Fic: Someone To Share It With
Another fic. Can't be bothered with headers etc at the moment, so, it is a sort of Ten/Martha, Ten/Jack, Jack/Martha ficlet.
WARNING: Some spoilers for series 3 (basic ones) and for The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances. ALSO there is some phrasing which could be construed as anti-Rose. It isn't, for me, beacuse I loved Rose, just as much as I do Martha, but this is my view of the situation through Martha's eyes, and Jack's, and they may not be wholly positive. I have no intention of Rose-bashing, seriously.
RATING: Kissing.
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Someone To Share It With
She turned her back to wash her mug at the sink, as the Doctor wandered out of the room. She’d finished her tea, and deliberately twisted in the small kitchenette off the console room, so that Jack couldn’t see her face, as tears tightened behind her eyelids at the offhand comment.
Jack had been there just six hours, but she knew he could understand her better than many of her family and friends could already. She only hoped he didn’t know that she never usually washed up, but it was too much to hope for, really.
“It isn’t what you think, you know.”
She shut her eyes briefly, before deliberately lightening her voice, and asking, “What?”
“Don’t act like it doesn’t get to you, I know it must.” His voice cracked slightly.
“She’s not some hugely superior being. And he doesn’t even mean it to sound like that.”
She sighed, resigned to having this discussion, which couldn’t lead anywhere good.
“I mean it, Martha. She wasn’t perfect. I knew her - I met them together, so I never knew him without her, but I’m telling you, she wasn’t perfect.”
Her shoulders slumped, before she straightened them upwards, steeling herself to turn around.
“Don’t ignore me, sweetheart. Just listen. When I met them, I saved her life. I also nearly killed million of people, but he was more worried about me leading her astray. So I didn’t. She told me stories, things he’d said about her to others - “I only take the best” and other such crap. She thought it showed he cared, but it didn’t help him get to like me. He put her on a pedestal, Martha, and she returned the favour…are you listening to me?”
She nodded silently, still not turning around.
“Look, I liked her. I might even have grown to love her, and she had a lot of charms. But don’t, whatever you do, go thinking she was perfect. You’re equal to her, you’re better than her in some ways ,and worse in others, but you deserve to know.”
He finished in a quieter tone, “Everything is compared to her now, but when he had her, it was good, but it wasn’t that good. He almost betrayed her, more than once, and her him. The past, and the way they parted has just…merged, in his mind like it would have done in hers - as a tragedy. And he did…did love her, I’m sure…but you have to understand. He loves all of the people that travel with him…he would risk just as much for you. He’d probably let you do more too…she was impulsive and enthusiastic, but you have more reason, more logic…more real skill…Am I making sense?”
She nodded once more, and dropped her head slightly. His voice became louder this time, “No, turn around. Face me, and believe me, Martha Jones.”
She twisted awkwardly in the small space, raising her head to look at him, her physical twisting dulling the swirling sensation inside her. His tone became more powerful,
“You are as good as her. He may not say it, but he knows it. He just doesn’t want to betray the rose-tinted memories he has of her. He knows it, and I know it.” His voice dropped once more, overlain with a sense of passion, “She wasn’t perfect, Martha, no-one is, but you are fantastic Miss Jones. He knows that. You should too.”
It was as if she suddenly lost all the breath she had, and he looked like he was suffering the same. She moved, quickly, towards him, wrapping her arms around him, and he pulled her head down to rest on his where he was sitting.
“It is you too, then” she murmured, under her breath.
He laughed, silently, and replied, “Me too, yeah.”
He tugged a chair over for her, and she sat, letting him wrap his arms around her, as she tightened her grip. The silence settled, and their breathing steadied. He raised his head from his chest, and she saw the briefest glint of tears in his eyes, glad that she had cried hers over the sink, and she watched as he raised his head to look her in the eyes.
She’d wanted him, when she’d met him, but she would have challenged anyone not to. But as he edged his lips closer towards hers, in a cramped kitchen aboard a time-travelling machine, it seemed so natural to reach forwards too. As they touched, it suddenly didn’t seem enough, and she leant further forwards, bringing her hand to his face as she felt his on the back of her neck, strong but sensual.
They kissed, their tongues gliding against each other, exploring each other with mouths, him tugging her to straddle him, and letting her hair fall from her ponytail, but they kept to the same, steady pace, comforting each other with smooth touches and whispered words.
They didn’t carry on, not there and not then. They broke apart softly, but without embarrassment, and pulled away. He looked her in the eye, without flinching, before they left to enter the control room, saying,
“He doesn’t know it hurts. He wouldn’t even know how to handle it. But I understand, OK? I get it.”
Her final worries had slipped away at some point in the kitchen, and she smiled at him, touched his face, and they went to find the Doctor. Time to find another planet to save, or another species to rescue. Someone understood now.
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Reviews are lovely, evem if just to let me know my Martha voice is completely off.