Title: Never Lost but Found (1/2)
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Martha/Doctor, Martha/Jack
Spoilers: Post S4; The Journey's End
Summary: It's been a couple of months since the Daleks invasion but Martha's slowly losing her grip on her sanity and possibly her humanity.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or Doctor Who or Torchwood. I wish I did, but I don't.
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Martha wasn't thinking.
No. There was no way she could have done this without thinking. She didn't pack, just kept what she had on. Her cell phone was tucked into her back pockets of her jeans as she kept only what were left of her humanity.
Under her eyes, there was the slight indication of not much sleep. Nightmares. She didn't discuss it; she hid it like she always does. Her shoulders ached, she felt as if she carried the entire world there (and she had twice). She felt a sense of relief for a brief period when she climbed into the driver's seat of the car, sitting there for what seemed like long moments. It was almost three in the morning, dark, but even still, she could feel his presence around her.
It was haunting her.
She didn't know where she was heading to. She had to get away. That was the plan; get far from her neighborhood, her home, her normal state like life.
It's around ten in the morning when her cell rings. Martha recognizes the number; Tish.
A little after twenty minutes, another phone call…Francine, her mother. Martha ached to pick up and answer, but did not. It continued to vibrate in the passenger's seat. Ten thirty passes around and it's Leo.
It's been almost a couple of months since she saw that sky full of planets. It was a while since she had set eyes on Donna, Sarah Jane, even Rose. It felt longer towards the Doctor.
A couple of weeks had passed when she found herself among Mickey and Jack. Torchwood was back into her life again, her only source of regaining who she was to become, not what she was beginning to lose.
Tears had started to form from Martha's eyes as continued on her journey.
She felt alone. She was alone. Tom hadn't returned back into her life. Was it him that she missed the most? His smile, his charming behavior, and her only source to regain stability? She didn't know. She was confused about everything. Who she was turning into, what she was losing, what she was trying to gain? It wasn't like a couple of days after the invasion; everything could go back to where they were.
She wouldn't admit she never got over the Year that never was.
As her vehicle slowed down behind a few others, she clenched her chest, right above where her heart began to ache.
Not again, was her thought.
When she set foot in Cardiff again, the first face she saw was Mickey. He looked so happy, so joyous to be alive, to see her once again. They hugged briefly, and felt a presence she hadn't felt in so long. It wasn't Ianto or Gwen, though she missed them so. And admittedly, she missed Tosh and Owen the most.
But all he had to do was clear his voice and give a small salute.
She missed him.
He missed her.
There was that spark of chemistry that wasn't left behind between them. Feeling his arms around her, she almost felt as if she was at home. He told her that she was home. At least for a short period of time, anyway.
She began to work with Torchwood once again, until they could get back onto their feet again. It wasn't a favor; it was more like a wish that had been granted. Jack had wanted her to return previous times before everything had came to a head, but between UNIT and her family, she declined many times. So what was different about this time?
It was Jack.
He would show up unannounced in the middle of the night, comforting her. Sometimes with his words, with his touch, but it was with his lips that gave her the most comfort. It started off pretty innocent, if you can believe that. It was small hugs, little coy winks here and there. There was a time when they were under attack where he kissed her with so much passion, a hint of greediness involved.
He told her he could give her what she needed, what they both needed.
And she took it.
Martha's only thinking of the word "go."
The radio continued to play in the background, there's some song that reminds her of the Doctor and she snarls under her breath, immediately changing the station. It seems to be that the world must be against her as she starts to see small insignificant things that remind her of him.
A stander-by wearing a pair of black Chuck Taylor's almost made her cry.
No, Martha, don't even think of him. Martha was speaking to herself.
What was happening to herself?
She was going to crack like a small China like doll.
Eventually, Martha finds herself quite far from where she wanted to be. It was crowded, loud, and the tea tasted almost bitter to her. She forgot she loved tea. She didn't drink it anymore.
Its official: Martha was a walking zombie.
Martha feels herself tighten in her own sleep as she felt something tugging at her soul. She felt as if she couldn't breathe. She gasped for breath and her lifeline was slipping away.
She had failed.
She was dying.
It was all her fault.
And then, she woke up, jerking against the body that lay behind her. His arms tightened before his hands moved up her upper arms. "Another nightmare?" was the question.
She could only nod against him.
"Martha…" His voice was at a whisper in her ear. It sent tingles down her spine. Jack was filling that empty void that she had missing for a long time. "Martha, look at me." He had almost said in a demanding like voice. Her body twisted around and over to her other side, looking into his eyes.
"I want to help you, but I can't if you can't tell me what's going on."
"I don't even know what's going on." Was all she could say before she felt his lips pressing against her softly, briefly, and be taken away into another night of passion for the third time that night.
She couldn't feel emotions anymore. They were drained of her that night when things seemed to return to normal. It plagues her. She couldn't focus at work. Her duties as being a doctor almost made her feel robotic when she stitched up a patient. No welcoming smile, no goodbye, just a simple nod.
The night came quicker than she thought.
10 missed calls total.
She wasn't ready to face them. She wasn't ready to face herself when she saw her reflection in a cheap hotel's mirror.
She looked skinnier. Her hair was growing, but she kept it wrapped in a tight bun all the time, she never noticed. It wasn't iher/i.
She spent many hours crying on the bathroom floor. She held onto her arms as she cried out her tears. She cried for her family, for Jack, for Mickey, for the Doctor, but not herself. Stuck in a position of a crouched down, rocking motion, her cries were almost invisible to the thunderstorm outside.
"Where are you?!" Martha didn't wince at the voice on the other line.
"Jack…"
"You know your mother had to find my number and made me call you since you are not good at picking up your phone." Jack sounded a bit angry but relieved.
"Jack, I couldn't stay. I had to leave."
"Why didn't you tell me? We're all worried sick about you. I love you." Martha's heart should have skipped a beat at that confession, but it didn't.
"I know you do," she paused; she couldn't repeat those words right back at him. Not yet. "But I will return in due time. Tell my family that I'm okay, that I'm alright." It was almost a plea, an urge to get him to tell them.
"I will." The line clicked and ended.
Wearing the same clothes as the day before, she was sitting in front of the bed on the floor. The large window of the room was wide open and she continued to stare out the window from her spot.
On the television was a mention of the Dalek invasion, a short spot on the news.
The volume was down but she could feel what they were discussion. This was not over.
It rained again.
The second time in a row, it rained again, and Martha had no umbrella. Her clothes and hair began to get drenched as she walked among the crowds in the streets. She didn't stick out like a sore thumb, but some wondered if she even cared she was getting wet. And she didn't.
And then, a slight shift in the air.
Interrupted in her whirlwind of thoughts, she noticed that it wasn't raining on her anymore. Confused, she looked at the body walking along with her. It started from the bottom and then up. Trench coat, brown suit chosen with a pair of white converse sneakers and ihe/i stopped her.
"Martha Jones," he said, it was so quietly spoken, but she heard it.
It must be another hallucination, another dream because her heart stopped beating for a moment.