Sorry this took so long. Been a bit of a wild ride.
And as for this chapter? Blame Moffat
The morning light peeked in through the pale curtains of her bedroom. Martha had a hard time sleeping in these small hours of the morning. She was alone, again, as usual, par for the course. He had not been home in days, and she had begun to wonder of her logic to stay and try to form some small little life here.
Sighing, she through the covers aside and dug for her bunny slippers. They were a present from her husband, though he scoffed at the idea of bunny slippers. "They're Cartzulian foot beasts." He insisted. "They are mighty foot hunters, wearing these will ensure that that they are tricked into not eating your toes."
"Won't they think of other things to do then?" she smirked.
He then tweaked her nose and warned her of having such dirty thoughts, only to give hr a thousand more for the next hour.
Oh, how she was missing that incredibly insanely manic alien of hers. But he was off, on yet another important mission of mercy while she was here, waiting.
It wasn't that she did not want to go with him; in fact she hated to see that old weathered box disappear from atop her mum's roses. But, she had wanted to spend time with her family, time she knew she would never be able to get back.
In the end, it was always about time, wasn't it?
She plodded along the floor, Sunday morning in the cottage always made her smile, she knew that the rest of her family would be over later to have a raucous meal, even her father and his girlfriend would come over, and often there was little to no bloodshed. She loved living with her mum, but she looked forward to the times when her whole family was together again, kind of like old times.
Most of the time, Amy and Rory would drive up with little Will. She loved that little boy, in him she could pour all of her misfired maternal feelings, then send him home with his parents properly spoiled.
Payback was going to be a real bitch when the time came.
The kitchen held no good morning Sunday smells, and Martha realized that her mum was not in the house. Francine insisted upon cooking on those Sundays, she wanted to be the Queen of the domicile one say a week, and Martha allowed her indulgence, and it was not as if she herself intended to cool anything of the sort. In fact, the cooking thing completely befuddled her, this far out in the country it was a blessing, nowhere to order take away from in a pinch.
Nowhere to run to baby, nowhere to hide.
She put the kettle on and puttered around the kitchen, assuming her mother had left to hit the shops for dinner fixings. Martha stared around the large kitchen of her still newly purchased house. She had not stopped to consider that her need for a large old house was because of what she knew would come to be.
Eventually.
The window facing the garden had not been opened, yet, Martha smiled at her mother's quick departure, that was usually the first thing she did every morning on her way to her precious roses. Francine loved the sun, loved to sit at the table and watch it bend over the hills to the south of the house. But, when Francine switches over to whirlwind mode, she barely takes time to notice the passing of the day.
But she usually remembers her purse.
Martha, having lived long enough with a haphazard lifestyle and endless CSI repeats begins to worry. "Mum?" she calls through the house. "Mum, are you here?"
No answer.
She checked out of the window in the parlor to find her mother's car was still where it was. Panic began to run through her veins like cold water, and for a moment she is tempted to make a call for the Doctor to come home and help her find her mother.
Martha jogged to the back door and threw it open, hoping her mother had gone out of character and decided to work in the garden on a Sunday morning rather than work in the garden.
She got as far as the front porch.
Her Mother was seated on the stone bench near the back of the yard, speaking with someone that Martha could not decipher.
"Mum?" she asked loudly.
"Martha." Her mother waved her over. "Nice to see you awake, you should come over and say hell."
Mum, leave it to her to make friends with every wandering passerby. Well, every wandering passerby that did not land his ship on her flower bed on a regular basis. But as she advanced further, she realized how untrue her first analysis was.
"You!"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
She wasn't supposed to go. Her mother had told her to wait for her sister, but she had always been a child bent on doing things on her own. It was only four blocks to the library, a short walk and one Martha was sure she could have done in her sleep.
Besides, Tish was three years older and held no truck for smaller siblings who often tagged behind. Nor did Tish have any interest in a library of any kind.
"Too much like school." The twelve year old sniffed wisely."I'm busy.'
She had packed herself a lunch, a couple of pounds for some chocolate at the little bodega next to the old building, and her umbrella. She always took her umbrella with her. It was important to be prepared for any emergency.
Martha Jones tucked her small hands into her pockets and waited patiently for the street lights to change color.
By the time she had made it to the library, the rain had started in earnest, and as she slipped into the small building, she inhaled deeply of the ancient smell of books and paper. She perused the children's section only to realize she had read all of the books in the tiny section. She made her way up the stairs to the big person's library, ten times the amount of books and they seemed harder and more…real.
A smile crept across her lips at the uncharted naughtiness of exposing these books. Her mother and sister always steered her away from these stacks; too mature, too young. All of the reasons resonated in her mind as she let her finger drag across the spines of books with funny titles.
There were so many, she hardly knew where to start.
"What are you looking for?" she heard from her right.
Martha turned to find an elderly gentleman standing at her side. He seemed to come out of nowhere like in those stupid cartoons her brother loves to watch. "My mother says I am not supposed to talk to strangers." She sniffed defiantly before turning back to her worship.
"Your mother sounds like a wise woman." The man agreed with a kind smile. He kneeled lower to meet her height. "I bet she is terribly proud to have a wonderfully smart daughter who takes her advice."
Martha opened her mouth to say thank you, but grinned at the man's joke. "I have to go." She shrugged.
He rose back to his usual height and sighed. "It's ok, I am sort of a librarian. What kind of book are you looking for, hmm?" he asked.
Martha shuffled her feet and spoke. "I read all of the books downstairs; they're all boring baby books."
The elderly man grinned down at her. "Oh my yes, I know all about needing to find new things, make new paths." He nodded.
"So," Martha went on, feeling an odd comfort in this man's presence. "I wanted to see some of the big people books here. Maybe find something that I have not read." She turned around in awe in the middle of the aisle. "There are so many books here."
"Yes there are," The man in the funny clothes mimicked her awe of the books. "I have been places with far more books than this.'
"Really?" she asked.
"Oh yes," he nodded. "Read them all too."
Martha folded her small arms and fixed a very Francine like glare at the man. "Now you are just having me on."
He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Honest. I have read most of them. The thing about books is, they are little worlds aren't they?"
"Yeah," she nodded, but even in her nine year old mind, she could tell that he was not lying about having read so much.
"A very famous author once wrote that the writer is a creator of worlds. A creator of worlds, can you imagine the power behind that?"
"No," she admitted.
"I mean, my dear I have been some places, I have seen some worlds, but none as powerful as the ones the writer creates."
"Right." Martha nodded, having the sincere impression that this man was used to ramblings that often digressed into his own mutterings.
But the man seemed to ignore her. "But the worlds are full of dangers. There are things that hide in the dark, things that you must look out for. For all the beauty in those worlds, there is danger too. Maybe that is what makes them so beautiful."
"I just wanted to find a good book to read."
"Ah," the elderly man began. "I may be able to help you with that." He began to rummage through his pockets and somehow produced a rather thick book. "This book will help you. Entertain as well as educate. There are worlds here, Martha. Beautiful and dark. One must exist for the other to be so appreciated."
"How did you get that into your pocket?" Martha asked as he held out the thick book to her.
"Someday you will far better understand the marvels of the universe, "he smiled. "This will help you to know your little corner of it. "
She took the book from him and looked at the cover. "Is it any good?" she asked suspiciously.
"My dear," he smiled that gentle but dangerous smile. "It is the best."
"Adults always say that." She pouted.
"Adults say a lot of things. I am sure your mother tells you things all of the time. You should listen to her."
"She yells a lot."
"She yells because she cares. She warns you about going off on your own because she cares."
Martha shrugged and tucked the book under her arm. "I should go home now then." But just as she spoke Martha heard her name being called from behind her.
"We were worried sick about you!" her mother gushed.
"I just wanted to get a book." Martha defended.
"If the librarian had not called we would have gone to the police."
"Ah," the elderly man began. "You tell them not to wander off. Make rules about it actually. But, they have a will of their own."
"Mr. Smith?" Francine asked the man next to Martha. "Thank you for calling."
But the elderly man waved off her gratitude. "My granddaughter is infamous for running off. Nearly want to put a leash on that one." He smiled.
Francine nodded knowingly. "Don't I know it! You find a bargain on one, let me know."
"Oh this is a bright one, I don't think she will be running off again anytime soon, right Martha?" he smiled down at her.
"Mum, he gave me a book." Martha beamed.
"Martha, thank Mr. Smith for keeping you out of trouble.
"But Mum, he pulled this big book out of his pocket, like a magician."
Francine smiled and indulgently patted her daughter on the head. "Thank you Mr. Smith, are you sure you want to part with that? It seems old and…"
But he waved her away again. "I have so many copies of the Complete Works of Shakespeare, I can spare one."
Francine shook his hand and thanked him again. The man dipped down again to Martha's height. "Words have power Martha, remember that." He patted her on the head and turned to walk away.
"Thank you for the book Mr. Smith." She waved, but he kept walking.
XXXXXXXXXXX
"Timey wimey my ass." Martha sighed.
"That was a really old book." Francine laughed. "When I saw how old it was, I tried to go back to the library and find you, but no one knew who you were."
"Well, I had a folio, but I think you would have gotten suspicious from that one." He smiled.
"It figures," Martha shook her head. "You would give me Shakespeare."
The Doctor looked at her with kind eyes. "I would give you anything Martha Jones. "
Martha shook her head and giggled. "You flatterer. " she accused. "But, what you did isn't it sort of cheating?"
"I wanted to keep you safe.' He nodded. "There was a very bad man in the neighborhood, and I wanted to make sure you did not end up in his clutches."
Francine's face went ashen. "Oh, I remember, he was the reason I was so incensed at you taking off. There was a man that was abducting girls, your age, your features Martha. I was beside myself."
"I wanted a book to read."
"And, I wanted you to stay off the streets until that mad man was caught." Francine answered.
"No running off." The Doctor shook his finger at Martha.
"Now I feel bad for having slapped you." Francine shook her head.
"Spoilers, Mum" Martha nudged her mother.
"Well, I do. He kept you safe, and had I known that he was him, I would have felt a lot better about all of the things I perceived as his dragging you into." Francine shrugged.
"Don't worry." The Doctor patted Francine on the shoulder. "I am sure on some level I had it coming. Or will have it coming, or…" he shrugged and smiled.
Francine invited him to stay for dinner, but he declined, He rose from his seat and Martha was struck by just how old he really seemed. "This is you right?" she asked as she walked him back to his TARDIS.
"It is me, dear." He answered.
"For you, I mean what number is this?" she asked.
"The original." He stated proudly.
"But you seem so much older and wiser."
"Oh Martha, you are just seeing a more weary me. Don't let outer appearances fool you, I have been in this body for a long time, it's getting near time for me to change. I can feel it every time I come out of that box." He pointed his cane at the blue box.
Martha nodded and smiled. "But it's still you. And I love you."
He seemed to stand a little straighter. "Of course you do, I would not be here if you did not." He patted her shoulder. "I suppose I had to be younger to keep up with you."
She laughed at his bawdy humor. "That you do." She smiled.
"And, it's good for me. You I mean, having someone that I know is there. The TARDIS is my home, but this," he widened his arms to show the house, and her. "This is where I belong."
Martha hugged the older man before he got into his ship. "Go easy on him Martha, its not like this is an easy thing for him."
"Oh I know you Doctor, you can pretend, but this sort of thing, its right in line with your behavior."
The Doctor shook his head and sighed. "Still. Intentions and all that."
"Yeah," she nodded back. "Road to Hell and all that."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"I want to see them all." She leveled at the man in the bow tie.
"All?" he asked confused. "All of what?"
Martha folded her arms as she sat on the bed. He had finally turned up in the middle of dinner, bearing strange but tasty treats, fantastic tales of bizarre worlds, and a wolfish grin.
"I want to see every picture of you that is out there. Don't make me call Colonel Mace, I would rather you offered the information willingly."
"Martha"
She raised her right hand to put off his attempt at talking his way out of it. He was far too good at that. "Don't placate me, Doctor. I am not in the mood,."
"I was keeping you safe." He defended. "And, a year together, and it's just now you ask for my other faces?"
"You were meddling!" she fired back.
"Meddling? How is that meddling?" he was wringing his hands, a sure sign to Martha that he was suitably worried about her level of anger.
Good.
"Is that why you took me to 1599, Globe Theatre?"
The Doctor smiled and looked upward reverently. "Ah, our first date."
"Was it? Or are there other versions of you that have taken me off for coffee and chips?"
The Doctor came to sit next to her on the bed. "I took you because I gave you that book, yes. Remembering it did not come for me until I saw you that day at Royal Hope. I smiled the first time I saw you, winked too."
"I have said it before and I will say it again. This is mad. Bat shit crazy mad."
"I don't want this to become a thing here Martha." He warned darkly
"How is this not going to be a thing between us, Doctor?" She railed. "It's as if I have no control over my own life." She sighed finally.
The Doctor came and placed his arm around her, tentatively. "You have plenty of control Martha." He sighed.
"Do I? I mean how often has this happened Doctor? We have been together for a year and I am still wondering how often I am going to have these sudden revelations."
"It's not like that."
"You aren't even supposed to be crossing time lines or anything like that. Aren't you afraid of blowing up the universe or something?"
"No, it's not the same." He assured her.
"Enlighten me."
But he sat silent, and the anger seemed to build in the room until it seemed to become a tangible, living thing.
"You could have told me, Doctor." She accused. "A year together and you could have said something before now. You could have said something at the Globe. It would have been a fun anecdote."
"Where's the fun in that?" he answered. "It's much more fun to sit here and be yelled at, isn't it?"
She fired a look at him that removed the smirk on his face and left the sulky one. "Things have to happen in a certain way Martha. Telling you things could have changed the way things played out. And, I am limited in what I know and when I know it. You said yourself, stepping on butterflies."
"Now I know how the bloody butterfly feels." She clenched.
"Things have to unfold in a logical way, we can't know everything. Its not as if I am a fortune teller." He admonished. "Forbidden knowledge could have unmade the universe."
"So can cheap parlor tricks." She bit, losing the battle with her own anger."How many times?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"What?" he asked innocently.
"Doctor," she warned. "How many times?"
"Weee-eeellll…."