On the Porch
Title: On the Porch
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha, Jack, Tish Jones
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: The Last of the Time Lords
Summary: The Doctor visits Doctor Martha Jones in order to change her future.
Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Doctor Who" and the Doctor owns me…
Author Notes: This fic is for dirgni19 using two lines from a song in her fanmix: Maybe I'll sleep inside my coat and/Wait on the porch 'til you come back home (Split Screen Sadness - John Mayer)
This initially started out as fluffy-ish, but developed into angst and hurt/comfort completely out of nowhere. Sometimes my brain and the Bunny!Muses worry me!
Beta: padawanpooh the patient!
~~~~~~
Martha was weary as she walked back from work at four am. It had been a long night in A&E: a multiple pile-up in freezing fog had resulted in everyone being rushed off their feet dealing with the casualties, some of whom had later become fatalities. She walked with her head down, tired, aching and more than a little heartsick since one of the patients she hadn't been able to save was a young boy of nine. It was times like this when she wished she'd gone into an office-bound medical job instead.
She climbed the three steps up to the front of the house where she had a ground floor flat, and nearly jumped out of her skin when a hoarse voice spoke from the corner of the porch.
"Doctor Jones."
She stared in disbelief at the sight of the Doctor, wrapped up in his long coat, huddled in the corner of the porch. "Doctor? What are you doing here?" She frowned. "Are you OK?"
He nodded and straightened up, wincing as he stretched. "I was waiting for you," he said.
She frowned again. "How long have you been there? And why didn't you let yourself in?"
"That would have been rude, don't you think?"
She bit her tongue to stop herself making the obvious retort. "How long have you been there?" she repeated.
"Since ten last night."
She gaped, then unlocked the door. "Get inside for goodness sake." She bundled him through the two doors into her flat. "What kind of idiot are you, to spend all night on my porch?" she demanded, worry filling her voice. "Have you any idea how cold it was last night?"
"Minus 3," he answered matter-of-factly, not seeming to realise that Martha's question had been intended rhetorically.
She scowled, then clasped his wrist in her left hand, whilst putting the back of her right hand to his forehead. "You're cold, even for you," she said. "Go and have a shower and warm yourself up, whilst I make some tea and breakfast."
"Martha I - "
She gave him a glare, hands on hips, and looking very like her mother. "Shower," she said firmly. "I don't need a sick Time Lord on my hands."
He shrugged out of his coat.
"Are you on your own?" she asked.
"I've got a Companion, Donna, but she's gone to spend a few days with her mother. Her dad died not too long ago and Donna likes to visit her mother every so often."
"What's she like?" asked Martha, curiosity overcoming her annoyance for a moment.
"An older redhead. Often loud, given to slapping me when I'm being too 'Martian' for her tastes."
"Martian?" she queried.
He nodded. "When we first met, she referred to me as 'Martian boy'. Even though she knows I'm not from Mars, she still refers to me as Martian - I think she does it to annoy me."
Martha hid a smirk. "Does it work?"
"Not often, not any more," he answered, grinning. "I think you'd get on well with her. She's a very down-to-Earth type, good-hearted, and not half as stupid as she likes to pretend."
She nodded. "Shower," she said. "Second door on the left. Towels are in the airing cupboard, and don’t nick all my shower gel!"
He gave her a sketchy salute and went through to the bathroom whilst Martha went into the kitchen and filled the kettle, then started pulling out food and crockery to make some breakfast.
When he wandered into the kitchen ten minutes later, his hair still damp from the shower, jacket and tie off, Martha had breakfast waiting for him.
"Sit down," she said, pointing to a chair, before she put a bowl of porridge in front of him. "Help yourself," she said, indicating the honey, syrup and cream she'd set out on the table.
The Doctor added a large spoonful of honey to his porridge and began to eat as Martha poured them both mugs of tea, then set down her own bowl of porridge and joined him.
They ate in silence apart from the radio in the background and the scrape of their spoons.
"Tell me about last night," the Doctor said gently when they'd finished eating.
She looked up. "How did you know?" she asked abruptly.
He reached out and put his hand over hers, squeezing her fingers gently. "I know you, Martha Jones. I know the look you get when you can't save someone."
She shook her head, then got up, pulling away from him. "Toast?" she asked.
"Martha - "
"I don't want to talk about it," she said sharply. "Toast?"
"Yes please." He watched silently as she put four slices of bread into the toaster and stood waiting for it to brown: her back was stiff and her shoulders set. He got up quietly and went over to her, sliding his arms around her middle. She tensed up for a moment, then relaxed again, leaning back into his embrace.
"I'm sorry I snapped," she said.
"It's OK," he assured her. He continued to hold her until the toast was ready, then they sat down again to eat.
"Do you want some more tea?" she asked after they'd finished eating.
"Yes please, but I’ll make it this time."
She watched as the Doctor expertly made another pot which they carried through to the sitting room. They sat down together on the sofa and Martha started asking him about his recent travels and they talked whilst they drank their tea.
"You need to get some sleep," he observed as she yawned.
She nodded. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Would you like to sleep on the TARDIS? I can take her into the Vortex whilst you sleep, then bring you back a couple of hours from now and you'll still have the rest of your day."
"Why?" she asked, sounding suspicious.
"I thought you could do with the chance to sleep as long as you needed," he answered.
She looked at him suspiciously, certain there was more to this than met the eye. Why had he spent all night on her porch waiting for her if the TARDIS was nearby? On the other hand, the chance to sleep her fill for once, knowing she wouldn't be woken by her neighbours, car alarms or sirens, was too good to pass up.
"Okay" She stood up. "I'll get my pyjamas."
He smiled in obvious delight and followed her out into the hall, putting on his tie and jacket, then his coat whilst he waited for Martha to return.
A few minutes later, he unlocked the door to the TARDIS and Martha stepped inside carrying a small overnight bag. The ship's background hum took on a distinctly joyful note and the Doctor grinned at Martha when she looked at him in surprise.
"She's always loved you," he told her simply, before bounding up the ramp to the console. "Welcome back aboard Doctor Jones."
Martha ran a hand up a coral strut and felt a pleasant tingle in her hand. "Hello," she whispered and couldn't help smiling when the tingle increased.
"Go and get some sleep," the Doctor suggested. "Your room's exactly where it always was, and if you need anything, let the TARDIS know and she'll tell me."
She nodded, then headed towards her room, her small bag slung over one shoulder. Once in her room, Martha decided to take a quick bath before sleeping since she hadn't had a shower yet. It felt odd to be back on the TARDIS, but the ship's joyful hum soon soothed away any uneasiness and she settled into her bed with the wonderful feeling of coming home.
* * * * * *
The Doctor pottered around the TARDIS, doing little jobs here and there, things he'd been putting off whilst he and Donna were travelling, but now had time to do whilst he waited for Martha to sleep herself out.
There was one 'adventure' that he and Donna had recently had that he hadn't mentioned to Martha. It was the reason he was here now, the reason why he'd stayed on her porch all night rather than risk missing her. What he was planning was against all the laws of the Time Lords, but since they were no more, he had absolutely no qualms about interfering with a timeline. Besides, if he didn't, his beautiful, brave Martha Jones, saviour of the Earth, would be dead before her 25th birthday - and that was a completely intolerable prospect.
He finished his jobs and flopped down into the Captain's chair, wondering how much he dared to tell Martha. The difficulty was that she was as sharp as a knife and quite capable of putting any number of things together to come up with the right answer. After he'd dropped Donna off, he'd spent a lot of time and effort in following her personal timeline backwards from her death, knowing that he had to find the moment that tipped the balance. He'd gone right back to the moment when she'd left him after he'd rewound time, and found that this day was where the chain of events had started that had led to her death four months from now.
He was taking a huge risk, he knew that: interfering in people's lives in such a deliberate manner was dangerous and he ran the risk of things unravelling in worse ways, but he was a Time Lord and he was the only person who could do this. Besides, he was damned if he going to refrain from using his powers to save Martha's life, after all the times she'd saved his.
He was so lost in his thoughts that Martha walked into his line of sight before he even knew she was awake.
"Doctor?" Martha had immediately noticed his pensive look and wondered if she was going to find out why he'd turned up out of the blue, six months after she'd left him.
"Hello. Feeling better?"
"Yes thanks." She joined him on the Captain's chair. "So are you going to tell me what you're doing here? You must have had a pretty good reason to spend six hours on my porch in freezing temperatures."
He took a deep breath. "There are some things we need to talk about - and I couldn't put it off any longer."
"That sounds ominous."
He nodded. "Let's go for a walk," he suggested, standing up.
She lifted an eyebrow, surprised. "OK." She slid off the chair and took the hand he offered her: they hadn't tended to hold hands that often as he usually offered her an arm instead.
He led her through the corridors, going deeper into the TARDIS than she'd ever been before, until he stopped in front of a door that looked like any other until she realised that there was an outline of a butterfly above the handle. He opened it, then stepped aside for her to enter first.
"Oh!" Her soft exclamation of surprise and wonder was met with a grin of pure delight from the Doctor as he took her hand again and walked her through a room, if it could be called a room since it looked more like a meadow, teeming with butterflies.
"This is gorgeous," Martha said, stopping to gaze around in fascination.
"I'm glad you like it," the Doctor answered, looking as if he meant it. "Martha, I - " He broke off and looked down at their clasped hands.
"Doctor what's wrong?"
He took a deep breath then blew it out again. "I'm sorry."
"What have you done this time?" she teased.
"It's not what I've done, it's what I haven't done, or rather didn't do."
Her eyebrows rose. "You're not making much sense," she said. "Care to help me out?"
"Let's sit down," he suggested. They settled on the grass and sighed before he began. "I never gave you the chance to talk about what happened to you when you walked the Earth."
"It doesn't matter," Martha assured him, but she pulled her hand away from his and folded her arms across her chest.
The Doctor reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Martha, it does matter. It matters more than you know and more than I had realised."
She gave him a sharp, suspicious look, and he could see her processing the implications of his words. "You know something," she said slowly. "You've seen something, something about me?"
He nodded, watching her intently.
"What have you seen?" she asked.
"I can't tell you."
"Then why are you here?" she asked, glaring now.
"Because you need to talk about what you experienced during the year I rewound." He gave her the most pleading look she'd ever seen on his face.
Martha felt unsettled by his insistence. She didn't want to talk about that year to him or anyone else. She'd never discussed it with her parents or Tish, though she had insisted that they all visit a psychiatrist regularly: she and Jack had arranged that via a contact of his at UNIT. Jack had suggested that she see someone as well but she'd been so adamant in her refusal that he hadn't dared to mention it again.
Martha didn't tell the Doctor that she'd been having nightmares ever since the day she'd walked out of the TARDIS to look after her family, nor did she tell him that the nightmares were steadily getting worse. The few hours’ sleep she'd just had here on the TARDIS was the first nightmare-free rest that she'd experienced in the six months since she'd left. She had switched to working almost non-stop nightshifts at the hospital in the hope that she'd be too tired to dream when she slept, but that hadn't worked, and she didn't dare take sleeping tablets in case the side effects ruined her judgement.
The Doctor watched her, knowing that he couldn't force her to talk, but knowing that if she didn't talk to him, he'd lose her. He wondered how much to tell her: if he told Martha that her life depended on her talking to him now, she might just think he was being dramatic, after all she didn't have his centuries of experience of watching timelines unfold.
He wondered what he could say to persuade her, then he wondered if he should show her instead: just enough to persuade her to talk to him, to start her healing before her depression stopped her from functioning properly.
"Come on." He got up and held out his hand to her.
She looked at him, bewildered. "Where are we going?"
"There's something I need to show you."
She took his hand and allowed him to pull her up, before he led her back to the Control Room. He began moving around the console and she sat down on the Captain's chair, knowing he was setting the coordinates to take them out of the Vortex to a specific time and place.
"Have you got your TARDIS key with you?"
She nodded, then reached into her jeans pocket and pulled it out. After the year that wasn't he had deactivated the perception filter on her key and Jack's, knowing that the power of going unnoticed would be a temptation, but she still tended to carry it in her pocket: wearing it would be too much of a reminder of what she'd given up on the day she'd walked out on him.
"May I?" he asked, holding out his left hand.
She rubbed a finger over the ridges of the key, marvelling yet again at its apparent simplicity, then dropped it into his hand, looping the silver chain onto his palm.
He delved into his inside jacket pocket, pulling out his Sonic Screwdriver, then adjusted the settings before pointing it at the key. After a few minutes the tiny chip that activated the perception filter momentarily glowed red, then blue, before fading back to silver again.
"Put it on," he said as he handed it back, then pulled out his own key and reactivated the perception filter. He slipped the string over his head as Martha dropped her key back around her neck, then turned to the console again.
"We'll be arriving in a moment," he said.
"Where?"
"London: about three weeks in your future."
She stared at him, speechless with surprise. He moved to her side and raised a finger in warning.
"This is strictly forbidden, so it's just as well there are no more Time Lords around to kick my backside for what we're about to do. But the fact there's no one to do that, doesn't mean we can ignore the rules I'm about to give you." He held her shoulders and fixed his gaze on her face, staring into her dark, expressive eyes.
"Whatever happens, you must not, absolutely must not, touch anyone except me. In particular you must not touch yourself."
"Myself?" she whispered.
The Doctor nodded. "You remember what I told Billy Shipton, back in 1969?"
Her eyes widened further. "You mean, about two-thirds of the universe?"
"Yes."
"The same is true in this situation." He held her steady as the TARDIS landed, then dropped his hands from her shoulders, before taking her right hand in his left. "Remember: no touching, no matter what."
"I promise." She wondered if he knew how nervous she was feeling.
He nodded. He could tell she was anxious and if he was honest with himself, he was feeling a little uneasy about this himself. He hadn't forgotten the last time he'd taken a Companion to an event in their own timeline: hopefully this time there wouldn't be any reason for Reapers to get involved.
The Doctor led her down the ramp and opened the TARDIS door, then allowed her to step out first. He locked the door, then took her hand again and led her towards an average looking Mediaeval Anglican church. The door was ajar and he gently edged it open further, then led Martha inside and over to an empty pew at the back.
Martha looked towards the front of the church and realised that they'd arrived at a funeral. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw herself about half way down the right hand side of the aisle: her future self was wearing a black suit and had her hair up in a very severe bun. It was, she decided, quite the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her in all the time she'd known the Doctor.
After a while she focused on the minister who was presiding over the service; she couldn't see the coffin from where they sat, but as she listened she discovered that they were at the funeral of a small girl who'd been killed in a hit-and-run accident. The Doctor was still holding her hand, but he let go and she put both her hands to her mouth to keep herself quiet. He put his arm around her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head, watching the other Martha and the tall figure in a blue greatcoat who sat with his arm around her shoulders.
"That's Jack," Martha whispered, having suddenly recognised him.
"Yes," he answered softly
She didn't speak again, she just watched as the service proceeded. When the coffin bearers stepped forward, the Doctor spoke in her ear again. "We'll wait until they've all gone."
She gave a small nod and watched as Jack helped her other self into her coat, then began to guide her up the aisle, one arm around her shoulders. When the pair got close enough to see their faces, Martha grabbed the Doctor's knee, shoving her other hand into her mouth to stop herself from exclaiming aloud in shock.
Her future self, only three weeks older than she was now, looked as if she'd aged at least five years. Martha knew all too well the signs of her own exhaustion: the marks of sleeplessness around her eyes, the slump of her shoulders, the way she carried her head as if it was too heavy for her neck to support properly.
Jack guided her out of the church and Martha turned to the Doctor. "What happened?" she asked in a quiet voice.
He shook his head, then stood up and held out his hand, leading her outside and back to the TARDIS.
"What happened to her, to me I mean?" Martha asked urgently once they were back in the Control Room.
"Things are starting to take their toll," he said simply, watching her closely.
She walked unsteadily over to the Captain's chair and slumped down on it.
"Martha, I was serious when I said you needed to talk to me."
"I can't. I just can't."
He sighed heavily. "Very well." He turned back to the console and began setting coordinates again, ignoring her for now.
She sat unconsciously twisting her hands together as she wrestled with her thoughts. The thought of talking about what she'd gone through whilst walking the world terrified her: the dreams were quite bad enough, talking about it would just make them worse and she already knew she was only barely getting enough sleep.
The Doctor stood watching his Companion from the other side of the console; he desperately wanted to grab her and shake her until she saw sense, but he knew he'd only alienate her if he did.
The TARDIS ground to an unsteady halt and she looked up finally. "Are we home?" she asked.
"No."
"Then where or when are we?" She was surprised he hadn't taken her straight back home again after she'd refused to talk to him a second time.
"London again. Two months further ahead."
She stared at him. "Why?"
"Because I don't know how else to persuade you to talk to me," he said sadly. He crossed to the seat. "Come on."
She stood up, her legs feeling shaky now, and automatically took the hand he offered her, following him back down the ramp.
They stepped out into a darkened street and Martha immediately looked up for a glimpse of the stars. The Doctor waited a moment, then set off down the street and she hurried to keep up with his longer legs even as she tried to decide where exactly they were.
They were crossing a square when Martha recognised their surroundings: they were approaching the pub where they'd held Leo's ill-fated 21st birthday party the night that she'd first gone travelling with the Doctor. She frowned in puzzlement as the Doctor followed a group of three guys inside, then led her towards a corner table where Jack and Tish were sitting with her future self.
He guided her to a spot underneath the open staircase that led upstairs to the dining area, close enough that they could hear the conversation she was having with Jack and Tish.
"I wish you two would give me a break!" Martha said angrily, glaring at Tish, then Jack. "I'm fine."
"Martha, sweetheart," said Jack in a soothing voice, "you're not fine. You haven't been fine for months and anyone who knows you can see that."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Martha snapped.
"You're short-tempered and you look exhausted," Tish answered, sounding tired herself. "You haven't been round to see mum and dad or Leo for a month. I swear if we hadn't come and fetched you ourselves tonight, you'd have cried off."
"Well maybe I just wanted some time to myself," Martha retorted hotly.
"Or maybe you're depressed and won't admit it," Jack answered quietly.
She glared at him, then at her sister, before standing up abruptly and storming off before either of them could react. Tish looked at Jack, horrified, then they both hastily got up and rushed after her.
"Come on," the Doctor said quietly in her ear as he put his hand in the small of her back and guided her out of the pub.
They walked back to the TARDIS in silence. Martha was surprised by her behaviour, and by what Tish had accused her of: she couldn't imagine ignoring her parents to that extent, not since the Valiant. She wondered, too, at Jack's presence: that was twice he'd been with her.
Back inside the TARDIS again Martha went straight to the Captain's chair and sat down heavily. The Doctor sat down beside, then picked up her right hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.
"Are you persuaded yet?" he asked softly. "Your family and Jack have recognised you need to talk to someone. Can't you see it?"
"I'll get through it," she answered. "My mum's always said I'm a born fighter."
He huffed out a small laugh. "Takes one to know one," he said, smiling at her when she snapped her head up to glower at him. "I meant that as a compliment Martha. Your mother is a born fighter too, how do you think she survived on the Valiant whilst you were gone?"
She snatched her hand away and got up to pace around the console. "Take me home please Doctor," she said tightly.
"If I do, will you talk to me?" He walked around the console to stand within arm's length of her.
She lifted her head and he saw her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I can't," she said hoarsely. "It's too soon. It hurts too much."
He reached out to touch her shoulder but she stepped away. "Take me home please," she repeated.
He sighed, then stepped up to the console and began setting the coordinates. Martha went back to the Captain's chair and waited silently for the TARDIS to arrive.
The ship landed with her customary bump and Martha immediately got up and marched down the ramp without waiting for the Doctor. She opened the door and stepped outside, then stopped dead as she realised they weren't near her flat. Instead they were on a stretch of grass with a motorway just below them: there was traffic roaring along in the three lanes on the far side of the crash barrier, but everything was at a standstill on the near side.
The Doctor grabbed her hand and tugged her arm gently so that she would follow him. He strode across the grass verge, then stepped out onto the carriageway, leading her towards a large container lorry that was slewed across the middle and outside lanes. Martha gasped when she saw a car was crumpled head-on into the side of the lorry: then she saw the stretcher on the road beside the car and the paramedics surrounding it, working frantically with what she recognised as the desperate urgency of people trying to save someone's life.
Then they were close enough to see the figure lying on the stretcher and Martha had to fight back a scream as she recognised her own battered and bloodied face.
She felt as if someone had knocked her off balance and she reached out blindly for something to hold on to; her questing hand found the Doctor's arm and he took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers tight and anchoring her.
She stared at herself on the stretcher, taking in the unnatural angle of her broken right leg and the blood-soaked dressings around her right breast.
"By rights, you should already be dead, Martha Jones," the Doctor said in a hoarse whisper in her ear. "But as your mum says, you're a born fighter."
She glanced up at his face and saw tears sliding down it, and looked away again feeling sick. Suddenly her other self opened her eyes and focused on Martha as she stood beside the Doctor. Her lips moved and shaped three words: Talk to him, then her eyes closed and a moment later Martha Jones was dead.
At that moment the second Martha crumpled, unconscious. It was only the Doctor’s fast reflexes which saved her from hitting her head.
* * * * * *
Martha woke on board the TARDIS. She sat upright with a cry and strong hands caught her shoulders.
"It's OK Martha, it's OK."
She took several deep shuddering breaths, trying to banish her nightmare.
"Here."
She focused and found the Doctor beside her, offering her a mug of tea. "Oh god!" She struggled out of the bed and into the bathroom, then the Doctor heard her retching. He set the tea aside and went after her: she was kneeling on the floor beside the toilet, crying.
He put a hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, then picked up the facecloth from the sink and used it to wipe her mouth and chin. He hunkered down beside her and turned her face to his, cupping it in both his hands.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. He kissed her forehead. "Come and drink your tea, then we must talk."
She allowed him to help her up from the floor and guide her back to bed. He sat on the bed and held the mug for her whilst she drank the sweet tea he'd made, which the TARDIS had been keeping hot.
"How did it happen?" she asked after he'd put the mug aside.
"You fell asleep at the wheel for a moment," he said. "Just long enough to lose control and drift into the next lane."
"Where did it happen?"
"On the M4, between Reading and Newbury. Jack rang you and asked you to go down to Torchwood to help him out with something." He brushed her hair off her forehead, then cupped her cheek in his hand. "You haven't been sleeping properly since you stopped travelling with me, have you?"
She shook her head.
"And you've been having nightmares?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Jack was of the opinion that you were suffering from depression and probably PTSD as well. You were having very little to do with your family, working nightshifts almost constantly, and every time you lost a patient it seemed to hit you harder."
"How do you know all this?" she asked, puzzled.
"I pieced it together, with some help from Jack and Tish, and conversations with your colleagues at the hospital." He watched her digesting this information. "Donna and I were at Torchwood when we got the news that you'd been killed in a road traffic accident on your way to Cardiff."
"You were at Torchwood?"
He nodded. "Jack rang me and asked me to come and see him. He was desperately worried about you and hoped that you would talk to me since you refused to talk to him."
Martha frowned, trying to piece things together. "But you turned up today to see me."
"I dropped Donna off to see her mum, then I followed your personal timeline backwards from your death until the day you left the TARDIS after the Valiant. I found out that the accident last night was the point at which the tide turned for you: from then onwards it was an accumulation of too many patient deaths, too little sleep, too many long hours in A&E. I realised that if I stepped in at that point, offering you the chance to sleep properly and the chance to talk, then you would be better able to handle everything that followed."
"So if I talk to you now, none of it will happen?" she asked, still frowning.
"Most of it will still happen. I'm only interfering in your timeline, no one else's."
"Why?"
"Why what?" he asked.
"Why are you interfering in my timeline?"
"Because you saved my life time and again whilst we were travelling, and I don't want to lose you." At least not yet, he thought, knowing that he would lose her eventually, just as he always lost his human friends.
She was silent for a while and he waited patiently. "So what happens now?"
"I would suggest that you get some more sleep, and then we can talk properly. We can stay in the Vortex for as long as it takes for you to talk through that missing year. The TARDIS and I can help you to sleep dreamlessly, so you won't be plagued by nightmares as a result of recalling what you went through."
"OK."
He sagged with relief. "Thank you." He kissed her forehead. "Lie down again." She lay back, then shuffled herself down in the bed, and he placed the fingers of his right hand at her temple.
"Will you stay with me?" she asked. "Please."
He raised an eyebrow. "Stay with you?"
"While I sleep."
He gave her a thoughtful look. "OK."
"Thank you."
"Close your eyes." She did. "I'm going to ensure that you sleep dreamlessly," he said. She gave a small nod, then he closed his own eyes and built a mental cocoon for her mind to rest it, somewhere it would be safe whilst she slept. When he opened his eyes again, she was asleep, and he sat back in his chair with a sense of weary relief.
He'd been startled when the Martha who was dying had spoken to the Martha at his side: he still wasn't sure how she'd seen through the perception filter generated by their TARDIS keys, but it wasn't really important. All that mattered was that Martha was now willing to let him help her, and that she wasn't going to die in a car crash four months after she had found him huddled up on her porch.
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha, Jack, Tish Jones
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: The Last of the Time Lords
Summary: The Doctor visits Doctor Martha Jones in order to change her future.
Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Doctor Who" and the Doctor owns me…
Author Notes: This fic is for dirgni19 using two lines from a song in her fanmix: Maybe I'll sleep inside my coat and/Wait on the porch 'til you come back home (Split Screen Sadness - John Mayer)
This initially started out as fluffy-ish, but developed into angst and hurt/comfort completely out of nowhere. Sometimes my brain and the Bunny!Muses worry me!
Beta: padawanpooh the patient!
~~~~~~
Martha was weary as she walked back from work at four am. It had been a long night in A&E: a multiple pile-up in freezing fog had resulted in everyone being rushed off their feet dealing with the casualties, some of whom had later become fatalities. She walked with her head down, tired, aching and more than a little heartsick since one of the patients she hadn't been able to save was a young boy of nine. It was times like this when she wished she'd gone into an office-bound medical job instead.
She climbed the three steps up to the front of the house where she had a ground floor flat, and nearly jumped out of her skin when a hoarse voice spoke from the corner of the porch.
"Doctor Jones."
She stared in disbelief at the sight of the Doctor, wrapped up in his long coat, huddled in the corner of the porch. "Doctor? What are you doing here?" She frowned. "Are you OK?"
He nodded and straightened up, wincing as he stretched. "I was waiting for you," he said.
She frowned again. "How long have you been there? And why didn't you let yourself in?"
"That would have been rude, don't you think?"
She bit her tongue to stop herself making the obvious retort. "How long have you been there?" she repeated.
"Since ten last night."
She gaped, then unlocked the door. "Get inside for goodness sake." She bundled him through the two doors into her flat. "What kind of idiot are you, to spend all night on my porch?" she demanded, worry filling her voice. "Have you any idea how cold it was last night?"
"Minus 3," he answered matter-of-factly, not seeming to realise that Martha's question had been intended rhetorically.
She scowled, then clasped his wrist in her left hand, whilst putting the back of her right hand to his forehead. "You're cold, even for you," she said. "Go and have a shower and warm yourself up, whilst I make some tea and breakfast."
"Martha I - "
She gave him a glare, hands on hips, and looking very like her mother. "Shower," she said firmly. "I don't need a sick Time Lord on my hands."
He shrugged out of his coat.
"Are you on your own?" she asked.
"I've got a Companion, Donna, but she's gone to spend a few days with her mother. Her dad died not too long ago and Donna likes to visit her mother every so often."
"What's she like?" asked Martha, curiosity overcoming her annoyance for a moment.
"An older redhead. Often loud, given to slapping me when I'm being too 'Martian' for her tastes."
"Martian?" she queried.
He nodded. "When we first met, she referred to me as 'Martian boy'. Even though she knows I'm not from Mars, she still refers to me as Martian - I think she does it to annoy me."
Martha hid a smirk. "Does it work?"
"Not often, not any more," he answered, grinning. "I think you'd get on well with her. She's a very down-to-Earth type, good-hearted, and not half as stupid as she likes to pretend."
She nodded. "Shower," she said. "Second door on the left. Towels are in the airing cupboard, and don’t nick all my shower gel!"
He gave her a sketchy salute and went through to the bathroom whilst Martha went into the kitchen and filled the kettle, then started pulling out food and crockery to make some breakfast.
When he wandered into the kitchen ten minutes later, his hair still damp from the shower, jacket and tie off, Martha had breakfast waiting for him.
"Sit down," she said, pointing to a chair, before she put a bowl of porridge in front of him. "Help yourself," she said, indicating the honey, syrup and cream she'd set out on the table.
The Doctor added a large spoonful of honey to his porridge and began to eat as Martha poured them both mugs of tea, then set down her own bowl of porridge and joined him.
They ate in silence apart from the radio in the background and the scrape of their spoons.
"Tell me about last night," the Doctor said gently when they'd finished eating.
She looked up. "How did you know?" she asked abruptly.
He reached out and put his hand over hers, squeezing her fingers gently. "I know you, Martha Jones. I know the look you get when you can't save someone."
She shook her head, then got up, pulling away from him. "Toast?" she asked.
"Martha - "
"I don't want to talk about it," she said sharply. "Toast?"
"Yes please." He watched silently as she put four slices of bread into the toaster and stood waiting for it to brown: her back was stiff and her shoulders set. He got up quietly and went over to her, sliding his arms around her middle. She tensed up for a moment, then relaxed again, leaning back into his embrace.
"I'm sorry I snapped," she said.
"It's OK," he assured her. He continued to hold her until the toast was ready, then they sat down again to eat.
"Do you want some more tea?" she asked after they'd finished eating.
"Yes please, but I’ll make it this time."
She watched as the Doctor expertly made another pot which they carried through to the sitting room. They sat down together on the sofa and Martha started asking him about his recent travels and they talked whilst they drank their tea.
"You need to get some sleep," he observed as she yawned.
She nodded. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Would you like to sleep on the TARDIS? I can take her into the Vortex whilst you sleep, then bring you back a couple of hours from now and you'll still have the rest of your day."
"Why?" she asked, sounding suspicious.
"I thought you could do with the chance to sleep as long as you needed," he answered.
She looked at him suspiciously, certain there was more to this than met the eye. Why had he spent all night on her porch waiting for her if the TARDIS was nearby? On the other hand, the chance to sleep her fill for once, knowing she wouldn't be woken by her neighbours, car alarms or sirens, was too good to pass up.
"Okay" She stood up. "I'll get my pyjamas."
He smiled in obvious delight and followed her out into the hall, putting on his tie and jacket, then his coat whilst he waited for Martha to return.
A few minutes later, he unlocked the door to the TARDIS and Martha stepped inside carrying a small overnight bag. The ship's background hum took on a distinctly joyful note and the Doctor grinned at Martha when she looked at him in surprise.
"She's always loved you," he told her simply, before bounding up the ramp to the console. "Welcome back aboard Doctor Jones."
Martha ran a hand up a coral strut and felt a pleasant tingle in her hand. "Hello," she whispered and couldn't help smiling when the tingle increased.
"Go and get some sleep," the Doctor suggested. "Your room's exactly where it always was, and if you need anything, let the TARDIS know and she'll tell me."
She nodded, then headed towards her room, her small bag slung over one shoulder. Once in her room, Martha decided to take a quick bath before sleeping since she hadn't had a shower yet. It felt odd to be back on the TARDIS, but the ship's joyful hum soon soothed away any uneasiness and she settled into her bed with the wonderful feeling of coming home.
* * * * * *
The Doctor pottered around the TARDIS, doing little jobs here and there, things he'd been putting off whilst he and Donna were travelling, but now had time to do whilst he waited for Martha to sleep herself out.
There was one 'adventure' that he and Donna had recently had that he hadn't mentioned to Martha. It was the reason he was here now, the reason why he'd stayed on her porch all night rather than risk missing her. What he was planning was against all the laws of the Time Lords, but since they were no more, he had absolutely no qualms about interfering with a timeline. Besides, if he didn't, his beautiful, brave Martha Jones, saviour of the Earth, would be dead before her 25th birthday - and that was a completely intolerable prospect.
He finished his jobs and flopped down into the Captain's chair, wondering how much he dared to tell Martha. The difficulty was that she was as sharp as a knife and quite capable of putting any number of things together to come up with the right answer. After he'd dropped Donna off, he'd spent a lot of time and effort in following her personal timeline backwards from her death, knowing that he had to find the moment that tipped the balance. He'd gone right back to the moment when she'd left him after he'd rewound time, and found that this day was where the chain of events had started that had led to her death four months from now.
He was taking a huge risk, he knew that: interfering in people's lives in such a deliberate manner was dangerous and he ran the risk of things unravelling in worse ways, but he was a Time Lord and he was the only person who could do this. Besides, he was damned if he going to refrain from using his powers to save Martha's life, after all the times she'd saved his.
He was so lost in his thoughts that Martha walked into his line of sight before he even knew she was awake.
"Doctor?" Martha had immediately noticed his pensive look and wondered if she was going to find out why he'd turned up out of the blue, six months after she'd left him.
"Hello. Feeling better?"
"Yes thanks." She joined him on the Captain's chair. "So are you going to tell me what you're doing here? You must have had a pretty good reason to spend six hours on my porch in freezing temperatures."
He took a deep breath. "There are some things we need to talk about - and I couldn't put it off any longer."
"That sounds ominous."
He nodded. "Let's go for a walk," he suggested, standing up.
She lifted an eyebrow, surprised. "OK." She slid off the chair and took the hand he offered her: they hadn't tended to hold hands that often as he usually offered her an arm instead.
He led her through the corridors, going deeper into the TARDIS than she'd ever been before, until he stopped in front of a door that looked like any other until she realised that there was an outline of a butterfly above the handle. He opened it, then stepped aside for her to enter first.
"Oh!" Her soft exclamation of surprise and wonder was met with a grin of pure delight from the Doctor as he took her hand again and walked her through a room, if it could be called a room since it looked more like a meadow, teeming with butterflies.
"This is gorgeous," Martha said, stopping to gaze around in fascination.
"I'm glad you like it," the Doctor answered, looking as if he meant it. "Martha, I - " He broke off and looked down at their clasped hands.
"Doctor what's wrong?"
He took a deep breath then blew it out again. "I'm sorry."
"What have you done this time?" she teased.
"It's not what I've done, it's what I haven't done, or rather didn't do."
Her eyebrows rose. "You're not making much sense," she said. "Care to help me out?"
"Let's sit down," he suggested. They settled on the grass and sighed before he began. "I never gave you the chance to talk about what happened to you when you walked the Earth."
"It doesn't matter," Martha assured him, but she pulled her hand away from his and folded her arms across her chest.
The Doctor reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Martha, it does matter. It matters more than you know and more than I had realised."
She gave him a sharp, suspicious look, and he could see her processing the implications of his words. "You know something," she said slowly. "You've seen something, something about me?"
He nodded, watching her intently.
"What have you seen?" she asked.
"I can't tell you."
"Then why are you here?" she asked, glaring now.
"Because you need to talk about what you experienced during the year I rewound." He gave her the most pleading look she'd ever seen on his face.
Martha felt unsettled by his insistence. She didn't want to talk about that year to him or anyone else. She'd never discussed it with her parents or Tish, though she had insisted that they all visit a psychiatrist regularly: she and Jack had arranged that via a contact of his at UNIT. Jack had suggested that she see someone as well but she'd been so adamant in her refusal that he hadn't dared to mention it again.
Martha didn't tell the Doctor that she'd been having nightmares ever since the day she'd walked out of the TARDIS to look after her family, nor did she tell him that the nightmares were steadily getting worse. The few hours’ sleep she'd just had here on the TARDIS was the first nightmare-free rest that she'd experienced in the six months since she'd left. She had switched to working almost non-stop nightshifts at the hospital in the hope that she'd be too tired to dream when she slept, but that hadn't worked, and she didn't dare take sleeping tablets in case the side effects ruined her judgement.
The Doctor watched her, knowing that he couldn't force her to talk, but knowing that if she didn't talk to him, he'd lose her. He wondered how much to tell her: if he told Martha that her life depended on her talking to him now, she might just think he was being dramatic, after all she didn't have his centuries of experience of watching timelines unfold.
He wondered what he could say to persuade her, then he wondered if he should show her instead: just enough to persuade her to talk to him, to start her healing before her depression stopped her from functioning properly.
"Come on." He got up and held out his hand to her.
She looked at him, bewildered. "Where are we going?"
"There's something I need to show you."
She took his hand and allowed him to pull her up, before he led her back to the Control Room. He began moving around the console and she sat down on the Captain's chair, knowing he was setting the coordinates to take them out of the Vortex to a specific time and place.
"Have you got your TARDIS key with you?"
She nodded, then reached into her jeans pocket and pulled it out. After the year that wasn't he had deactivated the perception filter on her key and Jack's, knowing that the power of going unnoticed would be a temptation, but she still tended to carry it in her pocket: wearing it would be too much of a reminder of what she'd given up on the day she'd walked out on him.
"May I?" he asked, holding out his left hand.
She rubbed a finger over the ridges of the key, marvelling yet again at its apparent simplicity, then dropped it into his hand, looping the silver chain onto his palm.
He delved into his inside jacket pocket, pulling out his Sonic Screwdriver, then adjusted the settings before pointing it at the key. After a few minutes the tiny chip that activated the perception filter momentarily glowed red, then blue, before fading back to silver again.
"Put it on," he said as he handed it back, then pulled out his own key and reactivated the perception filter. He slipped the string over his head as Martha dropped her key back around her neck, then turned to the console again.
"We'll be arriving in a moment," he said.
"Where?"
"London: about three weeks in your future."
She stared at him, speechless with surprise. He moved to her side and raised a finger in warning.
"This is strictly forbidden, so it's just as well there are no more Time Lords around to kick my backside for what we're about to do. But the fact there's no one to do that, doesn't mean we can ignore the rules I'm about to give you." He held her shoulders and fixed his gaze on her face, staring into her dark, expressive eyes.
"Whatever happens, you must not, absolutely must not, touch anyone except me. In particular you must not touch yourself."
"Myself?" she whispered.
The Doctor nodded. "You remember what I told Billy Shipton, back in 1969?"
Her eyes widened further. "You mean, about two-thirds of the universe?"
"Yes."
"The same is true in this situation." He held her steady as the TARDIS landed, then dropped his hands from her shoulders, before taking her right hand in his left. "Remember: no touching, no matter what."
"I promise." She wondered if he knew how nervous she was feeling.
He nodded. He could tell she was anxious and if he was honest with himself, he was feeling a little uneasy about this himself. He hadn't forgotten the last time he'd taken a Companion to an event in their own timeline: hopefully this time there wouldn't be any reason for Reapers to get involved.
The Doctor led her down the ramp and opened the TARDIS door, then allowed her to step out first. He locked the door, then took her hand again and led her towards an average looking Mediaeval Anglican church. The door was ajar and he gently edged it open further, then led Martha inside and over to an empty pew at the back.
Martha looked towards the front of the church and realised that they'd arrived at a funeral. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw herself about half way down the right hand side of the aisle: her future self was wearing a black suit and had her hair up in a very severe bun. It was, she decided, quite the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her in all the time she'd known the Doctor.
After a while she focused on the minister who was presiding over the service; she couldn't see the coffin from where they sat, but as she listened she discovered that they were at the funeral of a small girl who'd been killed in a hit-and-run accident. The Doctor was still holding her hand, but he let go and she put both her hands to her mouth to keep herself quiet. He put his arm around her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head, watching the other Martha and the tall figure in a blue greatcoat who sat with his arm around her shoulders.
"That's Jack," Martha whispered, having suddenly recognised him.
"Yes," he answered softly
She didn't speak again, she just watched as the service proceeded. When the coffin bearers stepped forward, the Doctor spoke in her ear again. "We'll wait until they've all gone."
She gave a small nod and watched as Jack helped her other self into her coat, then began to guide her up the aisle, one arm around her shoulders. When the pair got close enough to see their faces, Martha grabbed the Doctor's knee, shoving her other hand into her mouth to stop herself from exclaiming aloud in shock.
Her future self, only three weeks older than she was now, looked as if she'd aged at least five years. Martha knew all too well the signs of her own exhaustion: the marks of sleeplessness around her eyes, the slump of her shoulders, the way she carried her head as if it was too heavy for her neck to support properly.
Jack guided her out of the church and Martha turned to the Doctor. "What happened?" she asked in a quiet voice.
He shook his head, then stood up and held out his hand, leading her outside and back to the TARDIS.
"What happened to her, to me I mean?" Martha asked urgently once they were back in the Control Room.
"Things are starting to take their toll," he said simply, watching her closely.
She walked unsteadily over to the Captain's chair and slumped down on it.
"Martha, I was serious when I said you needed to talk to me."
"I can't. I just can't."
He sighed heavily. "Very well." He turned back to the console and began setting coordinates again, ignoring her for now.
She sat unconsciously twisting her hands together as she wrestled with her thoughts. The thought of talking about what she'd gone through whilst walking the world terrified her: the dreams were quite bad enough, talking about it would just make them worse and she already knew she was only barely getting enough sleep.
The Doctor stood watching his Companion from the other side of the console; he desperately wanted to grab her and shake her until she saw sense, but he knew he'd only alienate her if he did.
The TARDIS ground to an unsteady halt and she looked up finally. "Are we home?" she asked.
"No."
"Then where or when are we?" She was surprised he hadn't taken her straight back home again after she'd refused to talk to him a second time.
"London again. Two months further ahead."
She stared at him. "Why?"
"Because I don't know how else to persuade you to talk to me," he said sadly. He crossed to the seat. "Come on."
She stood up, her legs feeling shaky now, and automatically took the hand he offered her, following him back down the ramp.
They stepped out into a darkened street and Martha immediately looked up for a glimpse of the stars. The Doctor waited a moment, then set off down the street and she hurried to keep up with his longer legs even as she tried to decide where exactly they were.
They were crossing a square when Martha recognised their surroundings: they were approaching the pub where they'd held Leo's ill-fated 21st birthday party the night that she'd first gone travelling with the Doctor. She frowned in puzzlement as the Doctor followed a group of three guys inside, then led her towards a corner table where Jack and Tish were sitting with her future self.
He guided her to a spot underneath the open staircase that led upstairs to the dining area, close enough that they could hear the conversation she was having with Jack and Tish.
"I wish you two would give me a break!" Martha said angrily, glaring at Tish, then Jack. "I'm fine."
"Martha, sweetheart," said Jack in a soothing voice, "you're not fine. You haven't been fine for months and anyone who knows you can see that."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Martha snapped.
"You're short-tempered and you look exhausted," Tish answered, sounding tired herself. "You haven't been round to see mum and dad or Leo for a month. I swear if we hadn't come and fetched you ourselves tonight, you'd have cried off."
"Well maybe I just wanted some time to myself," Martha retorted hotly.
"Or maybe you're depressed and won't admit it," Jack answered quietly.
She glared at him, then at her sister, before standing up abruptly and storming off before either of them could react. Tish looked at Jack, horrified, then they both hastily got up and rushed after her.
"Come on," the Doctor said quietly in her ear as he put his hand in the small of her back and guided her out of the pub.
They walked back to the TARDIS in silence. Martha was surprised by her behaviour, and by what Tish had accused her of: she couldn't imagine ignoring her parents to that extent, not since the Valiant. She wondered, too, at Jack's presence: that was twice he'd been with her.
Back inside the TARDIS again Martha went straight to the Captain's chair and sat down heavily. The Doctor sat down beside, then picked up her right hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.
"Are you persuaded yet?" he asked softly. "Your family and Jack have recognised you need to talk to someone. Can't you see it?"
"I'll get through it," she answered. "My mum's always said I'm a born fighter."
He huffed out a small laugh. "Takes one to know one," he said, smiling at her when she snapped her head up to glower at him. "I meant that as a compliment Martha. Your mother is a born fighter too, how do you think she survived on the Valiant whilst you were gone?"
She snatched her hand away and got up to pace around the console. "Take me home please Doctor," she said tightly.
"If I do, will you talk to me?" He walked around the console to stand within arm's length of her.
She lifted her head and he saw her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I can't," she said hoarsely. "It's too soon. It hurts too much."
He reached out to touch her shoulder but she stepped away. "Take me home please," she repeated.
He sighed, then stepped up to the console and began setting the coordinates. Martha went back to the Captain's chair and waited silently for the TARDIS to arrive.
The ship landed with her customary bump and Martha immediately got up and marched down the ramp without waiting for the Doctor. She opened the door and stepped outside, then stopped dead as she realised they weren't near her flat. Instead they were on a stretch of grass with a motorway just below them: there was traffic roaring along in the three lanes on the far side of the crash barrier, but everything was at a standstill on the near side.
The Doctor grabbed her hand and tugged her arm gently so that she would follow him. He strode across the grass verge, then stepped out onto the carriageway, leading her towards a large container lorry that was slewed across the middle and outside lanes. Martha gasped when she saw a car was crumpled head-on into the side of the lorry: then she saw the stretcher on the road beside the car and the paramedics surrounding it, working frantically with what she recognised as the desperate urgency of people trying to save someone's life.
Then they were close enough to see the figure lying on the stretcher and Martha had to fight back a scream as she recognised her own battered and bloodied face.
She felt as if someone had knocked her off balance and she reached out blindly for something to hold on to; her questing hand found the Doctor's arm and he took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers tight and anchoring her.
She stared at herself on the stretcher, taking in the unnatural angle of her broken right leg and the blood-soaked dressings around her right breast.
"By rights, you should already be dead, Martha Jones," the Doctor said in a hoarse whisper in her ear. "But as your mum says, you're a born fighter."
She glanced up at his face and saw tears sliding down it, and looked away again feeling sick. Suddenly her other self opened her eyes and focused on Martha as she stood beside the Doctor. Her lips moved and shaped three words: Talk to him, then her eyes closed and a moment later Martha Jones was dead.
At that moment the second Martha crumpled, unconscious. It was only the Doctor’s fast reflexes which saved her from hitting her head.
* * * * * *
Martha woke on board the TARDIS. She sat upright with a cry and strong hands caught her shoulders.
"It's OK Martha, it's OK."
She took several deep shuddering breaths, trying to banish her nightmare.
"Here."
She focused and found the Doctor beside her, offering her a mug of tea. "Oh god!" She struggled out of the bed and into the bathroom, then the Doctor heard her retching. He set the tea aside and went after her: she was kneeling on the floor beside the toilet, crying.
He put a hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, then picked up the facecloth from the sink and used it to wipe her mouth and chin. He hunkered down beside her and turned her face to his, cupping it in both his hands.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. He kissed her forehead. "Come and drink your tea, then we must talk."
She allowed him to help her up from the floor and guide her back to bed. He sat on the bed and held the mug for her whilst she drank the sweet tea he'd made, which the TARDIS had been keeping hot.
"How did it happen?" she asked after he'd put the mug aside.
"You fell asleep at the wheel for a moment," he said. "Just long enough to lose control and drift into the next lane."
"Where did it happen?"
"On the M4, between Reading and Newbury. Jack rang you and asked you to go down to Torchwood to help him out with something." He brushed her hair off her forehead, then cupped her cheek in his hand. "You haven't been sleeping properly since you stopped travelling with me, have you?"
She shook her head.
"And you've been having nightmares?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Jack was of the opinion that you were suffering from depression and probably PTSD as well. You were having very little to do with your family, working nightshifts almost constantly, and every time you lost a patient it seemed to hit you harder."
"How do you know all this?" she asked, puzzled.
"I pieced it together, with some help from Jack and Tish, and conversations with your colleagues at the hospital." He watched her digesting this information. "Donna and I were at Torchwood when we got the news that you'd been killed in a road traffic accident on your way to Cardiff."
"You were at Torchwood?"
He nodded. "Jack rang me and asked me to come and see him. He was desperately worried about you and hoped that you would talk to me since you refused to talk to him."
Martha frowned, trying to piece things together. "But you turned up today to see me."
"I dropped Donna off to see her mum, then I followed your personal timeline backwards from your death until the day you left the TARDIS after the Valiant. I found out that the accident last night was the point at which the tide turned for you: from then onwards it was an accumulation of too many patient deaths, too little sleep, too many long hours in A&E. I realised that if I stepped in at that point, offering you the chance to sleep properly and the chance to talk, then you would be better able to handle everything that followed."
"So if I talk to you now, none of it will happen?" she asked, still frowning.
"Most of it will still happen. I'm only interfering in your timeline, no one else's."
"Why?"
"Why what?" he asked.
"Why are you interfering in my timeline?"
"Because you saved my life time and again whilst we were travelling, and I don't want to lose you." At least not yet, he thought, knowing that he would lose her eventually, just as he always lost his human friends.
She was silent for a while and he waited patiently. "So what happens now?"
"I would suggest that you get some more sleep, and then we can talk properly. We can stay in the Vortex for as long as it takes for you to talk through that missing year. The TARDIS and I can help you to sleep dreamlessly, so you won't be plagued by nightmares as a result of recalling what you went through."
"OK."
He sagged with relief. "Thank you." He kissed her forehead. "Lie down again." She lay back, then shuffled herself down in the bed, and he placed the fingers of his right hand at her temple.
"Will you stay with me?" she asked. "Please."
He raised an eyebrow. "Stay with you?"
"While I sleep."
He gave her a thoughtful look. "OK."
"Thank you."
"Close your eyes." She did. "I'm going to ensure that you sleep dreamlessly," he said. She gave a small nod, then he closed his own eyes and built a mental cocoon for her mind to rest it, somewhere it would be safe whilst she slept. When he opened his eyes again, she was asleep, and he sat back in his chair with a sense of weary relief.
He'd been startled when the Martha who was dying had spoken to the Martha at his side: he still wasn't sure how she'd seen through the perception filter generated by their TARDIS keys, but it wasn't really important. All that mattered was that Martha was now willing to let him help her, and that she wasn't going to die in a car crash four months after she had found him huddled up on her porch.