Hands
Title: Hands
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Ten friendship
Rating: G
Spoilers: For 4.13 but set post-S4
Summary: The Doctor turns up 2 weeks late for Martha's birthday, and things continue to go downhill.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/136376.html">Hands by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha/Ten friendship | Rating: G | Spoilers: For 4.13 but set post-S4)
Author Notes: This fic is for radiantbaby who recently created a fanmix that included the song Hands by The Raconteurs, these lines of which set off the bunnies:
Girl, you got those hands that heal,
Help me get in touch with what I feel,
'Cause you understand and you sympathise.
~~~~~~
The Doctor was still as Martha ran his Sonic Screwdriver over his right hand in an attempt to find out how much damage he'd suffered.
"Shame you can't grow a new one again," she joked feebly as she clicked off the device. She darted a glance up into his face when he didn't respond, and saw his eyes were shut, beads of sweat standing on his forehead.
"Doctor? Come on, Doctor, stay with me." She lifted up the hand that wasn't cradling his and brushed her fingertips over his forehead.
His eyes opened and he struggled to focus on her face.
"Martha?" he croaked.
"That's me," she said. She tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. "That beast has damaged your capitate, lunate and triquetral bones." She pointed them out to him. "Plus, you've a nasty hole in the middle of your hand." Not that she needed to point that out, given how big it was; she could hardly bear to look at it, but it was impossible to miss.
She glanced up at the Time Lord and saw his eyes had closed again. "Doctor!" She spoke sharply and his eyes opened again, surprise in them, as well as pain. "You need to stay awake," Martha told him, "we have to get back to the TARDIS."
"Can't - " he gasped. "Can't - concentrate."
"You must," she told him firmly. "Come on, on your feet." She put his arm into the makeshift sling she'd fashioned out of his tie and some material she'd torn from the bottom of her t-shirt. Then she stood up and hauled on his left arm until he staggered up to his feet; she wrapped an arm around him and got him walking towards the clearing where the TARDIS had landed an hour earlier.
The forest, which they'd both admired while they'd been walking through it, was quiet and still now, the only sign of the presence of the beast that had attacked them was cradled across the Doctor's chest.
Two hours earlier relative time
"Now then, Dr Jones, I believe you're having a birthday today?" The Doctor grinned down at his former companion, pleased at having surprised her by his sudden appearance in her flat.
"Bloody hell Doctor!" Martha exclaimed, one hand pressed to her heart as she tried to get over her shock. "You've got my number, why didn't you ring and warn me you were coming?" she demanded.
"And spoil the surprise?" he asked, disbelievingly. "Anyway, I thought you might fancy a trip, by way of celebration, so where do you want to go?"
She shook her head, but he could see she was trying to hold back a smile and he couldn't resist giving her a cheeky grin.
"You're two weeks late," she told him.
"What? Are you sure?"
Martha gave him a look that quite clearly said "I think I know when my own birthday is!" and he wilted, his shoulders slumping and his gaze becoming downcast.
"Shall I go away and come back two weeks ago?" he asked hesitantly.
She laughed and grabbed him in a hug. "Don't be daft," she said, "it's the thought that counts."
He wrapped his arms tightly around her in return. "You really don't mind?" he asked, looking down into her upturned face.
"I really don't," she assured him. "It's nice of you to even think of coming to help me celebrate."
He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "So, where do you want to go?"
"I don't know, somewhere green and pleasant?" she suggested.
"Done!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand towards her, an expectant look on his face.
Martha slipped her left hand into his right one and, grinning now, allowed him to lead her into the TARDIS which was in her hallway.
He bounded up the ramp towards the console, tugging her along, before dropping her hand to begin setting coordinates.
"So where are we going?" She joined him by the console.
"Angeven," he said, glancing up from his task, his hands stilling momentarily in their familiar dance across the madcap arrangement of bits and bobs that were the console controls. "It's got a thousand year old forest that covers most of the western continent. It's beautiful."
"Sounds it," she answered, smiling in pleasure.
"So then, Dr Jones, are you going to help me fly the TARDIS?" He grinned at her startled look.
"But I thought it took six of us?" she asked, remembering that amazing time.
"Ideally, yes, but since I normally fly her alone, having an extra pair of hands would be a help."
"Okay then." She stepped in front of the console, at his gesture, and he showed her what to do, and then the TARDIS lurched slightly and she knew they had dematerialised.
The Doctor stood by her side, watching her every move closely; he pushed out of his mind both the memory of showing Donna how to fly his ship, and the memory of himself and his friends gathered around the console, all helping to fly her at once. Dwelling on those memories would be a bad idea; he was trying to put all that pain behind him now.
It turned out that Martha was every bit as good as Donna when it came to flying the TARDIS, and the ride wasn't too bumpy. By the time the TARDIS materialised on Angeven, Martha's grin was threatening to split her face, and the Doctor couldn't help grinning in response. Then she patted the console, murmuring a thank you, and he felt his hearts swell with pride and pleasure.
They ran down the ramp hand-in-hand, both excited at the prospect of seeing the forest and its inhabitants, and the Doctor gestured for Martha to precede him out of the door, knowing she still got a thrill at seeing places for the first time, and getting a thrill himself out of her first reaction.
"Oh wow!" she exclaimed, gazing around at the lush green forest, the sunlight pouring through the leafy canopy and filling the clearing where they'd landed and hearing birds singing merrily all around them. "This looks gorgeous, thank you." She turned and hugged him, and he laughed, picking her up to swing her around as he had done so often before.
"Come on then, let's explore," he said, setting her back down on her feet, then offering her his arm.
"Thank you Mr Smith, I'd love to," she answered, slipping her arm through his as she had done so often.
They walked for half an hour, following a path through the trees that the Doctor thought had probably been made by animals heading towards the nearest water source; each of them pointed out to the other the plants, animals and birds that caught their attention as they walked.
They reached the water source, which turned out to be a small river, and were standing not far from the bank, discussing whether to go up-river or down, when they heard an enraged bellowing, and turned to find an animal that looked something like a rhinoceros, but with a much longer horn, charging towards them.
"Quick!" shouted the Doctor, "into the river!"
Martha turned towards the river but before either of them could jump in, the creature had already reached them and the Doctor shoved her sideways just before it crashed into him. He let out a yell of pain as its horn skewered his hand, and then he was tossed sideways, in the opposite direction to Martha. The creature turned towards her and she immediately ran towards the trees and scrambled up one, thanking providence that she had remained in shape after her year of walking.
The creature lumbered around towards her and began quartering the ground as if it was searching for her; Martha watched it from her tree, darting glances over at the Doctor, who was lying deathly still where he'd landed.
After a few minutes, the creature gave up its search and wandered further down the river bank; Martha waited the bare minimum of time for it to get clear, then scrambled back down the tree and rushed across to the prone Time Lord.
"Doctor! Doctor!"
She put an ear to his chest and listened to both his hearts, feeling a surge of relief to hear both of them thumping away. She sat back up, then loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt a little, before getting up and going over to the river. She dug in her coat pocket and found a neatly folded handkerchief which she soaked in the water, before going back to the Doctor and wiping his face with it. He started at its icy touch, opening his eyes with an effort.
"Martha?" He coughed some more and she helped him to sit up, rubbing his back. "Thanks. You're not injured?" he asked hoarsely, looking worried.
"No, I scrambled up a tree and it got bored looking for me." She carefully lifted up his right hand and examined it. "This looks bad."
"Feels bad," he muttered. "Sonic's in my pocket, setting 4248."
She slipped her hand into his inside jacket pocket and fished out the slim device, then adjusted the setting to scan his hand.
Now
They made it back to the TARDIS, although it took them far longer to walk back than it had to reach the river because the Doctor was too dizzy from the pain in his hand to move quickly. Martha was glad when they came in sight of the ship and she could get the Doctor to lean against the familiar blue panels while she fished out her key to let them in. They went up the ramp a lot slower than they'd gone down it, the Doctor's left arm draped around Martha's shoulders as he shuffled forward. She could hear his breaths rasping and tried not to worry about him going into shock from the trauma.
"Nearly there," she told him, trying to sound bright and cheerful, but uncertain she'd managed it.
Fortunately the TARDIS had responded to the pain filling the Doctor and moved the Med Bay close to the Control Room. Martha murmured her thanks to the ship as she guided him into the room and over to a bed, onto which he flopped, clearly exhausted.
"Let me get your jacket and shirt off," she told him, "and then I'll see about fixing you up."
He mumbled a thank you, his face grey with pain, and allowed her to ease him out of his jacket, then his shirt. She pulled off her own jacket, then pulled on a surgical gown, cap and mask before scrubbing her hands and pulling on some latex gloves.
The Doctor's eyes remained screwed shut as Martha gave him a local anaesthetic and held his uninjured hand in hers as she waited for it to take effect. After a few minutes, the tension in his body eased and he opened his eyes.
"It's numb," he told her.
"Good. I'll be as quick as I can."
His eyes closed again as she switched on the tissue regenerator and began the slow, careful process of healing the hole in his hand. Once that was finished, Martha X-rayed it to see just how badly the surrounding bones were damaged; she knew that he healed faster than humans, thanks to his superior physiology, but she needed an idea of how long that process would take.
Checking the X-rays revealed that the Doctor wouldn't be able to use his hand for a few days, although she intended to tell him a week, because she knew from experience that he would make the attempt sooner out of sheer impatience.
"What's the damage?" he asked huskily.
"Your capitate, lunate and triquetral bones are all broken," she said, "and it's possible some of the nerves are damaged as well. You're going to have to keep it immobilised for at least a week."
He scowled. "Immobilised for a week? You realise that means we'll be stuck here until I can use it?"
"I know," she said calmly, refraining from pointing out that he'd be able to take her back just a few hours after they'd left her flat once he could fly his ship.
"Some birthday trip this turned out to be," he grumbled. "I can't even manage a simple walk in a forest without getting us into trouble."
"Now then, none of that," she admonished gently. "Let me get your hand immobilised, and then I suggest you get some rest since your body's suffered a severe trauma."
As she spoke, Martha sorted out a dressing, a bandage and a sling, and she soon had the dressing and the bandage applied.
"Do you want to put your shirt back on before I put your arm in the sling?" she asked.
"Do I have to have a sling?" the Doctor asked fretfully.
"It's better if you do," she told him, "it'll remind you not to try using the hand."
He scowled and looked from his shirt to the sling she held. "Shirt off," he said finally.
"Okay." Sometimes, she thought, he was as bad as a child when it came illness or injury. She settled his arm in the sling, then leaned forward to fix it around his neck.
The Doctor sat very still whilst Martha was leaning over him: he was suddenly intensely aware of the close proximity of her body to his as she reached behind his neck to fasten the strap; he closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath, inhaling the scent of sandalwood and citrus fruits, the latter was probably her shampoo, that clung to her and stirred his senses.
"You all right?" she asked, and his eyes flew open and his cheeks grew warm.
"Yes," he said quickly.
"Come on then, let's get you to bed." She helped him off the bed, sliding an arm around his torso, and grabbed his shirt and jacket before guiding him out into the corridor.
"I can walk by myself," he protested, rather feebly since he didn't really want her to let go of him just yet.
"I'd rather not risk you keeling over, mister," she told him.
They reached the Doctor's room a few moments later, and he realised with a jolt, that Martha had never seen it before. He wondered if he'd left it tidy, but before he could recall, she'd opened the door and was helping him inside.
Fortunately it was tidy, apart from the stack of books on the bedside table that was leaning precariously towards the bed.
The Time Lord sat down on his bed and she immediately knelt on the floor to pull off his Converse and socks.
"Lie down, then," she said, and he obeyed, allowing her to swing his feet and legs up onto the bed.
"Thank you." His voice came out as little more than a whisper and he suddenly felt very vulnerable. In the four months since he'd left Donna with her family, he hadn't had a full time companion, and having Martha here, taking care of him, felt both familiar and terrifying.
"Are you going to get some sleep?" she asked, breaking in on his thoughts again, as she had in the Med Bay just now.
"I'd rather you stayed to talk to me," he said, wondering if she'd mind. "Tell me what you've been up to since - you know."
She looked around the room for a chair, but he moved across the bed, patting the mattress beside him with his uninjured hand, so she kicked off her shoes, then sat cross-legged beside him on the bed.
They talked for a couple of hours, although Martha did most of the talking, to the Doctor's relief; he had worried that she'd ask him about Rose or Donna, or even his human self, none of which he was quite ready to discuss yet. Fortunately she talked about her work with UNIT, and Jack's continuing attempts to persuade her to join Torchwood instead. She told him that Mickey had readily joined the former Time Agent's team, and that she had been meeting up with Sarah Jane every couple of weeks.
"I'm glad you've stayed with UNIT," the Doctor commented at the end of her recital.
She raised her eyebrows at him. "I thought you didn't like UNIT."
He felt his face flush as he remembered his dramatic rant about guns at the ATMOS factory. "I'd rather you worked for them than Torchwood," he said.
"Well I'd rather work for them too. There's no possibility of career development or promotion if I work for Torchwood, plus the chances of living to a pensionable age are practically non-existent."
"I - " The Doctor broke off as Martha suddenly stifled a yawn behind her hand. "You should get some rest, too," he said.
"Think the adrenaline rush has worn off now," she observed as she uncrossed her legs, preparing to get off the bed. "Is my room still there?"
"Probably," he answered. "but you could stay here." He hoped he didn't sound too needy, but the way she looked at him made him suspect that he did.
"If you want me to, I can stay."
"Please," he said softly. She nodded. "If you want to change out of your clothes, there's some pyjamas in the bottom drawer over there."
Martha climbed off the bed and got out the pyjamas.
"The bathroom is through the door to your right," he told her.
A few minutes later, she climbed back onto the bed, now wearing his striped pyjamas that he'd worn at the Royal Hope; there were too big, but they'd be more comfortable than sleeping in her jeans. With the Doctor's encouragement, she snuggled up next to him, his left arm draped loosely around her, and after only a few minutes more, she was asleep.
* * * * * *
To the Doctor's surprise, he slept too, only waking when Martha woke up and moved away from him to go to the bathroom a few hours later; he scrubbed his free hand over his face and wondered what they were going to do for the next week.
"How are you feeling?" asked Martha, when she returned.
"Better," he admitted.
"Good." She climbed back onto the bed beside him. "I think you owe me a story."
He gave her a quizzical look. "I do?"
"You do," she said firmly. "Where's Donna? And what happened to Rose and the other Doctor?"
She saw his eyes darken with pain and considered withdrawing the question, but decided that it would probably be better for him to talk. She moved closer, resting her head on his shoulder and her left hand in the middle of his chest.
"Tell me what happened after you dropped off me, Jack and Mickey."
The Doctor sighed heavily, his chest rising and falling under Martha's hand. He'd known she would ask: in all the time he'd known her, she'd never shied away from asking questions.
"Donna's with her parents," he began.
"I thought she said she was going to travel with you forever?"
"She did, and I'd have let her travel with me for as long as she wanted, but there's never been a Human-Time Lord meta-crisis before, for the very good reason that human brains aren't designed to hold the mind of a Time Lord."
"What happened?" asked Martha, her voice barely above a whisper; she could feel the Doctor's muscles had tensed up as he talked.
"I took away her memories," he answered, audibly struggling with his own memory. "She was going to die, if I didn't, so I locked away her memories. She's still alive but she's not the Donna you knew." He gasped a little and Martha lifted her head from his shoulder.
"Shh, shh." She reached up and stroked her thumb across his cheek, brushing away the few tears there.
"What about Rose and the other Doctor?" she asked after a few moments. "What happened to them?"
"I took her back, and him with her, to the other universe."
"Can I ask why?"
"It was better for Rose to be with her family, and he'd be better off with her - she could teach him how not to be a genocidal killer."
"Better for them, or better for you?" asked Martha quietly.
"What?" he asked, confused.
"Was it better for them to go away, or better for you that they went away?"
"Martha, Rose had spent all our time apart in trying to get back to this universe, despite the fact I had told her that two universes would collapse if that happened. And when she thought I was going to regenerate, she was really upset, even though she'd seen it happen before and knew I'd still be me. She didn't want me so much as someone who looked like me, someone who could always be with her, so I gave her what she wanted."
Martha was silent for some time after that, thinking over what he'd told her. On the one hand, she was worried by the Doctor's high-handedness, but on the other, she could understand why he'd made the decision he had. It was more than a little disturbing to think that Rose had risked so much for the sake of seeing the Doctor again, but she felt guilty too, because she could see him any time. After living in Rose's shadow for so long while she'd been travelling with the Time Lord, she'd got on okay with her when they'd finally met; admittedly she'd got on rather better with both Donna and Sarah Jane, but then Sarah Jane had worked for UNIT, so that had given them an instant bond.
"You think I did the wrong thing," the Doctor observed, breaking in on her thoughts.
"Maybe," she answered. "I don't know, I think I'm not the best person to judge."
They lay quietly for several more minutes, lost in their thoughts, although the Doctor's thoughts mostly consisted of how nice it felt to have Martha lying next to him.
"I hope Donna's going to be okay," she said, breaking into the Time Lord's daydream.
"She should be, so long as no one mentions anything about what happened during her time with me."
"What?" asked Martha, sitting up abruptly and staring at him in shock. "What happens if someone does mention something?"
"Well, if her memory's triggered, the meta-crisis will reoccur and it'll kill her."
"Doctor! Are you completely mad? Someone's bound to say something sooner or later that will trigger her memory!"
She looked so frantic that the Doctor sat up and reached out to calm her. "She'll be fine, I warned Wilf and Sylvia not to say anything."
"Fat lot of good that'll do if she bumps into someone, an old friend or a workmate, who mentions something."
He flinched at the anger blazing in her eyes. "Well, but, there wasn't much else I could do," he protested, flustered, "she was dying, Martha."
"And she still could die!" She scrambled off the bed and went to grab her phone from her jeans pocket.
"What are you doing?" asked the Doctor, puzzled.
"I'm going phone Jack and ask him to collect Donna to put her in stasis, and then when we get back home, we're going to figure out a way to stabilise the meta-crisis."
"Martha you can't do that!" he gasped.
"Why not?" she demanded, sparks in her dark eyes, and he couldn't help thinking that she was scary when she was really angry: an Oncoming Storm all of her own.
"Because it wouldn't be fair."
"And what you did was fair?" Martha snapped, flipping open her phone and looking for Jack's number.
The Doctor scrambled off the bed and grabbed the phone from her. "Let's talk about this first, before you go doing anything rash," he pleaded.
"Me? You're the one who's rash!" She folded her arms across her chest, glaring now, and he backed away to sit down on the edge of the bed, giving her a pleading look.
"Don't you want to help Donna," she asked, "or would you rather wallow in self-pity, bemoaning how lonely you are?"
He looked shocked and hurt at her accusation, but she refused to back down. She was angry at herself, as much as at the Doctor, for not bothering to check up on Donna; she had meant to ring her, to find out how she was getting on with a Time Lord's mind in her head, but between one thing and another, she hadn't got around to it. While it was likely that Donna wouldn't have remembered Martha, had she rung, that didn't make it right that she'd forgotten.
"I do want to help Donna," the Doctor said quietly, "but I honestly don't know if it's possible."
"Then I suggest we try to find out," she answered. "We've got a week before we can go back home, let's use that time to see if we can work out a solution between us. I presume you've got books on Gallifreyan biology and physiology in the TARDIS library?"
He nodded, then held out her phone and she took it. "Let me get changed again, then, and we'll go and get started." And it'll give you something else to think about rather than fretting over your hand, she thought as she picked up her clothes and carried them into the bathroom to get dressed again.
Fifteen minutes later they were seated together at a desk that was now stacked with the relevant books, and armed with notebooks, pens and mugs of coffee.
The Doctor couldn't help feeling proud that Martha cared enough about Donna to want to help her, even though he privately considered the task to be impossible; but he also felt that if anyone possessed the patience and perseverance to figure out a solution, then Dr Martha Jones was that person.
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Ten friendship
Rating: G
Spoilers: For 4.13 but set post-S4
Summary: The Doctor turns up 2 weeks late for Martha's birthday, and things continue to go downhill.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/136376.html">Hands by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha/Ten friendship | Rating: G | Spoilers: For 4.13 but set post-S4)
Author Notes: This fic is for radiantbaby who recently created a fanmix that included the song Hands by The Raconteurs, these lines of which set off the bunnies:
Girl, you got those hands that heal,
Help me get in touch with what I feel,
'Cause you understand and you sympathise.
~~~~~~
The Doctor was still as Martha ran his Sonic Screwdriver over his right hand in an attempt to find out how much damage he'd suffered.
"Shame you can't grow a new one again," she joked feebly as she clicked off the device. She darted a glance up into his face when he didn't respond, and saw his eyes were shut, beads of sweat standing on his forehead.
"Doctor? Come on, Doctor, stay with me." She lifted up the hand that wasn't cradling his and brushed her fingertips over his forehead.
His eyes opened and he struggled to focus on her face.
"Martha?" he croaked.
"That's me," she said. She tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. "That beast has damaged your capitate, lunate and triquetral bones." She pointed them out to him. "Plus, you've a nasty hole in the middle of your hand." Not that she needed to point that out, given how big it was; she could hardly bear to look at it, but it was impossible to miss.
She glanced up at the Time Lord and saw his eyes had closed again. "Doctor!" She spoke sharply and his eyes opened again, surprise in them, as well as pain. "You need to stay awake," Martha told him, "we have to get back to the TARDIS."
"Can't - " he gasped. "Can't - concentrate."
"You must," she told him firmly. "Come on, on your feet." She put his arm into the makeshift sling she'd fashioned out of his tie and some material she'd torn from the bottom of her t-shirt. Then she stood up and hauled on his left arm until he staggered up to his feet; she wrapped an arm around him and got him walking towards the clearing where the TARDIS had landed an hour earlier.
The forest, which they'd both admired while they'd been walking through it, was quiet and still now, the only sign of the presence of the beast that had attacked them was cradled across the Doctor's chest.
Two hours earlier relative time
"Now then, Dr Jones, I believe you're having a birthday today?" The Doctor grinned down at his former companion, pleased at having surprised her by his sudden appearance in her flat.
"Bloody hell Doctor!" Martha exclaimed, one hand pressed to her heart as she tried to get over her shock. "You've got my number, why didn't you ring and warn me you were coming?" she demanded.
"And spoil the surprise?" he asked, disbelievingly. "Anyway, I thought you might fancy a trip, by way of celebration, so where do you want to go?"
She shook her head, but he could see she was trying to hold back a smile and he couldn't resist giving her a cheeky grin.
"You're two weeks late," she told him.
"What? Are you sure?"
Martha gave him a look that quite clearly said "I think I know when my own birthday is!" and he wilted, his shoulders slumping and his gaze becoming downcast.
"Shall I go away and come back two weeks ago?" he asked hesitantly.
She laughed and grabbed him in a hug. "Don't be daft," she said, "it's the thought that counts."
He wrapped his arms tightly around her in return. "You really don't mind?" he asked, looking down into her upturned face.
"I really don't," she assured him. "It's nice of you to even think of coming to help me celebrate."
He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "So, where do you want to go?"
"I don't know, somewhere green and pleasant?" she suggested.
"Done!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand towards her, an expectant look on his face.
Martha slipped her left hand into his right one and, grinning now, allowed him to lead her into the TARDIS which was in her hallway.
He bounded up the ramp towards the console, tugging her along, before dropping her hand to begin setting coordinates.
"So where are we going?" She joined him by the console.
"Angeven," he said, glancing up from his task, his hands stilling momentarily in their familiar dance across the madcap arrangement of bits and bobs that were the console controls. "It's got a thousand year old forest that covers most of the western continent. It's beautiful."
"Sounds it," she answered, smiling in pleasure.
"So then, Dr Jones, are you going to help me fly the TARDIS?" He grinned at her startled look.
"But I thought it took six of us?" she asked, remembering that amazing time.
"Ideally, yes, but since I normally fly her alone, having an extra pair of hands would be a help."
"Okay then." She stepped in front of the console, at his gesture, and he showed her what to do, and then the TARDIS lurched slightly and she knew they had dematerialised.
The Doctor stood by her side, watching her every move closely; he pushed out of his mind both the memory of showing Donna how to fly his ship, and the memory of himself and his friends gathered around the console, all helping to fly her at once. Dwelling on those memories would be a bad idea; he was trying to put all that pain behind him now.
It turned out that Martha was every bit as good as Donna when it came to flying the TARDIS, and the ride wasn't too bumpy. By the time the TARDIS materialised on Angeven, Martha's grin was threatening to split her face, and the Doctor couldn't help grinning in response. Then she patted the console, murmuring a thank you, and he felt his hearts swell with pride and pleasure.
They ran down the ramp hand-in-hand, both excited at the prospect of seeing the forest and its inhabitants, and the Doctor gestured for Martha to precede him out of the door, knowing she still got a thrill at seeing places for the first time, and getting a thrill himself out of her first reaction.
"Oh wow!" she exclaimed, gazing around at the lush green forest, the sunlight pouring through the leafy canopy and filling the clearing where they'd landed and hearing birds singing merrily all around them. "This looks gorgeous, thank you." She turned and hugged him, and he laughed, picking her up to swing her around as he had done so often before.
"Come on then, let's explore," he said, setting her back down on her feet, then offering her his arm.
"Thank you Mr Smith, I'd love to," she answered, slipping her arm through his as she had done so often.
They walked for half an hour, following a path through the trees that the Doctor thought had probably been made by animals heading towards the nearest water source; each of them pointed out to the other the plants, animals and birds that caught their attention as they walked.
They reached the water source, which turned out to be a small river, and were standing not far from the bank, discussing whether to go up-river or down, when they heard an enraged bellowing, and turned to find an animal that looked something like a rhinoceros, but with a much longer horn, charging towards them.
"Quick!" shouted the Doctor, "into the river!"
Martha turned towards the river but before either of them could jump in, the creature had already reached them and the Doctor shoved her sideways just before it crashed into him. He let out a yell of pain as its horn skewered his hand, and then he was tossed sideways, in the opposite direction to Martha. The creature turned towards her and she immediately ran towards the trees and scrambled up one, thanking providence that she had remained in shape after her year of walking.
The creature lumbered around towards her and began quartering the ground as if it was searching for her; Martha watched it from her tree, darting glances over at the Doctor, who was lying deathly still where he'd landed.
After a few minutes, the creature gave up its search and wandered further down the river bank; Martha waited the bare minimum of time for it to get clear, then scrambled back down the tree and rushed across to the prone Time Lord.
"Doctor! Doctor!"
She put an ear to his chest and listened to both his hearts, feeling a surge of relief to hear both of them thumping away. She sat back up, then loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt a little, before getting up and going over to the river. She dug in her coat pocket and found a neatly folded handkerchief which she soaked in the water, before going back to the Doctor and wiping his face with it. He started at its icy touch, opening his eyes with an effort.
"Martha?" He coughed some more and she helped him to sit up, rubbing his back. "Thanks. You're not injured?" he asked hoarsely, looking worried.
"No, I scrambled up a tree and it got bored looking for me." She carefully lifted up his right hand and examined it. "This looks bad."
"Feels bad," he muttered. "Sonic's in my pocket, setting 4248."
She slipped her hand into his inside jacket pocket and fished out the slim device, then adjusted the setting to scan his hand.
Now
They made it back to the TARDIS, although it took them far longer to walk back than it had to reach the river because the Doctor was too dizzy from the pain in his hand to move quickly. Martha was glad when they came in sight of the ship and she could get the Doctor to lean against the familiar blue panels while she fished out her key to let them in. They went up the ramp a lot slower than they'd gone down it, the Doctor's left arm draped around Martha's shoulders as he shuffled forward. She could hear his breaths rasping and tried not to worry about him going into shock from the trauma.
"Nearly there," she told him, trying to sound bright and cheerful, but uncertain she'd managed it.
Fortunately the TARDIS had responded to the pain filling the Doctor and moved the Med Bay close to the Control Room. Martha murmured her thanks to the ship as she guided him into the room and over to a bed, onto which he flopped, clearly exhausted.
"Let me get your jacket and shirt off," she told him, "and then I'll see about fixing you up."
He mumbled a thank you, his face grey with pain, and allowed her to ease him out of his jacket, then his shirt. She pulled off her own jacket, then pulled on a surgical gown, cap and mask before scrubbing her hands and pulling on some latex gloves.
The Doctor's eyes remained screwed shut as Martha gave him a local anaesthetic and held his uninjured hand in hers as she waited for it to take effect. After a few minutes, the tension in his body eased and he opened his eyes.
"It's numb," he told her.
"Good. I'll be as quick as I can."
His eyes closed again as she switched on the tissue regenerator and began the slow, careful process of healing the hole in his hand. Once that was finished, Martha X-rayed it to see just how badly the surrounding bones were damaged; she knew that he healed faster than humans, thanks to his superior physiology, but she needed an idea of how long that process would take.
Checking the X-rays revealed that the Doctor wouldn't be able to use his hand for a few days, although she intended to tell him a week, because she knew from experience that he would make the attempt sooner out of sheer impatience.
"What's the damage?" he asked huskily.
"Your capitate, lunate and triquetral bones are all broken," she said, "and it's possible some of the nerves are damaged as well. You're going to have to keep it immobilised for at least a week."
He scowled. "Immobilised for a week? You realise that means we'll be stuck here until I can use it?"
"I know," she said calmly, refraining from pointing out that he'd be able to take her back just a few hours after they'd left her flat once he could fly his ship.
"Some birthday trip this turned out to be," he grumbled. "I can't even manage a simple walk in a forest without getting us into trouble."
"Now then, none of that," she admonished gently. "Let me get your hand immobilised, and then I suggest you get some rest since your body's suffered a severe trauma."
As she spoke, Martha sorted out a dressing, a bandage and a sling, and she soon had the dressing and the bandage applied.
"Do you want to put your shirt back on before I put your arm in the sling?" she asked.
"Do I have to have a sling?" the Doctor asked fretfully.
"It's better if you do," she told him, "it'll remind you not to try using the hand."
He scowled and looked from his shirt to the sling she held. "Shirt off," he said finally.
"Okay." Sometimes, she thought, he was as bad as a child when it came illness or injury. She settled his arm in the sling, then leaned forward to fix it around his neck.
The Doctor sat very still whilst Martha was leaning over him: he was suddenly intensely aware of the close proximity of her body to his as she reached behind his neck to fasten the strap; he closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath, inhaling the scent of sandalwood and citrus fruits, the latter was probably her shampoo, that clung to her and stirred his senses.
"You all right?" she asked, and his eyes flew open and his cheeks grew warm.
"Yes," he said quickly.
"Come on then, let's get you to bed." She helped him off the bed, sliding an arm around his torso, and grabbed his shirt and jacket before guiding him out into the corridor.
"I can walk by myself," he protested, rather feebly since he didn't really want her to let go of him just yet.
"I'd rather not risk you keeling over, mister," she told him.
They reached the Doctor's room a few moments later, and he realised with a jolt, that Martha had never seen it before. He wondered if he'd left it tidy, but before he could recall, she'd opened the door and was helping him inside.
Fortunately it was tidy, apart from the stack of books on the bedside table that was leaning precariously towards the bed.
The Time Lord sat down on his bed and she immediately knelt on the floor to pull off his Converse and socks.
"Lie down, then," she said, and he obeyed, allowing her to swing his feet and legs up onto the bed.
"Thank you." His voice came out as little more than a whisper and he suddenly felt very vulnerable. In the four months since he'd left Donna with her family, he hadn't had a full time companion, and having Martha here, taking care of him, felt both familiar and terrifying.
"Are you going to get some sleep?" she asked, breaking in on his thoughts again, as she had in the Med Bay just now.
"I'd rather you stayed to talk to me," he said, wondering if she'd mind. "Tell me what you've been up to since - you know."
She looked around the room for a chair, but he moved across the bed, patting the mattress beside him with his uninjured hand, so she kicked off her shoes, then sat cross-legged beside him on the bed.
They talked for a couple of hours, although Martha did most of the talking, to the Doctor's relief; he had worried that she'd ask him about Rose or Donna, or even his human self, none of which he was quite ready to discuss yet. Fortunately she talked about her work with UNIT, and Jack's continuing attempts to persuade her to join Torchwood instead. She told him that Mickey had readily joined the former Time Agent's team, and that she had been meeting up with Sarah Jane every couple of weeks.
"I'm glad you've stayed with UNIT," the Doctor commented at the end of her recital.
She raised her eyebrows at him. "I thought you didn't like UNIT."
He felt his face flush as he remembered his dramatic rant about guns at the ATMOS factory. "I'd rather you worked for them than Torchwood," he said.
"Well I'd rather work for them too. There's no possibility of career development or promotion if I work for Torchwood, plus the chances of living to a pensionable age are practically non-existent."
"I - " The Doctor broke off as Martha suddenly stifled a yawn behind her hand. "You should get some rest, too," he said.
"Think the adrenaline rush has worn off now," she observed as she uncrossed her legs, preparing to get off the bed. "Is my room still there?"
"Probably," he answered. "but you could stay here." He hoped he didn't sound too needy, but the way she looked at him made him suspect that he did.
"If you want me to, I can stay."
"Please," he said softly. She nodded. "If you want to change out of your clothes, there's some pyjamas in the bottom drawer over there."
Martha climbed off the bed and got out the pyjamas.
"The bathroom is through the door to your right," he told her.
A few minutes later, she climbed back onto the bed, now wearing his striped pyjamas that he'd worn at the Royal Hope; there were too big, but they'd be more comfortable than sleeping in her jeans. With the Doctor's encouragement, she snuggled up next to him, his left arm draped loosely around her, and after only a few minutes more, she was asleep.
* * * * * *
To the Doctor's surprise, he slept too, only waking when Martha woke up and moved away from him to go to the bathroom a few hours later; he scrubbed his free hand over his face and wondered what they were going to do for the next week.
"How are you feeling?" asked Martha, when she returned.
"Better," he admitted.
"Good." She climbed back onto the bed beside him. "I think you owe me a story."
He gave her a quizzical look. "I do?"
"You do," she said firmly. "Where's Donna? And what happened to Rose and the other Doctor?"
She saw his eyes darken with pain and considered withdrawing the question, but decided that it would probably be better for him to talk. She moved closer, resting her head on his shoulder and her left hand in the middle of his chest.
"Tell me what happened after you dropped off me, Jack and Mickey."
The Doctor sighed heavily, his chest rising and falling under Martha's hand. He'd known she would ask: in all the time he'd known her, she'd never shied away from asking questions.
"Donna's with her parents," he began.
"I thought she said she was going to travel with you forever?"
"She did, and I'd have let her travel with me for as long as she wanted, but there's never been a Human-Time Lord meta-crisis before, for the very good reason that human brains aren't designed to hold the mind of a Time Lord."
"What happened?" asked Martha, her voice barely above a whisper; she could feel the Doctor's muscles had tensed up as he talked.
"I took away her memories," he answered, audibly struggling with his own memory. "She was going to die, if I didn't, so I locked away her memories. She's still alive but she's not the Donna you knew." He gasped a little and Martha lifted her head from his shoulder.
"Shh, shh." She reached up and stroked her thumb across his cheek, brushing away the few tears there.
"What about Rose and the other Doctor?" she asked after a few moments. "What happened to them?"
"I took her back, and him with her, to the other universe."
"Can I ask why?"
"It was better for Rose to be with her family, and he'd be better off with her - she could teach him how not to be a genocidal killer."
"Better for them, or better for you?" asked Martha quietly.
"What?" he asked, confused.
"Was it better for them to go away, or better for you that they went away?"
"Martha, Rose had spent all our time apart in trying to get back to this universe, despite the fact I had told her that two universes would collapse if that happened. And when she thought I was going to regenerate, she was really upset, even though she'd seen it happen before and knew I'd still be me. She didn't want me so much as someone who looked like me, someone who could always be with her, so I gave her what she wanted."
Martha was silent for some time after that, thinking over what he'd told her. On the one hand, she was worried by the Doctor's high-handedness, but on the other, she could understand why he'd made the decision he had. It was more than a little disturbing to think that Rose had risked so much for the sake of seeing the Doctor again, but she felt guilty too, because she could see him any time. After living in Rose's shadow for so long while she'd been travelling with the Time Lord, she'd got on okay with her when they'd finally met; admittedly she'd got on rather better with both Donna and Sarah Jane, but then Sarah Jane had worked for UNIT, so that had given them an instant bond.
"You think I did the wrong thing," the Doctor observed, breaking in on her thoughts.
"Maybe," she answered. "I don't know, I think I'm not the best person to judge."
They lay quietly for several more minutes, lost in their thoughts, although the Doctor's thoughts mostly consisted of how nice it felt to have Martha lying next to him.
"I hope Donna's going to be okay," she said, breaking into the Time Lord's daydream.
"She should be, so long as no one mentions anything about what happened during her time with me."
"What?" asked Martha, sitting up abruptly and staring at him in shock. "What happens if someone does mention something?"
"Well, if her memory's triggered, the meta-crisis will reoccur and it'll kill her."
"Doctor! Are you completely mad? Someone's bound to say something sooner or later that will trigger her memory!"
She looked so frantic that the Doctor sat up and reached out to calm her. "She'll be fine, I warned Wilf and Sylvia not to say anything."
"Fat lot of good that'll do if she bumps into someone, an old friend or a workmate, who mentions something."
He flinched at the anger blazing in her eyes. "Well, but, there wasn't much else I could do," he protested, flustered, "she was dying, Martha."
"And she still could die!" She scrambled off the bed and went to grab her phone from her jeans pocket.
"What are you doing?" asked the Doctor, puzzled.
"I'm going phone Jack and ask him to collect Donna to put her in stasis, and then when we get back home, we're going to figure out a way to stabilise the meta-crisis."
"Martha you can't do that!" he gasped.
"Why not?" she demanded, sparks in her dark eyes, and he couldn't help thinking that she was scary when she was really angry: an Oncoming Storm all of her own.
"Because it wouldn't be fair."
"And what you did was fair?" Martha snapped, flipping open her phone and looking for Jack's number.
The Doctor scrambled off the bed and grabbed the phone from her. "Let's talk about this first, before you go doing anything rash," he pleaded.
"Me? You're the one who's rash!" She folded her arms across her chest, glaring now, and he backed away to sit down on the edge of the bed, giving her a pleading look.
"Don't you want to help Donna," she asked, "or would you rather wallow in self-pity, bemoaning how lonely you are?"
He looked shocked and hurt at her accusation, but she refused to back down. She was angry at herself, as much as at the Doctor, for not bothering to check up on Donna; she had meant to ring her, to find out how she was getting on with a Time Lord's mind in her head, but between one thing and another, she hadn't got around to it. While it was likely that Donna wouldn't have remembered Martha, had she rung, that didn't make it right that she'd forgotten.
"I do want to help Donna," the Doctor said quietly, "but I honestly don't know if it's possible."
"Then I suggest we try to find out," she answered. "We've got a week before we can go back home, let's use that time to see if we can work out a solution between us. I presume you've got books on Gallifreyan biology and physiology in the TARDIS library?"
He nodded, then held out her phone and she took it. "Let me get changed again, then, and we'll go and get started." And it'll give you something else to think about rather than fretting over your hand, she thought as she picked up her clothes and carried them into the bathroom to get dressed again.
Fifteen minutes later they were seated together at a desk that was now stacked with the relevant books, and armed with notebooks, pens and mugs of coffee.
The Doctor couldn't help feeling proud that Martha cared enough about Donna to want to help her, even though he privately considered the task to be impossible; but he also felt that if anyone possessed the patience and perseverance to figure out a solution, then Dr Martha Jones was that person.