Possession
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/326920.html">Possession by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha, Tenth Doctor | Rating: PG | Spoilers: 42)
Title: Possession
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha, Tenth Doctor
Rating: PG
Spoilers: S3 up to 42
Summary: Martha discovers the Doctor is still harbouring part of the living sun creature in his head.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish that I did own it!
Author Notes: This fic is a holiday gift for calliopes_pen who requested a fanfic set sometime after 42 - the Doctor gets possessed by that sun creature again. Whether or not it ends well or horribly is up to the writer. I twisted it, slightly, to have the living sun creature still in the Doctor's head after he left the Pentallian.
Beta readers: catholicphoton and abstruse_fangrl
~~~~~~
Martha laid her TARDIS key on the bedside table with a feeling half of reverence and half of nervousness: she almost didn't believe the Doctor had given it to her, despite its very tangible presence here in her room. She shook her head, smiling at herself, then pulled off her shoes before padding in her socks into her ensuite bathroom for a shower. The Doctor had decided he wanted to go ice-skating after their encounter with the living sun, and she had to admit the idea of somewhere chilly after all that heat was attractive. But first she wanted to shower and change out of her sweaty clothes. A long, cold drink wouldn't go amiss, either, she decided as she turned on the shower, then shed her clothes; it wouldn't do to get dehydrated, and she knew she must be slightly dehydrated after all that running about aboard the super-heated Pentallian.
Martha dropped her clothes into the Ali-Baba wicker basket by the bathroom door, then patted the wall beside it with a murmur of thanks, knowing that the ship would have cleaned the clothes by the time she had finished her shower.
As she soaped, lathered, rinsed, then rinsed again, she couldn't help thinking about how frightened the Doctor must have been when he'd been possessed by the living sun creature - he'd never admitted to being scared before, not even when they'd faced the Daleks in New York, and yet the Daleks had been responsible for the destruction of his people and planet. Maybe it was because they were an external threat, she mused. They could be seen and heard, could be fired upon by weapons, and even destroyed, whereas the sun creature worked by taking over the mind and using the body of its victim to kill people and destroy equipment.
She shivered as she thought of how harsh the Doctor had sounded when he'd commanded her to burn with him; she'd been very glad that she hadn't been in his vicinity at that point.
Stepping out of the shower again, Martha dried herself off, then wrapped herself in the midnight blue bathrobe that hung on the back of the door. She used another towel to dry her hair, then turned it into a turban so it wouldn't get in her way while she was getting dressed.
Walking out of the bathroom she uttered a small squeak of surprise and dismay when she found the Doctor standing barely a foot from the door.
"Doctor!" She clutched at her chest, reassuring herself that her heart hadn't stopped out of sheer fright. "You startled me," she said, rather unnecessarily, because he was giving her an unfathomable look from those dark eyes of his, and she was feeling too unnerved to stay silent.
"Sorry," he said perfunctorily, not sounding very apologetic.
"What's wrong?" she asked, wondering why he was even in her bedroom. He'd never come in before, and it was rather disconcerting to have him there now, especially when she was only wearing a bathrobe.
"Nothing," he answered. "I came to tell you we've arrived on Kurhan. You didn't answer your door, and I wondered if you'd fallen asleep in the bath or something."
"Oh." She was touched by his concern, but slightly embarrassed, too. "I'm sorry, I was taking a shower."
"Right." He remained staring at her, and Martha felt a disquieting urge to back away because his gaze seemed to be stripping her bare, and not in a sexy way.
"If you can give me a few minutes, I'll get dressed and join you in the Control Room," she said; somehow she didn't want him to remain in her room: once, she would have been thrilled at the possible scenarios that might unfold as a result of being in this particular situation, but today she just felt unnerved. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't invited him into her room and, until now, he'd always treated it as her private place, always saying goodnight at the door.
"Yes, clothes. Clothes are a good thing. Make sure you wrap up very warmly, Martha Jones. I don't want my medical student getting sick, now do I?" The words tumbled rapidly from his mouth, then he swung around abruptly and practically bolted from the room, leaving Martha feeling perplexed. His behaviour often seemed erratic at the best of times, since he so often swung from manic, excited babbling and bouncing around to brooding silence, but he'd never run away from her before.
Maybe his brain only just caught up she thought. I mentioned getting dressed, and he panicked when he realised I was practically naked? She briefly wondered if he'd have bolted if he'd found Rose in a similar situation, then she banished the thought as pointless speculation.
Martha dressed rapidly, then finished drying her hair; that took the longest to achieve as she didn't want to risk it being even slightly damp when she went outside. She wished she had a hat, or that she had time to hunt for one in the wardrobe, but she was worried about keeping the Doctor waiting any longer - he might get impatient at the delay if she did, and she didn't want to upset him. She grabbed her TARDIS key and draped the chain around her neck, tucking it inside her shirt and the sweater that she'd pulled on over it, then she hurried through the corridors to the Control Room.
She went in half expecting to find the Time Lord pacing, or tapping his foot impatiently at the very least, but instead he was sitting on the padded seat, his arms stretched along the back, and his feet resting on the edge of the console. As she approached, Martha saw he had his eyes closed and she wondered if he'd grown so bored while waiting for her that he'd fallen asleep.
"Martha Jones," he said, his voice sounding huskier than usual as he proved that he wasn't asleep. "You're ready sooner than I expected."
She felt a momentary surge of pleasure at defying his expectations. "I didn't want to keep you waiting," she answered truthfully.
He opened his eyes and smiled. "Are you wrapped up warmly enough?"
"I think so. Not knowing just how cold Kurhan is, compared to Earth."
His smile broadened. "Good answer." He swung his legs down and stood up, then picked up his long coat which had been draped over the seat. He shrugged it on, his eyes never leaving her face as he dug in one of the pockets for a moment before pulling out a small pair of leather gloves and a black woollen hat, which he offered to her.
"Not very fashionable, I'm afraid," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic this time. "But you're such a practical person that perhaps being warm matters more in this instance?"
"Yes. Thank you." She smiled. "I should have known you'd think of this, when I was wishing, just now, that I had time to look for a hat."
"Credit where credit's due," he answered, taking the hat from her again and setting it on her head at a jaunty angle, before he brushed a strand of hair from her face. "It was the TARDIS who provided the hat and gloves. Doubtless she picked up on your thought."
"She can do that?" Martha asked, half-distracted by the lingering sensation of warmth from the Doctor's fingers, even though he'd now shoved his own hands into his pockets.
He laughed. "Oh, there's no end to my ship's talents," he said boastfully, as if he were a proud father speaking of a favourite child. He bent and picked up two pairs of skates from the floor beside the console. "Shall we, Miss Jones?"
"We shall, Mr Smith." Martha's words reminded her of her trip to Shakespeare's England, but she dismissed her memories of cackling Carrionites and an angry monarch: it was unlikely that the Doctor had brought her somewhere dangerous when all he wanted to do was go ice-skating.
He let her precede him down the ramp and open the door onto a snowy landscape that was stained pink by a rising sun.
"Wow," she said softly, awed by the beauty of the snow-laden trees and bushes, and the untrodden snow that lay in front of the TARDIS doors.
The Doctor put a hand in the small of her back and she took the hint to move, stepping out into the snow and feeling relieved that she didn't immediately sink up to her knees or waist, as she'd been half-imagining might happen.
Martha was surprised when the Doctor took his hand from her back and caught hold of her hand instead. He led the way around a copse of trees to a large frozen lake that was a reddish-brown colour, rather than the white of a frozen lake at home.
"You said we were coming to the mineral lakes of Kurhan," she observed, remembering the Doctor's earlier words, and realising that this must be why the lake wasn't white with ice.
"I did," he answered, with a pleased smile that she'd remembered.
He guided her along the shore to an outcrop of rocks from which he dusted the snow, then gestured for her to be seated. "Let me help you put your skates on," he said.
Martha raised an eyebrow, but sat down anyway, and lifted her foot for the Doctor to strap the skate onto it. Once she had both skates on he helped her up, then gave her a quizzical look. "I forgot to ask, can you skate?"
She grinned, then turned away from him and executed an elegant glide out across the ice, before doing a waltz jump and skating back to his side.
"Show off," he teased, but there was affection and amusement in his expression and tone when he spoke.
Martha's grin widened. "I can't do any of the really fancy, complicated jumps," she said. "But I do know the basics."
He shook his head, then sat down and put on his own skates. "Come on then, Miss Basics, let's see what you've got." He held out his hand and she took it, and they set off across the ice together.
They soon had a good rhythm going, and Martha began to relax and enjoy herself, banishing all thoughts of living suns, out of control spaceships, or the Doctor's mercurial behaviour.
"I haven't been ice-skating since 1814," he said, apropos of nothing. "That was the last time the Thames was frozen, well, naturally frozen, that is."
She raise an inquisitive eyebrow. "Are you saying someone went to the trouble of freezing the Thames on purpose? Was it aliens?"
He laughed. "No, it was done for the 2030 Dancing on Ice Special."
Martha snorted. "So even twenty years into my future there's a TV company with more money than sense? Nothing new there, then."
The Doctor laughed again, then began talking about some of the great ice-skaters of the 20th century.
They'd skated for about an hour and a half when Martha started to flag, feeling a chilly ache in her legs and lower back. The Doctor seemed surprised, and even disappointed, when she suggested heading back to the TARDIS for a break to warm up.
"I think I'll stay here for a bit longer," he said, "but you go back if you're too tired." His tone was rather dismissive.
"Sorry to be a party-pooper," she said, feeling a little stung.
"It's okay, I just keep forgetting you humans don't have my Time Lord stamina and strength," he answered. He turned and skated away, leaving Martha staring after him with a hurt expression.
After a moment, when it was obvious he wasn't going to come back to the ship with her, she sat down on the rocks and took off her skates, fumbling awkwardly with the buckles. Then she trudged back to the TARDIS and let herself in. The thrill of being the one to unlock the door as she used her new key for the first time, was diminished by the fact that the Doctor wasn't there to share the moment with her. She crossed the Control Room, leaving the skates, hat and gloves on the seat, then headed into her room to hang up her coat. She remembered her concern about dehydration, and went to the kitchen to get herself a drink, making hot chocolate with sprinkles, and some toast to go with it. She looked around the empty kitchen, then decided that she'd rather sit alone in her room than rattle around the kitchen on her own.
* * * * * *
Martha ate her toast, drank her hot chocolate, and then ate a couple of bananas as well, all while catching up on some of her reading for her course, but after a couple of hours of studying the effects of her day caught up with her, and she dropped off to sleep, the book she'd been holding falling off the bed with a quiet thunk that didn't rouse her. The TARDIS, as was her usual practise, dimmed the lights once Martha had been asleep for about fifteen minutes, so that the young human wasn't disturbed.
She had been asleep for roughly two hours when a nightmare brought her awake with a startled cry that turned into an outright scream as she registered someone looming over her in the dim light.
"Martha!" snapped the Doctor, his voice harsh.
She gasped, looking up at him fearfully as the lights in the room returned to their usual level of illumination and revealed a strange light in the Doctor's eyes.
"What are you screaming at me for?" he demanded.
"You scared me," she answered in a small voice. "I was having a nightmare about that sun creature, and then I woke up and someone was leaning over me - it seemed as if my dream had become reality."
He tutted, then stepped back from the bed a little way. "Well, if you've finished wasting your life away, sleeping, I thought we could go somewhere else."
She scrubbed at her face with her hand, trying to bring her mind back from the nightmare images that had crowded into it. "Right, I'll just tidy up my books and stuff, then I'll be with you."
"Yeah, okay," he answered.
He went out, leaving Martha feeling hurt all over again. He seemed to have been really moody since they had left the SS Pentallian, and while she understood that being possessed by a living sun was hardly the most enjoyable of experiences, she had expected him to shake it off by now. Maybe she was being unreasonable, or expecting too much, but she couldn't help going by her past experience, and he'd bounced back quickly enough after being struck by lightning when he was trying to stop the Daleks.
"He's a Time Lord, Martha, the usual rules don't apply," she told herself. The TARDIS' hum seemed to increase in response to her words, and once she'd stacked her books up on her desk, she couldn't resist running a hand down the wall. "Do you know what's up with him?" she asked. "And can you tell me, if you do?"
The ship just hummed in response, and she sighed heavily, then turned to her dressing table to tidy her hair before heading out to the Control Room, straightening her sleep-rumpled clothes as she went.
This time when she went in, the Doctor was pacing around the Control Room, an impatient expression on his face that made Martha's heart sink just a little as she approached him.
"There you are!" he exclaimed, as if she'd kept him waiting hours instead of a few minutes. He turned and began his usual 'dance' around the console to get them moving.
"So, where are we going?" Martha asked conversationally.
"Wait and see!" he said, rather snappishly.
"Sorry I asked," she muttered, now feeling slightly fed up with his bad temper.
"What?" he demanded, whirling around on the spot and almost knocking her over.
"Nothing," Martha answered, more loudly. She watched him stalk around the console and bit her lip in indecision. She desperately wanted to ask him what was wrong, because she had thought they were into new territory now that he'd given her a key to the TARDIS, but at the moment it didn't feel like they were friends. She couldn't quite believe he was still upset with her for giving up on the ice-skating before he was ready - surely he wasn't that childish?
As he came back around the console again, Martha stepped to the side, out of his way, but he stepped in the same direction so that she was still in his path. She wanted to make a joke out of it, but looking up, she could see the same weird light in his eyes that she'd seen when he woke her from her nightmare, and it unnerved her.
"Just stand still, will you?" he snapped angrily.
"I'm sorry," she answered, biting back anger and tears.
"What's the matter with you? Is it because we left your boyfriend on the Pentallian?"
"My boyfriend?" asked Martha, baffled.
"That Vashtee fellow, the one you were so busy snogging before we left."
She stared at him. "Riley wasn't my boyfriend," she said. "He was a friend who was kind to me when we thought were both going to die in that escape pod."
"Why did you kiss him then?"
She gaped at him, then laughed shortly. "Is that what your bad mood's about?" she asked. "You're jealous of me kissing Riley?"
He span around and grabbed her shoulders, gripping them painfully tight. "Don't be stupid, Martha Jones," he said, glaring down at her. "Why would I be jealous of a silly boy kissing you? I'm not your boyfriend."
She tried to pull away because not only were his fingers digging into her shoulders, but his hands were unusually warm, and she could have sworn that she could feel heat radiating from his body.
"Doctor!" she gasped when he didn't immediately let her go. "You're hurting me."
He pushed her away, none too gently, so that she stumbled up against the seat. "I could hurt you worse than that, Martha Jones. I don't think you realise just how much power I wield as a Time Lord. I can destroy people or planets, with just a few words. I can see the whole of the future and the past - an individual's or a whole world's - so I know exactly what to do to change their future. I could easily compel people to worship me, to make sacrifices, or start wars in my name."
He was striding around the console as he spoke, while Martha cowered against the seat, wondering what had got into him. She was actually beginning to suspect that it was less a case of something having got into him, than of something not having got out of him - namely the sun creature, especially since his body temperature seemed unusually high and to be going up gradually as his temper worsened.
Martha wondered what she could do to help him - because it seemed obvious to her that he needed help, although she wasn't sure he would admit that at the moment. She tried to remember whether there was a stasis chamber in the TARDIS medical bay - which she'd only briefly seen when the Doctor was showing her around the ship after she first came aboard.
"Are you even listening to me?" he demanded, breaking into her worried reverie.
She looked up at him and flinched: there was a bright light in his eyes now and she remembered the light she'd seen there after he'd been possessed, when he'd been yelling at McDonnell for scooping out the sun's heart.
"I am listening," she said quickly. "You were talking about the power you can wield as a Time Lord, and how you could make people worship you if you chose."
He smiled, but it wasn't a particularly friendly smile, particularly with that bright light shining out of his eyes. "Good."
"Doctor, I couldn't help noticing just now that your body temperature is a bit higher than usual and I was thinking maybe we should check that out in the medical bay?"
He glowered. "You doctors are always the same, always wanting to poke and prod me about. I suppose if you had your way, Martha Jones, you'd cut me open just so you could see what makes me tick?"
"I wouldn't - " she began, horrified at the idea, but he didn't let her finish.
"I'm not a science experiment, you know! I'm a living, breathing, thinking Time Lord, and I could wipe out your existence like that!" He snapped his fingers in her face.
"Please, Doctor, I just wanted to check you were okay," she protested. "You were possessed by a living sun, after all."
"Oh yes, that's what you all say. I haven't forgotten the way Grace killed me, you know!"
Martha gave him a bewildered look. "But - " she began.
"Shut. UP!" he shouted, leaning over her. "You humans are all the same, you always end up destroying things. You pollute the Earth, then go out into the galaxy and spread your filth everywhere. You - " He gasped suddenly, then staggered backwards, and Martha straightened up, feeling alarmed as she realised that sweat was pouring down his face now. "Martha - " he said weakly, then collapsed.
She darted forwards to where he sprawled in an ungainly heap across the floor, and slipping a finger into his collar, winced at the heat that almost burnt her skin as she felt for his pulse. She swallowed the lump in her throat that was threatening to choke her, then sagged in relief when she found the double beat beneath her fingers, although his hearts, normally slower than a human's, were racing madly now. She got to her feet and hurried to the medical bay, where she grabbed a handy wheelchair; she quickly wheeled it back to the Control Room and across to where the Doctor still lay.
It took her ten minutes of struggling with both the unconscious Time Lord and the wheelchair, which tipped over twice, before she managed to get him into it. His long limbs were hard to manipulate and while he was definitely skinny, he was still awkward to manoeuvre because he was so much taller than Martha. Eventually, though, she got him seated safely and wheeled him through to the medical bay.
"I don't know what even half the equipment is for in here," she told the TARDIS. "So I'm going to need you to help me, if you can, since he can't."
The ship hummed in response, then the nearest bed lowered itself until it was at the same height as the seat of the wheelchair.
"Thank you." Martha got the Doctor onto the bed, then took off his Converse and socks, then his jacket and his tie, before she straightened up and looked around the room.
"We need to lower his body temperature," she said, remembering what the Doctor had told her aboard the Pentallian.
There was a clunk behind her, and she turned to see a store cupboard, its door slowly swinging open. She hurried over and found it was packed full of gel packs; taking one out she saw that it was labelled 'Ice Pack' and that there were instructions in English explaining how to use it.
"Thanks!" she exclaimed, gladly. She grabbed a handful of the packs and carried them over to the bed, then began activating them and placing them around his body. After she'd lined up several alongside each leg, she unbuttoned and removed the Doctor's sweat-soaked shirt and t-shirt, then positioned more of the packs around his torso too.
He moaned and twitched, and she wondered if he was waking up, hoping that he would be so that he could tell her what to do, and what equipment to use. Unfortunately, he didn't wake, but he did start mumbling in a language which Martha had to assume was Gallifreyan.
"Now what?" she asked the ship, worried that she hadn't done enough; the Doctor had told her to freeze the sun creature out of him at minus 200, and she wasn't convinced that the gel ice packs would bring his temperature that low.
This time there was a rattling noise behind her and when she turned around she saw a metal tray on the counter by the sink; on the tray was what looked like a marker pen. Martha picked it up with some curiosity, and saw a neatly-printed label on it; the name of the drug was, unsurprisingly, completely unfamiliar to her, but the label gave directions on how to use the device to deliver the drug. She wondered what the drug was specifically for, but knew she'd have to trust that the TARDIS, at least, knew how best to treat an infected and overheated Time Lord, because Martha herself had only a faint idea.
She took the 'pen' over to the bed and, following the directions on the label, administered the drug into the Doctor's thigh.
Several minutes later he groaned loudly and when she moved to the head of the bed, he opened his eyes and blinked at her a few times before his gaze focused on her face.
"Martha?" he wheezed.
"Yes Doctor, I'm here." She was relieved to see that his eyes were back to normal, and hoped that meant that the sun creature was being overcome.
"What happened?"
"As far as I can work out, that living sun creature was still inside you," she answered. "It was infecting you, making your behaviour and mood erratic. Then you collapsed, so I brought you into the medical bay. The TARDIS has been helping me to look after you."
"Sorry."
He sounded genuinely apologetic, remorseful even, so she didn't hesitate to accept his apology. "It's okay," she answered. "You weren't yourself."
He groped across the bed until he found her hand, and clasped it. "Good job I brought a Doctor with me," he muttered.
"I'm not a doctor yet," she answered, squeezing his fingers. She didn't tell him that he'd railed against doctors earlier.
"You will be," he said. "Be a brilliant doctor, Martha Jones."
"Thanks." She felt touched by his confidence. "Hadn't you better get some rest?"
"Sleep, good thing, sleep," he answered, his words sounding more slurred now. She wondered if that was the effect of the drug she'd given him, and resolved to ask him once he was well again.
* * * * * *
The Doctor slept for a couple of hours, his hand in Martha's the whole time; she had dozed off herself soon after he fell asleep.
She woke them both up with a cry of horror when her nightmare from before returned, and she almost fell off the chair when she jerked herself awake.
"Martha." He sounded less wheezy this time when he said her name.
"Sorry, nightmare," she said, pushing herself back onto the chair, then looking over at the Time Lord. "Are you okay?" She could see goosebumps and the fine hairs standing up on his arms.
"Feeling better," he answered. "Bit cold, though."
"I'm not surprised, with all those ice packs around you. Shall I remove them?" He nodded, so she collected them up. "What should I do with them?" she asked.
"If you put them back where you found them, the TARDIS will recycle them," he answered.
"Neat." She opened the cupboard door, then stacked them on the bottom shelf as the top shelf, from where she'd taken them earlier, was now full again.
"Could I trouble you for a drink?" the Doctor asked when she'd finished.
"No trouble," she assured him. "Tea?" He nodded eagerly. "All right. I'll just be a few minutes. Don't move from that spot."
He gave her a clumsy salute. "Ma'am."
She laughed softly, then went out, relieved that he did seem to be recovering from being possessed by the sun creature. On the way back from the kitchen she stopped in her room to get her bathrobe for him to wear: she had no idea where the Doctor's bedroom was located, and she didn't want him to put back on his sweaty t-shirt and shirt, so the bathrobe would have to do until he was on his feet again.
When Martha walked in, the Doctor was shivering, and his expression was tense. She set down the tea tray, then gave him the bathrobe. "Are you okay?" she asked.
He nodded, but the tense expression remained as he wrapped the bathrobe around himself. "I - " He stopped, blushing, and Martha had a sudden flash of insight. She turned and walked across the room, hoping the TARDIS would know what the Doctor wanted so he wouldn't have to ask and neither would she. Fortunately the door to a low cupboard opened and Martha saw what she was looking for inside.
"Here," she said, handing the Doctor the plastic urine bottle, then turned her back to make them both a mug of tea.
When she turned around again a couple of minutes later, he was looking less tense but faintly embarrassed. She gave him the mug of tea, then brought her own mug and a plate of chocolate biscuits over to sit beside him again.
"Thank you," he said, a fervent note in his voice.
"No problem," she answered. She knew he was more grateful that she'd anticipated his need to pee, without making him ask for what he wanted, than he was for the mug of tea, but it didn't matter. He was normally so in control that this situation was probably making him uncomfortable enough without adding embarrassment over his biological functions to the equation.
"Can I get up soon?" he asked.
"If you do, will you promise to get some rest?" she countered.
"I think that would be a good idea," he agreed.
Martha's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You're agreeing to get some rest? You must be feeling rough," she said, teasing him a little.
He pulled a face. "I am," he admitted.
"Very well, then. Finish your tea and biscuits, and then you can get up."
"Thank you."
* * * * * *
Five minutes later, the Doctor was making his way through the TARDIS' corridors to his bedroom, with Martha at his side, at his insistence. She felt oddly nervous about visiting the Doctor's bedroom - he'd kept it private until now, just as her room had been private from him until today. But she sensed that he was feeling vulnerable still, so she hadn't refused when he'd asked her to go with him.
Finally they reached a door with a leaf pattern around the frame, and she followed him inside to find herself in what was almost a suite of rooms; there was a king size bed in a half room-sized alcove to the right, and what amounted to a library in a similar alcove to the left. The middle part of the room seemed to be a combination of study and workshop, with a couple of shabby but comfortable-looking armchairs near the far wall, a stool near a crowded workbench, and a leather 'executive' chair, such as Martha had seen in office supply catalogues, next to a large oak desk. She waited to see where the Doctor was going to sit, but he surprised her by heading towards the bed; he pulled out a drawer underneath it, and took out a t-shirt and a shirt, then put them down on the corner of the bed.
"Do you want something to eat?" she asked, not really wanting to watch him getting dressed; it was one thing to undress him when he was unconscious, but quite another to see him half-naked when he was properly awake.
He looked up. "You don't have to run around after me," he said, frowning. "You've done quite enough for me for one day."
"I wasn't planning on running," she answered, grinning. "Besides, I've only had two slices of toast and a couple of bananas in the last few hours, so I'm going to get something for myself."
His face brightened slightly. "Well, if you're going to be eating as well, yes please."
"Okay."
When Martha returned about twenty minutes later, the Doctor was fully dressed again, and sitting on his bed, his back against the headboard and his glasses on as he read a large, leather-bound book. He scrambled off the bed, however, when she came in, and hurried to guide over to his desk the tea-trolley that she'd found waiting in the kitchen. He stacked up books and papers on one end of the desk, then they set out the food that Martha had brought.
"Sit here," he said, tapping the back of the leather chair, before fetching the stool from alongside the workbench.
She sat down, then grabbed a spoon and began to tuck into the thick vegetable broth that she'd heated up; the TARDIS' fridge seemed to need restocking very rarely, and she'd found several plastic containers of ready-prepared soup, all of them bearing neat, hand-written labels. There was also fresh meat, fish, pasta and vegetables in the fridge, so she'd made a meal from some of the fish, pasta and vegetables to follow the soup. She'd also made a large pot of the Doctor's favourite blend of tea.
They ate mostly in silence, both of them concentrating on satisfying their hunger pangs; when they had finished the Doctor loaded the empty crockery onto the trolley, then wheeled it into the corridor, leaving only the tea things and a cake tin on his desk.
"What's that?" he asked, nodding at the cake tin.
"That banana bread that you like so much," Martha answered.
"You're a star," he said, beaming fondly. He picked it up and carried it over to the bedside table, then carried across the tea things.
"Come on," he said, waggling his fingers at her.
She raised her eyebrows inquisitively, but took his hand and let him lead her over to his bed.
"I'm going to read to you, if that's okay?"
She nodded. "Shouldn't I bring the stool over?"
It was his turn to raise his eyebrows. "Why?" he asked. "The bed's far more comfortable."
Martha felt a blush heating her cheeks. "I - um - " She looked away, embarrassed by his puzzlement.
He waited and eventually she sat down on the edge of the bed, darting a quick look up at his face as he sat down beside her.
"Do you mind if I lie down?" he asked.
She shook her head, then stood up again so he could swing his legs up onto the bed. He shifted over into the middle of the bed, then patted the duvet beside him.
"I won't bite," he teased gently.
"If you do, I'll bite you back," she answered, then giggled at his surprised expression. She settled beside him, and didn't flinch when he put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. He fished his glasses out of his jacket pocket and put them on, then opened the book again.
"I thought you might enjoy some Shakespeare," he said.
"Okay."
He cleared his throat, then began to read:
Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow
This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires,
Like to a step-dame or a dowager
Long withering out a young man revenue.
Martha grinned as she realised he was reading A Midsummer Night's Dream, one of her favourite Shakespearean comedies.
* * * * * *
The Doctor read for an hour, before taking a break for tea and cake, then he went back to reading. He was half way through Act III when he realised Martha had fallen asleep, so he set the book aside and shifted carefully so that they were both lying down. He could wake her and send her back to her room, but he didn't want to risk interrupting her sleep to such an extent that she couldn't go off again. Besides, it felt comforting to have her there.
He took his glasses off and closed his eyes, knowing the TARDIS wouldn't dim the lights if he appeared to want to stay awake, and he could think just as easily in the dark. He wanted to try to remember what he'd said and done while the sun creature had been possessing him, because his memories were rather hazy at the moment.
The Doctor fell asleep before he could recall much beyond skating with Martha on one of the mineral lakes of Kurhan; he woke some hours later with a start when someone cried out very close at hand, and it took him a moment to realise that it was Martha, and she was having a nightmare again.
He sat up, then shook her to wake her. She cried out again, and struggled with him until he was able to coax her into realising she was dreaming.
"Oh god!" she gasped, wrapping her arms around her knees; she was shuddering and he quickly wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back soothingly.
"It's okay," he said. "It was just a dream."
She turned and clung to him, and he held her more tightly, then lay back down, bringing Martha with him. "I'm sorry that I frightened you today."
"Not your fault," she answered. "You weren't yourself."
"No," he agreed. "I don't even remember everything I said. But I'm still sorry for scaring you."
"You were scared too," she observed. "You said so."
"I was. Terrified, in fact." He gave a small shudder of his own. "I think having that creature in my head is one of, if not the most terrifying experiences I've had in nine hundred years of travelling through Time and Space."
She turned onto her side and put her hand between his hearts, and he kissed the top of her head. "How do you feel about going back to sleep?"
"Not just yet," she answered. "Will you tell me a story, please?"
"What do you want to hear?"
"Tell me about Grace."
He shifted, trying to see her face, so she lifted her head to look at him. "How do you know about Grace?"
"You mentioned her earlier, when you were possessed. You said she killed you."
"Oh." He pulled a wry face. "I suppose that technically, she did. All right, I'll tell you about Grace, and my regeneration into my eighth body. You'd have liked him I expect."
"Why?"
"Because I was impossibly romantic in those days. I looked a bit Byronic, I suppose - long, curly brown hair, an Edwardian style velvet jacket." He huffed out a laugh. "I'll take you into the Wardrobe and show you the outfit sometime."
She laughed softly. "I look forward to it." She snuggled closer and he tightened his arms around her, then began to talk.
When he'd finished his story, he suggested that Martha change into her pyjamas so she'd be more comfortable, so she went to her room to change. The Doctor had changed into his striped pyjamas that he'd worn in the hospital and she grinned, remembering how mad he'd sounded when he was talking about his 'mate' Benjamin Franklin.
He looked up from the volume of Shakespeare that he'd picked up in her absence, and smiled when he saw her grin. "What's amusing you, Miss Jones?" he asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
"Just remembering you talking about Benjamin Franklin," she answered, joining him on the bed.
He laughed. "Why didn't you just assume I was bonkers?"
It was Martha's turn to laugh. "What makes you think I didn't? Stoker wanted someone from Psychiatric to visit you."
He shook his head. "Come on then, Miss Jones, snuggle under, and I'll see if I can finish reading this play to you before you fall asleep again."
She slid under the duvet, then shifted against his body; maybe they'd never be anything more than friends, she thought as she made herself comfortable, but at least he was a good friend to have.
"Comfy?" he asked. She nodded, so he opened the book out flat and resumed his reading. There was something very pleasant in simply sharing a book and snuggling up together, and he decided that he wouldn't mind spending a whole day with Martha in that manner.
Title: Possession
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha, Tenth Doctor
Rating: PG
Spoilers: S3 up to 42
Summary: Martha discovers the Doctor is still harbouring part of the living sun creature in his head.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish that I did own it!
Author Notes: This fic is a holiday gift for calliopes_pen who requested a fanfic set sometime after 42 - the Doctor gets possessed by that sun creature again. Whether or not it ends well or horribly is up to the writer. I twisted it, slightly, to have the living sun creature still in the Doctor's head after he left the Pentallian.
Beta readers: catholicphoton and abstruse_fangrl
~~~~~~
Martha laid her TARDIS key on the bedside table with a feeling half of reverence and half of nervousness: she almost didn't believe the Doctor had given it to her, despite its very tangible presence here in her room. She shook her head, smiling at herself, then pulled off her shoes before padding in her socks into her ensuite bathroom for a shower. The Doctor had decided he wanted to go ice-skating after their encounter with the living sun, and she had to admit the idea of somewhere chilly after all that heat was attractive. But first she wanted to shower and change out of her sweaty clothes. A long, cold drink wouldn't go amiss, either, she decided as she turned on the shower, then shed her clothes; it wouldn't do to get dehydrated, and she knew she must be slightly dehydrated after all that running about aboard the super-heated Pentallian.
Martha dropped her clothes into the Ali-Baba wicker basket by the bathroom door, then patted the wall beside it with a murmur of thanks, knowing that the ship would have cleaned the clothes by the time she had finished her shower.
As she soaped, lathered, rinsed, then rinsed again, she couldn't help thinking about how frightened the Doctor must have been when he'd been possessed by the living sun creature - he'd never admitted to being scared before, not even when they'd faced the Daleks in New York, and yet the Daleks had been responsible for the destruction of his people and planet. Maybe it was because they were an external threat, she mused. They could be seen and heard, could be fired upon by weapons, and even destroyed, whereas the sun creature worked by taking over the mind and using the body of its victim to kill people and destroy equipment.
She shivered as she thought of how harsh the Doctor had sounded when he'd commanded her to burn with him; she'd been very glad that she hadn't been in his vicinity at that point.
Stepping out of the shower again, Martha dried herself off, then wrapped herself in the midnight blue bathrobe that hung on the back of the door. She used another towel to dry her hair, then turned it into a turban so it wouldn't get in her way while she was getting dressed.
Walking out of the bathroom she uttered a small squeak of surprise and dismay when she found the Doctor standing barely a foot from the door.
"Doctor!" She clutched at her chest, reassuring herself that her heart hadn't stopped out of sheer fright. "You startled me," she said, rather unnecessarily, because he was giving her an unfathomable look from those dark eyes of his, and she was feeling too unnerved to stay silent.
"Sorry," he said perfunctorily, not sounding very apologetic.
"What's wrong?" she asked, wondering why he was even in her bedroom. He'd never come in before, and it was rather disconcerting to have him there now, especially when she was only wearing a bathrobe.
"Nothing," he answered. "I came to tell you we've arrived on Kurhan. You didn't answer your door, and I wondered if you'd fallen asleep in the bath or something."
"Oh." She was touched by his concern, but slightly embarrassed, too. "I'm sorry, I was taking a shower."
"Right." He remained staring at her, and Martha felt a disquieting urge to back away because his gaze seemed to be stripping her bare, and not in a sexy way.
"If you can give me a few minutes, I'll get dressed and join you in the Control Room," she said; somehow she didn't want him to remain in her room: once, she would have been thrilled at the possible scenarios that might unfold as a result of being in this particular situation, but today she just felt unnerved. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't invited him into her room and, until now, he'd always treated it as her private place, always saying goodnight at the door.
"Yes, clothes. Clothes are a good thing. Make sure you wrap up very warmly, Martha Jones. I don't want my medical student getting sick, now do I?" The words tumbled rapidly from his mouth, then he swung around abruptly and practically bolted from the room, leaving Martha feeling perplexed. His behaviour often seemed erratic at the best of times, since he so often swung from manic, excited babbling and bouncing around to brooding silence, but he'd never run away from her before.
Maybe his brain only just caught up she thought. I mentioned getting dressed, and he panicked when he realised I was practically naked? She briefly wondered if he'd have bolted if he'd found Rose in a similar situation, then she banished the thought as pointless speculation.
Martha dressed rapidly, then finished drying her hair; that took the longest to achieve as she didn't want to risk it being even slightly damp when she went outside. She wished she had a hat, or that she had time to hunt for one in the wardrobe, but she was worried about keeping the Doctor waiting any longer - he might get impatient at the delay if she did, and she didn't want to upset him. She grabbed her TARDIS key and draped the chain around her neck, tucking it inside her shirt and the sweater that she'd pulled on over it, then she hurried through the corridors to the Control Room.
She went in half expecting to find the Time Lord pacing, or tapping his foot impatiently at the very least, but instead he was sitting on the padded seat, his arms stretched along the back, and his feet resting on the edge of the console. As she approached, Martha saw he had his eyes closed and she wondered if he'd grown so bored while waiting for her that he'd fallen asleep.
"Martha Jones," he said, his voice sounding huskier than usual as he proved that he wasn't asleep. "You're ready sooner than I expected."
She felt a momentary surge of pleasure at defying his expectations. "I didn't want to keep you waiting," she answered truthfully.
He opened his eyes and smiled. "Are you wrapped up warmly enough?"
"I think so. Not knowing just how cold Kurhan is, compared to Earth."
His smile broadened. "Good answer." He swung his legs down and stood up, then picked up his long coat which had been draped over the seat. He shrugged it on, his eyes never leaving her face as he dug in one of the pockets for a moment before pulling out a small pair of leather gloves and a black woollen hat, which he offered to her.
"Not very fashionable, I'm afraid," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic this time. "But you're such a practical person that perhaps being warm matters more in this instance?"
"Yes. Thank you." She smiled. "I should have known you'd think of this, when I was wishing, just now, that I had time to look for a hat."
"Credit where credit's due," he answered, taking the hat from her again and setting it on her head at a jaunty angle, before he brushed a strand of hair from her face. "It was the TARDIS who provided the hat and gloves. Doubtless she picked up on your thought."
"She can do that?" Martha asked, half-distracted by the lingering sensation of warmth from the Doctor's fingers, even though he'd now shoved his own hands into his pockets.
He laughed. "Oh, there's no end to my ship's talents," he said boastfully, as if he were a proud father speaking of a favourite child. He bent and picked up two pairs of skates from the floor beside the console. "Shall we, Miss Jones?"
"We shall, Mr Smith." Martha's words reminded her of her trip to Shakespeare's England, but she dismissed her memories of cackling Carrionites and an angry monarch: it was unlikely that the Doctor had brought her somewhere dangerous when all he wanted to do was go ice-skating.
He let her precede him down the ramp and open the door onto a snowy landscape that was stained pink by a rising sun.
"Wow," she said softly, awed by the beauty of the snow-laden trees and bushes, and the untrodden snow that lay in front of the TARDIS doors.
The Doctor put a hand in the small of her back and she took the hint to move, stepping out into the snow and feeling relieved that she didn't immediately sink up to her knees or waist, as she'd been half-imagining might happen.
Martha was surprised when the Doctor took his hand from her back and caught hold of her hand instead. He led the way around a copse of trees to a large frozen lake that was a reddish-brown colour, rather than the white of a frozen lake at home.
"You said we were coming to the mineral lakes of Kurhan," she observed, remembering the Doctor's earlier words, and realising that this must be why the lake wasn't white with ice.
"I did," he answered, with a pleased smile that she'd remembered.
He guided her along the shore to an outcrop of rocks from which he dusted the snow, then gestured for her to be seated. "Let me help you put your skates on," he said.
Martha raised an eyebrow, but sat down anyway, and lifted her foot for the Doctor to strap the skate onto it. Once she had both skates on he helped her up, then gave her a quizzical look. "I forgot to ask, can you skate?"
She grinned, then turned away from him and executed an elegant glide out across the ice, before doing a waltz jump and skating back to his side.
"Show off," he teased, but there was affection and amusement in his expression and tone when he spoke.
Martha's grin widened. "I can't do any of the really fancy, complicated jumps," she said. "But I do know the basics."
He shook his head, then sat down and put on his own skates. "Come on then, Miss Basics, let's see what you've got." He held out his hand and she took it, and they set off across the ice together.
They soon had a good rhythm going, and Martha began to relax and enjoy herself, banishing all thoughts of living suns, out of control spaceships, or the Doctor's mercurial behaviour.
"I haven't been ice-skating since 1814," he said, apropos of nothing. "That was the last time the Thames was frozen, well, naturally frozen, that is."
She raise an inquisitive eyebrow. "Are you saying someone went to the trouble of freezing the Thames on purpose? Was it aliens?"
He laughed. "No, it was done for the 2030 Dancing on Ice Special."
Martha snorted. "So even twenty years into my future there's a TV company with more money than sense? Nothing new there, then."
The Doctor laughed again, then began talking about some of the great ice-skaters of the 20th century.
They'd skated for about an hour and a half when Martha started to flag, feeling a chilly ache in her legs and lower back. The Doctor seemed surprised, and even disappointed, when she suggested heading back to the TARDIS for a break to warm up.
"I think I'll stay here for a bit longer," he said, "but you go back if you're too tired." His tone was rather dismissive.
"Sorry to be a party-pooper," she said, feeling a little stung.
"It's okay, I just keep forgetting you humans don't have my Time Lord stamina and strength," he answered. He turned and skated away, leaving Martha staring after him with a hurt expression.
After a moment, when it was obvious he wasn't going to come back to the ship with her, she sat down on the rocks and took off her skates, fumbling awkwardly with the buckles. Then she trudged back to the TARDIS and let herself in. The thrill of being the one to unlock the door as she used her new key for the first time, was diminished by the fact that the Doctor wasn't there to share the moment with her. She crossed the Control Room, leaving the skates, hat and gloves on the seat, then headed into her room to hang up her coat. She remembered her concern about dehydration, and went to the kitchen to get herself a drink, making hot chocolate with sprinkles, and some toast to go with it. She looked around the empty kitchen, then decided that she'd rather sit alone in her room than rattle around the kitchen on her own.
* * * * * *
Martha ate her toast, drank her hot chocolate, and then ate a couple of bananas as well, all while catching up on some of her reading for her course, but after a couple of hours of studying the effects of her day caught up with her, and she dropped off to sleep, the book she'd been holding falling off the bed with a quiet thunk that didn't rouse her. The TARDIS, as was her usual practise, dimmed the lights once Martha had been asleep for about fifteen minutes, so that the young human wasn't disturbed.
She had been asleep for roughly two hours when a nightmare brought her awake with a startled cry that turned into an outright scream as she registered someone looming over her in the dim light.
"Martha!" snapped the Doctor, his voice harsh.
She gasped, looking up at him fearfully as the lights in the room returned to their usual level of illumination and revealed a strange light in the Doctor's eyes.
"What are you screaming at me for?" he demanded.
"You scared me," she answered in a small voice. "I was having a nightmare about that sun creature, and then I woke up and someone was leaning over me - it seemed as if my dream had become reality."
He tutted, then stepped back from the bed a little way. "Well, if you've finished wasting your life away, sleeping, I thought we could go somewhere else."
She scrubbed at her face with her hand, trying to bring her mind back from the nightmare images that had crowded into it. "Right, I'll just tidy up my books and stuff, then I'll be with you."
"Yeah, okay," he answered.
He went out, leaving Martha feeling hurt all over again. He seemed to have been really moody since they had left the SS Pentallian, and while she understood that being possessed by a living sun was hardly the most enjoyable of experiences, she had expected him to shake it off by now. Maybe she was being unreasonable, or expecting too much, but she couldn't help going by her past experience, and he'd bounced back quickly enough after being struck by lightning when he was trying to stop the Daleks.
"He's a Time Lord, Martha, the usual rules don't apply," she told herself. The TARDIS' hum seemed to increase in response to her words, and once she'd stacked her books up on her desk, she couldn't resist running a hand down the wall. "Do you know what's up with him?" she asked. "And can you tell me, if you do?"
The ship just hummed in response, and she sighed heavily, then turned to her dressing table to tidy her hair before heading out to the Control Room, straightening her sleep-rumpled clothes as she went.
This time when she went in, the Doctor was pacing around the Control Room, an impatient expression on his face that made Martha's heart sink just a little as she approached him.
"There you are!" he exclaimed, as if she'd kept him waiting hours instead of a few minutes. He turned and began his usual 'dance' around the console to get them moving.
"So, where are we going?" Martha asked conversationally.
"Wait and see!" he said, rather snappishly.
"Sorry I asked," she muttered, now feeling slightly fed up with his bad temper.
"What?" he demanded, whirling around on the spot and almost knocking her over.
"Nothing," Martha answered, more loudly. She watched him stalk around the console and bit her lip in indecision. She desperately wanted to ask him what was wrong, because she had thought they were into new territory now that he'd given her a key to the TARDIS, but at the moment it didn't feel like they were friends. She couldn't quite believe he was still upset with her for giving up on the ice-skating before he was ready - surely he wasn't that childish?
As he came back around the console again, Martha stepped to the side, out of his way, but he stepped in the same direction so that she was still in his path. She wanted to make a joke out of it, but looking up, she could see the same weird light in his eyes that she'd seen when he woke her from her nightmare, and it unnerved her.
"Just stand still, will you?" he snapped angrily.
"I'm sorry," she answered, biting back anger and tears.
"What's the matter with you? Is it because we left your boyfriend on the Pentallian?"
"My boyfriend?" asked Martha, baffled.
"That Vashtee fellow, the one you were so busy snogging before we left."
She stared at him. "Riley wasn't my boyfriend," she said. "He was a friend who was kind to me when we thought were both going to die in that escape pod."
"Why did you kiss him then?"
She gaped at him, then laughed shortly. "Is that what your bad mood's about?" she asked. "You're jealous of me kissing Riley?"
He span around and grabbed her shoulders, gripping them painfully tight. "Don't be stupid, Martha Jones," he said, glaring down at her. "Why would I be jealous of a silly boy kissing you? I'm not your boyfriend."
She tried to pull away because not only were his fingers digging into her shoulders, but his hands were unusually warm, and she could have sworn that she could feel heat radiating from his body.
"Doctor!" she gasped when he didn't immediately let her go. "You're hurting me."
He pushed her away, none too gently, so that she stumbled up against the seat. "I could hurt you worse than that, Martha Jones. I don't think you realise just how much power I wield as a Time Lord. I can destroy people or planets, with just a few words. I can see the whole of the future and the past - an individual's or a whole world's - so I know exactly what to do to change their future. I could easily compel people to worship me, to make sacrifices, or start wars in my name."
He was striding around the console as he spoke, while Martha cowered against the seat, wondering what had got into him. She was actually beginning to suspect that it was less a case of something having got into him, than of something not having got out of him - namely the sun creature, especially since his body temperature seemed unusually high and to be going up gradually as his temper worsened.
Martha wondered what she could do to help him - because it seemed obvious to her that he needed help, although she wasn't sure he would admit that at the moment. She tried to remember whether there was a stasis chamber in the TARDIS medical bay - which she'd only briefly seen when the Doctor was showing her around the ship after she first came aboard.
"Are you even listening to me?" he demanded, breaking into her worried reverie.
She looked up at him and flinched: there was a bright light in his eyes now and she remembered the light she'd seen there after he'd been possessed, when he'd been yelling at McDonnell for scooping out the sun's heart.
"I am listening," she said quickly. "You were talking about the power you can wield as a Time Lord, and how you could make people worship you if you chose."
He smiled, but it wasn't a particularly friendly smile, particularly with that bright light shining out of his eyes. "Good."
"Doctor, I couldn't help noticing just now that your body temperature is a bit higher than usual and I was thinking maybe we should check that out in the medical bay?"
He glowered. "You doctors are always the same, always wanting to poke and prod me about. I suppose if you had your way, Martha Jones, you'd cut me open just so you could see what makes me tick?"
"I wouldn't - " she began, horrified at the idea, but he didn't let her finish.
"I'm not a science experiment, you know! I'm a living, breathing, thinking Time Lord, and I could wipe out your existence like that!" He snapped his fingers in her face.
"Please, Doctor, I just wanted to check you were okay," she protested. "You were possessed by a living sun, after all."
"Oh yes, that's what you all say. I haven't forgotten the way Grace killed me, you know!"
Martha gave him a bewildered look. "But - " she began.
"Shut. UP!" he shouted, leaning over her. "You humans are all the same, you always end up destroying things. You pollute the Earth, then go out into the galaxy and spread your filth everywhere. You - " He gasped suddenly, then staggered backwards, and Martha straightened up, feeling alarmed as she realised that sweat was pouring down his face now. "Martha - " he said weakly, then collapsed.
She darted forwards to where he sprawled in an ungainly heap across the floor, and slipping a finger into his collar, winced at the heat that almost burnt her skin as she felt for his pulse. She swallowed the lump in her throat that was threatening to choke her, then sagged in relief when she found the double beat beneath her fingers, although his hearts, normally slower than a human's, were racing madly now. She got to her feet and hurried to the medical bay, where she grabbed a handy wheelchair; she quickly wheeled it back to the Control Room and across to where the Doctor still lay.
It took her ten minutes of struggling with both the unconscious Time Lord and the wheelchair, which tipped over twice, before she managed to get him into it. His long limbs were hard to manipulate and while he was definitely skinny, he was still awkward to manoeuvre because he was so much taller than Martha. Eventually, though, she got him seated safely and wheeled him through to the medical bay.
"I don't know what even half the equipment is for in here," she told the TARDIS. "So I'm going to need you to help me, if you can, since he can't."
The ship hummed in response, then the nearest bed lowered itself until it was at the same height as the seat of the wheelchair.
"Thank you." Martha got the Doctor onto the bed, then took off his Converse and socks, then his jacket and his tie, before she straightened up and looked around the room.
"We need to lower his body temperature," she said, remembering what the Doctor had told her aboard the Pentallian.
There was a clunk behind her, and she turned to see a store cupboard, its door slowly swinging open. She hurried over and found it was packed full of gel packs; taking one out she saw that it was labelled 'Ice Pack' and that there were instructions in English explaining how to use it.
"Thanks!" she exclaimed, gladly. She grabbed a handful of the packs and carried them over to the bed, then began activating them and placing them around his body. After she'd lined up several alongside each leg, she unbuttoned and removed the Doctor's sweat-soaked shirt and t-shirt, then positioned more of the packs around his torso too.
He moaned and twitched, and she wondered if he was waking up, hoping that he would be so that he could tell her what to do, and what equipment to use. Unfortunately, he didn't wake, but he did start mumbling in a language which Martha had to assume was Gallifreyan.
"Now what?" she asked the ship, worried that she hadn't done enough; the Doctor had told her to freeze the sun creature out of him at minus 200, and she wasn't convinced that the gel ice packs would bring his temperature that low.
This time there was a rattling noise behind her and when she turned around she saw a metal tray on the counter by the sink; on the tray was what looked like a marker pen. Martha picked it up with some curiosity, and saw a neatly-printed label on it; the name of the drug was, unsurprisingly, completely unfamiliar to her, but the label gave directions on how to use the device to deliver the drug. She wondered what the drug was specifically for, but knew she'd have to trust that the TARDIS, at least, knew how best to treat an infected and overheated Time Lord, because Martha herself had only a faint idea.
She took the 'pen' over to the bed and, following the directions on the label, administered the drug into the Doctor's thigh.
Several minutes later he groaned loudly and when she moved to the head of the bed, he opened his eyes and blinked at her a few times before his gaze focused on her face.
"Martha?" he wheezed.
"Yes Doctor, I'm here." She was relieved to see that his eyes were back to normal, and hoped that meant that the sun creature was being overcome.
"What happened?"
"As far as I can work out, that living sun creature was still inside you," she answered. "It was infecting you, making your behaviour and mood erratic. Then you collapsed, so I brought you into the medical bay. The TARDIS has been helping me to look after you."
"Sorry."
He sounded genuinely apologetic, remorseful even, so she didn't hesitate to accept his apology. "It's okay," she answered. "You weren't yourself."
He groped across the bed until he found her hand, and clasped it. "Good job I brought a Doctor with me," he muttered.
"I'm not a doctor yet," she answered, squeezing his fingers. She didn't tell him that he'd railed against doctors earlier.
"You will be," he said. "Be a brilliant doctor, Martha Jones."
"Thanks." She felt touched by his confidence. "Hadn't you better get some rest?"
"Sleep, good thing, sleep," he answered, his words sounding more slurred now. She wondered if that was the effect of the drug she'd given him, and resolved to ask him once he was well again.
* * * * * *
The Doctor slept for a couple of hours, his hand in Martha's the whole time; she had dozed off herself soon after he fell asleep.
She woke them both up with a cry of horror when her nightmare from before returned, and she almost fell off the chair when she jerked herself awake.
"Martha." He sounded less wheezy this time when he said her name.
"Sorry, nightmare," she said, pushing herself back onto the chair, then looking over at the Time Lord. "Are you okay?" She could see goosebumps and the fine hairs standing up on his arms.
"Feeling better," he answered. "Bit cold, though."
"I'm not surprised, with all those ice packs around you. Shall I remove them?" He nodded, so she collected them up. "What should I do with them?" she asked.
"If you put them back where you found them, the TARDIS will recycle them," he answered.
"Neat." She opened the cupboard door, then stacked them on the bottom shelf as the top shelf, from where she'd taken them earlier, was now full again.
"Could I trouble you for a drink?" the Doctor asked when she'd finished.
"No trouble," she assured him. "Tea?" He nodded eagerly. "All right. I'll just be a few minutes. Don't move from that spot."
He gave her a clumsy salute. "Ma'am."
She laughed softly, then went out, relieved that he did seem to be recovering from being possessed by the sun creature. On the way back from the kitchen she stopped in her room to get her bathrobe for him to wear: she had no idea where the Doctor's bedroom was located, and she didn't want him to put back on his sweaty t-shirt and shirt, so the bathrobe would have to do until he was on his feet again.
When Martha walked in, the Doctor was shivering, and his expression was tense. She set down the tea tray, then gave him the bathrobe. "Are you okay?" she asked.
He nodded, but the tense expression remained as he wrapped the bathrobe around himself. "I - " He stopped, blushing, and Martha had a sudden flash of insight. She turned and walked across the room, hoping the TARDIS would know what the Doctor wanted so he wouldn't have to ask and neither would she. Fortunately the door to a low cupboard opened and Martha saw what she was looking for inside.
"Here," she said, handing the Doctor the plastic urine bottle, then turned her back to make them both a mug of tea.
When she turned around again a couple of minutes later, he was looking less tense but faintly embarrassed. She gave him the mug of tea, then brought her own mug and a plate of chocolate biscuits over to sit beside him again.
"Thank you," he said, a fervent note in his voice.
"No problem," she answered. She knew he was more grateful that she'd anticipated his need to pee, without making him ask for what he wanted, than he was for the mug of tea, but it didn't matter. He was normally so in control that this situation was probably making him uncomfortable enough without adding embarrassment over his biological functions to the equation.
"Can I get up soon?" he asked.
"If you do, will you promise to get some rest?" she countered.
"I think that would be a good idea," he agreed.
Martha's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You're agreeing to get some rest? You must be feeling rough," she said, teasing him a little.
He pulled a face. "I am," he admitted.
"Very well, then. Finish your tea and biscuits, and then you can get up."
"Thank you."
* * * * * *
Five minutes later, the Doctor was making his way through the TARDIS' corridors to his bedroom, with Martha at his side, at his insistence. She felt oddly nervous about visiting the Doctor's bedroom - he'd kept it private until now, just as her room had been private from him until today. But she sensed that he was feeling vulnerable still, so she hadn't refused when he'd asked her to go with him.
Finally they reached a door with a leaf pattern around the frame, and she followed him inside to find herself in what was almost a suite of rooms; there was a king size bed in a half room-sized alcove to the right, and what amounted to a library in a similar alcove to the left. The middle part of the room seemed to be a combination of study and workshop, with a couple of shabby but comfortable-looking armchairs near the far wall, a stool near a crowded workbench, and a leather 'executive' chair, such as Martha had seen in office supply catalogues, next to a large oak desk. She waited to see where the Doctor was going to sit, but he surprised her by heading towards the bed; he pulled out a drawer underneath it, and took out a t-shirt and a shirt, then put them down on the corner of the bed.
"Do you want something to eat?" she asked, not really wanting to watch him getting dressed; it was one thing to undress him when he was unconscious, but quite another to see him half-naked when he was properly awake.
He looked up. "You don't have to run around after me," he said, frowning. "You've done quite enough for me for one day."
"I wasn't planning on running," she answered, grinning. "Besides, I've only had two slices of toast and a couple of bananas in the last few hours, so I'm going to get something for myself."
His face brightened slightly. "Well, if you're going to be eating as well, yes please."
"Okay."
When Martha returned about twenty minutes later, the Doctor was fully dressed again, and sitting on his bed, his back against the headboard and his glasses on as he read a large, leather-bound book. He scrambled off the bed, however, when she came in, and hurried to guide over to his desk the tea-trolley that she'd found waiting in the kitchen. He stacked up books and papers on one end of the desk, then they set out the food that Martha had brought.
"Sit here," he said, tapping the back of the leather chair, before fetching the stool from alongside the workbench.
She sat down, then grabbed a spoon and began to tuck into the thick vegetable broth that she'd heated up; the TARDIS' fridge seemed to need restocking very rarely, and she'd found several plastic containers of ready-prepared soup, all of them bearing neat, hand-written labels. There was also fresh meat, fish, pasta and vegetables in the fridge, so she'd made a meal from some of the fish, pasta and vegetables to follow the soup. She'd also made a large pot of the Doctor's favourite blend of tea.
They ate mostly in silence, both of them concentrating on satisfying their hunger pangs; when they had finished the Doctor loaded the empty crockery onto the trolley, then wheeled it into the corridor, leaving only the tea things and a cake tin on his desk.
"What's that?" he asked, nodding at the cake tin.
"That banana bread that you like so much," Martha answered.
"You're a star," he said, beaming fondly. He picked it up and carried it over to the bedside table, then carried across the tea things.
"Come on," he said, waggling his fingers at her.
She raised her eyebrows inquisitively, but took his hand and let him lead her over to his bed.
"I'm going to read to you, if that's okay?"
She nodded. "Shouldn't I bring the stool over?"
It was his turn to raise his eyebrows. "Why?" he asked. "The bed's far more comfortable."
Martha felt a blush heating her cheeks. "I - um - " She looked away, embarrassed by his puzzlement.
He waited and eventually she sat down on the edge of the bed, darting a quick look up at his face as he sat down beside her.
"Do you mind if I lie down?" he asked.
She shook her head, then stood up again so he could swing his legs up onto the bed. He shifted over into the middle of the bed, then patted the duvet beside him.
"I won't bite," he teased gently.
"If you do, I'll bite you back," she answered, then giggled at his surprised expression. She settled beside him, and didn't flinch when he put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. He fished his glasses out of his jacket pocket and put them on, then opened the book again.
"I thought you might enjoy some Shakespeare," he said.
"Okay."
He cleared his throat, then began to read:
Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow
This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires,
Like to a step-dame or a dowager
Long withering out a young man revenue.
Martha grinned as she realised he was reading A Midsummer Night's Dream, one of her favourite Shakespearean comedies.
* * * * * *
The Doctor read for an hour, before taking a break for tea and cake, then he went back to reading. He was half way through Act III when he realised Martha had fallen asleep, so he set the book aside and shifted carefully so that they were both lying down. He could wake her and send her back to her room, but he didn't want to risk interrupting her sleep to such an extent that she couldn't go off again. Besides, it felt comforting to have her there.
He took his glasses off and closed his eyes, knowing the TARDIS wouldn't dim the lights if he appeared to want to stay awake, and he could think just as easily in the dark. He wanted to try to remember what he'd said and done while the sun creature had been possessing him, because his memories were rather hazy at the moment.
The Doctor fell asleep before he could recall much beyond skating with Martha on one of the mineral lakes of Kurhan; he woke some hours later with a start when someone cried out very close at hand, and it took him a moment to realise that it was Martha, and she was having a nightmare again.
He sat up, then shook her to wake her. She cried out again, and struggled with him until he was able to coax her into realising she was dreaming.
"Oh god!" she gasped, wrapping her arms around her knees; she was shuddering and he quickly wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back soothingly.
"It's okay," he said. "It was just a dream."
She turned and clung to him, and he held her more tightly, then lay back down, bringing Martha with him. "I'm sorry that I frightened you today."
"Not your fault," she answered. "You weren't yourself."
"No," he agreed. "I don't even remember everything I said. But I'm still sorry for scaring you."
"You were scared too," she observed. "You said so."
"I was. Terrified, in fact." He gave a small shudder of his own. "I think having that creature in my head is one of, if not the most terrifying experiences I've had in nine hundred years of travelling through Time and Space."
She turned onto her side and put her hand between his hearts, and he kissed the top of her head. "How do you feel about going back to sleep?"
"Not just yet," she answered. "Will you tell me a story, please?"
"What do you want to hear?"
"Tell me about Grace."
He shifted, trying to see her face, so she lifted her head to look at him. "How do you know about Grace?"
"You mentioned her earlier, when you were possessed. You said she killed you."
"Oh." He pulled a wry face. "I suppose that technically, she did. All right, I'll tell you about Grace, and my regeneration into my eighth body. You'd have liked him I expect."
"Why?"
"Because I was impossibly romantic in those days. I looked a bit Byronic, I suppose - long, curly brown hair, an Edwardian style velvet jacket." He huffed out a laugh. "I'll take you into the Wardrobe and show you the outfit sometime."
She laughed softly. "I look forward to it." She snuggled closer and he tightened his arms around her, then began to talk.
When he'd finished his story, he suggested that Martha change into her pyjamas so she'd be more comfortable, so she went to her room to change. The Doctor had changed into his striped pyjamas that he'd worn in the hospital and she grinned, remembering how mad he'd sounded when he was talking about his 'mate' Benjamin Franklin.
He looked up from the volume of Shakespeare that he'd picked up in her absence, and smiled when he saw her grin. "What's amusing you, Miss Jones?" he asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
"Just remembering you talking about Benjamin Franklin," she answered, joining him on the bed.
He laughed. "Why didn't you just assume I was bonkers?"
It was Martha's turn to laugh. "What makes you think I didn't? Stoker wanted someone from Psychiatric to visit you."
He shook his head. "Come on then, Miss Jones, snuggle under, and I'll see if I can finish reading this play to you before you fall asleep again."
She slid under the duvet, then shifted against his body; maybe they'd never be anything more than friends, she thought as she made herself comfortable, but at least he was a good friend to have.
"Comfy?" he asked. She nodded, so he opened the book out flat and resumed his reading. There was something very pleasant in simply sharing a book and snuggling up together, and he decided that he wouldn't mind spending a whole day with Martha in that manner.