Fic: Live To Tell (R)
Title: Live To Tell
Characters: James, Martha
Summary: How James saved Martha's life.
Rating: R
A/N: Takes place just before James is turned into a teenager. Beta'ed by the awesome
persiflage_1
Warning: Contains blood and mentions of self-harm.
Martha and James skidded to a halt as they came face to face with a battalion of armed, blue skinned soldiers, pointing their guns at the two time travellers as they stood in a deserted corridor. The current adventure had gone completely wrong from the moment they had arrived on the dusty planet of Waywdgglbbihttgvntok, the name of which both James and Martha stumbled over, with the Doctor being arrested for parking in a red zone as opposed to a white one. The Doctor had been dragged off to one of the cells, and the TARDIS loaded up on a truck and driven away. They had followed the Doctor to the prison and they had planned to release him first before tracking down the TARDIS, especially when they heard that he was going to be executed in the morning for that traffic violation. Both companions had been dismissed as unimportant which surprised them, but it worked perfectly for their plans.
"Let's just talk about this," James said, holding his hands up in surrender. Granted, he and Martha were on their way to break the Doctor out of his cell, but really threatening them with guns... His eye was caught by a sharp piece of metal sticking out from one of the doors and he wondered if he could use it as a weapon if he could just reach it.
"What are you doing?" Martha hissed at him.
James shrugged. "Winging it." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, flashing her a smile.
"Kill them," the leader, a tall imposing alien with a shock of white hair, ordered. "The female first."
"Over my dead body," James growled, moving in front of Martha as if to protect her. The next minute he groaned in pain as one of the soldiers, following orders, shot him point blank in the chest and James collapsed in a heap.
Martha crouched down beside him. "Please don't die," she begged, pressing her hand to his chest, trying to stop the bleeding.
"I won't," James whispered. "Remember my 'condition'?" He heard Martha cry out in agony and collapse on top of him. "Martha?"
"Leave them," the lead soldier commanded, stepping over them. "If they aren't dead, they soon will be. Nothing can survive the poisoned bullets."
James, hearing this, concentrated on trying to heal himself and hoped that Martha was all right. He could hear her ragged breathing and knew that he'd have to get her to a medical centre as soon as possible. He heard the footsteps of the soldiers walking away and turned his attention to the young woman lying on top of him. He gently rolled Martha off him and over onto her back and checked her side where she had been shot. "What do I do?" he asked himself. "I'm not a Doctor. Hold on, Martha." He checked her pulse and breathing. "Think, James, what would the Doctor do?" he asked, busying himself with trying to stop the bleeding. "It's not working! I need to get you to the TARDIS, but I have no idea where it is," he said, "and I don't think carrying you will be good for you either."
A plan jumped into his head a few moments later. It was reckless (and quite possibly earn him a boot off the TARDIS) but, in James' opinion, much better than the alternative and worth the risk. He stood up, grasped hold of the metal and squeezed hard, feeling the sharp edges cut into his hand as he worked it free of the door. "This has to work," he muttered, gritting his teeth in pain as he crouched back down next to Martha, who was looking very pale. He placed his hand on Martha's wound and waited. "Please work," he begged as he waited.
Nothing happened.
"Okay, you're making me work for it," James commented. "Only you could make me do this," he said softly as he ran the impromptu blade over his left wrist with a grunt of pain. He put his hand on her side and waited again.
Martha was getting a lot more colour in her cheeks and she drew in a gasp of breath. She sat up quickly, nearly knocking James onto his back and placed her hand on the spot where she had been shot. "How?"
"My condition," James answered cryptically as he helped her to stand. "We'll discuss it later, firstly we need to get the Doctor out of there and find the TARDIS." He quickly stored the metal in his pocket and checked his wrist to make sure it had healed.
"No, but what did you do?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle." James lowered his voice as he dragged her into a dark alcove. "I'd appreciate you not telling the Doctor yet, though."
"Why?"
James took in a deep breath, knowing Martha wouldn't let it go until she had the answers. "Because I deliberately infected you with my condition to stop you from dying. I'm sorry. I'll understand if you never want to speak to me again," he mumbled, staring at the floor. He let out a muffled 'oof' as she enveloped him in a tight hug.
"You silly thing. How can I not be grateful for you saving my life?" Martha said softly as she buried her face in his chest and breathed in his scent, noticing that her senses seemed to be sharper as she let him go. "Come on, let's find the Doctor and get off this rock." She noticed James was still looking downcast and placed her hand on his arm. "What is it?"
"That thing I did, I dunno what the effects will be on you," James answered quietly. "This isn't a cold, Martha, it's a part of you now. I'm sorry, I've ruined your life."
Martha smacked him, making him yelp in pain. "Don't ever apologise for saving my life... and don't ever think that it's ruined," she growled, glaring at him. "Now come on, or I'll drag you along by the hair."
"Yes, Mistress," James said, knowing that it was best to just obey Martha when she got in this kind of mood.
"Watch it, smart arse, or you'll get punished later."
"Looking forward to it."
Characters: James, Martha
Summary: How James saved Martha's life.
Rating: R
A/N: Takes place just before James is turned into a teenager. Beta'ed by the awesome
persiflage_1
Warning: Contains blood and mentions of self-harm.
Martha and James skidded to a halt as they came face to face with a battalion of armed, blue skinned soldiers, pointing their guns at the two time travellers as they stood in a deserted corridor. The current adventure had gone completely wrong from the moment they had arrived on the dusty planet of Waywdgglbbihttgvntok, the name of which both James and Martha stumbled over, with the Doctor being arrested for parking in a red zone as opposed to a white one. The Doctor had been dragged off to one of the cells, and the TARDIS loaded up on a truck and driven away. They had followed the Doctor to the prison and they had planned to release him first before tracking down the TARDIS, especially when they heard that he was going to be executed in the morning for that traffic violation. Both companions had been dismissed as unimportant which surprised them, but it worked perfectly for their plans.
"Let's just talk about this," James said, holding his hands up in surrender. Granted, he and Martha were on their way to break the Doctor out of his cell, but really threatening them with guns... His eye was caught by a sharp piece of metal sticking out from one of the doors and he wondered if he could use it as a weapon if he could just reach it.
"What are you doing?" Martha hissed at him.
James shrugged. "Winging it." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, flashing her a smile.
"Kill them," the leader, a tall imposing alien with a shock of white hair, ordered. "The female first."
"Over my dead body," James growled, moving in front of Martha as if to protect her. The next minute he groaned in pain as one of the soldiers, following orders, shot him point blank in the chest and James collapsed in a heap.
Martha crouched down beside him. "Please don't die," she begged, pressing her hand to his chest, trying to stop the bleeding.
"I won't," James whispered. "Remember my 'condition'?" He heard Martha cry out in agony and collapse on top of him. "Martha?"
"Leave them," the lead soldier commanded, stepping over them. "If they aren't dead, they soon will be. Nothing can survive the poisoned bullets."
James, hearing this, concentrated on trying to heal himself and hoped that Martha was all right. He could hear her ragged breathing and knew that he'd have to get her to a medical centre as soon as possible. He heard the footsteps of the soldiers walking away and turned his attention to the young woman lying on top of him. He gently rolled Martha off him and over onto her back and checked her side where she had been shot. "What do I do?" he asked himself. "I'm not a Doctor. Hold on, Martha." He checked her pulse and breathing. "Think, James, what would the Doctor do?" he asked, busying himself with trying to stop the bleeding. "It's not working! I need to get you to the TARDIS, but I have no idea where it is," he said, "and I don't think carrying you will be good for you either."
A plan jumped into his head a few moments later. It was reckless (and quite possibly earn him a boot off the TARDIS) but, in James' opinion, much better than the alternative and worth the risk. He stood up, grasped hold of the metal and squeezed hard, feeling the sharp edges cut into his hand as he worked it free of the door. "This has to work," he muttered, gritting his teeth in pain as he crouched back down next to Martha, who was looking very pale. He placed his hand on Martha's wound and waited. "Please work," he begged as he waited.
Nothing happened.
"Okay, you're making me work for it," James commented. "Only you could make me do this," he said softly as he ran the impromptu blade over his left wrist with a grunt of pain. He put his hand on her side and waited again.
Martha was getting a lot more colour in her cheeks and she drew in a gasp of breath. She sat up quickly, nearly knocking James onto his back and placed her hand on the spot where she had been shot. "How?"
"My condition," James answered cryptically as he helped her to stand. "We'll discuss it later, firstly we need to get the Doctor out of there and find the TARDIS." He quickly stored the metal in his pocket and checked his wrist to make sure it had healed.
"No, but what did you do?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle." James lowered his voice as he dragged her into a dark alcove. "I'd appreciate you not telling the Doctor yet, though."
"Why?"
James took in a deep breath, knowing Martha wouldn't let it go until she had the answers. "Because I deliberately infected you with my condition to stop you from dying. I'm sorry. I'll understand if you never want to speak to me again," he mumbled, staring at the floor. He let out a muffled 'oof' as she enveloped him in a tight hug.
"You silly thing. How can I not be grateful for you saving my life?" Martha said softly as she buried her face in his chest and breathed in his scent, noticing that her senses seemed to be sharper as she let him go. "Come on, let's find the Doctor and get off this rock." She noticed James was still looking downcast and placed her hand on his arm. "What is it?"
"That thing I did, I dunno what the effects will be on you," James answered quietly. "This isn't a cold, Martha, it's a part of you now. I'm sorry, I've ruined your life."
Martha smacked him, making him yelp in pain. "Don't ever apologise for saving my life... and don't ever think that it's ruined," she growled, glaring at him. "Now come on, or I'll drag you along by the hair."
"Yes, Mistress," James said, knowing that it was best to just obey Martha when she got in this kind of mood.
"Watch it, smart arse, or you'll get punished later."
"Looking forward to it."