A/N: Got this idea in my head while writing something else and had to write this. :3 Hope you enjoy!
The muttering only occurred when Martha was sleeping. She knew it was the Doctor, of course. She recognized his voice and it was the same tone he used when he was getting particularly involved in repairing a part of the TARDIS. However, in some ways this muttering was different. When she was lying in the bed of her cozy bedroom that the TARDIS had designed specifically for her, wide-awake after a more-scary-than-usual adventure, she heard the sound.
Never before had she bothered to get up and go find him, to go and see what it was he was doing. The first few nights, she figured he was just tinkering underneath the console, his red converse clad feet sticking out and a part occasionally dropping on his head and making him yelp. But, after thinking on it for a few weeks, she realized the console room was much too far away for her to hear him mumbling from there. So it had to be something else.
Even after that realization, she didn't get up to find him. He was probably just doing some complicated equation or something. Martha nibbled at her bottom lip as the noises seemed to get louder and more restless. God, did he ever sleep? Was it like this every night? What if he was sleeping? Could these be nightmares?
Without thinking it through, she stood up and exited the room, wearing her flannel pajamas. As soon as she stepped out into the hallway, the noises became louder. Furrowing her eyebrows, she followed the noise and was lead to a door she didn't recognize. It was white and sleek with a golden doorknob, and nervously she knocked on the door. "Doctor?" she called.
She heard the rustling of paper as if she had scared him. Then he cleared his throat. "Er, Martha, come in," he replied awkwardly.
Martha twisted the doorknob and stepped inside, eyes widening at what she saw. It was the Doctor's bedroom – that much was obvious from first glance. The duvet bunched up at the bottom of his bed was a lovely TARDIS blue color, and nicely matched with other accents of the room. The carpet was a crisp white, despite the fact that books, papers, gadgets, and parts were scattered across it.
The brown dresser that was on the wall opposite his bed had a few drawers opened with clothes messily stuffed in. Every flat surface in the entire room was littered with his items. It was so very Doctor, she thought to herself. "I just… I couldn't sleep, and I heard you talking. Are you okay?"
Martha took in his appearance. His hair was ruffled, even more so than usual, and his suit jacket was uncharacteristically off of his body. His pinstriped trousers were strangely wrinkled, and the red shoes that he loved so much were lying on the floor next to his bed. In his lap was a closed book with queer, intricate circles on the cover.
"I'm alright," he replied instinctively, running a hand through his hair and standing up. "Couldn't sleep?"
"What are you doing?" she asked, changing the subject. Surrounding the spot where he had been sitting cross-legged on the bed, were papers and more circular writing.
He shrugged; donning an awkward grin that she could tell was forced. "Just… Doing equations!" he exclaimed louder than he had obviously intended, as if he was proud of himself for coming up with something believable. "Equations! Equations galore! Boring, very boring."
Martha raised an eyebrow. "Equations?"
"Yes!" he nodded, his eyes pleading her to believe him. "Countless equations! Very techy. TARDIS stuff. Sorry about my muttering, I'll most definitely tone it down. Or just soundproof this room, shouldn't be hard."
"Is this your bedroom?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
The Doctor licked his lips nervously, looking around the room. "Yes, I suppose it is. More of just my room, though, seeing as I don't use the bed too often."
Martha picked up a small, random gadget from on top of his dresser and yelped when it made a sound. "Part of a sonic screwdriver," he explained nonchalantly, picking it up and twirling it around in his fingers. "Not sure why that's there, or where it's from."
"How often do you sleep?" she inquired. Finding out new things about the Doctor was sort of like unwrapping a present, you never knew what you were going to get but usually it was interesting.
He shrugged. "Usually around five hours a week. I could survive on less, probably, but travelling with you humans has influenced me more than I let on." The Doctor shot her a wink, and she involuntarily blushed.
She laughed, "That's incredible. So is this what you do while I sleep, then? Boring equations, all night?"
The Doctor sat back down on the bed, swinging his legs and swallowing, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Basically," he replied honestly.
"But what purpose do they have?" Martha frowned when he shut his eyes at that question. "I just mean, well, what do you use them for?"
He considered this, obviously trying to find a way out of answering directly. "I… Er… See, Martha Jones, this is why I like you! Always asking the right questions! Did you know that on the planet Pnotliy they consider questions as sacred things? Isn't that strange? I went there once, maybe…" His voice trailed off at her expression. It was one of pity. "I'm all right, honestly, Martha," he insisted.
There was only one reason he would be avoiding her question like this. She knew that because he had done it before. This had something to do with Rose. Martha knew she should drop it, knew it would be the right thing to do, but instead she sat next to him on the bed and intertwined his right hand in her left. He allowed her to and reciprocated.
"Does this have to do with Rose?" she asked gently. He tensed up noticeably and pulled his hand away. "Talk to me, Doctor, I just want to help you," she insisted kindly.
His eyes shut, and she thought for a moment she might have pushed him too far and he was about to send her home. Instead he just let out a shuddering breath and opened his eyes again, looking at her. "Yes, it does," he answered simply.
Martha nodded slowly. "These equations… You can get her back with them?"
The Doctor stood up and walked a few steps forward. Martha knew that tactic, what with her coming from such a dysfunctional family. He didn't want her to see his face. The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck and pretended to take interest in one of the books lying on the ground. "It's… Going across dimensions… It's unheard of. All of these books are about that."
She frowned. "Then why are you still doing this? If it's impossible?"
He turned around suddenly, frightening her. Lines around his eyes crinkled as he gave her a small, sad smile. If she didn't know him better, she would say he was about to cry. "Because I refuse to admit that."
From then on, every night when she woke to hear his murmurs, or, even a frustrated yell, she simply tried to go back to sleep.
A/N: Poor Doctor! D: Be sure to type your thoughts into the review box below and tell me what you think! :D