Fic: The Sky is Clearest After the Rain
Title: The Sky is Clearest After the Rain
Characters: Martha/Tom, Jack
Rating/Warnings: PG for adult themes and very mild naughtiness
Spoilers: All of DW S3, especially 3.11-3.13; very mild for TW 2.1 and 2.2
Disclaimer: DW and TW are property of the BBC and RTD.
Summary: Martha puts her life back together after her time with the Doctor.
Kind thanks to fmanalyst for the beta and smirnoffmule for the britpick.
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The first few days after Martha left the TARDIS were comparatively easy. After all of that, all she and her mother and sister wanted was good food, a good night's sleep, a hot bath (especially Martha), and to not be out of each other's sight for longer than it took to wash their faces. She went to her rotations at the hospital, emailed Jack like she'd promised to do, and studied in the back garden, but otherwise stayed close.
*****
Jack, I'm back in London now, staying with Mum and Tish. We've been holding together okay, but we all feel better if we're close to each other. Leo stops by often as well, as does my father. I'm back to my studies and my rotations at the hospital and saving up for some new clothes. I haven't worn anything new in a year and most of what I have I don't want anymore.
*****
Hi Martha, it's the same kind of insanity around here, only things are different and there's no way to make it go back to how it was. You know. You'll like this-had something happen here that ended in us getting sucked back in time through the Rift. I took the team to the spa so we didn't cross our own timelines (best excuse in the universe, huh?) and had every possible scrub and steam treatment on this planet. It's good to be clean.
Give my best to your family, and by the way, you have a present. A very merry unbirthday to you, Alice in Wonderland style. Go get yourself something pretty.
*****
Jack! Did you hack my bank account? Thank you for thinking of me, but really, that's too much. I could wear Paris originals from top to toe with that and have some left over besides.
*****
What could be more important than making sure a beautiful woman is well dressed for any occasion? The Paris fashion houses should be begging you to wear their clothes. Martha, if you need anything else, let me know. I mean it. You deserve every bit of that and more, and not just because of what you did.
Also, you wound me to the quick. I may have bribed somebody to find out what the account numbers were so I could make a legitimate transfer, but that's not the same as hacking.
*****
It didn't take much more convincing for either Martha or Tish to call in to work (stomach upset, nasty, probably from a dodgy curry) and head out to the shops. Martha had a date with Tom that night, their third, and Tish helped her try on what felt like hundreds of different outfits for it. They spent most of the time giggling and feeling like proper sisters again. How awful is it that it takes her being a slave and me being a hunted fugitive for us to start having fun with one another like this?
Tish found a very stylish deep blue suit and made her try it on. It did wonderful things for her figure and her complexion, but when Martha looked in the mirror and saw herself in a blue suit with her dirty old trainers lying by her feet, she shuddered and took it right off.
Neither of them bought anything black.
*****
A jangling string of bells tied to the door announced her arrival at the little café overlooking the Thames where she and Tom had agreed to meet.
“Bonsoir, Miss Jones.” Tom stood up from his seat when she walked in. “You look nice.”
Martha beamed and twirled around, making the little diamanté stones forming a swirling pattern on the legs of her jeans sparkle. “My sister and I did a bit of shopping today.”
“Oh, really?” He walked around behind her and pulled out her chair.
“Such a gentleman, and yes, really.” I bought an entirely new wardrobe today, from overcoats and shoes right down to knickers and socks. Then I made my brother go into my flat and take every single thing in there to the Oxfam shop. Anything that a psychotic alien may have touched, or looked at, or thought about. The only thing I kept looks like a key and is hidden in a Milo tin in my room.
They ordered their coffees and Martha bought a little sandwich since she hadn't eaten yet, and they talked until the café closed. When Tom kissed her goodnight, she remembered the glittering crystals on her jeans, and she thought of stars.
*****
Jack, just so you know I shifted to a new flat this weekend. It has two levels, a lovely garden out back, and is much closer to the hospital. Mum isn't happy that I've moved out, but this way when I come and go to the hospital at weird hours, I don't wake anybody up. It's also close to where my father works, so we get to see each other at lunch.
*****
Thanks. I'll update the Christmas card list.
I'm glad you emailed. It's been a rough day. Check the newspapers if you want to know.
*****
“Martha?”
The door to Martha's new flat creaked open as Tom walked in. Her father and Leo had helped her find this place. It was in a different part of town, looked different, had a different view, and was fully furnished. Even though her old flat was never bombed (or it was, but then it wasn't), she never could bring herself to set foot in the place since her return. There were some things that she just didn't want to think of every day of her life, and taking shelter under Jack's body while fire engulfed her home was one of them.
“Hi, you.” She walked across the tiny kitchen to greet him. “Bend down. I can't reach.”
“I'll do one better than that.” Tom engulfed her with his arms and picked her up. “Did you miss me?”
“What, I saw you four hours ago, what? Are you fishing for compliments here?”
He laughed, and his voice sent a tingle down her spine. He has such a wonderful laugh. She'd never heard it before their first date. Martha shoved those painful memories out of her head and tried to concentrate on this man in her flat, this man who will be a doctor and thinks she hung the moon and the stars with her smallest finger. “What's this you're wearing?”
“Do you like it?” Tom beamed at her, holding open the lapels of a black leather trenchcoat. “Like Neo, only I'm not as cool as Neo. It's fun to pretend I'm a superhero, though.”
“You're better than Neo. All he did was stand there and say 'whoa' while Trinity and Morpheus did all the hard work.” She meant it to be playful, but as she spoke, she felt the hair on her neck stand on end. I walked thousands of miles telling the story of the chosen one while Jack sacrificed his life to rid the world of a hole in time. Which one of us is Morpheus, and which one of us is Trinity?
“Hey, now, you just turned really pale. Are you okay?” Tom moved around behind her to lean against the wall, close enough that she could feel his coat brush her side as he passed.
Martha swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled wanly. “Just...something I remembered. Related to The Matrix, sort of. It's more of my family issues. Nothing to do with you.”
Silence filled the space between them. Eventually he said, “Whoever did...whatever it was...really did a bad day's work on you, didn't they?”
Martha nodded. “Yeah.” She'd told him she had family problems in the past year, big ones, which was true, although not all of the true needed to make it true. “I'm sorry.” She turned to face him, adding, “Look, I'm really glad you came by. And yes, I did miss you, even though it's only been four hours.”
“Can you answer me a question?” When Martha nodded, Tom said, “How long ago did this happen? With your family?”
Deep breath in, deep breath out. “I met you before the last of it was finished.” I met you six weeks in your past and eleven months into a future that never happened, back when I traveled with a superhero who I met when he passed me in the street and told me his tie was off.
“Not long ago, then.”
“No.” Martha grabbed her new wine-red velvet blazer and they stepped outside into the late afternoon sunlight. Try as she might, she couldn't keep her mind off Tom's new coat. It didn't make her think of Neo, not unless Neo changed his mind and wore a coat of brown oilcloth. She fingered the sleeve.
“You know, the way you keep playing with it, I'm beginning to think you like my coat better than me.”
Busted. Martha schooled her features into what she hoped was a sultry smile and looked at him through hooded eyes. “It's a good look on you,” she remarked, hoping it covered the fact that she hadn't been thinking of him at all.
*****
Jack, I need your help. I've been dating Tom-I told you about him, remember? I'm afraid I'm going to bungle things up with him, since I'm still trying to forget everything the rest of the world never knew, but I can't tell him that. You did the time travel thing more than I did. Any hints?
You haven't met him, but I think you'd like him, both then and now. He actually talked back to the Toclafane and survived to tell the tale, not long before he jumped in front of a bullet to save my life. He's not the same as he was then, obviously, but he's not different, if that makes any sense.
*****
Somebody else has won your affection? My heart is forever broken. I may never recover. Ianto will need to take me out to the pub to drown my sorrows in cheap whiskey and bad songs. Should be fun.
At the end of the day, it doesn't matter what you do, so long as when you're with him, you're entirely with him. Everything else will sort itself out.
Is he cute?
*****
You're a shameless liar, you know that? Your heart's much too big to break.
He's gorgeous, he's taken, and who's Ianto?
*****
Martha heard a knock on her door and looked out the window. Tom was standing on the step, ready to take her to dinner before she went onto night shift at the hospital. He was wearing his black leather coat for the first time since the day he bought it; he hadn't wanted to wear it during the three weeks of straight rain they'd had since. She threw a jersey over her scrubs and headed downstairs.
“Hi.” He leaned down for a kiss. “Oooh. Rubber ducks.”
Martha giggled as she tilted her head up. “Everybody loves them.”
“Paediatrics this week?” Paediatrics was his favourite rotation.
“Paediatric intensive care.”
“Ah.” His smile faded. “They need a bit more than rubber ducks to make them happy, don't they.” He kissed her again. “So, what are you in the mood for?”
Martha grabbed his hand and traced a finger across his palm. I'm in the mood for not seeing any more dying babies, ever. “There's that kebab shop oh, four streets over from the hospital. How about there?”
“I suppose we're neither one of us dressed for candlelight and roses.” Hand in hand, they walked down the street. “Kebab shop it is.”
Tom ordered chicken and Martha ordered lamb and both of them ordered theirs with garlic sauce. Garlic was something she'd missed during that long year. She'd missed meat, too, and fish, although she didn't eat meat as often as she ate garlic, and she couldn't eat meat on the bone anymore. Not after some things she saw.
“Martha? Hello....anybody there?”
She blinked. “Sorry. Did I fade away again?”
“Not so bad as you used to, but yeah.”
“See? I'm getting better.” She smiled, and for once it didn't feel forced, or like she was hiding something.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Do you really want to know?” When he nodded, she said, “Garlic. I was thinking about how much I like garlic.” I like garlic because it tastes good and I didn't have anything seasoned with more than the ocean water I'd dip it in for almost ten months, and that's only when I was near the ocean. I like garlic because it is strong enough to hide the taste of rancid meat. I like garlic because the tops are green, and fresh green vegetables are still a treat I'll never eat often enough.
Tom raised an eyebrow. “I'll remember that.”
When they finished their kebabs, Tom held the door for her. It was a bit chilly outside, so she moved as close to him as she could, wishing she'd brought something warmer than her jersey. As if he'd read her mind, Tom opened his jacket and pulled her in close to his side.
Be with the person you're with. “Tom?” She slid her hands down his sides and pressed her cheek against his chest. He glanced down at her, head tilted to the side as if he was about to say something, but instead he wrapped her up in his arms and his coat and laid his chin on top of her head, and they stood there together.
Martha devoutly wished she didn't have to be working in fifteen minutes.
“I know a French restaurant that makes chicken with forty cloves of garlic.” Tom swayed from foot to foot with her still in his arms. “Can I take you there when you come off the night shift?”
“I'd like that.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss.
As she walked up the hospital steps and he walked to the bus stop, she heard him call, “Hey, Martha?”
She turned around and raised an eyebrow.
“Save a life tonight.”
*****
Guess what? I got a job offer from UNIT today! They rang me out of the blue last week and asked for an interview. It wasn't really an interview so much as it was a massive thank you and an immediate offer for any kind of work I wanted. I think the only reason they waited was because we only found out whether we passed our examination boards this past Tuesday.
The general nearly cried when he saw me. I didn't know what to say.
*****
UNIT, huh? Congratulations! So much for trying to get you here, although I can understand you not wanting to move away from your family. If you end up making more money than I do, you're buying the next time we see one another.
Does this mean I 'm allowed to call you Doctor Jones now?
*****
“Martha? Are you ready to go?” Tom was in the living room. “Those flowers are gorgeous.” He was looking at the enormous vase overflowing with equally enormous red-and-white asiatic lilies sitting on her coffee table when she walked in. When he saw her, he wolf-whistled. “And so are you.”
Martha was wearing a just-above-knee length, form-fitting turquoise dress with no back at all. It was the most daring thing she had ever owned, and she thought that going out with her boyfriend to celebrate them both officially being doctors was a perfect excuse to wear it. “If you take me dancing tonight, I might let you help me take it off later.”
“Mmmmmm. I'll take you dancing whenever you want.” He stood behind her with one hand on her shoulder, held out her arm with his other hand, and kissed her just behind her ear. “Who gave you the flowers? Your mum?”
“No, a friend of mine in Cardiff. He sent them as congratulations for surviving the boards.” On impulse, she pulled a blossom out of the bouquet and threaded it into her chignon.
“He? Should I be jealous?” Tom's eyes crinkled at the corners as he traced the tattoo on her arm with his fingertip. “I don't know if I can compete with somebody who sends flowers like that.”
“He's older than my father, plus I think he has a boyfriend.” You smile more than anybody else I know. I love it.
“Oi, that's the most dangerous kind. I'll have to step my game up a notch.” Like he always did, he held the door open for her as they walked toward the waiting cab. “Wouldn't want him to steal you away.”
When the taxi dropped them off, Martha looked up at the full moon hanging over London and shivered.
“Are you cold?” Tom opened his coat and pulled her in, just like he'd done on the steps of the hospital.
“Not especially.” She leaned up against him. “Do you remember when the hospital went to the moon?”
“I do. That was, what, four months ago?” His eyes flew open in excitement. “Oh. Oh. Were you there?” When she nodded, he asked, “What happened? What was it like?”
“The mobile reception was awful, for a start.” Tom laughed out loud. She continued, “Believe it or not, there was an alien fugitive hiding there. These...great big things that looked like rhinoceroses wearing body armour and carrying huge guns stormed the hospital. The moon itself wasn't much to look at, though. Just grey stone and sand.”
Tom looked up at the sky. “You've been to the moon. That's brilliant.”
I've been to the end of the universe. I know William Shakespeare. I saved the world. “Did you read the newspapers the next day?” When he nodded, she added, “The medical student who made everybody keep quiet and got the patients out where there was oxygen? That was me. After the hospital came back to Earth, I wasn't in the mood to talk to the press. All I wanted was to run home and have a shower. My mum saved the clippings for me.”
“That was you?” His eyes opened wider, and he smiled so broadly his face nearly cracked in two. “I remember reading that and thinking, wow, I wonder who that was, I'd like to buy them a drink and ask them all about it, and I've been dating her for four months!” He laid a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek. “You're amazing, you know that?”
Martha tilted her head to the side and arched her eyebrows at him. “I like to think so.”
He made good on his promise to dance, and later, against the wall in a dark corner of the club, Martha kissed him under the tiny flecks of disco-ball light that dotted her bare back like a cloak of stars.
*****
Author's notes: This fic started out life as the following prompt: Jack/Ianto/naughty/Jack's coat. That didn't happen, and somewhere along the way it turned into Martha/Tom/only a passing acquaintance with naughty/Tom gets a cool coat. The final product was intended to be a standalone fic, but as my beta-reader pointed out, it works quite well as a prequel to Support Group for Intergalactic Superheroes.
When I was a child, I lived in Canada for two years and took French classes in school. When my family moved to Texas, I kept up with it. One year the teacher declared a food day where each of us in the class was tasked with making some kind of French dish. My contribution was Poulet avec quarante pouces d'ail. I personally think that a lot of French cooking is a thinly-veiled excuse to eat butter and garlic, and this dish is no exception. It's a lovely autumn or winter meal, and because the garlic cloves are roasted whole and in their skin, you get all the flavour and aroma without it being overpowering.
Tarragon Chicken with Forty Cloves of Garlic
2/3 cup melted butter
1 medium-sized roasting fowl, jointed, skinned, washed, and patted dry
4 ribs celery, cut into long strips
2 medium onions, chopped
6 sprigs parsley
1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon
½ cup dry white wine (or verjuice, if you don't take alcohol)
2 ½ teaspoons salt
10 coarsely ground black peppercorns
pinch nutmeg
40 cloves garlic, unpeeled
Put the butter in a shallow dish. Add the chicken pieces and turn to coat all sides evenly.
Cover the bottom of a 6-quart casserole or dutch oven with the celery and onions. Lay the parsley, tarragon, and chicken parts on top. Pour the wine over the chicken, sprinkle with the salt, pepper, and nutmeg, and tuck the garlic cloves around and between the chicken pieces. Cover tightly with aluminum foil and put the lid over it. (The idea is to create an airtight seal to keep all the juices in.) Bake in a hot oven (375 F/190 C) for 1 ½ hours without disturbing the cover. When it's done, the chicken should be falling-apart tender.
Serve the chicken, pan juices, and whole garlic cloves with thin slices of french bread. The garlic cloves are squeezed out of their skins onto the bread, spread like butter, and eaten with the chicken.
I haven't tried this, but I bet the leftovers would make either amazing chicken soup in the winter or amazing chicken salad in the summer.
Characters: Martha/Tom, Jack
Rating/Warnings: PG for adult themes and very mild naughtiness
Spoilers: All of DW S3, especially 3.11-3.13; very mild for TW 2.1 and 2.2
Disclaimer: DW and TW are property of the BBC and RTD.
Summary: Martha puts her life back together after her time with the Doctor.
Kind thanks to fmanalyst for the beta and smirnoffmule for the britpick.
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The first few days after Martha left the TARDIS were comparatively easy. After all of that, all she and her mother and sister wanted was good food, a good night's sleep, a hot bath (especially Martha), and to not be out of each other's sight for longer than it took to wash their faces. She went to her rotations at the hospital, emailed Jack like she'd promised to do, and studied in the back garden, but otherwise stayed close.
*****
Jack, I'm back in London now, staying with Mum and Tish. We've been holding together okay, but we all feel better if we're close to each other. Leo stops by often as well, as does my father. I'm back to my studies and my rotations at the hospital and saving up for some new clothes. I haven't worn anything new in a year and most of what I have I don't want anymore.
*****
Hi Martha, it's the same kind of insanity around here, only things are different and there's no way to make it go back to how it was. You know. You'll like this-had something happen here that ended in us getting sucked back in time through the Rift. I took the team to the spa so we didn't cross our own timelines (best excuse in the universe, huh?) and had every possible scrub and steam treatment on this planet. It's good to be clean.
Give my best to your family, and by the way, you have a present. A very merry unbirthday to you, Alice in Wonderland style. Go get yourself something pretty.
*****
Jack! Did you hack my bank account? Thank you for thinking of me, but really, that's too much. I could wear Paris originals from top to toe with that and have some left over besides.
*****
What could be more important than making sure a beautiful woman is well dressed for any occasion? The Paris fashion houses should be begging you to wear their clothes. Martha, if you need anything else, let me know. I mean it. You deserve every bit of that and more, and not just because of what you did.
Also, you wound me to the quick. I may have bribed somebody to find out what the account numbers were so I could make a legitimate transfer, but that's not the same as hacking.
*****
It didn't take much more convincing for either Martha or Tish to call in to work (stomach upset, nasty, probably from a dodgy curry) and head out to the shops. Martha had a date with Tom that night, their third, and Tish helped her try on what felt like hundreds of different outfits for it. They spent most of the time giggling and feeling like proper sisters again. How awful is it that it takes her being a slave and me being a hunted fugitive for us to start having fun with one another like this?
Tish found a very stylish deep blue suit and made her try it on. It did wonderful things for her figure and her complexion, but when Martha looked in the mirror and saw herself in a blue suit with her dirty old trainers lying by her feet, she shuddered and took it right off.
Neither of them bought anything black.
*****
A jangling string of bells tied to the door announced her arrival at the little café overlooking the Thames where she and Tom had agreed to meet.
“Bonsoir, Miss Jones.” Tom stood up from his seat when she walked in. “You look nice.”
Martha beamed and twirled around, making the little diamanté stones forming a swirling pattern on the legs of her jeans sparkle. “My sister and I did a bit of shopping today.”
“Oh, really?” He walked around behind her and pulled out her chair.
“Such a gentleman, and yes, really.” I bought an entirely new wardrobe today, from overcoats and shoes right down to knickers and socks. Then I made my brother go into my flat and take every single thing in there to the Oxfam shop. Anything that a psychotic alien may have touched, or looked at, or thought about. The only thing I kept looks like a key and is hidden in a Milo tin in my room.
They ordered their coffees and Martha bought a little sandwich since she hadn't eaten yet, and they talked until the café closed. When Tom kissed her goodnight, she remembered the glittering crystals on her jeans, and she thought of stars.
*****
Jack, just so you know I shifted to a new flat this weekend. It has two levels, a lovely garden out back, and is much closer to the hospital. Mum isn't happy that I've moved out, but this way when I come and go to the hospital at weird hours, I don't wake anybody up. It's also close to where my father works, so we get to see each other at lunch.
*****
Thanks. I'll update the Christmas card list.
I'm glad you emailed. It's been a rough day. Check the newspapers if you want to know.
*****
“Martha?”
The door to Martha's new flat creaked open as Tom walked in. Her father and Leo had helped her find this place. It was in a different part of town, looked different, had a different view, and was fully furnished. Even though her old flat was never bombed (or it was, but then it wasn't), she never could bring herself to set foot in the place since her return. There were some things that she just didn't want to think of every day of her life, and taking shelter under Jack's body while fire engulfed her home was one of them.
“Hi, you.” She walked across the tiny kitchen to greet him. “Bend down. I can't reach.”
“I'll do one better than that.” Tom engulfed her with his arms and picked her up. “Did you miss me?”
“What, I saw you four hours ago, what? Are you fishing for compliments here?”
He laughed, and his voice sent a tingle down her spine. He has such a wonderful laugh. She'd never heard it before their first date. Martha shoved those painful memories out of her head and tried to concentrate on this man in her flat, this man who will be a doctor and thinks she hung the moon and the stars with her smallest finger. “What's this you're wearing?”
“Do you like it?” Tom beamed at her, holding open the lapels of a black leather trenchcoat. “Like Neo, only I'm not as cool as Neo. It's fun to pretend I'm a superhero, though.”
“You're better than Neo. All he did was stand there and say 'whoa' while Trinity and Morpheus did all the hard work.” She meant it to be playful, but as she spoke, she felt the hair on her neck stand on end. I walked thousands of miles telling the story of the chosen one while Jack sacrificed his life to rid the world of a hole in time. Which one of us is Morpheus, and which one of us is Trinity?
“Hey, now, you just turned really pale. Are you okay?” Tom moved around behind her to lean against the wall, close enough that she could feel his coat brush her side as he passed.
Martha swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled wanly. “Just...something I remembered. Related to The Matrix, sort of. It's more of my family issues. Nothing to do with you.”
Silence filled the space between them. Eventually he said, “Whoever did...whatever it was...really did a bad day's work on you, didn't they?”
Martha nodded. “Yeah.” She'd told him she had family problems in the past year, big ones, which was true, although not all of the true needed to make it true. “I'm sorry.” She turned to face him, adding, “Look, I'm really glad you came by. And yes, I did miss you, even though it's only been four hours.”
“Can you answer me a question?” When Martha nodded, Tom said, “How long ago did this happen? With your family?”
Deep breath in, deep breath out. “I met you before the last of it was finished.” I met you six weeks in your past and eleven months into a future that never happened, back when I traveled with a superhero who I met when he passed me in the street and told me his tie was off.
“Not long ago, then.”
“No.” Martha grabbed her new wine-red velvet blazer and they stepped outside into the late afternoon sunlight. Try as she might, she couldn't keep her mind off Tom's new coat. It didn't make her think of Neo, not unless Neo changed his mind and wore a coat of brown oilcloth. She fingered the sleeve.
“You know, the way you keep playing with it, I'm beginning to think you like my coat better than me.”
Busted. Martha schooled her features into what she hoped was a sultry smile and looked at him through hooded eyes. “It's a good look on you,” she remarked, hoping it covered the fact that she hadn't been thinking of him at all.
*****
Jack, I need your help. I've been dating Tom-I told you about him, remember? I'm afraid I'm going to bungle things up with him, since I'm still trying to forget everything the rest of the world never knew, but I can't tell him that. You did the time travel thing more than I did. Any hints?
You haven't met him, but I think you'd like him, both then and now. He actually talked back to the Toclafane and survived to tell the tale, not long before he jumped in front of a bullet to save my life. He's not the same as he was then, obviously, but he's not different, if that makes any sense.
*****
Somebody else has won your affection? My heart is forever broken. I may never recover. Ianto will need to take me out to the pub to drown my sorrows in cheap whiskey and bad songs. Should be fun.
At the end of the day, it doesn't matter what you do, so long as when you're with him, you're entirely with him. Everything else will sort itself out.
Is he cute?
*****
You're a shameless liar, you know that? Your heart's much too big to break.
He's gorgeous, he's taken, and who's Ianto?
*****
Martha heard a knock on her door and looked out the window. Tom was standing on the step, ready to take her to dinner before she went onto night shift at the hospital. He was wearing his black leather coat for the first time since the day he bought it; he hadn't wanted to wear it during the three weeks of straight rain they'd had since. She threw a jersey over her scrubs and headed downstairs.
“Hi.” He leaned down for a kiss. “Oooh. Rubber ducks.”
Martha giggled as she tilted her head up. “Everybody loves them.”
“Paediatrics this week?” Paediatrics was his favourite rotation.
“Paediatric intensive care.”
“Ah.” His smile faded. “They need a bit more than rubber ducks to make them happy, don't they.” He kissed her again. “So, what are you in the mood for?”
Martha grabbed his hand and traced a finger across his palm. I'm in the mood for not seeing any more dying babies, ever. “There's that kebab shop oh, four streets over from the hospital. How about there?”
“I suppose we're neither one of us dressed for candlelight and roses.” Hand in hand, they walked down the street. “Kebab shop it is.”
Tom ordered chicken and Martha ordered lamb and both of them ordered theirs with garlic sauce. Garlic was something she'd missed during that long year. She'd missed meat, too, and fish, although she didn't eat meat as often as she ate garlic, and she couldn't eat meat on the bone anymore. Not after some things she saw.
“Martha? Hello....anybody there?”
She blinked. “Sorry. Did I fade away again?”
“Not so bad as you used to, but yeah.”
“See? I'm getting better.” She smiled, and for once it didn't feel forced, or like she was hiding something.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Do you really want to know?” When he nodded, she said, “Garlic. I was thinking about how much I like garlic.” I like garlic because it tastes good and I didn't have anything seasoned with more than the ocean water I'd dip it in for almost ten months, and that's only when I was near the ocean. I like garlic because it is strong enough to hide the taste of rancid meat. I like garlic because the tops are green, and fresh green vegetables are still a treat I'll never eat often enough.
Tom raised an eyebrow. “I'll remember that.”
When they finished their kebabs, Tom held the door for her. It was a bit chilly outside, so she moved as close to him as she could, wishing she'd brought something warmer than her jersey. As if he'd read her mind, Tom opened his jacket and pulled her in close to his side.
Be with the person you're with. “Tom?” She slid her hands down his sides and pressed her cheek against his chest. He glanced down at her, head tilted to the side as if he was about to say something, but instead he wrapped her up in his arms and his coat and laid his chin on top of her head, and they stood there together.
Martha devoutly wished she didn't have to be working in fifteen minutes.
“I know a French restaurant that makes chicken with forty cloves of garlic.” Tom swayed from foot to foot with her still in his arms. “Can I take you there when you come off the night shift?”
“I'd like that.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss.
As she walked up the hospital steps and he walked to the bus stop, she heard him call, “Hey, Martha?”
She turned around and raised an eyebrow.
“Save a life tonight.”
*****
Guess what? I got a job offer from UNIT today! They rang me out of the blue last week and asked for an interview. It wasn't really an interview so much as it was a massive thank you and an immediate offer for any kind of work I wanted. I think the only reason they waited was because we only found out whether we passed our examination boards this past Tuesday.
The general nearly cried when he saw me. I didn't know what to say.
*****
UNIT, huh? Congratulations! So much for trying to get you here, although I can understand you not wanting to move away from your family. If you end up making more money than I do, you're buying the next time we see one another.
Does this mean I 'm allowed to call you Doctor Jones now?
*****
“Martha? Are you ready to go?” Tom was in the living room. “Those flowers are gorgeous.” He was looking at the enormous vase overflowing with equally enormous red-and-white asiatic lilies sitting on her coffee table when she walked in. When he saw her, he wolf-whistled. “And so are you.”
Martha was wearing a just-above-knee length, form-fitting turquoise dress with no back at all. It was the most daring thing she had ever owned, and she thought that going out with her boyfriend to celebrate them both officially being doctors was a perfect excuse to wear it. “If you take me dancing tonight, I might let you help me take it off later.”
“Mmmmmm. I'll take you dancing whenever you want.” He stood behind her with one hand on her shoulder, held out her arm with his other hand, and kissed her just behind her ear. “Who gave you the flowers? Your mum?”
“No, a friend of mine in Cardiff. He sent them as congratulations for surviving the boards.” On impulse, she pulled a blossom out of the bouquet and threaded it into her chignon.
“He? Should I be jealous?” Tom's eyes crinkled at the corners as he traced the tattoo on her arm with his fingertip. “I don't know if I can compete with somebody who sends flowers like that.”
“He's older than my father, plus I think he has a boyfriend.” You smile more than anybody else I know. I love it.
“Oi, that's the most dangerous kind. I'll have to step my game up a notch.” Like he always did, he held the door open for her as they walked toward the waiting cab. “Wouldn't want him to steal you away.”
When the taxi dropped them off, Martha looked up at the full moon hanging over London and shivered.
“Are you cold?” Tom opened his coat and pulled her in, just like he'd done on the steps of the hospital.
“Not especially.” She leaned up against him. “Do you remember when the hospital went to the moon?”
“I do. That was, what, four months ago?” His eyes flew open in excitement. “Oh. Oh. Were you there?” When she nodded, he asked, “What happened? What was it like?”
“The mobile reception was awful, for a start.” Tom laughed out loud. She continued, “Believe it or not, there was an alien fugitive hiding there. These...great big things that looked like rhinoceroses wearing body armour and carrying huge guns stormed the hospital. The moon itself wasn't much to look at, though. Just grey stone and sand.”
Tom looked up at the sky. “You've been to the moon. That's brilliant.”
I've been to the end of the universe. I know William Shakespeare. I saved the world. “Did you read the newspapers the next day?” When he nodded, she added, “The medical student who made everybody keep quiet and got the patients out where there was oxygen? That was me. After the hospital came back to Earth, I wasn't in the mood to talk to the press. All I wanted was to run home and have a shower. My mum saved the clippings for me.”
“That was you?” His eyes opened wider, and he smiled so broadly his face nearly cracked in two. “I remember reading that and thinking, wow, I wonder who that was, I'd like to buy them a drink and ask them all about it, and I've been dating her for four months!” He laid a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek. “You're amazing, you know that?”
Martha tilted her head to the side and arched her eyebrows at him. “I like to think so.”
He made good on his promise to dance, and later, against the wall in a dark corner of the club, Martha kissed him under the tiny flecks of disco-ball light that dotted her bare back like a cloak of stars.
*****
Author's notes: This fic started out life as the following prompt: Jack/Ianto/naughty/Jack's coat. That didn't happen, and somewhere along the way it turned into Martha/Tom/only a passing acquaintance with naughty/Tom gets a cool coat. The final product was intended to be a standalone fic, but as my beta-reader pointed out, it works quite well as a prequel to Support Group for Intergalactic Superheroes.
When I was a child, I lived in Canada for two years and took French classes in school. When my family moved to Texas, I kept up with it. One year the teacher declared a food day where each of us in the class was tasked with making some kind of French dish. My contribution was Poulet avec quarante pouces d'ail. I personally think that a lot of French cooking is a thinly-veiled excuse to eat butter and garlic, and this dish is no exception. It's a lovely autumn or winter meal, and because the garlic cloves are roasted whole and in their skin, you get all the flavour and aroma without it being overpowering.
Tarragon Chicken with Forty Cloves of Garlic
2/3 cup melted butter
1 medium-sized roasting fowl, jointed, skinned, washed, and patted dry
4 ribs celery, cut into long strips
2 medium onions, chopped
6 sprigs parsley
1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon
½ cup dry white wine (or verjuice, if you don't take alcohol)
2 ½ teaspoons salt
10 coarsely ground black peppercorns
pinch nutmeg
40 cloves garlic, unpeeled
Put the butter in a shallow dish. Add the chicken pieces and turn to coat all sides evenly.
Cover the bottom of a 6-quart casserole or dutch oven with the celery and onions. Lay the parsley, tarragon, and chicken parts on top. Pour the wine over the chicken, sprinkle with the salt, pepper, and nutmeg, and tuck the garlic cloves around and between the chicken pieces. Cover tightly with aluminum foil and put the lid over it. (The idea is to create an airtight seal to keep all the juices in.) Bake in a hot oven (375 F/190 C) for 1 ½ hours without disturbing the cover. When it's done, the chicken should be falling-apart tender.
Serve the chicken, pan juices, and whole garlic cloves with thin slices of french bread. The garlic cloves are squeezed out of their skins onto the bread, spread like butter, and eaten with the chicken.
I haven't tried this, but I bet the leftovers would make either amazing chicken soup in the winter or amazing chicken salad in the summer.