Living in the Shadow
by Genesis R
Why did Jack have to go and mention Rose? Yes, it felt so good to say that she wasn't dead and to see the spreading smile on the captain's face, but still...but still it hurts to say and hear her name. Because as much as the Doctor tells himself he didn't abandon her, there is still a nagging feeling that he didn't do everything he could have done. Somehow it feels wrong to have moved on. Rose wouldn't have — didn't — want him to be alone, but even she would have winced at how quickly he's erased the relics of her presence on the TARDIS. Is it treason to laugh with Martha? Even Jack serves as a painful reminder of a happier time.
The Doctor walks in the front of their little group, here at the end of all things, as much to lead the way as to hide his face from the other two. He is good at masking his emotions, but the mask is close to cracking and the fewer questions asked, the better.
It's almost like old times, he thinks, listening to his companions' chattering voices rise and fall behind him. Not that Martha replaces Rose, no, she's not a replacement, he has to be fair to her, nothing like Rose...not exactly like old times then, but similar enough to be heartbreakingly familiar and comfortable. Almost as if he can close his eyes, replace Martha's tone and voice with another —
Wait, they are talking about Rose?
He spins to face them with an expression of shock and, toward Jack, betrayal. Martha is waving her hands and deriding blondes. Does she truly think he loved Rose just for that? He wants to take his current companion by the shoulders and shake her. Love is so much more than physical, he wants to yell at her. Can't you see that? Or are you too jealous of her hair color? But he doesn't. He makes an acid comment about them "blogging" at the end of the world; that shuts them both up and they walk in sullen silence along the clifftop.
He doesn't doubt that Martha loves him. That much had been clear from day one, when he'd kissed her and she'd followed him, to that night in 1913 when she'd said it point blank to his human face. It is only kindness, he tells himself, that tolerates her affection. By rights he ought to have dropped her off at home after that first trip, to save them both a lot of heartache later on. But once again, as always, he'd proved a coward and he couldn't find the words to make her leave.
He's always known she'd hurt him eventually and he's prepared for it, but he's never expected a knife in his back like this. Using his own Rose against him.
Should he tell Martha? Should he tell her what really happened to Rose, what ultimately happened to every companion, from Susan to Sarah Jane to Rose herself? Because Martha is right, she is so very right; he just lacks the confidence to tell her so. He leaves them all behind. His companions, all of them, every time. No matter how much he loves them, or they love him. In the end, he will always go on and they will always linger on some world, waiting and hoping for his return that he can never guarantee.
He realizes that he really doesn't want to have to tell her that. Time repeats itself, and he sees again that twilit sidewalk, himself caught between Sarah Jane and Rose. He remembers the conversation. That was the most anger Rose had ever displayed toward him, when she'd understood that she was neither the first nor the last and she realized that some day that would be her in Sarah Jane's place, perhaps stiff and grey-haired, finding the Doctor only to lose him again with all hope gone of ever reprising her role by his side. He doesn't want to see that kind of hurt again, the kind that he causes and will inevitably cause. That will come soon enough on its own.
Rose and Sarah Jane, Martha and Rose, and soon enough Martha herself will be a memory, a warning to future companions of the perils of the Doctor.
Better to let her go in ignorance now, jealous of Rose and not realizing that her fate is the fate of all of them. That's where the true danger lies. But that will become apparent in time and he is in no hurry to hasten its revelation.
He thinks he ought to apologize to Martha for being so sharp, but even as he gathers the courage to face her, Jack gives a shout and their attention is distracted by a wildly fleeing figure, and the topic is lost.
Later, safely inside the compound-fortification-refugee-camp, Jack was off doing whatever Jack did (that the Doctor clearly didn't approve of), leaving Martha and the Doctor quietly alone for the first time since coming to this place. For the end of the universe, it is rather crowded and stuffy, but Martha's mind isn't on all the people, the humans and the Futurekind and whatnot — it is on one particular person from the past, a past the Doctor doesn't want to talk about but that is very important for Martha's future. The conversation on the clifftop still haunts her, the anger in the Doctor's voice when he turned to face them and the sadness in his face when he turned away again.
"Doctor?"
He looks up from tinkering with the Professor's junkyard machine and peers at her through his glasses. "Martha?"
"Who's Rose and why did you leave her behind?"
Always Rose. Why won't she let me be?
"Um...she was a friend. A companion. And she's with her family now, where she belongs."
"But you left her there. Sounds like she had no choice. Was that what she wanted, to stay with her family, or was that what you wanted?"
"Who says it has to be either?" His voice is sad and he isn't looking at her anymore. "Things...happen. The universe goes on around you whether you want it to or not."
Martha nods, feeling that now would be a good time to let the subject drop but still needing answers. "I'm sorry." She hesitates. "So was she...your first?"
"Huh? First what?"
"First companion. So I'm second? Or third, after Jack?"
"No." Back to the machine, poking the sonic deep among the wires as if the answer to all his problems is tangled somewhere in there.
"Just 'no'?"
"Yes. Just no. You're not the first, or the third, or the tenth. I'm a lot older than that."
She's silent for a while after that.
"...So Rose...she wasn't the first, either."
"Just — drop it, will you? Now's not the time," he says abruptly, standing up and taking off his glasses.
"It's okay, Doctor. I'm okay with that. Really."
"Really?" He looks at her closely and she's hard-pressed to appear nonchalant. She's really not okay, not with the fact that she's just another companion, and definitely not with the fact that Rose was also a companion and look where she is now: gone, and he won't even talk about her. It makes sense, she supposes, but that doesn't stop her from feeling insecure.
"To be honest..." To be honest, she doesn't know why she's saying this, but she feels it needs to be out there. "I don't want to be left behind." He frowns and starts to open his mouth, but she continues, "I know you'll leave sooner or later, fine, but I want it to be when I decide it's time to go. I know there's not always a choice, but trust me, I'll want to leave some time. I've got my whole life to live and eventually I'll —" Eventually I'll get tired of living in Rose's shadow. Poor girl. I can't feel anything but sorry for her, but times like this, I wish she'd never existed.
Even without Martha finishing the sentence, the Doctor gets the idea. "Of course." He nods. "I would never keep you against your will."
They go back to working on the machinery. Martha is completely silent, deep in thought, not even replying to the Doctor's random cheery comments. I wonder if every companion realizes this at some point, that they're dispensable but the Doctor will always go on. I guess he has to, he has to keep finding new friends, because the old ones die and he needs someone with him... I ought to pity myself for being left behind, but I feel more sorry for him for having to leave us. I wonder if he'll miss me as much as he misses Rose?
The Doctor, meanwhile, is glad enough that that conversation is over. It has reminded him again of a similar confrontation with Rose a little under a year ago, and he remembers how painful it had been for Rose to realize that she wasn't as unique as she'd thought. (She was unique, and important, very important, but he's lost the chance to ever tell her that.) He is thankful that Martha seems to have taken it so well; he could use a companion that is only strictly along for the ride and nothing more. Hidden motives have always bothered him. Speaking of such, where did that Professor Yana get off to...
As fate would have it, Martha actually does get to choose when she leaves. The Doctor had vaguely feared that she would be taken, just like Rose, so it's something of a relief when she announces that this time she's staying home for good. He's sad, of course, and he wants to convince her to stay with him, but he thinks that it's probably for the best. Better to leave willingly now, than unwillingly later.
She's the only companion in recent memory to walk away of her own free will. Why is that? he wonders. She says her family needs her, and I suppose that's true, but I also think they'd do just as well without her. It's almost as if...she doesn't want to be with me any more. Ever since Utopia — ever since she found out she's a companion; just that, a companion. A fellow traveller, free to disembark whenever. But why now, of all times?
Humans. Maybe I'll never understand.
Nevertheless, it hurts to see her go, and he can feel cold air by his side where a living person ought to be. As much as he denies it, he knows he needs someone with him; he's not okay on his own. But he promised Martha he would let her walk away, and she's chosen to use that privilege now. Nothing for it but to go on, same as he always has. The Doctor and the TARDIS — who needs a better companion than that? Compared to her, that great faithful ship, everyone else will be passing acquaintances: never to be forgotten, but also never able to stay. He'll find someone else and life will go on as it ought to.
Rose...
Jack...
Martha...
...anyone else want to step into the box?