Sorrow and Joy
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/202772.html">Sorrow and Joy by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha/Human-Doctor, Donna, Wilf | Rating: NC-17 | Spoilers: 4.13)
Title: Sorrow and Joy
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Human-Doctor, Donna, Wilf
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Journey's End (AU)
Summary: The Human-Doctor and Martha visit Donna Noble
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish that I did own it!
Author Notes: This fic is a holiday gift for radiantbaby - Happy Holidays hon, and thanks for sharing the Who love with me! It's a "missing scene" for Down and Out at Christmas insofar as it's set during the 12 days covered by that story.
Beta: The lovely fourzoas
~~~~~~
December 26
Martha and John were up early on the morning of Boxing Day, preparing to brave the madness of the sales so that they could get him some spare clothes; she didn't like the idea of him only having the clothes in which he stood up, particularly since they didn't know when the Doctor would return for him.
"Time to introduce you to some of Earth's weirder customs," Martha said as they ate toast and drank coffee.
"Did you know that on Projada they only allow retailers to open for 4 hours a day, four times a week during the sale season?" John asked.
She frowned. "Sounds a bit restrictive," she commented.
He shook his head. "Nah, 'cos it means that the staff get to spend time with their families as well. 'sides, you remember how frantic the Spring sale season was, when you were working in the shop in 1969?" She nodded emphatically. "Well, imagine that in 21st century terms - four hours would be enough, wouldn't it?"
"More than enough," Martha answered with feeling.
"There you go then! The Projadans are actually being very practical and sensible about the whole thing."
She smiled at him.
"What?" he asked, sounding slightly nervous.
"I'm just thinking that I can't imagine the Doctor on Projada during a sale."
"Oh." His expression was inscrutable as he got up, put his plate and mug in the sink, then went out; Martha heard the bathroom door closing.
"Nice one, Martha," she muttered, annoyed with herself for bringing up the Doctor in such a way. Yesterday it had been her intention to ring the Time Lord today to find out if he was going to come and fetch John, but after last night she felt less inclined to do so. She couldn't help feeling it wouldn't hurt for him to have some time alone to consider his cavalier behaviour towards his companion.
When John came out of the bathroom, she was in the hall. "Here," she said, holding out her blue and red ski jacket to him.
"Thanks." He took it, then ducked his head to kiss her cheek. "Sorry," he said softly.
"What for?" she asked.
"Being touchy on the subject of the Doctor." He pulled on the ski jacket.
"Silly man," she said, placing her right hand on his chest for balance as she stood on tiptoes to kiss him. "It's perfectly understandable. Now, let's get going or we won't be back until bedtime." She reached up and took down her own coat, and John automatically moved to help her put it on.
"Do we have to go?" John asked, a playful smirk on his face as she looked over her shoulder at him. "If we stay in bed, I won't need any more clothes than the ones I've got."
Martha blushed. "John!" she protested. "We can't spend all our time in bed until the Doctor comes to fetch you."
"Why not?" he asked, turning her around and sliding his hands down to cup her bottom, her body pressed against his.
"It would be the height of laziness," Martha answered, acutely aware of his arousal.
He smirked again. "You wouldn't get that much rest," he told her.
"John!" She was aware that what she'd intended to be a firm protest had come out more like a breathy moan, which made him smirk even more. She gently, but reluctantly, pulled herself free.
"Be a good boy," she admonished, then smirked up at him, "Maybe you'll get a reward then."
"Tease," he growled, but he zipped up his borrowed coat.
"Pot, kettle," she retorted, dancing out of his reach when he tried to swat her bottom. She stuck her tongue out at him, giggling at the surprised expression this provoked.
"How old are you, Dr Jones?" he asked, catching up with her at the door.
"As old as my tongue and - "
"A little older than my teeth," he chimed in, grinning.
"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand. "No more shilly-shallying. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back."
"Can't argue with that logic," he agreed.
* * * * * *
They got back at 11.30 am, both of them feeling fairly frazzled by their shopping experience. They shed their coats and shoes in the hall, then carried their bags of shopping through into Martha's room. John flopped down onto the bed in an untidy sprawl.
"Pray hold me up for fear I swoon, for I am like to die," he declaimed, rather melodramatically, Martha thought.
"Fool man," she said affectionately as she sat down beside him and lifted up her left foot. She rested the ankle on her right knee, then began to massage it; an impatient and bad-tempered woman in four inch heels had stood on it while they had both been queuing to pay in House of Fraser.
"Your foot okay?" John asked solicitously.
"Bit sore," Martha answered.
"Let's have a look then." He sat up again and she turned towards him. He moved her foot across onto his lap and gently removed the sock, then cradled it in both hands.
"Ouch," he said softly, looking at the bruise that was already forming where the woman's heel had landed. He lifted her foot and softly kissed the top of it, on the sore spot, which provoked a giggle from Martha. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Dr Jones, are you laughing at my treatment of your injury?"
"Maybe," she said, smirking. "You must admit, I'm a bit old for the 'kiss it better' treatment."
"On the contrary, I think you're exactly the right age," he said, putting her foot aside and leaning forward. He lifted his hands to cup her face and kissed her deeply, eliciting a moan which prompted him to lift her onto his lap without breaking their kiss.
"Show off," she teased when she pulled away to catch her breath again.
"Who me?" he asked, trying and failing to look innocent.
"Yes, you."
He shook his head, then kissed her again, sliding his hands underneath her jumper and t-shirt to stroke her bare skin.
"John!"
"Hmm?" He was nuzzling her neck now, while his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples through her bra.
Martha moaned, arching her back and feeling her arousal growing. "Please!"
"Is that 'Please don't', or 'Please don't stop'?" he asked, lifting his head to look at her; her eyes were closed and her lips parted.
"Please give me more," she answered, opening her eyes and unveiling her desire.
"Gladly." He smiled sweetly at her, then lifted her jumper and t-shirt off.
Within a few minutes she was naked and John was sliding his fingers into her while kissing and sucking on her breasts. He brought her to orgasm twice and as she lay gasping for breath after the second one, he quickly undressed.
"Okay?" he asked as he moved his body over hers.
"Yes." She hooked one leg over his hip as he pushed inside her, wrapping one arm around his torso and the other around his neck so she could pull his head down to kiss him.
Later, while John was in the bathroom, Martha wondered whether she was doing the right thing, getting involved with him, or if she was just using him as a substitute for the Doctor. She hadn't had much inclination for dating after her travels with the Time Lord, but that was a result of the year she'd spent walking the world, rather than any continued hankering after the Doctor: between looking after her family and dealing with her own trauma, she'd had no time or energy for anyone else.
Martha didn't think she was using John as a substitute: he might look like the Doctor, but he wasn't the same man, even if you left aside the fact he was a human, not a Time Lord. She had quickly learned that he was far more open and direct about his feelings, and that he wasn't above criticising some of the Doctor's decisions even; unsurprisingly, John was bitterest on the way the Time Lord had handled Donna's meta-crisis.
* * * * * *
Martha was making breakfast a couple of days after their shopping trip when John wandered into the kitchen, fresh from his shower.
"I want to go and see Donna," he told her as he grabbed the kettle to make their coffee.
Startled she looked up from making up a bowl of fruit salad. "What's brought this on?" she asked, once she'd finally found her voice.
He shrugged. "Nothing in particular."
She wasn't convinced: his expression was intense, in a way she hadn't seen before.
"Come on, John, talk to me," she urged quietly as they moved into their customary places at the kitchen table.
"I just want to check she's okay," he told her.
Martha felt there was more to it than that, but she already knew better than to push him: he might be more direct and open than the Doctor, but like the Time Lord (and Donna herself), he had a strong stubborn streak.
"Why don't you ring Wilf and talk to him?" she suggested, "Sylvia must be in the book."
"You don't have to come with me, you know."
"Of course I'll come with you, if you're going," she said immediately, "Donna was my friend too, however briefly."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply she wasn't," he said quickly.
"It's okay," she assured him. "We'll drive over in a couple of hours."
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thanks," he said softly.
"You're welcome."
* * * * * *
They arrived in Donna's quiet Chiswick Street at 10.30 am, then sat in the car for a few minutes while John worked up the courage to go and ring the bell.
"We don't have to do this," Martha told him gently, his right hand in her left. "It's not too late to turn around and go back home."
He shook his head. "We're here now," he said, "and I've got to see her."
"Come on then." She gave his hand a squeeze, then got out of the car, and John followed suit.
They walked across to Sylvia's house hand in hand, and John rang the bell. To their relief it was Wilf who opened the door.
"Doctor Jones, Doctor, what are you doing here?" he said, shocked.
"We've come to see Donna, Mr Mott," Martha said. "This isn't the Doctor, though. This is John, his human counterpart."
He shook his head, looking bewildered. "You'd better come in and explain," he said. "Donna's not here, nor her mother, although I'm expecting Donna back soon." He stood aside and John stepped into the hall, closely followed by Martha, who gave the old man an apologetic smile.
"Come through to the kitchen," Wilf said, "and tell me why you're risking my granddaughter's life. Unless - are you here because you've found a way to fix her memory?" His tone was so hopeful that Martha instantly felt horribly guilty at having to shake her head.
"Shall I make some tea?" she suggested.
Wilf gave her a distracted nod, his eyes fixed on John as they both sat down, and she quietly opened cupboards until she found a teapot, some mugs, teabags and the sugar. She filled the kettle and switched it on.
"What did Dr Jones mean, that you're the Doctor's human counterpart?" asked Wilf.
John began to explain the origins of his 'birth' while Martha made the tea, listening with half an ear.
"Thanks, love," Wilf said absent-mindedly when she set a mug of tea down in front of him; his gaze was still fixed intently on John's face. When the Doctor had brought Donna home to them he hadn't explained anything about the creation of his human counterpart; he'd simply told Wilf and Sylvia about all the fantastic things their girl had done to save others' lives, and to save the Earth when the Daleks came. As the old man listened to the younger one's tale, he could hear the same pride and affection in John's voice as he'd heard in the Doctor's the day the Time Lord had brought Donna home.
"So why are you here?" asked Wilf, when John's narrative drew to a close. "Why aren't you out travelling among the stars with him still?"
"I wanted to do something to help Donna," John said. "I'm sure there must be a way of restoring her memories without killing her, but the Doctor - " he paused, "I think he's too scared of failure to try. We had a big fight about it, and he dumped me here on Earth." He looked away from the old man's intent scrutiny. "I've been getting under Dr Jones' feet ever since."
Wilf looked from John to Martha, who smiled at him. "She doesn't look too bothered about having you around," he observed.
John smiled. "That's because she's a generous and caring young woman," he answered.
"Stop pretending to be a terrible burden," Martha scolded, lightly punching his shoulder.
Wilf hid a smile in his mug. "Do you think you will find a way to restore Donna's memories?" he asked a few moments.
John shrugged. "Honestly? I don't know, but I'm going to keep looking. I miss her too much not to try," he said simply.
Wilf reached over and quickly patted the younger man's hand. "Thank you, son, that means a lot to me."
He began to talk about the business with the ATMOS devices, and Martha listened in fascination; having been unconscious for a time while her clone was running around pretending to be her, she'd missed out on all the drama of Wilf getting trapped in Sylvia's car.
John was in the middle of explaining exactly how the Doctor had burnt away the gas produced by the Sontarans' technology when they all heard the front door closing.
"Quick, that's Donna," Wilf said urgently, "talk about something else."
John looked panicked, so Martha began talking about fundraising for the Royal Hope as Donna came in, looking just as John and Martha remembered.
"Gramps - " she began, then stopped when she saw John and Martha. "Oh sorry, I didn't realise we had visitors." Then she frowned. "Don't I know you?" she asked John, oblivious of the way the others were holding their breath.
"Um, John - " He faltered as he felt Martha squeeze his knee under the table, a reminder not to use the surname he'd chosen since it would cause comment from Donna, "Smith."
Donna nodded. "Yeah, you were here about three months ago, I remember. More of your star-gazing friends, Gramps?" she continued as she got a mug and a jar of coffee out of the cupboard.
"That's right love. I met John, and his girlfriend Martha, up on the allotments," Wilf said, improvising wildly.
"Oh right, that's nice. Don't know why you bother, though, they're only blobs of light."
John and Wilf looked so stricken at this comment that Martha felt obliged to leap into the fray.
"I like that suit," she observed.
"Oh, ta." Donna turned to grin at them. "I don't know why, but I got this sudden hankering for a brown pinstriped suit. I've just been to an interview," she confided.
"How did it go?" asked Martha immediately.
"Good. I think I got it."
"Well done!" Martha squeezed John's knee again, trying to encourage him to speak.
"Congratulations," he said, and she hoped that Donna wouldn't notice how hollow he sounded.
"Well done." Wilf got up to his give his granddaughter a hug. "I'm very proud of you."
Donna gave an embarrassed grin, as if she'd rather not be hugged by him in front of strangers. "Well, I won't know for definite until later if I've got it," she said, disentangling herself to make her coffee. "But if I've have, I'll be starting on January 2."
She gave Martha and John a perfunctory nod, then went out carrying her mug of coffee, and pulling her mobile phone from her jacket pocket with her free hand.
John pushed back his chair. "I can't - " he said brokenly, then hurried out and they heard the front door closing.
Wilf started to get up from his chair again, obviously intending to go after him, but Martha held him back. "It's okay, let him go." She clasped Wilf's hands in hers. "If a way can be found of safely restoring Donna's memories, then he's the one who'll find it."
"He loves her," Wilf said quietly.
Martha nodded. "He sees Donna as a mixture of mother and sister. She and the Doctor are the only family he has, and he cares deeply about her, so it hurts him to see her back to the way she was before she met the Doctor."
"Sylvia wishes that Donna had never met him," Wilf confided.
"What about you?" She had a shrewd idea that she knew what his answer would be.
"I'm glad she met him; she had such fabulous adventures with him, and he unlocked her potential, gave her greater self confidence." He frowned in thought. "And I don't know how to give her that back."
"I'm sorry Mr Mott," Martha said, feeling helpless in the face of his sadness and her inability to do anything.
"Wilf, please."
"Okay, Wilf. I'd better go and find John," she said, getting up and gathering up his coat with her own.
"Where will he have gone?" asked Wilf anxiously.
"I hope he'll be sitting out in my car," she answered as they made their way to the front door. Once there, Martha offered him her hand, but he shook his head and hugged her, then held her by the shoulders. "Look after him, won't you, and yourself?"
She nodded. "I'll do my best," she answered. She fished in her handbag and took out a card. "Here. If you ever need to get in touch, my home and mobile phone numbers are on there."
"Thanks love." He pocketed the card, then opened the front door and watched her cross the road, noticing that John was sitting in Martha's car; the two men exchanged salutes before she drove away.
The journey back to Martha's flat was completed in silence; John huddled, red-eyed, in the passenger seat beside her. She felt bad because she didn't know how to comfort him, and because she had known this visit would make him unhappy and she hadn't tried very hard to dissuade him from going. She let them into the house, and they took off their coats and shoes.
"Do you want some tea?" she asked, knowing it was a bit too early for lunch yet.
"No, thanks." John headed towards her bedroom and she watched him go with a heavy heart.
Half an hour later, after she'd dealt with her emails, he still hadn't reappeared so Martha went to see if he wanted some lunch. She found him curled up on her bed with his eyes closed, and she sat down beside him, putting a hand on his arm.
"I shouldn't have gone," he said, his eyes still closed.
"Maybe not," she answered, lying down on her side, facing him.
He opened his eyes and she guessed from their redness that he'd been crying again; she mentally kicked herself for twice leaving him to grieve alone.
"I'm sorry, John," she said softly, reaching out to stroke his cheek and sideburn with one finger.
"I want my Donna back," he said, his voice choking with emotion.
"I know." She kissed him gently and he moved closer, so she wrapped an arm around him.
"I wish I knew how to persuade the Doctor to do something," he said. "She's got all that potential and she's barely using it. She should be flying around through Time and Space, giving alien trouble-makers what for, and keeping me and the Doctor in order, not temping in some office, even if she is a Super Temp."
Martha smiled, remembering that moment in the ATMOS factory. "When the Doctor comes to get you, we'll both talk to him," she said, "and see if between us we can persuade him to at least investigate the possibilities."
"Would you?" he asked, sounding a little more hopeful.
"Of course," Martha answered. "I'll look up the latest neurology research for you, as well. I know it's not going to give us an exact answer, since this is a unique problem, but it wouldn't hurt to take a look at it."
"Dr Jones, you're a star," he said, fervently, smiling properly.
"What, a big ball of flaming gas?" she asked, doing her best to remain straight faced.
John started to protest that he hadn't meant that at all, when he caught sight of the mirth in her eyes. "Oh you!" he exclaimed, "trying to wind me up."
"Me? Wind you up?" she asked, wearing her most innocent expression, but well aware there was a hint of laughter in her voice.
"Yes, you," he answered and began tickling her.
Martha shrieked and tried to roll away from him, but he pursued her across the bed, his long fingers relentless in tormenting her until they were both flushed and breathless with laughter.
"You're a minx," he told her, his voice a low growl as he loomed over her where she lay on the bed.
She raised a quizzical eyebrow, too short of breath to offer a retort. He growled properly then before ducking his head to kiss her roughly. Martha immediately wrapped her arms around his body, kissing him back with a hunger that surprised her. Her body arched up off the bed so that her groin bumped against his and she moaned when she felt his arousal.
He lowered his body down onto hers, rutting against her and causing her to moan again.
"John!" she gasped, aware that she was growing wet.
"Martha." He reached down between them to fumble with her zip and she pushed at his shoulders.
"This will be quicker and easier if we get undressed properly," she pointed out.
"Always practical, aren't you?" he asked, before nipping at her neck.
"Someone has to be," she retorted.
He rolled off her and onto his back, then began to strip quickly. His shirt and t-shirt were pulled off over his head without any concern for buttons, then he lifted up his bum to shimmy his jeans down onto his legs, before he proceeded to kick his legs wildly until the jeans were at his ankles. Then he hung his lower legs over the edge of the bed and allowed the heavy denim to drop onto the floor.
Martha shook her head, smiling indulgently, as she undressed in a more decorous fashion.
"Too slow," John growled, tugging her jeans down her legs, and dragging off her socks as well.
"Oi, don't rip them!" she exclaimed.
"Oi, don't nag!" he retorted, grinning madly.
She pretended to scowl before sitting up and pulling off her heavy sweater; her underwear she left for him to remove, knowing he sometimes liked to tease her by licking or sucking her skin through the material.
He was obviously too impatient for teasing, this time, though, since he quickly removed both her bra and her knickers, before positioning his body over hers.
"Okay?" he asked, and receiving a nod, he quickly thrust inside her.
Their love-making was faster and rougher than usual, but John made sure that she came with him, his fingers working on her clit to bring her to a climax just as he came himself.
He slumped down on top of her afterwards and she kissed his cheek and stroked his back. "Feeling better?" she asked.
"Yes, thank you." He lifted his head and kissed her tenderly. "Sorry."
"For what?" she asked, puzzled.
"Well, for using you to make myself feel better."
"I don't feel used," she answered, "and anyway, I wanted this as much as you did." He looked doubtful. "I mean it," she assured him, before kissing him in turn.
They made love again, more slowly and tenderly the second time, and Martha couldn't help thinking that she could get used to this, given the chance, but she pushed the thought aside: it was no use thinking about that.
* * * * * *
After lunch Martha pulled out her medical journals, and she and John settled down to work through them, both armed with a notepad and pen to record any potential leads. As they worked, Martha tried not to let her thoughts distract her, but she occasionally found her mind wandering to compare the differences between living with the Doctor in 1969 and living with John now. The alienness of the Time Lord had been far more noticeable when they'd been living a day to day life 'on the slow path' as he'd called it, than when they'd been bouncing back and forth through Space and Time. John, on the other hand, was incredibly human: she couldn't really imagine the Doctor crying as openly as John did, or actually making love to anyone (not even to Rose). Martha wondered how much of this was down to Donna - she couldn't think of anyone who exuded humanity to quite such a degree as the redhead had done when they'd known each other.
* * * * * *
By 5pm it was dark outside and they were both feeling a little weary after so many hours poring over Martha's journals.
"Let's go for a walk," John said, when Martha suggested coffee before she cooked dinner.
"A walk?" she asked.
"Yes, you know, that thing you do on your feet: stroll, perambulate, promenade, saunter, meander - "
"Okay, I do know what it means," she said, stopping him before he work his way through every synonym possible.
"Well, then?"
"Where are we going?"
"Outside, into the fresh, well fresh-ish, air. But nowhere in particular," he added, when she opened her mouth to speak. "Just out for a walk."
She shook her head, but he could see a smile teasing her mouth. "All right then, Mr Noble, if that's what you want to do, we'll go out for a walk."
"Thank you kindly Dr Jones." He stood up and bowed in a very exaggerated fashion, and she laughed.
They bundled themselves up in boots, coats, scarves, gloves and woolly hats, then John tugged on Martha's hand like an eager boy, almost dragging her from the house and out into the still snowy streets.
"Isn't this fun?" he asked, huffing madly to make his breath emerge in great clouds of vapour.
She laughed. As a rule she didn't particularly enjoy snow, but John's child-like enthusiasm for it was somehow contagious. "Yes it is fun," she agreed, wrapping her arm through his.
"Is there a park near here?" he asked as they set off along the street.
"Yes. If we walk to the end of this road, then turn left and it's at the end of the next road."
"Good! I want to see the snow on the trees."
They made desultory small talk as they walked, and Martha thought again that she could get used to this, but she told herself that it was silly to think of it.
Once at the park, John swept snow from a bench with his mittened hand, then sat down to stare at the trees. He gently pulled Martha into his lap, and she sat down sideways, one arm around his neck, while he wrapped his arms around her waist.
After a few minutes they both started to feel the cold and John stood up, carrying Martha.
"I can walk you know!" she said, laughing. "Besides, you wouldn't want to carry me far."
"Spoilsport," he said, pouting at her in an exaggerated fashion.
"Silly man." She kissed his forehead, before he set her down on her feet. As soon as she was steady, he ducked his head and kissed her soundly.
"It's too cold to do this here," she said when he released her.
"True," he agreed, but she thought he sounded reluctant.
"Come on," she said gently. "You had hypothermia a few days ago, remember? Don't want you going through that again, or anything else to make you sick."
"Yes Doctor." He offered her a salute, which made her grin, then pulled her arm through his and they set off to walk the long way back to Martha's flat, since John was interested in seeing the area immediately surrounding her street.
Once back at the flat, they made dinner together, then ate and washed up before settling down in front of the TV, with John lying full length along Martha's sofa, his neck resting on her right thigh, and her right hand idly stroking his hair until he was practically purring with pleasure. As they watched re-runs of old Christmas specials by the likes of Morecambe and Wise and The Two Ronnies, she realised that she was feeling quite content, and she silently thanked the Doctor for ditching John on Earth.
Title: Sorrow and Joy
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Human-Doctor, Donna, Wilf
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Journey's End (AU)
Summary: The Human-Doctor and Martha visit Donna Noble
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish that I did own it!
Author Notes: This fic is a holiday gift for radiantbaby - Happy Holidays hon, and thanks for sharing the Who love with me! It's a "missing scene" for Down and Out at Christmas insofar as it's set during the 12 days covered by that story.
Beta: The lovely fourzoas
~~~~~~
December 26
Martha and John were up early on the morning of Boxing Day, preparing to brave the madness of the sales so that they could get him some spare clothes; she didn't like the idea of him only having the clothes in which he stood up, particularly since they didn't know when the Doctor would return for him.
"Time to introduce you to some of Earth's weirder customs," Martha said as they ate toast and drank coffee.
"Did you know that on Projada they only allow retailers to open for 4 hours a day, four times a week during the sale season?" John asked.
She frowned. "Sounds a bit restrictive," she commented.
He shook his head. "Nah, 'cos it means that the staff get to spend time with their families as well. 'sides, you remember how frantic the Spring sale season was, when you were working in the shop in 1969?" She nodded emphatically. "Well, imagine that in 21st century terms - four hours would be enough, wouldn't it?"
"More than enough," Martha answered with feeling.
"There you go then! The Projadans are actually being very practical and sensible about the whole thing."
She smiled at him.
"What?" he asked, sounding slightly nervous.
"I'm just thinking that I can't imagine the Doctor on Projada during a sale."
"Oh." His expression was inscrutable as he got up, put his plate and mug in the sink, then went out; Martha heard the bathroom door closing.
"Nice one, Martha," she muttered, annoyed with herself for bringing up the Doctor in such a way. Yesterday it had been her intention to ring the Time Lord today to find out if he was going to come and fetch John, but after last night she felt less inclined to do so. She couldn't help feeling it wouldn't hurt for him to have some time alone to consider his cavalier behaviour towards his companion.
When John came out of the bathroom, she was in the hall. "Here," she said, holding out her blue and red ski jacket to him.
"Thanks." He took it, then ducked his head to kiss her cheek. "Sorry," he said softly.
"What for?" she asked.
"Being touchy on the subject of the Doctor." He pulled on the ski jacket.
"Silly man," she said, placing her right hand on his chest for balance as she stood on tiptoes to kiss him. "It's perfectly understandable. Now, let's get going or we won't be back until bedtime." She reached up and took down her own coat, and John automatically moved to help her put it on.
"Do we have to go?" John asked, a playful smirk on his face as she looked over her shoulder at him. "If we stay in bed, I won't need any more clothes than the ones I've got."
Martha blushed. "John!" she protested. "We can't spend all our time in bed until the Doctor comes to fetch you."
"Why not?" he asked, turning her around and sliding his hands down to cup her bottom, her body pressed against his.
"It would be the height of laziness," Martha answered, acutely aware of his arousal.
He smirked again. "You wouldn't get that much rest," he told her.
"John!" She was aware that what she'd intended to be a firm protest had come out more like a breathy moan, which made him smirk even more. She gently, but reluctantly, pulled herself free.
"Be a good boy," she admonished, then smirked up at him, "Maybe you'll get a reward then."
"Tease," he growled, but he zipped up his borrowed coat.
"Pot, kettle," she retorted, dancing out of his reach when he tried to swat her bottom. She stuck her tongue out at him, giggling at the surprised expression this provoked.
"How old are you, Dr Jones?" he asked, catching up with her at the door.
"As old as my tongue and - "
"A little older than my teeth," he chimed in, grinning.
"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand. "No more shilly-shallying. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back."
"Can't argue with that logic," he agreed.
* * * * * *
They got back at 11.30 am, both of them feeling fairly frazzled by their shopping experience. They shed their coats and shoes in the hall, then carried their bags of shopping through into Martha's room. John flopped down onto the bed in an untidy sprawl.
"Pray hold me up for fear I swoon, for I am like to die," he declaimed, rather melodramatically, Martha thought.
"Fool man," she said affectionately as she sat down beside him and lifted up her left foot. She rested the ankle on her right knee, then began to massage it; an impatient and bad-tempered woman in four inch heels had stood on it while they had both been queuing to pay in House of Fraser.
"Your foot okay?" John asked solicitously.
"Bit sore," Martha answered.
"Let's have a look then." He sat up again and she turned towards him. He moved her foot across onto his lap and gently removed the sock, then cradled it in both hands.
"Ouch," he said softly, looking at the bruise that was already forming where the woman's heel had landed. He lifted her foot and softly kissed the top of it, on the sore spot, which provoked a giggle from Martha. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Dr Jones, are you laughing at my treatment of your injury?"
"Maybe," she said, smirking. "You must admit, I'm a bit old for the 'kiss it better' treatment."
"On the contrary, I think you're exactly the right age," he said, putting her foot aside and leaning forward. He lifted his hands to cup her face and kissed her deeply, eliciting a moan which prompted him to lift her onto his lap without breaking their kiss.
"Show off," she teased when she pulled away to catch her breath again.
"Who me?" he asked, trying and failing to look innocent.
"Yes, you."
He shook his head, then kissed her again, sliding his hands underneath her jumper and t-shirt to stroke her bare skin.
"John!"
"Hmm?" He was nuzzling her neck now, while his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples through her bra.
Martha moaned, arching her back and feeling her arousal growing. "Please!"
"Is that 'Please don't', or 'Please don't stop'?" he asked, lifting his head to look at her; her eyes were closed and her lips parted.
"Please give me more," she answered, opening her eyes and unveiling her desire.
"Gladly." He smiled sweetly at her, then lifted her jumper and t-shirt off.
Within a few minutes she was naked and John was sliding his fingers into her while kissing and sucking on her breasts. He brought her to orgasm twice and as she lay gasping for breath after the second one, he quickly undressed.
"Okay?" he asked as he moved his body over hers.
"Yes." She hooked one leg over his hip as he pushed inside her, wrapping one arm around his torso and the other around his neck so she could pull his head down to kiss him.
Later, while John was in the bathroom, Martha wondered whether she was doing the right thing, getting involved with him, or if she was just using him as a substitute for the Doctor. She hadn't had much inclination for dating after her travels with the Time Lord, but that was a result of the year she'd spent walking the world, rather than any continued hankering after the Doctor: between looking after her family and dealing with her own trauma, she'd had no time or energy for anyone else.
Martha didn't think she was using John as a substitute: he might look like the Doctor, but he wasn't the same man, even if you left aside the fact he was a human, not a Time Lord. She had quickly learned that he was far more open and direct about his feelings, and that he wasn't above criticising some of the Doctor's decisions even; unsurprisingly, John was bitterest on the way the Time Lord had handled Donna's meta-crisis.
* * * * * *
Martha was making breakfast a couple of days after their shopping trip when John wandered into the kitchen, fresh from his shower.
"I want to go and see Donna," he told her as he grabbed the kettle to make their coffee.
Startled she looked up from making up a bowl of fruit salad. "What's brought this on?" she asked, once she'd finally found her voice.
He shrugged. "Nothing in particular."
She wasn't convinced: his expression was intense, in a way she hadn't seen before.
"Come on, John, talk to me," she urged quietly as they moved into their customary places at the kitchen table.
"I just want to check she's okay," he told her.
Martha felt there was more to it than that, but she already knew better than to push him: he might be more direct and open than the Doctor, but like the Time Lord (and Donna herself), he had a strong stubborn streak.
"Why don't you ring Wilf and talk to him?" she suggested, "Sylvia must be in the book."
"You don't have to come with me, you know."
"Of course I'll come with you, if you're going," she said immediately, "Donna was my friend too, however briefly."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply she wasn't," he said quickly.
"It's okay," she assured him. "We'll drive over in a couple of hours."
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thanks," he said softly.
"You're welcome."
* * * * * *
They arrived in Donna's quiet Chiswick Street at 10.30 am, then sat in the car for a few minutes while John worked up the courage to go and ring the bell.
"We don't have to do this," Martha told him gently, his right hand in her left. "It's not too late to turn around and go back home."
He shook his head. "We're here now," he said, "and I've got to see her."
"Come on then." She gave his hand a squeeze, then got out of the car, and John followed suit.
They walked across to Sylvia's house hand in hand, and John rang the bell. To their relief it was Wilf who opened the door.
"Doctor Jones, Doctor, what are you doing here?" he said, shocked.
"We've come to see Donna, Mr Mott," Martha said. "This isn't the Doctor, though. This is John, his human counterpart."
He shook his head, looking bewildered. "You'd better come in and explain," he said. "Donna's not here, nor her mother, although I'm expecting Donna back soon." He stood aside and John stepped into the hall, closely followed by Martha, who gave the old man an apologetic smile.
"Come through to the kitchen," Wilf said, "and tell me why you're risking my granddaughter's life. Unless - are you here because you've found a way to fix her memory?" His tone was so hopeful that Martha instantly felt horribly guilty at having to shake her head.
"Shall I make some tea?" she suggested.
Wilf gave her a distracted nod, his eyes fixed on John as they both sat down, and she quietly opened cupboards until she found a teapot, some mugs, teabags and the sugar. She filled the kettle and switched it on.
"What did Dr Jones mean, that you're the Doctor's human counterpart?" asked Wilf.
John began to explain the origins of his 'birth' while Martha made the tea, listening with half an ear.
"Thanks, love," Wilf said absent-mindedly when she set a mug of tea down in front of him; his gaze was still fixed intently on John's face. When the Doctor had brought Donna home to them he hadn't explained anything about the creation of his human counterpart; he'd simply told Wilf and Sylvia about all the fantastic things their girl had done to save others' lives, and to save the Earth when the Daleks came. As the old man listened to the younger one's tale, he could hear the same pride and affection in John's voice as he'd heard in the Doctor's the day the Time Lord had brought Donna home.
"So why are you here?" asked Wilf, when John's narrative drew to a close. "Why aren't you out travelling among the stars with him still?"
"I wanted to do something to help Donna," John said. "I'm sure there must be a way of restoring her memories without killing her, but the Doctor - " he paused, "I think he's too scared of failure to try. We had a big fight about it, and he dumped me here on Earth." He looked away from the old man's intent scrutiny. "I've been getting under Dr Jones' feet ever since."
Wilf looked from John to Martha, who smiled at him. "She doesn't look too bothered about having you around," he observed.
John smiled. "That's because she's a generous and caring young woman," he answered.
"Stop pretending to be a terrible burden," Martha scolded, lightly punching his shoulder.
Wilf hid a smile in his mug. "Do you think you will find a way to restore Donna's memories?" he asked a few moments.
John shrugged. "Honestly? I don't know, but I'm going to keep looking. I miss her too much not to try," he said simply.
Wilf reached over and quickly patted the younger man's hand. "Thank you, son, that means a lot to me."
He began to talk about the business with the ATMOS devices, and Martha listened in fascination; having been unconscious for a time while her clone was running around pretending to be her, she'd missed out on all the drama of Wilf getting trapped in Sylvia's car.
John was in the middle of explaining exactly how the Doctor had burnt away the gas produced by the Sontarans' technology when they all heard the front door closing.
"Quick, that's Donna," Wilf said urgently, "talk about something else."
John looked panicked, so Martha began talking about fundraising for the Royal Hope as Donna came in, looking just as John and Martha remembered.
"Gramps - " she began, then stopped when she saw John and Martha. "Oh sorry, I didn't realise we had visitors." Then she frowned. "Don't I know you?" she asked John, oblivious of the way the others were holding their breath.
"Um, John - " He faltered as he felt Martha squeeze his knee under the table, a reminder not to use the surname he'd chosen since it would cause comment from Donna, "Smith."
Donna nodded. "Yeah, you were here about three months ago, I remember. More of your star-gazing friends, Gramps?" she continued as she got a mug and a jar of coffee out of the cupboard.
"That's right love. I met John, and his girlfriend Martha, up on the allotments," Wilf said, improvising wildly.
"Oh right, that's nice. Don't know why you bother, though, they're only blobs of light."
John and Wilf looked so stricken at this comment that Martha felt obliged to leap into the fray.
"I like that suit," she observed.
"Oh, ta." Donna turned to grin at them. "I don't know why, but I got this sudden hankering for a brown pinstriped suit. I've just been to an interview," she confided.
"How did it go?" asked Martha immediately.
"Good. I think I got it."
"Well done!" Martha squeezed John's knee again, trying to encourage him to speak.
"Congratulations," he said, and she hoped that Donna wouldn't notice how hollow he sounded.
"Well done." Wilf got up to his give his granddaughter a hug. "I'm very proud of you."
Donna gave an embarrassed grin, as if she'd rather not be hugged by him in front of strangers. "Well, I won't know for definite until later if I've got it," she said, disentangling herself to make her coffee. "But if I've have, I'll be starting on January 2."
She gave Martha and John a perfunctory nod, then went out carrying her mug of coffee, and pulling her mobile phone from her jacket pocket with her free hand.
John pushed back his chair. "I can't - " he said brokenly, then hurried out and they heard the front door closing.
Wilf started to get up from his chair again, obviously intending to go after him, but Martha held him back. "It's okay, let him go." She clasped Wilf's hands in hers. "If a way can be found of safely restoring Donna's memories, then he's the one who'll find it."
"He loves her," Wilf said quietly.
Martha nodded. "He sees Donna as a mixture of mother and sister. She and the Doctor are the only family he has, and he cares deeply about her, so it hurts him to see her back to the way she was before she met the Doctor."
"Sylvia wishes that Donna had never met him," Wilf confided.
"What about you?" She had a shrewd idea that she knew what his answer would be.
"I'm glad she met him; she had such fabulous adventures with him, and he unlocked her potential, gave her greater self confidence." He frowned in thought. "And I don't know how to give her that back."
"I'm sorry Mr Mott," Martha said, feeling helpless in the face of his sadness and her inability to do anything.
"Wilf, please."
"Okay, Wilf. I'd better go and find John," she said, getting up and gathering up his coat with her own.
"Where will he have gone?" asked Wilf anxiously.
"I hope he'll be sitting out in my car," she answered as they made their way to the front door. Once there, Martha offered him her hand, but he shook his head and hugged her, then held her by the shoulders. "Look after him, won't you, and yourself?"
She nodded. "I'll do my best," she answered. She fished in her handbag and took out a card. "Here. If you ever need to get in touch, my home and mobile phone numbers are on there."
"Thanks love." He pocketed the card, then opened the front door and watched her cross the road, noticing that John was sitting in Martha's car; the two men exchanged salutes before she drove away.
The journey back to Martha's flat was completed in silence; John huddled, red-eyed, in the passenger seat beside her. She felt bad because she didn't know how to comfort him, and because she had known this visit would make him unhappy and she hadn't tried very hard to dissuade him from going. She let them into the house, and they took off their coats and shoes.
"Do you want some tea?" she asked, knowing it was a bit too early for lunch yet.
"No, thanks." John headed towards her bedroom and she watched him go with a heavy heart.
Half an hour later, after she'd dealt with her emails, he still hadn't reappeared so Martha went to see if he wanted some lunch. She found him curled up on her bed with his eyes closed, and she sat down beside him, putting a hand on his arm.
"I shouldn't have gone," he said, his eyes still closed.
"Maybe not," she answered, lying down on her side, facing him.
He opened his eyes and she guessed from their redness that he'd been crying again; she mentally kicked herself for twice leaving him to grieve alone.
"I'm sorry, John," she said softly, reaching out to stroke his cheek and sideburn with one finger.
"I want my Donna back," he said, his voice choking with emotion.
"I know." She kissed him gently and he moved closer, so she wrapped an arm around him.
"I wish I knew how to persuade the Doctor to do something," he said. "She's got all that potential and she's barely using it. She should be flying around through Time and Space, giving alien trouble-makers what for, and keeping me and the Doctor in order, not temping in some office, even if she is a Super Temp."
Martha smiled, remembering that moment in the ATMOS factory. "When the Doctor comes to get you, we'll both talk to him," she said, "and see if between us we can persuade him to at least investigate the possibilities."
"Would you?" he asked, sounding a little more hopeful.
"Of course," Martha answered. "I'll look up the latest neurology research for you, as well. I know it's not going to give us an exact answer, since this is a unique problem, but it wouldn't hurt to take a look at it."
"Dr Jones, you're a star," he said, fervently, smiling properly.
"What, a big ball of flaming gas?" she asked, doing her best to remain straight faced.
John started to protest that he hadn't meant that at all, when he caught sight of the mirth in her eyes. "Oh you!" he exclaimed, "trying to wind me up."
"Me? Wind you up?" she asked, wearing her most innocent expression, but well aware there was a hint of laughter in her voice.
"Yes, you," he answered and began tickling her.
Martha shrieked and tried to roll away from him, but he pursued her across the bed, his long fingers relentless in tormenting her until they were both flushed and breathless with laughter.
"You're a minx," he told her, his voice a low growl as he loomed over her where she lay on the bed.
She raised a quizzical eyebrow, too short of breath to offer a retort. He growled properly then before ducking his head to kiss her roughly. Martha immediately wrapped her arms around his body, kissing him back with a hunger that surprised her. Her body arched up off the bed so that her groin bumped against his and she moaned when she felt his arousal.
He lowered his body down onto hers, rutting against her and causing her to moan again.
"John!" she gasped, aware that she was growing wet.
"Martha." He reached down between them to fumble with her zip and she pushed at his shoulders.
"This will be quicker and easier if we get undressed properly," she pointed out.
"Always practical, aren't you?" he asked, before nipping at her neck.
"Someone has to be," she retorted.
He rolled off her and onto his back, then began to strip quickly. His shirt and t-shirt were pulled off over his head without any concern for buttons, then he lifted up his bum to shimmy his jeans down onto his legs, before he proceeded to kick his legs wildly until the jeans were at his ankles. Then he hung his lower legs over the edge of the bed and allowed the heavy denim to drop onto the floor.
Martha shook her head, smiling indulgently, as she undressed in a more decorous fashion.
"Too slow," John growled, tugging her jeans down her legs, and dragging off her socks as well.
"Oi, don't rip them!" she exclaimed.
"Oi, don't nag!" he retorted, grinning madly.
She pretended to scowl before sitting up and pulling off her heavy sweater; her underwear she left for him to remove, knowing he sometimes liked to tease her by licking or sucking her skin through the material.
He was obviously too impatient for teasing, this time, though, since he quickly removed both her bra and her knickers, before positioning his body over hers.
"Okay?" he asked, and receiving a nod, he quickly thrust inside her.
Their love-making was faster and rougher than usual, but John made sure that she came with him, his fingers working on her clit to bring her to a climax just as he came himself.
He slumped down on top of her afterwards and she kissed his cheek and stroked his back. "Feeling better?" she asked.
"Yes, thank you." He lifted his head and kissed her tenderly. "Sorry."
"For what?" she asked, puzzled.
"Well, for using you to make myself feel better."
"I don't feel used," she answered, "and anyway, I wanted this as much as you did." He looked doubtful. "I mean it," she assured him, before kissing him in turn.
They made love again, more slowly and tenderly the second time, and Martha couldn't help thinking that she could get used to this, given the chance, but she pushed the thought aside: it was no use thinking about that.
* * * * * *
After lunch Martha pulled out her medical journals, and she and John settled down to work through them, both armed with a notepad and pen to record any potential leads. As they worked, Martha tried not to let her thoughts distract her, but she occasionally found her mind wandering to compare the differences between living with the Doctor in 1969 and living with John now. The alienness of the Time Lord had been far more noticeable when they'd been living a day to day life 'on the slow path' as he'd called it, than when they'd been bouncing back and forth through Space and Time. John, on the other hand, was incredibly human: she couldn't really imagine the Doctor crying as openly as John did, or actually making love to anyone (not even to Rose). Martha wondered how much of this was down to Donna - she couldn't think of anyone who exuded humanity to quite such a degree as the redhead had done when they'd known each other.
* * * * * *
By 5pm it was dark outside and they were both feeling a little weary after so many hours poring over Martha's journals.
"Let's go for a walk," John said, when Martha suggested coffee before she cooked dinner.
"A walk?" she asked.
"Yes, you know, that thing you do on your feet: stroll, perambulate, promenade, saunter, meander - "
"Okay, I do know what it means," she said, stopping him before he work his way through every synonym possible.
"Well, then?"
"Where are we going?"
"Outside, into the fresh, well fresh-ish, air. But nowhere in particular," he added, when she opened her mouth to speak. "Just out for a walk."
She shook her head, but he could see a smile teasing her mouth. "All right then, Mr Noble, if that's what you want to do, we'll go out for a walk."
"Thank you kindly Dr Jones." He stood up and bowed in a very exaggerated fashion, and she laughed.
They bundled themselves up in boots, coats, scarves, gloves and woolly hats, then John tugged on Martha's hand like an eager boy, almost dragging her from the house and out into the still snowy streets.
"Isn't this fun?" he asked, huffing madly to make his breath emerge in great clouds of vapour.
She laughed. As a rule she didn't particularly enjoy snow, but John's child-like enthusiasm for it was somehow contagious. "Yes it is fun," she agreed, wrapping her arm through his.
"Is there a park near here?" he asked as they set off along the street.
"Yes. If we walk to the end of this road, then turn left and it's at the end of the next road."
"Good! I want to see the snow on the trees."
They made desultory small talk as they walked, and Martha thought again that she could get used to this, but she told herself that it was silly to think of it.
Once at the park, John swept snow from a bench with his mittened hand, then sat down to stare at the trees. He gently pulled Martha into his lap, and she sat down sideways, one arm around his neck, while he wrapped his arms around her waist.
After a few minutes they both started to feel the cold and John stood up, carrying Martha.
"I can walk you know!" she said, laughing. "Besides, you wouldn't want to carry me far."
"Spoilsport," he said, pouting at her in an exaggerated fashion.
"Silly man." She kissed his forehead, before he set her down on her feet. As soon as she was steady, he ducked his head and kissed her soundly.
"It's too cold to do this here," she said when he released her.
"True," he agreed, but she thought he sounded reluctant.
"Come on," she said gently. "You had hypothermia a few days ago, remember? Don't want you going through that again, or anything else to make you sick."
"Yes Doctor." He offered her a salute, which made her grin, then pulled her arm through his and they set off to walk the long way back to Martha's flat, since John was interested in seeing the area immediately surrounding her street.
Once back at the flat, they made dinner together, then ate and washed up before settling down in front of the TV, with John lying full length along Martha's sofa, his neck resting on her right thigh, and her right hand idly stroking his hair until he was practically purring with pleasure. As they watched re-runs of old Christmas specials by the likes of Morecambe and Wise and The Two Ronnies, she realised that she was feeling quite content, and she silently thanked the Doctor for ditching John on Earth.