Complications

by Kathryn Andersen

Chapter 3: Face the Future

Martha pinched the bridge of her nose and told herself to ignore the pain. It wasn't worse than the cold nights and sore feet, the burns and cuts and hunger she'd endured in her walk around the world; it wasn't worse than the gnawing fear and terrible responsibility. It was just a headache. The Doctor was here; she wasn't going to die.

"Martha?"

She looked up. The Doctor's eyes were steady on her. He still wore the thick, chunky glasses he'd put on when he'd started examining the medical data they'd collected.

She said the first thing that came into her head. "You're not really farsighted, are you?"

'What?" the Doctor said. "I try to be, though choosing between possible futures isn't always easy."

"I meant the glasses," Martha said.

"Ah." He took them off and held them up. "Well, no, not really. I just like glasses. Very useful, actually. They say things without having to say them."

"What, like look at me, I'm smart?" she teased.

"Smart? I'm brilliant!" He grinned at her. "I don't need glasses for that."

That smile made her forget her resolve, forget the heartbreak, forget the elephant in the room, the unanswered question of what she wanted to do about her own sudden alienness. It almost made her forget her headache.

"So what do they say?" she asked.

"I like to think of them as a great big flashing 'do not disturb' sign hanging above my head," the Doctor said. He placed the glasses carefully back in an inside pocket, and frowned. "You're looking a bit peaky."

"Headache," she admitted. "I tried taking aspirin, but-"

"Aspirin? You took aspirin?" he exclaimed. "Don't you know better than to - well, of course you don't. How many did you take?"

"I threw it all up," she said.

"Good," he said briskly. "It's toxic."

"It's poisonous?" she exclaimed. "What does it do?"

He held up a hand. "Not that poisonous. Causes sudden hypotension; might make you faint, stop a heart, nothing fatal."

"But I've only got one heart."

"So it's a good thing you threw them up, then, isn't it?"

"Any other near-fatal things I might accidentally do to myself?" she asked. I wish this came with a handbook. But he's all I've got.

"Aspirin's the most likely, and you know that now."

"Is there something else I can take for this headache?"

He put his hands on her shoulders. "Sleep."

"Sleep? But-"

"Sleep is what you need right now. Don't worry, you'll find you need less of it, as time goes on."

A cold finger of dread touched Martha again, as she was reminded that she was no longer at home in her own skin. She shook her head, and winced at the pain.

"Sleep," he said firmly. "I'll still be here when you wake."

-oOo-

The last year had given Martha a lot of practice at snatching sleep when it was offered. The cold and dark, the fear and pain, all of it had to be ignored when capturing a much-needed respite from her endless walk. Stillness and calmness, that was the secret recipe for sleep, and a camp-bed in Jack's office was a lot more comfortable than a freezing barn. She slept, and dreamed.

She dreamed of a storm at sea. But the clouds were the colour of rainbows, and the sea boiled, lit from below with a sullen orange-red fire. She was suspended between sea and sky, a still point in a turning world. Lightning bolted through her, thunder rumbled her bones. Each flash lit an image: people, places, things. The TARDIS, lit golden, then sullen red; her mother, yelling; Tish on the phone; herself, walking in black, the Doctor by her side; herself again, striding down a corridor, white lab coat on; a golden chain, twinkling in a green light; cold rain, bright sun; her breath fogging in a grey dawn. She itched all over, and couldn't move a muscle. She wanted to be afraid, but even that was suspended, waiting. She was a vessel, filled to bursting, and yet she did not break.

She woke all at once, fully aware of where she was and what had happened. Eyes shut, she took stock. The headache was gone. There was an ache in her chest, but no worse than one would get from an overworked muscle.

And someone was in the room with her. She was on her feet, eyes wide, almost as soon as the thought had registered.

It was the Doctor, sitting at Jack's desk.

"You!" she said, rolling her eyes, and sat down again.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yes, thanks," she said. "Why don't I feel different?"

"Are you sure about that?" he asked quietly. "How long were you asleep?"

"Six hours, twenty three minutes - how did I know that?"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh," she said. "And it will only get stronger, won't it?" Inescapable, drifting away from humanity, into the orbit of another sun. His sun.

"Yes," he said.

"No wonder you don't wear a watch." She could feel the seconds passing, tick, tick, tick, like a flicker in the corner of the eye, not noticed until one paid attention to it.

They were silent for a moment.

"This shouldn't have happened," the Doctor said. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," Martha said. "If I hadn't gone under cover-"

"But if I hadn't altered your immune system-"

"I might have died," Martha said. She could see it suddenly, the tangled chain of cause and effect that had brought her to this moment. The world was spinning beneath her; she was giddy with it. She shut her eyes, but that just made it worse. She clutched the edge of the bed, trying to steady herself, but the world kept on spinning.

"What's the matter?"

"Dizzy," she gasped. "Everything's turning. The sky is turning."

He was out of his chair and sitting beside her in a moment. "I've got you." His arm was around her shoulders, holding her close. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

I need him. But I don't want to lose myself in him. She was falling into the sun. Last time, the Doctor had rescued her. This time, the Doctor was the sun she was falling into. Pull yourself together, girl. You're not second-best. She blinked back the tears that were swimming in her eyes, and took a deep breath.

"I'm fine," she said.

He eased his arm away from her shoulders, but not completely; one hand he kept on the shoulder nearest him, a touch of comfort.

"I figured out why your lymphocites hadn't reverted," the Doctor said. "Really stupid of me not to check, I'm sorry, but you seemed fine, and you actually were fine, and so was I, because Gallifreyan DNA resists mutation, so it kind of took over, because it coped better than the human DNA in your bone marrow-"

"Doctor, what are you talking about?"

"Lazarus's machine," he said. "Didn't I say that?"

"No, you left that bit out."

"Ah," he said. "Well, anyway, that's why you still had a Gallifreyan immune system." He smiled at her like a boy who'd just solved a brain-teaser.

Are we just puzzles to him? No. But he loves solving puzzles, and I wouldn't want that to change. "Here's a puzzle for you," she said. "Why didn't all my blood turn Gallifreyan?"

"Tailored genes," the Doctor said. "I'm not completely clumsy."

"Anything but," she said with a small smile. "You didn't intend this to happen, but it has anyway." She straightened and put her hands on her knees. "I'm stuck."

"Don't think of it like that," the Doctor said gently. "Please."

"How should I think about it, then?" she asked. "I don't want to be looking backwards, wanting to be human when I can't be."

"Look forwards," he said. "You're on the threshold of boundless opportunities. Sieze them."

"Carpe diem?" she said dubiously. But I don't know what to do. And I have to make up my own mind, not follow him all the time.

He took her hand. "Come with me, Martha. Let me show you the universe."

She took a deep breath. Only one word, that was all she had to say. The hardest word of all. "No."

His face fell, and he let go her hand.

She almost reached out to him then, but stopped herself. Am I a comet burning in his wake, or am I my own star? With that thought, the perfect solution came to her, and she almost laughed aloud. "You." She poked him in the chest. "Come with me." She pointed to herself.

He blinked. "I come with you?"

"Let me show you something for a change," she said. Even as she spoke, the plan became clearer in her mind. "Let me show you the world; the world that we saved. The world that I walked for you." She opened her palm, gesturing a curve of invitation. "The way it is now, not the future or the past. Let's see the things we saved it for: normal life. A year that was, for the year that wasn't."

"Fine, we can-"

"And no TARDIS."

"What?"

"I walked for a mile in your shoes, now you walk for a mile in mine."

"But I can't leave the TARDIS!" the Doctor said.

"Of course you can," Martha said. "You can park her here in Cardiff, let her rest and refuel." She gave him a teasing smile. "If you think she'll get lonely, I'm sure Jack wouldn't mind popping in on her now and then."

He rolled his eyes. "Give Jack free reign on my TARDIS and she wouldn't recognise me when I got back."

She smiled. "Jealous of Jack, are you? Maybe I should just stay here..."

"But you don't want to stay here," he said. "And neither do I."

She held out her hand. "So are you coming?"

"No TARDIS," he mused. "What about a vortex manipulator?"

"Only if you teach me how to build one," she said.

"Brilliant idea!" He grinned. "You strike a hard bargain, but I accept." He shook her hand. "Deal, Doctor Jones."

She smiled. "Deal, Doctor Smith." She led the way out the door. "Let's go tell Jack what he's babysitting."

~finis~

Author's Notes

Inspirations:

The beginning of "Complicated" by padawanpooh gave me the idea of a cascade of medical complications for one of the Doctor's companions, in which medical interference to save her life made her less and less human. Then I realized that the scenario in the Torchwood episode "Reset" meant that I could be almost canonical with this idea, which meant that Martha was the obvious companion for it to happen to.

"Dreaming In Metaphors" by Yahtzee convinced me of the possibility of Doctor/Martha and made me want to give them a happy ending. Not that this is actually Doctor/Martha, but it's a step closer to it than canon went.

"Persephone" by Carmen Sandiego convinced me that Martha-as-a-Time-Lord could actually work without being self-indulgent wish-fulfilment.

I unashamedly stole the idea of other people calling the Doctor on Martha's phone from "with her own wings" by Branwyn.

The Venusians are from the Missing Adventure "Venusian Lullaby" by Paul Leonard.