7 Deadly Sins - Too Late: Wrath
Title: Too Late
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: The Doctor/Martha Jones
Prompt: # 03 - Wrath
Word Count: 2'330
Rating: R
Summary: His apology came too late. Her patience was all but spent. The Powers That Be felt she deserved a chance to show him that ignorance must never go unpunished. Very AU. We’re talking ‘hints of an evil Martha’ AU, too …
Disclaimer: I don’t own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.
Author's Notes: No 3 in my 7 Deadly Sins Series. Set after ‘Family of Blood’. Rating for language … This is a bit different to how I normally write, so let’s just see where the wind takes me … fingers crossed it isn't too much of a disaster ...
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Too Late
“I’m sorry, Martha,” he murmured finally, watching her almost warily as she stood with her back to him, staring mutely out over the wide expanse of open water ahead of her.
She held her tongue, expression completely devoid of emotion as she curled her toes into the cold, wet sand and wrapped two shivering arms around her chest in a vain attempt to procure warmth.
His apology meant nothing.
They were words, that was all. Empty words.
And the only words that seemed to mean anything at all to her were the ones that had caused her entire being to become totally and utterly numb.
“This is … well, it translates as Bad Wolf Bay … and it’s the last place I ever saw her.”
No. She didn’t want to know, he knew that much, but it was too late to take the words back. He’d already said them. And she couldn’t simply pretend he hadn’t because the words were echoing around her head with a vengeance, leaving her too unfeeling to try and stop them, too unfeeling to do anything
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, a greater sense of urgency leaking into his voice this time. He stared at her sadly, noting the tremors that were overcoming her stubborn stance, and took an anxious step closer, silently willing for her to understand his motives. “I just … you wanted to know what I was thinking about, and I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t find words enough to describe it. So I thought … maybe showing you instead … well, you might have understood better.”
Martha shrugged apathetically, eyes still resolutely focussed upon the lapping waves before her.
“You ignored me for so long,” she whispered finally, words almost carried away on the wind, “that I thought I’d done something wrong. I thought I’d broken your trust, broken our friendship, when I asked it of you before. But all that time … all that time you were avoiding me, you were just thinking about her!”
The Doctor shook his head so hard his neck cracked. Rubbing it absently, he reached out a hand to her, but then decided against it and let it fall to his side again.
“Martha, you know that’s not true,” he said sharply, astounded that she was taking the situation so personally. He’d brought her here hoping she’d understand, hoping to show her why he wasn’t quite himself these days, and yet all it had done was apparently clarify in her mind that he thought more highly of her predecessor than he did of her.
“Isn’t it?”
She rounded on him at last, her eyes glistening with tears that she simply refused to let fall. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She wouldn’t be weak. She couldn’t. Curling her hands into fists, she brushed angrily at her fringe and couldn’t bite back a dark little laugh as she spotted the hurt in his eyes. “You ignore me for a week, barricading yourself in your room and completely neglecting not just me, but the TARDIS, too. You don’t show your face again, not once - I don’t see you for a week, damnit, - and when you finally do resurface, the first place you run to is the one place that connects you and Rose Tyler! So explain it to me, Doctor, please, because I’m trying so hard to understand, here.”
He could sense her anger growing by the second, see it inching ever closer to its boundaries, prepared to fall full-pelt over that metaphorical waterfall. But he couldn’t deny that she had reasons to feel neglected, reasons to feel incredibly pissed off with him. But what she didn't understand was that he’d been so confused, his thoughts so mixed up ever since she’d asked about Rose a week prior. And it worried him … no, it terrified him that every time he saw her after their discussion about Rose Tyler, every time he looked at her, he was seeing somebody else.
Yes, he’d been avoiding her, but only to avoid seeing Rose again. He couldn’t understand it himself, how Martha was slowly but surely worming her way into his hearts, into a place that he thought had died when Rose ‘died’. Yet she was accomplishing the impossible … or at least she had been until she’d taken this visit the wrong way. Rose and Martha … it was all so confusing! Feelings he’d thought belonged to Rose and Rose alone were suddenly sprouting for Martha … and it was terrifying, just how similar those feelings actually were. Seeing Rose in her had helped him to make sense of it all- he felt more comfortable associating such feelings with Rose, which was probably why every time he saw Martha, he saw that little bit of Rose, at the same time …
Even in his own head the excuse was ridiculously lame. It was so hard to make sense of that he thought it pointless to try and argue his point to Martha. She wouldn’t have listened, anyway.
He’d thought she’d understand why he found it so hard to talk about Rose if she could experience the kinds of feelings associated with her, and what better place to show Martha that than the last place they’d been together? In a way, he’d also hoped that seeing Bad Wolf Bay again might have helped him to move on properly, so he could focus more on the companion of the present, rather than the companions of the past … but no. Martha hadn’t seen those motives.
And now, it seemed, blind jealousy was clouding her judgement. Blind jealousy … that bitch was going to ruin everything for him, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Shaking his head and dropping his gaze to inspect the infinitesimal specks of sand beneath his feet, he sighed heavily and tried to ignore the penetrating glare that was burning a hole into his skull.
But that was the wrong move to make, and again, he’d gone and realised it too late.
“You’re doin’ it again …” she whispered darkly, eyes narrowed slits now. “You’re ignoring me again.”
Blinking quickly, he glanced up and shook his head.
“No, no I’m not, I just can’t answer your question. I don’t know what to say. I’ve tried to explain why I brought you here but you don’t want to listen.”
“So it’s my fault, now,” she stated bluntly, folding her arms across her chest, a dark scowl on her face that the Doctor never wanted to see there again. It was so cold, so cruel, so … inhuman …
And so were the glowing ruby-red eyes.
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” she said at last, voice eerily calm now as she stared him down, the intensity of her blood-red irises leaving scarlet imprints on his vision. “I’m sorry it’s come to this. But it’s your own fault, and I think you understand that.”
Bewildered, he took an anxious step backwards as she raised her arms into the air, palms outstretched and expression one of composed determination.
“What is it?” he asked when he finally found his voice, eyes wide and hearts racing as he stared at her in complete confusion. Why had everything spiralled so far out of control in such a short space of time? Why were they even having this argument ?! … And what the Hell was she doing ?!
Suddenly he wished he’d never asked.
He’d always believed in the impossible - had revelled in it, had loved conquering it and had relished the feelings of achievement and accomplishment that accompanied proving people wrong.
But at that moment, he’d never been more of a believer in his entire life. In any of them, in fact.
Clouds above his head were gathering, swirling angrily as blacks and greys mingled with the white fluffy ones that had been there before, consuming the calmness and devouring the softness, leaving nothing but a blanket of darkness to fall over the entire bay. The waters beside them were churning with renewed vigour, waves rearing high up before powerfully crashing back down onto the sand. That itself was blowing about around them, a typhoon, almost, careering around the Doctor and Martha cyclone-style even as he watched.
But the look in her eyes soon grabbed his attention again. Never mind the unnatural weather patterns - it was the darkness that appeared to have fallen over her soul that was worrying him the most.
And that worry turned to downright fear as she finally dropped her arms, scarlet gaze boring unblinkingly into his. Her expression vacant and unforgiving, she smiled an eerie, unnatural smile, then flicked her wrists almost absent-mindedly in his direction, one eyebrow raising expectantly.
“Mother Nature agrees, Doctor,” she called out over the din of the rising winds and the roaring sea and the pounding rain, - her voice almost robotic - as the subtle movement of her hands sent sand, rain and half of what had been a previously calm ocean flying straight for him. Turning to her, staring helplessly at her as she smiled that unsympathetic,’ un-Martha’ish smile, she was the last thing he saw, and hers were the last words he heard, before the roar and power of the onslaught overwhelmed him.
“Mother Nature agrees that ignorance must never go unpunished.”
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For a few frantic seconds as he bolted upright, the Doctor could almost feel the icy spray freezing his skin as the waves completely swallowed him. He felt the sand tearing into exposed flesh and tasted the saltiness of the rain upon his tongue. After a few moments, common sense took over and everything was calm, once again.
But the darkness in her eyes, the shadow upon her face … they were a different matter entirely. They’d been burned into his vision, a look so …so wrong, so out of place on her usually interested, excited features that he knew it would be imprinted in his mind for the rest of his life.
Panting a little, he ran a hand anxiously over his face and swung his legs around, jumping shakily from the Captain’s chair and landing unsteadily, having to lean against the Console to keep himself upright.
That … dream ?! Was it a dream? Whatever it was, he’d never been so afraid in his life. Running a hand through his hair in distress, he shook his head like a dog would to rid its ears of water and straightened up, heart-rates slowly but surely returning to normal.
“A dream,” he murmured to himself, hardly daring to believe it, the phrase tentatively leaving his lips as though afraid even whispering the words would somehow make it become reality. “Of course it was. Martha doesn’t have supernatural powers, and you promised yourself you’d never set foot on that beach again as long as you lived.”
Reasoning.
He loved it. His ability to reason with himself had saved him a great deal of heart-ache in the past, and here it was again, convincing him that he wasn’t losing his marbles.
Gradually regaining his composure, he shrugged away the last of his worries just in time to hear steady footsteps growing louder and louder as Martha approached from beyond the TARDIS’ internal door.
Plastering a convincing look of total serenity onto his face, he smiled warmly, shook his head one last time and tried to remind himself that Martha Jones did not have red eyes and could not manipulate the elements.
Nevertheless, a flash of the 'dream-Martha' seemed to leak into his mind as she finally stepped over the threshold and strode anxiously towards him, expression one of mild concern and curiosity.
Wearing the same outfit he’d seen her wearing at Bad Wolf Bay … hair pulled back into a tight, neat pony-tail, a worn-looking pair of faded jeans clinging to her curved hips so perfectly that they appeared to have moulded to her skin, an ebony-coloured shirt buttoned to a point where the tiniest amount was made visible at the bust …
His breath caught in his throat, and a cold chill danced playfully down his spine as she perched herself precariously on the edge of the Captain’s chair, her dark eyes wide and curious as she stared at him expectantly, a frown just skimming across her lips, as though she was daring herself to say something but was worried about how he would take it.
“Doctor,” she started, avoiding his gaze. She paused, and his hearts appeared to have worked themselves into a nervous frenzy. Trying to pretend that they weren’t beating a thousand beats a second beneath his rib cage, he waited for her to continue, leaning against the railing and staring at her intently, silently willing her to not say what he thought was about to come. “ … I was just wondering if … if I could ask you something.”
‘Don't say it, don't say it don't say it!’ he thought anxiously, unconsciously biting his lip and turning away, eyes jammed tight shut as he clenched his fists in his pockets.
She paused, the words on the tip of her tongue but her mind trying to keep them from escaping. After a few furious seconds of internal battling, she shrugged to herself. ‘Ahh, what the Hell,’ she thought, her curiosity winning out over her anxiety about the consequences she could probably expect from this. Sucking in a deep breath, she turned to stare at the column as it rose and fell, humming melodically in the background.
“I was wondering if you'd tell me about … Rose Tyler …”
The Doctor turned to her, arms hanging limply by his sides and a flash of those gleaming, evil red-eyes momentarily consuming his vision. He noticed her sitting there, avoiding his gaze, her question obviously innocent enough in her mind ... And only one thought came to mind as the words reverberated around his head, again and again and again.
‘Oh, dear. You said it.’
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7 Deadly Sins Table