prompt response: theatrical_muse 311 - thank someone for something
(follows this fic)
They're on the rooftop, looking at Cardiff spread out before them, shimmering veins of lights tracing the motorways and streetlights and signs illuminating the Welsh night. The wind tugs at the hems of their coats; Jack's flares behind him like a cape. Martha's is sensible and modern and zips all the way down to the hem at her knees. (It might be a thigh-length coat on someone else, but it's knee-length on Martha, and she likes it.)
"Bit different to London," she comments, her breath puffing out in front of her like frosty punctuation marks.
"You'll get used to it," Jack replies. "It's not what I grew up with, either - but it's got its own charm. Welsh charm."
Martha thinks something snarky about Welsh charm and Jack and Ianto, but doesn't say it. "You've really been here for a hundred and fifty years, then?" She eyes him in the dim light that reaches them from the rest of the city. "You don't look a day over a hundred and twenty."
"I use a lot of moisturiser," Jack says with a straight face.
"I expect you bathe in it, then." Martha falls silent for a long moment. It's been, well, strange joining Torchwood. She suspects that she's rather superfluous - a team of six doesn't need two medical officers - and that Jack gave her the job out of pity. She wonders what it says about her that she took it.
"Owen's not bad, really, once you get used to him." Jack has this uncanny way of telling what she's thinking about. "Just a bit territorial, it seems.
"A bit?" After a single attempt at flirting with her, Owen's attitude changed to downright hostile towards his junior medical officer. Martha, therefore, tries to stay as far away from him as possible - God only knows what Tosh sees in him, 'cos she sure as hell doesn't. "Jack, I'm pretty sure he was threatening me with a laser scalpel if I did so much as check someone's vitals. Now, I'm not telling you how to do your job or anything, but you may want to send him to a seminar on teamwork. Or, better yet, something on not being a massive dick."
"He needs a good shrink, just like the rest of us." Jack folds his arms over his chest. "That's the thing about Torchwood, Martha. We don't fit anywhere else. You aren't the only one who's had a hard go of it."
"Except for Gwen." Who apparently abandoned a perfectly good career and a normal life to join Torchwood of her own free will; Martha isn't sure if this hints at some deeper mental illness. She quite likes Gwen, though - the two of them have fallen into the habit of gossiping over coffee like two old friends.
"Yeah, well, Gwen's here to remind us what it's like to be normal. I think I lost track of that somewhere around my fifth death or so."
"Japan," Martha says quietly, looking down at her hands.
Jack looks over at her, concern showing on his face. "You still dream about it, don't you?"
"All of it." Her shoulders slump in defeat. "From the beginning to the end." The only thing she doesn't dream about is killing the Master. She still doesn't feel any remorse for it - when she's lying awake in the darkness, she wonders why there's an emotional blank space there, if feeling so numb about it makes her some sort of monster. Maybe that's why-
She forces the thought out of her head. "It's all right if I go back home next weekend, yeah?" Weekends are nominally time off, except that Torchwood never really gets time off. If she goes to London, though, she won't even be on call in case of emergencies.
"I think Owen might be able to manage on his own," Jack says sarcastically. "Going to check up on your family then? How've they been doing?"
Martha shakes her head. "Not much better. Especially Tish - Mum and Dad seem like they're starting to recover, but Tish is just...trapped inside herself. She won't talk to the rest of us about it, and she barely leaves her room anymore. I just...I wish they could get help, you know?" She hunches in on herself thinking about it - she wishes there was more she could do, but she's not a psychologist, not by a long shot, and when it comes down to it, she's just as broken as the rest of them.
Without saying anything, Jack pulls her into a one-armed embrace, holding her close to his chest and sheltering her from the bite of the wind. "You're still just one person, Martha," he says quietly. "Nobody can blame you for what you can't do, not when you're doing all you can for all of us." They've stayed late in the Hub with cups of coffee more than once, just talking - or sitting together in companiable silence. Tonight's one of those nights - they'd decided to come up to the roof for a bit of fresh air.
"Yeah, but..." It's all my fault, Martha wants to say. Her fault that her family isn't getting better. Her fault that the Doctor left. Her fault for showing the Master the fobwatch in the first place. Some people count sheep to fall asleep at night. Martha counts the list of her sins.
"But nothing." Jack rests his chin on the top of her head. "Do you ever worry about yourself, Martha Jones?"
Of course not, she thinks. I don't have time to. She doesn't say anything, but her silence answers Jack's question just as well as any words could. She's been busy taking care of her family since her parents split up, trying to make her way through med school, and then there was the Doctor, and now she spends all her time either working or trying to help her mum and dad from a distance. That's just how life is - Martha's always put everybody else before herself. It's not that she doesn't deserve it, it's just that they all need it more.
And, what's more, she's still got to atone for leaving them. Leaving them to travel with the Doctor, leaving them with the Master, and then afterwards, and now to join Torchwood. It seems like ever since she met the Doctor, Martha's done nothing but make the wrong decisions.
But Jack - he's been there for all of it, quietly supporting her whenever she falters. He knows how she feels, sometimes better than she does. He doesn't mind it when she goes quiet, as she's wont to do more often these days.
"That's what I have you for," she says finally, and tilts her chin up, smiling at him - a real, genuine smile, the sort not on her face too often these days.
"Someone's got to, or else you'd worry yourself to death," Jack tells her, only half-joking. He kisses her gently on her forehead, just at the edge of her hairline - Jack's more physical than most people, and moments like this are typical of their friendship.
"Still, you know, thanks. For everything." For all the things Martha can't bring herself to voice, and those she can. Because sometimes, it seems like Jack's the only person who hasn't abandoned her.
Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Words: 1228
They're on the rooftop, looking at Cardiff spread out before them, shimmering veins of lights tracing the motorways and streetlights and signs illuminating the Welsh night. The wind tugs at the hems of their coats; Jack's flares behind him like a cape. Martha's is sensible and modern and zips all the way down to the hem at her knees. (It might be a thigh-length coat on someone else, but it's knee-length on Martha, and she likes it.)
"Bit different to London," she comments, her breath puffing out in front of her like frosty punctuation marks.
"You'll get used to it," Jack replies. "It's not what I grew up with, either - but it's got its own charm. Welsh charm."
Martha thinks something snarky about Welsh charm and Jack and Ianto, but doesn't say it. "You've really been here for a hundred and fifty years, then?" She eyes him in the dim light that reaches them from the rest of the city. "You don't look a day over a hundred and twenty."
"I use a lot of moisturiser," Jack says with a straight face.
"I expect you bathe in it, then." Martha falls silent for a long moment. It's been, well, strange joining Torchwood. She suspects that she's rather superfluous - a team of six doesn't need two medical officers - and that Jack gave her the job out of pity. She wonders what it says about her that she took it.
"Owen's not bad, really, once you get used to him." Jack has this uncanny way of telling what she's thinking about. "Just a bit territorial, it seems.
"A bit?" After a single attempt at flirting with her, Owen's attitude changed to downright hostile towards his junior medical officer. Martha, therefore, tries to stay as far away from him as possible - God only knows what Tosh sees in him, 'cos she sure as hell doesn't. "Jack, I'm pretty sure he was threatening me with a laser scalpel if I did so much as check someone's vitals. Now, I'm not telling you how to do your job or anything, but you may want to send him to a seminar on teamwork. Or, better yet, something on not being a massive dick."
"He needs a good shrink, just like the rest of us." Jack folds his arms over his chest. "That's the thing about Torchwood, Martha. We don't fit anywhere else. You aren't the only one who's had a hard go of it."
"Except for Gwen." Who apparently abandoned a perfectly good career and a normal life to join Torchwood of her own free will; Martha isn't sure if this hints at some deeper mental illness. She quite likes Gwen, though - the two of them have fallen into the habit of gossiping over coffee like two old friends.
"Yeah, well, Gwen's here to remind us what it's like to be normal. I think I lost track of that somewhere around my fifth death or so."
"Japan," Martha says quietly, looking down at her hands.
Jack looks over at her, concern showing on his face. "You still dream about it, don't you?"
"All of it." Her shoulders slump in defeat. "From the beginning to the end." The only thing she doesn't dream about is killing the Master. She still doesn't feel any remorse for it - when she's lying awake in the darkness, she wonders why there's an emotional blank space there, if feeling so numb about it makes her some sort of monster. Maybe that's why-
She forces the thought out of her head. "It's all right if I go back home next weekend, yeah?" Weekends are nominally time off, except that Torchwood never really gets time off. If she goes to London, though, she won't even be on call in case of emergencies.
"I think Owen might be able to manage on his own," Jack says sarcastically. "Going to check up on your family then? How've they been doing?"
Martha shakes her head. "Not much better. Especially Tish - Mum and Dad seem like they're starting to recover, but Tish is just...trapped inside herself. She won't talk to the rest of us about it, and she barely leaves her room anymore. I just...I wish they could get help, you know?" She hunches in on herself thinking about it - she wishes there was more she could do, but she's not a psychologist, not by a long shot, and when it comes down to it, she's just as broken as the rest of them.
Without saying anything, Jack pulls her into a one-armed embrace, holding her close to his chest and sheltering her from the bite of the wind. "You're still just one person, Martha," he says quietly. "Nobody can blame you for what you can't do, not when you're doing all you can for all of us." They've stayed late in the Hub with cups of coffee more than once, just talking - or sitting together in companiable silence. Tonight's one of those nights - they'd decided to come up to the roof for a bit of fresh air.
"Yeah, but..." It's all my fault, Martha wants to say. Her fault that her family isn't getting better. Her fault that the Doctor left. Her fault for showing the Master the fobwatch in the first place. Some people count sheep to fall asleep at night. Martha counts the list of her sins.
"But nothing." Jack rests his chin on the top of her head. "Do you ever worry about yourself, Martha Jones?"
Of course not, she thinks. I don't have time to. She doesn't say anything, but her silence answers Jack's question just as well as any words could. She's been busy taking care of her family since her parents split up, trying to make her way through med school, and then there was the Doctor, and now she spends all her time either working or trying to help her mum and dad from a distance. That's just how life is - Martha's always put everybody else before herself. It's not that she doesn't deserve it, it's just that they all need it more.
And, what's more, she's still got to atone for leaving them. Leaving them to travel with the Doctor, leaving them with the Master, and then afterwards, and now to join Torchwood. It seems like ever since she met the Doctor, Martha's done nothing but make the wrong decisions.
But Jack - he's been there for all of it, quietly supporting her whenever she falters. He knows how she feels, sometimes better than she does. He doesn't mind it when she goes quiet, as she's wont to do more often these days.
"That's what I have you for," she says finally, and tilts her chin up, smiling at him - a real, genuine smile, the sort not on her face too often these days.
"Someone's got to, or else you'd worry yourself to death," Jack tells her, only half-joking. He kisses her gently on her forehead, just at the edge of her hairline - Jack's more physical than most people, and moments like this are typical of their friendship.
"Still, you know, thanks. For everything." For all the things Martha can't bring herself to voice, and those she can. Because sometimes, it seems like Jack's the only person who hasn't abandoned her.
Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Words: 1228