A Different Kind of Doctor by AJ (DW, PG-13, Martha Jones)
Can't sleep, marking will eat me.
Title: A Different Kind of Doctor
Written by: AJ
Genre/Universe: POV/DW New S3
Rating: PG-13 for mild sex references
Character(s): Martha Jones
Word count: 1148
Warning(s): Spoilers for Series 3 episodes 1 and 2.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein are featured in the Doctor Who series, and are the property of Russell T Davies, BBC Wales, CBC and the various scriptwriters. No disrespect is intended in their use, and no money is being made.
Notes: There's been a lot of interesting meta on the way the Doctor has behaved towards Martha so far, and I couldn't help wondering how it would all look to Martha herself.
Feedback: In a word, loved. Feedback policy is here
Summary: After her first journey in time, Martha finds herself alone and pondering her mysterious new acquaintance.
Martha cautiously pushed open the door and found herself in a very ordinary-looking kitchen, which was surprising because part of her expected that nothing inside this freaky ship would look so normal. She supposed it answered the question of where he'd got that jar of marmalade he'd been eating with his fingers in the console room before they'd landed in 1599. There was a kettle on the worktop facing her that didn't have too many confusing buttons, so she checked it had water and set it to boil while she raided the cupboards for something that looked like tea and a mug. The fridge looked just like a fridge and had perfectly run-of-the-mill cartons of long-life milk inside, which she tried not to be disturbed by. Having succeeded in making a mug of tea, she wondered if it wasn't a bit rude not to make one for him, but since he'd disappeared the moment they'd got back on the ship muttering something about Queen Elizabeth and 'this body', whatever that meant, she supposed he was off doing something and wouldn't appreciate her disturbing him.
She settled into a high-backed chair at a small table located at the opposite end of the kitchen, and blew on the surface of the hot liquid before placing it down on the table, remembering at the last second to grab a coaster on the off chance that the table was a valuable antique or something. She supposed if it was he could pop back to whenever it was made and grab another one, but it probably wasn't worth taking the chance. The swirling liquid in the mug mesmerised her for a moment, then she blinked exhaustedly and shook her head a little. Queen Elizabeth. Shakespeare. He did this all the time, meeting people she'd only ever seen bad sketches of in history textbooks. If he could bring her back to her own time could he go to any point in the future? He knew things about the future, but had he arrived in her present from some period after that? Could he go further forward than whenever he'd come from? How far forward was that? He could obviously go to other planets since he came from one. What if he had all of time and space at his fingertips, beginnings and endings and all the bits in between?
One trip, he'd said, so he was probably going to walk through that door any second and announce that he'd brought her home. Not that that was a bad thing. There were bills to pay, exams to study for and ridiculously long days to collapse at the end of. There was her completely mental family to stand in the middle of, grabbing onto everyone and stubbornly refusing to let them fly apart. She couldn't possibly turn into a whiny little girl and pester him for just one more trip. Though, as she took a tentative sip of hot liquid and was relieved to find it tasted exactly like tea, she reflected that she couldn't yet be sure she'd have to.
He was so confusing. One minute he was flashing her a smile that would have made stars pale in comparison and beckoning her to come and meet the Universe, and the next he was telling her she wasn't as good as his ex. Maybe he was confusing because he was confused, or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing and exactly what it was doing to her. She vividly recalled that sly wink when she'd heard both his hearts beating. He paraded just enough weirdness in front of her to make her want to ask questions and then refused to answer half of them. Also there was the way he'd casually leaned against that wall looking at her with dark eyes full of promise and then just slipped away without a word. He hadn't asked her to follow because he knew he didn't have to; knew that even if she wasn't the sort of girl who'd follow a strange man into a dark alleyway she'd follow him.
He was different and he knew it. She hadn't missed the way he'd twice, at least twice, let her get close enough to want him and then pushed her away unsatisfied, and that was deliberate and devious but still made her ache even though she knew it. Somehow she couldn't help it. Did he really have to prove his time-travelling capabilities with an impromptu partial-striptease in the middle of a crowded street in front of her, arriving back looking dishevelled and somehow more undressed than he should appear for only having removed his tie? That quirky combination of a rumpled suit and trainers he wore said he knew what the rules were thank you very much, but was doing whatever the hell he liked anyway. Those old eyes in that young face had seen things she could scarcely imagine, and would go on seeing such things with or without her. That ruffled brown hair made her hands itch to reach out and finger-comb it flat. She could still picture the way he'd scooped marmalade out of the jar and licked it off his fingers, and she just knew he did the impossible, saved the Universe and rescued the princess all before breakfast. The only thing she didn't know was what he did with the princess afterwards, but her guess was that he'd never rescue her so she could find out.
She hoped he was manipulating her. She knew he wasn't really trying to seduce her, not in that way, and she wasn't going to be somebody's rebound shag anyway. Might not even be possible, because he looked human and everything but it wasn't like she'd seen that much of him. Maybe Time Lords reproduced completely differently, or not at all. Two hearts, and whatever else he had more of than he ought to... or less of, knowing her luck. If he was seducing her in any way it was his crazy life he wanted her to want, and if that was the case then at least part of him wanted her to stay. Why he might want that was something she wasn't sure of yet. Two heads were always better than one, but he acted as though his was infinitely superior to hers. Maybe he was lonely. Had he been alone since Rose, whoever she was, had gone... wherever she'd gone? Did he have family or anyone to care for him anywhere? Was there anywhere in space or time he belonged any more?
This was too much. He was rude and arrogant and he had the whole of space and time to wander across, and now she was bloody well feeling sorry for him. That had to stop, whether he asked her to stay or not.
She hoped he'd let her stay, if only for a while.
Title: A Different Kind of Doctor
Written by: AJ
Genre/Universe: POV/DW New S3
Rating: PG-13 for mild sex references
Character(s): Martha Jones
Word count: 1148
Warning(s): Spoilers for Series 3 episodes 1 and 2.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein are featured in the Doctor Who series, and are the property of Russell T Davies, BBC Wales, CBC and the various scriptwriters. No disrespect is intended in their use, and no money is being made.
Notes: There's been a lot of interesting meta on the way the Doctor has behaved towards Martha so far, and I couldn't help wondering how it would all look to Martha herself.
Feedback: In a word, loved. Feedback policy is here
Summary: After her first journey in time, Martha finds herself alone and pondering her mysterious new acquaintance.
Martha cautiously pushed open the door and found herself in a very ordinary-looking kitchen, which was surprising because part of her expected that nothing inside this freaky ship would look so normal. She supposed it answered the question of where he'd got that jar of marmalade he'd been eating with his fingers in the console room before they'd landed in 1599. There was a kettle on the worktop facing her that didn't have too many confusing buttons, so she checked it had water and set it to boil while she raided the cupboards for something that looked like tea and a mug. The fridge looked just like a fridge and had perfectly run-of-the-mill cartons of long-life milk inside, which she tried not to be disturbed by. Having succeeded in making a mug of tea, she wondered if it wasn't a bit rude not to make one for him, but since he'd disappeared the moment they'd got back on the ship muttering something about Queen Elizabeth and 'this body', whatever that meant, she supposed he was off doing something and wouldn't appreciate her disturbing him.
She settled into a high-backed chair at a small table located at the opposite end of the kitchen, and blew on the surface of the hot liquid before placing it down on the table, remembering at the last second to grab a coaster on the off chance that the table was a valuable antique or something. She supposed if it was he could pop back to whenever it was made and grab another one, but it probably wasn't worth taking the chance. The swirling liquid in the mug mesmerised her for a moment, then she blinked exhaustedly and shook her head a little. Queen Elizabeth. Shakespeare. He did this all the time, meeting people she'd only ever seen bad sketches of in history textbooks. If he could bring her back to her own time could he go to any point in the future? He knew things about the future, but had he arrived in her present from some period after that? Could he go further forward than whenever he'd come from? How far forward was that? He could obviously go to other planets since he came from one. What if he had all of time and space at his fingertips, beginnings and endings and all the bits in between?
One trip, he'd said, so he was probably going to walk through that door any second and announce that he'd brought her home. Not that that was a bad thing. There were bills to pay, exams to study for and ridiculously long days to collapse at the end of. There was her completely mental family to stand in the middle of, grabbing onto everyone and stubbornly refusing to let them fly apart. She couldn't possibly turn into a whiny little girl and pester him for just one more trip. Though, as she took a tentative sip of hot liquid and was relieved to find it tasted exactly like tea, she reflected that she couldn't yet be sure she'd have to.
He was so confusing. One minute he was flashing her a smile that would have made stars pale in comparison and beckoning her to come and meet the Universe, and the next he was telling her she wasn't as good as his ex. Maybe he was confusing because he was confused, or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing and exactly what it was doing to her. She vividly recalled that sly wink when she'd heard both his hearts beating. He paraded just enough weirdness in front of her to make her want to ask questions and then refused to answer half of them. Also there was the way he'd casually leaned against that wall looking at her with dark eyes full of promise and then just slipped away without a word. He hadn't asked her to follow because he knew he didn't have to; knew that even if she wasn't the sort of girl who'd follow a strange man into a dark alleyway she'd follow him.
He was different and he knew it. She hadn't missed the way he'd twice, at least twice, let her get close enough to want him and then pushed her away unsatisfied, and that was deliberate and devious but still made her ache even though she knew it. Somehow she couldn't help it. Did he really have to prove his time-travelling capabilities with an impromptu partial-striptease in the middle of a crowded street in front of her, arriving back looking dishevelled and somehow more undressed than he should appear for only having removed his tie? That quirky combination of a rumpled suit and trainers he wore said he knew what the rules were thank you very much, but was doing whatever the hell he liked anyway. Those old eyes in that young face had seen things she could scarcely imagine, and would go on seeing such things with or without her. That ruffled brown hair made her hands itch to reach out and finger-comb it flat. She could still picture the way he'd scooped marmalade out of the jar and licked it off his fingers, and she just knew he did the impossible, saved the Universe and rescued the princess all before breakfast. The only thing she didn't know was what he did with the princess afterwards, but her guess was that he'd never rescue her so she could find out.
She hoped he was manipulating her. She knew he wasn't really trying to seduce her, not in that way, and she wasn't going to be somebody's rebound shag anyway. Might not even be possible, because he looked human and everything but it wasn't like she'd seen that much of him. Maybe Time Lords reproduced completely differently, or not at all. Two hearts, and whatever else he had more of than he ought to... or less of, knowing her luck. If he was seducing her in any way it was his crazy life he wanted her to want, and if that was the case then at least part of him wanted her to stay. Why he might want that was something she wasn't sure of yet. Two heads were always better than one, but he acted as though his was infinitely superior to hers. Maybe he was lonely. Had he been alone since Rose, whoever she was, had gone... wherever she'd gone? Did he have family or anyone to care for him anywhere? Was there anywhere in space or time he belonged any more?
This was too much. He was rude and arrogant and he had the whole of space and time to wander across, and now she was bloody well feeling sorry for him. That had to stop, whether he asked her to stay or not.
She hoped he'd let her stay, if only for a while.