prompt response: theatrical_muse #305, write about something you have outlived
And all you have to do is move your little finger, move your little finger and you can change the world...
The gun is at Martha's feet; she fancies she can feel it radiating heat through the leather of her boots, just an inch or two away. She's somehow acutely aware of it in the back of her mind, even while she's hugging her mum and Tish. They seem thinner, more insubstantial, like they aren't all there anymore, and if the tears Martha's shedding are tears of rage, well, nobody's going to notice.
The Doctor's words echo in her head: 'You think I would ask her to kill?' She'd walked the entire Earth unarmed, trusting in blind faith to keep her safe; she knew where the true threat was. And now? Seeing her family again, knowing what's happened to everybody on Earth, knowing how many people have died to keep her safe...she's not so sure that pacifism is the solution. They deserve some sort of revenge, some sort of meaning to their sacrifice.
And letting the Master live? That doesn't seem right to Martha, no matter what the Doctor says. She knows it's because the Master's the only other Time Lord left, because they used to be friends - because the Doctor doesn't believe in killing people. But the Master's not a person to Martha, he's an inhuman monster, and she doesn't know why the Doctor can't see that. Maybe he wouldn't ask her to kill...but that doesn't mean she can't do it of her own volition.
In one quick movement, she stoops and picks up the gun, cocking the hammer. The Master hears the click and looks up - and smiles at her just as she fires two quick shots, one for each heart. Everybody else is stunned by the loud report of the gunshots echoing in the silence of the Valiant's bridge, and they all turn and look at Martha - except for the Doctor, who's bending over the Master, holding him to his chest and begging him to regenerate.
The gun clatters to the floor from Martha's numb fingers. She takes a step back from it, horrified by what she's done. She doesn't want to look around and see the inevitable looks of revulsion from everybody, but her eyes sting with tears anyway. Her mum gathers her into her arms, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words, though Martha knows she's just as close to the breaking point as she is.
She doesn't look at the Master again, tries to close her ears to the Doctor's pleading sobs, but she still hears the Master's last rattling breath. It's a noise that'll stay with her for the rest of her life. He's far from the first person she's seen die, but he's the only one who's ever died by her hands. She pulls back from her mum suddenly as her stomach clenches at the thought, scrambling to a corner.
Nobody looks at her as she vomits, nearly bent double. She feels invisible again, like she's still wearing the perception filter. Except now they're choosing not to see her, and that only makes her cry harder as she throws up again, mostly bile this time.
A warm, muscular arm encircles her shoulders and draws her up slowly, and Jack gives her a sympathetic smile, reaching out and wiping one tear from her cheek with a dirty finger. If anybody understands her, she thinks, it's got to be Jack. "C'mon," he says quietly. "They're taking us down in a UNIT helicopter." He frowns for a moment. "Hopefully we won't be treated to some of their famous hospitality - but the Doctor and I will make sure that doesn't happen. We'll get you and your family home, don't worry."
Right now, all Martha wants to do is sleep: a real, deep sleep, one like she hasn't had in a year. She just wants to hide from the rest of the world.
***
Before he leaves, Jack writes down a number on a piece of paper and presses it into her hand. "If you need anything at all," he tells her, "just call me." He flashes one of his dazzling smiles at her. "And if you need a job after you pass your exams, well, I'd be honoured to have you as part of my team, Martha Jones." He hugs her tightly one last time and kisses her on the cheek, and then he's bounding out the front door and to the TARDIS, greatcoat flapping as he runs.
Martha bites her lip as she looks at the TARDIS for a moment, then shuts the door. She's been planning on leaving anyway; her family needs her there, and she wants to resume a normal life. But it seems as if she hasn't even been given the choice. She hasn't spoken to the Doctor since - he always seems to have something else to do when she's nearby, and, well, Martha can take a hint. She looks out the front window, and he's standing in front of the TARDIS, looking silent and solemn. Even at this distance, his gaze seems to cut into her, accusing and sorrowfu and disappointed all at the same time. She lifts her chin bravely and looks right back at him, and she can feel her heart breaking.
He looks away first, like she knew he would. She makes herself watch the TARDIS dematerialise, knowing that it's the last time she'll ever see it. Maybe someday, she'll be able to convince herself that it was some sort of bizarre dream; maybe she'll tell her kids about the man she met on the moon. But now all she can do is squash the pain down and tell herself it's all for the best - and maybe she'll even believe it.
Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Words: 950
Author's notes: The idea for this fic was suggested by starletfallen in the Six Impossible Things meme. If you can identify the lyrics at the beginning, you get a cookie.
The gun is at Martha's feet; she fancies she can feel it radiating heat through the leather of her boots, just an inch or two away. She's somehow acutely aware of it in the back of her mind, even while she's hugging her mum and Tish. They seem thinner, more insubstantial, like they aren't all there anymore, and if the tears Martha's shedding are tears of rage, well, nobody's going to notice.
The Doctor's words echo in her head: 'You think I would ask her to kill?' She'd walked the entire Earth unarmed, trusting in blind faith to keep her safe; she knew where the true threat was. And now? Seeing her family again, knowing what's happened to everybody on Earth, knowing how many people have died to keep her safe...she's not so sure that pacifism is the solution. They deserve some sort of revenge, some sort of meaning to their sacrifice.
And letting the Master live? That doesn't seem right to Martha, no matter what the Doctor says. She knows it's because the Master's the only other Time Lord left, because they used to be friends - because the Doctor doesn't believe in killing people. But the Master's not a person to Martha, he's an inhuman monster, and she doesn't know why the Doctor can't see that. Maybe he wouldn't ask her to kill...but that doesn't mean she can't do it of her own volition.
In one quick movement, she stoops and picks up the gun, cocking the hammer. The Master hears the click and looks up - and smiles at her just as she fires two quick shots, one for each heart. Everybody else is stunned by the loud report of the gunshots echoing in the silence of the Valiant's bridge, and they all turn and look at Martha - except for the Doctor, who's bending over the Master, holding him to his chest and begging him to regenerate.
The gun clatters to the floor from Martha's numb fingers. She takes a step back from it, horrified by what she's done. She doesn't want to look around and see the inevitable looks of revulsion from everybody, but her eyes sting with tears anyway. Her mum gathers her into her arms, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words, though Martha knows she's just as close to the breaking point as she is.
She doesn't look at the Master again, tries to close her ears to the Doctor's pleading sobs, but she still hears the Master's last rattling breath. It's a noise that'll stay with her for the rest of her life. He's far from the first person she's seen die, but he's the only one who's ever died by her hands. She pulls back from her mum suddenly as her stomach clenches at the thought, scrambling to a corner.
Nobody looks at her as she vomits, nearly bent double. She feels invisible again, like she's still wearing the perception filter. Except now they're choosing not to see her, and that only makes her cry harder as she throws up again, mostly bile this time.
A warm, muscular arm encircles her shoulders and draws her up slowly, and Jack gives her a sympathetic smile, reaching out and wiping one tear from her cheek with a dirty finger. If anybody understands her, she thinks, it's got to be Jack. "C'mon," he says quietly. "They're taking us down in a UNIT helicopter." He frowns for a moment. "Hopefully we won't be treated to some of their famous hospitality - but the Doctor and I will make sure that doesn't happen. We'll get you and your family home, don't worry."
Right now, all Martha wants to do is sleep: a real, deep sleep, one like she hasn't had in a year. She just wants to hide from the rest of the world.
***
Before he leaves, Jack writes down a number on a piece of paper and presses it into her hand. "If you need anything at all," he tells her, "just call me." He flashes one of his dazzling smiles at her. "And if you need a job after you pass your exams, well, I'd be honoured to have you as part of my team, Martha Jones." He hugs her tightly one last time and kisses her on the cheek, and then he's bounding out the front door and to the TARDIS, greatcoat flapping as he runs.
Martha bites her lip as she looks at the TARDIS for a moment, then shuts the door. She's been planning on leaving anyway; her family needs her there, and she wants to resume a normal life. But it seems as if she hasn't even been given the choice. She hasn't spoken to the Doctor since - he always seems to have something else to do when she's nearby, and, well, Martha can take a hint. She looks out the front window, and he's standing in front of the TARDIS, looking silent and solemn. Even at this distance, his gaze seems to cut into her, accusing and sorrowfu and disappointed all at the same time. She lifts her chin bravely and looks right back at him, and she can feel her heart breaking.
He looks away first, like she knew he would. She makes herself watch the TARDIS dematerialise, knowing that it's the last time she'll ever see it. Maybe someday, she'll be able to convince herself that it was some sort of bizarre dream; maybe she'll tell her kids about the man she met on the moon. But now all she can do is squash the pain down and tell herself it's all for the best - and maybe she'll even believe it.
Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Words: 950
Author's notes: The idea for this fic was suggested by starletfallen in the Six Impossible Things meme. If you can identify the lyrics at the beginning, you get a cookie.