Chapter LXXIV
Martha's POV
She was reeking of sewers. Not to mention the dirt and dust and... things she didn't want to examine any further that covered her clothes. She just wanted to get rid of them, have a shower and then sleep. She should also eat something, her stomach was grumbling pretty loud every now and then, but she felt too tired.
Was there a shower on this ship somewhere? She was somehow reluctant to ask him to bring her to her flat, who could say if he would pick her up again?
She looked around the console room, and her eyes fell on Mira, who was looking at her in return. Suddenly the other woman turned around to the Doctor and asked, "Do you have a spare-room anywhere in this huge ship of yours?"
He looked at Mira out of narrowed eyes for a moment, as if he had to think about it, then he said, "Yeah, down the corridor, turn left, third turn right, right again, second left, second door on the right."
What?
He had spoken in his usual fast way, and she was far too tired to really grasp the meaning, not speaking of remembering the directions he just gave her. He could really show her, couldn't he? It was his ship, and she was a guest here. But instead, he turned to the console and pressed some buttons. Obviously he thought it done with telling her where to go.
She heard Mira sigh, and then say to her, "Okay, well, come, I'll show you."
She followed the other woman down the stairs, and as they were around the second corner, Mira said quietly, "Don't take it personally."
"Why would I?" she asked in return, feeling weirdly caught. Yes, she actually was taking it slightly personally, was slightly disappointed that he didn't even show her the room.
"Just saying," Mira replied lightly.
Of course she knows.
Despite her being tired and exhausted, she began to understand what it meant to deal with an empath. Sure, most other people would have said just the same as Mira had, but she would have stood a chance to convince them of the opposite. Not so with her. She would always know for certain.
Finally, they reached the door and Mira pushed it open. The room was of a decent size, with furniture that looked just like... Well, normal. Normal human, western furniture as you could find it at IKEA. It was in bright colours, white and light brown wood, but still cosy and comfortable. A door on the far side of the room was leading into a small bathroom.
"It's nice, isn't it?" Mira asked, still standing next to the door.
She looked as if she was about to leave her here on her own, and why wouldn't she? But she didn't want to be alone right now. At least not just now.
"How you confronted the Daleks," she said, not really knowing why she was bringing it up now, "Saying you represent all of mankind – that was pretty cool. Sort of," she added when she realised how she must sound right now. "I don't think I would have dared."
Mira just looked at her for a moment, and she couldn't guess for the life of her what she was thinking.
"Yeah, well," Mira replied eventually, "Thanks I guess. Don't worry, I certainly wouldn't have dared when I was your age."
"Well, that can't be too long ago then, can it?" she said before she couldn't help herself.
Well, Mira was looking young, around her own age, but she could as well be around thirty. Still not much of a difference. So what had happened since she had been 'younger'?
"You're with the military then? Or some sort of representative in your universe?" she hurried to say before Mira could answer her last question, hoping she would just ignore it.
"Yeah, sort of. Both actually, more or less" Mira replied, as fast as she herself had asked her next question.
And for the first time she had the feeling she could actually guess what was going on in Mira's head. Was she glad she had dropped the age-question? Glad she changed topic?
"So, anyway, if you need something, do you think you'll find the way back?"
"Honestly, I'm not too sure..."
"Don't worry, I'll come back in an hour or so and see if you need something, okay?"
"Sure, thanks."
"See you then," Mira replied, left the room and closed the door behind her.
Mira's POV
She had went to the kitchen. She felt as far away from sleep as anyone could feel, so she had decided to make some coffee. Now she was listening to the wheezing and dripping of the coffee machine, standing at the counter, leaning on her elbows, her head hanging down. Not that the coffee would wake her up any further – she was a self-confessed caffeine addict for centuries now, and by now it was merely a placebo effect whenever she felt more awake after a cup of coffee in the morning.
No, she wasn't even feeling tired any more, so there really was no way the coffee would keep her from sleeping. It was as if someone had flipped a switch in her head, flipped it from being exhausted and feeling physically tired to feeling fully awake and rested. She couldn't quite say when it had happened, but most likely at some point when she had confronted the Daleks to buy the Doctor some time. She knew this weirdly restless and driven feeling, and even though she felt rather great right now, she knew how dangerous it was, and where it had led her the last time she had leaned into it. Sure, between then and now were hours and hours of therapy, not to speak of all the months, years and centuries that had past.
But despite all that, it had continued to creep up every now and then, with the only difference she now knew how to handle it. But this time, something was different. It was as if she could really see clearly now that she wasn't just lost in another time, or another galaxy. That had happened before, and she had had to learn to find something else to trust in and to rely on if almost nothing, neither time nor place – were certain. There was something bigger, something that just was, something that would outlast everything; herself, her friends, Earth, even most of the stars and galaxies. It was the beginning and the end, and in between, as long as she herself was alive, it was always there. Wrapping around everything, penetrating everything, keeping it all together. The Universe itself as something constant, besides everything in it constantly and ever changing.
She had grown aware of her special connection to the universe over time, and realised that not everyone was able to feel it like she did. And even the rare times she had been out of her own universe, she had still felt a connection. It had been fragile, subtle, and faint, but it had been there.
Now everything was different. She was floating, falling – and slowly but surely loosing grip on reality. This feelings now of alertness and energy, even though she was absolutely sleep deprived, were just the beginning. She knew it. It was her brain's special way to keep her from completely drowning into depression, from giving up; a last and desperate attempt to find a way out, to focus one last time; to save her – but what if there was no way out?
No goal to reach, nothing to work towards to? She completely and utterly ran out of options. Even if she was able to search this universe for a way out, parsec by parsec, there was a good chance there simply was none and she was merely hunting ghosts. It was frightening enough to be able to watch all this – watching oneself slowly going mad, even if there was a fair chance to make it within reach. But what would happen this time, when there was no chance at all?
And, if that wouldn't be enough, now, now of all times, she was about to fall in love again. Sure, she had had a crush on someone every now and then in her life. Most of the times it was nothing but desire – physical desire – knowing exactly that with most people she would never be on the same level and able to have a relationship with someone as equals. To begin with, her planning horizon was completely different than that of normal humans. She was so much ahead, experience-wise – it was like some hundred year old guy hooking up with a woman of twenty years. There was, in most cases at least, next to no common ground.
Of course, she was still human after all, and friendships worked pretty well, but when it got closer, got to actually share her life with someone - every aspect of her life - there were not only gaps but wide, deep, dark abysms between her and the other person.
So, even if she really felt every now and then like falling in love, then she could simply sit it out, blame it on her hormones or something like that. It would pass, as it always did.
But with him? Oh, she had tried it. She actually was still trying it. But, may it be due to her overall miserable mental state, or due to other things she wasn't aware of, it so didn't work. Sometimes she thought that maybe she was on a good way to handle the whole situation, to handle herself, but then there was a look of him, a touch of hands, and it all came back with a vengeance.
She could not even say what it was about the Doctor (she didn't even know his real name – as if that would matter in any way) that made her consider to share her life with someone again.
Actually, she considered herself pretty much unable to maintain a relationship. Sure, she had been married, but that hat been under – well, not really normal circumstances. He had been anything but normal. In the end, he had known her better than she knew herself, without him being psychic or anything even remotely like that. They just had been made for each other. Simple as that. He had been the one, even though she had refused to believe in the concept of there being 'the one' before. And even though she had thought she had been prepared for the moment when he would die, she had been utterly devastated. But then again, probably one couldn't really be prepared for that. It had taken quite long after his death until she had even considered to reach out to anyone else again.
But, apart from that, she had had little success with this topic. She had tried it, with humans and with aliens, and failed miserably. She had blamed it on the fact that she was immortal, and it simply couldn't work out, even though her father had proved the opposite, more than once.
But it wasn't that easy. She had had a relationship with Atlan, some years – centuries – after her husband had died. Atlan was immortal like her and had been much older than her back then, and it had worked for incredibly hundred-and-fifty years or so. Sure, they had known each other for centuries before they finally came together, they had started out on a whole different level - and maybe that had been the reason it had lasted for that long. But it worked, all in all, until they had been separated, quite suddenly, and she – as anyone else – hadn't known if he was still alive and if she would ever see him again.
But they had met again eventually. Four-hundred years later. Only to realise that he had changed, as well as she had changed – and they had been more a stranger to each other than the moment they had first met. It had been painful to realise, and even more painful to accept it, but over time they had become friends again. And even though she still loved him, still loved who he had been once they had been together (Why would she not? Not loving him any more would mean to regret it, and she didn't regret a single moment.), there was no way back to that time ever again. They both agreed on that. It simply wasn't possible to erase four-hundred years; to undo what time had done to them. It was sad, even tragic - but once they both realised it, they finally made their peace with it and moved on. Always remembering the years they had shared and that they had once been lovers.
So she had reached the conclusion that it must be her – she couldn't blame it on anyone or anything else. Well, maybe on her being an empath, which was difficult in a relationship anyway, but that would come down to it being her as well. She was at peace with it, at least most of the times. It didn't mean she couldn't have the occasional affair or even a bit more. But not much more than that. If staying alone would spare herself a lot of emotional stress and pain as well as leaving behind scorched earth for both, and then having to gather up the shards and what little else was left after a break up, then it was more than worth it. It even outweighed by far the occasional feeling of loneliness she could feel creeping up on her in those quiet moments when she was all on her own.
So why in hell did she even consider to give up what had served her well for centuries because of him? And why was she thinking about it now, of all moments? Not that she had other, more pressing problems at hand. Was it her mind playing tricks? Well, if it would keep her from going mad for a little longer, then-
"You know," she suddenly heard the Doctor behind her and startled, losing grip of the mug she had just taken from the counter. It slid dangerously close to the edge of the counter. "Humans have a concept known as 'sleep'," he continued seemingly unimpressed. "You should try it, though I have to admit it sounds pretty boring."
"What is it with you sneaking up on me all the time?" she said and spun around on her heels.
She saw that the mug was falling down the counter, but before she could even move the Doctor had made a step forwards and grabbed it halfway on its way down to the floor.
"Am I?" he replied as she reached out to grab the mug from him, but he hold it out of her reach. "Or maybe you're just a bit overtired and on edge."
He stared at her for a moment, almost as if trying to read her mind, bent slightly forward, his face quite close to her own, holding her mug behind his back. "Maybe you should cut short on the coffee!"
"What?" she said and watched as he walked over to the kettle.
He had changed into his brown suite again, and also his hairdo looked slightly different.
"You know that there's caffeine in tea as well?" she asked and opened the cupboard. But it was empty. She could have sworn that not ten minutes ago it was filled with cups.
"Yeah, not every tea though. Just the real thing. Let's see... We have... Oh, that's nice. Camomile. Lavender, valerian..." he said as he browsed through the cupboard.
"Valerian? Really? What's it to you how much coffee I drink? Give me the cup!"
"Well, technically, it's nothing to me. Practically though – I guess it's just my emotions getting in the way. Sorry for that."
She stared at him for a moment as he poured the boiling water into the mug, and a strong smell of camomile filled the air. He didn't say that, did he? Was he in for confrontation now? He didn't look like it though, but who could tell with him. No, it was most likely just her who had done more damage than she had wanted with her words.
Whatever was the case, she couldn't deal with any more arguments and fights now. Not in her current state, not without losing it and causing even more damage. Probably it was best to not say anything at all. Instead, she sat down on the table. He followed a moment later, sitting down on the next chair to her around the corner, after placing the mug, the fruit-bowl and a plate with muffins on it in front of her on the table.
He took one of the muffins, but instead of eating it he just turned it in his hands and then put it back on the table. Then there was nothing but silence between them, apart from the TARDIS quietly humming to herself.
She should really ask him why he was about to sacrifice himself. And if he was human, she would have no problem of dealing with whatever had driven him. She had studied Psychology after all, and not only that. She was a trained psychotherapist, even though she had never actually practised it, and yes, it was slightly more than just a few years ago. But she felt totally able to deal with Martha if she would have any problems coping with what just happened. But with him? He who had asked the species who was responsible for the death of his people to kill him? A species who just had to catch up with him time and time again?
"Why did you have to confront the Daleks?" he eventually broke the silence. "You were aware of the fact that they most likely would have kept you, weren't you? That's why I asked Martha."
Doctor's POV
He had noticed the change about her almost as soon as she had spun around to him. Well, probably he had already realised it back on Earth, but there had been no time for it. And, he had to admit, he had been occupied by other things. But now he saw it. All tiredness was gone from her eyes, from her whole posture. Instead she seemed weirdly driven and restless, even now as she was sitting on the table, not moving apart from dangling her bare foot.
She had obviously taken a shower, for her hair was hanging loose and slowly drying, and he could smell a faint scent of lavender and cloves. She was only dressed in a loose, black dress with wide, long sleeves that just covered her knees. Wasn't she cold, barefooted like that?
Now she turned her head to him, looking at him quite dumbfounded.
"And what do you think they would have done to Martha once they got tired of her?" she replied. "Do I need to remind you of Skaro? How quick they were with exterminating the people there? I was actually hoping that they would scan me and take me for important enough to let me live."
Oh well, there definitely was some logic to it, he thought. Actually quite a lot logic. More than he liked. They wouldn't have killed Martha for asking a few questions, would they?
"And then, in the theatre," he decided to drop the previous topic. No need to pursue if one couldn't win. "You didn't need to come up on the chairs with me and face them. I mean, I almost dare say I'm not the only one letting his emotions get in the way."
She blinked at him, an expression on her face he knew all to well by know. She was about to explode. Well, no surprise here, although he couldn't really say why he was provoking her. Or even if he actually was trying to provoke her. Yes, maybe he did. If it was his fault to let his emotions get in the way too often, then it was hers to not listen to her feelings. She could not really rationalise everything, could she?
"At least I didn't ask them to kill me!" she yelled at him. Oh well, seemed as if he really knew her by now. At least when it came to the being-about-to-explode part. "What else was I supposed to do, hm? Let you get shot? Leave Martha – and me, by the way – stranded in the 1920s? Do you really want to know why I was up there with you?" she asked, but didn't wait for a reply. "I was hoping to push you down before they shoot you! Oh, and, just in case you wonder, she's fine. Martha. She's sleeping, I just checked on her."
"Fine!" he replied. "You wanted her with us!"
Well, at least in the beginning it had been her idea. He braced himself for whatever words she was about to throw at him next, but, to his surprise, she covered her face with her hands, saying quietly, "I know."
Then she looked up and at him again. There was no anger, no rage, in her face any more.
"I know," she repeated quietly and then continued watching him, biting her lip.
He suddenly felt drawn back to when they had been in the console room together for the first time, just after he had rescued her. She had just looked at him, like no human ever had before. And she had been able to see who he was. He suddenly felt naked under her look, very naked. Well, maybe naked wasn't the right word – exposed, that was it. He couldn't help it but he had to lower his gaze.
"I'm sorry," she finally said quietly. "But I don't know what to do. I mean, I know quite a lot now, about you, and the Daleks, even though I can't even begin to understand what it must mean to be confronted by them time and time again, after all they did. And frankly, I still can't get my head around that you would actually have helped Caan, that you stopped me from destroying Skaro." He looked up and in her eyes again, as she continued. "Honestly, I can't. If it was for me I would have freed the universe from them at the first opportunity. I..." She paused and looked down, her next words were almost inaudible. "Maybe... I think I would have thought like you once, a long time ago. I always considered myself quite forgiving. But obviously not any more."
She looked up at him again as if she wanted him to say something. But he didn't dare. He could feel that the whole atmosphere, everything between them, had changed, if only for this one moment. It was just them now, no provocations, no games, and, maybe, no hiding. He had no idea if and when such a moment would ever come again, so he didn't dare to break it by saying something wrong.
"Well," she finally continued, "And then you wanted them to kill you. You must have known that that wouldn't change a thing. They would have continued, continued until no one is left. So... Why?"
It seemed that now she actually was waiting for an answer. He was still afraid to say something wrong, so he tried it with at least half of the truth.
"Mira, I.. I just lost it. It was stupid, okay? And you might want to remember that one and mark this day somewhere, it's not often that I admit I did something stupid, so..." Oh well. He suddenly stopped himself, realising he started to babble again. "I lost it. Won't happen again."
"Sure?" she asked and suddenly took his hand that was resting on the table. For a moment he thought she wanted to get into telepathic contact, but she didn't even try it. She was really only holding his hand.
"Listen," she continued, "I still think there's more than you told me. I... I know it. I mean, I heard what the Beast said on Kroptor, and then the Daleks... And I don't think it's something particularly good. Quite the opposite. And I know how hard it is to live with... with something one did and... to deeply regret it. That sort of regret which is not only regret but guilt. I almost might say guilt is the hardest feeling to live with. And-" She paused as if she was thinking about what to say. If to say something. "I know it can drive one to do weird things. And just because I am absolutely incapable of talking about me and my problems doesn't mean you can't talk to me about yours."
Now it was on him to be utterly dumbfounded. Did she know how close she was? Had he really done that out of feeling guilty? No, no way, he hadn't thrown himself in front of the Dalek's weapons out of guilt. He had been tired, and he had lost it.
Really?
His thoughts were racing, and somewhere between all these thoughts he found time to wonder if that's what humans meant when they say their heads were spinning.
"By the way," she said now, and he tried to focus again, "I think I saw my fare share of things someone could felt guilty for in my life. Enough to make me question if there actually is something like good and evil, because a lot of evil things started out with the best intentions, so... Well. As said, if you ever feel like talking, then - don't hesitate."
"Thank you," he said quietly, not being able to think about anything else to say.
It was of course out of the question to tell her what he had done. He wanted to, at least some part of him. He just wanted to tell her, to make her understand. But, most of all he realised, he wanted her to absolve him from his guild, from what he had done. But of course, she couldn't do that. No one could, not even he himself. There was no absolution for his deeds.
"But there's nothing I would have to talk about," he added. "But you should really get some sleep now, hm?"
"If I only could," she sighed, seemingly accepting that their conversation was over.
"Well, I could read something to you, if you want... Worked once. Although I didn't expect to be that boring when reading to someone..." he said and managed a lob sided grin.
He watched how she looked down at his hand she was still holding. He wanted her to say yes, and somehow he was almost certain she secretly wanted the same.
"Some other time maybe," she said finally, stood up and headed for the door.
After a few steps she turned around again, grabbed the mug and one of the muffins.
"Have a good night," she said and was gone.
AxidentlGoddess, djmegamouth, NeoMulder, OneWhoReadsToMuch (did you change your nick?), bored411: Thanks for leaving a review :-)
