This is a reply to Montypython203's challenge. I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: Any references to Doctor Who belongs to someone other then myself. That's right – I unhappily confess that this show is not my own! (blubber)
Martha Jones was woken up again by the echoing school bell, ringing up and down the deserted corridors. For the first five seconds she rolled her head over on the thin yet comfortable pillow and tried to open her tired eyes. As soon as she had opened them the realisation hit her.
It wasn't the fact that she was sleeping in a servant's dormitory in a boy's private school in 1913. It wasn't even the torment of getting up at six in the morning and doing about twelve hours or more of gruelling chores. And it wasn't even the anxiety that would face her during the day as boy after boy glided silently by her, gave her a disgusted look and turned away sharpish like she was carrying the plague.
It was because she realised that today would be another day without the Doctor. Yes, the once heroic and valiant Time Lord that took her by the hand and raced with her to new worlds and exciting opportunities was locked away inside a fog watch.
But this wasn't the worst part. The fact that the Doctor had taken human form, changing every cell in his body, meant that he wasn't the Doctor at all. He was John Smith. And that was somehow worse then nothing. At least when the Doctor wasn't around, Martha could pretend he felt the same way for her as she did him. But looking into those eyes – those same eyes – with a different soul behind them made it…uncomfortable. And heart breaking. It was like someone you couldn't trust using a close friend as a vehicle for their own purposes. But it wasn't like the Doctor didn't think about this intellectually…he did this to save her life after all.
So after Martha grudgingly sat up and gave a swing of her legs over the side of her bed, she was ready to boldly start another day as the downtrodden maid servant, inherited by a pompous school teacher. It wasn't as bad as all that though, she had to think to herself as she started washing her face in the basin by the sink. Her good mate Jenny was a laugh and treated her as equally as any other girl would. And being with Jenny almost throughout the day was a huge relief for her – they would talk about some of the most severe teachers behind their backs and gossip about a man called Paul who lived in the village close by. (Martha had never even met the man but according to Jenny, he was a heart throb). And when she was with Mr Smith well…it was a battle with herself to keep in his company as much as possible but also avert his eyes at all costs.
It was 6.30 and it was time to head to the kitchens and get the man his breakfast tray. Dressed in her smart maid's outfit and hair smartly up in a bun, she left her sleeping quarters and walked down the corridors of the school to the kitchens close by.
The kitchens were a fun place to be, especially at this time of day. Helen the cook was a small plump lady that insisted that Martha try a piece of cake now and then. 'Good morning Helen,' Martha beamed as she walked through to the breakfast area.
'And to you Miss Jones,' Helen smiled as she cleaned some dishes. 'I've laid out some breakfast for you and Jenny on that table over there. Mr Smith's tray just needs cleaning and you can get on with your duties!'
'Thanks Helen, you didn't have to!' Martha said, sitting down at the long wooden benched table. She tucked into some toast with honey and jam, sipped her tea and then got up to set up the breakfast tray.
'Make sure you grab some of that sponge cake before you go love, there's plenty to go around!' Helen beamed pointing to a whole cake on a shelf.
'Save me some for lunch Helen, thanks again!' Martha smiled prettily as she scurried out of the room, leaden with a full tray.
Now she was upstairs just down the corridor from the room that occupied Mr Smith. For weeks now she went through the same routine but every time it was hard to do. He wouldn't look at her twice – wouldn't remember her as the clever 21st century girl training to be a doctor. His mind was full of stiff, dusty 1913 mannerisms. She was just a maid servant. Common and coloured; that's all he would ever think of her.
With a harsh sniff through her nose, she knocked on his door and he called, 'enter!'
It was the morning of November 10th 1913. Martha expected him to have his windows tightly shut, yet a cold breeze swept through one that was open. 'It's a bit chilly in here, sir.' Martha stated as she settled the tray down on his table. 'Don't you want that closing?'
Smith turned around to look at her. She caught his eye and fell under its spell. Somehow for one moment she thought the Doctor was there…
'Yes, if you would do it please.' He said sighing, reaching for some buttered toast. Her smile faded, she curtsied and walked swiftly over to grab the handle and lock out the freezing weather.
'I had a rather strange dream last night,' Smith muttered to her, biting into the toast.
'Really Sir?' Martha answered, trying to avoid looking into his eyes again. She busied herself tidying up around his room.
'Yes, I dreamt I was travelling…' he walked in a daze around his bed. 'But I wasn't by myself. There was someone there – someone I could trust completely and would always be able to rely on them. But I couldn't see their face, it was rather peculiar!'
Martha thought of Rose instinctively because she knew deep down the Doctor loved her and even in human form that powerful feeling for his last companion wouldn't falter. His next statement made her drop a bundle of clothes to the floor.
'It was a pretty girl though and she was smart. This probably isn't relevant but I took the girl far away from home. I took her to the moon! And then to New York! Can you imagine? Two completely irrelevant places to take a girl out, I tell you!' He laughed to himself, finishing his toast.
Martha grabbed the laundry and laughed too. 'Yes Sir, what an amazing task that would be! Going to the moon…such a romantic notion. And New York is so far away yet you have no idea how far…' She muttered but trailed off when she realised he wasn't listening.
He was gazing into space again, probably trying to remember the rest of his dream.
'Still,' he mumbled, taking his bowl of porridge. 'I'm yet to meet a girl worthy enough to show her my desires of taking her to a magical place and make her feel very special indeed.'
'Somehow I think you've made plenty of girls feel that way,' Martha said a bit too bitterly for her own liking. But she moved out of the room without looking back at him and closed the door with a loud snap.
John Smith gave a puzzled look as her back stomped out of the room and out of sight. He didn't know what she meant by other girls…was she saying something? Maybe he upset her somehow…he felt stupid. He stood up but froze suddenly. Wait a minute, why did he feel stupid? She was just his servant girl for heaven's sake. No need to worry about her. He moved over to read his newspaper but couldn't find himself to read it. Martha had been his friend for a long time, particularly over these last few months which played out more vividly in his memory then any other time of his life which felt…foggy.
It was just the way her face fell before – he felt a responsibility for that face. He should make it up to her later, then at least he could shake up these feelings and go back to normal.
He made a noise in his throat and sat to read the morning news, his head swimming with turbulent thoughts.
So that's the first chapter up! I wanted to convey Martha's feelings towards John Smith first before we got into any action. Please R&R! Amy x