, she felt herself slipping, and could only hope that she was returned to the Tardis.
Eyes shot open once more. The sofa material of a couch remained beneath her, though she wasn't in her apartment any longer. She slowly looked around a tastefully decorated living room; briefly scared she was in someone's house and was going to have to explain her awkward arrival. But that wasn't the end of the surprises. Just as she tried to sit up, she found it startlingly difficult to do so. That was when, with a choked gasp, did she realise her abdomen lay suspiciously swelled below her attire.
"Oh my God," she whispered quietly, now feeling more terrified than she had done since hitting her head in the Tardis. It had happened again, she had skipped forward in time, and now found herself bearing a heavily pregnant stomach. She felt strangely detached from the situation, like she was being a part of someone else's life. Because this wasn't hers, at least, not the one she knew.
She couldn't help her eyes welling with tears as she sat there on a couch, in the unfamiliar surroundings, bearing a pregnancy she couldn't remember conceiving. "Doctor!" she shouted loudly, once again only hearing her voice echo around the silent room. Her head fell into her hands as she quietly moaned in the futility of the situation.
The sudden sound of running footsteps quickly caused her to throw her head back, eyes whirling on the door as it slammed open. But instead of the Doctor, a panicked looking Tish ran inside. "You need a doctor?" she cried, almost falling over the magazine rack as she hurried to Martha's side.
Mouth agape, Martha burst into a fresh flow of tears as she grabbed Tish in a tight hug, sobbing into her shoulder. Bemused, Tish held onto her sister tightly, patting her back soothingly. "It's ok.." she whispered softly. "Do you want me to ring for an ambulance?"
"N-no.." Martha said quietly, shaking her head against Tish's cheek.
"You're bound to be emotional," said Tish unnecessarily as she smoothed Martha's hair.
Pulling back, Martha slowly wiped the tears from her cheek. "It feels so weird," she muttered.
"I know.. I know," said Tish, sitting back and watching her sister's face carefully.
Martha sighed quietly, her hands tightly holding onto her sister's. The situation didn't feel quite so dire now she had Tish here. "This isn't supposed to be happening," she muttered under her breath, giving her head a small shake.
"Look, Martha, we've said all along that we're all here to support you. We will always be here to help you bring up this baby. You won't be on your own."
Martha almost opened her mouth to ask who the father was, but realised how ridiculous that would sound to her sister. Instead, she managed a weak grimace of a smile and nodded her head graciously. She jumped a little when she felt a strange sensation from within her abdomen. Medical knowledge told her that was too harsh to be a baby's kick, so much so that when it happened again her hands tightened abruptly around Tish's.
"Martha, are you ok?" her sister asked quickly.
"Yeah," Martha insisted quietly, hoping with every bit of her heart that she wasn't about to experience what she thought she was. However, luck hadn't been on her side so far, and it most certainly wasn't now, as she felt another contraction grip her abdomen, and she clung onto her sister painfully. "Argh.."
But Tish wasn't wasting anymore time. "Right, that's it, we're going to the hospital. I know it was a false alarm last week, but you can never be too careful. Come on, I'll help you up, hold on tight." Positioning herself closer, Tish carefully supported Martha by the elbows, easing her onto her feet. With this aid, Martha was able to walk a few steps across the living room before she stopped, and this time experienced the distinct feeling of her waters breaking.
"Oh, God," Martha moaned quietly, going weak at the knees as she clung into her sister.
"It's ok, it's ok," insisted Tish as she tightened her grip about Martha. She knew she had to keep a level head for her sister's sake. "We'll just walk carefully to the car and we can phone Mum and Dad on the way."
Nodding, Martha managed a quiet, "Ok.." as she was led along step by step. The whole experience left her feeling sick and light headed and she wanted nothing more than to lie down on the couch and wish the whole situation away. Her fingernails digged into the skin of her sister's arm as she felt her legs weakening and with a faint gasp, felt her entire world pool into blackness.
Martha's hand gripped hard on a cool surface to steady herself, vision slowly clearing to find herself staring down at a kitchen worktop. A few seconds later, the toaster to her right popped out two slices, causing her to jump in fright.
"It's only toast," came a teasing tone, and Martha whirled round to see a teenager walking into the kitchen, setting his bag down on the floor. "You ok?" he then added, eyeing her.
Martha only managed to mouth silently for a moment as she took in the appearance of what could only been the baby she had been expecting. Now, he looked to be nearing sixteen years old. He had a tall, lanky frame, with black hair short to his head. Face held a distinctive sculpt, housing deep brown eyes that Martha had stared into many times. She grabbed the worktop again as she felt her legs go. She would never, ever be able to fully comprehend the fact the boy before her bore features of the Doctor.
Right now, she refused to believe such a thing, and so quietly asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "Where's your father?"
The instant she said it she wished she hadn't, for his face contorted with a concerned frown and he quickly closed the distance between them. "Mum, are you sure you're alright?"
"Of course I am," she answered quietly, still staring into his face. "Why?"
He looked discomfited. "You know I've never met my dad." With Martha still staring at him, with no clear recognition, he persisted in his concern. "You have a picture of him," he insisted, moving across the kitchen towards the handbag on the nearby table. Out of it, he procured a leather purse, which he carried towards Martha and extended to her. "You said you didn't know where he is."
Carefully, Martha took the purse offered, slowly opening the clasp. Within, behind a clear plastic window was an aged photograph. Despite it's small nicks and tears from constant handling, there was no denying the fact it was a picture of the Doctor, grinning as cheekily as ever. He appeared to be stood within the Tardis, though it wasn't completely clear to make out.
"Hadn't you better be getting to the hospital?" her son asked quietly, breaking the silence awkwardly.
Martha snapped the purse shut, staring at the boy. "Hospital? No, I don't need a hospital."
"I mean to work," he said, looking rather scared. "Mum, you seem really forgetful this morning."
"Oh, I just bumped my head," Martha explained quickly. "It's going off now."
He didn't seem completely satisfied with the answer, but he nodded his head. "If you say so. Can you drop me off at school on the way?"
"Yeah, of course.." said Martha, stepping aside as he went to grab the toast out of the toaster, taking a few bites as he made his way out of the kitchen. Following, Martha grabbed her handbag off the table and stuffed her purse back inside, unable to get the face on the photograph out of her head. It made absolutely no sense. She must have missed a lot of travelling with the Doctor for this to have happened. Whilst she did feel attracted to him, rather strongly, she would have never have anticipated a child.
But, she realised sadly as she opened the front door of her home, the Doctor had not returned to Earth with her to look after the child. If he even knew about it. She sighed as she locked the door automatically. It was mind numbing to try and decipher the time-skipping phases, and she knew she just had to keep acting as normal as she could, and just hope that out there, wherever he was, the Doctor was, he was trying to fix the problem.
Getting into the car on the driveway (which she noticed, with amusement, that it was electric,) she watched her son from his side profile. There was no doubt about it that he was the Doctor's son, what with the slight hook of his nose and the gaunt slope of his cheeks.
Reversing out of the driveway, Martha began driving in what she hoped was towards his school. She stuck to her route towards the Royal Hope Hospital, and hoped that she was going in the right direction. At least she could blame it on her supposed short-term memory loss if she was going the wrong way.
Coming to a halt at the traffic lights, Martha glanced out at the goings on of London. Over a century on, there were different dress styles, newer cars, and more shops. But all in all, it still had the distinctive stamp of London. As the lights turned green, she set off across the junction. She only had time to glance out of the window to hear her son's scream as a car raced through the red light, smashing into his car door. Martha felt her entire world jerk roughly, her head smacking against the glass window as the car skidded across the road. She didn't have time to comprehend the suddenness of the crash when she felt herself sink into unconsciousness.
Vision returning, Martha could faintly hear the beeping of a monitor, and wondered if she had been brought into hospital after the crash. Her eyes opening completely, her vision was still not entirely clear. Sitting up, she peered around her blearily, making out the blurred outlines of people walking past her. From what she could see, she was in a hospital ward. One of the nearest figures she could identify, a young woman in a nurse's outfit. Upon noticing that Martha had woken up, she smiled warmly. "Good evening, Miss Jones," she greeted warmly, coming round the side of the bed and passing her glasses.
Bemused, Martha put the glasses on, her vision instantly clearing. It was then she caught sight of her hands – old and wrinkled. She quickly looked up at the nurse. "Where's my son?"
The nurse frowned at Martha, gently patting the back of her withered hand in comforting manner. "I'm afraid your son died in a car accident over forty years ago," she explained rather nervously, her eyes scanning Martha's face.
Martha's throat suddenly felt dry, feeling the warmth of her body vanish as though someone had stabbed her with this shocking information. It had to have been the very crash she just witnessed, in which the bonnet of the offender's car had hit her son's passenger door..
Frowning, she glanced aside, noticing a large bouquet of flowers on the hospital cabinet besides her. "Who are they from?" she asked quietly.
"Your nephew and nieces," said the nurse with a gentle smile, releasing Martha's hand. "I'm just going to go and fetch the doctor for a check up," she then added, evidently concerned about Martha forgetting her son's death. The word 'doctor' instantly grabbed her attention, and Martha quickly turned her head to watch the nurse retreat. She had an excited skip to her heart, though knew that it was very unlikely she would see the Doctor here. In this place, she would only see the medical kind.
Sighing, she leant her head back into the pillow, absently watching the sterile environment that looked so different from the hospital she had worked at. Over sixty years on, the hospital was a completely different place to be. She let her eyes close quietly, overcome with the weakness of her elderly form. As she lay in her hospital bed, drifting off, she very faintly heard the familiar whooshing engine of the materialising Tardis. Her head shot up, thinking she was simply hearing things. But she was fully awake now, and the distinct sound was still echoing into the ward.
Wasting no time, she pushed herself to the edge of the bed, tearing off the assortment of wires that attached to her body. Stumbling to her feet, she moved as fast as her older body would permit, but there was a reason she was bed-ridden. She could barely walk, clutching tightly into the edge of the bed. She breathed out steadily, face determined as she set off hurriedly, following the sounds of the Tardis. Exiting the ward, one the nurses spun round in horror to find that Martha had freed herself from the medical equipment.
"Miss Jones! Those machines are keeping you alive!" But Martha ignored the woman's cries, solely focused on reaching the Doctor. He would take her home, return her to her real life, to her reality.
Stumbling out onto the street, Martha stared round at the dark road, occasional street lamps dotted along the pavement. At the end of the street, under one of the lamps, stood the Tardis. Martha persevered onward, ignoring the pain in her legs as she pushed her weakened body onward. The closer the Tardis came, the closer she felt to home. The cold air was stinging in the back of her throat, breath of which was becoming harder to take in. She was only a short distance from the Tardis when her balance gave out, and she collapsed into the empty road with a cry. She winced quietly as she tried to push herself upward, but it was a futile attempt as she fell back down.
There was a quiet crunch of the ground, followed by a warm hand against her own. She slowly opened her eyes to see familiar red Converse on the tarmac besides her. Her gaze followed the crouched body upwards until her gaze met the Doctor's. Tears freely broke as she stared up at him, "Doctor.." she whispered quietly, her hand tightening about his. "What's happening to me?"
"You're dying," came the soft reply, his hand remaining about her own as he gazed down at her with a solemn face. He looked exactly the same as he always did.
Infuriated, Martha responded sharply. "I'm not dying!"
"You're 87 years old and now you're dying."
"I'm not!" she cried tearfully, "I'm 23! I'm 23 years old!" Her chest heaved with sobs as she lay there, back against the cold, dirty road. Her only comfort was the face she had been longing to see again. Her weathered hand tightly clasped his, shaking weakly. Slowly, she felt her vision darkening on all sides, the young face of the Doctor fading from view as blackness overcame her once more, but this time into death.
Eyes flew open to find the Tardis roof above her, and an almighty throb drumming about her head. The metal below her head rattlled loudly as the Doctor ran over to her. "Martha! Are you alright?"
"What?" she asked, staring about her.
"Your head," he said, leaning in to carefully feel where she had hit the beam of the spaceship. "You were unconscious for a few seconds."
Martha couldn't help but give a small laugh, utterly delighted to find herself back on the Tardis floor. "It felt a lot longer than that."
Bemused at her laughter, the Doctor watched her uncertainly. "What is it?"
"Hold on, what about the black hole?"
The Doctor dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "I pulled us away from it. My people practically invented black holes."
"Oh," she said quietly, still finding herself staring at him. "Because.. something strange happened." Slowly sitting up, she proceeded to explain what had happened to the Doctor, feeling her tears return at several points. She carefully left out important details like who the father of her child was, but was comforted in a tight embrace when she said that her son had died. Content to sit like this, she lay quietly in his arms, her eyes closed as she listened to the steady hum of the Tardis. The familiar sounds of the craft, and the distinct scent of the Doctor were the things that convinced her that she was finally back home again.
An idea that came upon me whilst watching an episode of Doctor Who. Also partly inspired by the film Click. Please review!