In Time. Martha the First!
This was my first fanfiction I wrote that was angsty that involved Martha. One part is actually even in her POV! Wow! Imagine that! This is what happens when I think too much the wrong way.
Because I really have way too many thoughts on Gallifrey since it was destroyed...and a billion ideas. This is just one of them. First time it has been posted anywhere. Please don't hurt me. *hides*
Disclaimer: The BBC owns it all. Not me.
Notes: Because I just couldn’t help it. I really, really couldn’t. What is it with me and writing emotional stuff like this? It always seems so out of character. Ah well. This is my obligatory Gridlock fic. My first real go at writing Martha Jones.
In Time
Martha could see the pain the conversation had dredged up in the Doctor’s eyes. He tried to hide it behind smiles and his normal sense of wit, but it was so plainly obvious that by the time he had drifted off, either finished with his tale or simply unable to continue on, she was crying.
Yet he was not.
Typical pig-headed male behaviour, that.
The silence had been welcome to the both of them, and they stayed there in that New New York alley, sitting on their uncomfortable chairs, until she had calmed down.
Sometimes the Doctor was so...backwards.
He had been pretending it didn’t happen, since it happened. That was quite a while ago she was guessing. He had offhandedly again mentioned Rose, how she had been told of the War, but he had still gone on pretending. Had it just been a mention of the War, of his planet being destroyed? Was she, Martha Jones, doctor in training, the first person he had been able to tell these things to? Why her?
It wasn’t denial, it was just his way of continuing on, and she had just made him push down those walls and relive it.
All she wished he would do in those moments he was telling her was to let those tears that were just waiting behind his eyes to fall, but he refused.
No one should have to go through the pain he was, especially if it was self inflicted, yet here he was, refusing to let go.
Typical bloody male!
They made the short walk back to the TARDIS still in silence, and as soon as the doors to the ship were closed, he had taken her to a door on the other side and let her in there to show her the rest of the ship.
It had truly and utterly astounded her how big it was. Absolutely massive. And the Doctor had told her that they would find her a bedroom she could use for the night. How he could actually tell what the time was still baffled her, but he said that by her internal clock it was bed time.
As the adrenaline rush begun to wear off, the same adrenaline which had been fuelling her since the day before (had it really been almost 48 hours since she last truly slept?) she knew that even if it was the middle of the day, she would be able to sleep anywhere.
She had found a room to her liking, one near the kitchen she found out later, and looked longingly at the bed in there. It was almost just like her room at her flat. It was comforting to see, like a little piece of home in the madness of everything she had been through.
She had felt homesick while in that car, especially when everyone began singing. She had even joined in, and found herself crying there in the highway mess.
And that was while her planet still existed, the Doctor’s didn’t, something about being outside time, or maybe it was inside time, and so no matter how far back he went, it would still be nothing but rocks and dust. She still had no idea how that worked exactly. How could he possibly still be alive and with his memories of the place intact if it worked that way?
How did he stand it? How did one go on knowing that there was no home left to go to?
No wonder he had pretended it was still there...
She took off her clothes, climbed into the bed and soon was asleep. She could think all she wanted on the Doctor when she woke up.
* * * * * * * * * *
Emotionally drained, tired beyond anything he had felt since the destruction of Gallifrey itself, the Doctor made his way to his own room after Martha had chosen one for herself. He needed a few hours rest himself, to get himself into a more right state of mind again.
Damn her. He had wanted her to go on thinking that he was happy, that there was nothing wrong in his life, that he had family and home and a planet to return to, and then a few words out of The Face of Boe’s mind and she had him sitting down and pouring out any and all information he could cling to about his planet.
Martha Jones, a girl he barely knew, now had more knowledge about his home world than even Rose had got when she had still been with him.
Rose had always been so content to let him tell her things in his own time. And he had, when he felt the need to. Martha was completely different though. She shared traits with Rose yes, she was brave and strong and willing to help anyone in trouble, but she was more headstrong and a lot more stubborn.
She was used to being the patient one, the one in the middle making all the fights and anger of the others around her turn to nothing. The peace maker of her family. And he could tell that it was her niche, her place. It was where she fit in. She felt a need to make him at peace too it seemed.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen by talking.
He let himself fall onto his bed, fully clothed, not even bothering with getting under the covers and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep, but all he could see was burnt orange skies, twin suns, and mountain ranges that seemed to go on forever, all red grass and snow capped.
He spent an hour staring at his ceiling, failing miserably to fall asleep and the ache in his chest deepened to something that was making him so uncomfortable he didn’t know how to deal with it.
It wasn’t the grief that was bothering him right now, even though that was sharp enough to cause a lot of pain. No, it was the complete and utter feeling of homesickness that the talk had made him feel.
And it hit him. Hard. The only way he would find sleep and to finally get a bit of rest from the exhausting day was to see home. He needed to see it. The physical need to go home was so strong that he had gotten up and made his way to the console room before he could stop himself.
There was no way he would be able to stand seeing nothing but the dust and rocks that Gallifrey had become, so he did the only thing he could think of to see what it had once been, to see home. He asked the TARDIS.
“Come on old girl, my wonderful ship, I need to see home. Just for a bit. I won’t hit you, I promise.”
The TARDIS had tried to show him memorial pictures of Gallifrey before, but he had hit her every time she tried. He could always tell when she was going to; she always made the oddest sound beforehand.
The sound she was making now. He patted her console lovingly, knowing that it was hard for her too. But she didn’t feel things like he did, though she did feel. The TARDIS had just been trying to help him over his own grief and loneliness by showing him beforehand.
He hadn’t been ready then. For some odd reason, he was now. He was ready to see what he had lost in more than just his mind.
He heard a small beep from the monitor which would show him the scenes he had had in his head since the talk. He hit the ground with a thud so he couldn’t see the monitor. He may be ready, but that didn’t mean all of him was.
He was terrified of that small screen and what it would be showing him.
Taking a long, deep breath, he slowly inched his way up, until his eyes were above the console and he could just see a blurry picture on the screen. He almost ducked back down, but knew that he wouldn’t get any peace until he properly looked at what he was currently missing so much.
He settled for standing back up, turning away from the monitor and glaring at the captain’s seat. He went over to the seat, sat down and bravely looked at the screen.
And he felt the ache become so much deeper within seconds. Home. Gallifrey. He looked to the doors of the TARDIS, ran to them and opened them before he had time to think. All that was out there was space and the distant swirling of colours that made up a galaxy. He couldn’t be bothered even thinking of which one. He let himself slide down to the grating which passed as floor on the TARDIS and closed his eyes.
He wanted to go home, he needed to go home. Now!
He had closed the doors and punched in the coordinates before common sense even managed to find itself a coherent place in his head. It didn’t matter anyway, the TARDIS refused to take him there.
“No, don’t do this to me now, come on you stupid machine, take me home! I don’t care what it looks like right now, take me there. I want to go home! Now! Take me home!”
He knew he had promised not to hit her, but he did anyway, his hands finding whatever part of her he could and not lightly either. The hammer he sometimes used would have done more damage than his hands but he just needed to hit something, anything to try and get rid of this...everything.
A pair of arms wrapped around his and jerked him away from the console; he landed on the lap of one Martha Jones. He couldn’t free his hands, so he spent all his time twisting in her grip, screaming out his need. His want, the one thing that at that moment consumed his entire being.
She didn’t loosen her grip once, not even when he went limp, all the fight draining out of him as fast as it had appeared. It had tightened that tiny little bit when his rage had turned to deep sadness and he wept, trying to bury his head so no one could see.
When he was himself again, leaning against the console, Martha sitting in front of him with her arms loosely wrapped around her knees, looking tired but oddly proud over something, he asked the TARDIS to turn it off for him. He got Martha to check, just in case the TARDIS was going to put him through that again.
“The photos are gone. They were beautiful. I’m sorry, I really am. I would really have loved to have seen it.”
He tried smiling at that, but failed. “Yeah. It was always a marvellous sight to see.” Too bad he never really appreciated it when it actually existed. How come it always took something to be gone before you realise how much it actually meant?
They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Martha squeezed his knee and said she was going to try and find her room again. This time he managed the smile. “Ask the TARDIS, she might take you right there. She might not. I kind of promised I wouldn’t lose my temper at her...”
“Never promise something like that if you know you are facing high emotions that are tricky enough as it is.”
Words of wisdom, those. He would remember that. “Thanks Martha. Really. That wasn’t only the first time I talked of it, but the first time I was able to actually look at it, even if it is just still shots on a screen. It meant a lot to me.”
She smiled at him again and nodded. “You should try for some sleep yourself. You never know what we might run into next. Or where, or when.” She laughed and her eyes lit with the same feverish light he had seen come to quite a lot of his companions. “Travelling with you, Doctor, is never dull, and you are so worth it.”
The smile he threw her way next was genuine, and he made his way to his feet, apologising to the TARDIS, making sure he did a once over on the controls to make sure nothing was broken too badly that they would need to make a stop somewhere for ‘spare parts’, and set off for his room.
He was now completely and utterly exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally. He really needed to rest.
He dreamt of home before the Time War had destroyed it for the first time since the War had taken place. He woke up aching, and crying, but he felt better for it.
Maybe now he would find the peace that Martha was trying to give him, even if it did mean he would get a bit more emotional than he would otherwise like at times.
Maybe now he could move on.
Because I really have way too many thoughts on Gallifrey since it was destroyed...and a billion ideas. This is just one of them. First time it has been posted anywhere. Please don't hurt me. *hides*
Disclaimer: The BBC owns it all. Not me.
Notes: Because I just couldn’t help it. I really, really couldn’t. What is it with me and writing emotional stuff like this? It always seems so out of character. Ah well. This is my obligatory Gridlock fic. My first real go at writing Martha Jones.
In Time
Martha could see the pain the conversation had dredged up in the Doctor’s eyes. He tried to hide it behind smiles and his normal sense of wit, but it was so plainly obvious that by the time he had drifted off, either finished with his tale or simply unable to continue on, she was crying.
Yet he was not.
Typical pig-headed male behaviour, that.
The silence had been welcome to the both of them, and they stayed there in that New New York alley, sitting on their uncomfortable chairs, until she had calmed down.
Sometimes the Doctor was so...backwards.
He had been pretending it didn’t happen, since it happened. That was quite a while ago she was guessing. He had offhandedly again mentioned Rose, how she had been told of the War, but he had still gone on pretending. Had it just been a mention of the War, of his planet being destroyed? Was she, Martha Jones, doctor in training, the first person he had been able to tell these things to? Why her?
It wasn’t denial, it was just his way of continuing on, and she had just made him push down those walls and relive it.
All she wished he would do in those moments he was telling her was to let those tears that were just waiting behind his eyes to fall, but he refused.
No one should have to go through the pain he was, especially if it was self inflicted, yet here he was, refusing to let go.
Typical bloody male!
They made the short walk back to the TARDIS still in silence, and as soon as the doors to the ship were closed, he had taken her to a door on the other side and let her in there to show her the rest of the ship.
It had truly and utterly astounded her how big it was. Absolutely massive. And the Doctor had told her that they would find her a bedroom she could use for the night. How he could actually tell what the time was still baffled her, but he said that by her internal clock it was bed time.
As the adrenaline rush begun to wear off, the same adrenaline which had been fuelling her since the day before (had it really been almost 48 hours since she last truly slept?) she knew that even if it was the middle of the day, she would be able to sleep anywhere.
She had found a room to her liking, one near the kitchen she found out later, and looked longingly at the bed in there. It was almost just like her room at her flat. It was comforting to see, like a little piece of home in the madness of everything she had been through.
She had felt homesick while in that car, especially when everyone began singing. She had even joined in, and found herself crying there in the highway mess.
And that was while her planet still existed, the Doctor’s didn’t, something about being outside time, or maybe it was inside time, and so no matter how far back he went, it would still be nothing but rocks and dust. She still had no idea how that worked exactly. How could he possibly still be alive and with his memories of the place intact if it worked that way?
How did he stand it? How did one go on knowing that there was no home left to go to?
No wonder he had pretended it was still there...
She took off her clothes, climbed into the bed and soon was asleep. She could think all she wanted on the Doctor when she woke up.
* * * * * * * * * *
Emotionally drained, tired beyond anything he had felt since the destruction of Gallifrey itself, the Doctor made his way to his own room after Martha had chosen one for herself. He needed a few hours rest himself, to get himself into a more right state of mind again.
Damn her. He had wanted her to go on thinking that he was happy, that there was nothing wrong in his life, that he had family and home and a planet to return to, and then a few words out of The Face of Boe’s mind and she had him sitting down and pouring out any and all information he could cling to about his planet.
Martha Jones, a girl he barely knew, now had more knowledge about his home world than even Rose had got when she had still been with him.
Rose had always been so content to let him tell her things in his own time. And he had, when he felt the need to. Martha was completely different though. She shared traits with Rose yes, she was brave and strong and willing to help anyone in trouble, but she was more headstrong and a lot more stubborn.
She was used to being the patient one, the one in the middle making all the fights and anger of the others around her turn to nothing. The peace maker of her family. And he could tell that it was her niche, her place. It was where she fit in. She felt a need to make him at peace too it seemed.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen by talking.
He let himself fall onto his bed, fully clothed, not even bothering with getting under the covers and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep, but all he could see was burnt orange skies, twin suns, and mountain ranges that seemed to go on forever, all red grass and snow capped.
He spent an hour staring at his ceiling, failing miserably to fall asleep and the ache in his chest deepened to something that was making him so uncomfortable he didn’t know how to deal with it.
It wasn’t the grief that was bothering him right now, even though that was sharp enough to cause a lot of pain. No, it was the complete and utter feeling of homesickness that the talk had made him feel.
And it hit him. Hard. The only way he would find sleep and to finally get a bit of rest from the exhausting day was to see home. He needed to see it. The physical need to go home was so strong that he had gotten up and made his way to the console room before he could stop himself.
There was no way he would be able to stand seeing nothing but the dust and rocks that Gallifrey had become, so he did the only thing he could think of to see what it had once been, to see home. He asked the TARDIS.
“Come on old girl, my wonderful ship, I need to see home. Just for a bit. I won’t hit you, I promise.”
The TARDIS had tried to show him memorial pictures of Gallifrey before, but he had hit her every time she tried. He could always tell when she was going to; she always made the oddest sound beforehand.
The sound she was making now. He patted her console lovingly, knowing that it was hard for her too. But she didn’t feel things like he did, though she did feel. The TARDIS had just been trying to help him over his own grief and loneliness by showing him beforehand.
He hadn’t been ready then. For some odd reason, he was now. He was ready to see what he had lost in more than just his mind.
He heard a small beep from the monitor which would show him the scenes he had had in his head since the talk. He hit the ground with a thud so he couldn’t see the monitor. He may be ready, but that didn’t mean all of him was.
He was terrified of that small screen and what it would be showing him.
Taking a long, deep breath, he slowly inched his way up, until his eyes were above the console and he could just see a blurry picture on the screen. He almost ducked back down, but knew that he wouldn’t get any peace until he properly looked at what he was currently missing so much.
He settled for standing back up, turning away from the monitor and glaring at the captain’s seat. He went over to the seat, sat down and bravely looked at the screen.
And he felt the ache become so much deeper within seconds. Home. Gallifrey. He looked to the doors of the TARDIS, ran to them and opened them before he had time to think. All that was out there was space and the distant swirling of colours that made up a galaxy. He couldn’t be bothered even thinking of which one. He let himself slide down to the grating which passed as floor on the TARDIS and closed his eyes.
He wanted to go home, he needed to go home. Now!
He had closed the doors and punched in the coordinates before common sense even managed to find itself a coherent place in his head. It didn’t matter anyway, the TARDIS refused to take him there.
“No, don’t do this to me now, come on you stupid machine, take me home! I don’t care what it looks like right now, take me there. I want to go home! Now! Take me home!”
He knew he had promised not to hit her, but he did anyway, his hands finding whatever part of her he could and not lightly either. The hammer he sometimes used would have done more damage than his hands but he just needed to hit something, anything to try and get rid of this...everything.
A pair of arms wrapped around his and jerked him away from the console; he landed on the lap of one Martha Jones. He couldn’t free his hands, so he spent all his time twisting in her grip, screaming out his need. His want, the one thing that at that moment consumed his entire being.
She didn’t loosen her grip once, not even when he went limp, all the fight draining out of him as fast as it had appeared. It had tightened that tiny little bit when his rage had turned to deep sadness and he wept, trying to bury his head so no one could see.
When he was himself again, leaning against the console, Martha sitting in front of him with her arms loosely wrapped around her knees, looking tired but oddly proud over something, he asked the TARDIS to turn it off for him. He got Martha to check, just in case the TARDIS was going to put him through that again.
“The photos are gone. They were beautiful. I’m sorry, I really am. I would really have loved to have seen it.”
He tried smiling at that, but failed. “Yeah. It was always a marvellous sight to see.” Too bad he never really appreciated it when it actually existed. How come it always took something to be gone before you realise how much it actually meant?
They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Martha squeezed his knee and said she was going to try and find her room again. This time he managed the smile. “Ask the TARDIS, she might take you right there. She might not. I kind of promised I wouldn’t lose my temper at her...”
“Never promise something like that if you know you are facing high emotions that are tricky enough as it is.”
Words of wisdom, those. He would remember that. “Thanks Martha. Really. That wasn’t only the first time I talked of it, but the first time I was able to actually look at it, even if it is just still shots on a screen. It meant a lot to me.”
She smiled at him again and nodded. “You should try for some sleep yourself. You never know what we might run into next. Or where, or when.” She laughed and her eyes lit with the same feverish light he had seen come to quite a lot of his companions. “Travelling with you, Doctor, is never dull, and you are so worth it.”
The smile he threw her way next was genuine, and he made his way to his feet, apologising to the TARDIS, making sure he did a once over on the controls to make sure nothing was broken too badly that they would need to make a stop somewhere for ‘spare parts’, and set off for his room.
He was now completely and utterly exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally. He really needed to rest.
He dreamt of home before the Time War had destroyed it for the first time since the War had taken place. He woke up aching, and crying, but he felt better for it.
Maybe now he would find the peace that Martha was trying to give him, even if it did mean he would get a bit more emotional than he would otherwise like at times.
Maybe now he could move on.