So, this is the new version of the old chapters one and two. Personally, I think this is loads better. Contains some Doctor whump. And the cover image is available on my DeviantArt.
Martha Jones was long accustomed to hearing praises of Rose from the Doctor. Sometimes it felt as if Rose was a Goddess, and the Doctor was a priest devoted to his religion. Martha couldn't help but be jealous of Rose; she had a handsome, brilliant man pining after her even when she was long since gone. How many people could say that?
Martha certainly couldn't. And she was right in front of the Doctor every single bloody day for crying out loud! And he didn't seem to care much for her at all except for as another randomized sentient biped in need of constant saving. Martha had never been a drama queen, and she'd be damned if she were one, but constantly being ignored was starting to wear on her self control. How long until she utterly snapped?
Martha sighed, glancing between the two ensembles that she was debating on. One was black jeans with a red tank top and a black leather jacket and the other was faded blue jeans, a purple tank top, and her red leather jacket. She frowned, staring at them both. She couldn't decide. She'd already done her make-up and twisted her hair into a clip, but she couldn't decide on the clothes. She held the latter one up to herself, and the TARDIS hummed. Martha slipped on the outfit the TARDIS preferred.
That was something else that Martha couldn't understand: how could a ship be sentient? She obviously was sentient; she gave input on both her and the Doctor's everyday lives. But that was probably just an Artificial Intelligence, not an actual living being. It was a ship. Yet the Doctor seemed to be as in love with his TARDIS has he was with Rose. It was bloody infuriating, in Martha's opinion.
Martha sighed, shaking her head. She knew the Doctor just needed someone to admire him, not be in love with him, but it was impossible not to love him or be jealous of Rose. She couldn't stop herself from fancying him, even though it seemed at times that the only reason she was on the TARDIS was to stop the Doctor when he went too far.
Maybe today Martha could convince the Doctor to go somewhere instead of hang around the Vortex. On the first day they had been in the vortex, Martha had figured they would be there only for the day at mot. So when the Doctor had said something about a 'one year anniversary' she could not say that she had cared one way or another. On day number seven, however, she was going stir crazy. It wasn't as if there wasn't stuff to keep her busy — new rooms, mini projects, etc, but Martha wanted to go places. Hell, before they were stranded in the vortex, they were stranded in 1969. She needed to go someplace.
Martha was going to go find the Doctor, she decided. And while Martha had troubles believing the ship was actually sentient and not an AI, she knew that she could find something on the ship just by thinking about it because the ship would direct her to it. Using that lovely train of logic, Martha thought of the Doctor and waited for the obligatory map to appear in her head. It did, and she sighed in affectionate exasperation when she saw the Doctor's location. The Library. Go figure. Of course he'd be there. She shook her head and stomped off to the Library.
"Doctor!" she called from the entryway into the Library. She still found it astounding how many books were in there. The only way there could be more would be if there was a planet of books. It was truly incredible how many books someone like the Doctor could collect in 900 plus years. There was no response to her call, so she tried again. "Doctor!"
Martha heard a weird sound coming from one of the couches. No, it wasn't the couch, she realized. It was a soft sniffing. "Doctor?" she asked again, her voice more concerned than demanding. Martha hesitantly inched towards the leather sofa and peered over the top.
Sprawled on the cushions was the Doctor, tears parading down his cheeks, his hands clutching a framed picture as if it were the only thing in the multiverse with any value at all.
Martha's heart clenched even as it broke for the poor Time Lord. He was broken over a ghost! And yet, he looked so pathetic. "Doctor?" Martha whispered, trying to reach him.
The Doctor glanced up at her, his eyes wide, pink, and teary, his hair rumpled until spiky no longer described it. Martha rested her hand on the Doctor's shoulder. Although Martha already knew the answer before the question slipped from her lips, Martha asked, "Is that picture of Rose?"
The Doctor nodded. He seemed almost like patheticness incarnate. Tears streamed from his eyes as he stared up Martha. Finally, Martha plucked up enough courage to ask a very important question. "May I see the picture?"
The Doctor cradled the picture to his chest for a moment longer before wordlessly nodding and handing the picture to Martha. Martha gently took the photo from him. She gasped, covering her mouth with her free hands. "Oh, my God! Doctor! I am so, so sorry!" Martha suddenly found it impossible to be jealous. She knew of that woman from her life before the Doctor as well. And with what that woman had done for the world, there was absolutely no way she could envy that woman. And if that's what it meant to be loved by the Doctor, she didn't want that either. Her eye were a tad tearful.
The Doctor had been staring at Martha every since she had taken the picture. His eyes were blazing in what most people would identify as anger. Martha was not most people; she knew the Doctor well enough to know the expression was of desolation, aching pain, and horrible melancholy.
Martha carefully drew the Doctor into a hug. At first, the Doctor resisted and attempted to push her away. Martha refused to let go. Martha took a deep breath, terrified of how the Doctor would react after her next words. Leaning forward, her breath catching in her lungs, Martha whispered, "She saved the world, Doctor. She died saving the world."
She felt the Doctor heave in a deep breath. He tried to extricate himself from Martha's grasp so that he could mourn the woman he loved in private. Martha endured, maintaining her grasp on the Doctor even as he hit her, punched her, and kicked her. Eventually, he gave up and sobbed uncontrollably, cries wracking his was relieved, seeing as she had already collected too many bruises for her liking.
Martha shook her head at the situation. The Doctor did not move, despite Martha's shaking of her head, and she was relieved, even as the Doctor was sobbing. Earlier today, she would have never done this. She would have been too jealous. And here and now, she was comforting the Doctor over Rose's death. How times changed so suddenly.
When the Doctor's sobs softened just a slight bit, the Doctor managed to speak. "Was she alone when- when she- when she- you know?" His voice cracked several times and was hoarse from his emotional agony. To Martha, it looked like he wanted to commit suicide in the most painful way he could but just didn't know how.
Martha carefully unwrapped her arms from around the Doctor, who stared at her, his eyes red and puffy. The way he looked at her almost confirmed her assessment. Martha pursed her lips , she shook her head to answer the question. Without warning, the Doctor glared at Martha. Martha took this to mean he wanted further information. And that probably was the case. Martha added to her silent answer, "A man called Captain Jack Harkness and his team, Torchwood Three, tried to stop her. They were there." Martha glanced down at the Doctor, her head tilted slightly to one side. "Do you know them?"
The Doctor bit her lip and nodded. "He travelled with me and Rose, back in the old days." The Doctor replied, the faintest of a smile tracing his lips. Martha felt a little better seeing the smile; the shame and sorrow on the hyper man's face was more than a little distressing. Martha nodded, deciding whether or not they should visit Torchwood.
"We should visit them, you know. We could probably get the footage there and get their side of the story," Martha prodded, carefully gauging the Doctor's reaction. Of course, the Doctor just stared back at her like a lost puppy. Martha opened her mouth and raised her eyebrows, imploring him to make a decision.
After a minute or so, the Doctor stood up and nodded his head in agreement. He walked down the hallway to the console room, Martha following him.
With the not-quite precision that comes with the Doctor flying the TARDIS, the TARDIS was piloted to the Torchwood hub, at least, where the ship claimed the Hub was. Indeed, the ship was quite right, too. Of course, the Doctor's strained emotions made for an even bumpier flight than usual. Martha decided that she did not appreciate that, but she understood, so she decided not to comment. She did, however, cling onto the TARDIS for dear life.
The TARDIS materializes in Torchwood. The Doctor stepped out, closely followed by an apprehensive Martha. Both were surprised with what greeted them in the Hub. The man in front was Jack, Martha remembered from the footage. He was still wearing that bloody World War Two coat. And, Martha could tell, Jack was probably the epitome of furious; his team did not seem particularly less ireful. The Asian's woman's lips were pinched into a thin line. The other woman was scowling, fingering a gun. The other man, the one wearing a suit, was holding a tray with teas on it. From the way he was carrying himself, it was clear to Martha that he too was ticked. Martha wondered if they blamed Rose's death on the Doctor or if they were angry for another reason. Either way, Martha prayed that she hadn't upset them in her future.
"Doctor," Jack growled, his eyes alight in pure hatred. The Doctor flinched, looking at anyone or anything other than Jack. Jack's glare did not lessen.
"Captain," the Doctor returned in a drawl similar to Jack's own, except that the emotions contained within were different. The Doctor's voice betrayed that he'd been crying; granted, his eyes did that just as well.
"You betrayed me. . . and Rose," Jack accused, his voice almost loud enough to be considered a shout. The Doctor flinched mightily at Jack's words, a lone tear trailing down his cheek. Martha could tell that more threatened to follow suit. Martha placed her hand on the Doctor's arm to let him know that not everyone and thing were against him. The Doctor glanced over at her gracefully.
When the Doctor finally spoke, he could speak on on the subject matter more commonly known as Jack. "I couldn't help it! You're wrong, Jack!" The entire Torchwood Team laughed a little at that remark. "You're a fixed point in time; that's never meant to happen."
Jack, understandably, wanted to know what that meant. "Is that why I can't die?! The last thing I remembered, back when I was mortal, was being faced by three Daleks, and then I was ankle deep in Dalek dust. What happened?"
The Doctor bit his lip. He almost couldn't form the word necessary to reply. "Rose." He could hardly be heard, but everyone knew exactly what he had said. Jack gaped at the Doctor. "She. . .she absorbed the power of the Time Vortex, atomized all the Daleks, and brought you back. She just lost control of the power. The last act of the Time War was life." His voice could nearly have been described as nostalgic. The Doctor frowned, and Martha knew he was thinking. "How did you first realize you couldn't die?"
Jack grimaced, and his team shared a few glances. "I had my Vortex Manipulator and programmed it for the 21st century. It went wrong and I landed in the nineteenth century. I took a shot to the heart, and then I woke up. Thought that was a little strange , but then it never stopped." Martha was surprised at Jack's clinical tone, to say the least. Her eyebrows leapt up her face, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.
The Doctor winced, shifting a little guiltily. "Jack, I'm sorry. Truly am, but everything in me screams against you."
Jack laughed hollowly, not really sure what to think. Finally Jack managed to speak, wearing a wry expression. "What you're saying is that you're prejudiced?" Jack's voice dripped with sarcasm. Then he resumed his disgusted glare at the Doctor. "What about Rose? What demented reason do you think you have for what you did to her?!"
The Doctor opened his mouth, tears spilling from his eyes. The Doctor backed against the TARDIS and sunk to the ground. Martha knew instantly that he blamed himself for Rose's death, and all of the others also blamed him. And it was really only him and Rose responsible for Rose's death. And it was killing the Doctor. Literally, probably.
"She gave up everything for me, Jack. Everything! Her own family!" the Doctor exclaimed his voice entirely too raw for anyone's liking, and it was clear to the others in that moment that he hated himself for what he did to her.
At the look on Jack's face, Martha could tell that he did not find the Doctor a piteous creature. Jack apparently found the Doctor a hideous one instead. "So you abandon her as if her sacrifice meant nothing to you?!" Jack bared his teeth in a snarl.
"I can't have someone willing to give up all that for me!" The Doctor's protest was weak, and Martha knew that he knew it too. Yet, it was also all the Doctor had. The Doctor raised his eyes to meet Jack's, begging for mercy and forgiveness.
Martha could tell Jack understood, as recognition flared in the immortal's eyes. This did not, however, relieve any of the anger from his gaze. Almost taunting, Jack exclaimed, "You don't think you deserved her!" Jack shook his head in what Martha thought was a mixture of disdain and sadness.
The Doctor barely hesitated before nodding.
When Martha glanced anew between the two men, she realized that she had forgotten the Torchwood Team. She watched them for a moment, deciding that they too had probably forgotten both each other's and her existence while watching.
Finally, Jack relented his assault. "I suppose you'll want to see the footage of her death?"
Unable to form words, the Doctor nodded. Martha grimaced, as she had watched when the footage had first been released. "Tosh, would you pull up the footage from the camera? The one we didn't release to the public?" Martha's eyebrows would have been floating above her head, had they been able.
Tosh nodded, and everyone followed her to her computer. Within seconds of being at the laptop, she had pulled the footage, which was of better quality than the one Martha had seen before, though, this one was also slightly blurry. Judging by the Doctor's face, it may as well have been in perfect clarity. The Doctor's breath caught as he looked at the image. Rose was on the screen. Written on the Doctor's face was a look of surprise. Had Rose not always been so sad? If that was the case, and Martha was now sure it was, the Doctor blamed himself.
On the video, Rose was stooped down next to a young child, who was trembling in his whispered something to the boy, who then nodded and ran. Rose turned towards the camera, recognition in her eyes, as if she knew that someone would watch it. A moment later, a Dalek was visible on the screen. Rose stared at the Dalek, a placid firmness in her gaze, the type the sane did not readily possess.
"EXTERMINATE!" The Dalek's despicable voice was easily heard as it rang through both rooms, despite the camera's questionable microphone from which it emanated in one room. Rose failed to react. The bolt produced by the Dalek just ran down Rose's body into the floor. Rose smirked, a derisive laugh slipping from her mouth.
She dragged a gun from her pocket and aimed it at her own head. "My life force in my body is keeping you alive, yeah? Well, the Doctor made me feel like nothing. And I s'pose I am nothing, but I can still save the Earth!"
She pulled the trigger and the gun fired. Their was a sickening crack. There was a small crackle, but it was covered by the resounding sound of the gunshot. Blood trickled down from Rose's head as she collapsed, dead. The Dalek's eyestalk's light faded to black. The Dalek, too, was dead.
A sob wracked the Doctor as he sank to his knees in despair. His hands hit the floor with an audible thud. He didn't pay any further attention to the video, even though it was the part containing Torchwood. The Doctor just sat there, stunned. Martha had never seen the Doctor as pathetic as he'd been this last day. Or few days, she supposed.
When the Doctor was able to form words, his voice was a whisper only. "She doesn't know how mistaken she was! She's worth more than this entire bloody planet!" By the end of his rant, the Doctor was shouting. Everyone recoiled, even Martha. The Doctor banged his fists on his thighs. When he had apparently calmed down ever so slightly, the Doctor calmly stated, "God, I love her so much."
From its secret place in the vent, a minute little arachnid robot reported this turn of events to its mistress.
I will update whenever I have a chapter written and typed up. I've noticed I have to be in a certain mood to write this story due to its gloomy, depressive nature. Then again, I doubt that I will have a problem with that bit as I will be spending all next week pretty much in a car with arguing twins or stuck in a hotel room. I doubt that my limited sanity will survive without writing and my noise-cancelling headphones and music.
Anyhow, I know last version I promised that things would get better. I am here to tell you that they will not. This story will have one of those sad endings. I apologize to anyone who wanted a nice, happy ending.
~~Elf