(no subject)
Title: A Coda to a Journey
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Spoilers: up to "Journey's End".
Martha Jones calls again (this time from Torchwood , not UNIT) a fortnight after the Doctor took Donna Noble home (broken).
The Doctor calls the TARDIS down beside a park in Cardiff, a quick walk away, no need to disturb the Rift, and Martha meets him there. He sees her cross the park, fury darkening the air around her (an oncoming storm).
‘Is there something you want to tell me?’ she asks him, fine rain falling around them, but it feels like shards of ice.
He shakes his head, not un-sincerely, and she tells him about Donna’s vacant look when Martha greeted her across a desk in some dingy office (how much more she could have been, his Donna), and the Doctor inwardly thanks Martha for being sensible enough not to mention anything.
‘My - consciousness,’ he explains, halting on words and emotion, ‘it was - burning her up.’
Guilt surfaces much too quickly as he notices Martha’s eyes go distant with memories of 42 minutes falling towards a sun.
‘It was amnesia or death.’
‘She chose to go home, then.’ He can tell Martha doesn’t find the confirmation she needs in his downcast gaze.
‘I had to.’
Her sudden, vice-like grip on his suit jacket knocks him a little off balance, and they dance a tiny misstep before Martha pushes him roughly away and manages to look down on him even though he’s head and shoulders taller.
‘Do you really think you’re some kind of god?’ she snarls at him, and he doesn’t say I am a Time Lord, because that title becomes less and less magnificent the longer he’s the only one defining it.
Martha’s fingertips on his cheek take him aback (he offered his forgiveness only to those he was sure he had beaten).
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ she allows, begrudgingly, ‘with your regenerations.’ Desperation tenses her expression. ‘We get one shot, that’s it. We only choose to give up lives if, in living, we lose something infinitely more precious. Donna didn’t want to lose what she had become.’ Martha’s eyes shine darkly. ‘That’s how much you change people.’
The Doctor closes his eyes (and all the world drops dead).
‘Hardly for the best. Donna can’t remember anything, and you remember too much.’
‘So do you.’ Her voice is very close. ‘We’ve both seen so much death.’
‘Difference is,’ the Doctor replies, his voice thick and deep as hopelessness, ‘you didn’t cause the deaths you saw. Donna was right, all that time ago. I do need to be stopped.’
His jaw tightens as Martha scoffs at him - he feels the little puff of breath on his cheek.
‘You’re not Davros, or the Master. You don’t need to be stopped.’
The Doctor looks down at Martha, twilit and fierce.
‘You need to be saved.’
(and all is born again).
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Spoilers: up to "Journey's End".
Martha Jones calls again (this time from Torchwood , not UNIT) a fortnight after the Doctor took Donna Noble home (broken).
The Doctor calls the TARDIS down beside a park in Cardiff, a quick walk away, no need to disturb the Rift, and Martha meets him there. He sees her cross the park, fury darkening the air around her (an oncoming storm).
‘Is there something you want to tell me?’ she asks him, fine rain falling around them, but it feels like shards of ice.
He shakes his head, not un-sincerely, and she tells him about Donna’s vacant look when Martha greeted her across a desk in some dingy office (how much more she could have been, his Donna), and the Doctor inwardly thanks Martha for being sensible enough not to mention anything.
‘My - consciousness,’ he explains, halting on words and emotion, ‘it was - burning her up.’
Guilt surfaces much too quickly as he notices Martha’s eyes go distant with memories of 42 minutes falling towards a sun.
‘It was amnesia or death.’
‘She chose to go home, then.’ He can tell Martha doesn’t find the confirmation she needs in his downcast gaze.
‘I had to.’
Her sudden, vice-like grip on his suit jacket knocks him a little off balance, and they dance a tiny misstep before Martha pushes him roughly away and manages to look down on him even though he’s head and shoulders taller.
‘Do you really think you’re some kind of god?’ she snarls at him, and he doesn’t say I am a Time Lord, because that title becomes less and less magnificent the longer he’s the only one defining it.
Martha’s fingertips on his cheek take him aback (he offered his forgiveness only to those he was sure he had beaten).
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ she allows, begrudgingly, ‘with your regenerations.’ Desperation tenses her expression. ‘We get one shot, that’s it. We only choose to give up lives if, in living, we lose something infinitely more precious. Donna didn’t want to lose what she had become.’ Martha’s eyes shine darkly. ‘That’s how much you change people.’
The Doctor closes his eyes (and all the world drops dead).
‘Hardly for the best. Donna can’t remember anything, and you remember too much.’
‘So do you.’ Her voice is very close. ‘We’ve both seen so much death.’
‘Difference is,’ the Doctor replies, his voice thick and deep as hopelessness, ‘you didn’t cause the deaths you saw. Donna was right, all that time ago. I do need to be stopped.’
His jaw tightens as Martha scoffs at him - he feels the little puff of breath on his cheek.
‘You’re not Davros, or the Master. You don’t need to be stopped.’
The Doctor looks down at Martha, twilit and fierce.
‘You need to be saved.’
(and all is born again).