Martha walked around the TARDIS console room, idly looking at the buttons and switches that dawned the massive control panel in the rooms' center. It was one of those rare moments when she was alone. Usually the Doctor would be there, repairing a panel with his toolbox, interpreting the seemingly nonsensical flashes and beeps from the TARDIS, or rambling on about some distant planet and its people, but this time it was just her. With little to do, she found her way to the jump seat and lounged for a second.
She had just woken up from some awful dream, which was fading now, replaced with memories and drifting thoughts, none of which were very active, as she still hadn't woken up completely. After her nightmare, she had become distrusting of the ominous and looming shadows of her room, and she went seeking the Doctor. She had expected to find him here, in the console room, but she hadn't.
A small part of her was somewhat relieved to find that he was gone. Hopefully he was sleeping, or eating, two activities the Doctor often neglected, and as a real doctor herself, she was always telling him he needed more of. But the other part of her despaired somewhat, she did wish the Doctor was there, he cheered her up after nightmares.
She debated on whether or not to seek caffeine. Time travel jet lag made it hard to discern any sense of time passing, and she wasn't sure how long she'd been sleeping for. It could have been a full 8 hours, which would warrant waking up and facing the day, or it could have been far less than that, in which case she should go back to bed. The Doctor was the only one with any real sense of time, so she relied on him to inform her of its passing.
But despite not knowing, she did find herself drifting a bit, leaning on the jump seat as her thoughts wandered. Maybe she hadn't slept that long. Without fully meaning to, she began to reflect.
She wondered if the Doctor had sat here, in the humming time machine, quiet and alone. She wondered if he had found it peaceful, or boring, or frightening. She wondered how many sleepless nights he had spent reading, working, sitting, or relaxing in this very room. His time spent in this room was probably more compiled hours than she had left to live, he was nearly 1,000 after all, she couldn't dream of living that long! She wondered how many times he had redecorated, if he had gone through any collecting phases that left piles of knick knacks littering room. She wondered how many of the Doctor's friends, whose names and faces she would never know, had stepped through the TARDIS doors, and how many of the Doctor's enemies had done the same thing. The TARDIS, and the Doctor, had been to more places than she would ever see or dream to see. The universe was beyond those doors and it was larger than her human mind could comprehend. But even all that time and all that space, wouldn't last forever, and the Doctor knew that better than anyone. How could any man live with that, with the whole universe in front of him and not go mad? Not become overwhelmed? Not feel like some sort of god? She didn't know.
Also, she pondered the absolute freedom she had at the moment. Freedom from government, from commitment, from exams, from structures, from everything! When all of time and space was at your fingers, and you had the ability to run away and go wherever you pleased, all those silly little structures that sentient beings created seemed arbitrary! Every system, every law, every method of organization seemed about as important as tunnels made by ants in hills, long, complicated, serving a limited purpose, but ultimately doomed to be destroyed by time, and uncared for by higher figures.
For a second she felt indescribably tiny, the halls of the TARDIS were filled with so much history, so much light, and love, and darkness, and story after endless story that would take an eternity to tell. And today, however unlikely it might be to be there, she sat in the echo of it all. Today, she was creating her own moment, her own echo. She wondered if any future companions, long after she was gone, would wonder about her. She wondered if the Doctor would talk about her to those future people, or if he would hardly speak of her again. She wondered how she would leave this ship. By force? By choice? By death? She didn't know.
Everything seemed so big, and so complicated, that it almost seemed like nothing existed at all, like nothing could possibly exist, and like everything had to be some sort of absurd dream. The universe itself was impossibly large, and impossibly frightening, and impossibly amazing, and strangely pointless all at the same time, and she was just a small piece of it, she was just a story, a story that would end, then be either told, or forgotten, and she had no control over which happened.
Suddenly, she was pulled from her thoughts when a familiar figure popped around the corner of a nearby hallway, he wore his pinstriped suit, and his long flowy coat, and he looked excited, with his sonic in hand. He caught sight of Martha.
"Oh, hello!" He greeted, "how long have you been there? Not long I hope." He bobbed over to the control panel, waiting for a response.
"No," Martha said a bit dreamily, "Not long at all." Her words held a double meaning, but also seemed like a lie. She felt like she had just experienced several, out of focused lifetimes through just a few minutes of spiraling reflection.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, I was in the library." He smiled, before taking in the way Martha was sitting, and the expression on her face, "What have you been up to?" He asked, a little concern in his otherwise cheerful voice.
Martha smiled a bit, though there was some rueful pain to the expression, "I think I just started to have an existential crisis." She said, half jokingly. Her head was beginning to hurt, and she had begun to feel anxious.
The Doctor snickered, "Happens to the best of us. Breakfast helps." He said, strutting over to the controls assuredly, "Let's find a restaurant somewhere, I believe it's your turn to decide on one."
Martha thought about this, "Take me somewhere neither of us has been." She said, "let's make this one a surprize."
The Doctor grinned, "right then, allons-y" He pulled a switch, and the two sailed off into the endless universe to make some new story. Only time would tell what that story would amount to.
A/N
Have you ever wondered what you get when you mix Doctor Who ADHD and existential depression? This. I'm glad to have this bit of angst somewhat off my chest, although I don't expect these thoughts to ever leave me. Tell me what you thought of it in the comments below! Also, I'm looking for a beta for this, if someone would like to help out, shoot me a review or a PM saying so. Thanks for reading, and have a lovely day!