Disclaimer: Not mine.
"Ah, Miss Jones. How nice to meet you." Martha took note of his expression as he looked up from his paperwork, head slightly tilted to one side, as if he was waiting for her to understand the punch line of a joke he'd told.
"Mister Saxon." She wished she could keep some of the apprehension from her voice. Why would the Prime Minister want to talk to her? And why would he be looking at her as if the meeting was a giant private joke?
There followed a pause in which Mr. Saxon continued to look at her with amusement, and she looked at him with growing suspicion.
Without further ado he said, "so, Miss Jones, how much do you know about the alien calling himself the Doctor?"
Martha snorted. It would just figure that the Prime Minister would want to have a heart-to-heart about the Doctor. Somehow, someway, ever since she had met him, every remotely strange thing in her life was about the Doctor.
Enough. Concentrate on Mr. Saxon.
This close, he was definitely different to how he appeared on TV. Not that she'd seen much of him on TV, what with the travelling and all, but still. He seemed more sincere, and definitely more attentive, but his scrutiny felt strange, as if he was amused by her reluctance to tell him anything about the Doctor. Like…he was in complete control of the situation. Including what she would do. And he knew about the Doctor, including the fact he was an alien.
Something wasn't right here. Time to go out on a limb a bit.
"You're not human, are you? And what do you know about the Doctor?"
"How perceptive. He never did have much patience with those who weren't. As to the second, I know a great deal more about him than you do, I'm sure, my dear."
"You a friend of his or something?" This did not make sense. Why would he tell her that he was an alien? What did he want?
"You could say that." Martha was getting seriously creeped out by now. It was like the Doctor, when she'd first met him. Dancing around the issue. But Mr. Saxon was slimy.
"What planet are you from, then?" she asked, genuinely curious.
He dismissed her curiosity with a slight wave of his hand. "A long way away, my dear."
But she'd be damned if she'd let him just ignore her questions like that. She hadn't let the Doctor get away with it.
"Tell me. Or I won't answer your questions."
He appraised her for a second. "You really won't answer my questions unless I play along with you. Very well. The name of my planet is Gallifrey."
"Gallifey? But- hang on, that's the Doctor's planet. You're a Time Lord? But you were all blown up, yeah? Least that's what he told me."
"Oh yes. He would know better than anyone that the Time War had casualties. And, of course, he knows who those casualties were." There was a flicker of something strange on his face.
Martha now officially doubted that this man was any friend of the Doctor's. Mr. Saxon, despite what he knew, was not treating the Time War as if it were a serious matter.
Mr. Saxon noticed her distaste. "It was a long time ago. Easily long enough to accept what happened."
She still wasn't convinced.
Mr. Saxon sighed. "What exactly do you know about the Time War, Miss Jones?"
"Not much. Why?"
"Humour me," Mr. Saxon said, leaning back in his chair. "Tell me what you know."
She gave him a sceptical glance. "All he told me was that his people fought against the Daleks. Said he fought in it. That's all."
"So he never told you how the war ended? How interesting. Perhaps, even after all this time, he has still not fully accepted…" This thought seemed to amuse him.
"Excuse me, but I fail to see the humour in having your planet blown up!"
"Ah, but my dear, you also fail to see the irony of the situation."
She shot him another Look. "And what irony would that be?" she asked, no humour in her voice.
"Let me put it this way, Miss Jones. Would you consider the Doctor to be a good man?"
A blindingly obvious question. "Yes, of course."
"And do you think that the Doctor goes out of his way to avoid killing?"
Martha had no idea where he was going with this. "Well, yeah."
Now he leaned forward, clearly eager to make his point. "So if I told you that the Doctor has committed genocide three times over, you would see some irony in your previous opinion of the Doctor?"
"What? No. No way he did that!"
"Oh, but he did, Miss Jones. He slaughtered the Racnoss last Christmas, and the Daleks, and his own people." He chuckled. "So long ago, he refused to destroy the Daleks at the beginning of their creation. Ah, what he would do to have that opportunity again."
She thought back to their encounter with the Daleks in New York. Reluctantly, she concluded that he probably would. But genocide? Three times? His own people? No way.
She said as much to Mr. Saxon.
The infuriating man laughed again. Sick, he was. Sick. Nobody should laugh at genocide.
"You don't believe me? You don't think him capable of killing and then deceiving you about it?"
"No! I mean, yeah, he could kill, I reckon. But he wouldn't lie to me about it."
"Do you know what happened to your cousin Adeola, then?"
"Yeah, she was killed at Canary Wharf." This was an unexpected line of inquiry. Even more unexpected than asking about the Doctor.
Mr. Saxon's expression changed slightly, as if she were slow. She'd been on the receiving end of that look quite a lot in her life. She'd received them first from Mr. Stoker at the hospital, then from the Doctor. "I mean do you know exactly what happened to her? Do you know how she died?"
"No, we never got the body- wait. The Doctor knows something about that?"
"Why, of course. He was there. More than that, he was the one who killed her." He smiled, eyes shining with a mixture of malice and pleasure.
Martha couldn't think of a quick reply to that. She sat there, stunned, for a few second.
Eventually she managed a pathetic "he never- he would never- he would have told-" but pure shock was setting in. He had told her he'd been there, the very first time they'd met. She had told him about Adeola.
"But he did, my dear. He held his sonic screwdriver to her head- the very instrument he claims cannot harm- and shut off her brain like you would turn off a light. And with just as much remorse."
He had hesitated before telling her anything, she remembered. Then he had avoided telling her any more about it. She had dismissed it as a 'Rose thing'.
Her brain was refusing to fully process the facts. So she changed tack slightly. "How do you know all this?"
"I'm Prime Minister, my dear. I have access to all sorts of footage," he said, with an oddly triumphant look.
Martha shook her head. "There's just no way. No way. He would have told me at least."
Mr. Saxon's smile grew broader. "Go back to him, then," he said. "Ask him, straight out. See what he tells you. I have nothing more to ask you. Go on."
With a final glare, Martha stalked towards the door.
"Oh, and Miss Jones? Tell him the Valeyard will see him soon."
The sound of his soft, mocking laughter followed her as she walked out of the room, only a bit faster than she normally would.
A/N: So, what do you reckon? Should I do some sort of continuation? I have an idea for a follow-up, but…I think this works quite well standalone, despite the loose ends. Review and let me know?