FIC: Fantasy
Title:Fantasy
Author:Yasona Black
Rating:PG-13
Characters/Pairings:It's a bit muddled with some unrequited stuff, but Martha/Mickey
Spoilers: Nothing unless you haven't seen The Last of the Timelords.
Disclaimer:I do not own Doctor Who or any of it's characters.
Summary:“Neither knew whether they should laugh or pity themselves. They did neither and they did both. A lot of one, a little of the other.”
Author’s notes: This was created for the FPA challenge in interpreting the lyrics of a chosen song. Song: "Shores of California" by the Dresden Dolls. Lyrics: "All she really wants is that stupid little bitch romance." I connected it with a pairing prompt I found that said,'Mickey Smith/Martha Jones/Fantasy' I'm new to this community so I hope I'm doing everything alright. I really appreciate constructive criticism and feedback.
“Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey,” Martha said once with a far-off stare, consumed by an old memory. Mickey had given her an incredulous look for it. Martha twisted her lips doubtfully.
They may not have always recognized each other, but they both knew that all they were doing was pure fantasy.
After all, Mickey had been dying to go back home after Rose and the human Doctor had been united. There was little future with Rose and Mickey knew that, but he was only human, much to his disappointment, and some days Mickey wanted the past back. Days of old when aliens and spaceships seemed nothing more than hoaxes, when monsters and nightmares didn’t stand at the edge of the bed waiting to leap the moment sleep finally overcame. Days of routine, waking up, going to work, and coming home. He missed just being him and Rose. He missed those daily chores, taking out the rubbish, doing the dishes, putting off all the work in favor of a boring television show. He missed blandly reading the newspaper, tossing the news section in favor of the daily comics.
He missed it. All of it.
He missed Rose leaning over him, blonde hair obscuring his view. He missed holding her clammy hand when she was nervous. He missed brushing away her tears and smearing her mascara across her face. He missed them laughing together about it, his hand smudged with black goop. He missed begging her not to wear so much of it, to which she’d reply how awful she’d look. He missed replying like a proper gentleman should that she looked beautiful no matter what. It was a lie; he’s caught her early in the morning, no make-up, frizzed hair, and black circles tugging down her eyes, with a pair of oversized pajamas doing nothing to help. But he didn’t mind. Seeing her like that made her seem real; it was a reminder that she was just like him. It was a reminder that she wasn’t some effervescent angel that would come and go with a whim. It was a reminder that she wasn’t going to disappear.
But she did.
And whenever he saw her after that, it was never early morning pajamas; it was lip gloss and mascara. It was quickly straightened hair. It was a beaming smile that wasn’t for him.
He knew in a moment that he lost her to the crazy alien in the leather jacket. He knew that she had been captured and he had lost.
But he never stopped hoping. He’d take her bait because he knew that she was worth it. He’d feed on whatever scraps he could garnish, whatever scraps were tossed. He’d smell her hair and tug her tight. Overtime, he realized that her hair lost the fresh shampoo scent and turned into a dry and brittle type of smell, like an old curling iron left on too long. Tightened hugs grew slack and even friendly smiles seemed forced. Sometimes she didn’t want to look at him. Sometimes, he was glad for it. Other times, he didn’t want to look at her because he knew, he knew, that the beaming smile was reserved for only the Doctor. He didn’t want to see that again. Didn’t want to see how she could love the Doctor and not himself. He didn’t want to see because the signs were so obvious, the differences like blue and orange, a blight against his good reputation.
Mickey always hoped, wished, fantasized that it was more of a hero-worship crush, but it wasn’t. He knew the day that she shot off from her plate of fish and chips that it wasn’t. He knew when she insisted that opening the heart of the TARDIS would save everything. She bet it all and Mickey could see the franticness in her eyes, hear her ragged breathing, and feel her energy focused on helping the Doctor. Her Doctor.
It was then that Mickey Smith knew. It was then Mickey Smith knew he’d do anything to keep Rose happy. He didn’t trust the Doctor to keep her forever, didn’t trust him not to abandon her, so Mickey waited. He came running every time he heard the TARDIS landing. He waited to see if Rose would be left by the wayside. He’d sigh every time that she left.
At one point, he finally did something with his life, but even then, even in the parallel universe Rose’s smile was still on hold. It was never for him. Not anymore. Part of him grinned with a sadistic sort of pleasure knowing that Rose would never smile for anyone else. At least he could remember that the smile had been for him once. That part of him still grins knowing that he had been good enough (“More than good enough,” she said once) before the Doctor. Then he remembers that no one was good enough after the Doctor. No one. Not until the human Doctor showed up. Although, a small thought had niggled his brain; the thought that Rose may not be happy with the human Doctor. Then he remembered that if Rose wasn’t happy with the human Doctor it would because she wanted her precious alien back. Either way, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t doing that again. He refused.
He got away.
A lot of walking away (he couldn’t run, he just couldn’t).
A little bit (well, a lot) of alien technology.
A lot of scientific explanation (he doesn’t have the heart to detail it all out).
In the end, he ends up back on Earth in his universe, his own universe. More technology and a scientific explanation, he seals the hole back up. He knows he shouldn’t have done it. He knows that it was dangerous and wrong, but he’s fairly certain that one little patched-up hole in the giant universe couldn’t be that bad. But then again, Mickey is good at fantasizing; he’s been doing it for the past four years. But right now, he wants a new fantasy and that’s when he sees a certain Martha Jones.
She’s angry, yelling at some man in the street. She throws something small at him and it sparks in Mickey’s eye. “You just can’t understand!” she yells and Mickey’s fairly certain that he would understand.
“No, I can’t!” the man yells back. And he looks so confused, like he wants to go after her but unsure of what he’s going after. In a moment, Mickey can identify with the both of them as if they were a set of confused kindred souls. Martha walks away. The man picks the object up and watches Martha retreat. Mickey goes to comfort Martha. He could understand and they both needed someone to understand.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I thought you would understand,” Martha says.
“Understand what?” Tom asks.
Martha stays silent. How is she supposed to tell him about a year that never actually happened? She could start off with traveling through space and time in a blue call box. Yeah, that would go over well.
Tom sighs and turns away.
Nights with Tom are now stiff and uncomfortable. The television is constantly on with the character voices summing up the majority of the conversation. Dinners were taken separately even when they were together at the same time.
Tom makes such an effort. She should love him for it.
The ring weighs heavily on her hand.
“Mummy, when I get married, I’m going to get a BIG shiny diamond!”
She doesn’t love him. Not Tom.
He doesn’t understand. She hates that.
She could’ve loved a different Tom. A Tom hardened by the Year That Never Was. A Tom that still tried to see hope even in the most horrible of situations. This Tom had never been touched. He was already full of hope. He was loving and kind. He spent his days working with adorable children.
Maybe it’s because every time she sees a child she thinks of the Toclafane.
“The skies are made of diamonds!”
“There were no diamonds.”
She stares at the diamond ring. She wants to tear it off.
“Martha, don’t you let this doctor get away,” her mother had said.
“No worries,” she replied.
She was going to disappoint her mum again.
Before she goes to sleep, Martha remembers Shakespeare.
Next thing she knows, she’s throwing the ring at Tom. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a familiar face. She can tell that he understands and they walk away together.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mickey tells Martha how he made it back, detailing it as best he could. “Wibbly-wobbley timey wimey,” Martha says with a far off-stare, consumed in an old memory.
Mickey just looks at her incredulously.
“Well, maybe not,” Martha says, twisting her lips doubtfully. “Definitely not.”
If she had been Rose, Mickey would’ve made a joke about parallel universes and instability. But this was Martha. For now, he could only see a woman he barely knew.
Martha asks Mickey if he has anywhere to stay. Mickey says no and Martha invites him in.
He agrees.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“He thought I only liked him because he was a doctor,” Martha admits sheepishly one night.
“Well, at least you didn’t get caught saying the wrong name. I mean, Rose and Tanya are very different names.”
Neither knew whether they should laugh or pity themselves.
They did neither and they did both. A lot of one, a little of the other.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“He slept in the same bed and only thought of Rose.”
“She left me in the middle of Cardiff’s earthquake.”
Martha thinks she might want to hear more of that story, but looking at Mickey, she knows not to press it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“He took me to the same planet he brought her.”
“She gave me the same look she gave every other ordinary guy.”
They commiserate in silence.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I wanted to be with him. Just once. Just to see.”
“I wanted to be with her forever.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first night is awkward and clumsy. Spots left untouched. Wrong spots touched. They couldn’t look each other in the eye. Too rough. Too soft. A cry of pain from Martha being twisted the wrong way. Muttered apologies. A lot of apologies. And yet, as awkward and clumsy as it was, there was something fundamentally healing between the two of them.
Perhaps they were imagining the healing.
Perhaps it was just fantasy.
They don’t look at each other the next day. Or the next. On the third, Martha expresses disappointment at seeing Mickey look for apartments in the paper.
Mickey says that he’ll find one soon.
She says that that’s not what she meant.
On the fifth day, Martha comes home with blindfolds. She wonders if she’s taken the fantasy aspect a little too far. But the blindfolds help. So does being quiet.
Fantasy is an amazing thing.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some days, Martha feels like a bitch. But she wanted it. She wanted to be a bitch, because for a second she could have what she wanted. She could have her night with the Doctor. A glorious part is that she has no idea how the Doctor would act during sex, so she makes Mickey do whatever she thinks the Doctor would do.
At first, she wondered how to fix the talking problem; she could see the Doctor talking nearly the whole time, then she remembered, this was her little bitch romance. She could order the Doctor to do whatever she wanted, and it was fascinating. She usually told Mickey to be quiet while she imagined the Doctor’s voice in her head.
Why Martha Jones, you are brilliant.
Beneath the blindfold she sees the Doctor’s loving eyes and sweet smiles. She’s seen him look at Rose, so she knows exactly what she’s looking for.
Oh ho, Martha!
Brilliant.
She always loved that word. Hearing it from his voice was phenomenal.
She knew it was only fair to let Mickey do the same thing. So they took turns. One night would be Martha’s, the next night would be Mickey’s. Soon it became easier. They added handcuffs, and sometimes, the blindfold would slip, and it wouldn’t ruin the whole night. Sometimes they forgot the blindfolds. Sometimes it was just the two of them. Who was who, they weren’t always sure.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some days they were together. Truly together.
Other days they were caught up in the past, wishing for the ones they couldn't have. Sometimes, during the day, he'd call her Rose, but she never complained. Sometimes she'd call him Doctor and he'd wince but stay silent.
It wasn't as if their life was silent. There was running. Lots of running. Lots of running from aliens, some banging into Jack, but at night, they both wondered and they both wanted. They wanted.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mickey's never been able to fully detach from Rose and Martha liked to experiment. She wanted her night with the Doctor, but the closest she ever got was a bed and a lonely night. Anybody else and she wouldn't have been able to be such a bitch, but she knew that Mickey understood, and sometimes that's all it takes.
Still, sometimes they were together, no blindfolds, no imagination, no fantasy. He was Mickey and she was Martha. One day, Mickey would be able to look at Rose while holding Martha’s hand. One day, Martha would be able to look at the Doctor while being with Mickey.
They’re not sure if they can completely de-fantasize their lives. Not sure of whom the other one is thinking of. But they can be the only two in the world who can love each other as two different people. But then again, they’ve become very good at connecting fantasy to reality.
Maybe their love is just a lie.
Problem is they don’t know who for.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Oh, look at Mr. Strongman struggling with a bit of groceries,” Martha teases.
“You’re just carrying all the light stuff,” Mickey shoots back.
Martha stops, one hand on her hip, the other holding the bag. “I’m sure I can carry both,” she says in her no-nonsense voice.
Mickey grins and takes Martha’s bag. He sets them down on the ground and wraps his arms around Martha.
“You sure now’s the best time?” she asks, eyebrow raised.
“It’s the perfect time,” Mickey reassures her right before leaning in even closer and kissing her.
A very familiar sound fills the air and the wind strengthens. Mickey and Martha are hesitant to part, their lips still half-together as they turn their heads to face the TARDIS. An excited old man pops out of the doors.
“That was wonderful, Doctor! AMAZING! I only wish Donna could’ve seen it.”
Mickey and Martha smile at each other. For the first time, it doesn’t hurt. For either of them.
The Doctor walks out of the TARDIS with long black hair and sort of a big nose. He’s regenerated. He looks surprised to see the two of them standing together in such close proximity.
A small part of Mickey realizes that he’s hoping for Rose to come bounding out of the door and into his arms. But it’s a small part.
Martha still wishes she could’ve had at least a little romance between her and the Doctor, but looking at him now, she’s realized that time’s moved on. That she’s moved on. Her little bitch romance has turned into something healthier.
“Mickey and Martha!” the Doctor shouts. Apparently regenerating kept the same amount of boundless energy as the previous regeneration. “Together!”
The Doctor’s thrilled for them and it makes it all more real.
“Do you see that, Wilf? Mickey and Martha together! Street corner! Two in the morning!”
“But it’s not two in the morning,” Martha says hesitantly.
“That is an idea,” Mickey says and Martha smiles.
They smile together. This time someone’s said they’re really together. Mickey and Martha. Martha and Mickey.
But if Mickey slips and says Rose, Martha will understand.
If Martha says Doctor, Mickey will let it go.
But most of the time, they were Martha and Mickey.
They didn’t care if it was fantasy.
Author:Yasona Black
Rating:PG-13
Characters/Pairings:It's a bit muddled with some unrequited stuff, but Martha/Mickey
Spoilers: Nothing unless you haven't seen The Last of the Timelords.
Disclaimer:I do not own Doctor Who or any of it's characters.
Summary:“Neither knew whether they should laugh or pity themselves. They did neither and they did both. A lot of one, a little of the other.”
Author’s notes: This was created for the FPA challenge in interpreting the lyrics of a chosen song. Song: "Shores of California" by the Dresden Dolls. Lyrics: "All she really wants is that stupid little bitch romance." I connected it with a pairing prompt I found that said,'Mickey Smith/Martha Jones/Fantasy' I'm new to this community so I hope I'm doing everything alright. I really appreciate constructive criticism and feedback.
“Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey,” Martha said once with a far-off stare, consumed by an old memory. Mickey had given her an incredulous look for it. Martha twisted her lips doubtfully.
They may not have always recognized each other, but they both knew that all they were doing was pure fantasy.
After all, Mickey had been dying to go back home after Rose and the human Doctor had been united. There was little future with Rose and Mickey knew that, but he was only human, much to his disappointment, and some days Mickey wanted the past back. Days of old when aliens and spaceships seemed nothing more than hoaxes, when monsters and nightmares didn’t stand at the edge of the bed waiting to leap the moment sleep finally overcame. Days of routine, waking up, going to work, and coming home. He missed just being him and Rose. He missed those daily chores, taking out the rubbish, doing the dishes, putting off all the work in favor of a boring television show. He missed blandly reading the newspaper, tossing the news section in favor of the daily comics.
He missed it. All of it.
He missed Rose leaning over him, blonde hair obscuring his view. He missed holding her clammy hand when she was nervous. He missed brushing away her tears and smearing her mascara across her face. He missed them laughing together about it, his hand smudged with black goop. He missed begging her not to wear so much of it, to which she’d reply how awful she’d look. He missed replying like a proper gentleman should that she looked beautiful no matter what. It was a lie; he’s caught her early in the morning, no make-up, frizzed hair, and black circles tugging down her eyes, with a pair of oversized pajamas doing nothing to help. But he didn’t mind. Seeing her like that made her seem real; it was a reminder that she was just like him. It was a reminder that she wasn’t some effervescent angel that would come and go with a whim. It was a reminder that she wasn’t going to disappear.
But she did.
And whenever he saw her after that, it was never early morning pajamas; it was lip gloss and mascara. It was quickly straightened hair. It was a beaming smile that wasn’t for him.
He knew in a moment that he lost her to the crazy alien in the leather jacket. He knew that she had been captured and he had lost.
But he never stopped hoping. He’d take her bait because he knew that she was worth it. He’d feed on whatever scraps he could garnish, whatever scraps were tossed. He’d smell her hair and tug her tight. Overtime, he realized that her hair lost the fresh shampoo scent and turned into a dry and brittle type of smell, like an old curling iron left on too long. Tightened hugs grew slack and even friendly smiles seemed forced. Sometimes she didn’t want to look at him. Sometimes, he was glad for it. Other times, he didn’t want to look at her because he knew, he knew, that the beaming smile was reserved for only the Doctor. He didn’t want to see that again. Didn’t want to see how she could love the Doctor and not himself. He didn’t want to see because the signs were so obvious, the differences like blue and orange, a blight against his good reputation.
Mickey always hoped, wished, fantasized that it was more of a hero-worship crush, but it wasn’t. He knew the day that she shot off from her plate of fish and chips that it wasn’t. He knew when she insisted that opening the heart of the TARDIS would save everything. She bet it all and Mickey could see the franticness in her eyes, hear her ragged breathing, and feel her energy focused on helping the Doctor. Her Doctor.
It was then that Mickey Smith knew. It was then Mickey Smith knew he’d do anything to keep Rose happy. He didn’t trust the Doctor to keep her forever, didn’t trust him not to abandon her, so Mickey waited. He came running every time he heard the TARDIS landing. He waited to see if Rose would be left by the wayside. He’d sigh every time that she left.
At one point, he finally did something with his life, but even then, even in the parallel universe Rose’s smile was still on hold. It was never for him. Not anymore. Part of him grinned with a sadistic sort of pleasure knowing that Rose would never smile for anyone else. At least he could remember that the smile had been for him once. That part of him still grins knowing that he had been good enough (“More than good enough,” she said once) before the Doctor. Then he remembers that no one was good enough after the Doctor. No one. Not until the human Doctor showed up. Although, a small thought had niggled his brain; the thought that Rose may not be happy with the human Doctor. Then he remembered that if Rose wasn’t happy with the human Doctor it would because she wanted her precious alien back. Either way, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t doing that again. He refused.
He got away.
A lot of walking away (he couldn’t run, he just couldn’t).
A little bit (well, a lot) of alien technology.
A lot of scientific explanation (he doesn’t have the heart to detail it all out).
In the end, he ends up back on Earth in his universe, his own universe. More technology and a scientific explanation, he seals the hole back up. He knows he shouldn’t have done it. He knows that it was dangerous and wrong, but he’s fairly certain that one little patched-up hole in the giant universe couldn’t be that bad. But then again, Mickey is good at fantasizing; he’s been doing it for the past four years. But right now, he wants a new fantasy and that’s when he sees a certain Martha Jones.
She’s angry, yelling at some man in the street. She throws something small at him and it sparks in Mickey’s eye. “You just can’t understand!” she yells and Mickey’s fairly certain that he would understand.
“No, I can’t!” the man yells back. And he looks so confused, like he wants to go after her but unsure of what he’s going after. In a moment, Mickey can identify with the both of them as if they were a set of confused kindred souls. Martha walks away. The man picks the object up and watches Martha retreat. Mickey goes to comfort Martha. He could understand and they both needed someone to understand.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I thought you would understand,” Martha says.
“Understand what?” Tom asks.
Martha stays silent. How is she supposed to tell him about a year that never actually happened? She could start off with traveling through space and time in a blue call box. Yeah, that would go over well.
Tom sighs and turns away.
Nights with Tom are now stiff and uncomfortable. The television is constantly on with the character voices summing up the majority of the conversation. Dinners were taken separately even when they were together at the same time.
Tom makes such an effort. She should love him for it.
The ring weighs heavily on her hand.
“Mummy, when I get married, I’m going to get a BIG shiny diamond!”
She doesn’t love him. Not Tom.
He doesn’t understand. She hates that.
She could’ve loved a different Tom. A Tom hardened by the Year That Never Was. A Tom that still tried to see hope even in the most horrible of situations. This Tom had never been touched. He was already full of hope. He was loving and kind. He spent his days working with adorable children.
Maybe it’s because every time she sees a child she thinks of the Toclafane.
“The skies are made of diamonds!”
“There were no diamonds.”
She stares at the diamond ring. She wants to tear it off.
“Martha, don’t you let this doctor get away,” her mother had said.
“No worries,” she replied.
She was going to disappoint her mum again.
Before she goes to sleep, Martha remembers Shakespeare.
Next thing she knows, she’s throwing the ring at Tom. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a familiar face. She can tell that he understands and they walk away together.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mickey tells Martha how he made it back, detailing it as best he could. “Wibbly-wobbley timey wimey,” Martha says with a far off-stare, consumed in an old memory.
Mickey just looks at her incredulously.
“Well, maybe not,” Martha says, twisting her lips doubtfully. “Definitely not.”
If she had been Rose, Mickey would’ve made a joke about parallel universes and instability. But this was Martha. For now, he could only see a woman he barely knew.
Martha asks Mickey if he has anywhere to stay. Mickey says no and Martha invites him in.
He agrees.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“He thought I only liked him because he was a doctor,” Martha admits sheepishly one night.
“Well, at least you didn’t get caught saying the wrong name. I mean, Rose and Tanya are very different names.”
Neither knew whether they should laugh or pity themselves.
They did neither and they did both. A lot of one, a little of the other.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“He slept in the same bed and only thought of Rose.”
“She left me in the middle of Cardiff’s earthquake.”
Martha thinks she might want to hear more of that story, but looking at Mickey, she knows not to press it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“He took me to the same planet he brought her.”
“She gave me the same look she gave every other ordinary guy.”
They commiserate in silence.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I wanted to be with him. Just once. Just to see.”
“I wanted to be with her forever.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first night is awkward and clumsy. Spots left untouched. Wrong spots touched. They couldn’t look each other in the eye. Too rough. Too soft. A cry of pain from Martha being twisted the wrong way. Muttered apologies. A lot of apologies. And yet, as awkward and clumsy as it was, there was something fundamentally healing between the two of them.
Perhaps they were imagining the healing.
Perhaps it was just fantasy.
They don’t look at each other the next day. Or the next. On the third, Martha expresses disappointment at seeing Mickey look for apartments in the paper.
Mickey says that he’ll find one soon.
She says that that’s not what she meant.
On the fifth day, Martha comes home with blindfolds. She wonders if she’s taken the fantasy aspect a little too far. But the blindfolds help. So does being quiet.
Fantasy is an amazing thing.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some days, Martha feels like a bitch. But she wanted it. She wanted to be a bitch, because for a second she could have what she wanted. She could have her night with the Doctor. A glorious part is that she has no idea how the Doctor would act during sex, so she makes Mickey do whatever she thinks the Doctor would do.
At first, she wondered how to fix the talking problem; she could see the Doctor talking nearly the whole time, then she remembered, this was her little bitch romance. She could order the Doctor to do whatever she wanted, and it was fascinating. She usually told Mickey to be quiet while she imagined the Doctor’s voice in her head.
Why Martha Jones, you are brilliant.
Beneath the blindfold she sees the Doctor’s loving eyes and sweet smiles. She’s seen him look at Rose, so she knows exactly what she’s looking for.
Oh ho, Martha!
Brilliant.
She always loved that word. Hearing it from his voice was phenomenal.
She knew it was only fair to let Mickey do the same thing. So they took turns. One night would be Martha’s, the next night would be Mickey’s. Soon it became easier. They added handcuffs, and sometimes, the blindfold would slip, and it wouldn’t ruin the whole night. Sometimes they forgot the blindfolds. Sometimes it was just the two of them. Who was who, they weren’t always sure.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some days they were together. Truly together.
Other days they were caught up in the past, wishing for the ones they couldn't have. Sometimes, during the day, he'd call her Rose, but she never complained. Sometimes she'd call him Doctor and he'd wince but stay silent.
It wasn't as if their life was silent. There was running. Lots of running. Lots of running from aliens, some banging into Jack, but at night, they both wondered and they both wanted. They wanted.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mickey's never been able to fully detach from Rose and Martha liked to experiment. She wanted her night with the Doctor, but the closest she ever got was a bed and a lonely night. Anybody else and she wouldn't have been able to be such a bitch, but she knew that Mickey understood, and sometimes that's all it takes.
Still, sometimes they were together, no blindfolds, no imagination, no fantasy. He was Mickey and she was Martha. One day, Mickey would be able to look at Rose while holding Martha’s hand. One day, Martha would be able to look at the Doctor while being with Mickey.
They’re not sure if they can completely de-fantasize their lives. Not sure of whom the other one is thinking of. But they can be the only two in the world who can love each other as two different people. But then again, they’ve become very good at connecting fantasy to reality.
Maybe their love is just a lie.
Problem is they don’t know who for.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Oh, look at Mr. Strongman struggling with a bit of groceries,” Martha teases.
“You’re just carrying all the light stuff,” Mickey shoots back.
Martha stops, one hand on her hip, the other holding the bag. “I’m sure I can carry both,” she says in her no-nonsense voice.
Mickey grins and takes Martha’s bag. He sets them down on the ground and wraps his arms around Martha.
“You sure now’s the best time?” she asks, eyebrow raised.
“It’s the perfect time,” Mickey reassures her right before leaning in even closer and kissing her.
A very familiar sound fills the air and the wind strengthens. Mickey and Martha are hesitant to part, their lips still half-together as they turn their heads to face the TARDIS. An excited old man pops out of the doors.
“That was wonderful, Doctor! AMAZING! I only wish Donna could’ve seen it.”
Mickey and Martha smile at each other. For the first time, it doesn’t hurt. For either of them.
The Doctor walks out of the TARDIS with long black hair and sort of a big nose. He’s regenerated. He looks surprised to see the two of them standing together in such close proximity.
A small part of Mickey realizes that he’s hoping for Rose to come bounding out of the door and into his arms. But it’s a small part.
Martha still wishes she could’ve had at least a little romance between her and the Doctor, but looking at him now, she’s realized that time’s moved on. That she’s moved on. Her little bitch romance has turned into something healthier.
“Mickey and Martha!” the Doctor shouts. Apparently regenerating kept the same amount of boundless energy as the previous regeneration. “Together!”
The Doctor’s thrilled for them and it makes it all more real.
“Do you see that, Wilf? Mickey and Martha together! Street corner! Two in the morning!”
“But it’s not two in the morning,” Martha says hesitantly.
“That is an idea,” Mickey says and Martha smiles.
They smile together. This time someone’s said they’re really together. Mickey and Martha. Martha and Mickey.
But if Mickey slips and says Rose, Martha will understand.
If Martha says Doctor, Mickey will let it go.
But most of the time, they were Martha and Mickey.
They didn’t care if it was fantasy.