Fic: "Goodbye, My Lover" (Martha/OMC, Ten/Rose, PG)
Title: Goodbye, My Lover
Author: aibhinn
Betas: dark_aegis, larielromeniel, joely_jo, and sensiblecat.
Pairing: Martha/OMC, Ten/Rose, previous Jack/Gwen
Warning: Character death
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Set in the Adventure-verse, though you don't have to have read The One Adventure He'll Never Have to understand this one. No canon spoilers.
Summary: What happens when your spouse has a normal human lifespan, but you don't? Hanky-fest.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own any of these characters, because if I did, canon would look something very like one of my stories.
Author's note: I really don't know why I sat down and wrote this, but it was one of those that sort of wrote itself while I was struggling with Reunited ch 11. Many thanks to my betas who, as always, help me more than I could ever say. Special thanks to sensiblecat for the U2 lyrics used as an epigraph.
"Who's to know where the road will take you,
Who's to know what it is will break you,
I don't know which way the wind will blow.
Who's to know when the time will come around,
I don't want to see you cry,
I know that this is not goodbye."
"Kite" by U2 (the song Bono wrote as his dad was dying)
Alex hated hospitals. He hated the odour of antiseptic, the cold, sterile corridors, and the nurses who were sympathetic, gentle, and maddeningly correct…especially when he didn't want them to be.
That hatred wasn't enough to keep him away, though. Nothing could have kept him away.
He pushed open the door to Martha's room as quietly as he could in case she was sleeping, and just stood there for a moment, taking in the image of his wife in her hospital bed-the bed she'd been in for a month now, and the one the doctors said she'd never leave. For a moment there was no sound but the steady beeping of monitors, then her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him. "Hello," she said weakly.
"Hi." He slipped quickly to her side and bent to kiss her, stroking his hand over her snow-white hair. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"Wasn't asleep. I was just…remembering." She sighed as he pulled a chair up and sat, taking her frail hand in his, carefully avoiding the IV port. "I've seen so much in my life, Alex. It's been so amazing. Backwards and forwards in time, and all over the galaxy. How many people see in a lifetime what I used to see in a day?"
His throat tightened, and he had to swallow before he could speak. "Not many."
She glanced sideways at him and chuckled. "Not many old birds like me can say they've got a gorgeous man like you for a husband, either. Half these nurses keep saying to me, 'You mean grandson, don't you, dear?' I keep telling them, 'No blood relation of mine's got skin that pale. Don't they make nurses take genetics any more?'"
Alex chuckled too. "They probably wouldn't believe your children are your children, either. They certainly wouldn't believe they're mine."
"True," she said, eyes sparkling. "Sixty and fifty-seven years old, respectively, and they still look about thirty. I ought to be jealous."
"No, you shouldn't." Alex stroked the backs of his fingers over her wrinkled cheek. "You're still the prettiest girl at the ball."
"Who gives an old woman the same lines she got at her wedding?" But her gaze was soft, filled with the love that had been his life for decades.
"The one who told her so in the first place." He raised her hand to his lips, kissing it, mostly because he wanted to, but partly to distract her from the tears that were budding in his eyes. Martha had always been so alive, so energetic, so vital. Seeing her like this was killing him, nearly as much as her age was killing her.
For that's all this was-old age. She was nearly a hundred, quite a respectable age even for this time, let alone for the one she'd been born into. But still, only about a third of his own age; less than a tenth of his father's; a bit more than his mother's. And his mum still looked twenty, and probably always would.
Martha rested her other hand on his head, stroking his hair gently. "We always knew it was going to happen this way, love," she said quietly. "We each have our allotted time. I'm at the end of mine, that's all."
He marvelled at the way she was able to read his mind, even as he shook his head in a denial he knew was pure wishful thinking. "It's not fair," he said. "I haven't had enough time with you."
"Nor I with you," she said gently. "But this is the way things are. We've had seventy-four years together. A beautiful family, a wonderful life. But nothing can last forever, Alex. We've got to let go. Both of us."
"Not yet," he said around the lump in his throat. "Not yet. You're still here, and I'm not missing another minute of time with you." Both his hands wrapped around hers, and he raised her fingers to his lips again. "We could still have months. Years, if we're lucky. I don't have to say goodbye yet."
There were tears in Martha's eyes too as she squeezed his hand gently. "We don't have years," she said with infinite gentleness. "Or months. I'm near my end, Alex. I know it, and if you look at the time-lines, you'll know it too."
"I don't want to know it," he said petulantly, aware that he sounded like a child and not caring. "I just want to be with you as long as I can, without knowing the exact time and date I'll l-lose…."
The tears spilled over and he bent his head over their joined hands, fighting them. Whether he consciously looked or not, he knew her remaining time was very, very short. Her free hand continued to caress his hair.
"Oh, Alex," she said, and the love in her voice nearly broke him utterly. "You won't lose me. As long as you, or any of the family, remember me, I'll never be gone. And-" She hesitated. "I don't know if there's anything after," she said in a low tone. "But if there is, I'll see you there one day." She slid her hand down to his chin, and he raised his head at her urging. "And you will not," she went on, "spend the next thousand years alone, do you hear me? Grieve for me, yes, but then you have to move on. You have to," she persisted as he drew away in protest. "Do it for me, if nothing else. I can't bear the thought of you alone for so long." Her tears spilled over as well, two silvery tracks down her wrinkled, beloved face. "I watched the Doctor learning to live without Rose," she said. "And I know you will hurt for a long time, just as he did. But you'll heal. At some point in the future-months, years, decades, whenever-you'll find a woman who catches your eye, and I want you to go to her, all right? Don't hold back because you think you're betraying my memory. You're not. You never could."
Alex looked at her for a long, long moment, then released her hands and stood, lowering the side railing of the bed. "Budge over," he said, toeing off his shoes.
"What?" Martha asked, startled.
"You heard me. Budge over. You always were a bed hog," he added, teasing, as he wiped his cheeks with a tissue and handed one to her as well. She dried her face and shifted as far over as she could, and he sat down on the edge of the bed, slipping his socked feet under the lightweight blanket and tugging her to lie against him.
She rested her head on his chest, his arm going comfortably around her as they settled into the position they'd slept in for so many years. Alex stroked her back and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. He couldn't ignore what the time-lines were telling him any longer, no matter how much it hurt. "You just rest," he said softly, around the lump in his throat. "I'll be here."
"You always have been," she murmured.
***
The Doctor and Rose opened the door to Martha's hospital room to find her small, frail frame draped over Alex's, relaxed and limp, a small smile just curling her lips. Alex's cheek rested against her hair, his hand moving in a rhythmic caress up and down her back, his eyes shut. They closed the door as quietly as they could to avoid waking her, and tiptoed in. "Son?" the Doctor said gently.
"You don't need to be quiet," Alex said in a steady voice, never opening his eyes. "She's gone."
Shock and sorrow rushed through the Doctor as Rose made a small, stifled sound of grief and reached blindly for his hand. He clasped it, then tugged her gently into an embrace as their tears began to fall for the vivacious, brilliant woman they'd called both daughter-in-law and friend. Alex just held his wife's body, dry-eyed and calm, never stopping his hand's steady motion.
"She left instructions for her funeral," Alex went on, eyes still closed. "They're in an envelope in the desk in the office at home. Would you see to everything? I don't…think I can." His voice wavered for a moment, then steadied again. "And someone needs to tell everybody. They'll need to know."
"Of course," the Doctor said, his voice considerably less steady than his son's. "Do you…d'you want one of us to stay with you?"
"No," Alex said quietly. "But could you ask Thallie to come?"
"Of course," the Doctor said again. His hearts were breaking for his son. They'd already lost so many people they loved over the years: Rose's parents, Mickey, Jake, Thalia's husband Stephen, and Gwen. This was hardly Alex's first major loss. But nothing could ever make up for the loss of one's love. There but for the grace of Bad Wolf go I, the Doctor thought sadly, and tightened his arms around Rose briefly before breaking the embrace with reluctance. Rose sniffled, taking hold of his hand and turning her deep, tear-filled eyes on their son, though she didn't say anything. "You stay here as long as you want, Alex," he said. "We'll take care of everything."
Hand in hand with Rose, he left Alex alone with his wife.
***
The sky was low and overcast the day of Martha's funeral. The family (which had always included Jack) filled the church, children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Alex was bracketed by Thalia and his youngest sister, Polyhymnia. He held their hands tightly as the coffin was lowered into the earth. Rose watched, concerned at his dry eyes-she hadn't seen him cry more than a couple of times since Martha's death a week before-and hoped he wasn't going to go into the same sort of emotionless shut-down his father used to.
She spoke to Jack about it later over cups of tea in her kitchen, after the reception was over and everyone else had gone back to their respective homes-the Doctor had needed to use the TARDIS to take their son Jacob and his wife Janet back to their home on thirty-second-century Mars. "You've been in Alex's shoes," she told him. "Could you talk to him or something? Try to get him to talk to you, maybe?"
"I think Thalia and Polly have done a good job on their own, actually," he said. "Thalia's been through it too, you know, and she's his twin. And he and Polly have almost as close a relationship as he and Thalia do. I'll make a point of swinging round-I think all of us will-but I wouldn't be too worried, Rose."
"I'm a mother," she told him dryly. "It's in the job description."
"Yeah, I think it's part of 'uncle' as well." He sighed. "I know Gwen always wanted kids, but I can't help but be somewhat selfishly glad we never had any. I can't imagine having to bury one of my children, even if they had grown old and died naturally." He shivered.
"You don't think the immortality would pass down genetically?" Rose asked.
He shrugged, leaning back in the chair. "Just as bad if it did, really," he said. "Imagine condemning your child to the kind of immortality you and I have. It doesn't bear thinking about."
"But I have done, in essence," Rose said with a sigh. "My children can all regenerate. And since they're the only ones of Gallifreyan blood left, except the Doctor, every one of them will eventually go through what you and Thallie and Alex already have." She dropped her gaze to her teacup and took a sip, hardly tasting it. This was what immortality was, she was coming to realise: a long succession of funerals.
"You and the Doctor are the luckiest people I know," Jack said. "Both of you essentially immortal. Together for nearly three hundred years, and no end in sight." He gave a small, hollow laugh. "You have no idea how much I envy you."
She glanced up at the pain in his voice, and reached out instinctively to cup his cheek. "I know, Jack," she said. "I know."
He smiled weakly at her, then held out a hand, scooting away from the table. She took it and let him draw her into his lap, and the two friends held each other, drawing strength from each other's presence as they had done so many times before.
***
Forty years later
Alex hummed to himself as he poked around in the engine of the new faster-than-light ship Torchwood had created, using a combination of alien tech and modern human know-how. He was more than a little impressed; he knew far more about space- and time-travel than anyone except his parents, his siblings, and Uncle Jack, and this ship was more than he would ever have expected even Torchwood to come up with on their own. It wasn't their first go at it, of course-more like their sixtieth-but they'd made incredible leaps since the start of the project. It was really amazing.
"Excuse me!" an irritated female voice said, loud enough to echo through the docking bay. "Just what do you think you-oh," she added, when Alex pulled his head out of the engine compartment and turned round to look at her. "Sorry, Dr Tyler. I didn't realise it was you."
"Alex, please," he corrected with a smile. He'd seen her around the building, though he'd never actually met her. Not surprising that she knew his name, though; he was, after all, one of the highest-ranking men at Torchwood. "It's all right; I didn't tell anyone I would be in today." He stepped back, wiping his hands on an already-filthy cloth. "She's a thing of beauty. Never seen anything like her."
"Thanks," the woman said with a note of pride. "We did a good job on her, if I do say so myself."
She reached up to run an affectionate hand over the side of the ship, and Alex was reminded of his father in the TARDIS. He grinned. "So you were on the design team?" he asked.
"And production," she agreed, nodding. "I designed and wired the guidance system. Can't guarantee whether the team who put the engine together will get her to fly, but if they do, they'll know where they're going!"
They both laughed, and Alex took the chance to look more carefully at her. She was a small, delicately-built woman, about five foot three and slender. Her hair was straight, thick, and light brown, secured at the nape of her neck to keep it out of her way, and her eyes were a wide, bright hazel, huge in her heart-shaped face. She laughed unselfconsciously, and smiled easily. His eyes flickered down to her hand: no ring. Not that that meant anything, but still…
He made a decision. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Maria Caldwell."
"Well, Maria, I haven't managed to sneak away for dinner yet. Want to join me? You can tell me about the design and production of this fabulous ship, and we can both pretend we're actually working."
She laughed again, and there was a definite spark of interest in her eye. "I'd be happy to, Dr-Alex. Just let me get my handbag from my desk. Meet you at the lifts in ten minutes?"
"Sounds good," he said, smiling at her. She smiled back and turned to go. He watched her as she walked across the docking bay, and then flushed when she turned back to glance at him as she reached the door, and caught him looking. Her smile broadened, and she disappeared through the door without another word.
Chuckling to himself, Alex tucked his hands into his pockets and made for the other door, sauntering along. "I think you'd like her, Martha," he said to the air. "Got a sense of humour, I can tell. And definitely intelligent. Dinner's not quite as interesting a first date as rescuing Mum from a parallel universe, but really, what is?"
With another chuckle, he left the docking bay and headed for the nearest men's room. It had been a long time since he'd had a date; he ought to spruce up a bit.
fin
Author: aibhinn
Betas: dark_aegis, larielromeniel, joely_jo, and sensiblecat.
Pairing: Martha/OMC, Ten/Rose, previous Jack/Gwen
Warning: Character death
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Set in the Adventure-verse, though you don't have to have read The One Adventure He'll Never Have to understand this one. No canon spoilers.
Summary: What happens when your spouse has a normal human lifespan, but you don't? Hanky-fest.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own any of these characters, because if I did, canon would look something very like one of my stories.
Author's note: I really don't know why I sat down and wrote this, but it was one of those that sort of wrote itself while I was struggling with Reunited ch 11. Many thanks to my betas who, as always, help me more than I could ever say. Special thanks to sensiblecat for the U2 lyrics used as an epigraph.
"Who's to know where the road will take you,
Who's to know what it is will break you,
I don't know which way the wind will blow.
Who's to know when the time will come around,
I don't want to see you cry,
I know that this is not goodbye."
"Kite" by U2 (the song Bono wrote as his dad was dying)
Alex hated hospitals. He hated the odour of antiseptic, the cold, sterile corridors, and the nurses who were sympathetic, gentle, and maddeningly correct…especially when he didn't want them to be.
That hatred wasn't enough to keep him away, though. Nothing could have kept him away.
He pushed open the door to Martha's room as quietly as he could in case she was sleeping, and just stood there for a moment, taking in the image of his wife in her hospital bed-the bed she'd been in for a month now, and the one the doctors said she'd never leave. For a moment there was no sound but the steady beeping of monitors, then her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him. "Hello," she said weakly.
"Hi." He slipped quickly to her side and bent to kiss her, stroking his hand over her snow-white hair. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"Wasn't asleep. I was just…remembering." She sighed as he pulled a chair up and sat, taking her frail hand in his, carefully avoiding the IV port. "I've seen so much in my life, Alex. It's been so amazing. Backwards and forwards in time, and all over the galaxy. How many people see in a lifetime what I used to see in a day?"
His throat tightened, and he had to swallow before he could speak. "Not many."
She glanced sideways at him and chuckled. "Not many old birds like me can say they've got a gorgeous man like you for a husband, either. Half these nurses keep saying to me, 'You mean grandson, don't you, dear?' I keep telling them, 'No blood relation of mine's got skin that pale. Don't they make nurses take genetics any more?'"
Alex chuckled too. "They probably wouldn't believe your children are your children, either. They certainly wouldn't believe they're mine."
"True," she said, eyes sparkling. "Sixty and fifty-seven years old, respectively, and they still look about thirty. I ought to be jealous."
"No, you shouldn't." Alex stroked the backs of his fingers over her wrinkled cheek. "You're still the prettiest girl at the ball."
"Who gives an old woman the same lines she got at her wedding?" But her gaze was soft, filled with the love that had been his life for decades.
"The one who told her so in the first place." He raised her hand to his lips, kissing it, mostly because he wanted to, but partly to distract her from the tears that were budding in his eyes. Martha had always been so alive, so energetic, so vital. Seeing her like this was killing him, nearly as much as her age was killing her.
For that's all this was-old age. She was nearly a hundred, quite a respectable age even for this time, let alone for the one she'd been born into. But still, only about a third of his own age; less than a tenth of his father's; a bit more than his mother's. And his mum still looked twenty, and probably always would.
Martha rested her other hand on his head, stroking his hair gently. "We always knew it was going to happen this way, love," she said quietly. "We each have our allotted time. I'm at the end of mine, that's all."
He marvelled at the way she was able to read his mind, even as he shook his head in a denial he knew was pure wishful thinking. "It's not fair," he said. "I haven't had enough time with you."
"Nor I with you," she said gently. "But this is the way things are. We've had seventy-four years together. A beautiful family, a wonderful life. But nothing can last forever, Alex. We've got to let go. Both of us."
"Not yet," he said around the lump in his throat. "Not yet. You're still here, and I'm not missing another minute of time with you." Both his hands wrapped around hers, and he raised her fingers to his lips again. "We could still have months. Years, if we're lucky. I don't have to say goodbye yet."
There were tears in Martha's eyes too as she squeezed his hand gently. "We don't have years," she said with infinite gentleness. "Or months. I'm near my end, Alex. I know it, and if you look at the time-lines, you'll know it too."
"I don't want to know it," he said petulantly, aware that he sounded like a child and not caring. "I just want to be with you as long as I can, without knowing the exact time and date I'll l-lose…."
The tears spilled over and he bent his head over their joined hands, fighting them. Whether he consciously looked or not, he knew her remaining time was very, very short. Her free hand continued to caress his hair.
"Oh, Alex," she said, and the love in her voice nearly broke him utterly. "You won't lose me. As long as you, or any of the family, remember me, I'll never be gone. And-" She hesitated. "I don't know if there's anything after," she said in a low tone. "But if there is, I'll see you there one day." She slid her hand down to his chin, and he raised his head at her urging. "And you will not," she went on, "spend the next thousand years alone, do you hear me? Grieve for me, yes, but then you have to move on. You have to," she persisted as he drew away in protest. "Do it for me, if nothing else. I can't bear the thought of you alone for so long." Her tears spilled over as well, two silvery tracks down her wrinkled, beloved face. "I watched the Doctor learning to live without Rose," she said. "And I know you will hurt for a long time, just as he did. But you'll heal. At some point in the future-months, years, decades, whenever-you'll find a woman who catches your eye, and I want you to go to her, all right? Don't hold back because you think you're betraying my memory. You're not. You never could."
Alex looked at her for a long, long moment, then released her hands and stood, lowering the side railing of the bed. "Budge over," he said, toeing off his shoes.
"What?" Martha asked, startled.
"You heard me. Budge over. You always were a bed hog," he added, teasing, as he wiped his cheeks with a tissue and handed one to her as well. She dried her face and shifted as far over as she could, and he sat down on the edge of the bed, slipping his socked feet under the lightweight blanket and tugging her to lie against him.
She rested her head on his chest, his arm going comfortably around her as they settled into the position they'd slept in for so many years. Alex stroked her back and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. He couldn't ignore what the time-lines were telling him any longer, no matter how much it hurt. "You just rest," he said softly, around the lump in his throat. "I'll be here."
"You always have been," she murmured.
***
The Doctor and Rose opened the door to Martha's hospital room to find her small, frail frame draped over Alex's, relaxed and limp, a small smile just curling her lips. Alex's cheek rested against her hair, his hand moving in a rhythmic caress up and down her back, his eyes shut. They closed the door as quietly as they could to avoid waking her, and tiptoed in. "Son?" the Doctor said gently.
"You don't need to be quiet," Alex said in a steady voice, never opening his eyes. "She's gone."
Shock and sorrow rushed through the Doctor as Rose made a small, stifled sound of grief and reached blindly for his hand. He clasped it, then tugged her gently into an embrace as their tears began to fall for the vivacious, brilliant woman they'd called both daughter-in-law and friend. Alex just held his wife's body, dry-eyed and calm, never stopping his hand's steady motion.
"She left instructions for her funeral," Alex went on, eyes still closed. "They're in an envelope in the desk in the office at home. Would you see to everything? I don't…think I can." His voice wavered for a moment, then steadied again. "And someone needs to tell everybody. They'll need to know."
"Of course," the Doctor said, his voice considerably less steady than his son's. "Do you…d'you want one of us to stay with you?"
"No," Alex said quietly. "But could you ask Thallie to come?"
"Of course," the Doctor said again. His hearts were breaking for his son. They'd already lost so many people they loved over the years: Rose's parents, Mickey, Jake, Thalia's husband Stephen, and Gwen. This was hardly Alex's first major loss. But nothing could ever make up for the loss of one's love. There but for the grace of Bad Wolf go I, the Doctor thought sadly, and tightened his arms around Rose briefly before breaking the embrace with reluctance. Rose sniffled, taking hold of his hand and turning her deep, tear-filled eyes on their son, though she didn't say anything. "You stay here as long as you want, Alex," he said. "We'll take care of everything."
Hand in hand with Rose, he left Alex alone with his wife.
***
The sky was low and overcast the day of Martha's funeral. The family (which had always included Jack) filled the church, children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Alex was bracketed by Thalia and his youngest sister, Polyhymnia. He held their hands tightly as the coffin was lowered into the earth. Rose watched, concerned at his dry eyes-she hadn't seen him cry more than a couple of times since Martha's death a week before-and hoped he wasn't going to go into the same sort of emotionless shut-down his father used to.
She spoke to Jack about it later over cups of tea in her kitchen, after the reception was over and everyone else had gone back to their respective homes-the Doctor had needed to use the TARDIS to take their son Jacob and his wife Janet back to their home on thirty-second-century Mars. "You've been in Alex's shoes," she told him. "Could you talk to him or something? Try to get him to talk to you, maybe?"
"I think Thalia and Polly have done a good job on their own, actually," he said. "Thalia's been through it too, you know, and she's his twin. And he and Polly have almost as close a relationship as he and Thalia do. I'll make a point of swinging round-I think all of us will-but I wouldn't be too worried, Rose."
"I'm a mother," she told him dryly. "It's in the job description."
"Yeah, I think it's part of 'uncle' as well." He sighed. "I know Gwen always wanted kids, but I can't help but be somewhat selfishly glad we never had any. I can't imagine having to bury one of my children, even if they had grown old and died naturally." He shivered.
"You don't think the immortality would pass down genetically?" Rose asked.
He shrugged, leaning back in the chair. "Just as bad if it did, really," he said. "Imagine condemning your child to the kind of immortality you and I have. It doesn't bear thinking about."
"But I have done, in essence," Rose said with a sigh. "My children can all regenerate. And since they're the only ones of Gallifreyan blood left, except the Doctor, every one of them will eventually go through what you and Thallie and Alex already have." She dropped her gaze to her teacup and took a sip, hardly tasting it. This was what immortality was, she was coming to realise: a long succession of funerals.
"You and the Doctor are the luckiest people I know," Jack said. "Both of you essentially immortal. Together for nearly three hundred years, and no end in sight." He gave a small, hollow laugh. "You have no idea how much I envy you."
She glanced up at the pain in his voice, and reached out instinctively to cup his cheek. "I know, Jack," she said. "I know."
He smiled weakly at her, then held out a hand, scooting away from the table. She took it and let him draw her into his lap, and the two friends held each other, drawing strength from each other's presence as they had done so many times before.
***
Forty years later
Alex hummed to himself as he poked around in the engine of the new faster-than-light ship Torchwood had created, using a combination of alien tech and modern human know-how. He was more than a little impressed; he knew far more about space- and time-travel than anyone except his parents, his siblings, and Uncle Jack, and this ship was more than he would ever have expected even Torchwood to come up with on their own. It wasn't their first go at it, of course-more like their sixtieth-but they'd made incredible leaps since the start of the project. It was really amazing.
"Excuse me!" an irritated female voice said, loud enough to echo through the docking bay. "Just what do you think you-oh," she added, when Alex pulled his head out of the engine compartment and turned round to look at her. "Sorry, Dr Tyler. I didn't realise it was you."
"Alex, please," he corrected with a smile. He'd seen her around the building, though he'd never actually met her. Not surprising that she knew his name, though; he was, after all, one of the highest-ranking men at Torchwood. "It's all right; I didn't tell anyone I would be in today." He stepped back, wiping his hands on an already-filthy cloth. "She's a thing of beauty. Never seen anything like her."
"Thanks," the woman said with a note of pride. "We did a good job on her, if I do say so myself."
She reached up to run an affectionate hand over the side of the ship, and Alex was reminded of his father in the TARDIS. He grinned. "So you were on the design team?" he asked.
"And production," she agreed, nodding. "I designed and wired the guidance system. Can't guarantee whether the team who put the engine together will get her to fly, but if they do, they'll know where they're going!"
They both laughed, and Alex took the chance to look more carefully at her. She was a small, delicately-built woman, about five foot three and slender. Her hair was straight, thick, and light brown, secured at the nape of her neck to keep it out of her way, and her eyes were a wide, bright hazel, huge in her heart-shaped face. She laughed unselfconsciously, and smiled easily. His eyes flickered down to her hand: no ring. Not that that meant anything, but still…
He made a decision. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Maria Caldwell."
"Well, Maria, I haven't managed to sneak away for dinner yet. Want to join me? You can tell me about the design and production of this fabulous ship, and we can both pretend we're actually working."
She laughed again, and there was a definite spark of interest in her eye. "I'd be happy to, Dr-Alex. Just let me get my handbag from my desk. Meet you at the lifts in ten minutes?"
"Sounds good," he said, smiling at her. She smiled back and turned to go. He watched her as she walked across the docking bay, and then flushed when she turned back to glance at him as she reached the door, and caught him looking. Her smile broadened, and she disappeared through the door without another word.
Chuckling to himself, Alex tucked his hands into his pockets and made for the other door, sauntering along. "I think you'd like her, Martha," he said to the air. "Got a sense of humour, I can tell. And definitely intelligent. Dinner's not quite as interesting a first date as rescuing Mum from a parallel universe, but really, what is?"
With another chuckle, he left the docking bay and headed for the nearest men's room. It had been a long time since he'd had a date; he ought to spruce up a bit.
fin