Loss
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/271195.html">Loss by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha/Nighy!Eleven | Rating: PG-13 | Spoilers: None - AU Post-S4)
Title: Loss
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Nighy!Eleven, OCs
Rating: PG-13 (somewhat graphic medical scenes)
Spoilers: None (AU Post-S4)
Summary: Martha and the Doctor do their best to help survivors of a bad accident.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish that I did own it!
Author Notes: The latest of my Whoniverse fics for 20_est_relships. The prompt was 08. Loss (Prompt table here and timeline here).
Beta: the inestimable fourzoas
~~~~~~
Fic banner by mischief89
The Doctor stepped into the large tent that was being used as a field hospital, his eyes going straight to Martha. Her clothes were dirty and bloodstained, and she’d tied her hair back, but odd strands had escaped and were straggling around her face as she worked.
He felt a surge of pride and admiration for her; they’d arrived at the spaceport at lunch time, only intending to make a brief stay while they got some food supplies, but they had found things in chaos as an overloaded crane had toppled onto one of the buildings that was going up at the far side of the spaceport, injuring a number of passers-by as well as the workers. Martha had immediately insisted on offering her assistance after finding out where those who needed medical attention were being treated - not that he’d have dreamt of standing in her way. As soon as he’d seen her to the field hospital he’d gone to offer what assistance he could in clearing the rubble and bringing the wounded and dead out of the collapsed building.
Martha had a saw in her hand and was cutting through the bone of a woman’s left leg, her movements quick and deft. He knew that speed was of the essence when someone was as badly injured as this woman: her lower leg was horribly mangled with shards of bone sticking through the torn skin in several places. He swallowed down a host of emotions at the sight, his eyes fixed firmly on Martha’s unhesitating movements, but he couldn’t help noticing there was a deathly grey tinge to the unconscious woman’s skin, and the Doctor wondered if she would survive the amputation - not that he doubted for a second that Martha wouldn’t do her very best to see that her patient did survive, but the trauma might still kill her.
As he watched, Martha finished cutting away the damaged leg, and a young man waiting by the end of the bed removed it, while she concentrated on staunching the bleeding, then sewing the flap of skin that she’d left over the stump to protect it from infection and, hopefully, speed the healing. Her face, in profile, had never looked more beautiful to his eyes: her expression of fierce determination and intense concentration clearly conveyed to him that she was doing what she did best - helping to heal others. He held himself very still as he waited for her to finish, though he longed to rush over and pull her into his arms, to hold her and tell her how very proud of her he felt.
Finally the last stitch was put in place, and the young man passed Martha gauze, tape and a bandage so that the stump could be dressed. As she straightened up the Doctor abruptly realised that Martha looked almost exhausted as he felt; they’d been working for more than five hours, and he knew without question that Martha would not have stopped her ministrations unless it was absolutely necessary. He and the other rescue workers had found no more survivors during the last half hour that they’d been working, and he could see that the woman whose leg Martha had just amputated was the last patient in here - the remainder of the tent’s occupants were all lying in their makeshift beds, bandaged and exhausted, but alive.
As Martha straightened up and peeled off her bloodstained gloves he crossed the few feet that separated them, and she turned with a weary expression that brightened momentarily at the sight of the Doctor.
“Hello,” he said softly, brushing the errant hairs from her face.
“Hello yourself,” she answered, then frowned. “Are you okay?”
He followed the direction of her gaze and saw the bloodstains on his suit and shirt. “It’s not mine,” he assured her quickly, “just from the wounded. You look exhausted.”
“You do know how to flatter a woman, Mr Smith,” Martha said with a half smile.
He kissed her forehead. “I wouldn’t dream of wasting flattery on you, Dr Jones,” he said. “Let’s go and see about a bath, some food and some rest.”
She gave a half moan. “That would be bliss,” she said, allowing him to lead her out of the tent. “Are we going back to the TARDIS?”
He shook his head. “Not unless you want to,” he said. “I was thinking of heading to the hotel on the other side of the spaceport.”
“Okay.”
Ten minutes later the Doctor unlocked the door to a large, comfortable looking suite that was decorated in cream and pale blue.
“I’ll order room service,” he said, “but let’s have that bath first.”
“Yes please,” Martha groaned. Her clothes were sticky with blood and sweat, and she longed to pull them off.
He took her hand and led her into the ensuite bathroom, where they undressed as quickly as their aching bodies allowed, and then they sank into the hot, bubbly water with a sense of relief.
“What’s the death toll?” Martha asked as the Doctor sat down behind her and pulled her back against his chest.
“At the last count, 35,” he answered softly, gently rubbing his hands up and down her arms.
She sighed heavily. “It could have been worse,” she said, “and it still might be. I’m not sure everyone I’ve treated today will actually survive.”
“I’m positive that you did the best you could,” he said, picking up the sponge and beginning to wash her neck and shoulders. “Lean forward.”
Martha shuffled forward slightly so the Doctor could get at her back and sighed with pleasure as the hot water began to ease her aching muscles.
They didn’t talk much after that, each of them concentrating on washing the other and letting their gentle touches speak for them. Eventually, though, the water cooled, so they climbed out of the bath, dried off, and wrapped themselves in the bathrobes provided by the hotel.
“How hungry are you?” asked the Doctor as he picked up the phone to ring for room service.
“Pretty ravenous, actually,” Martha answered.
He nodded and spoke to the receptionist, repeating the details of what was available to Martha before ordering for them both.
“It’ll be about twenty minutes,” he told her after he put down the phone.
“’kay.” Martha was sprawled on her back on the bed, and the Doctor sat down next to her.
“Fancy a cuddle?” he asked.
“Please.”
He heard a slight catch in her voice, and he shifted to lie down beside her, then wrapped his arms around her.
”You did the best you could,” he assured her softly. “I’m quite sure the number of fatalities would be much higher if you hadn’t been there to help the other two doctors.”
“Maybe,” she answered quietly.
He kissed her forehead, rubbing one hand up and down her spine. “Definitely,” he said.
They lay in silence, each deep in their own thoughts, until a knock on the door alerted them to the arrival of room service. The Doctor unwrapped his arms from Martha and went to the door, fastening the belt of his robe as he moved. He brought the trolley inside the room, thanking the member of staff, and moved it across to the small table by the window as Martha pushed herself up from the bed.
“You okay?” he asked her anxiously, seeing how worn out she looked.
She nodded. “I just need some food and some sleep,” she said as she sat down opposite the Time Lord.
“Food, first, then.” He served her generous portions of the baked fish pie, minted potatoes, and green vegetables, then piled more onto his own plate.
They ate hungrily, speaking little until they were eating generous portions of fresh fruit salad and ice cream for their dessert.
“If you want to stay here for a couple of days, we can.”
Martha looked up, her spoon half way to her mouth, then smiled sweetly. “Thank you. I would like to stay for at least a day or two, just to see how people get on. I’m concerned about Liddy.”
“Liddy?”
“The woman whose leg I amputated,” she explained. “I’m worried she won’t survive: the shock might still kill her, or the wound could get infected.”
He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “Then we’ll stay, until we know one way or the other,” he said.
“Thank you.” Martha finished her dessert and accepted a mug of tea from the Doctor who wheeled the trolley with the rest of their dinner things over to the door and left it outside, then they settled on the bed while they drank their tea.
“Do you want a massage before you sleep?” asked the Doctor.
She leant against his shoulder. “No, no need to wear yourself out. You must be even more tired than I am, after all your hard work.”
“I’m not too tired to give you a massage, though,” he assured her.
“Save it for the morning,” Martha suggested. “I’ll appreciate it more then.”
“Very well Dr Jones.”
She put aside her mug and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning in for a tender kiss. The Doctor smiled and helped her out of her robe, then pulled off his own and they settled onto the bed, both ready for sleep.
* * * * * *
For the next two days Martha continued to help the spaceport’s medical staff in looking after the injured, while the Doctor helped with clearing the rubble of the damaged building and bringing out the bodies of those who hadn’t survived.
Then, on the third morning, Martha discovered that Liddy’s upper left leg was looking swollen and discoloured, and the superficial veins over her thigh and hip were far more visible than usual. Martha swore silently to herself, recognising the signs of DVT, then she hurried to find her two colleagues to discover what blood-thinning drugs they had available since a hospital had yet to be built in the spaceport, which was why they were working in a tent.
“Dr Beck!” Martha called, spotting him talking to one of the nurses.
He looked up. “Dr Jones. What is it?” he asked quickly when he saw the concerned expression she wore.
“It looks as if Miss Daviot is developing DVT. Do we have any blood-thinning drugs we can get her started on while I test her blood’s clotting ability?”
His normally genial expression turned anxious. “I’m not sure if we do,” he answered. “Dr Hart will know, though. She’s been keeping the drug inventory.”
“Where is she?” asked Martha, who hadn’t seen the red-haired doctor yet this morning.
“She should be here any minute,” Dr Beck answered, ruffling his dark hair in an anxious gesture that had grown familiar to her over the last few days. (It reminded her of the Doctor’s previous incarnation, which she had initially found distracting.)
Martha nodded. “I’ll go and draw some of Miss Daviot’s blood to begin testing the activity of the blood clotting factors.”
“I’ll let Dr Hart know you want to speak to her as soon as she arrives,” he said.
Martha hurried back to Liddy’s bed and was alarmed to see her patient clutching at her chest as she gasped for breath. Swallowing down a curse, Martha helped Liddy to sit up, then shoved some extra pillows under her head and shoulders.
“Here,” she said, holding a glass of water to Liddy’s mouth and carefully helping her to drink it.
“Thank you,” gasped the older woman, lying back against the pillows with a sigh. “My leg hurts.” Her face was marked by lines of pain and Martha felt her heart clench in anguish.
“I know,” she said softly. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to take some blood from you.”
Liddy nodded and lifted her arm without being asked, only wincing slightly when Martha slipped the needle into her arm.
“We’re going to have to put you on some more medication,” Martha told her. “Hopefully that will help your leg to stop hurting.”
There was a resigned expression in Liddy’s eyes as she acknowledged Martha’s words, and the young doctor squeezed her hand tightly before heading towards Dr Beck.
“Ah, Dr Jones, I’ve just spoken to Dr Hart, and she says that we don’t have any blood thinning drugs available.”
“Where’s the nearest place we could get some?” asked Martha promptly.
“Over in Storman - twenty miles away,” answered Dr Beck.
She scowled. “I’m going to find my friend,” she told him. “I’ll ask him to go over there and get some.” He nodded and she hurried out in search of the Doctor.
Martha found the Time Lord talking to the chief engineer about plans to rebuild the damaged building, and as soon as he saw her anxious expression he excused himself and took her arm, leading her aside.
“What is it?” he asked quickly.
”It’s Liddy. She seems to be developing Deep Vein Thrombosis. I desperately need some blood thinning drugs, but the nearest place we can get them is Storman, and that’s twenty miles away.”
“I can bring some from the TARDIS,” the Doctor said promptly.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Martha looked relieved. “I need to use the Medical Bay so I can test Liddy’s blood - check its clotting tendency,” she elaborated, seeing a puzzled expression in his blue eyes. “We’ve no equipment in the field hospital for something so complex.”
He nodded his understanding. “I’ll round up a couple of horses and we’ll go together,” he said.
“Okay.” Martha waited while the Doctor made his excuses to the chief engineer - a tall, brawny woman whose name she didn’t know - and then allowed him to lead her to the stables. It had baffled Martha, when they’d first arrived, to discover that the townspeople had access to telephones and other technology, but they still used horses as their chief mode of transport, until the Doctor had explained.
Three days ago
“A lot of the inhabitants of the spaceport are settlers from Earth,” the Doctor said, when Martha commented on the odd combination of horse-based transport and spaceships as they looked down on the spaceport from the hilltop where the TARDIS had arrived. “Which means they know the damage that’s caused by pollution and the burning of fossil fuels. When they decided to develop this moon, having realised how handy its position is for refuelling spaceships, they took the decision to limit the amount of pollution they would cause. Much of the infrastructure is still being put in place, so they’re using horses at the moment, but once they’ve finished building the city of Storman, which is about 20 miles away, they’ll be using electric trains to travel between Storman and Domare, and they’ll have electric trams in the city itself.”
Martha’s eyes were bright with curiosity and interest as she listened to the Doctor’s explanation, and he felt the familiar sense of excitement that seeing things through her eyes brought to him.
“Actually, that anachronistic combination isn’t all that unusual. When I was in my fourth incarnation, I visited a planet called Tara, where the upper class were knights and ladies, and went around in mediaeval dress, and the lower class were called peasants, but they had advanced technological skills - to the point that they could build almost perfect android replicas of people - that the upper classes didn’t.”
“How strange,” Martha commented, before accept the Doctor’s hand for the walk down into town. “So why are we here?”
“We need to stock up on some food and Domare is the nearest place for several light years.”
“Okay then.”
Now
Martha allowed the Doctor to help her up into the saddle, then followed him at a fast trot as they set out to travel the two miles to where they’d left the TARDIS a few days before.
He let them into the ship and she felt a wave of affection from the TARDIS as they walked up the ramp. She and the Doctor both murmured a greeting, quickly stroking a hand over one of the coral struts, before they headed to the Medical Bay.
”Why don’t you give me a list of your most pressing needs, drug-wise, and we’ll take something of everything back,” the Time Lord suggested as Martha began sorting out the equipment she needed to test Liddy’s blood.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her head tilted to one side as she looked up at him.
“Of course,” he answered.
“Thank you.” She began reeling off the names of the drugs, which the Doctor pulled from the TARDIS’ store cupboards and piled onto an instrument trolley. He left Martha doing the blood tests while he went to fetch a bag to pack the drugs into so they could be carried safely back to Domare.
When they returned to Domare, Martha immediately hurried into the field hospital, the satchel of drugs bumping against her hip, but she saw instantly that she was too late: Liddy was not in her usual spot, and a body lay covered from head to toe by a sheet near the entrance to the tent.
“No!” gasped Martha in horror.
“I’m sorry Dr Jones,” said Dr Hart, approaching quickly. “The DVT must have been more advanced than we realised, and Miss Daviot’s condition worsened rapidly shortly after you left. She died a few minutes ago of a pulmonary embolism.”
Martha barely registered the Doctor behind her as she stepped over to the bed and pulled back the sheet to gaze down at Liddy’s face. He wrapped his arms around her as she turned blindly from the bed, and held her as she sobbed against his chest. He slipped the strap of the satchel off her shoulder and held it out wordlessly to Dr Beck, who took it with a nod of gratitude.
Neither of the two local doctors demurred when the Time Lord led Martha back out of the field hospital and around the corner of the tent to stand under the trees. He rubbed her back and murmured soothingly to her as he waited for her sobs to subside.
“I’m so sorry, my love,” he said softly, kissing her forehead and brushing her tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.
“I want to go home,” Martha said.
“If that’s what you want, then we shall,” he answered.
“Please.” She scrubbed at her eyes. “Everyone else who was injured is likely to make a good recovery, so Dr Beck and Dr Hart will be able to manage without me.”
“Let’s go and get our things from the hotel, then,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her down the street.
* * * * * *
A few hours later they had said their goodbyes, and the TARDIS was in the Vortex, heading for Earth, and Martha and the Doctor were in their room. She had cried herself to sleep - after ringing Francine to say they were on their way for a visit - and he had held her as she sobbed, trying to comfort her as best he could. She was curled on her side, and the Doctor’s arms were wrapped around her, his chest against her back, although he was still awake.
She stirred in her sleep, then cried out, and the Doctor gently shook her awake. “Martha, come on love, wake up,” he said.
She jerked awake, starting up from the bed, but the Doctor spoke quietly to her, holding her shoulders.
”Were you dreaming?” he asked.
“Nightmare,” she answered.
“What about - Liddy?”
“Sort of,” she said, allowing the Doctor to pull her down beside him. “I dreamt I was the one caught up in the accident - and both my legs were crushed and mangled.”
He kissed her forehead, then rubbed a hand up and down her arm. “Sounds quite horrible,” he said.
“It was,” she answered, with a little shiver, before shifting closer. She lifted her head and kissed him, lifting her leg and moving it to lie between his. “Will you make love to me, please?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Gladly.”
They had both been so busy and so tired while they’d been in Domare that they’d barely had the energy to do more than kiss and cuddle during the last few days, so the Doctor was pleased by Martha’s request, feeling that it was a good way for them reconnect as a couple, as well as a way for Martha to forget her nightmare. He began unbuttoning her pyjama top as he kissed her, determined to make her feel safe again, and to distract her from her dream for as long as he could.
Title: Loss
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Nighy!Eleven, OCs
Rating: PG-13 (somewhat graphic medical scenes)
Spoilers: None (AU Post-S4)
Summary: Martha and the Doctor do their best to help survivors of a bad accident.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish that I did own it!
Author Notes: The latest of my Whoniverse fics for 20_est_relships. The prompt was 08. Loss (Prompt table here and timeline here).
Beta: the inestimable fourzoas
~~~~~~
Fic banner by mischief89
The Doctor stepped into the large tent that was being used as a field hospital, his eyes going straight to Martha. Her clothes were dirty and bloodstained, and she’d tied her hair back, but odd strands had escaped and were straggling around her face as she worked.
He felt a surge of pride and admiration for her; they’d arrived at the spaceport at lunch time, only intending to make a brief stay while they got some food supplies, but they had found things in chaos as an overloaded crane had toppled onto one of the buildings that was going up at the far side of the spaceport, injuring a number of passers-by as well as the workers. Martha had immediately insisted on offering her assistance after finding out where those who needed medical attention were being treated - not that he’d have dreamt of standing in her way. As soon as he’d seen her to the field hospital he’d gone to offer what assistance he could in clearing the rubble and bringing the wounded and dead out of the collapsed building.
Martha had a saw in her hand and was cutting through the bone of a woman’s left leg, her movements quick and deft. He knew that speed was of the essence when someone was as badly injured as this woman: her lower leg was horribly mangled with shards of bone sticking through the torn skin in several places. He swallowed down a host of emotions at the sight, his eyes fixed firmly on Martha’s unhesitating movements, but he couldn’t help noticing there was a deathly grey tinge to the unconscious woman’s skin, and the Doctor wondered if she would survive the amputation - not that he doubted for a second that Martha wouldn’t do her very best to see that her patient did survive, but the trauma might still kill her.
As he watched, Martha finished cutting away the damaged leg, and a young man waiting by the end of the bed removed it, while she concentrated on staunching the bleeding, then sewing the flap of skin that she’d left over the stump to protect it from infection and, hopefully, speed the healing. Her face, in profile, had never looked more beautiful to his eyes: her expression of fierce determination and intense concentration clearly conveyed to him that she was doing what she did best - helping to heal others. He held himself very still as he waited for her to finish, though he longed to rush over and pull her into his arms, to hold her and tell her how very proud of her he felt.
Finally the last stitch was put in place, and the young man passed Martha gauze, tape and a bandage so that the stump could be dressed. As she straightened up the Doctor abruptly realised that Martha looked almost exhausted as he felt; they’d been working for more than five hours, and he knew without question that Martha would not have stopped her ministrations unless it was absolutely necessary. He and the other rescue workers had found no more survivors during the last half hour that they’d been working, and he could see that the woman whose leg Martha had just amputated was the last patient in here - the remainder of the tent’s occupants were all lying in their makeshift beds, bandaged and exhausted, but alive.
As Martha straightened up and peeled off her bloodstained gloves he crossed the few feet that separated them, and she turned with a weary expression that brightened momentarily at the sight of the Doctor.
“Hello,” he said softly, brushing the errant hairs from her face.
“Hello yourself,” she answered, then frowned. “Are you okay?”
He followed the direction of her gaze and saw the bloodstains on his suit and shirt. “It’s not mine,” he assured her quickly, “just from the wounded. You look exhausted.”
“You do know how to flatter a woman, Mr Smith,” Martha said with a half smile.
He kissed her forehead. “I wouldn’t dream of wasting flattery on you, Dr Jones,” he said. “Let’s go and see about a bath, some food and some rest.”
She gave a half moan. “That would be bliss,” she said, allowing him to lead her out of the tent. “Are we going back to the TARDIS?”
He shook his head. “Not unless you want to,” he said. “I was thinking of heading to the hotel on the other side of the spaceport.”
“Okay.”
Ten minutes later the Doctor unlocked the door to a large, comfortable looking suite that was decorated in cream and pale blue.
“I’ll order room service,” he said, “but let’s have that bath first.”
“Yes please,” Martha groaned. Her clothes were sticky with blood and sweat, and she longed to pull them off.
He took her hand and led her into the ensuite bathroom, where they undressed as quickly as their aching bodies allowed, and then they sank into the hot, bubbly water with a sense of relief.
“What’s the death toll?” Martha asked as the Doctor sat down behind her and pulled her back against his chest.
“At the last count, 35,” he answered softly, gently rubbing his hands up and down her arms.
She sighed heavily. “It could have been worse,” she said, “and it still might be. I’m not sure everyone I’ve treated today will actually survive.”
“I’m positive that you did the best you could,” he said, picking up the sponge and beginning to wash her neck and shoulders. “Lean forward.”
Martha shuffled forward slightly so the Doctor could get at her back and sighed with pleasure as the hot water began to ease her aching muscles.
They didn’t talk much after that, each of them concentrating on washing the other and letting their gentle touches speak for them. Eventually, though, the water cooled, so they climbed out of the bath, dried off, and wrapped themselves in the bathrobes provided by the hotel.
“How hungry are you?” asked the Doctor as he picked up the phone to ring for room service.
“Pretty ravenous, actually,” Martha answered.
He nodded and spoke to the receptionist, repeating the details of what was available to Martha before ordering for them both.
“It’ll be about twenty minutes,” he told her after he put down the phone.
“’kay.” Martha was sprawled on her back on the bed, and the Doctor sat down next to her.
“Fancy a cuddle?” he asked.
“Please.”
He heard a slight catch in her voice, and he shifted to lie down beside her, then wrapped his arms around her.
”You did the best you could,” he assured her softly. “I’m quite sure the number of fatalities would be much higher if you hadn’t been there to help the other two doctors.”
“Maybe,” she answered quietly.
He kissed her forehead, rubbing one hand up and down her spine. “Definitely,” he said.
They lay in silence, each deep in their own thoughts, until a knock on the door alerted them to the arrival of room service. The Doctor unwrapped his arms from Martha and went to the door, fastening the belt of his robe as he moved. He brought the trolley inside the room, thanking the member of staff, and moved it across to the small table by the window as Martha pushed herself up from the bed.
“You okay?” he asked her anxiously, seeing how worn out she looked.
She nodded. “I just need some food and some sleep,” she said as she sat down opposite the Time Lord.
“Food, first, then.” He served her generous portions of the baked fish pie, minted potatoes, and green vegetables, then piled more onto his own plate.
They ate hungrily, speaking little until they were eating generous portions of fresh fruit salad and ice cream for their dessert.
“If you want to stay here for a couple of days, we can.”
Martha looked up, her spoon half way to her mouth, then smiled sweetly. “Thank you. I would like to stay for at least a day or two, just to see how people get on. I’m concerned about Liddy.”
“Liddy?”
“The woman whose leg I amputated,” she explained. “I’m worried she won’t survive: the shock might still kill her, or the wound could get infected.”
He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “Then we’ll stay, until we know one way or the other,” he said.
“Thank you.” Martha finished her dessert and accepted a mug of tea from the Doctor who wheeled the trolley with the rest of their dinner things over to the door and left it outside, then they settled on the bed while they drank their tea.
“Do you want a massage before you sleep?” asked the Doctor.
She leant against his shoulder. “No, no need to wear yourself out. You must be even more tired than I am, after all your hard work.”
“I’m not too tired to give you a massage, though,” he assured her.
“Save it for the morning,” Martha suggested. “I’ll appreciate it more then.”
“Very well Dr Jones.”
She put aside her mug and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning in for a tender kiss. The Doctor smiled and helped her out of her robe, then pulled off his own and they settled onto the bed, both ready for sleep.
* * * * * *
For the next two days Martha continued to help the spaceport’s medical staff in looking after the injured, while the Doctor helped with clearing the rubble of the damaged building and bringing out the bodies of those who hadn’t survived.
Then, on the third morning, Martha discovered that Liddy’s upper left leg was looking swollen and discoloured, and the superficial veins over her thigh and hip were far more visible than usual. Martha swore silently to herself, recognising the signs of DVT, then she hurried to find her two colleagues to discover what blood-thinning drugs they had available since a hospital had yet to be built in the spaceport, which was why they were working in a tent.
“Dr Beck!” Martha called, spotting him talking to one of the nurses.
He looked up. “Dr Jones. What is it?” he asked quickly when he saw the concerned expression she wore.
“It looks as if Miss Daviot is developing DVT. Do we have any blood-thinning drugs we can get her started on while I test her blood’s clotting ability?”
His normally genial expression turned anxious. “I’m not sure if we do,” he answered. “Dr Hart will know, though. She’s been keeping the drug inventory.”
“Where is she?” asked Martha, who hadn’t seen the red-haired doctor yet this morning.
“She should be here any minute,” Dr Beck answered, ruffling his dark hair in an anxious gesture that had grown familiar to her over the last few days. (It reminded her of the Doctor’s previous incarnation, which she had initially found distracting.)
Martha nodded. “I’ll go and draw some of Miss Daviot’s blood to begin testing the activity of the blood clotting factors.”
“I’ll let Dr Hart know you want to speak to her as soon as she arrives,” he said.
Martha hurried back to Liddy’s bed and was alarmed to see her patient clutching at her chest as she gasped for breath. Swallowing down a curse, Martha helped Liddy to sit up, then shoved some extra pillows under her head and shoulders.
“Here,” she said, holding a glass of water to Liddy’s mouth and carefully helping her to drink it.
“Thank you,” gasped the older woman, lying back against the pillows with a sigh. “My leg hurts.” Her face was marked by lines of pain and Martha felt her heart clench in anguish.
“I know,” she said softly. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to take some blood from you.”
Liddy nodded and lifted her arm without being asked, only wincing slightly when Martha slipped the needle into her arm.
“We’re going to have to put you on some more medication,” Martha told her. “Hopefully that will help your leg to stop hurting.”
There was a resigned expression in Liddy’s eyes as she acknowledged Martha’s words, and the young doctor squeezed her hand tightly before heading towards Dr Beck.
“Ah, Dr Jones, I’ve just spoken to Dr Hart, and she says that we don’t have any blood thinning drugs available.”
“Where’s the nearest place we could get some?” asked Martha promptly.
“Over in Storman - twenty miles away,” answered Dr Beck.
She scowled. “I’m going to find my friend,” she told him. “I’ll ask him to go over there and get some.” He nodded and she hurried out in search of the Doctor.
Martha found the Time Lord talking to the chief engineer about plans to rebuild the damaged building, and as soon as he saw her anxious expression he excused himself and took her arm, leading her aside.
“What is it?” he asked quickly.
”It’s Liddy. She seems to be developing Deep Vein Thrombosis. I desperately need some blood thinning drugs, but the nearest place we can get them is Storman, and that’s twenty miles away.”
“I can bring some from the TARDIS,” the Doctor said promptly.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Martha looked relieved. “I need to use the Medical Bay so I can test Liddy’s blood - check its clotting tendency,” she elaborated, seeing a puzzled expression in his blue eyes. “We’ve no equipment in the field hospital for something so complex.”
He nodded his understanding. “I’ll round up a couple of horses and we’ll go together,” he said.
“Okay.” Martha waited while the Doctor made his excuses to the chief engineer - a tall, brawny woman whose name she didn’t know - and then allowed him to lead her to the stables. It had baffled Martha, when they’d first arrived, to discover that the townspeople had access to telephones and other technology, but they still used horses as their chief mode of transport, until the Doctor had explained.
Three days ago
“A lot of the inhabitants of the spaceport are settlers from Earth,” the Doctor said, when Martha commented on the odd combination of horse-based transport and spaceships as they looked down on the spaceport from the hilltop where the TARDIS had arrived. “Which means they know the damage that’s caused by pollution and the burning of fossil fuels. When they decided to develop this moon, having realised how handy its position is for refuelling spaceships, they took the decision to limit the amount of pollution they would cause. Much of the infrastructure is still being put in place, so they’re using horses at the moment, but once they’ve finished building the city of Storman, which is about 20 miles away, they’ll be using electric trains to travel between Storman and Domare, and they’ll have electric trams in the city itself.”
Martha’s eyes were bright with curiosity and interest as she listened to the Doctor’s explanation, and he felt the familiar sense of excitement that seeing things through her eyes brought to him.
“Actually, that anachronistic combination isn’t all that unusual. When I was in my fourth incarnation, I visited a planet called Tara, where the upper class were knights and ladies, and went around in mediaeval dress, and the lower class were called peasants, but they had advanced technological skills - to the point that they could build almost perfect android replicas of people - that the upper classes didn’t.”
“How strange,” Martha commented, before accept the Doctor’s hand for the walk down into town. “So why are we here?”
“We need to stock up on some food and Domare is the nearest place for several light years.”
“Okay then.”
Now
Martha allowed the Doctor to help her up into the saddle, then followed him at a fast trot as they set out to travel the two miles to where they’d left the TARDIS a few days before.
He let them into the ship and she felt a wave of affection from the TARDIS as they walked up the ramp. She and the Doctor both murmured a greeting, quickly stroking a hand over one of the coral struts, before they headed to the Medical Bay.
”Why don’t you give me a list of your most pressing needs, drug-wise, and we’ll take something of everything back,” the Time Lord suggested as Martha began sorting out the equipment she needed to test Liddy’s blood.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her head tilted to one side as she looked up at him.
“Of course,” he answered.
“Thank you.” She began reeling off the names of the drugs, which the Doctor pulled from the TARDIS’ store cupboards and piled onto an instrument trolley. He left Martha doing the blood tests while he went to fetch a bag to pack the drugs into so they could be carried safely back to Domare.
When they returned to Domare, Martha immediately hurried into the field hospital, the satchel of drugs bumping against her hip, but she saw instantly that she was too late: Liddy was not in her usual spot, and a body lay covered from head to toe by a sheet near the entrance to the tent.
“No!” gasped Martha in horror.
“I’m sorry Dr Jones,” said Dr Hart, approaching quickly. “The DVT must have been more advanced than we realised, and Miss Daviot’s condition worsened rapidly shortly after you left. She died a few minutes ago of a pulmonary embolism.”
Martha barely registered the Doctor behind her as she stepped over to the bed and pulled back the sheet to gaze down at Liddy’s face. He wrapped his arms around her as she turned blindly from the bed, and held her as she sobbed against his chest. He slipped the strap of the satchel off her shoulder and held it out wordlessly to Dr Beck, who took it with a nod of gratitude.
Neither of the two local doctors demurred when the Time Lord led Martha back out of the field hospital and around the corner of the tent to stand under the trees. He rubbed her back and murmured soothingly to her as he waited for her sobs to subside.
“I’m so sorry, my love,” he said softly, kissing her forehead and brushing her tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.
“I want to go home,” Martha said.
“If that’s what you want, then we shall,” he answered.
“Please.” She scrubbed at her eyes. “Everyone else who was injured is likely to make a good recovery, so Dr Beck and Dr Hart will be able to manage without me.”
“Let’s go and get our things from the hotel, then,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her down the street.
* * * * * *
A few hours later they had said their goodbyes, and the TARDIS was in the Vortex, heading for Earth, and Martha and the Doctor were in their room. She had cried herself to sleep - after ringing Francine to say they were on their way for a visit - and he had held her as she sobbed, trying to comfort her as best he could. She was curled on her side, and the Doctor’s arms were wrapped around her, his chest against her back, although he was still awake.
She stirred in her sleep, then cried out, and the Doctor gently shook her awake. “Martha, come on love, wake up,” he said.
She jerked awake, starting up from the bed, but the Doctor spoke quietly to her, holding her shoulders.
”Were you dreaming?” he asked.
“Nightmare,” she answered.
“What about - Liddy?”
“Sort of,” she said, allowing the Doctor to pull her down beside him. “I dreamt I was the one caught up in the accident - and both my legs were crushed and mangled.”
He kissed her forehead, then rubbed a hand up and down her arm. “Sounds quite horrible,” he said.
“It was,” she answered, with a little shiver, before shifting closer. She lifted her head and kissed him, lifting her leg and moving it to lie between his. “Will you make love to me, please?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Gladly.”
They had both been so busy and so tired while they’d been in Domare that they’d barely had the energy to do more than kiss and cuddle during the last few days, so the Doctor was pleased by Martha’s request, feeling that it was a good way for them reconnect as a couple, as well as a way for Martha to forget her nightmare. He began unbuttoning her pyjama top as he kissed her, determined to make her feel safe again, and to distract her from her dream for as long as he could.