Doctor Who fic: The Other Side of the World (23/31)
Title: The Other Side of the World (23/31)
Rating: PG
Characters: Rose, Martha
Timeline: Season three
Summary: Season three AU; After a fateful visit to Royal Hope Hospital, Rose finds herself lost in time and space with medical student Martha Jones. As they struggle to find a way home, they meet old friends, and old enemies, along the way...
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. Any borrowed dialogue belongs to Russell T Davies and the BBC.
A/N: A sequel to "The Other Side". It's not necessary reading; it just sets up the premise that it was the Doctor who was trapped in Pete's World, not Rose. And a shout-out to my awesome betas: joking and quean_of_swords. This story wouldn't have been posted without you guys.
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Ten. Chapter Eleven. Chapter Twelve. Chapter Thirteen. Chapter Fourteen. Chapter Fifteen. Chapter Sixteen. Chapter Seventeen. Chapter Eighteen. Chapter Nineteen. Chapter Twenty. Chapter Twenty-One. Chapter Twenty-Two.
With each swell of the waves more cold water was dumped into the meagre confines of the boat. Martha’s feet already felt like blocks of ice but she chose to ignore her discomfort and instead focused on bailing out as much of the water as she could. Slowing the speed of the boat would have helped to keep them dry and afloat, but doing so now would have meant certain death.
Martha paused to catch her breath and in a quick glance she took stock of their situation. At the front of the boat, Tosh sat hunched over her faithful laptop, fiddling with a box of wires like she was sitting at a lab bench rather than being pounded by the waves on a boat. Owen sat next to her, acting as a shield against the malicious water, ensuring none of the delicate technology got a good soaking. He gripped the edge of the boat with one hand while in the other he clutched a gun. The weapon was pointed over Martha’s head, and though she couldn’t see any sign of their pursuers, that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
She looked to the navigator of the craft, who was coaxing all he could from the engine propped on the back of the boat. His gaze was trained on the coast, steadily growing closer with each passing second. In a few more minutes, they would be on solid ground once more.
A few more minutes and they would be back in Great Britain.
Martha filled another bucket full of water and threw the contents over the side of the boat. Her hands were growing numb, but it was hardly any worse than the time she had to cross the Alps wearing just military fatigues. She thought she might lose her fingers then.
The prow of the boat crashed hard into an errant wave and Martha quickly lost her balance. She fell forward into the icy water that filled the bottom of the boat and the sudden change in temperature was a shock to her system. A surprised gasp escaped her lips and she nearly swallowed a mouthful of salty ocean. Though she was quick to pull herself up, Martha was already soaked.
She turned, asking if everyone else was all right, when she heard a dreadfully familiar sound. It was like a car was passing by, but they were nowhere near a motorway.
Bursting forth from the darkness, two Toclafane took aim at the boat, the telltale spikes at the bottom of the sphere primed to kill. Within a heartbeat, Martha forgot all about the numbness of her hands and the soggy weight of her clothes. She and the others were dead if they didn’t act fast.
“Tosh!” Martha kept her attention on the Toclafane, as though she could keep the spheres at bay by thought alone.
The box of wires, their one defence against the Toclafane, rattled in Tosh’s hands. “Power drain! They can see us!”
Something similar had occurred in Brazil, but they had been on land when it happened and surrounded by dense jungle. Taking cover here wasn’t an option.
“Jump.” At first, Martha thought she misheard their navigator but when she glanced over at him, he was deadly serious. “Jump!” he repeated and he pulled out a gun from the depths of his coat.
There was no time to argue. Martha snatched up her backpack and then she jumped over the side of the boat into the freezing waters. The sudden cold was like a kick to the chest and she fought to keep her head above the surface. Thankfully, the task was made monumentally easier by the fact that they were only a few yards out from the shore. The water hit Martha in the chest, but went no higher.
Two additional splashes told her that Tosh and Owen had made it overboard as well. As Martha struggled towards the shore, she looked back. Tosh had less success staying above the surface and her black locks were plastered to her head. Beside her, with his extra inch of height a sudden boon, Owen had his arms raised above his head, Tosh’s laptop and the box of wires clutched in each hand. His stance reminded Martha of a soldier trudging through a river when his gun raised over his head to keep the weapon out of the water.
Gunfire echoed across the night. The retreating shape of the boat was already disappearing into the gloom, but Martha could just make out the form of their navigator. He continued to fire his gun, drawing the Toclafane away. She could only watch as two red bolts of laser fire flew through the air, striking him dead in the back. The boat continued to speed on into the night, a pile of ashes its only passenger.
Martha’s legs seized up, but not from the cold. It was doubtful they would have made it across the Atlantic if it hadn’t been for their navigator and his crew of sailors.
She motioned for Owen and Tosh to stop. The waves broke around them, still eager to swallow them up. In the night sky, the two Toclafane hovered in circles, like vultures circling a potential meal. No one dared to speak.
The cold waters seemed to penetrate every cell of Martha’s body. She was shivering so hard her entire body ached. The chattering of her teeth sounded impossibly loud to her ears and she wondered if such a small thing would give them away. Owen’s arms dropped noticeably, bringing Tosh’s equipment closer to the ocean.
The two Toclafane stopped their circling, hovering right over where Martha and the others stood. With no eyes, it was difficult to tell what the spheres were looking at.
The silence of the night was shattered by a child-like voice. “Ready or not, here we come!” From the night sky, the two Toclafane descended.
Her first instinct was to run, but Martha knew they wouldn’t make it very far, chest deep in water. Even if they made it to the shore, there was nowhere to hide and they had no weapons to fight back with that weren’t waterlogged or on the brink of failure. Drowning themselves seemed like the only alternative.
A bolt of lightning flashed over Martha’s head, striking the first Toclafane before it could deliver a blow. The white hot tendrils raced around the sphere, causing it to shift and shudder as though it was in the throes of an epileptic fit. The other Toclafane came to an abrupt halt mid-flight, like it was enthralled by the spectacle.
The energy containing the Toclafane dissipated with a slight crackle and the sphere plunged into the ocean, a harmless metal ball. The loud splash roused Martha from her surprise and she looked to the shore, from where the lightning had originated.
The remaining Toclafane had a similar idea and it was already zooming towards land when Martha noticed what had caused the lightning.
The woman raised her weapon, a silvery looking gun that was probably the same length as Martha’s arm, and another bolt of lightning exploded from the barrel. It didn’t seem to matter if the woman’s aim was dead on or not. The energy sought out the Toclafane, like it was drawn to the metal casing. The moment the deadly electricity wrapped around the sphere, the Toclafane was brought to a dead halt in the air. As it juddered violently, Martha and the others continued their trek towards land. The sphere hit the ground just as they were coming out of the water.
With the water lapping around her ankles, Martha collapsed onto her knees. After fighting the strength of the waves, her legs felt like jelly and she could barely keep herself upright. She sank into the sand and tried to catch her breath. Owen collapsed outright on the beach, Tosh’s equipment coming to rest on his chest. Tosh herself sat down next to Owen and she gripped his hand in her own.
The woman approached them, the gun dangling at her side now that the threat had passed. She crouched down in front of Martha, her gaze quickly roving over the three of them for any injury. Now that they were face to face, Martha noted the woman was older, perhaps in her late fifties, but there was a youthful spark in her eyes. At the same time, a weary air surrounded the woman, like she had seen much in her time but not all of her experiences had been enjoyable.
“Martha Jones.” The woman sounded relieved that they appeared unharmed, but there was a hint of joy in her voice as well. Wandering the Earth as much as she had, Martha had heard that tone more than enough times whenever her name was spoken.
While the woman’s appearance wasn’t familiar to Martha, her voice was, and she was just as grateful to meet her. “Sarah Jane Smith.” Her words were nearly unintelligible she was shivering so hard.
Sarah Jane helped Martha to her feet, the time for marvelling over. “I have a vehicle waiting. You can all warm up inside.”
It was slow going, but they all managed to stagger to their feet, the prospect of warmth a powerful motivator. Before they left the beach, Tosh picked up the inactive Toclafane, casually stowing it in her bag like she had just picked up a football.
As they walked up the bluff to Sarah Jane’s vehicle, Martha breathed deeply, the cold air burning her lungs. Finally, after a year of travel, she was home.
It was time to take down the Master.
From the bridge of the Valiant, Rose watched as the sun broke through the clouds, dawning on a new day. Had she been on the ground, she would have seen the sun peek up over the horizon, causing shadows to grow longer. But she hadn’t stepped foot on the earth in the last year or breathed in any fresh air.
She was a prisoner in a gilded cage.
While everyone else on the planet suffered through work camps and squalid living conditions, she lived like royalty aboard the airship. Fine clothes, fine food; every luxury she could want at her fingertips, except freedom. It was the nature of her captivity slapped in her face, just another way the Master liked to torture her. He could kill Jack over and over or starve Gwen and Ianto, but he never laid a hand against her. It was all a game between them, to see who could outwit whom.
If they had kept a tally, the score would have been in the Master’s favour. He didn’t have all the power but he had all the resources. Rose and the others had done their best to hamper his plans but with such a small crew on board they were always found out.
Though she couldn’t see it, down below, beyond the cloud cover, was Great Britain. The navigational computer to her right clearly displayed an image of her home country and just seeing a picture was enough to make her homesick. She hadn’t left much behind in London, but after spending over two years in the Master’s company she longed to be among the familiar.
She didn’t hear him approach she was so wrapped up in her thoughts and her whole body stiffened when he touched her on her left shoulder. The silk dress she wore left her shoulders bare and she could feel the heat of the Master’s skin against her own. Rose tried to manoeuvre out of his hold, but his grip became vice like around her shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Two Toclafane flew by the bridge window, their movement silenced by the thick glass. “The atmosphere is the same over the entire planet, but this feels different, doesn’t it?”
Rose continued to stare at the clouds. “What are we doing here?”
The Master spun her around so she faced him. He placed on his hands on either side of her on the console, effectively pinning her to that spot. Only a few inches separated them. She forced herself to look into his eyes and not avoid his gaze. “We’re out of milk. English bovine tastes the best.”
She suddenly dreaded their return. The Master never did anything without a reason. They weren’t back in England on a whim. In that moment, she wished they were somewhere else.
The Master smiled at her, as if reading her thoughts. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his laser screwdriver. The head of the screwdriver snapped into place with a metallic clang, the tip hovering just under Rose’s chin. She had seen what damage the weapon could do more than enough times and it took all of her self-control not to look away or flinch.
The Master casually aimed the screwdriver over his shoulder and though the tip lit up, there was no yellow laser fire. Instead, music began to pour out of the speakers on the bridge. Not classical music, but modern pop, something Rose herself would have listened to if she had bothered to keep up with the latest releases.
It’s not easy having yourself a good time/Greasing up those bets and betters/Watching out they don’t four-letter…
Stowing the laser screwdriver in his pocket, the Master pulled Rose close, putting his left hand on the small of her back while his right hand took up her left. Too surprised by his sudden change of tactics, Rose didn’t fight back right away and unexpectedly they began dancing to the music along the upper section of the bridge.
The last time she had danced with a man, it had been with the Doctor.
Singing along with the music, the Master spun Rose around and she tried not to trip over her own feet. “I’m not a gangster tonight/Don’t want to be a bad guy/I’m just a loner baby/And now you’re gotten in my way…”
The chorus kicked in and he slammed her back against the railing. It hit her in the lower back, but it didn’t hurt.
I can’t decide/Whether you should live or die/Oh, you’ll probably go to heaven/Please don’t hang your head and cry…
The Master leaned in, dangerously close. Rose felt the light touch of his breath against her skin. “No wonder why/My heart feels dead inside/It’s cold and hard and petrified/Lock the doors and close the blinds/We’re going for a ride…”
For one terrible second she thought he was going to kiss her and a tiny part of her would have almost welcomed it. He was a sadistic murderer but she had been cut off from the world for so long. She needed to feel something to remind her that she was still human. She felt the pull of his hypnotic gaze but he didn’t force his will on her.
The Master just smiled and he bent forwards to whisper in her ear. “Too bad he isn’t here to save you.” He let go of her, the sudden absence of his presence setting her off balance.
The song continued to play as the Master turned and walked away. Rose gripped the railing tightly, her heart hammering in her chest.
Rating: PG
Characters: Rose, Martha
Timeline: Season three
Summary: Season three AU; After a fateful visit to Royal Hope Hospital, Rose finds herself lost in time and space with medical student Martha Jones. As they struggle to find a way home, they meet old friends, and old enemies, along the way...
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. Any borrowed dialogue belongs to Russell T Davies and the BBC.
A/N: A sequel to "The Other Side". It's not necessary reading; it just sets up the premise that it was the Doctor who was trapped in Pete's World, not Rose. And a shout-out to my awesome betas: joking and quean_of_swords. This story wouldn't have been posted without you guys.
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Ten. Chapter Eleven. Chapter Twelve. Chapter Thirteen. Chapter Fourteen. Chapter Fifteen. Chapter Sixteen. Chapter Seventeen. Chapter Eighteen. Chapter Nineteen. Chapter Twenty. Chapter Twenty-One. Chapter Twenty-Two.
With each swell of the waves more cold water was dumped into the meagre confines of the boat. Martha’s feet already felt like blocks of ice but she chose to ignore her discomfort and instead focused on bailing out as much of the water as she could. Slowing the speed of the boat would have helped to keep them dry and afloat, but doing so now would have meant certain death.
Martha paused to catch her breath and in a quick glance she took stock of their situation. At the front of the boat, Tosh sat hunched over her faithful laptop, fiddling with a box of wires like she was sitting at a lab bench rather than being pounded by the waves on a boat. Owen sat next to her, acting as a shield against the malicious water, ensuring none of the delicate technology got a good soaking. He gripped the edge of the boat with one hand while in the other he clutched a gun. The weapon was pointed over Martha’s head, and though she couldn’t see any sign of their pursuers, that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
She looked to the navigator of the craft, who was coaxing all he could from the engine propped on the back of the boat. His gaze was trained on the coast, steadily growing closer with each passing second. In a few more minutes, they would be on solid ground once more.
A few more minutes and they would be back in Great Britain.
Martha filled another bucket full of water and threw the contents over the side of the boat. Her hands were growing numb, but it was hardly any worse than the time she had to cross the Alps wearing just military fatigues. She thought she might lose her fingers then.
The prow of the boat crashed hard into an errant wave and Martha quickly lost her balance. She fell forward into the icy water that filled the bottom of the boat and the sudden change in temperature was a shock to her system. A surprised gasp escaped her lips and she nearly swallowed a mouthful of salty ocean. Though she was quick to pull herself up, Martha was already soaked.
She turned, asking if everyone else was all right, when she heard a dreadfully familiar sound. It was like a car was passing by, but they were nowhere near a motorway.
Bursting forth from the darkness, two Toclafane took aim at the boat, the telltale spikes at the bottom of the sphere primed to kill. Within a heartbeat, Martha forgot all about the numbness of her hands and the soggy weight of her clothes. She and the others were dead if they didn’t act fast.
“Tosh!” Martha kept her attention on the Toclafane, as though she could keep the spheres at bay by thought alone.
The box of wires, their one defence against the Toclafane, rattled in Tosh’s hands. “Power drain! They can see us!”
Something similar had occurred in Brazil, but they had been on land when it happened and surrounded by dense jungle. Taking cover here wasn’t an option.
“Jump.” At first, Martha thought she misheard their navigator but when she glanced over at him, he was deadly serious. “Jump!” he repeated and he pulled out a gun from the depths of his coat.
There was no time to argue. Martha snatched up her backpack and then she jumped over the side of the boat into the freezing waters. The sudden cold was like a kick to the chest and she fought to keep her head above the surface. Thankfully, the task was made monumentally easier by the fact that they were only a few yards out from the shore. The water hit Martha in the chest, but went no higher.
Two additional splashes told her that Tosh and Owen had made it overboard as well. As Martha struggled towards the shore, she looked back. Tosh had less success staying above the surface and her black locks were plastered to her head. Beside her, with his extra inch of height a sudden boon, Owen had his arms raised above his head, Tosh’s laptop and the box of wires clutched in each hand. His stance reminded Martha of a soldier trudging through a river when his gun raised over his head to keep the weapon out of the water.
Gunfire echoed across the night. The retreating shape of the boat was already disappearing into the gloom, but Martha could just make out the form of their navigator. He continued to fire his gun, drawing the Toclafane away. She could only watch as two red bolts of laser fire flew through the air, striking him dead in the back. The boat continued to speed on into the night, a pile of ashes its only passenger.
Martha’s legs seized up, but not from the cold. It was doubtful they would have made it across the Atlantic if it hadn’t been for their navigator and his crew of sailors.
She motioned for Owen and Tosh to stop. The waves broke around them, still eager to swallow them up. In the night sky, the two Toclafane hovered in circles, like vultures circling a potential meal. No one dared to speak.
The cold waters seemed to penetrate every cell of Martha’s body. She was shivering so hard her entire body ached. The chattering of her teeth sounded impossibly loud to her ears and she wondered if such a small thing would give them away. Owen’s arms dropped noticeably, bringing Tosh’s equipment closer to the ocean.
The two Toclafane stopped their circling, hovering right over where Martha and the others stood. With no eyes, it was difficult to tell what the spheres were looking at.
The silence of the night was shattered by a child-like voice. “Ready or not, here we come!” From the night sky, the two Toclafane descended.
Her first instinct was to run, but Martha knew they wouldn’t make it very far, chest deep in water. Even if they made it to the shore, there was nowhere to hide and they had no weapons to fight back with that weren’t waterlogged or on the brink of failure. Drowning themselves seemed like the only alternative.
A bolt of lightning flashed over Martha’s head, striking the first Toclafane before it could deliver a blow. The white hot tendrils raced around the sphere, causing it to shift and shudder as though it was in the throes of an epileptic fit. The other Toclafane came to an abrupt halt mid-flight, like it was enthralled by the spectacle.
The energy containing the Toclafane dissipated with a slight crackle and the sphere plunged into the ocean, a harmless metal ball. The loud splash roused Martha from her surprise and she looked to the shore, from where the lightning had originated.
The remaining Toclafane had a similar idea and it was already zooming towards land when Martha noticed what had caused the lightning.
The woman raised her weapon, a silvery looking gun that was probably the same length as Martha’s arm, and another bolt of lightning exploded from the barrel. It didn’t seem to matter if the woman’s aim was dead on or not. The energy sought out the Toclafane, like it was drawn to the metal casing. The moment the deadly electricity wrapped around the sphere, the Toclafane was brought to a dead halt in the air. As it juddered violently, Martha and the others continued their trek towards land. The sphere hit the ground just as they were coming out of the water.
With the water lapping around her ankles, Martha collapsed onto her knees. After fighting the strength of the waves, her legs felt like jelly and she could barely keep herself upright. She sank into the sand and tried to catch her breath. Owen collapsed outright on the beach, Tosh’s equipment coming to rest on his chest. Tosh herself sat down next to Owen and she gripped his hand in her own.
The woman approached them, the gun dangling at her side now that the threat had passed. She crouched down in front of Martha, her gaze quickly roving over the three of them for any injury. Now that they were face to face, Martha noted the woman was older, perhaps in her late fifties, but there was a youthful spark in her eyes. At the same time, a weary air surrounded the woman, like she had seen much in her time but not all of her experiences had been enjoyable.
“Martha Jones.” The woman sounded relieved that they appeared unharmed, but there was a hint of joy in her voice as well. Wandering the Earth as much as she had, Martha had heard that tone more than enough times whenever her name was spoken.
While the woman’s appearance wasn’t familiar to Martha, her voice was, and she was just as grateful to meet her. “Sarah Jane Smith.” Her words were nearly unintelligible she was shivering so hard.
Sarah Jane helped Martha to her feet, the time for marvelling over. “I have a vehicle waiting. You can all warm up inside.”
It was slow going, but they all managed to stagger to their feet, the prospect of warmth a powerful motivator. Before they left the beach, Tosh picked up the inactive Toclafane, casually stowing it in her bag like she had just picked up a football.
As they walked up the bluff to Sarah Jane’s vehicle, Martha breathed deeply, the cold air burning her lungs. Finally, after a year of travel, she was home.
It was time to take down the Master.
From the bridge of the Valiant, Rose watched as the sun broke through the clouds, dawning on a new day. Had she been on the ground, she would have seen the sun peek up over the horizon, causing shadows to grow longer. But she hadn’t stepped foot on the earth in the last year or breathed in any fresh air.
She was a prisoner in a gilded cage.
While everyone else on the planet suffered through work camps and squalid living conditions, she lived like royalty aboard the airship. Fine clothes, fine food; every luxury she could want at her fingertips, except freedom. It was the nature of her captivity slapped in her face, just another way the Master liked to torture her. He could kill Jack over and over or starve Gwen and Ianto, but he never laid a hand against her. It was all a game between them, to see who could outwit whom.
If they had kept a tally, the score would have been in the Master’s favour. He didn’t have all the power but he had all the resources. Rose and the others had done their best to hamper his plans but with such a small crew on board they were always found out.
Though she couldn’t see it, down below, beyond the cloud cover, was Great Britain. The navigational computer to her right clearly displayed an image of her home country and just seeing a picture was enough to make her homesick. She hadn’t left much behind in London, but after spending over two years in the Master’s company she longed to be among the familiar.
She didn’t hear him approach she was so wrapped up in her thoughts and her whole body stiffened when he touched her on her left shoulder. The silk dress she wore left her shoulders bare and she could feel the heat of the Master’s skin against her own. Rose tried to manoeuvre out of his hold, but his grip became vice like around her shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Two Toclafane flew by the bridge window, their movement silenced by the thick glass. “The atmosphere is the same over the entire planet, but this feels different, doesn’t it?”
Rose continued to stare at the clouds. “What are we doing here?”
The Master spun her around so she faced him. He placed on his hands on either side of her on the console, effectively pinning her to that spot. Only a few inches separated them. She forced herself to look into his eyes and not avoid his gaze. “We’re out of milk. English bovine tastes the best.”
She suddenly dreaded their return. The Master never did anything without a reason. They weren’t back in England on a whim. In that moment, she wished they were somewhere else.
The Master smiled at her, as if reading her thoughts. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his laser screwdriver. The head of the screwdriver snapped into place with a metallic clang, the tip hovering just under Rose’s chin. She had seen what damage the weapon could do more than enough times and it took all of her self-control not to look away or flinch.
The Master casually aimed the screwdriver over his shoulder and though the tip lit up, there was no yellow laser fire. Instead, music began to pour out of the speakers on the bridge. Not classical music, but modern pop, something Rose herself would have listened to if she had bothered to keep up with the latest releases.
It’s not easy having yourself a good time/Greasing up those bets and betters/Watching out they don’t four-letter…
Stowing the laser screwdriver in his pocket, the Master pulled Rose close, putting his left hand on the small of her back while his right hand took up her left. Too surprised by his sudden change of tactics, Rose didn’t fight back right away and unexpectedly they began dancing to the music along the upper section of the bridge.
The last time she had danced with a man, it had been with the Doctor.
Singing along with the music, the Master spun Rose around and she tried not to trip over her own feet. “I’m not a gangster tonight/Don’t want to be a bad guy/I’m just a loner baby/And now you’re gotten in my way…”
The chorus kicked in and he slammed her back against the railing. It hit her in the lower back, but it didn’t hurt.
I can’t decide/Whether you should live or die/Oh, you’ll probably go to heaven/Please don’t hang your head and cry…
The Master leaned in, dangerously close. Rose felt the light touch of his breath against her skin. “No wonder why/My heart feels dead inside/It’s cold and hard and petrified/Lock the doors and close the blinds/We’re going for a ride…”
For one terrible second she thought he was going to kiss her and a tiny part of her would have almost welcomed it. He was a sadistic murderer but she had been cut off from the world for so long. She needed to feel something to remind her that she was still human. She felt the pull of his hypnotic gaze but he didn’t force his will on her.
The Master just smiled and he bent forwards to whisper in her ear. “Too bad he isn’t here to save you.” He let go of her, the sudden absence of his presence setting her off balance.
The song continued to play as the Master turned and walked away. Rose gripped the railing tightly, her heart hammering in her chest.