Dear and faithful reader,
This is a new story, and if you will again indulge me this rant, i will try to define it. I did not want to write this story. i was set on finishing Sectioned and on to writing the follow up to Informed Consent. But, i wanted to write a Ten/Martha story, and this is what came to me. Anyone familiar with my writing knows that i often write happy and light stories. this is not one of those. If you are looking for happy and lihgt, go read one of my other stories, i am sure you will find what you are looking for there. This is a dark tale, ande i am still not sure how it will end, but i do know where it is going. i don;t know if or when i will post,but this one seems to have taken over all of my creative muse's time, soi am hoping to appease her enough to allow me to finish the other's
She toed her expensive shoes off at the front door, well aware of how it drove Tom nuts. But, Tom was not here, as usual. He had gone off for yet another tour in Africa, saving the world one misfortune at a time.
Martha Jones vowed to examine her choice in men, her hero worship really needed to be culled at some point.
More than one family member had pointed out the similarities in the two men, Tom, and the Doctor. Often, Martha merely shook her head and smiled at their accusations. What else could she do? Lie? Protest too much? She supposed if Tom had a magical blue box in place of a ten year old Volvo, she would be in real trouble.
The light was flashing on her answering machine, but a ten day trip to Ireland on UNIT's dime had rendered the light inevitable, as well as her indifference to it.
What messages would have been there anyway? Her mother railing on about her father's girlfriend? Leo asking for babysitting duties? Tish gushing about her new relationship? It was both sad and obvious that her family had a life, and all she had were memories of one. And a job. A really demanding one at that.
They had all bounced back from the year that never was, or at least that was the plan. The bouncing back part was easy to cling to as mythos, but much harder to pull off in real life.
. Perhaps the rest of her family had bonded in close quarters, and Leo, having no memories of any of it was a good buffer. Tish seemed different in many ways, quieter and more reserved. The night after she had walked out of the TARDIS, her family had got together for a large family dinner at their favorite restaurant. Jack had come along at the insistence of both Francine and Tish. Her otherwise gregarious and sassy sister seemed to cling to the immortal man as if her were the last life boat leaving the Titanic. Martha had chalked it up to the experience of an entire year at the hands of a mad man. What else did she expect?
It had been a somber meal, but the undercurrent of liberation and happiness ran true through the event. Jubilation was not quite the word to be used, but a happiness to be alive was agreed upon between the pasta course and the tiramisu. They all agreed that this would not break them. They would see this through and come out stronger.
If only they could all agree with that at the same time, perhaps the hard smiles and painted on glee would be believable.
UNIT officers waited outside of the otherwise empty Italian eatery, poised to move the traumatized family to their base to be debriefed. The family laughed in mirthless forced spurts, and even the usually flirty Jack Harkness held his grins under the table with his tightly balled fists.
Clive laughed through gritted teeth, and Tish held herself so close to Jack that Martha began to wonder what was really going on between them.
Francine tried to carry on as if it was a normal outing for the family. Martha noted how she even tried to tell old family jokes that seemed to fall flat against the surreal backdrop of an empty restaurant and UNIT officers that could be seen through the large picture window in the front. Her mother's laughter was like glass, hard shards of jangly broken pieces crunched together in the bin.
Leo seemed to be the last line in that old rhyme about one of these things just did not belong here. As far as he was concerned, he had seen everyone three days ago at a family gathering. Well, everyone except Martha who was off with the Doctor in his time line.
Paradoxes and timelines.
Now, three months after the end, and Martha had made the same decision that the rest of her family had. Keep buggering on.
For Tish, that was dating, Leo went on raising his daughter, Francine idea of survival was marked with her continued complaints about Clive's choices in survival—Annalise. But for Francine, that was life wasn't it? How did they equate life with the mundane? How did these amazing people that were her family just slip right back into the same comfortable trifles of life?
But, work was her mundane, wasn't it?
The tea kettle was on before the coat came off, tossed over the luggage by the front door. Martha went about making her tea by autopilot. She ruminated over the events in her life that led her to this point. A medical advisor at UNIT. Great pay, great travel, great chances for advancement. Really shitty possibilities for a social life. She had no illusions about where the job had come from; as far as she was concerns it was her due. And Martha was sure he knew it too. She had seen more in that non-existent year than she had ever wanted to see in her entire life. But, like the song said; once you know you can never go back.
The tea made, Martha moved to the couch in her living room, decided to forego mindless television, she sat in the quiet and relative dark. It was something she had become accustomed to in the time since her return from the Valiant. She had been seeing Tom for three months before he left for his new crusade, and she wondered if there was any chance for them. What she felt for him was transference, but better to settle for a facsimile when the original was unavailable.
But, she found that Tom Milligan had begun to creep into her heart, maybe not in the ways she wanted, but definitely in the ways he should. She found herself wondering if she loved him, or was lonely for something else. It was still too soon to tell. Japan was still burning behind her closed eyes, even though she had visited there not a month ago. Just to make sure.
"Don't even think about it." She spoke aloud. A warning she wondered to herself she wondered if she would even heed. She missed him, but she was not stupid enough to believe that those feelings about the mysterious alien were reciprocated.
Halfway through her third cup of tea, the light began to bug her. The flashing reminded her of lights of the console. Sometimes they would just go for no good reason. That was usually when the Doctor would wield his mallet and pound the life out of it.
He was good at putting out lights, wasn't he?
She stood in her stocking feet on her new expensive carpet, she moved to the small table by the overstuffed chair and pressed the button.
The first message was from her sister, dated for the day before she left for Ireland..
"Martha," Tish sniffed wetly. "Are you there? I need to talk to you. Mum said that you were leaving on a trip. I was trying to catch you before you left." A pause. "If you're there, can you pick up? " a longer pause. "It's sort of important." Martha folded her arms in mock self defense. "I guess I'll try your mobile. Please answer."
Martha had gotten the call from Tish, and then sent it straight into voice mail. She had not wanted to deal with family business while she was on the road. But that was not entirely the truth.
The truth was, Martha Jones had left the building.
She shook her head and went through to the next messages. One from Tom, one from her mother about a wedding in the family. One from Annalise about a birthday party for her father.
Life went on, but Martha was merely a shade.
A message from Jack, terse but still she could hear the Jack come through in his voice. She knew he was as worried about her as the rest of her family, but she did not want concern. Martha Jones was the super hero that saved everyone. She was impervious to harm and danger. Faster than the speed of light; more powerful than a locomotive. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.
She needed a cape; a cape and a telephone box to change in. Preferably a blue one.
She listened to more messages about bills, and obligations, none of which she particularly cared about. Until the last one.
Martha had leaned over ready to push the button to dump the rest of the calls when her mother's voice came through,
"Martha." Her mother began slowly. "I need you to call me, as soon as you get this. And don't give me that 'I am too busy, nonsense." Her mother's voice had taken a clearly definable tone of desperation, bordering on hysterical. "I need to hear from you ASAP young lady."
Martha was no fool; she picked up the phone and called her mother.
It rang for a long time, glancing at the clock on the wall; Martha realized with a grimace that her mother may have been in bed, 2:30 was way past Francine's hour of decency.
She picked up on the fifth ring. "Martha?" she chirped mightily.
"Just got in Mum," she began quickly. "sorry to call so late,I got your message and it sounded pretty big."
"Your mobile has been off for two days." Her mother accused.
Martha sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. "Not really allowed to have them on the plane, Mum."
Francine huffed in response. "You were on the plane for a week.'
"Mum," she warned.
"Martha, I have been trying to get a hold of you all day."
"And here I am." Martha affected a mock jovial tone, a tone which only served to exaserbate her mother's irritation.
"I was trying to find your sister."
"Tish?" Martha frowned.
"You have another sister?" Francine answered with no humor. "Yes, Martha. Tish. She was supposed to come over today and go shopping with me. I have not seen her, nor heard from her."
"That's not like her," Martha spoke to herself.
"No," Francine answered, "which is why I called you. Leo has not heard from her, and neither has your father, nor his tart."
"Mum," Martha admonished verbally, but could not help her own smile. "Did you try Jack?"
Francine's voice was a mantra of disbelief. "Why would I call jack about Tish?" she snorted.
"They talk a lot, maybe she went off with him. You know they have been really close since…" she trailed off.
"Why can't you talk about it Martha?" Francine asked.
"Mum," Martha warned again.
"It's not like you were there for the brunt of it."
"Great, early morning accusations. Do we need to have this conversation now?" she whined.
"That was not an accusation Martha, but the fact that you take it as such means you have not dealt with your survival guilt."
"Don't Mum," Martha warned again. "Leave it in the counselor's offices, yeah?"
"Anyway," Her mother exaggerated. "I need to find Tish, and I am not in freak out mode yet,but it would be nice to keep from taking that trip down Paranoia Lane.'
"I'll call Jack now," Martha answered quickly, grateful for the opportunity to end the call.
"Let me know, Martha." Francine clipped.
As if I could, Martha thought, but kept it to herself. "Yeah," She disconnected the call and rang Torchwood.