In which Martha deals with shit

Martha had been the mediator in her family for a long time, perpetually stuck between the quarrelling parties. She got involved only when one side asked for her help but never pledged allegiance to one in particular. When she realized this would become a permanent arrangement, one of the very first lessons she'd learned was that sometimes it was best for all if she played dumb when it came to knowledge of each side's actions. If confronted directly she wouldn't lie—concealing information for one side would be seen a showing preference towards them. If she wasn't, she never brought up unless it was necessary.

And she didn't feel it necessary for Rose to know of this latest development. So whenever she asked how John was doing, Martha would tell her the usual—happy, fine, still no sideburns but no tattoo either, and no dark circles under his eyes unless it was the morning after he'd been on call—but she never breathed a word about Violet Lewis.

For one, she wasn't sure how Rose would react. For another, she wasn't sure how to even break it to her. It was hardly like the loss of sideburns. This would break her heart. It might blow up in her face later but for now Martha was just going to keep this from her. At least Rose always text her before she went looking for John and would stay put if Martha told her he wasn't somewhere she could go. It was risky but it was the only thing she had. She just hoped Rose didn't go looking for him one day and see John and Violet together.

Martha considered intervening herself but she couldn't think of a way that didn't run a serious risk of ending poorly. She didn't want John to distance himself from her, or worse, have her moved to a new team. The whole point of her going undercover as a med-student was so that she could monitor, and if need be, guard him. That wouldn't work if he wouldn't let her within twenty feet of him.

There was nothing she could do unless the Family suddenly showed up and used Violet to get to him. Not that she wanted that. But Violet wasn't a threat, not the kind that Martha could deal with, anyway.

But what's going to happen in four weeks when we're ready to take off? She wondered one afternoon as she watched them talking at one of the tables in the break room. Violet was telling a story, gesturing lightly with her hands, and John was grinning down at her. And damn if Martha didn't recognize that expression. That was how the Doctor looked at Rose whenever she was saying something funny. Lately a lot of John's expressions had been mirroring the ones the Doctor used for things related to Rose.

John was falling hard and fast and she thought Violet might be as well. In less than month they would be opening the fob watch and the Doctor would replace John permanently. Poor Violet would be left alone and heartbroken. Unless Rose opted not to open the watch but Martha couldn't see her doing that. Rose might be a kind person but when it came to the Doctor, all bets were off. Plus they'd both be stranded here if the Doctor didn't come back and Martha wouldn't let that happen.

When Violet left to make her rounds, Martha approached John.

"Things seem to be going well."

John grinned. "They are."

"So are you official, then?"

He gave her a funny look. "Is this high school?"

"Well…" She sat down in the chair Violet had vacated and gestured with her hand across the room. "Take a look. You've got your jocks—" she gestured to two doctors who were discussing the upcoming baseball season "—your nerds and band geeks—" she pointed towards Dr. Jordan who was considered by all to be the smartest man in the hospital, sitting at the table reading a book, and then to the student at the table with him who was listening to an mp3 player and drumming his hands on the table "—bookies, techno geeks, drama geeks, and your typical blondes." She gestured to a few more groups of people around the room and then turned back to him with a triumphant smirk.

"So yes."

John chortled. "Just for that. Yes, I suppose we are."

She propped her chin on her fist and tried not to seem overly curious. "What number you on?"

"Of?"

"Dates."

"Third. We're going to be visiting a place on 9th called The Bad Wolf. She says her sister works there."

Martha went completely still, eyes widening the tiniest bit, but she blinked quickly to cover it. Those three words followed Rose and the Doctor throughout time and space as both a sign and warning. It wasn't the first time she'd spotted them while traveling with them. Violet's sister working there could just be a coincidence but Martha wasn't too sure. And equally worrisome was how steady the two of them were getting. It'd been a week since she'd first heard him ask her out and with their schedules, two dates was a lot. Probably one every night they both had off.

"Have you gotten her anything yet?"

He frowned worriedly. "Should I have?"

"Eh." She waved a hand dismissively. She wasn't going to interfere but that didn't mean she had to help.

"What do you think she'd like?"

Bollocks, she thought grumpily. She arched an eyebrow. "Why're you asking me?"

"Because you're a woman."

"Are you saying all women like the same things?"

"Er, no?"

"Hmmm." She considered him with narrowed eyes for a moment. "Either way, I don't think I can help. I don't know her well enough to make that kind of call. You could try flowers—not violets, though, a lot of women with flower names don't like it. Some bloke tried give Rose a rose one time. She wasn't amused."

John blinked in surprise. "Rose?"

Oh no. Not good. Rose had made it quite clear that she wasn't to mention her at all around John. "Um."

"You have a friend named Rose?"

"Yeah…"

He seemed to consider something for a minute. "What does she look like?" he asked.

"She's, um. She's really tall, green eyes, red hair. Lots of freckles. Irish," she added with a wry smile.

John actually looked disappointed for a moment before his expression brightened. "Well, I guess it is pretty cliché."

"But, um, there's a flower shop two blocks from here. You could see if they have any variety bouquets."

"That's a great idea. Thank you," he said empathetically. "I'm not very good with this kind of stuff."

"Don't I know it," she grumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing. I gotta get back to work. See you later, Mr. Smith."

It was only after she left that she realized she'd ended up helping after all.

The next day Violet found him in the early morning while he was talking with Martha's group before they went to do their morning rounds. Her eyes shown with delight as she greeted him and John's answering smile made the sun look dim. He excused himself momentarily to talk with her outside and Martha watched them go with a heavy heart. Her peers whispered excitedly amongst themselves about the new couple and she focused on keeping her breakfast in her stomach.

Rose got off work before her that afternoon and they didn't have anything planned, so instead of going straight back to the flat after her shift, Martha decided to make a stop at the TARDIS. The Doctor had left behind instructions in the form of a video, no doubt recorded while they'd been in the infirmary. Rose was the only one who'd seen it all the way through more than once (she probably had the bloody thing memorized) and Martha couldn't remember if he'd included what to do in a situation like this. And since she couldn't ask Rose without giving it all away, the only thing to do was re-watch the video herself.

She took the bus to the street where the TARDIS was parked, only about a mile from the hospital, and walked the rest of the way. She pulled her key from her bag (dangling jewelry wasn't permitted while she was working) as she approached the familiar blue box nestled in the alley behind the only Italian restaurant in town.

"There's my favorite Martian!"

Martha jumped in surprise. She relaxed when recognized the familiar twang of Marc, the sole resident of the alley, at least before the TARDIS dropped in on him. He peered out from behind the blue box. He was African American, somewhere in his thirties, with hair shorn close to his scalp, and a goatee surrounding a jovial smile. Today he was wearing the thick brown jacket they'd procured from the wardrobe for him, a pair of old jeans, and his usual black sneakers.

They didn't know about him until their fourth time exiting the TARDIS. Apparently he'd seen the whole thing. The TARDIS materializing over the spot where he usually slept, the emergence of the strange man in the brown suit who hadn't seemed to notice anything around him, followed by the two of them a few minutes later. He'd hidden from them that day and during their subsequent visits. The fourth time, however, he'd confronted them.

By that point he'd come to the conclusion the TARDIS was an alien ship or something in disguise and that they were visitors from another world. After seeing the state of John Smith when he came out of the ship, he was convinced he needed to protect his planet, but no one was gonna believe him about aliens unless he had proof. So he'd waited until they were away from the TARDIS and cornered them with a knife. In her terror, Rose's eyes had turned gold. He'd taken that as a sign he was right and started going on about disguised space ships and signals sent into space in the 1960s.

Rose, however, had had enough of the knife pointed at her. Martha had seen Rose's eyes glow before but never had she ever seen her provoked while in that state. The only warning she provided was "Get away!" with a strange echo underneath her voice. When Marc failed to do so, she'd brought her hand up so fast Martha barely saw her move, grabbing his wrist, and squeezed. The man hadn't been able to pull away and was forced to let go of the knife. She'd kicked the knife towards Martha then swung him around, slammed the poor bastard against the wall, and pinned him there with an arm against his throat. He'd been close enough that he had no choice but to look her in the eye. Whatever he saw was enough to make him beg for his life.

Rose backed away and Martha held the knife up defensively. They couldn't call the police since they didn't have proper identities established yet and they didn't want anyone touching the TARDIS. The man wasn't stupid enough to try and run. The only thing left was to talk. He repeated everything he'd said before but they were able to focus on more than being trapped at knifepoint. Now more understanding of his motives, Rose calmed down and actually seemed surprised at what she'd done before.

It took a bit of work, but they managed to convince the man that they weren't evil invaders planning on destroying Earth, but were actually frequently responsible for protecting it. Although no amount of talking could convince him they weren't aliens, especially after what Rose had done. He did, however, believe that the man he'd seen before was their human companion who was suffering from "mental trauma caused by exposure to an alien toxin" and that they'd decided to wait out the effects in a safe and familiar environment.

They told him there was no way they could move the ship to another alley, so he'd agreed to keep an eye on her while they were away. Not that anyone ever came down here except him and restaurant employees at this time of year. Bridgeton didn't have any real gangs to speak of and most of the homeless people opted to spend their nights in the shelters. Not Marc.

"I've told you I'm not a Martian. What are you doing back there, anyway?" she asked.

"Reading," he replied promptly. "But I heard you coming." He emerged from behind the TARDIS fully and leaned against the side of it. "I been sleepin' back there. This beauty blocks a lot of the wind and she's warm."

"She likes you."

They'd explained to Marc weeks ago that she was sentient. He'd taken it pretty well, all things considering. He confessed to Martha that it felt like having a guard dog with him at all times. "Did she tell you that?"

"I can't really talk to her, not like Rose can. But she shouldn't feel warm right now since she's sleeping. She's doing it for you."

Marc smiled. "Aight then. Don't let me hold ya up. Just don't be doin' no anal probing or whatever."

Her eyes flipped wide and the key nearly slipped from her fingers. Marc laughed. "I'm just funnin' with ya!"

She laughed halfheartedly. He winked backed towards the rear of the ship, knowing full well she wouldn't open it with him watching.

She slid the key into the lock, pushing the door open just wide enough to fit through, then slipped inside. The TARDIS didn't hum in welcome, too dormant to do more than raise her lights but it was enough to remind Martha that she wasn't alone.

"Hello," she greeted softly.

The TARDIS did not respond. Sighing heavily, Martha made her way up to the console, brushing her fingers along the edge as she circled around to the controls to start up the required systems. The console hummed to life as she headed around to the monitor. She pressed the buttons to bring up the video and the monitor flickered to life.

The Doctor appeared on screen, sitting down in front of the camera. "Is this working?" He tapped the camera. "Rose, Martha, before I change here's a list of instructions for when I'm human. One: don't let me hurt anyone. We can't have that but you know what humans are like."

"And so do you now," she murmured.

"Two: don't worry about the TARDIS. I'll put it on emergency power so they can't detect it. Make sure you don't turn on any of the other systems or it might attract attention. Four—no, wait a minute—three: no getting involved in big historical events. Four: you. Don't let me abandon either of you. Stay together even if I, Rassilon forbid, try to split you apart."

Something seemed to occur to him and his expression hardened. "And five—very important, five: don't let me eat pears! I hate pairs. John Smith is a character I made up but I won't know that. I'll think I am him and he might do something stupid like eat a pear. In three months I don't want to wake up from being human and taste that."

Martha rolled her eyes. Like she would've been able to stop him after he'd already accepted the pear from his student or put it on his plate. He hadn't seemed to mind the taste, though—in fact the repeated consumption seemed to indicate that he enjoyed them—which made her wonder why the Doctor disliked them enough that they earned a special mention in the official rules and guidelines.

He continued to talk for five minutes, discussing everything from what to do to establish identities if they landed in certain eras to what things they must never let John do. Getting a tattoo was on that list. Thankfully, shaving facial hair was not. Good thing, too, because she'd pretty much botched up the pear thing. Maybe she'd get lucky and he wouldn't remember. The video finished with him telling them to open the watch if things went wrong or they were discovered and not a moment before or else he would come back and the Family could find them.

He smiled at the camera for a moment and she knew from the raw emotion in his eyes that it was not meant for her. But she still could take comfort from it.

When the video had faded away back to the desktop display, she walked over to the pilot's seat and sank onto it. Propping her elbows on her legs, she hid her face in her hands. He hadn't even gone near the subject of what to do if his human counterpart fell in love with a native. Maybe he thought he would love Rose. Maybe he couldn't imagine falling in love with another. Martha didn't know.

She was on her own.

She wasn't feeling up to going back to the flat just yet. She couldn't face Rose again knowing John Smith and Violet Lewis would be dining and drinking at The Bad Wolf that evening without some sort of plan. So she slid off the seat and headed out of the console room down the single hallway out of hundreds that remained accessible. Each of the ten doors contained a room that had been deemed useful or necessary by the ship and always they always found the same room behind the same door. Her room was always behind the third door on the left. Martha actually missed the inconsistency.

The other rooms included the kitchen, library, Rose's bedroom, the Doctor's bedroom, the wardrobe, a cupboard, a storeroom of various devices, something called the Zero Room, and, strangely, a karaoke bar. They saw the potential uses for all of them except that last one. Why the TARDIS thought a karaoke bar was necessary was absolutely beyond either of them. Unless she thought they might get bored and decide the only way to entertain themselves was singing the Ancient North Martian equivalent of Happy Birthday.

She went into the second door on the left: the kitchen. The room flickered to life—booted up, almost—when she entered. She pulled out a skillet and set it on the stove to heat up, and pulled a package of rice and an onion from the cabinets, some broccoli and soy sauce from the fridge, and chicken from the freezer. As she prepared the stir-fry she thought about John and Violet. Then just about John, who was so much like the Doctor and yet so different.

Then she thought about Violet.

Facts, that's what she needed. Martha was logic and reason. Facts could be sorted and analyzed and with the right mind, turned into salvation or damnation. What did she know about Dr. Lewis?

Physically, she was only a little taller than Martha. Blonde—natural, if her eyebrows were to believed. Green eyes. Not very muscled. Built for running but didn't appear to have the experience.

Mentally, she was obviously sharp. She'd made it through med school, after all. Beyond that Martha didn't know much.

Emotionally, she was…kind. There wasn't another word for it. She was well and truly kind. If Martha were less experienced, she'd say there wasn't a malicious bone in that woman's body, but she'd seen too much of the universe to believe that about anyone over the age of two. But that malicious bone was hidden deep inside, underneath layers of compassion and understanding and acceptance.

"Oh my God," she breathed and very nearly dropped the wooden spoon.

God, she'd been blind. It should've been obvious back at physical. Medium height, blonde, built for running. Dark green eyes that could probably be mistaken for brown in dim lighting. Add in her personality, overlook the different backgrounds, and the resemblance is so obvious that even a blind man would see. Even their names were similar.

Violet Lewis.

Rose Tyler.

One loved the Doctor with all her heart. The other was on the way there with his counterpart. Put them in a room together and they'd either be the best of friends or hate each other.

God, we were stupid.

Rose, so adamant about refusing John that she failed so see how much of the Doctor was in him; that even a fragment of someone who adored her as much as the Doctor did would long for her. Without the real thing to fill the void, the fragment had subconsciously sought out the next best thing and it had found Dr. Lewis. Hell, the name Lewis was a joke between the Doctor and Rose.

And Martha, so concerned about making things easier for her friend that she failed to spot the flaws in their plan until it was too late. Now that things made much more sense they were actually so much worse.

She carried a paper plate loaded with stir-fry in one hand and a cup of her best tea in the other. It took a bit of wiggling but she managed to get her bag over her arm again and nudge the door open with her hip. She kicked it shut with her foot then called for Marc. He emerged from behind the TARDIS a few seconds later and his eyes immediately zeroed in on the plate of food. They'd brought him out food before—cans of things, boxes of crackers and crisps, some fruit, but never a hot meal like this.

"I hope you like stir-fry," she said with a smile.

His jaw dropped and he pointed to himself hesitantly.

"Yes, you. Or is there another bum hiding back there I'm not aware about?"

He zipped up to her and snatched the plate with a quick, "Thank you!" before he picked up the fork and tucked in. He sat down in front of the TARDIS, leaning against the door as he ate, and she held out the cup to him. He accepted it as well, glancing briefly at the contents before taking a sip.

"And it's all Earth food, in case you're wondering. Except for the tea. That's from 16th century Manati."

"That where you're from?" he asked with his mouth full.

She shook her head. Marc glanced up at her, eyes searching, and swallowed. "What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"You look sad, E.T. You didn't earlier. Worried. But not sad. What changed?"

Martha sighed and sank to the ground next to him. Pulling her knees to her chest, she told him an abbreviated version of what was happening.

"Is that really so bad?" he asked. "If he's gonna be happy with her. Or do you not want him to leave? …Can he not leave?"

"No, he can, it's just… Rose loves him. She loves him with all her heart and she can't bear to see him like this so she's stayed away. She hasn't even let him see her because he isn't the man she fell in love with and she doesn't want to risk falling for this new man only to lose him when the old one reemerges."

"And he will reemerge."

"Probably. There's an…antidote that we can administer at the end of the third month. If we don't then he'll stay as he is. But I can't see that happening."

"And when the old him comes back will he—?"

"Oh yes. They love each other so much that sometimes it's hard to look at them because you can't help be envious. You see the way he looks at her and you want someone to look at you the same way but you can't help but wonder if it'll ever measure up. And John as he is now is different but he's so much like he was before. He's falling for Violet the same way he fell for Rose and in the end someone's going to have to make the decision and at least one heart is going to be broken. Possibly beyond repair."

Marc didn't seem to know what to say.

"And the worst part is that we could've prevented this. He's someone else but there's so much of his old self there that sometimes I forget who I'm talking to. I fully believe that if he met her now, even if he didn't remember, that he'd fall in love with her. He must've been missing her this whole time without even realizing it and he found someone similar to her to fill the hole she should've."

"He's a shadow of himself so he done found a shadow of her to love. Kinda poetic."

"Poetic. Yeah. That's one word for it."

"Lots of poems are sad." He took another bite of the stir-fry and chewed slowly. "You got yourself in a hot mess, Mar."

Martha smiled at the nickname they'd come up with a few weeks back. It was so silly but she kind of liked it. "Don't I know it, Mar."

If a year ago someone told her that she'd be sitting in an alley the past, pouring out her troubles to a homeless man who thought she was an alien, she'd have laughed in their face and had them sectioned. Yet here she was. Before her travels she wouldn't have considered someone like Marc able to help her. He was homeless, after all. He must've done something wrong. Brought it on himself somehow. But after witnessing the genius and ingenuity of the people from Hooverville, hearing their stories, and learning that sometimes things like this were just beyond your control, she understood how wrong she'd been. It wasn't her fault. It was just how she'd been raised. It took being with the Doctor to open her eyes and her mind.

And here she was with Marc, a homeless man, and the only one who would or even could listen.

"Could she leave him?" he asked. "Rose, I mean."

Martha shook her head. "Her father's dead and her mother and her closest friend are somewhere we can't ever go. All her other friends and family, like mine, are distant. It'd take years for us to reach them. I don't know how it is for Violet, but Rose gave up everything to be with him. If she lost him…"

"Speakin' of which, how's she taking this?" He asked, pushing bits together on his plate with his fork.

"I haven't told her yet," she mumbled. "I'm not sure how to."

"You're gonna hafta," he said around the food in his mouth.

"I know. I'd just like to put it off for as long as possible. Until I have a plan."

"How's that coming?"

She buried her face in her knees and shook her head. He sighed loudly and a second later she felt him pat her shoulder. "There ain't no way for this to end well. I'm sorry I can't help."

"I didn't expect you to. I just…"

"Needed someone to talk to?"

She nodded.

"Whenever you need, Spock."

Martha smiled. "I'm not Vulcan, you know."

"Spock is half-Vulcan."

Her smile broadened into a full-blown grin. "Are you a Trekkie?"

Marc took another bite of stir-fry and chewed deliberately slow. He swallowed and scooped up another bite on his fork. "Maybe," he answered before tossing it into his mouth.

She glanced at her watch and decided it was past time she left. If she took much longer, Rose would worry. She stood up. "I should go. I'm late enough as it is. Thank you, Marc."

"Any time. And thanks for dinner." He gave her a warm smile and waved her on her way.

Ten minutes later, Martha opened the door to their flat and immediately headed for her bedroom. She set her purse down on the bed and took off her jacket before going to look for Rose. She wasn't in the kitchen or the living room and there was no note tacked to the door. So she tried Rose's room next where she found her curled up in a little ball on her bed.

"Rose?"

Rose didn't move.

"Rose?!"

Rose slowly raised her head. Her eyes red and puffy; her cheeks were red and streaked with tears. A shudder rippled through her body as she met Martha's gaze and saw horror instead of confusion.

She knew.

Martha hesitantly crossed the room to the bed, expecting Rose to stop her, but she didn't. She sat down on the bed and reached out to place her hand on Rose's back. "You knew." Rose croaked. "How long have you known?"

Martha closed her eyes. "Eight days."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I was going to, I just… I didn't know how. …How did you find out?"

Rose let her legs fall apart and she sat with her feet pressed together, hands lying limply in her lap. "I wanted to see him and I knew it was his lunch break so I went up to the staff room and… and he was sittin' there. Smilin'. An' I knew that look. Know it better than anythin' 'cos how many times have I seen it? First time I did was the Christmas, day he regenerated. He came back to the flat for dinner, all dressed in his brown suit and coat for the first time, and we looked at each other for a second, and then he was just grinnin' at me like there wasn't nothin' wrong ever.

"No one ever got that smile except for me. But he wasn't lookin' at that woman with my smile an' she—she… he's… Oh, God, he's in love with her, I could tell."

Martha was silent. Rose took a deep shuddering breath and scrubbed her face with her hands.

"Who is she?" she finally demanded.

"Her name's Violet Lewis."

"Lewis," she whispered. "But that's… I'm Lewis." She fisted her hands in her hair and rocked forward.

"I know. She's a lot like you, in fact. I think she's supposed to be you."

Rose frowned at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"John's part of the Doctor, yeah? The Doctor loves you more than anything. Don't you think someone who came from him like that would as well? But you weren't there. So he—"

"He found someone that reminded him of me even though he doesn't know me."

"Yeah."

"This is so messed up. This wasn't supposed to happen." She took a deep shuddering breath. "Hand me my bag?"

She wanted to hold the watch. It soothed her like nothing else these days.

Martha nodded and leaned down, plucking her purse from the floor and hanging it to her. Rose reached inside and rummaged around. She frowned and searched some more. She looked absolutely panicked by the time she tipped it upside down and shook the contents out. She shifted everything aside, searching frantically, lifted up her purse and checked every nook and cranny before springing from the bed. She ran over to her closet to check her jacket pockets while Martha checked the pile of stuff again.

"It's gone!" Rose cried. "Oh, my God, Martha! It's gone! I've lost the watch!"

"How could you lose it?" she demanded.

"I…I dropped my purse earlier." she whispered. "Outside the staff room. I was so upset that I had to get out of there. I didn't realize I'd dropped it until I went back to my desk and Aiden said someone had turned it in. They must've taken it."

She lunged for her phone, flipping it open, and punched in someone's number. She brushed her hair away from her ear and worried her bottom lip with her teeth as it rang. "Aiden!" she shouted. "Who turned in my purse today? …No, no, shut up and listen because this is important. You know that pocket watch I have? It's missing. I had it in my bag earlier and now it's gone. …A kid? Well, what did he look like?!"

Martha put her face in her hands. Oh, God, this week was just one nightmare after another. The Last of the Time Lords and they'd gone and lost him to some little kid.

"Oh that's just bloody fantastic, ain't it? …I know, I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry. Thanks for your help. I'll see you at work. …Y-yes, Aiden, that is one way to say goodbye." Rose smiled the tiniest bit, said goodbye, and hung up. She sighed heavily and bowed her head.

A moment later it snapped up and she stood. "I'm heading to the TARDIS. She might have some way for me to track the watch."

Martha bolted after her. "Wait for me!"

NOT SORRY!

*ducks*