Note: Yeah, lame title. Yet another installment of my fascination with the Doctor/Martha relationship, this time just a tiny snippet and a lot of angst. Oh, I love my angst xD No profit, no ownership, you know the drill.
Set during Evolution of the Daleks, in Hooverville.
In any other situation, in any other time, if it were anything other than a Dalek, the sight of two golden trash compactors hovering in the sky would have been hysterical. Right now it was terrifying. Martha had just witnessed someone being killed for the mere fact that he was human, that he wanted peace between the two species and was the only one brave enough to speak. As she watched him collapse onto the cold and unforgiving ground, she felt a sudden stillness to the world, something she'd heard trauma victims describe happen when something major had happened to them; car accidents, brutal mugging, big falls. All of them said the same thing: "time just seemed to stop, and I knew there was nothing I could do". She felt that exact way right now. It seemed to be hours that she stared at Solomon's immobile body when in reality only seconds had passed.
She was violently brought back to the present when the angry, raised voice of the Doctor pierced through the night sky. It took her a moment to register what he was saying (shouting) at the Daleks, and when it did she was shocked once more. He was urging, almost begging the creatures to kill him, kill him and spare the others. She could only stare at him, her mouth open, as she willed words to come yet remained out of her grasp.
What in hell was he saying? He couldn't let them kill him! He knew as well as she that the Daleks would never hold to any kind of promise like what he was urging. Even if they did, they'd only twist the words to something like 'we'll spare their lives if you let us kill you, but we can torture them all we like' or something equally as despicable. The Doctor continued his tirade, again asking for death. Martha listened and felt an uncontrollable rage building in her from her toes up. Did he realize what he was doing? Didn't he know that making himself a martyr wouldn't solve anything, that there would be people who would miss him? He may not have given much thought for his own life, but she sure as hell did. And she wasn't about to let him throw it aside like rubbish while she was still breathing.
There was the tiniest moment of hesitation at seeing the Doctor's eyes, the viciousness and cold calculation in their depths that made her chest grow cold. But she was still furious at him, furious that he could make such a decision without even considering…..no. No, there was rarely any consideration from him on that front. Sure, he worried about her physical well-being, but her emotional state left much to be desired. If only he wasn't just so bloody IGNORANT to her feelings…..
Martha was getting angrier just thinking about her own foolish feelings for him. That anger helped spur her on to step to his side and confront him. "You can't let them kill you! What would that accomplish?"
He didn't look at her right away, his gaze still fixed on his long-time enemies. When he did turn to her, her own rage died instantly and was replaced by the fire of concern and despair. "Martha," he said softly, his voice still shaking from his rant, "it's the only thing that will help you. All of you. I'm someone they've wanted dead for a long time. I'm more important than any of you here. You need to stay here and help the wounded." With a kind of finality, he looked back to the Daleks, the beings still hesitating as Dalek Sec ordered them to wait.
Martha could only stare at the Doctor. Her eyes became wet with tears she refused to shed in his presence, bitter tears of crushing disappointment and sadness and frustration. While the Daleks argued amongst themselves, she whispered, "Does what I think mean nothing to you anymore?" She meant it to be more for herself than anyone else, but he had heard. He looked back at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. She did the only thing she could: she stared at him long and hard, trying to convey everything she'd ever felt for and toward him with only her eyes; all the pain, the heartache, the rejection, the comfort, the wonder, the aggravation, the admiration, the hurt, the longing, the love. It must not have worked because he quickly looked back to the Daleks. Martha looked at them, too when they announced they would take the Doctor with them. "Then I'm coming with you!" she said before she could stop herself.
"No, you're not!" he replied forcefully. He started to move away from her, but she instinctively grasped at his arm, thankful that he paused in his steps instead of immediately pulling away from her. "Doctor," she pleaded. "Please…" Please what? Please don't sacrifice yourself for all of these people because I don't want you to? Because I can't bear the thought of never seeing you again? Please don't leave me alone in a world without you? Please don't walk away from me in favor of these Daleks? There were a lot of I's and me's in those reasons.
He didn't give her any time to be ashamed of herself for those thoughts. All too soon he was walking away to God-only-knows what fate. She wanted nothing more than to cry for him, for herself and her own childishness, for the people behind her who would never know what a brilliant, amazing man he was. Suddenly, he turned and headed back towards her. A faint glimmer of hope that he had changed his mind ignited in her heart. He simply reached out and took her hands in a handshake, like the kind one would give a business partner from across the country. But there was something else in that handshake. Literally, something else. He told her she'd know what to do with it, whatever "it" was. And then he was gone. Again.
Martha turned her head down to her hands, if only to distract herself from the fact that she may never see him in one piece again, if at all. She finally took note of what he'd given her in their handshake: the psychic paper. Her eyebrows nearly met when she scrunched her face in confusion. What in hell was she supposed to do with that?
Tallulah's arms around her shoulders brought her back to reality…and the fact that she was once more on her own. Tallulah understood her pain, but she just wasn't ready to talk about it the way she knew she needed to in order to purge herself of it. The Doctor was gone, just like that. But he had a plan. She had to remind herself of that as she gazed down at the paper in her hands. He'd asked her to trust him without actually saying it, and she did. If she ever felt anything for him, if she ever wanted to see him again (if only to hit him for making her worry about him so much), she need to have faith in him.
With her strength renewed, Martha turned to Tallulah. "Okay…..so what do we do now?"