how I looked in that mirror
Three Times Martha Jones Wonders Why
(lyric from Richard Ashcroft's "Why Do Lovers?")
Author's note: I'm not sure how well these three fit together, but I tried!
I.
It was so beautiful. All day, all night, pink skies and an almost desert-like planet top that literally never ended. It felt wrong to try and label this place a planet because it felt like so much more than that. There was a feeling that filled her when she had first stepped out of the TARDIS onto the surface of this place. The Doctor had said that it didn't even have a name.
It was paradise to her.
But he seemed unsettled to be here. She had asked and he said he'd never been here before and he had said it in such a way that she believed him. But he couldn't seem to stand still.
"Martha!" His voice as he called her name was excited, no, angry, no! It was loud, though.
"Would you look at this?" He thrust a handful of what looked like gemstones at her. "These do not, I know it, they are not natural here. Something's off - Oh! Did you see that?! They glow. They don't belong here!"
Her mind sort of drifted off as he rattled off places one could find these odd stones naturally and why he's so excited, nay, ecstatic about finding them here.
It gives him something to do. Away from her because the TARDIS somehow refuses to translate the language they speak here (which actually makes this place that much more intriguing) and Martha knows that the Doctor won't want to be held back as he (of course he will) investigates.
And he won't really care that she's being left alone on what he described as a benign planet.
Sure, it'll be somewhere in the back of his head that she shouldn't, or can't, be left alone for too long, but he'll delight in the chance to be without her, she's so sure of it.
As predicted, he heads off to investigate and Martha turns back to watch some native ceremony (it's the only way to describe what she's witnessing) with as soft a sigh as she can manage.
II.
It was 1913. Not Martha's favourite year.
She shouldn't be here, this shouldn't be something she'd want to dive into. This wasn't an adventure.
Martha had seen a scared, desperate man who needed to rely on her and she didn't hesitate. And while he got to be a good, normal human being, do something that he loved in some way, she had to deal with being unseen, unheard and unappreciated.
She'd be ashamed of that last one if she could figure out why this was the better course in the first place. Even she thought better than to hide from one's issues. Or in this case, enemies.
Martha had a bad feeling about this.
III.
It's an official day of rest, he proclaims. The TARDIS idles, and the Doctor is keeping some sort of eye on the console and she's lounging on the bench that feels like it's been there for far too long.
It's most likely as old as he is, she thinks. It's a little uncomfortable, but she feels fine with the silence that currently fills the TARDIS and she doesn't wish to give it up.
It wasn't easy to capture an easy silence with this man. But they somehow managed it. While she watches him, she wonders how relaxing it is to fiddle with the buttons and controls. But his face is calm and relaxed. It's lovely.
She's contented enough that she sort of lets her head lull back. There's not really a headrest, but she hangs it back a moment. When she slowly lets her head up, he's looking at her. There's this weird frown she doesn't often see. He doesn't even notice her seeing this.
He lowers his head slowly, and rather violently pulls some lever. Her hand tightens a little where she's gripping her seat, but nothing happens.
"You look tired, Martha." He looks like there's more he wants to add to that, but doesn't. His face, it's not relaxed anymore and she could have sworn her name was choked out.
She just nods at him and sits straight on the bench, making the move to get off.
His attention is still on the controls as he moves around the bench, but he quickly reaches out and squeezes her shoulder. She tenses a bit because it's unexpected. She sees that his other hand is held in a loose fist.
There never really is a day of relaxation with the Doctor. Probably will never be a day of rest either.
And Martha never really blinks as she leaves the room.