A/N. I appreciate your favourites and follows greatly, lovers (as Kylie would say, should she write fan fiction). But most of all, I appreciate the sole review I have received this time. Thank you!
Anyway… this is the last chapter of Martha being so… not herself. Just this chapter. I promise.
Previously…
The Doctor lost his gift of speech at that moment, meeting Rose's amused look. "Can't just sleep while I'm with you, can I?"
Martha turned her eyes away, leaving without a word.
Chapter Seven
The Risks that We Take
Rose chortled, regarding Martha incredulously, but only addressing the Doctor when the dark-haired human was out of earshot. "What was it I said?"
The Doctor opened his mouth, then closed it again.
The girl blinked, watching him bemusedly. Maybe she shouldn't have said that. "What is it?"
He cleared his throat, barely managing to keep his eyes fixed on hers rather than allowing them wander over her barely covered body shamelessly. Checking Rose out when she wasn't looking was forgivable… but this was not the case tonight.
"First things first. What, in the name of everything holy to you, are you wearing?"
Rose blushed. The white silky garment went barely below her hips and basically everything could be seen through its thin texture… without even trying very much. "A nightie, I guess?"
"What is this made of? A shadow?" the glare was meant for the ship, who blared in protest.
"Never mind," he addressed Rose with an uncomfortable shrug. "The TARDIS is apparently choosing to be straight with making her point tonight. I guess this nightie" - he cleared his throat, uncomfortable – "is her idea, too?"
The companion nodded, choosing to defend the ship's choices this time. "Women wearing things like that to bed is not something unheard of," Rose teased him. "Anyway, the ship wouldn't give me anything else. Don't you like it? Not one bit?"
He loved it. On the brief instances he dared to look down Rose's body and the way the overly provoking nightgown covered so little of her voluptuous, admirable, desirable body- He wanted to touch her. To feel her. Desperately.
The Doctor shook the unwelcome thoughts off. He had kissed her. This was supposed to be enough for a lifetime.
Rose was watching his inner fight with a sad smile on her face. Before it progressed into shame or self-loathing the girl knew he had always been ready to sink in, she did the only thing she thought right, kissing him, the kiss slow and thorough. He answered the kiss eagerly, his hands feeling braver this time. Suddenly feeling her pleasantly warm tongue still in his mouth, the Doctor backed away, ashamed.
"Sorry. So sorry. I shouldn't have-"
"You are supposed to react this way," Rose smiled at him understandingly. "At least you weren't jumping at me the moment you first saw me in my nightwear. You were only following your instincts, and that's fine," she assured him, still feeling the warmth of his unusually intimate embrace lingering on her body. "Besides, I like to know when blokes like what they see."
"Judging from the mark on your neck, dear, he surely does," Donna grinned at them, not saying a word about what Rose was wearing. Before the blonde could react, he wrapped his arms around her possessively, every trace of shame forgotten.
"My absolute favourite couple, you are," the ginger giggled. Just before you proceed – I'd continue whatever you were about to do away from prying eyes, yeah?" – Donna's grin widened when she saw both of them blush furiously – "one of us is panicking and wouldn't stop whining- how about Martha's trip back?"
The Doctor cleared his throat, letting go of Rose. "Er. I- it's going to take time."
"You are too busy with each other, I get that. But someone has to warn Martha about the difficulties you're facing."
Martha has apparently composed herself to return and face them, her words purposefully bitter and biting. "No difficulties in bed, I presume?"
"No. None. Never," he answered sharply without thinking.
Martha Jones could not hide her shock at his brutal reply, but she could not stop herself from reciprocating, neither hearing nor seeing the other two women. "So, Doctor. Am I getting to my exam any time soon, or do you prefer fucking barely-dressed blonde whores to actually helping your friends?"
"I am ashamed, Martha Jones."
"You should be. I can't understand how could you have fallen so low, Doctor. I have been fairly certain you are above these things! Inviting women like her on board? For what? For a quality shag?"
Both Rose's and the Doctor's eyes were completely void of emotion. Either that or both of them were too immersed in avoiding meeting the other's. Rose knew the moment she locked her eyes to his all would be lost. The Time Lord was aware of that too.
"I'll just allow you to vent, Martha," he grimaced, pushing the desire to at least shout at her away. He knew Rose wouldn't like that.
The ginger wrapped one arm around Rose's shoulder, her eyes sending bolts to Martha. "I think the Doctor is ashamed because of having you aboard this time," Donna noted. "Is she always like this?" the redhead addressed the Doctor plainly, aware of the pulsating tension in the room.
"Only when his alien behaviour asks for it," Martha growled, allowing her eyes to meet Rose's, who smiled. She smiled at her. She smiled at her! The dark-skinned companion was too flustered and annoyed to make something other than mockery out of it. But she never got the chance to throw an insult at her… or at anyone.
The Doctor cleared his throat. Having to calm down someone he himself was furious at – if he were to be brutally honest – was hardly his strongest point. Rose was good at that. She was good at so many things, his Rose Marion Tyler… But this was not about her, he reminded himself.
He spoke to Martha icily. "She and I, we know each other. Quite intimately, too, if this interests you so bloody much, Martha Jones. Although it really, really should not matter to you! I think we have established some boundaries during our travels. Hadn't we?" The Doctor was no longer sure.
"Yeah? I bet Rose knew every single thing about you, though?" the companion's words were bitter and purposefully intended to hurt her, the prostitute. After all, she must have been used to this.
In an instant, forgetting all of his original intention to not look at Rose, he was by her side, welcoming the grin Donna gave him before leaving the couple on their own. He grabbed Rose's hand, yet continued talking to Martha. "I shouldn't have spoken of her to you, in the first place. I see that now." His tone was no less harsh than the dark-haired companion's had been. "But guess what - she did."
Donna's concerned voice chirped in at that moment, making it clear she had been following the entire conversation. "I must warn you, Martha," she said. "Don't be too upset if he fails to get you to the correct time and place."
The dark-haired companion grimaced. "Wouldn't be anything new."
The Doctor shrugged at her words. He knew it was not going to work. Knew painfully well his precious ship had her limits when out of power sufficient to transport herself throughout galaxies, even when, for some parallels-shaking reason (that needed to be found and fixed, his Time Lord mind screamed), the travels had become possible again
"Come. All I need is give the TARDIS the correct coordinates." The Doctor spoke to himself and to everyone on board.
Rose Tyler, however, only meant her words for one person. "All you really need is a hand to hold," her pleasant voice joined the conversation, bringing a grin to the Time Lord's face.
"Correct. Can't believe I have survived for so long without it," his face brightened up visibly. Every moment spent without Rose by his side tonight suddenly felt like a moment wasted.
Of course, the amazing Martha Jones had to come in… "Ahem. You were about to get me to my exam. I am already losing hope of attending it this year," she rolled her eyes.
The Doctor stared at her as if she were insane. "Never ever lose hope, Martha. Stay here, I'll go check if we've arrived.
"Why can't I do it?"
"You just can't," he spoke in a hurry. Might be too dangerous. Here, look at the map the TARDIS has put up just for you."
The dark-skinned human was accustomed to being left behind. But with a map she knew like her own hand, the very same that used to hang on her wall at home, then had somehow appeared in her room on the TARDIS… Might be the sentient time ship just fancied London. Or perhaps the map itself. Who could say what the sentient machine liked best? Not her, she assumed bitterly.
The blonde girl eyed the map curiously. It was a map of London of her childhood. "Just look at that! Genius, this!" Rose squealed in excitement, surprising the other girl greatly.
Martha cleared her throat, grimacing with distaste. "Is 'genius' one of the difficult words you have learnt from the 'a word a day' calendar? Just wondering…"
Rose bit back the wish to answer harshly. "You don't need to waste your time in pretending to be nice with me, you know, Martha. The one true genius on board isn't watching us," she turned her head slightly towards the console room, where the Doctor was supposed to be checking if they had landed where they were, according to Martha, supposed to.
Martha's eyes widened at the girl's understanding of the situation. Her decision to avoid addressing the blonde without need was momentarily forgotten. "How… how do you manage to make him do all these things for you? Is this a natural talent of yours? Or is this a talent every call-girl is supposed to possess, wanting to get recognised? Up the ladder, so to speak?" Disdain was dripping off her words. She did not hide her dislike from Rose, but gave her yet another question anyway. "What do you have to entice him so? Or do you have this weird effect on every man?"
"The Doctor's only taking what he's paid for," Rose said, not looking at Martha. "Everything."
The Time Lord and his ginger companion were having a discussion of their own.
"What about disclosing Rose's identity?" Donna asked him worriedly. "She's straining to keep it up, no matter what she lets on!"
"The old girl is determined to wait until Martha realises it herself," the Doctor shrugged at Donna.
"This is ridiculous," the ginger rolled her eyes. "There must be a way. What about making Martha find herself in your room?"
He shook his head. "Rose would not forgive me if the revelation affected the final result. Right, we must return and tell them – Martha, anyway – the trip was unsuccessful."
"You better prepare yourself for an outbreak, then!"
"Naah. It doesn't seem like Martha to me. Allons-y?"
The Doctor's optimism amused Donna greatly, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
"What are we going to do, then? Two weeks, Doctor!"
"Er. Maybe less than that, if we take good care of the TARDIS," he assured her.
"Maybe is not good enough," Donna chastised.
"We could cheat."
"That's the Doctor as I know him!" she grinned, poking him. "Cheat? How?"
Having heard his suggestion, Donna Noble burst out laughing. "Seriously?"
"Yep! Genius, me! Shall we go?"
Donna wondered if she should pity his fair-haired companion in advance. Rose was not going to like it, that much was for certain…
