A/N: Well lookie here, me first fanfic. Maiden voyage. Out of my hastily scribbled notebooks and scraps of paper and onto this boredom banishing website. Please be kind, but if you can't be kind, then at least be constructive! I wrote this after "42" so there are definite references, but I think it could work after "Human Nature" and "Family of Blood," if you disregard those piddly references. All let all-a-youse be the judge. And yes I know its a bit angsty, but I just felt like the whole Rose thing needed to be addressed for Martha's sake. And I like sad/broody Doctor almost as much as I like silly-drunk-necktie-around-his head-banana brandishing Doctor….man did that sentence get away from me. ANYhoo!
Oh and no, I don't own the Doctor, nor anypart of the Dr. Who series…...but man do I wish I owned a Tardis.
Ch. 1
The Tardis was still. It was the one thing oddly enough that Martha Jones had trouble reconciling with in her new room on the Tardis. The rushing about and the fast paced time trotting she experienced thus far with the Doctor, she had adapted to. Just one race after another. She had taken it for granted, so when the Doctor told her that their next trip would take a little longer, she assumed that the pace inside the Tardis would be more of the same...then he showed her to a bedroom.
"Occasionally travel on the Tardis is more like sailing a ship, have to consider winds and currents, tacks and depths, hoisting various things and...er, scurvy…...anyway, quite complicated," the Doctor had rambled by way of explanation to Martha. "Soooo, here you are: first class cabin. I know you haven't had much sleep and it will take about 6 hours or so," he had spoke rapidly, trying to cover Martha's protests. He strode across the comfortable and well furnished room to another door. "Bathroom complete with sonic shower - very soothing. And there's a wardrobe with odds and ends. I showed you the larger wardrobe, yes? So if anything doesn't fit here, you'll be able to find something there. Anything else you need but can't find, simply ask the console on the wall and the Tardis will try to find it. Except for lemons, for some reason, she always confuses ordinary Earth lemons with Blurgien leekmond beetles. Definitely NOT same!" he grinned, "So! If you'll excuse me, I too am feeling the effects of the past couple of days and shall retire to my own humble quarters." He had ended his speech with a deep dramatic bow and had started to turn heel and leave when Martha shook herself from her stunned silence and managed a brief and confused, "What?"
The Doctor turned, equally perplexed. "Hmm? Sorry? tired-everything you need at fingertips-exhausted-retire for six or seven hours…?"
Martha smiled at the way his hair seemed to spike even higher when he raised both eyebrows and wrinkled his forehead. "No, I just mean, well, what if something happens, shouldn't we, er you, be monitoring something or calibrating a thingy?" Her voice ran out of excuses to keep him captive.
The Doctor waved a hand dismissively, "Nonsense, very little of that Star-Trekky-tekkie business needed with the Tardis once its got a course laid in. All thingies are finely tuned and all doohickies are monitoring the whatcha-ma-callits. If anything goes wrong, she'll let me know." He put his hands in his pockets and rocked forward slightly, "So if you don't need anything? Splendid! Goodnight Martha my Dear!"
Two hours had passed since the Doctor turned heel and left Martha Standing alone and bewildered in her new room. 'Was this how it was always going to be with him,' she wondered, 'two steps forward, three back?' Every-time she thought she got a little closer to the real Doctor or anytime they had a small moment of friendship, the Doctor either became entirely too cheerful or talkative, leaving Martha shut out in the cold again. Each time Martha felt keenly aware of the ghostlike presence of the other woman. Rose.
Martha was not naive, she knew her place in these adventures was as the rebound girl. Just someone to have along to make the loss and emptiness more bearable. After the great living and vengeful sun had tried to burn the Doctor from the inside and kill everyone with him, Martha hoped she had gained a bit more trust and respect. The big relieved bear hug when they were safe had seemed like the first truly genuine thing between them. And then her own key to the Tardis?
Martha knew she had a tendency to fall hard for guys, but after that, she couldn't ignore just how much her feelings had deepened for the Doctor. While the excitement and adventure were intoxicating, but the flip side was becoming so harsh of a contrast she wasn't sure if she could handle it.
She was far too wired to sleep in all this stillness and quiet. She tried the sonic shower, but she couldn't figure out the proper setting for all the different lights and humming noises to make it relaxing. She then occupied herself with exploring the new wardrobe, but she was too distracted to be very creative and settled on jeans and a small nondescript black T-shirt.
The jeans felt like relaxed and soft men's jeans and were only a little baggy on her slim hips and long legs. It did get her to thinking though, the jeans couldn't have possibly belonged to the Doctor, well not in this form anyway. She knew his last companion was a woman. It suddenly hit her how little she actually knew of the Doctor and his past and she shivered slightly. She briefly looked at the other odds and ends in the wardrobe: scarves, lacy ties, unknown military coats, exotic skirts and dresses, as well as common and innocuous 20th century T-shirts, jumpers, and trainers. All must have been acquired somewhere/when or someone had left them here. It was so easy during all their crazy and unbelievable travels around time and space to think that she, Martha Jones, was special. That she was experiencing things that no one else had ever seen or dreamt of. Then the reality would hit her unexpectedly and with full force. She was not entirely unique.
The Doctor had taken perhaps countless others along similarly outrageous escapades once before. And there she was again, like a whisper of a breeze, Rose. She was the only one Martha knew by name and the only one whose absence the Doctor seemed to feel the most. Even now, even after the SS Pentallian and all the screams and tears, hugs and gifts for Martha, she could still sense the Doctor's grief over Rose.
Martha sighed and hugged herself in the stifling silence and did as she always did in these moments of self pity: she told herself to hang on and enjoy the ride as it was. She reminded herself that she was on a freaking spaceship/time machine, exploring the cosmos with an alien. A captivating and enigmatic alien, who despite god-knows how many years of traveling, thought her special enough to take with him. Then came the hopeful lie sprung from all unrequited love, "Maybe one day."
'Right. New task, get out of the Room of Crippling Introspection, and find something else.' Martha crept out of her room and felt like a kid sneaking out of bed. A little dangerous and thrilling and definitely distracting. The Doctor had never said to stay in her room all night, plus Martha decided that she needed to get to know the rest of the ship. It didn't take long for her to discover just how much bigger the Tardis was on the inside. Labyrinthine corridors, stairs and dozens of doors led to empty rooms, dead ends and a few odds and ends. Most of the ship was cluttered with relics and souvenirs from past adventures. Objects both familiar and undefinable which no doubt had fantastic stories behind them.
As Martha walked past yet another corridor trying to get back to the main control room, she paused. Music? The presence of any sound besides her own soft footfalls and breathing was at first eerie as it drifted from down the corridor. Martha walked towards the music, barely daring to breath for fear of what she might find. It was always at this part in the film when the young and beautiful heroine would run into something rather nasty in the warehouse, or castle, or whatever. The Tardis seemed endless, who knows what lurked in the unused corridors, waiting….Irrational ghost stories from back home crept into her mind as well as unbidden images of Norman Bates' mother and the Phantom of the Opera, er Tardis rather. Martha got close enough to see a sliver of light from a cracked door and could distinguish a woman singing. The voice was low and full of woe. Martha had never heard such sadness and longing in a song before. She paused just outside the door and heard another sound under the music, a soft sob and sigh. Martha dared one eye to peer into the room and suppressed a small gasp.
The light flickered and danced from what could only be a fireplace. Sitting in a great overstuffed leather chair was the Doctor, head in one hand and a half empty bottle in the other. Martha felt embarrassed at catching so private a moment but couldn't look away from the wreck of a man before her. Just as her brain screamed to back away and forget what she saw, the console on the wall by the door made a small but unmistakable beep.
The Doctor's head raised heavily and his red rimmed eyes saw the sliver of Martha Jones in the crack of the doorway.