Ficlet: Five Times Martha Wished She'd Never Met the Doctor, and One Time She Was Very Glad She Had
Another 5 times story - this time for persiflage_1!
Five Times Martha Wished She'd Never Met the Doctor, and One Time She Was Very Glad She Had.
I
Martha was dying, she knew she was. She had, quite literally, given her last breath away to a complete stranger. He lay beside her, so very, very still, and Martha felt her vision began to blur and dim as her world ended.
She was a fool, and she was too young to die.
II
For the first two weeks, Martha's knees hurt whenever she scrubbed the floors. With each long reach of her arms, she rocked forward and back and cleaned the plain and wooden boards, and the pain just seemed to mock her.
Then, on a Wednesday morning, she bit her lip as she pushed the floor cloth in front of her, and then paused as she realised it didn't hurt as much as before. At the time, she had been relieved but, that night, as she shed the petticoats under her uniform, she realised she has callouses on her knees and shins.
For the first time since they'd arrived at the school, Martha cried herself to sleep.
III
He didn't love her.
Oh, he cared for her, all right, would even give his life for her... but, as she watched him across the room, laughing excitable as he described with his hands his plan to free the planet Abga, Martha realised that she was never going to see the crushing intensity of her feelings reflected back at her.
Then, the crowd around him shifted, and the Doctor's eyes caught hers, sharing the moment. There was such a gleefulness there, such a joy... but, no, he would never love her.
She feared she may never be free of this man.
IV
The bastard.
Martha felt her fingers curl into fists, as a slow, deep rage built inside her. Her family were in danger, and he just sat there, eating chips. She wanted to scream, she wanted to roar, she wanted him to understand.
This was all his fault.
V
The dark sky overhead hummed with the childish spite of the Toclafane, and Martha hadn't been able to build a fire for the last four nights. Her sleeping bag was damp and chilly, and ration bar she'd eaten an hour ago had been slightly stale. A few broken branches were pulled over her, to camouflage her from the air, but she still didn't feel safe.
In the past seven months, she had seen cities burn, families decimated, and friends betrayed, but it was on nights like these, when the only sounds she heard were the sighs of her own breathing, and the lingering taunts of Toclafane, that the terror really threatened to take hold.
She wished she were someone else.
AND
Mickey was alive.
Martha wasn't sure how the Doctor did it, how he brought her husband back to life, but she suspected he may have broken a few laws; the unbreakable sort of laws, the kind with consequences. She found she didn't care.
“Thank you,” she breathed, as she hugged him tightly.
“Anything for you, Martha,” he murmured back. “You know that.”
FINIS
Five Times Martha Wished She'd Never Met the Doctor, and One Time She Was Very Glad She Had.
I
Martha was dying, she knew she was. She had, quite literally, given her last breath away to a complete stranger. He lay beside her, so very, very still, and Martha felt her vision began to blur and dim as her world ended.
She was a fool, and she was too young to die.
II
For the first two weeks, Martha's knees hurt whenever she scrubbed the floors. With each long reach of her arms, she rocked forward and back and cleaned the plain and wooden boards, and the pain just seemed to mock her.
Then, on a Wednesday morning, she bit her lip as she pushed the floor cloth in front of her, and then paused as she realised it didn't hurt as much as before. At the time, she had been relieved but, that night, as she shed the petticoats under her uniform, she realised she has callouses on her knees and shins.
For the first time since they'd arrived at the school, Martha cried herself to sleep.
III
He didn't love her.
Oh, he cared for her, all right, would even give his life for her... but, as she watched him across the room, laughing excitable as he described with his hands his plan to free the planet Abga, Martha realised that she was never going to see the crushing intensity of her feelings reflected back at her.
Then, the crowd around him shifted, and the Doctor's eyes caught hers, sharing the moment. There was such a gleefulness there, such a joy... but, no, he would never love her.
She feared she may never be free of this man.
IV
The bastard.
Martha felt her fingers curl into fists, as a slow, deep rage built inside her. Her family were in danger, and he just sat there, eating chips. She wanted to scream, she wanted to roar, she wanted him to understand.
This was all his fault.
V
The dark sky overhead hummed with the childish spite of the Toclafane, and Martha hadn't been able to build a fire for the last four nights. Her sleeping bag was damp and chilly, and ration bar she'd eaten an hour ago had been slightly stale. A few broken branches were pulled over her, to camouflage her from the air, but she still didn't feel safe.
In the past seven months, she had seen cities burn, families decimated, and friends betrayed, but it was on nights like these, when the only sounds she heard were the sighs of her own breathing, and the lingering taunts of Toclafane, that the terror really threatened to take hold.
She wished she were someone else.
AND
Mickey was alive.
Martha wasn't sure how the Doctor did it, how he brought her husband back to life, but she suspected he may have broken a few laws; the unbreakable sort of laws, the kind with consequences. She found she didn't care.
“Thank you,” she breathed, as she hugged him tightly.
“Anything for you, Martha,” he murmured back. “You know that.”
FINIS