and i've been dreaming of revenge to make you love me more
But I don't want to play God either. I can't do that. I don't want to pick and choose.
But you have before.
Martha Jones is seated at a cafe, pouring over notes that her wedding planner gave her. There are choices she has to make even she told the woman that it doesn't particularly matter to her as long as she marries her fiance, as long as the ( Read more... )
But you have before.
Martha Jones is seated at a cafe, pouring over notes that her wedding planner gave her. There are choices she has to make even she told the woman that it doesn't particularly matter to her as long as she marries her fiance, as long as the ( Read more... )
She nods at that. The Conrad is finally back to looking like it did before the plagues even the scorch marks are covered up with paint but people are still recovering. The tenseness in the basement has lightened. It's a step in the right direction.
"It seems nothing can really keep this city down," Martha murmurs, almost fondly. She turns to look her and then nods. "I am. Yeah. I just-" She sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. It's difficult to put this into words, and she would really rather not say it directly. Not most of it. "I think I have- Tranquilizing someone for their own good is... still forcibly tranquilizing someone. I'm afraid I'm misusing all the power that I have. In more than just the tranquilizing example. I suppose I'm trying to come to grips with what's acceptable and what isn't and how much of a right I have to use or not use... that power."
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She goes quiet as Martha starts speaking again, pressing her lips together tightly, and doesn't answer until Martha's done talking. "It's not..." Gwen takes a breath, lets it out, and stares at her hands on the table for a moment before going on. "The person you tranquilized. Were they in danger? Were they going to hurt themselves or someone else?"
She can't imagine Martha would have done it for any other reason, but it's... worth asking.
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"Her leg was injured, badly injured," she says softly. "She insisted that she wouldn't rest and wanted to help to earn her keep, and I knew if she didn't stay off of it then her leg would get worse and she'd further injure herself. It's not much of an excuse though honestly. You can't force care on anyone. If I'd done that in a hospital setting, I'm sure I would have been sued."
She's been out of that hospital setting for too long though, and she's been into the setting of do everything to take care of people, whatever it takes, whether they want it or not. It doesn't mean that it's acceptable though. It doesn't make picking and choosing who gets to survive death and who doesn't acceptable either.
"I can't say that I'd do it differently if I was presented with that situation again."
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But she knows the feeling, intimately. Faltering between the morality of a perfect world and cold, hard reality, pragmatism and idealism. It's easier when you're not the one in charge - the hard decisions go to someone else, and you can go on believing you're the kind of person who would never...
Gwen reaches across the table, unthinking, to take Martha's hand.
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"Whether or not I should trust your opinion, I do," she says, firmly. "I admire you so that does mean so much to me to hear. I suppose we can't judge ourselves or our decisions in the same way that the rest of the world might. Torchwood is a different world. The Rift... it's created a different world, too with different standards. We are shaped helplessly by the situation and events that affect us, aren't we?"
She feels a surge of strength when Gwen takes her hand. Martha grabs hold and squeezes, sending her a weak, grateful smile.
"Thank you."
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She pauses a moment, still watching Martha with a smile exhausted and faintly worried, but full of affection. "You're welcome. And I hope you've been spending most of your time thinking about things much more cheerful than this."
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She does feel better now. Martha's quite glad that Gwen ran into her here. They unfortunately don't get to see much of each other otherwise with Gwen busy with Torchwood and Martha busy with the hotel.
"Yes, I have been," Martha insists as her smile widens though she does take note of the exhaustion in Gwen's. She skims the page that she's on in this wedding planner folder. "There's... whether the table cloths should be detailed in red or a... slightly darker shade of red. After all..." Martha makes a face, turning her attention back to Gwen who she would much rather look at anyway. "There's Christmas after all. Do you remember Christmas last year? With the ball and the surprise gifts? It seems like ages ago."
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She leans over to study the folder in front of Martha, and adds absently, "I like the darker red, by the way."
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She supposes in the end that the plagues had the same result though for the entire city.
Nothing like disaster to bring people together.
She looks at the darker red and nods in agreement, smiling at Gwen. "I was leaning that way myself."
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