Chapter Two- Martha Jones
Martha Jones was sitting in her living room chair reading a book, when suddenly a loud crash reverberated throughout the house. She looked up in astonishment to see a tall, punkish teenager standing over the remnants of her favorite vase, face full of guilt. "Excuse me, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed. "I can pay for that- but look, I finally found you! It took ages- do you even bother to list your name in a phone book?" He trailed off as Martha looked at him in amazement.
"Who are you?" she questioned loudly, thoroughly annoyed. "You barge into my home uninvited, break my favorite vase," the teenager's face grew even guiltier, "and then have the nerve to act like you know me! So go on then! Who the hell are you?"
The teenager's mouth slanted upward in a small smile. "Oh, but I do know you," he replied softly. "Martha Jones. We fought Daleks together. And the Master, remember him? Whole world held hostage for an entire year, and no one even knows."
Martha's face filled with shock. "Oh my God, Doctor, it's you. It's really you." She stared, stunned, and then stood up to walk over and embrace him tightly. The Doctor hugged her back.
"It's been too long," he said. And that was true. 40 years for her, she looked to be in her 60s now, and so many more for him. So many more.
Martha pulled back and surveyed the Doctor. "You're a punk!" she exclaimed. The Doctor laughed. "But how?"
"To put it simply, regeneration. All Time Lords can do it."
"Oh." Martha wasn't all that surprised. Traveling with the Doctor made her accustomed to some pretty strange things.
The Doctor was grateful when Martha didn't push the subject further. He didn't want to explain why he was really there.
"I don't even know what to say," Martha said after a brief pause. "I always thought you'd come back. Always hoped. Ever since you left." Her eyes met his, glaring accusingly.
The Doctor hesitated, unsure of what to say. "Well, it's just that… we moved on. You didn't need me anymore. Your family needed you. And anyway, you wanted to leave."
"But not forever," Martha cried. "I told you that! But you just left! Is that what you do to everyone, Doctor? You just leave?"
The Doctor had heard this accusation many times before, but hearing it once again brought a fresh wave of guilt. "It's not like that, you don't understand. You could never have a proper life traveling with me."
"But I could have tried!" Martha replied, by this point shouting. Then she sighed. "This isn't worth it. Shouting about it isn't gonna change what happened." She stopped abruptly, and they both knew the conversation was over.
"So what have you been doing the last 40 years?" the Doctor asked. "Come on, you must have done something."
"Well, I worked with Torchwood a bit. Nothing extreme. Just stopped a couple of alien invasions." The Doctor grinned. 'Not extreme' he thought, chuckling to himself.
"And I got my degree in medicine, of course. Been a practicing doctor for the last 35 years."
"That's great!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Just great! I always knew you were good."
"What about you?" Martha asked. "Any new companions?"
"Oh, a few here and there," the Doctor replied nonchalantly. "There was this one robotic, sentient tree I brought along for a bit. Great guy, always… Oh!" And with a gasp, he collapsed to the floor.
"Doctor, are you alright?" Martha exclaimed as she knelt down beside him. "What happened?"
"It's… nothing. Nothing," the Doctor said. But his pale-white face gave him away. "I've gotta get back to the TARDIS, that's all." He used the chair to push himself up, then lurched toward the door.
"Doctor, wait!" Martha cried. He turned to face her. "Will I ever see you again?"
The Doctor sighed. "No," he said. "That's why I came. Goodbye, Martha Jones."
"But Doctor," Martha began to ask, but he was already gone. Even as she flung open her front door, the one he'd just gone out of, and looked down the street, nothing of him could be seen. With a sigh, she sat back down in her living room chair and continued reading her book. A single tear trickled down her cheek.
