DOCTOR WHO FICLET: Ghosts That Haunt [Martha, Ten | Ficlet | Gen]
Title: Ghosts That Haunt
Author: jinxed_wood
Rating: PG
Beta: : Persiflage_1, who cleaned this up a treat!
Characters: Martha Jones, Ten
Spoilers; Spoilery speculation of what Martha’s occupation will be, in the upcoming Torchwood series.
Disclaimer; Doctor Who belongs to the Beeb, all I have is my Microsoft Word…
Author's Note: This story is part of series, charting Martha's life between the end of S3 of Doctor Who and S2 of Torchwood! Previous stories are: Changing Directions, The House Call, Blast From the Past, Road Trip and Finding Sarah Jane
GHOSTS THAT HAUNT
She felt him, before she saw him, a presence in the night black room.
“Could you switch on the light?” she asked, as she shut the door behind her. The lamp went on and lit up the Doctor sitting on the couch. She wasn’t sure if it was the harshness of the lighting, but his face seemed gaunter.
“You don’t look that well,” she said, as she automatically put the back of her hand to his forehead. Both forehead and hand were nearly the same temperature; Martha frowned. “You’re running a fever.”
He looked up at her, his eyes cold and distant as he captured her hand with his. “I was so close,” he said. “I was in the right universe, the right place, so close. All I had to do was find her…and then the TARDIS dragged me back.”
Martha didn’t have to be told who he was talking about; it was Rose, always Rose. She squashed the vague sense of resentment she felt and nodded. “Tea,” she said, as she put on the kettle.
“How long ago?” he asked, into the silence, as Martha pulled out the cups.
“How long ago, what?” He showed her the watch he held in his hand. The one she’d stashed in the cookie jar. Martha sighed. “Five days.”
He nodded, as if this made perfect sense to him. “That would be right,” he said, as he rubbed his hands over his eyes and through his hair. “Do you know where he went?”
“Not a he,” Martha said quietly.
The Doctor stilled. “You sure?”
“Positive,” Martha said. “I can show you a picture, if you’d like. It’s a bit grainy but...”
“Show me.”
She took the file from her desk, and laid it on the table. She looked at him as he held the photo in his hands; an image swiped from her college records. His knuckles were white, his lips a thin, harsh line.
“Is it bad?” Martha asked, hearing the quiver in her voice. The Doctor didn’t answer, just kept on staring at the picture, so Martha finished making the tea, and pulled out the packet of Mariettas she’d stashed in the breadbin for emergencies. He’d spread the rest of the file across the table by the time she brought him his cup.
“Hah,” he said, with a trace of a smile. “Professor McNamora, Winifred, it’s funny how the subconscious never fully lets go.”
“You know her,” Martha concluded.
For the first time that evening, he looked her in the eyes with a smile on his face. “She’s a friend.”
Martha felt something inside her relax; a friend, not a psychopathic enemy bent on destruction. A step up from the last time, at least… but then, she was a Timelord, and Sarah Jane had filled her in, over the last few days. Apparently, the Doctor had been a lot more talkative on the subject, back then.
“What’s her name?”
“Romanadvoratrelundar.”
Martha blinked. “Bit of a mouthful.”
“That’s what I said,” the Doctor “Told her once, I couldn’t keep calling her that, especially if we were in a hurry. I mean, by the time I’d get out ‘run, Romanadvorat… well, you get the picture… so I told her I’d call her Romana, instead.”
And what did she say to that?”
“Didn’t like it, of course; typical Timelord, too bloody stubborn, so I told her it was either that or Fred!”
Martha lips twitched. “Let me guess, she preferred Fred!”
He ducked his head, a half smirk forming on his face. “So, naturally, I called her Romana.”
“Naturally,” Martha said dryly. As far as she was concerned, contrariness and stubbornness seemed to be the hallmarks of the Doctor’s species, not to mention arrogance and hubris... “Have you any idea how she survived - the Time War, I mean?”
The Doctor sighed, his hand automatically going for a Marietta as he slumped back into the couch. “Not a clue,” he admitted. “Romana was never one to back down from a fight, and she was very determined to be there ‘til the end…part of the job, as far as she was concerned.”
“The job?” Martha ventured carefully, afraid he might clam up.
“She was our President.”
“President…” Martha took a breath. “That’s a big job description.”
“Yeah, suppose,” he muttered, pulling at his ear. “This makes no sense, though… I mean, she’d have to have been already in the Alternative Reality Graviton Regulator Arch when it happened…” His eyes lit up. “Leela, of course, makes perfect sense!”
“What makes perfect sense?” Martha asked puzzled. “And who is Leela?”
“An old companion, you’d have liked her,” the Doctor said. “Very proactive, she was… she was Romana’s personal bodyguard, too. Wouldn’t put it past her to pull off a stunt like this. She took the job of keeping Romana alive very seriously.” He jumped to his feet. “Come on, I’ve an idea,” he grabbed her hand, and pulled her towards her bedroom.
“Doctor,” she said gently. “I can’t.”
He paused, then looked slightly bashful. “Sorry, forgot,” he said. “Well…I’ll be off, then.”
Martha leaned against the doorjamb of her bedroom as he opened the TARDIS. “Remember to come back and tell me how it worked out,” she said.
He threw her smile; it almost looked real. “You won’t even notice I was gone.”
Martha watched the TARDIS slowly fade away. For a Time Lord, he could be ridiculously stupid, sometimes. She always noticed when he was gone.
She always would, she suspected.
FINIS
And the next story in this series is Hoist the Sails
Author: jinxed_wood
Rating: PG
Beta: : Persiflage_1, who cleaned this up a treat!
Characters: Martha Jones, Ten
Spoilers; Spoilery speculation of what Martha’s occupation will be, in the upcoming Torchwood series.
Disclaimer; Doctor Who belongs to the Beeb, all I have is my Microsoft Word…
Author's Note: This story is part of series, charting Martha's life between the end of S3 of Doctor Who and S2 of Torchwood! Previous stories are: Changing Directions, The House Call, Blast From the Past, Road Trip and Finding Sarah Jane
GHOSTS THAT HAUNT
She felt him, before she saw him, a presence in the night black room.
“Could you switch on the light?” she asked, as she shut the door behind her. The lamp went on and lit up the Doctor sitting on the couch. She wasn’t sure if it was the harshness of the lighting, but his face seemed gaunter.
“You don’t look that well,” she said, as she automatically put the back of her hand to his forehead. Both forehead and hand were nearly the same temperature; Martha frowned. “You’re running a fever.”
He looked up at her, his eyes cold and distant as he captured her hand with his. “I was so close,” he said. “I was in the right universe, the right place, so close. All I had to do was find her…and then the TARDIS dragged me back.”
Martha didn’t have to be told who he was talking about; it was Rose, always Rose. She squashed the vague sense of resentment she felt and nodded. “Tea,” she said, as she put on the kettle.
“How long ago?” he asked, into the silence, as Martha pulled out the cups.
“How long ago, what?” He showed her the watch he held in his hand. The one she’d stashed in the cookie jar. Martha sighed. “Five days.”
He nodded, as if this made perfect sense to him. “That would be right,” he said, as he rubbed his hands over his eyes and through his hair. “Do you know where he went?”
“Not a he,” Martha said quietly.
The Doctor stilled. “You sure?”
“Positive,” Martha said. “I can show you a picture, if you’d like. It’s a bit grainy but...”
“Show me.”
She took the file from her desk, and laid it on the table. She looked at him as he held the photo in his hands; an image swiped from her college records. His knuckles were white, his lips a thin, harsh line.
“Is it bad?” Martha asked, hearing the quiver in her voice. The Doctor didn’t answer, just kept on staring at the picture, so Martha finished making the tea, and pulled out the packet of Mariettas she’d stashed in the breadbin for emergencies. He’d spread the rest of the file across the table by the time she brought him his cup.
“Hah,” he said, with a trace of a smile. “Professor McNamora, Winifred, it’s funny how the subconscious never fully lets go.”
“You know her,” Martha concluded.
For the first time that evening, he looked her in the eyes with a smile on his face. “She’s a friend.”
Martha felt something inside her relax; a friend, not a psychopathic enemy bent on destruction. A step up from the last time, at least… but then, she was a Timelord, and Sarah Jane had filled her in, over the last few days. Apparently, the Doctor had been a lot more talkative on the subject, back then.
“What’s her name?”
“Romanadvoratrelundar.”
Martha blinked. “Bit of a mouthful.”
“That’s what I said,” the Doctor “Told her once, I couldn’t keep calling her that, especially if we were in a hurry. I mean, by the time I’d get out ‘run, Romanadvorat… well, you get the picture… so I told her I’d call her Romana, instead.”
And what did she say to that?”
“Didn’t like it, of course; typical Timelord, too bloody stubborn, so I told her it was either that or Fred!”
Martha lips twitched. “Let me guess, she preferred Fred!”
He ducked his head, a half smirk forming on his face. “So, naturally, I called her Romana.”
“Naturally,” Martha said dryly. As far as she was concerned, contrariness and stubbornness seemed to be the hallmarks of the Doctor’s species, not to mention arrogance and hubris... “Have you any idea how she survived - the Time War, I mean?”
The Doctor sighed, his hand automatically going for a Marietta as he slumped back into the couch. “Not a clue,” he admitted. “Romana was never one to back down from a fight, and she was very determined to be there ‘til the end…part of the job, as far as she was concerned.”
“The job?” Martha ventured carefully, afraid he might clam up.
“She was our President.”
“President…” Martha took a breath. “That’s a big job description.”
“Yeah, suppose,” he muttered, pulling at his ear. “This makes no sense, though… I mean, she’d have to have been already in the Alternative Reality Graviton Regulator Arch when it happened…” His eyes lit up. “Leela, of course, makes perfect sense!”
“What makes perfect sense?” Martha asked puzzled. “And who is Leela?”
“An old companion, you’d have liked her,” the Doctor said. “Very proactive, she was… she was Romana’s personal bodyguard, too. Wouldn’t put it past her to pull off a stunt like this. She took the job of keeping Romana alive very seriously.” He jumped to his feet. “Come on, I’ve an idea,” he grabbed her hand, and pulled her towards her bedroom.
“Doctor,” she said gently. “I can’t.”
He paused, then looked slightly bashful. “Sorry, forgot,” he said. “Well…I’ll be off, then.”
Martha leaned against the doorjamb of her bedroom as he opened the TARDIS. “Remember to come back and tell me how it worked out,” she said.
He threw her smile; it almost looked real. “You won’t even notice I was gone.”
Martha watched the TARDIS slowly fade away. For a Time Lord, he could be ridiculously stupid, sometimes. She always noticed when he was gone.
She always would, she suspected.
FINIS
And the next story in this series is Hoist the Sails