I don't own Doctor Who, or anything connected to it. I am making no profit from this story.
He had told her that she could choose any bedroom but the two on the end in the long corridor of rooms. One she knew must be his, the other one, who knew why the Doctor told her she couldn't have it. She was curious though. Weren't they all the same?
He wasn't around and she wanted to explore; she hated a mystery. She carefully opened the door and stepped into the room. It was pink, which was a shocker. The parts of the ship she had seen all looked the same, organic, and in muted tones. She stepped further into the room. It held a queen size bed sitting against one wall with a number of pillows and satin duvet cover. At the end of the bed, looking out of place, a large worn black leather jacket lay. Martha walked over and touched the leather as her eyes travelled the rest of the room. The room seemed almost like a shrine, quiet and untouched.
There were several doors on two of the other walls and a dressing table. Poking her head through one of the doors she saw a closet full of clothes, from the looks of it, a young woman with flamboyant and eclectic taste. The next door led to a bathroom.
"Nothing of interest there," she mused. The last door led to another bedroom.
"That's curious," she thought as she gazed around this new room. She caught sight of the Doctor's brown overcoat.
Her mouth formed a small "o" of surprise and she slowly backed out of the masculine bedroom and closed the door adjoining them. Turning, she jumped; the Doctor was standing by the dressing table, his hands shoved deeply into his pants' pockets, a resigned expression on his face.
"Um, sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious, was all." Martha spluttered a slow flush creeping across her cheeks.
He inhaled deeply, nodding, his eyes roaming the room restlessly. He said nothing.
Martha took a steadying breath. He didn't seem overly mad, he actually seemed melancholy. She didn't want to anger him into taking her home early. He had promised her a trip into the future after their debacle with Shakespeare.
She approached the dressing table where he stood, her eyes wandered over the things laying there. A hairbrush, hair clips, make-up, perfume. Her eyes were caught on a strip of four black and white photos taped to the mirror. She bent to take a closer look at the strip of photos. A beautiful young woman with light color hair was mugging it up with a foreboding man dressed in a dark leather jacket and close cropped hair.
"That looks like the jacket on the end of the bed", she thought to herself.
In the first two photos the woman was the only one smiling, the man with her looked resigned and then annoyed in turn. By photo three she had obviously gotten the man to relax as she was kissing his cheek and he looked happier. In the last photo they were kissing each other, arms around each other, oblivious to the camera.
"Who's this?" She asked her eyes still on the photos. She glanced up at the Doctor and was surprised to see a deep sadness in his eyes.
He reached past her and took the photos from the mirror and gazed down at them, a finger unconsciously tracing the outline of the woman's face.
"Rose." he said quietly, his voice a little rough, full of longing. He cleared his throat and started again. "This is Rose. She was my last companion." more carefully this time, his voice neutral although his eyes were still full of emotion.
Martha's brow furrowed in confusion. "But I thought she was with..." she trailed off, unsure of where to take her statement.
The Doctor looked up at her, a sad smile on his face. "That bloke she's with is me. Was me. Before my last regeneration. She loved that daft old face. She loved this one pretty well too."
"But how? I mean, how is that possible and what do you mean by regeneration?"
The Doctor sighed and put the photos gently back on the mirror. He took one last look around the room and caught sight of the jacket. "Ah, that's where I had left it. Hm. Good place for it." Then he guided Martha back into the hallway, shutting the door firmly behind him.
"To answer your question, regeneration is a Time Lord trick. We wear out a body, and generate a new one. Like a phoenix, but without the ashes and fire bit. This is body number ten."
"Ten bodies!" Martha exclaimed.
"Well I am over nine hundred years old." he replied a bit of levity back in his voice.
"Why did you regenerate last time?" She asked.
"Saving her life. Rose." his voice faltered slightly on her name. "I sent her home, to keep her safe. She came back and saved me. Then I had to save her's. It cost me that body. But I've got a perfectly good one here." He smiled, it didn't reach his eyes.
Martha took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried. The room, and Rose, I mean."
The Doctor's face became somber once more. "You're human, curious lot you."
"So... what happened to her? To Rose. Is she..." she trailed off.
"Dead? No." The Doctor rocked back and forth on his feet, hands stuffed back in his pockets. "Lost forever. She promised me forever, as much of it as she could give me. I hadn't felt like that in... well, not since my wife was killed."
"You're wife? You were married?" Martha asked, shocked.
"Yup. Married, children, grandchildren. Gone. All gone." he said, staring blankly over her head at the wall behind her, obviously lost in thought.
"Oh," Martha squeaked, trying to take it all in.
The Doctor shook himself, and continued, "Fate had a different plan. I was trying to save humanity and I couldn't do it without her. I sent her to safety, but she came back, she knew I needed her; I would have failed without her. Plucky doesn't sum it up. She's gone now. Parallel universe and all that. I can't be there, she can't be here, not without causing more deaths then I want to think about. Very Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare would have loved it. "
He smiled again; it still didn't reach his eyes. "Goodnight Martha. Don't forget to pick a room; the jump seat isn't all that comfortable." He turned to go, his hand reaching for the knob to his door.
He paused and looked at her, this time his eyes were sad but kind. "Just not that one," he said quietly. He opened his bedroom door and closed it quietly behind him.