BEYOND THE RIFT: The In Between
Title: The In Between
Characters/Pairing: The Doctor/Martha/Des
Word Count: 1775
Rating: PG
Summary: Little miscalculations kind of make a difference.
Notes: I finally finished this. I want to kill it with fire, but I finished it. Sequel to Those Who Have Crossed, and now I can have wacky TARDIS adventures with the OT3 whenever I want.
Disclaimer: Martha and the Doctor belong to the BBC, Des belongs to kawaiispinel, and beyondtherift apparently belongs to no one but itself and will eat your brain.
"Alright, let's just... talk this out." The Doctor had to raise his voice to be heard over the wind and rain, which was not the greatest sign pointing toward being able to talk anything out, but in reality, all he needed was to talk to himself. It would be nice if he could pretend someone else was listening, though. "It's not-"
"I'm wet," Des said, glaring at the Doctor from underneath the decidedly wet hair plastered to his forehead. Though they'd managed to find a mostly sheltered alcove underneath a boulder, it wasn't quite big enough for the three of them, and water kept leaking in. Mostly on Des. The Doctor paused, and blinked at him.
"You're what?" It wasn't so much the comment that surprised him as... well, yes. Yes, it was. Even Des didn't usually feel the need to point out things quite that obvious. Might as well announce that space was big or Chicago a bad idea for a vacation.
"We're all wet," Martha said, sounding more tired than anything else. "So I swear, if you complain, I'm going to find a rock and knock you both out with it."
"For which I would need immediate medical attention and then you'd have a head wound," Des pointed out, giving Martha a flicker of a teasing smile before he reverted to his previous more than slightly damp sulk. "I meant, I'm wet, and I'm finding it just a little difficult to think so we can talk things out."
"You've had worse!" the Doctor pointed out.
"Not since the advent of electricity!"
The Doctor paused, eying Des for a minute with a deep frown as he tried to think of ways to point out that "I'm wet" was far from an acceptable reason to stop thinking, and gave up after a minute, moving back to his original line of thought. "It's not as if anything could have taken the TARDIS. There's nothing on this planet that could take it... and anyway, the door was locked."
"How do you know she didn't just get bored and wander off without you?"
The Doctor weighed the annoyance of Des asking stupid questions against the annoyance of Des pouting at him, and decided to let him keep talking for the moment. "Not this TARDIS. She... doesn't move under her own power. Got to be someone at the controls, and like I said... No one who could even get inside the TARDIS, never mind fly her."
"So."
"So?"
"Where does that leave us?"
"Ah..." The Doctor grimaced and glanced to the water sheeting down outside, the downward slope of the mountain he could see from their current position. "That's actually a very good question."
*
The rain let up eventually. The Doctor found an almost round pebble and occupied himself by tossing it in the air and catching it while he tried to think. Des fell asleep leaning against Martha.
"This doesn't make sense," he muttered - not loud enough to wake Des, but enough to be perfectly audible to Martha. "I don't mean I don't understand how it happened, I mean it literally... does not make sense."
"You mean the TARDIS being gone."
"Of course I mean the TARDIS being gone." He missed a catch, dropped the pebble, glared at it like that was its fault, and sighed. "It was here. I swear it was here! And there's no one else on the whole planet who could have taken, it, trust me, so I don't-"
"You don't have to shout," Martha said quietly. The Doctor stopped, mouth open, and realized he had been... well, not shouting, but getting there. He sighed and ran his fingers through still damp hair.
"That machine was... well, I don't want to say perfect, because that's just asking for trouble, but it was working. We're exactly where we're supposed to be, more or less when we're supposed to be..."
Just without the TARDIS. He scooped up the pebble again and tossed it toward the opening of their little shelter. It tumbled out and down the slope, and the Doctor stared after it long after it had fallen out of his sight.
"I'm sorry, Martha. I'm... really sorry. And now you're stuck here." He kept his eyes off her, focusing instead on the dim gray light outside, a cloudy morning on an empty planet. Well done, escaping Chicago for an even worse exile.
"We're all stuck here," Martha pointed out, "so don't act like it's just me. Besides, I've been stuck before, and there are worse places to be. I have the two of you, anyway."
The Doctor smiled, very faintly, and glanced over to her without turning his head. He felt he must have had this conversation some time before - with her, or someone else, it didn't really matter, because the lines were all the same. Same old scene, except this time he couldn't see much of a way out unless they planned to just wait for a few thousand years...
"This isn't Chicago," he said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against rough stone. Martha reached over, across Des, to brush her fingers over the back of his hand, and he turned his hand over slowly to rest against hers, palm to palm. "It's not even 1963, we're just... kind of..."
There was a sound. Not wind or rain, but a familiar sound, rising through the damp early morning air. The Doctor lifted his head, eyes snapping open, and Martha jumped, jolting Des awake. He blinked sleepily at first Martha and then the Doctor, muttering, "Wha...?" He trailed off, frowned a little, and then asked, "Is that the TARDIS?"
The three of them tumbled out of their shallow alcove as one, scrambling in the mud and almost sliding down the slope. Des careened into the Doctor, and he just barely caught himself on a rock to keep from toppling over completely. He was reminded, abruptly, that he'd twisted his ankle earlier, and that it rather hurt, but he had more important things to worry about at the moment.
"Where's it coming from?" Martha asked, after glancing over and eying the Doctor to be sure he wasn't going to fall over.
"I think-"
"Shhhh!" The Doctor held up a hand to quiet them, one finger raised, and listened intently for a second before charging off. "This way!"
Even on muddy, uneven ground and with a twisted ankle, running was something the Doctor was very, very good at, and before long he skidded to a stop in sight of a blue box, Martha and Des so close to him that they nearly ran into him, Martha catching herself on his shoulder. The Doctor broke into a grin. "There you are, you beautiful, beautiful - oh."
The door of the TARDIS started to swing open, and the Doctor ducked behind the nearest boulder, dragging Des and Martha with him. He waited for a moment, still grinning at the two of them from behind the cover of the boulder, until he heard the door swing shut, the sound of shoes in mud. A peek over the top of the rock confirmed it - there he was, walking away from the TARDIS with his hands in his pockets, wearing the same suit and trainers he'd fallen through the Rift in, though with a notable lack of goo.
It was odd, looking at himself. He was almost certain his hair didn't normally do that.
"The problem," he said, sliding back down and careful to keep his voice low, "the problem is that I'm thick. Brain as clever as mine and I'm still-" He stopped and turned to Des. "What was that?"
Des raised his eyebrows innocently like he hadn't just muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "About time you admitted it", and that innocent expression was completely undermined by the grin on his face. "What?"
"You..." The Doctor waved a finger in his face, trying to find an appropriate response, and finally rolled his eyes and looked away, peeking back up over the boulder again. "You be quiet. I wasn't that far off. Twenty-four hours, give or take..."
The other Doctor was already moving out of sight, and the Doctor clambered over and around the rock, down to the TARDIS, vaguely disconcerted when he didn't hear the usual psychic :: :D :: in his mind. But he remembered he wouldn't come back to the TARDIS before falling through the Rift, and that meant that-
"It does make a difference," Martha muttered, just behind him, and he glanced back to her when he stopped in front of the TARDIS, digging through his pockets for his TARDIS key. He knew he had to have it... somewhere around here still.
"What?"
"Twenty-four hours."
"Oh, come on. Barely a difference. Just a little rain, one night out in the open..."
"Pneumonia..." Des chimed in, though he didn't seem to be coughing or anything. The Doctor shot him a scornful look and finally pulled out his key to unlock the door, and it swung open like it had been waiting for him, when really he'd only just left...
The warm gold and gray wasn't exactly the same as he remembered it, as he started up the ramp. It was almost too quiet, more than emptiness, less than presence. "Hello," he murmured, though he didn't expect a response, and tossed his coat on the railing, right where it belonged. He heard the door shut behind him, Des and Martha's feet on the walkway behind him, and he bounded up to the console itself, running his hands over the controls without actually flipping any switches or hitting any buttons. The controls were different to the ones on the other TARDIS, but he remembered them well enough.
"So!" he said without glancing back to the other two, already configuring the navigation, his hearts lifting a little at the rising sound of systems coming to life. It seemed like lifetimes since he'd heard it, and like just the sound of it brushed away all that time like it had never happened. He smiled a little more, spinning to face Des and Martha. "Where to?"
Des wandered around the console, eying the whole thing like he was waiting for it to psychically pounce him, and then flopped onto the jump seat, placing his feet on the console and making himself comfortable like it was where he belonged. Martha settled down beside him, easy as coming home. "Anywhere but Chicago."
Characters/Pairing: The Doctor/Martha/Des
Word Count: 1775
Rating: PG
Summary: Little miscalculations kind of make a difference.
Notes: I finally finished this. I want to kill it with fire, but I finished it. Sequel to Those Who Have Crossed, and now I can have wacky TARDIS adventures with the OT3 whenever I want.
Disclaimer: Martha and the Doctor belong to the BBC, Des belongs to kawaiispinel, and beyondtherift apparently belongs to no one but itself and will eat your brain.
"Alright, let's just... talk this out." The Doctor had to raise his voice to be heard over the wind and rain, which was not the greatest sign pointing toward being able to talk anything out, but in reality, all he needed was to talk to himself. It would be nice if he could pretend someone else was listening, though. "It's not-"
"I'm wet," Des said, glaring at the Doctor from underneath the decidedly wet hair plastered to his forehead. Though they'd managed to find a mostly sheltered alcove underneath a boulder, it wasn't quite big enough for the three of them, and water kept leaking in. Mostly on Des. The Doctor paused, and blinked at him.
"You're what?" It wasn't so much the comment that surprised him as... well, yes. Yes, it was. Even Des didn't usually feel the need to point out things quite that obvious. Might as well announce that space was big or Chicago a bad idea for a vacation.
"We're all wet," Martha said, sounding more tired than anything else. "So I swear, if you complain, I'm going to find a rock and knock you both out with it."
"For which I would need immediate medical attention and then you'd have a head wound," Des pointed out, giving Martha a flicker of a teasing smile before he reverted to his previous more than slightly damp sulk. "I meant, I'm wet, and I'm finding it just a little difficult to think so we can talk things out."
"You've had worse!" the Doctor pointed out.
"Not since the advent of electricity!"
The Doctor paused, eying Des for a minute with a deep frown as he tried to think of ways to point out that "I'm wet" was far from an acceptable reason to stop thinking, and gave up after a minute, moving back to his original line of thought. "It's not as if anything could have taken the TARDIS. There's nothing on this planet that could take it... and anyway, the door was locked."
"How do you know she didn't just get bored and wander off without you?"
The Doctor weighed the annoyance of Des asking stupid questions against the annoyance of Des pouting at him, and decided to let him keep talking for the moment. "Not this TARDIS. She... doesn't move under her own power. Got to be someone at the controls, and like I said... No one who could even get inside the TARDIS, never mind fly her."
"So."
"So?"
"Where does that leave us?"
"Ah..." The Doctor grimaced and glanced to the water sheeting down outside, the downward slope of the mountain he could see from their current position. "That's actually a very good question."
*
The rain let up eventually. The Doctor found an almost round pebble and occupied himself by tossing it in the air and catching it while he tried to think. Des fell asleep leaning against Martha.
"This doesn't make sense," he muttered - not loud enough to wake Des, but enough to be perfectly audible to Martha. "I don't mean I don't understand how it happened, I mean it literally... does not make sense."
"You mean the TARDIS being gone."
"Of course I mean the TARDIS being gone." He missed a catch, dropped the pebble, glared at it like that was its fault, and sighed. "It was here. I swear it was here! And there's no one else on the whole planet who could have taken, it, trust me, so I don't-"
"You don't have to shout," Martha said quietly. The Doctor stopped, mouth open, and realized he had been... well, not shouting, but getting there. He sighed and ran his fingers through still damp hair.
"That machine was... well, I don't want to say perfect, because that's just asking for trouble, but it was working. We're exactly where we're supposed to be, more or less when we're supposed to be..."
Just without the TARDIS. He scooped up the pebble again and tossed it toward the opening of their little shelter. It tumbled out and down the slope, and the Doctor stared after it long after it had fallen out of his sight.
"I'm sorry, Martha. I'm... really sorry. And now you're stuck here." He kept his eyes off her, focusing instead on the dim gray light outside, a cloudy morning on an empty planet. Well done, escaping Chicago for an even worse exile.
"We're all stuck here," Martha pointed out, "so don't act like it's just me. Besides, I've been stuck before, and there are worse places to be. I have the two of you, anyway."
The Doctor smiled, very faintly, and glanced over to her without turning his head. He felt he must have had this conversation some time before - with her, or someone else, it didn't really matter, because the lines were all the same. Same old scene, except this time he couldn't see much of a way out unless they planned to just wait for a few thousand years...
"This isn't Chicago," he said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against rough stone. Martha reached over, across Des, to brush her fingers over the back of his hand, and he turned his hand over slowly to rest against hers, palm to palm. "It's not even 1963, we're just... kind of..."
There was a sound. Not wind or rain, but a familiar sound, rising through the damp early morning air. The Doctor lifted his head, eyes snapping open, and Martha jumped, jolting Des awake. He blinked sleepily at first Martha and then the Doctor, muttering, "Wha...?" He trailed off, frowned a little, and then asked, "Is that the TARDIS?"
The three of them tumbled out of their shallow alcove as one, scrambling in the mud and almost sliding down the slope. Des careened into the Doctor, and he just barely caught himself on a rock to keep from toppling over completely. He was reminded, abruptly, that he'd twisted his ankle earlier, and that it rather hurt, but he had more important things to worry about at the moment.
"Where's it coming from?" Martha asked, after glancing over and eying the Doctor to be sure he wasn't going to fall over.
"I think-"
"Shhhh!" The Doctor held up a hand to quiet them, one finger raised, and listened intently for a second before charging off. "This way!"
Even on muddy, uneven ground and with a twisted ankle, running was something the Doctor was very, very good at, and before long he skidded to a stop in sight of a blue box, Martha and Des so close to him that they nearly ran into him, Martha catching herself on his shoulder. The Doctor broke into a grin. "There you are, you beautiful, beautiful - oh."
The door of the TARDIS started to swing open, and the Doctor ducked behind the nearest boulder, dragging Des and Martha with him. He waited for a moment, still grinning at the two of them from behind the cover of the boulder, until he heard the door swing shut, the sound of shoes in mud. A peek over the top of the rock confirmed it - there he was, walking away from the TARDIS with his hands in his pockets, wearing the same suit and trainers he'd fallen through the Rift in, though with a notable lack of goo.
It was odd, looking at himself. He was almost certain his hair didn't normally do that.
"The problem," he said, sliding back down and careful to keep his voice low, "the problem is that I'm thick. Brain as clever as mine and I'm still-" He stopped and turned to Des. "What was that?"
Des raised his eyebrows innocently like he hadn't just muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "About time you admitted it", and that innocent expression was completely undermined by the grin on his face. "What?"
"You..." The Doctor waved a finger in his face, trying to find an appropriate response, and finally rolled his eyes and looked away, peeking back up over the boulder again. "You be quiet. I wasn't that far off. Twenty-four hours, give or take..."
The other Doctor was already moving out of sight, and the Doctor clambered over and around the rock, down to the TARDIS, vaguely disconcerted when he didn't hear the usual psychic :: :D :: in his mind. But he remembered he wouldn't come back to the TARDIS before falling through the Rift, and that meant that-
"It does make a difference," Martha muttered, just behind him, and he glanced back to her when he stopped in front of the TARDIS, digging through his pockets for his TARDIS key. He knew he had to have it... somewhere around here still.
"What?"
"Twenty-four hours."
"Oh, come on. Barely a difference. Just a little rain, one night out in the open..."
"Pneumonia..." Des chimed in, though he didn't seem to be coughing or anything. The Doctor shot him a scornful look and finally pulled out his key to unlock the door, and it swung open like it had been waiting for him, when really he'd only just left...
The warm gold and gray wasn't exactly the same as he remembered it, as he started up the ramp. It was almost too quiet, more than emptiness, less than presence. "Hello," he murmured, though he didn't expect a response, and tossed his coat on the railing, right where it belonged. He heard the door shut behind him, Des and Martha's feet on the walkway behind him, and he bounded up to the console itself, running his hands over the controls without actually flipping any switches or hitting any buttons. The controls were different to the ones on the other TARDIS, but he remembered them well enough.
"So!" he said without glancing back to the other two, already configuring the navigation, his hearts lifting a little at the rising sound of systems coming to life. It seemed like lifetimes since he'd heard it, and like just the sound of it brushed away all that time like it had never happened. He smiled a little more, spinning to face Des and Martha. "Where to?"
Des wandered around the console, eying the whole thing like he was waiting for it to psychically pounce him, and then flopped onto the jump seat, placing his feet on the console and making himself comfortable like it was where he belonged. Martha settled down beside him, easy as coming home. "Anywhere but Chicago."