muses_gonewild 61. Holiday Shopping
It’s been 155 days since the Proper Doctor left him here with Martha.
He still remembers that day well. He remembers being afraid and angry. He remembers the Daleks and Davros and everything they’ve ever done and everything they would and could do. He remembers a choice and he is told he made the wrong one. He should have given them a choice. He didn’t. They wouldn’t give him a choice either, would they? Still it was the wrong thing to do.
He remembers hearing goodbyes. Maybe he said them, too. He wasn’t sure. He remembers being left on Earth, watching the TARDIS disappear. The sound of the universe, the most spectacular sound one can imagine, and it was all going away.
He remembers a hand and a kind smile and being pulled along a path by Martha Jones. He remembers her taking him home.
She smiles at him and holds out a hand. He looks at it, uncertainly before taking it. He thinks for a moment he likes the way her hand feels in his, but pushes the thought away. He isn’t supposed to think of her that way. He remembers something about that, and only wanting a mate. And mates can hold hands, can’t they?
“It will be all right, now come on.”
He remembers enough to know Martha doesn’t lie, and she seems so nice, and she might even take care of him. So he believes her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He remembers standing in her flat. Still in his suit. Or His suit. Whatever the case may be. Unsure what to do with himself. Unsure how to sit or stand or act. He wasn’t even entirely sure how he was supposed to talk with Martha now that he wasn’t really Him, let alone how he would live with her.
He lingered near the door. Awkward. Afraid to come too far in just yet. That would be commitment and that would be acceptance and that was too far to go just yet. Besides that, his shoes were muddy and her floors were clean, and he was sure she wouldn’t appreciate dirty floors. And he just wasn’t quite ready to take off his trainers just yet.
He tried to think of something to say, when the sound of the door startled him. He turned around and there was Tom. He knew his name. He knew it enough not to get it wrong. It must’ve been Donna. It was hard trying to sort out the pieces of him that were the Doctor or Donna. He wondered if any pieces of him were unique just to him. Probably not.
“The Doctor?”
“No.”
He hadn’t even thought of Tom being here. That was a foolish thing to forget, wasn’t it? He didn’t even know how to be around Martha quite yet, let alone Tom. He watched Martha. Watched her smile at Tom. He liked that smile. He wondered if anyone would smile at him like that. Maybe Martha would one day. Her smile fades and now she looks embarrassed. He knows that look is because of him.
“This is….a friend of mine.”
He watches them, and then they disappear upstairs. He’s left alone, standing in the doorway. His eyes travel to the window and he thinks of walking out the door. Walking away completely. But Martha said things would be all right. Martha would take care of him. She was good at that.
Maybe he would stay for a little while.
He hears footsteps coming down and there stands Tom and he seems so nice and perfectly all right and he can’t think of any reason he shouldn’t like him. But for some reason he thinks it might be better if Tom wasn’t here at all. He feels a pang of guilt hit him as Tom shakes his hand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She loves Tom.
She says it. She shouts it. He nods. He wishes he could go away. He thinks he might. She won’t let him. She loves Tom. She doesn’t look at him. And he’s just stuck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He hates the talk of weddings. He hates every mention of it. He hates the fact that Martha has decided he should be one of Tom’s groomsmen. He hates how little she even considers why that sort of thing might bother him. So he walks out. It’s stupid and pointless and he feels it’s entirely indicative of his current state. Martha still finds him, brings him home. She always finds him, she always takes care of him. He wonders if that’s what it means to love someone. The only thing is she’s wearing an engagement ring and in love with another man.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He has plans tonight. He tells Martha it’s plans with a couple people from UNIT. It’s good he won’t be here. Tom is coming back, and they need privacy.
But Martha seems to have so many questions about what he’s doing, and he just lies.
He’s going out with a girl. The sister of a co-worker. She seems bright and nice and he thinks he should like her. Maybe he does, he isn’t sure.
Somehow Martha seems to pop up in the conversation. At first the girl smiles indulgently. Soon indulgent smiles turn into annoyed sighs. When the time comes to go see a film, the girl just says she isn’t feeling well and thinks she will go home.
He shrugs and offers to share a cab with her. She says she’s fine on her own.
He gets back to their flat, and it is lit up like a Christmas tree. Candles and things littered all over the place. He thinks it’s ridiculous and silly and rolls his eyes at the display.
He bounds up the stairs, ready to take a shower and then go to bed. Except he can hear muffled whispers and giggles and sounds. He nearly trips over one of his trainers in the hallway.
He picks it up and goes straight to bed instead. Closing the door and his eyes and wishing he could close his ears as well.
The worst part is the small sounds of laughter that seem to peel through the walls. Not because it’s laughter, but because it doesn’t sound like Martha to him. He wonders if she has a library of laughs, reserved for different people. He thinks he much prefers the laughter he has grown to know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walls are thin, and he’s learned a little about her sleeping patterns. He thinks he remembers she used to call out for the Doctor. He doesn’t hear it that much anymore. It used to be calmer when Tom was around. Now it’s just calmer in general. It’s gotten to the point where it’s just a soft muffled voice. He wonders what Tom says to her to soothe her in her sleep. Whatever he says must work, because she seems to have gotten better piece by piece.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He remembers that Donna hates the holidays. The Doctor, he likes the holidays well enough, but it’s always disaster. For him though, this human sort of Doctor, he likes the holidays. He likes the bustle and the rush of ordinary holiday merriment. He doesn’t need disaster and he doesn’t need to be jaded and he thinks that this might be a part of him that has nothing to do with anyone else but him. It makes him like the holidays all the more. He likes the snow when it comes and the Christmas displays and the little tree Martha has in her flat.
He even likes the presents he picked out. She mentioned wanting to travel to China, so he bought her a Cantonese-English dictionary and a travel journal to go along with it. The wrapping isn’t quite so bad, he decides. It all seems well and good enough. Until Tom arrives and puts his gifts under the tree as well. His wrapping really is horrendous, especially sitting next to Tom’s pristinely wrapped gift. He almost pulls his badly wrapped gift out from under the tree right then. Maybe he can say he forgot. Martha already saw it there, though. Now he has no choice.
He looks at Tom, and remembers the bookshop. Remembers the awkwardness and the shuffle and his complete inability to know how to look at a price tag. Spending all that time walking around, holding everything he held tight against his chest, afraid he’d lose something and wouldn’t be able to find it again. All that only to not have enough cash to pay for it all. Tom there to witness the entire embarrassing ordeal.
He sits in the living room watching Tom now. Wondering if him and the salesgirl had a laugh about that idiot who didn’t have enough money to pay for a few stupid books. He wonders if Tom told Martha, too.
He looks at Tom’s gift, and his barely acquired one, and he suddenly wishes the entire holiday was over. Maybe this was why people didn’t like the holidays. Maybe he didn’t even have that small piece of him that was just him.
Still the three of them have their Christmas Eve celebration. Wine and small talk and awkwardness. Tomorrow would be at Francine’s. Despite himself he was looking forward to the entire event a little. His moaning gave no clue to this, but he sort of was.
His eyes keep finding those two gifts under the tree. Tom’s neat and straight and looking like it came from a picture. His own paper wrinkled around the edges with just a bit too much tape. When it’s time for exchanging gifts, he wants nothing more than to crawl under a rock.
Gifts are handed out, and he stares at his own gift from Martha, turning it over in his hands. No nametag on it. He wonders what that must be like, labeling a gift with no name. It must be difficult.
Tom wasn’t moving to open his gift, and Martha was holding both of hers.
Finally she sighs.
“All right, if neither of you are going to start, I guess it’s going to be me.”
She looks at the two packages and moves to open Tom’s. He wasn’t that surprised.
She opens the paper carefully and inside was a box. Opening it up she pulls out a sapphire necklace.
“Oh, Tom!”
She leans over and kisses Tom. He averts his gaze, feeling like a third wheel. He wants to pull away his gifts now more than ever. Books. £23 total and that was only because the shop girl felt badly for him and snuck him the employee discount.
“I found it in Africa. The necklace of a goddess of a local tribe.”
“I love it.” She puts it around her neck, letting Tom close the clasp. She smiles over at her flat mate. “What do you think?”
“It’s lovely,” he says, smiling. Wondering how in the world a Cantonese dictionary and a blank travel journal were meant to compare with a goddess’ necklace.
She smiles, pressing her hand against the sapphire against her neck.
He takes a breath and stands up, still trying to keep a smile on his face.
“I’m tired and we have to be up early for your mum’s. Unless there might be a way-”
“No!”
“Right, then I’m going to turn in early. Merry Christmas,” he turns towards Tom, still smiling as best he can, “and Happy Hanukkah, too.”
Martha looks like she wants to say something, and he watches her fingers playing with the paper that covers his gifts to her. Scratching at it a little. He really wishes he’d forgotten to buy something.
“Good night.”
“Good night,” Tom nods.
He moves into his room. Still holding the gift she gave him. He sits down on the futon. Turning the gift over in his hand one more time before quickly pulling the paper off. He smiles as he pulls out the watch sitting inside the box.
He lay in bed, playing with the dials, and the settings and studying the message engraved on the inside.
I’m glad I’ve got you, too. - M
He studies the engraving for another minute or so, before putting the watch on and falling asleep. He thinks maybe Christmas isn’t so bad after all, despite his failures in the gift giving department.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tom is going back to Africa today. New Years Eve.
It’s all very rushed and Martha and Tom seem to be trying to fit as much into the small time they have left together until he is gone for another couple months.
Everything seems a little better. Martha is a little less stressed about the wedding. She doesn’t even seem to talk about the small details anymore. She sleeps better and she smiles more and he can’t help but think it’s all down to Tom. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The only thing that has changed since he has been here is Tom’s increased presence.
Maybe she’ll never love him, but she loves Tom and he loves her. He’s seemed to make her better and he can’t pretend that away. So he’ll be happy for them and he’ll just love her in silence.
If he’s completely honest with himself, he’d say he was jealous. But Tom has to be good for her, because it feels like the more time goes by and the more Tom comes around the better she is. She seems happier. Sometimes he wishes Tom weren’t so perfect and Martha wasn’t so happy with him. It’s selfish and sad and he still can’t help but feel that way. It’s harder because he knows throughout all this Tom is a decent bloke. He knew Tom wouldn’t tell Martha about the bookshop even when he was having those lingering doubts. Tom wasn’t that sort, Tom probably would’ve even offered to lend him a few pounds. He really wished Tom were a bastard sometimes.
He listens to the sound of water and pipes from upstairs. Martha’s walking around, practicing her Cantonese as Tom showers. He’s glad she’s gotten some use out of the book. It might not be a goddess’ necklace, but at least it might come in useful. Maybe her and Tom will honeymoon there. He’s not sure, he just hopes she’ll get to see China at some point.
“I think I’m improving.”
“What?” he asks.
“The dictionary, I think I’m improving.”
“Oh yeah. I’m not entirely surprised, you’re a quick learner.”
She smiled at him, looking at his wrist. “Do you like the watch?”
“Oh yeah, it’s brilliant, I love it.”
He smiles at her, genuine, turning the watch around on his wrist.
“You better.”
She almost walks away, but turns around.
“This will be our first New Year together. I have a feeling it’s going to be a good one, too.”
She smiles at him, then goes back to tidying up, Cantonese words and phrases in the air.
He looks down at his watch and thinks maybe it would be a good year. Martha doesn’t lie. He knows that from experience.
OOC: Inspired by the wonderful
imnot_hisgirl , who was a lovely beta and gave me permission to create this piece as a companion to this amazing prompt response.
He still remembers that day well. He remembers being afraid and angry. He remembers the Daleks and Davros and everything they’ve ever done and everything they would and could do. He remembers a choice and he is told he made the wrong one. He should have given them a choice. He didn’t. They wouldn’t give him a choice either, would they? Still it was the wrong thing to do.
He remembers hearing goodbyes. Maybe he said them, too. He wasn’t sure. He remembers being left on Earth, watching the TARDIS disappear. The sound of the universe, the most spectacular sound one can imagine, and it was all going away.
He remembers a hand and a kind smile and being pulled along a path by Martha Jones. He remembers her taking him home.
She smiles at him and holds out a hand. He looks at it, uncertainly before taking it. He thinks for a moment he likes the way her hand feels in his, but pushes the thought away. He isn’t supposed to think of her that way. He remembers something about that, and only wanting a mate. And mates can hold hands, can’t they?
“It will be all right, now come on.”
He remembers enough to know Martha doesn’t lie, and she seems so nice, and she might even take care of him. So he believes her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He remembers standing in her flat. Still in his suit. Or His suit. Whatever the case may be. Unsure what to do with himself. Unsure how to sit or stand or act. He wasn’t even entirely sure how he was supposed to talk with Martha now that he wasn’t really Him, let alone how he would live with her.
He lingered near the door. Awkward. Afraid to come too far in just yet. That would be commitment and that would be acceptance and that was too far to go just yet. Besides that, his shoes were muddy and her floors were clean, and he was sure she wouldn’t appreciate dirty floors. And he just wasn’t quite ready to take off his trainers just yet.
He tried to think of something to say, when the sound of the door startled him. He turned around and there was Tom. He knew his name. He knew it enough not to get it wrong. It must’ve been Donna. It was hard trying to sort out the pieces of him that were the Doctor or Donna. He wondered if any pieces of him were unique just to him. Probably not.
“The Doctor?”
“No.”
He hadn’t even thought of Tom being here. That was a foolish thing to forget, wasn’t it? He didn’t even know how to be around Martha quite yet, let alone Tom. He watched Martha. Watched her smile at Tom. He liked that smile. He wondered if anyone would smile at him like that. Maybe Martha would one day. Her smile fades and now she looks embarrassed. He knows that look is because of him.
“This is….a friend of mine.”
He watches them, and then they disappear upstairs. He’s left alone, standing in the doorway. His eyes travel to the window and he thinks of walking out the door. Walking away completely. But Martha said things would be all right. Martha would take care of him. She was good at that.
Maybe he would stay for a little while.
He hears footsteps coming down and there stands Tom and he seems so nice and perfectly all right and he can’t think of any reason he shouldn’t like him. But for some reason he thinks it might be better if Tom wasn’t here at all. He feels a pang of guilt hit him as Tom shakes his hand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She loves Tom.
She says it. She shouts it. He nods. He wishes he could go away. He thinks he might. She won’t let him. She loves Tom. She doesn’t look at him. And he’s just stuck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He hates the talk of weddings. He hates every mention of it. He hates the fact that Martha has decided he should be one of Tom’s groomsmen. He hates how little she even considers why that sort of thing might bother him. So he walks out. It’s stupid and pointless and he feels it’s entirely indicative of his current state. Martha still finds him, brings him home. She always finds him, she always takes care of him. He wonders if that’s what it means to love someone. The only thing is she’s wearing an engagement ring and in love with another man.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He has plans tonight. He tells Martha it’s plans with a couple people from UNIT. It’s good he won’t be here. Tom is coming back, and they need privacy.
But Martha seems to have so many questions about what he’s doing, and he just lies.
He’s going out with a girl. The sister of a co-worker. She seems bright and nice and he thinks he should like her. Maybe he does, he isn’t sure.
Somehow Martha seems to pop up in the conversation. At first the girl smiles indulgently. Soon indulgent smiles turn into annoyed sighs. When the time comes to go see a film, the girl just says she isn’t feeling well and thinks she will go home.
He shrugs and offers to share a cab with her. She says she’s fine on her own.
He gets back to their flat, and it is lit up like a Christmas tree. Candles and things littered all over the place. He thinks it’s ridiculous and silly and rolls his eyes at the display.
He bounds up the stairs, ready to take a shower and then go to bed. Except he can hear muffled whispers and giggles and sounds. He nearly trips over one of his trainers in the hallway.
He picks it up and goes straight to bed instead. Closing the door and his eyes and wishing he could close his ears as well.
The worst part is the small sounds of laughter that seem to peel through the walls. Not because it’s laughter, but because it doesn’t sound like Martha to him. He wonders if she has a library of laughs, reserved for different people. He thinks he much prefers the laughter he has grown to know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walls are thin, and he’s learned a little about her sleeping patterns. He thinks he remembers she used to call out for the Doctor. He doesn’t hear it that much anymore. It used to be calmer when Tom was around. Now it’s just calmer in general. It’s gotten to the point where it’s just a soft muffled voice. He wonders what Tom says to her to soothe her in her sleep. Whatever he says must work, because she seems to have gotten better piece by piece.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He remembers that Donna hates the holidays. The Doctor, he likes the holidays well enough, but it’s always disaster. For him though, this human sort of Doctor, he likes the holidays. He likes the bustle and the rush of ordinary holiday merriment. He doesn’t need disaster and he doesn’t need to be jaded and he thinks that this might be a part of him that has nothing to do with anyone else but him. It makes him like the holidays all the more. He likes the snow when it comes and the Christmas displays and the little tree Martha has in her flat.
He even likes the presents he picked out. She mentioned wanting to travel to China, so he bought her a Cantonese-English dictionary and a travel journal to go along with it. The wrapping isn’t quite so bad, he decides. It all seems well and good enough. Until Tom arrives and puts his gifts under the tree as well. His wrapping really is horrendous, especially sitting next to Tom’s pristinely wrapped gift. He almost pulls his badly wrapped gift out from under the tree right then. Maybe he can say he forgot. Martha already saw it there, though. Now he has no choice.
He looks at Tom, and remembers the bookshop. Remembers the awkwardness and the shuffle and his complete inability to know how to look at a price tag. Spending all that time walking around, holding everything he held tight against his chest, afraid he’d lose something and wouldn’t be able to find it again. All that only to not have enough cash to pay for it all. Tom there to witness the entire embarrassing ordeal.
He sits in the living room watching Tom now. Wondering if him and the salesgirl had a laugh about that idiot who didn’t have enough money to pay for a few stupid books. He wonders if Tom told Martha, too.
He looks at Tom’s gift, and his barely acquired one, and he suddenly wishes the entire holiday was over. Maybe this was why people didn’t like the holidays. Maybe he didn’t even have that small piece of him that was just him.
Still the three of them have their Christmas Eve celebration. Wine and small talk and awkwardness. Tomorrow would be at Francine’s. Despite himself he was looking forward to the entire event a little. His moaning gave no clue to this, but he sort of was.
His eyes keep finding those two gifts under the tree. Tom’s neat and straight and looking like it came from a picture. His own paper wrinkled around the edges with just a bit too much tape. When it’s time for exchanging gifts, he wants nothing more than to crawl under a rock.
Gifts are handed out, and he stares at his own gift from Martha, turning it over in his hands. No nametag on it. He wonders what that must be like, labeling a gift with no name. It must be difficult.
Tom wasn’t moving to open his gift, and Martha was holding both of hers.
Finally she sighs.
“All right, if neither of you are going to start, I guess it’s going to be me.”
She looks at the two packages and moves to open Tom’s. He wasn’t that surprised.
She opens the paper carefully and inside was a box. Opening it up she pulls out a sapphire necklace.
“Oh, Tom!”
She leans over and kisses Tom. He averts his gaze, feeling like a third wheel. He wants to pull away his gifts now more than ever. Books. £23 total and that was only because the shop girl felt badly for him and snuck him the employee discount.
“I found it in Africa. The necklace of a goddess of a local tribe.”
“I love it.” She puts it around her neck, letting Tom close the clasp. She smiles over at her flat mate. “What do you think?”
“It’s lovely,” he says, smiling. Wondering how in the world a Cantonese dictionary and a blank travel journal were meant to compare with a goddess’ necklace.
She smiles, pressing her hand against the sapphire against her neck.
He takes a breath and stands up, still trying to keep a smile on his face.
“I’m tired and we have to be up early for your mum’s. Unless there might be a way-”
“No!”
“Right, then I’m going to turn in early. Merry Christmas,” he turns towards Tom, still smiling as best he can, “and Happy Hanukkah, too.”
Martha looks like she wants to say something, and he watches her fingers playing with the paper that covers his gifts to her. Scratching at it a little. He really wishes he’d forgotten to buy something.
“Good night.”
“Good night,” Tom nods.
He moves into his room. Still holding the gift she gave him. He sits down on the futon. Turning the gift over in his hand one more time before quickly pulling the paper off. He smiles as he pulls out the watch sitting inside the box.
He lay in bed, playing with the dials, and the settings and studying the message engraved on the inside.
I’m glad I’ve got you, too. - M
He studies the engraving for another minute or so, before putting the watch on and falling asleep. He thinks maybe Christmas isn’t so bad after all, despite his failures in the gift giving department.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tom is going back to Africa today. New Years Eve.
It’s all very rushed and Martha and Tom seem to be trying to fit as much into the small time they have left together until he is gone for another couple months.
Everything seems a little better. Martha is a little less stressed about the wedding. She doesn’t even seem to talk about the small details anymore. She sleeps better and she smiles more and he can’t help but think it’s all down to Tom. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The only thing that has changed since he has been here is Tom’s increased presence.
Maybe she’ll never love him, but she loves Tom and he loves her. He’s seemed to make her better and he can’t pretend that away. So he’ll be happy for them and he’ll just love her in silence.
If he’s completely honest with himself, he’d say he was jealous. But Tom has to be good for her, because it feels like the more time goes by and the more Tom comes around the better she is. She seems happier. Sometimes he wishes Tom weren’t so perfect and Martha wasn’t so happy with him. It’s selfish and sad and he still can’t help but feel that way. It’s harder because he knows throughout all this Tom is a decent bloke. He knew Tom wouldn’t tell Martha about the bookshop even when he was having those lingering doubts. Tom wasn’t that sort, Tom probably would’ve even offered to lend him a few pounds. He really wished Tom were a bastard sometimes.
He listens to the sound of water and pipes from upstairs. Martha’s walking around, practicing her Cantonese as Tom showers. He’s glad she’s gotten some use out of the book. It might not be a goddess’ necklace, but at least it might come in useful. Maybe her and Tom will honeymoon there. He’s not sure, he just hopes she’ll get to see China at some point.
“I think I’m improving.”
“What?” he asks.
“The dictionary, I think I’m improving.”
“Oh yeah. I’m not entirely surprised, you’re a quick learner.”
She smiled at him, looking at his wrist. “Do you like the watch?”
“Oh yeah, it’s brilliant, I love it.”
He smiles at her, genuine, turning the watch around on his wrist.
“You better.”
She almost walks away, but turns around.
“This will be our first New Year together. I have a feeling it’s going to be a good one, too.”
She smiles at him, then goes back to tidying up, Cantonese words and phrases in the air.
He looks down at his watch and thinks maybe it would be a good year. Martha doesn’t lie. He knows that from experience.
OOC: Inspired by the wonderful
imnot_hisgirl , who was a lovely beta and gave me permission to create this piece as a companion to this amazing prompt response.