Fic - Where Ever I May Roam
Screw it. It's un-betaed, but done like a done thing.
Title: Where Ever I May Roam
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG. For language, mostly.
Spoilers: Post-S3. And features That Companion Spoiler for S4.
Feedback: is a girl's best friend. Constructive criticism is, as always, actively encouraged.
Warnings: Not a doctor. Not a UK native. Unbetaed and unbound. Despair ye, all who enter here.
Note: Inspired by comments in post-finale threads that there should be drunken text messages between the Doctor and Martha. It all went downhill from there.
Summary: In which there are phone calls, text messages, friends who let friends drunk-dial and Torchwood.
WHERE EVER I MAY ROAM
Phone Message 2:04 AM GMT
“You've got Martha's phone. Message away!”
“Wha-? Didn't even change my message? Damn. Should've thought of that. Actually, no, you should've thought of that and then told me and-and then I wouldn't feel like such an idiot leaving a message to myself at - at...Kate, what time is it?”
“Two. Is that the ex? Ohmigawd, you're drunk-calling your ex!”
“I am not! Not my ex, anyway.”
“You are! Lemme speak to 'im!”
“What? No! Leggo! Give me-”
“'alo Martha's ex, you git! She's a dooooctor now! So there! Ow! Hey, quit it! That's my hair-!”
“Um, yeah. Sorry 'bout that.”
“Owww, didn't have to hit so hard...”
“Just wanted to let you know I passed my exams. And that I'm not drunk.”
“You soooo are.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Still on the phone, then.”
“Oh, shit.”
Text Message 2:35 AM GMT
MAY B A LIL DRNK. - M.
Phone Message 9:25 AM GMT
“You've reached the voicemail of Dr. Martha Jones. If this is urgent, please page me at 07555 435500. Otherwise, leave a message after the beep.”
“Hello? Am I doing this right? Just realized I never actually left one of these voice-thingergadgets before. That's sort of weird, now that I think of it, but I never had much need to. Well, I guess I don't really need to now, either, but I don't know. Seems rude if I don’t. And it's pretty straight forward, really - wait for beep, leave message. Which is what I'm doing right now. Leaving a message, that is. If I were waiting for the beep, you'd hardly know, right?
“Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. Martha Jones! Doctor! That's brilliant, that is. Best job in the whole universe, if I do say so myself. And you got one up on me with the diploma. Never did do well on my exams. But you! Blimey, that's fantastic. Congratulations. And, um, yes. Okay. That's all.”
Phone Message 6:43 PM GMT
“This is the Doctor, currently residing at Martha’s old phone number. If you’re trying to reach me, Martha, I can’t answer right now, possibly because the universe is ending or there are some really good drink specials at Milliways. And if you’re trying to reach Martha Jones, clearly she isn’t here anymore. What sort of friend are you that you don’t have her new number? For shame.”
“…you are so blessedly weird. And of course I’m brilliant. I’m insulted you had any doubt. And hang on, what do you mean you don’t have a diploma? All this time bragging on how clever you are and you aren’t even a proper doctor?”
Phone Message 10:23 PM GMT
“It’s not my fault I don’t test well!”
Phone Message 11:52 PM GMT
“Bwahahahahaha!”
Phone Message 1:07 AM GMT
“Leaving a message just to cackle maniacally is not as funny as you think it is, Ms. Jones.”
Text Message 1:33 AM GMT
BETTER TO LAUGH BY TXT? HA!
O GD Y M I STILL AWAKE? - M.
Text Message 1:39 AM GMT
I’m still awake, so that’s hardly impressive. Also what’s the point to all of this text nonsense? It’s like taking a perfectly good form of communication and making it twice as difficult just for the sake of -
Text Message 1:43 AM GMT
-Character limit exceeded? What does that even mean? Well, fine, just be that way. Stupid phone.
Text Message 10:35 AM GMT
MEANS U TALK 2 MUCH EVEN IN TXT. - M.
Phone Message 11:24 PM GMT
“Are you implying I babble, Ms. Jones?”
Phone Message 11:30 PM GMT
“What imply? I outright said. And that’s Dr. Jones to you, Mr. Smith.”
Phone Message 3:45 PM GMT
“Maaaartha. Tell the bartender ‘m not too drunk to drive an’ he can give my TARDISH keys ba’ right thish inshtant...No, ‘m not gonna give you that, ger’off!”
“Ma’am, not sure who your boyfriend is, but he’s staying here ‘til he sleeps it off or you come and pick him up.”
“No, ‘m not!”
“Unless I kick him out for belligerence.”
Phone Message 4:47 PM GMT
“Doctor, nowhere on Earth does ‘Martha’ translate into ‘Designated Driver.’ And considering you’re not even on Earth right now, you can find a way home your own damn self.”
Phone Message 5:17 PM GMT
“Mar’fa. Me ‘gain. Sorry. Jus’ wanted you t’know. Love you. ‘night.”
Phone Message 6:33 PM GMT
“Did you just - I mean that isn’t - you can’t just say things like that! Not after all…
“…oh, sod it. Call me when the hangover wears off.”
Phone Message 12:55 PM GMT
“Martha, ah, this is - all right, this is a little embarrassing, but I don’t remember actually calling you last night. Though Thomas - that’s the bartender, lovely chap, have to introduce you two sometime - said I may have left some messages. And, well, I just heard the mail you left. Whatever it was I said, I’m sorry. I really didn’t - this is stupid, apologizing to a machine. Well, an un-sentient machine at any rate. Couple of sentient robots out there - did you meet them? Can’t remember off the top of my head if we stopped over on any of those planets or not. And I’m babbling again, aren’t I? Right. Well, this is me and I’m sorry and I’m not hungover. Anymore. Bye.”
Phone Message 8:45 PM GMT
“Sorry, me again. Just hadn’t heard back from you and I wasn’t sure if you were still mad or not.”
Phone Message 4:30 AM GMT
“Oh, stars, you are still mad, aren’t you?”
Phone Message 10:44 AM GMT
“Right. I’m going to stop calling now. This is me saying, I’m not gonna call again.”
Phone Message 2:37 PM GST
“Sarah J - wait, hang on, this is Martha’s voicemail. Oh, bollocks. See what you’ve done to me? Not even trying to call you and now I have some sort of Pavlovian reaction in dialing your number automatically. Officially, I am the saddest saddo in all of time and space.”
Phone Message 8:23 PM GMT
“Hey, Doctor. Sorry it took so long to get back to you. Twenty-four hour call really is the fourth circle of hell, as it turns out. Anyway, know you left a couple messages but my voicemail appears to have eaten most of them. Kind of hope they weren’t about the end of the world or anything...oh god, were they about the end of the world? That’d be a bit embarrassing, wouldn’t it?
“Anyway, did you want to talk? Got a little time right now if you do, so call me back.”
Text Message 9:14 PM GMT
No. Just...wanted to make sure we were still all right.
Text Message 9:22 PM GMT
ALWAYS - M.
Text Message 9:30 PM GMT
Good. Good night, Martha Jones.
Text Message 9:34 PM GMT
NIGHT DR. - M.
Phone Call 2:22 PM GMT
“Doctor, listen-”
“This isn’t the Doctor.”
“Oh. Who’s this?”
“Donna. Who’re you?”
“Martha Jones. Ah, look-”
“Oh, you’re the one that keeps texting him!”
“Um, yep. That’s me, I guess. Look, he’s not there at the moment, is he?”
“No, he’s...tied up.”
“...you mean that literally, don’t you.”
“Little furry things with spears. They want to sacrifice him in my honor.”
“Your honor?”
“Redheads are sort of like gods here, apparently. As you do.”
“I’d say I’m surprised but I’m really, really not.”
“Right, well, it’d be nice to chat and everything, but-”
“-you’re a little busy. Got it. Tell him I called when he’s recovered his dignity, will you?”
“Not a problem.”
“Ta.”
Phone Message 5:04 AM GMT
“It was not, for the record, a virgin sacrifice, no matter what rumors Donna’s been spreading about me. And she’s a fine one to talk since she’s hardly a natural ginger and - ow! Donna, don’t slap me when I’m on the phone!”
Phone Message 7:03 PM GMT
“Hi, this is Dr. Owen Harper. You were on Martha Jones’ speed dial as her GP and I was hoping you could answer some questions pertaining to her medical records. There’s been an…incident and I need to know of any allergies, genetic disorders or pregnancies she might have had. If you can call me back on her cell or fax those records over to 029 2055 6731, it’d be much appreciated.”
Phone Message 7:12 PM GMT
“Doctor, it’s Jack. Ignore that previous message. Martha’s fine, I’m fine, we’re all fine here. How’re you?”
Phone Message 8:58 PM GMT
“Jack! What the hell has Torchwood done now?! And what did you do to Martha? Pick up! JAAAACK!”
Phone Message 4:57 AM GMT
“Ohmigawd, were you worried? Tha’s sooooo sweet! You’re jus’ a sweetheart, you are. Should come right over here and lemme give you a big hug, you big ol’ softy bear.”
“Martha, give me the phone.”
“Ah, no, don’ do tha’! Need to tell him I looove him. He luffs me, y’know. Tol’ me so.”
“That’s great, Martha. Mind if I tell him that for you?”
“Awww, you looove him, too. Tha’s so sweet!”
“Yeah, so you keep saying. Hey, Doc, Jack again. Listen, Martha’s fine, really.”
“Loooove you!”
“Just a little doped up at the moment.”
“An’ I love you, too, Jack.”
“And, uh, slightly more amorous than usual. Crisis averted, apocalypse canceled, no need to get all Oncoming Storm on us. We’ve got it sorted. I’m just gonna put Ms. Thing here to bed-”
“Ooooh, sexy!”
“-and I’ll catch up with you later.”
Phone Message 6:43 AM GMT
“Jack, I - no words. I have no words. One of you call me back whenever.”
Text Message 6:35 PM GMT
OMG. I CALLED U. V. EMBARASSING. SRY.- M.
Text Message 6:41 PM GMT
Nah, hardly the worse thing to do on pain meds. I once held myself hostage after a difficult regeneration. Ask me about it sometime.
Text Message 6:52 PM GMT
...ALWAYS SOMETHING NEW WITH U. - M.
Text Message 7:01 PM GMT
No, really, it’s a funny story. Also had another doctor in it. Grace Holloway. Oh, she was lovely, she was. Well, other than killing me the once. You’d get along famously, I just know it. I should really look her -
Text Message 7:05 PM GMT
Stupid character limit.
Text Message 7:10 PM GMT
@_@ - M.
Text Message 7:13 PM GMT
I have no idea what that means.
Text Message 7:18 PM GMT
MEANS UR EXHAUSTING. GOING BACK TO BED. - M.
Phone Message 11:09 PM GMT
“I just got to meet Harriet Jones! Jack knows her from all the Torchwood stuff and there was some sort of official function he took me to and I met her! Harriet. Jones!
“Though she’s got this thing where her left eye starts twitching whenever your name gets mentioned. What in the world did you do to her?”
Phone Message 2:16 AM GMT
“It’s not my fault! Well, mostly not my fault. Eighty percent. Eighty percent not my fault. Maybe seventy-five. And could hardly have expected who’d take over after -
“And I’ve got an idea! Let’s never mention this ever again!”
Phone Message 6:57 AM GMT
“You really have a knack for pissing off both our parliament and our monarchy, don’t you?”
Phone Message 8:02 AM GMT
“I’ll have you know Winston Churchill and I got along quite well, thank you very much. And President Rebecca Bartlett always thought I was dashing. Though I suppose you wouldn’t know her since she won’t be elected until 2106. It’s a landslide victory, by the way. Charming woman. And quite the political genius. Shame it takes so long for the Americans to figure it out.”
Phone Message 3:45 PM GMT
“Martha? It’s Donna. The Doctor told me to try Jack Harkness first but he kept hitting on me and frankly, I’m not that hard up that I need to have phone sex with some unhinged American with too much time on his hands. Anyway, he said if he ever stayed unconscious for too long, I’d need to put him into some sort of stasis-whatzit and give him an injection. ‘Cept I don’t know what to give him since he’d said I probably wouldn’t need it and was he this infuriating when you lived here? Because I have half a mind to leave him on the floor and let him sort it out on his own. Only then I’d be stuck here, too. So, call back, alright? Quick as you can.”
Phone Call 4:23 PM GMT
“Martha?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Oh, thank Christ.”
“Okay, Donna, listen. Where are you right now?”
“Infirmary. Dragged him over to the little coffin thing, but I don’t have any idea what I’m supposed to do now.”
“It’s some sort of stasis unit. High-tech medical equipment. Human, more or less, but from, like, the fifty-second century or something. How’s his breathing?”
“A little raspy but I think it’s even.”
“Hearts?”
“Um, hang on...one’s...I dunno. They both sound really fast. Like hummingbirds.”
“Tachycardia. Dammit. Okay, I need you to look in the fourth cabinet to the left of the stasis unit.”
“Right. I’m there.”
“Third shelf up. Should be something labeled atenolol.”
“Yeah, I see it.”
“Take a syringe - um, second - no, wait, third drawer on your right - and fill it with the atenolol.”
“...that seems like a lot.”
“I know, but we need to get his hearts-rate down and a human-sized dose isn’t going to cut it.”
“Okay, okay...got it.”
“Now, this is important. You're going to have to inject it directly into his vein.”
“Oh god.”
“Donna, you've got to concentrate here.”
“No, it's just - I hate needles.”
“Donna -”
“Sorry, sorry. So, what, I put it in his arm?”
“Try to find a visible vein. Elbow will probably be the easiest.”
“Right, ummm...hang on, sleeve's up. He really is a skinny thing, isn't he?”
“Never did seem to eat enough, no.”
“Okay - ew, ew, ew...'s in. I think. Now what?”
“Make sure he's all the way in the unit and press the green button on the right.”
“Right and - ahhhh!”
“Yeah, I did the same thing, first time.”
“That is the strangest thing I ever saw. And he just -”
“Pops out, good as new in about twenty-four hours. Don't ask how it works. He won't tell you or he'll try to overwhelm you with technobabble and hope you don't ask again.”
“How'd you stand it?”
“Learned to pick my battles.”
“...he really is a bit rubbish with people, isn't he?”
“Ha. Yeah, he is. Listen, I'm sorry but I've got to go. I'm still at work and I think they'll start to notice their surgical intern missing if I don't get back.”
“'Course, yeah. And, um, thanks.”
“Any time. He gives you any grief, give me a call, yeah?”
“Sure. Bye, then.”
Phone Message 5:43 PM GMT
“Good gods, Martha, what'd you say to Donna? I come out of stasis - good job on that, by the way - and the first thing she does is slap me and burst into tears. All I've heard is something about you and tachycardia and how I'm rubbish with people and then she starts crying again.”
Phone Message 7:23 PM GMT
“She's right. You are rubbish with people. Take her somewhere nice. Tropical. Buy her some flowers - yellow flowers, and I mean that - and apologize for almost dying on her without a backup plan.”
Phone Message 10:06 PM GMT
“My life was never this complicated before I got a bloody mobile.”
Phone Message 11:27 PM GMT
“Doctor, I mean this with all due affection, but - stop being an arse and just do it.”
Phone Message 7:18 PM GMT
“Doctor, it’s me. Um, just-just give me a call. I, um, I really need to talk to someone right now.”
Phone Call 7:28 PM GMT
“Martha, what happened?”
“Lost someone on the table today. Little girl.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry, sorry, this is so stupid, I know. I mean, hardly the first time I’ve seen something terrible happen, right? Saw all those things, during that year. Could tell you horror stories, I could.”
“Martha…”
“And not like it wasn’t bound to happen eventually, right? Law of averages. I knew that I couldn’t always save everyone, I knew it. So, just bad luck it was an eight-year-old girl, right?”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. Because before I could at least pretend. We’ll un-do it all and everyone will be okay and they won’t have died and that’s fine, except - except now I can’t. Girl’s dead and I have to tell her parents we can’t bring her back and - a-and...”
“Martha?”
“...’m alright...”
“It...gets better.”
“Liar.”
“No - it’s...that sick feeling? The one where you knew it was someone’s life you were directly responsible for? That never goes away. And if it does, well, worry. But everything else? Won’t always feel like the world’s ending - unless it is. But that usually has somewhat less mobile phone calls and more setting things on fire.”
“Yeah.”
“Chin up. Had a bad day. Tomorrow’ll be better.”
“...not about to start singing, are you?”
“Nah. My singing’s been outlawed in three galaxies as cruel and usual punishment. Wouldn’t want to subject you to that.”
“I appreciate it, then. And sorry to unload all this on you. Know you’re not really into sitting on the phone, listening to me blubber.”
“Martha Jones, don’t you ever apologize for giving me a call.”
“Okay. Okay, then. I have to go. And, Doctor?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Phone Message 6:37 PM GMT
“Hello, erm, Dr. Smith. My name’s Toshiko, I’m a friend of Martha’s. Listen, we’re trying to put together this thing for her birthday tomorrow and Jack said you’d been seeing her but you’d been out of town on business for a while. I thought it’d be a nice surprise for her if we could get you over to the pub before she gets there. Jack said you had your own transportation? He’s being evasive, but you know him. Anyway, if you’re available, give me a call back. Thanks.”
Phone Message 9:54 PM GMT
“Jack, why does everyone have this number? I only ask because I was sure Martha was the only one who knew and yet I keep getting calls from your people asking me out to surprise birthday parties or for medical records I don’t have. It’s disconcerting.”
Phone Message 11:06 PM GMT
“Hey, I didn’t give Tosh anything. She’s a tech geek - figured it out all on her own. And it wouldn’t kill you to show up.”
Phone Call 10:31 PM GMT
“’lo?”
“Mum?”
“What?”
“Leo, what’re you doin’?”
“Thought this was Mum’s number.”
“Leo Jones, I am very much not your mother.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Phone Message 10:53 PM GMT
“Sorry about Leo. Had a little too much to drink.”
“Izzat your boyfriend?”
“No! God, why does everyone keep asking that?”
“I know who that is! Lemme talk to him!”
“Jack, no, don - why do I even bother?”
“Doctor, you cad. You utter scoundrel. Leaving our poor, defenseless-“
“Defenseless?”
“Hush, he’s on a roll.”
“-defenseless Martha to fend her lonely way through her birthday without you. A pox on you, sir. A pox, I say!”
“Oh, good god.”
“Also, no gift? No flowers? Not even a card? Cheap, Doc, that’s what you are. A cheapskate. Or date. As the case may be.”
“Thank you, Jack. Now, where was I?”
“Telling him off!”
“Right. Anyway, we’re at the McGovern Pub up in Cardiff - yes, Tosh, I know you invited him. Come if you can. Jack said to tell you we have banana daiquiris. Talk to you later.”
Phone Call 5:26 PM GMT
“What?”
“Martha?”
“Is the world ending?”
“Um, no, not that I know of.”
“Aliens invading? Dimensions shifting? Zombies?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then - no, I’ll be right there! I’ve just got - now’s not a good time.”
“Right. I’ll call back.”
Phone Call 8:02 AM GMT
“Listen, Doc-“
“People...shooting...at us. Can’t...talk...running.”
“Okay, then.”
Text Message 5:42 PM GMT
EVER FEEL LIKE THERES A JOKE THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE GETS AND U DONT? - M
Text Message 1:57 AM GMT
Pretty sure my people invented that.
Phone Call 3:47 PM GMT
“Mr. Smith.”
“Dr. Jones.”
“I need a pickup.”
“I’m on my way.”
FIN
Title: Where Ever I May Roam
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG. For language, mostly.
Spoilers: Post-S3. And features That Companion Spoiler for S4.
Feedback: is a girl's best friend. Constructive criticism is, as always, actively encouraged.
Warnings: Not a doctor. Not a UK native. Unbetaed and unbound. Despair ye, all who enter here.
Note: Inspired by comments in post-finale threads that there should be drunken text messages between the Doctor and Martha. It all went downhill from there.
Summary: In which there are phone calls, text messages, friends who let friends drunk-dial and Torchwood.
WHERE EVER I MAY ROAM
Phone Message 2:04 AM GMT
“You've got Martha's phone. Message away!”
“Wha-? Didn't even change my message? Damn. Should've thought of that. Actually, no, you should've thought of that and then told me and-and then I wouldn't feel like such an idiot leaving a message to myself at - at...Kate, what time is it?”
“Two. Is that the ex? Ohmigawd, you're drunk-calling your ex!”
“I am not! Not my ex, anyway.”
“You are! Lemme speak to 'im!”
“What? No! Leggo! Give me-”
“'alo Martha's ex, you git! She's a dooooctor now! So there! Ow! Hey, quit it! That's my hair-!”
“Um, yeah. Sorry 'bout that.”
“Owww, didn't have to hit so hard...”
“Just wanted to let you know I passed my exams. And that I'm not drunk.”
“You soooo are.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Still on the phone, then.”
“Oh, shit.”
Text Message 2:35 AM GMT
MAY B A LIL DRNK. - M.
Phone Message 9:25 AM GMT
“You've reached the voicemail of Dr. Martha Jones. If this is urgent, please page me at 07555 435500. Otherwise, leave a message after the beep.”
“Hello? Am I doing this right? Just realized I never actually left one of these voice-thingergadgets before. That's sort of weird, now that I think of it, but I never had much need to. Well, I guess I don't really need to now, either, but I don't know. Seems rude if I don’t. And it's pretty straight forward, really - wait for beep, leave message. Which is what I'm doing right now. Leaving a message, that is. If I were waiting for the beep, you'd hardly know, right?
“Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. Martha Jones! Doctor! That's brilliant, that is. Best job in the whole universe, if I do say so myself. And you got one up on me with the diploma. Never did do well on my exams. But you! Blimey, that's fantastic. Congratulations. And, um, yes. Okay. That's all.”
Phone Message 6:43 PM GMT
“This is the Doctor, currently residing at Martha’s old phone number. If you’re trying to reach me, Martha, I can’t answer right now, possibly because the universe is ending or there are some really good drink specials at Milliways. And if you’re trying to reach Martha Jones, clearly she isn’t here anymore. What sort of friend are you that you don’t have her new number? For shame.”
“…you are so blessedly weird. And of course I’m brilliant. I’m insulted you had any doubt. And hang on, what do you mean you don’t have a diploma? All this time bragging on how clever you are and you aren’t even a proper doctor?”
Phone Message 10:23 PM GMT
“It’s not my fault I don’t test well!”
Phone Message 11:52 PM GMT
“Bwahahahahaha!”
Phone Message 1:07 AM GMT
“Leaving a message just to cackle maniacally is not as funny as you think it is, Ms. Jones.”
Text Message 1:33 AM GMT
BETTER TO LAUGH BY TXT? HA!
O GD Y M I STILL AWAKE? - M.
Text Message 1:39 AM GMT
I’m still awake, so that’s hardly impressive. Also what’s the point to all of this text nonsense? It’s like taking a perfectly good form of communication and making it twice as difficult just for the sake of -
Text Message 1:43 AM GMT
-Character limit exceeded? What does that even mean? Well, fine, just be that way. Stupid phone.
Text Message 10:35 AM GMT
MEANS U TALK 2 MUCH EVEN IN TXT. - M.
Phone Message 11:24 PM GMT
“Are you implying I babble, Ms. Jones?”
Phone Message 11:30 PM GMT
“What imply? I outright said. And that’s Dr. Jones to you, Mr. Smith.”
Phone Message 3:45 PM GMT
“Maaaartha. Tell the bartender ‘m not too drunk to drive an’ he can give my TARDISH keys ba’ right thish inshtant...No, ‘m not gonna give you that, ger’off!”
“Ma’am, not sure who your boyfriend is, but he’s staying here ‘til he sleeps it off or you come and pick him up.”
“No, ‘m not!”
“Unless I kick him out for belligerence.”
Phone Message 4:47 PM GMT
“Doctor, nowhere on Earth does ‘Martha’ translate into ‘Designated Driver.’ And considering you’re not even on Earth right now, you can find a way home your own damn self.”
Phone Message 5:17 PM GMT
“Mar’fa. Me ‘gain. Sorry. Jus’ wanted you t’know. Love you. ‘night.”
Phone Message 6:33 PM GMT
“Did you just - I mean that isn’t - you can’t just say things like that! Not after all…
“…oh, sod it. Call me when the hangover wears off.”
Phone Message 12:55 PM GMT
“Martha, ah, this is - all right, this is a little embarrassing, but I don’t remember actually calling you last night. Though Thomas - that’s the bartender, lovely chap, have to introduce you two sometime - said I may have left some messages. And, well, I just heard the mail you left. Whatever it was I said, I’m sorry. I really didn’t - this is stupid, apologizing to a machine. Well, an un-sentient machine at any rate. Couple of sentient robots out there - did you meet them? Can’t remember off the top of my head if we stopped over on any of those planets or not. And I’m babbling again, aren’t I? Right. Well, this is me and I’m sorry and I’m not hungover. Anymore. Bye.”
Phone Message 8:45 PM GMT
“Sorry, me again. Just hadn’t heard back from you and I wasn’t sure if you were still mad or not.”
Phone Message 4:30 AM GMT
“Oh, stars, you are still mad, aren’t you?”
Phone Message 10:44 AM GMT
“Right. I’m going to stop calling now. This is me saying, I’m not gonna call again.”
Phone Message 2:37 PM GST
“Sarah J - wait, hang on, this is Martha’s voicemail. Oh, bollocks. See what you’ve done to me? Not even trying to call you and now I have some sort of Pavlovian reaction in dialing your number automatically. Officially, I am the saddest saddo in all of time and space.”
Phone Message 8:23 PM GMT
“Hey, Doctor. Sorry it took so long to get back to you. Twenty-four hour call really is the fourth circle of hell, as it turns out. Anyway, know you left a couple messages but my voicemail appears to have eaten most of them. Kind of hope they weren’t about the end of the world or anything...oh god, were they about the end of the world? That’d be a bit embarrassing, wouldn’t it?
“Anyway, did you want to talk? Got a little time right now if you do, so call me back.”
Text Message 9:14 PM GMT
No. Just...wanted to make sure we were still all right.
Text Message 9:22 PM GMT
ALWAYS - M.
Text Message 9:30 PM GMT
Good. Good night, Martha Jones.
Text Message 9:34 PM GMT
NIGHT DR. - M.
Phone Call 2:22 PM GMT
“Doctor, listen-”
“This isn’t the Doctor.”
“Oh. Who’s this?”
“Donna. Who’re you?”
“Martha Jones. Ah, look-”
“Oh, you’re the one that keeps texting him!”
“Um, yep. That’s me, I guess. Look, he’s not there at the moment, is he?”
“No, he’s...tied up.”
“...you mean that literally, don’t you.”
“Little furry things with spears. They want to sacrifice him in my honor.”
“Your honor?”
“Redheads are sort of like gods here, apparently. As you do.”
“I’d say I’m surprised but I’m really, really not.”
“Right, well, it’d be nice to chat and everything, but-”
“-you’re a little busy. Got it. Tell him I called when he’s recovered his dignity, will you?”
“Not a problem.”
“Ta.”
Phone Message 5:04 AM GMT
“It was not, for the record, a virgin sacrifice, no matter what rumors Donna’s been spreading about me. And she’s a fine one to talk since she’s hardly a natural ginger and - ow! Donna, don’t slap me when I’m on the phone!”
Phone Message 7:03 PM GMT
“Hi, this is Dr. Owen Harper. You were on Martha Jones’ speed dial as her GP and I was hoping you could answer some questions pertaining to her medical records. There’s been an…incident and I need to know of any allergies, genetic disorders or pregnancies she might have had. If you can call me back on her cell or fax those records over to 029 2055 6731, it’d be much appreciated.”
Phone Message 7:12 PM GMT
“Doctor, it’s Jack. Ignore that previous message. Martha’s fine, I’m fine, we’re all fine here. How’re you?”
Phone Message 8:58 PM GMT
“Jack! What the hell has Torchwood done now?! And what did you do to Martha? Pick up! JAAAACK!”
Phone Message 4:57 AM GMT
“Ohmigawd, were you worried? Tha’s sooooo sweet! You’re jus’ a sweetheart, you are. Should come right over here and lemme give you a big hug, you big ol’ softy bear.”
“Martha, give me the phone.”
“Ah, no, don’ do tha’! Need to tell him I looove him. He luffs me, y’know. Tol’ me so.”
“That’s great, Martha. Mind if I tell him that for you?”
“Awww, you looove him, too. Tha’s so sweet!”
“Yeah, so you keep saying. Hey, Doc, Jack again. Listen, Martha’s fine, really.”
“Loooove you!”
“Just a little doped up at the moment.”
“An’ I love you, too, Jack.”
“And, uh, slightly more amorous than usual. Crisis averted, apocalypse canceled, no need to get all Oncoming Storm on us. We’ve got it sorted. I’m just gonna put Ms. Thing here to bed-”
“Ooooh, sexy!”
“-and I’ll catch up with you later.”
Phone Message 6:43 AM GMT
“Jack, I - no words. I have no words. One of you call me back whenever.”
Text Message 6:35 PM GMT
OMG. I CALLED U. V. EMBARASSING. SRY.- M.
Text Message 6:41 PM GMT
Nah, hardly the worse thing to do on pain meds. I once held myself hostage after a difficult regeneration. Ask me about it sometime.
Text Message 6:52 PM GMT
...ALWAYS SOMETHING NEW WITH U. - M.
Text Message 7:01 PM GMT
No, really, it’s a funny story. Also had another doctor in it. Grace Holloway. Oh, she was lovely, she was. Well, other than killing me the once. You’d get along famously, I just know it. I should really look her -
Text Message 7:05 PM GMT
Stupid character limit.
Text Message 7:10 PM GMT
@_@ - M.
Text Message 7:13 PM GMT
I have no idea what that means.
Text Message 7:18 PM GMT
MEANS UR EXHAUSTING. GOING BACK TO BED. - M.
Phone Message 11:09 PM GMT
“I just got to meet Harriet Jones! Jack knows her from all the Torchwood stuff and there was some sort of official function he took me to and I met her! Harriet. Jones!
“Though she’s got this thing where her left eye starts twitching whenever your name gets mentioned. What in the world did you do to her?”
Phone Message 2:16 AM GMT
“It’s not my fault! Well, mostly not my fault. Eighty percent. Eighty percent not my fault. Maybe seventy-five. And could hardly have expected who’d take over after -
“And I’ve got an idea! Let’s never mention this ever again!”
Phone Message 6:57 AM GMT
“You really have a knack for pissing off both our parliament and our monarchy, don’t you?”
Phone Message 8:02 AM GMT
“I’ll have you know Winston Churchill and I got along quite well, thank you very much. And President Rebecca Bartlett always thought I was dashing. Though I suppose you wouldn’t know her since she won’t be elected until 2106. It’s a landslide victory, by the way. Charming woman. And quite the political genius. Shame it takes so long for the Americans to figure it out.”
Phone Message 3:45 PM GMT
“Martha? It’s Donna. The Doctor told me to try Jack Harkness first but he kept hitting on me and frankly, I’m not that hard up that I need to have phone sex with some unhinged American with too much time on his hands. Anyway, he said if he ever stayed unconscious for too long, I’d need to put him into some sort of stasis-whatzit and give him an injection. ‘Cept I don’t know what to give him since he’d said I probably wouldn’t need it and was he this infuriating when you lived here? Because I have half a mind to leave him on the floor and let him sort it out on his own. Only then I’d be stuck here, too. So, call back, alright? Quick as you can.”
Phone Call 4:23 PM GMT
“Martha?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Oh, thank Christ.”
“Okay, Donna, listen. Where are you right now?”
“Infirmary. Dragged him over to the little coffin thing, but I don’t have any idea what I’m supposed to do now.”
“It’s some sort of stasis unit. High-tech medical equipment. Human, more or less, but from, like, the fifty-second century or something. How’s his breathing?”
“A little raspy but I think it’s even.”
“Hearts?”
“Um, hang on...one’s...I dunno. They both sound really fast. Like hummingbirds.”
“Tachycardia. Dammit. Okay, I need you to look in the fourth cabinet to the left of the stasis unit.”
“Right. I’m there.”
“Third shelf up. Should be something labeled atenolol.”
“Yeah, I see it.”
“Take a syringe - um, second - no, wait, third drawer on your right - and fill it with the atenolol.”
“...that seems like a lot.”
“I know, but we need to get his hearts-rate down and a human-sized dose isn’t going to cut it.”
“Okay, okay...got it.”
“Now, this is important. You're going to have to inject it directly into his vein.”
“Oh god.”
“Donna, you've got to concentrate here.”
“No, it's just - I hate needles.”
“Donna -”
“Sorry, sorry. So, what, I put it in his arm?”
“Try to find a visible vein. Elbow will probably be the easiest.”
“Right, ummm...hang on, sleeve's up. He really is a skinny thing, isn't he?”
“Never did seem to eat enough, no.”
“Okay - ew, ew, ew...'s in. I think. Now what?”
“Make sure he's all the way in the unit and press the green button on the right.”
“Right and - ahhhh!”
“Yeah, I did the same thing, first time.”
“That is the strangest thing I ever saw. And he just -”
“Pops out, good as new in about twenty-four hours. Don't ask how it works. He won't tell you or he'll try to overwhelm you with technobabble and hope you don't ask again.”
“How'd you stand it?”
“Learned to pick my battles.”
“...he really is a bit rubbish with people, isn't he?”
“Ha. Yeah, he is. Listen, I'm sorry but I've got to go. I'm still at work and I think they'll start to notice their surgical intern missing if I don't get back.”
“'Course, yeah. And, um, thanks.”
“Any time. He gives you any grief, give me a call, yeah?”
“Sure. Bye, then.”
Phone Message 5:43 PM GMT
“Good gods, Martha, what'd you say to Donna? I come out of stasis - good job on that, by the way - and the first thing she does is slap me and burst into tears. All I've heard is something about you and tachycardia and how I'm rubbish with people and then she starts crying again.”
Phone Message 7:23 PM GMT
“She's right. You are rubbish with people. Take her somewhere nice. Tropical. Buy her some flowers - yellow flowers, and I mean that - and apologize for almost dying on her without a backup plan.”
Phone Message 10:06 PM GMT
“My life was never this complicated before I got a bloody mobile.”
Phone Message 11:27 PM GMT
“Doctor, I mean this with all due affection, but - stop being an arse and just do it.”
Phone Message 7:18 PM GMT
“Doctor, it’s me. Um, just-just give me a call. I, um, I really need to talk to someone right now.”
Phone Call 7:28 PM GMT
“Martha, what happened?”
“Lost someone on the table today. Little girl.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry, sorry, this is so stupid, I know. I mean, hardly the first time I’ve seen something terrible happen, right? Saw all those things, during that year. Could tell you horror stories, I could.”
“Martha…”
“And not like it wasn’t bound to happen eventually, right? Law of averages. I knew that I couldn’t always save everyone, I knew it. So, just bad luck it was an eight-year-old girl, right?”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. Because before I could at least pretend. We’ll un-do it all and everyone will be okay and they won’t have died and that’s fine, except - except now I can’t. Girl’s dead and I have to tell her parents we can’t bring her back and - a-and...”
“Martha?”
“...’m alright...”
“It...gets better.”
“Liar.”
“No - it’s...that sick feeling? The one where you knew it was someone’s life you were directly responsible for? That never goes away. And if it does, well, worry. But everything else? Won’t always feel like the world’s ending - unless it is. But that usually has somewhat less mobile phone calls and more setting things on fire.”
“Yeah.”
“Chin up. Had a bad day. Tomorrow’ll be better.”
“...not about to start singing, are you?”
“Nah. My singing’s been outlawed in three galaxies as cruel and usual punishment. Wouldn’t want to subject you to that.”
“I appreciate it, then. And sorry to unload all this on you. Know you’re not really into sitting on the phone, listening to me blubber.”
“Martha Jones, don’t you ever apologize for giving me a call.”
“Okay. Okay, then. I have to go. And, Doctor?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Phone Message 6:37 PM GMT
“Hello, erm, Dr. Smith. My name’s Toshiko, I’m a friend of Martha’s. Listen, we’re trying to put together this thing for her birthday tomorrow and Jack said you’d been seeing her but you’d been out of town on business for a while. I thought it’d be a nice surprise for her if we could get you over to the pub before she gets there. Jack said you had your own transportation? He’s being evasive, but you know him. Anyway, if you’re available, give me a call back. Thanks.”
Phone Message 9:54 PM GMT
“Jack, why does everyone have this number? I only ask because I was sure Martha was the only one who knew and yet I keep getting calls from your people asking me out to surprise birthday parties or for medical records I don’t have. It’s disconcerting.”
Phone Message 11:06 PM GMT
“Hey, I didn’t give Tosh anything. She’s a tech geek - figured it out all on her own. And it wouldn’t kill you to show up.”
Phone Call 10:31 PM GMT
“’lo?”
“Mum?”
“What?”
“Leo, what’re you doin’?”
“Thought this was Mum’s number.”
“Leo Jones, I am very much not your mother.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Phone Message 10:53 PM GMT
“Sorry about Leo. Had a little too much to drink.”
“Izzat your boyfriend?”
“No! God, why does everyone keep asking that?”
“I know who that is! Lemme talk to him!”
“Jack, no, don - why do I even bother?”
“Doctor, you cad. You utter scoundrel. Leaving our poor, defenseless-“
“Defenseless?”
“Hush, he’s on a roll.”
“-defenseless Martha to fend her lonely way through her birthday without you. A pox on you, sir. A pox, I say!”
“Oh, good god.”
“Also, no gift? No flowers? Not even a card? Cheap, Doc, that’s what you are. A cheapskate. Or date. As the case may be.”
“Thank you, Jack. Now, where was I?”
“Telling him off!”
“Right. Anyway, we’re at the McGovern Pub up in Cardiff - yes, Tosh, I know you invited him. Come if you can. Jack said to tell you we have banana daiquiris. Talk to you later.”
Phone Call 5:26 PM GMT
“What?”
“Martha?”
“Is the world ending?”
“Um, no, not that I know of.”
“Aliens invading? Dimensions shifting? Zombies?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then - no, I’ll be right there! I’ve just got - now’s not a good time.”
“Right. I’ll call back.”
Phone Call 8:02 AM GMT
“Listen, Doc-“
“People...shooting...at us. Can’t...talk...running.”
“Okay, then.”
Text Message 5:42 PM GMT
EVER FEEL LIKE THERES A JOKE THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE GETS AND U DONT? - M
Text Message 1:57 AM GMT
Pretty sure my people invented that.
Phone Call 3:47 PM GMT
“Mr. Smith.”
“Dr. Jones.”
“I need a pickup.”
“I’m on my way.”
FIN