Watchful
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/150484.html">Watchful by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Ten/Martha | Rating: G | Spoilers: Season 3)
Title: Watchful
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha
Rating: G
Spoilers: Season 3
Summary: There are some things that Martha remains unaware of regarding the Doctor.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Author Notes: In "The Poison Sky", Ten reveals that he knew Martha's clone wasn't the real Martha because of her "reduced iris contraction, slight thinning of the hair follicles on the left temple. And, [her] smell." Thereby proving that he had seen Martha even if she hadn't noticed him watching her. I was chatting to mischief89 about this and I came up with the idea for this candyfloss fic as a result.
This fic is for mischief89.
~~~~~~
It started after the business with the Judoon on the Moon. The Doctor had seen right away that Martha was exhausted, but ever so determined not to admit it, so he led her into the TARDIS corridors and found her a room where she could get some sleep while they were travelling to their destination.
After a while he thought he ought to check that she'd settled in okay, and after a light knocking at her door elicited no response, he carefully opened it a crack and stuck his head through. She was curled up in the middle of the big bed, her hair loose and spread around her head in a fan, a slight smile playing on her lips. He tiptoed across the room, leaving the door just slightly ajar and crouched down beside the bed, his eyes on hers the whole way. The TARDIS' hum took on a more purring note and he glanced up at the ceiling.
"Shh, don't wake her," he said softly. "I just wanted to check she's okay. She went through a lot for me today, saved my life, and saved half the Earth too." He noticed that a strand of hair was across her mouth and reached out carefully to lift it aside. "She's my hero," he told the TARDIS.
* * * * * *
"Come on, Miss Jones, you should be in bed," the Doctor told his companion after they left Elizabethan England. "You're barely staying upright."
"I'm okay," Martha said, even though it was true that she was quite tired; she was also exhilarated though, not least because Shakespeare had taken a fancy to her - the Bard himself! And okay, he had a wife and children, not to mention bad breath, but even so, it was William Shakespeare. That was a thought to warm her heart when she was a little old lady, even if she could never tell anyone.
He gave her a stern look. "Bed, young lady."
"Yes dad." She shuddered. "Oh, let's pretend you never heard me saying that!"
"Saying what?" he asked, giving her a faux-innocent look.
Martha laughed softly. "Thanks."
The Doctor offered her his elbow, just as he had when he'd invited her to go and watch Shakespeare, and she slipped her hand through his arm with a small smile, amused by the oddly formal gesture.
He led the way to her room and Martha opened the door. "Do you want a drink before you go to bed?" he asked.
"Could I have a hot chocolate?" she asked tentatively.
"If that's what you want. You get into your pyjamas, and I'll go and rustle up a mug for you."
"Thank you."
Ten minutes later Martha was sitting with her knees bent up and her back against the wall behind her bed, finishing her mug of hot chocolate while the Doctor read her some of Shakespeare's sonnets, the ones he thought she'd inspired the Bard to write.
He was watching her covertly as he read, thinking how lovely she looked, even in pyjamas (which he considered to be quite a feat); the nightwear in question had been supplied by the TARDIS on her first night, and were deep blue with silver stars and moons on them. She also - though he wouldn't dream of telling her so, for fear of wounding her dignity - looked cute in them.
Martha finished up her hot chocolate and set the mug aside. "Okay?" he asked.
"Yes, thanks." She shifted around until she was lying on her side.
He closed the book, pocketed his glasses, and stood up. "Sleep well, then."
"Thanks, and you too."
The Doctor managed to resist the urge to kiss her forehead, contenting himself with a quick squeeze of her arm before he went out. He took the volume of Shakespeare's Sonnets back to the library and settled down to read them again. A couple of hours later, he went to make himself a cup of tea and remembered he'd left Martha's mug in her room, so he turned around and went back to her room to collect it.
He crept across the room and picked up her mug, glancing down at her face. She looked so peaceful and relaxed that after a moment he settled down on the floor beside her, sitting cross-legged to watch her sleep. He didn't sleep much himself, but he found it soothing to watch Martha sleeping: the sound of her steady breathing, mixed with the quiet hum of the TARDIS, was as effective as a meditative trance in calming his busy brain.
He wondered, briefly, if she'd find it creepy to know that he liked to watch her sleeping, and resolved not to let her find out, knowing that the TARDIS would keep his secret for him, just as she kept so many of his other secrets.
* * * * * *
Martha sat listening to the Doctor for hours; the alley was damp and dank, and the chair on which she sat was uncomfortable, but she didn't complain, she simply listened with rapt attention, drinking in every word of the wonders and splendour of Gallifrey, his lost home. Darkness had fallen by the time that he finished and suggested they head back to the TARDIS, and she agreed with a smile, but he could see she was tired after all the emotion and tension of the day: being kidnapped by strangers on an alien planet was hardly a good first impression, but he had noticed that she had spoken kindly of Milo and Cheen, expressing hopefulness for their new start and their unborn baby. She reminded him of Harry Sullivan and Sarah Jane Smith rolled into one: she had Harry's calmness in a crisis, and his kindliness and compassion, but she had Sarah Jane's determination, adaptability, and ability to think quickly on her feet. Martha seemed to take so much in her stride, hardly batting an eyelid at Rhino-headed aliens, witches, cat-people, or indeed the giant head in a jar known as the Face of Boe. He felt certain she'd make an excellent doctor one day.
He unlocked the TARDIS door and ushered her inside. "Miss Jones, I recommend a hot bath or shower, and a hot drink before bed."
"Is that your prescription, Doctor?" she asked, a smile teasing her mouth as she glanced up at him.
"It is," he agreed, smiling back at her before throwing his coat over the coral strut near the door. "You don't want to catch a chill after sitting out in that damp alley for so long."
"Well I concur with your prescription, Mr Smith." She grinned at him as she used his alias, as if asserting her greater authority, and he couldn't help matching her grin.
"Cheeky," he said. "Go and get some rest." He stopped by the console, his fingertips resting on the edge.
"A shower sounds like a good idea," she agreed.
"Go on then. I'll get the TARDIS away, and then I'll make you some hot chocolate."
"Thanks." She stepped in close and slid her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. "Thank you for telling me about Gallifrey," she said quietly, then slipped away before he could even hug her back.
He shook his head, then got the TARDIS into the Vortex, before heading to the kitchen. He made himself a cup of tea and drank that first, not wanting her drink to get cold while she was in the shower.
When he knocked on Martha's door, she called out sleepily. "Come in."
He went inside and found her already curled up in bed. "Okay?" he asked.
"Yeah." She sat up and accepted the mug from him. "You should go and have a bath or shower yourself," she said. "I don't fancy having a sick Time Lord on my hands."
"I've got a superior immune system," he told her.
She quirked an eyebrow at him, curiosity flaring in her dark eyes, and he wondered if she was going to subject him to a barrage of questions about his physiology.
"Well if you catch a chill, don't come crying to me," she said, smirking at him.
"You're cheeky, you are," he said. She chuckled, and he sighed dramatically. "Okay, I'll go and have a shower, Dr Jones."
"Not a doctor, not yet," she answered.
"I know, but you will be," he said confidently. "Anyway, I will follow your advice, Dr Jones, and have a shower. Sleep well."
"You too. See you tomorrow."
He nodded, knowing that he'd be back in an hour.
* * * * * *
And so it went on. The first time he didn't feel any guilt about sneaking into Martha's room to watch her sleeping was after the business with the living sun: that night she had a nightmare, and cried out his name in voice filled with fear.
"Shh Martha. It's okay, I'm here. I've got you." He switched on her bedside light as he spoke, then shook her awake, and she immediately sat up and wrapped her arms around him, gasping.
"I thought I was going to die," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.
"I know. But you're okay, you're here now, safe in the TARDIS."
He could feel her trembling and began rubbing her back, trying to comfort her. She felt tiny in his arms, her head tucked under his chin and her hands clutching the back of his jacket tightly.
After a while her trembling ceased and she relaxed her death grip on his clothes.
"Why don't you lie down again and I'll hum you a lullaby?" he suggested softly.
"Okay." She lay down and looked up at him, her eyes still dark with fear, and he took her hands in his as he began to hum the lullaby his mother used to sing to him when he was just a small boy.
Gradually Martha's eyes closed and her breathing become deeper. He stopped humming and started to move off the bed, gently pulling his hands free of hers.
She opened her eyes again. "Don't go, please."
He only hesitated for a moment, before he pulled off his Converse, slipped off his jacket and removed his tie. Then he lay down on the bed, allowing her to snuggle up against him.
"Thank you," she murmured, then she fell asleep again.
* * * * * *
After the Doctor had said goodbye to Tim Latimer, he went into his ship, where he found the Control Room empty. Quickly he moved the TARDIS into the Vortex, then went in search of his companion.
He was slightly surprised to find that she wasn't in the kitchen, so he back-tracked to her room and knocked on her door. He waited some time before Martha opened it: she was dressed in her pyjamas with a towel wrapped around her head, turban-style.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked. "Tea? Hot chocolate? Something to eat?"
"No thank you."
He looked at her, wondering what was different about her, and then he suddenly realised: her manner was subservient, her eyes downcast as if he was still her master, and she nothing but his maid, and he knew he would have to do something to restore the equality between them. He stepped closer and put one hand on her shoulder, trying to ignore the way she flinched at his touch, and lifted her chin with his other hand.
"Martha Jones, you are no one's servant now, and you don't need to keep your head down. In fact, you should walk with your head carried high, because you have been absolutely brilliant the last couple of months."
"Thank you," she answered, still not looking him in the eye, and he wondered why. She had looked at him when they'd talked outside, before they'd said goodbye to Tim. And then he remembered what she'd said, that she hadn't really meant it about loving him to bits, and the way he'd accepted that, even though he'd known it wasn't true.
"Oh Martha Jones." He let go of her chin and wrapped both arms around her again. "I meant what I said," he told her. "You were brilliant. I know you had to put up with a lot of nastiness while you were keeping an eye on me, even from my human self, but you stayed strong and cheerful, and - "
"How would you know?" she asked, pulling away from him.
"What?" he asked, confused.
"How do you know I stayed cheerful?"
"Well you always had a smile for John Smith," he answered.
"Of course I did, I knew my place." She turned away and pulled the towel off her head, beginning to rub at her wet hair. "If you don't mind Doctor, I want to sleep now, I've had a very tiring two months."
He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck, knowing that things weren't right between them, and wondering desperately how to put them right, and if she'd want to be taken home after she had slept.
"Of course, sorry." He turned and went out, heading back to the Control Room.
What can I do for her, old girl? he asked. He sank down onto the Captain's chair and closed his eyes. A moment later he felt a telepathic prod from his ship, and when he concentrated he saw images of Martha visiting the ship during the two months they'd been in Farringham: Martha talking to his recorded list of messages; Martha making herself tea in the kitchen and talking aloud to the ship as she worried about how close he was getting to Joan and how hard that would make it to get him to stop being John Smith when the time came; Martha crying herself to sleep in her room as the TARDIS watched over her human companion.
By the time the stream of images had finished, he could feel tears pricking at the corners of his own eyes. "Oh Martha!" He really hadn't had any idea about how painful the last two months had been; she must have felt really lonely to have spent so much time talking to his ship, especially when he'd told her he was going to put the TARDIS onto "stand-by" power so the Family wouldn't notice it. Now, more than ever, he needed to find a way to put things right with Martha, to make up for what she'd been through while he'd been a human.
The Doctor had retired to the library and had been there for several hours when the TARDIS nudged him and indicated that Martha was having a nightmare; he hadn't gone to watch her sleep this time as he wouldn't have felt comfortable, knowing that she was unhappy with him at the moment.
He dropped his book onto the table by his elbow and raced out of the library and along the corridor to Martha's room, hearing her screams of "No Jenny! Please don't! Please Jenny!" as he got closer. He rushed into her room and across to her bed, snapping on the bedside light.
"Martha. Come on Martha, wake up. It's just a dream. Martha!" He shook her awake, and she cried out in fright, shoving against his chest before she was properly awake and knew who was there.
"It's okay, Martha, it's okay," he told her soothingly, capturing her hands in his.
"Who's there?" Her eyes were wide with panic and fear until she recognised who was holding her, then she half-sobbed his name and he sat down on the side of the bed and pulled her close enough to hold.
"Shh, shh. It's okay. You're safe now."
She clutched at his shirt, sobbing against his shoulder and he tried to calm her down, until eventually he began to hum his mother's lullaby to Martha as he rubbed gently at her back. After a while her sobs eased and he felt her beginning to relax a little.
"What were you dreaming?" he asked softly.
"About Jenny. She shot me and took me to the Family's spaceship. She locked me up and Baines started torturing me."
"Oh my poor girl." He kissed her hair, and then her forehead. "I'm so sorry your friend was taken by the Family."
"She was the only friend I had at the school."
"I am sorry." He wondered helplessly what he could do to help her. "What was she like? John Smith never really got a chance to know her."
Martha began to talk, hesitantly at first until she felt assured that he was really listening. After an hour, she was leaning against the Doctor almost limply and had begun yawning.
"Do you want to see if you can sleep again?" he asked.
"I suppose I should," she answered, sounding reluctant.
"Do you want me to stay with you?"
"Would that be okay?"
"Of course. I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't willing. Get yourself comfy and I'll be with you in a moment," he told her before going into Martha's bathroom.
When he returned he pulled off his tie, jacket and shoes, then joined Martha, encouraging her snuggle up close.
"I'm sorry I was so angry earlier," she said sleepily.
"Don't be. You had a hard time at that school, so you'd every right to be angry and upset."
"Yes but - " she began.
"No buts," he told her, kissing her hair. "Go to sleep now."
"G'night Doctor."
"Goodnight Martha."
* * * * * *
The Doctor often indulged his habit of watching Martha sleeping during their stay in 1969, but he hadn't realised just how soothing he found it until he spent a year trapped on board the Valiant with the Master while Martha walked her terrorised planet: he found he missed her as much as he missed his ship. However, she returned safely, and then she helped him and Jack to restore the TARDIS after the Master had turned her into a Paradox Machine. Martha's bond with the ship, which had only grown after their time at Farringham, proved invaluable in completing the repairs in a timely manner.
"I'm going to go to bed," Martha announced, after the three of them had spent several hours working on the ship.
"Want me to come and tuck you in?" asked Jack, grinning suggestively.
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "No thank you."
"Then I'll say goodnight," he said, crossing the room and wrapping her in a warm hug. "Sleep well sweetheart. And remember you're my hero."
She ducked her head, embarrassed. "Thanks."
Jack let go of her and returned to his work in the space underneath the grilled floor around the console.
"Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?" asked the Doctor as he also hugged Martha goodnight.
"No, that's okay, I know you want to get the repairs finished."
"I can spare five minutes to make you a drink," he assured her.
"No, but thank you." She stood up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then went off to her room.
Jack and the Doctor continued their work for a few hours, and then Jack decided to go and get some sandwiches for them both as they hadn't eaten for several hours. Although no time passed, as such, when they were hanging in the Vortex, they tried to sleep and to eat regular meals.
Jack was on his way back from the kitchen with a tray of food and two bottles of ice cold beer for them both when he spotted Martha's bedroom door was ajar. He was surprised that she had woken up again so soon, but when he drew level and glanced inside the room, he got a bigger surprise for there was the Doctor sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Martha's bed. He nudged the door open slightly further and, looking in, saw that she was fast asleep and the Doctor was watching her.
"Doc!" He called out to the Time Lord softly, and the Doctor's head shot up immediately, a flush rising in his cheeks. He quickly got up and crossed to the door, pulling it closed behind him.
"What were you doing?" asked Jack, puzzled.
"Watching Martha," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Why?"
"I was worried she might have a nightmare," he answered, but Jack noticed the Doctor wasn't meeting his eyes. He frowned, then set off towards the Control Room, not wanting to disturb Martha by talking outside her room.
He set the tray down on the Captain's chair, then turned to face the Time Lord, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I get the feeling there's more to this than you're telling me," he observed.
The Doctor rubbed his neck again, still refusing to meet Jack's eyes. "I was worried about her," he said. "She's been through so much for me, especially walking the Earth. And I know she occasionally suffers from nightmares."
"Surely the TARDIS would tell you if Martha was having a nightmare?" Jack asked.
"Yes she would."
"So why the guard dog act?" asked Jack, still puzzled.
The Doctor shrugged, looking a little helpless. "I find it soothing to watch her sleeping," he admitted finally.
The other man shook his head, plainly still puzzled by the Time Lord's actions.
"Don't tell Martha, please?"
Jack shrugged. "I won't, but I think she's got a right to know."
"I'll tell her myself, when we've finished repairing the TARDIS," the Doctor answered quickly.
Jack wondered whether he would, but he wisely didn't push the matter. There was a certain vulnerability about the Time Lord still, and he didn't want to make the Doctor feel cornered. Besides, he could understand why the Time Lord found it soothing to watch Martha sleeping, after all the horrors he'd been forced to watch under the Master's rule.
The Doctor felt relieved that Jack didn't ask him to make a specific promise to tell Martha that he'd been watching her sleep, because that way he wouldn't need to feel guilty about not telling her. He wasn't sure how she'd react and right now he didn't want to do anything to scare her; after the last year, he felt that he needed the stability of having Martha around - he just hoped he could find a way to thank her for what she'd done over the last year. As he ate the sandwiches Jack had made for them, he allowed his mind to drift, planning trips to various pleasure planets which he knew, and to see some of the famous medical people of the past - that was bound to appeal to the young doctor-to-be.
As he and Jack finished the repairs to the TARDIS, he continued to draw up an itinerary of places to go and people to see, smiling in satisfaction at the prospect of exploring more of the universe with Martha Jones at his side.
Title: Watchful
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha
Rating: G
Spoilers: Season 3
Summary: There are some things that Martha remains unaware of regarding the Doctor.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Author Notes: In "The Poison Sky", Ten reveals that he knew Martha's clone wasn't the real Martha because of her "reduced iris contraction, slight thinning of the hair follicles on the left temple. And, [her] smell." Thereby proving that he had seen Martha even if she hadn't noticed him watching her. I was chatting to mischief89 about this and I came up with the idea for this candyfloss fic as a result.
This fic is for mischief89.
~~~~~~
It started after the business with the Judoon on the Moon. The Doctor had seen right away that Martha was exhausted, but ever so determined not to admit it, so he led her into the TARDIS corridors and found her a room where she could get some sleep while they were travelling to their destination.
After a while he thought he ought to check that she'd settled in okay, and after a light knocking at her door elicited no response, he carefully opened it a crack and stuck his head through. She was curled up in the middle of the big bed, her hair loose and spread around her head in a fan, a slight smile playing on her lips. He tiptoed across the room, leaving the door just slightly ajar and crouched down beside the bed, his eyes on hers the whole way. The TARDIS' hum took on a more purring note and he glanced up at the ceiling.
"Shh, don't wake her," he said softly. "I just wanted to check she's okay. She went through a lot for me today, saved my life, and saved half the Earth too." He noticed that a strand of hair was across her mouth and reached out carefully to lift it aside. "She's my hero," he told the TARDIS.
* * * * * *
"Come on, Miss Jones, you should be in bed," the Doctor told his companion after they left Elizabethan England. "You're barely staying upright."
"I'm okay," Martha said, even though it was true that she was quite tired; she was also exhilarated though, not least because Shakespeare had taken a fancy to her - the Bard himself! And okay, he had a wife and children, not to mention bad breath, but even so, it was William Shakespeare. That was a thought to warm her heart when she was a little old lady, even if she could never tell anyone.
He gave her a stern look. "Bed, young lady."
"Yes dad." She shuddered. "Oh, let's pretend you never heard me saying that!"
"Saying what?" he asked, giving her a faux-innocent look.
Martha laughed softly. "Thanks."
The Doctor offered her his elbow, just as he had when he'd invited her to go and watch Shakespeare, and she slipped her hand through his arm with a small smile, amused by the oddly formal gesture.
He led the way to her room and Martha opened the door. "Do you want a drink before you go to bed?" he asked.
"Could I have a hot chocolate?" she asked tentatively.
"If that's what you want. You get into your pyjamas, and I'll go and rustle up a mug for you."
"Thank you."
Ten minutes later Martha was sitting with her knees bent up and her back against the wall behind her bed, finishing her mug of hot chocolate while the Doctor read her some of Shakespeare's sonnets, the ones he thought she'd inspired the Bard to write.
He was watching her covertly as he read, thinking how lovely she looked, even in pyjamas (which he considered to be quite a feat); the nightwear in question had been supplied by the TARDIS on her first night, and were deep blue with silver stars and moons on them. She also - though he wouldn't dream of telling her so, for fear of wounding her dignity - looked cute in them.
Martha finished up her hot chocolate and set the mug aside. "Okay?" he asked.
"Yes, thanks." She shifted around until she was lying on her side.
He closed the book, pocketed his glasses, and stood up. "Sleep well, then."
"Thanks, and you too."
The Doctor managed to resist the urge to kiss her forehead, contenting himself with a quick squeeze of her arm before he went out. He took the volume of Shakespeare's Sonnets back to the library and settled down to read them again. A couple of hours later, he went to make himself a cup of tea and remembered he'd left Martha's mug in her room, so he turned around and went back to her room to collect it.
He crept across the room and picked up her mug, glancing down at her face. She looked so peaceful and relaxed that after a moment he settled down on the floor beside her, sitting cross-legged to watch her sleep. He didn't sleep much himself, but he found it soothing to watch Martha sleeping: the sound of her steady breathing, mixed with the quiet hum of the TARDIS, was as effective as a meditative trance in calming his busy brain.
He wondered, briefly, if she'd find it creepy to know that he liked to watch her sleeping, and resolved not to let her find out, knowing that the TARDIS would keep his secret for him, just as she kept so many of his other secrets.
* * * * * *
Martha sat listening to the Doctor for hours; the alley was damp and dank, and the chair on which she sat was uncomfortable, but she didn't complain, she simply listened with rapt attention, drinking in every word of the wonders and splendour of Gallifrey, his lost home. Darkness had fallen by the time that he finished and suggested they head back to the TARDIS, and she agreed with a smile, but he could see she was tired after all the emotion and tension of the day: being kidnapped by strangers on an alien planet was hardly a good first impression, but he had noticed that she had spoken kindly of Milo and Cheen, expressing hopefulness for their new start and their unborn baby. She reminded him of Harry Sullivan and Sarah Jane Smith rolled into one: she had Harry's calmness in a crisis, and his kindliness and compassion, but she had Sarah Jane's determination, adaptability, and ability to think quickly on her feet. Martha seemed to take so much in her stride, hardly batting an eyelid at Rhino-headed aliens, witches, cat-people, or indeed the giant head in a jar known as the Face of Boe. He felt certain she'd make an excellent doctor one day.
He unlocked the TARDIS door and ushered her inside. "Miss Jones, I recommend a hot bath or shower, and a hot drink before bed."
"Is that your prescription, Doctor?" she asked, a smile teasing her mouth as she glanced up at him.
"It is," he agreed, smiling back at her before throwing his coat over the coral strut near the door. "You don't want to catch a chill after sitting out in that damp alley for so long."
"Well I concur with your prescription, Mr Smith." She grinned at him as she used his alias, as if asserting her greater authority, and he couldn't help matching her grin.
"Cheeky," he said. "Go and get some rest." He stopped by the console, his fingertips resting on the edge.
"A shower sounds like a good idea," she agreed.
"Go on then. I'll get the TARDIS away, and then I'll make you some hot chocolate."
"Thanks." She stepped in close and slid her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. "Thank you for telling me about Gallifrey," she said quietly, then slipped away before he could even hug her back.
He shook his head, then got the TARDIS into the Vortex, before heading to the kitchen. He made himself a cup of tea and drank that first, not wanting her drink to get cold while she was in the shower.
When he knocked on Martha's door, she called out sleepily. "Come in."
He went inside and found her already curled up in bed. "Okay?" he asked.
"Yeah." She sat up and accepted the mug from him. "You should go and have a bath or shower yourself," she said. "I don't fancy having a sick Time Lord on my hands."
"I've got a superior immune system," he told her.
She quirked an eyebrow at him, curiosity flaring in her dark eyes, and he wondered if she was going to subject him to a barrage of questions about his physiology.
"Well if you catch a chill, don't come crying to me," she said, smirking at him.
"You're cheeky, you are," he said. She chuckled, and he sighed dramatically. "Okay, I'll go and have a shower, Dr Jones."
"Not a doctor, not yet," she answered.
"I know, but you will be," he said confidently. "Anyway, I will follow your advice, Dr Jones, and have a shower. Sleep well."
"You too. See you tomorrow."
He nodded, knowing that he'd be back in an hour.
* * * * * *
And so it went on. The first time he didn't feel any guilt about sneaking into Martha's room to watch her sleeping was after the business with the living sun: that night she had a nightmare, and cried out his name in voice filled with fear.
"Shh Martha. It's okay, I'm here. I've got you." He switched on her bedside light as he spoke, then shook her awake, and she immediately sat up and wrapped her arms around him, gasping.
"I thought I was going to die," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.
"I know. But you're okay, you're here now, safe in the TARDIS."
He could feel her trembling and began rubbing her back, trying to comfort her. She felt tiny in his arms, her head tucked under his chin and her hands clutching the back of his jacket tightly.
After a while her trembling ceased and she relaxed her death grip on his clothes.
"Why don't you lie down again and I'll hum you a lullaby?" he suggested softly.
"Okay." She lay down and looked up at him, her eyes still dark with fear, and he took her hands in his as he began to hum the lullaby his mother used to sing to him when he was just a small boy.
Gradually Martha's eyes closed and her breathing become deeper. He stopped humming and started to move off the bed, gently pulling his hands free of hers.
She opened her eyes again. "Don't go, please."
He only hesitated for a moment, before he pulled off his Converse, slipped off his jacket and removed his tie. Then he lay down on the bed, allowing her to snuggle up against him.
"Thank you," she murmured, then she fell asleep again.
* * * * * *
After the Doctor had said goodbye to Tim Latimer, he went into his ship, where he found the Control Room empty. Quickly he moved the TARDIS into the Vortex, then went in search of his companion.
He was slightly surprised to find that she wasn't in the kitchen, so he back-tracked to her room and knocked on her door. He waited some time before Martha opened it: she was dressed in her pyjamas with a towel wrapped around her head, turban-style.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked. "Tea? Hot chocolate? Something to eat?"
"No thank you."
He looked at her, wondering what was different about her, and then he suddenly realised: her manner was subservient, her eyes downcast as if he was still her master, and she nothing but his maid, and he knew he would have to do something to restore the equality between them. He stepped closer and put one hand on her shoulder, trying to ignore the way she flinched at his touch, and lifted her chin with his other hand.
"Martha Jones, you are no one's servant now, and you don't need to keep your head down. In fact, you should walk with your head carried high, because you have been absolutely brilliant the last couple of months."
"Thank you," she answered, still not looking him in the eye, and he wondered why. She had looked at him when they'd talked outside, before they'd said goodbye to Tim. And then he remembered what she'd said, that she hadn't really meant it about loving him to bits, and the way he'd accepted that, even though he'd known it wasn't true.
"Oh Martha Jones." He let go of her chin and wrapped both arms around her again. "I meant what I said," he told her. "You were brilliant. I know you had to put up with a lot of nastiness while you were keeping an eye on me, even from my human self, but you stayed strong and cheerful, and - "
"How would you know?" she asked, pulling away from him.
"What?" he asked, confused.
"How do you know I stayed cheerful?"
"Well you always had a smile for John Smith," he answered.
"Of course I did, I knew my place." She turned away and pulled the towel off her head, beginning to rub at her wet hair. "If you don't mind Doctor, I want to sleep now, I've had a very tiring two months."
He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck, knowing that things weren't right between them, and wondering desperately how to put them right, and if she'd want to be taken home after she had slept.
"Of course, sorry." He turned and went out, heading back to the Control Room.
What can I do for her, old girl? he asked. He sank down onto the Captain's chair and closed his eyes. A moment later he felt a telepathic prod from his ship, and when he concentrated he saw images of Martha visiting the ship during the two months they'd been in Farringham: Martha talking to his recorded list of messages; Martha making herself tea in the kitchen and talking aloud to the ship as she worried about how close he was getting to Joan and how hard that would make it to get him to stop being John Smith when the time came; Martha crying herself to sleep in her room as the TARDIS watched over her human companion.
By the time the stream of images had finished, he could feel tears pricking at the corners of his own eyes. "Oh Martha!" He really hadn't had any idea about how painful the last two months had been; she must have felt really lonely to have spent so much time talking to his ship, especially when he'd told her he was going to put the TARDIS onto "stand-by" power so the Family wouldn't notice it. Now, more than ever, he needed to find a way to put things right with Martha, to make up for what she'd been through while he'd been a human.
The Doctor had retired to the library and had been there for several hours when the TARDIS nudged him and indicated that Martha was having a nightmare; he hadn't gone to watch her sleep this time as he wouldn't have felt comfortable, knowing that she was unhappy with him at the moment.
He dropped his book onto the table by his elbow and raced out of the library and along the corridor to Martha's room, hearing her screams of "No Jenny! Please don't! Please Jenny!" as he got closer. He rushed into her room and across to her bed, snapping on the bedside light.
"Martha. Come on Martha, wake up. It's just a dream. Martha!" He shook her awake, and she cried out in fright, shoving against his chest before she was properly awake and knew who was there.
"It's okay, Martha, it's okay," he told her soothingly, capturing her hands in his.
"Who's there?" Her eyes were wide with panic and fear until she recognised who was holding her, then she half-sobbed his name and he sat down on the side of the bed and pulled her close enough to hold.
"Shh, shh. It's okay. You're safe now."
She clutched at his shirt, sobbing against his shoulder and he tried to calm her down, until eventually he began to hum his mother's lullaby to Martha as he rubbed gently at her back. After a while her sobs eased and he felt her beginning to relax a little.
"What were you dreaming?" he asked softly.
"About Jenny. She shot me and took me to the Family's spaceship. She locked me up and Baines started torturing me."
"Oh my poor girl." He kissed her hair, and then her forehead. "I'm so sorry your friend was taken by the Family."
"She was the only friend I had at the school."
"I am sorry." He wondered helplessly what he could do to help her. "What was she like? John Smith never really got a chance to know her."
Martha began to talk, hesitantly at first until she felt assured that he was really listening. After an hour, she was leaning against the Doctor almost limply and had begun yawning.
"Do you want to see if you can sleep again?" he asked.
"I suppose I should," she answered, sounding reluctant.
"Do you want me to stay with you?"
"Would that be okay?"
"Of course. I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't willing. Get yourself comfy and I'll be with you in a moment," he told her before going into Martha's bathroom.
When he returned he pulled off his tie, jacket and shoes, then joined Martha, encouraging her snuggle up close.
"I'm sorry I was so angry earlier," she said sleepily.
"Don't be. You had a hard time at that school, so you'd every right to be angry and upset."
"Yes but - " she began.
"No buts," he told her, kissing her hair. "Go to sleep now."
"G'night Doctor."
"Goodnight Martha."
* * * * * *
The Doctor often indulged his habit of watching Martha sleeping during their stay in 1969, but he hadn't realised just how soothing he found it until he spent a year trapped on board the Valiant with the Master while Martha walked her terrorised planet: he found he missed her as much as he missed his ship. However, she returned safely, and then she helped him and Jack to restore the TARDIS after the Master had turned her into a Paradox Machine. Martha's bond with the ship, which had only grown after their time at Farringham, proved invaluable in completing the repairs in a timely manner.
"I'm going to go to bed," Martha announced, after the three of them had spent several hours working on the ship.
"Want me to come and tuck you in?" asked Jack, grinning suggestively.
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "No thank you."
"Then I'll say goodnight," he said, crossing the room and wrapping her in a warm hug. "Sleep well sweetheart. And remember you're my hero."
She ducked her head, embarrassed. "Thanks."
Jack let go of her and returned to his work in the space underneath the grilled floor around the console.
"Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?" asked the Doctor as he also hugged Martha goodnight.
"No, that's okay, I know you want to get the repairs finished."
"I can spare five minutes to make you a drink," he assured her.
"No, but thank you." She stood up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then went off to her room.
Jack and the Doctor continued their work for a few hours, and then Jack decided to go and get some sandwiches for them both as they hadn't eaten for several hours. Although no time passed, as such, when they were hanging in the Vortex, they tried to sleep and to eat regular meals.
Jack was on his way back from the kitchen with a tray of food and two bottles of ice cold beer for them both when he spotted Martha's bedroom door was ajar. He was surprised that she had woken up again so soon, but when he drew level and glanced inside the room, he got a bigger surprise for there was the Doctor sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Martha's bed. He nudged the door open slightly further and, looking in, saw that she was fast asleep and the Doctor was watching her.
"Doc!" He called out to the Time Lord softly, and the Doctor's head shot up immediately, a flush rising in his cheeks. He quickly got up and crossed to the door, pulling it closed behind him.
"What were you doing?" asked Jack, puzzled.
"Watching Martha," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Why?"
"I was worried she might have a nightmare," he answered, but Jack noticed the Doctor wasn't meeting his eyes. He frowned, then set off towards the Control Room, not wanting to disturb Martha by talking outside her room.
He set the tray down on the Captain's chair, then turned to face the Time Lord, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I get the feeling there's more to this than you're telling me," he observed.
The Doctor rubbed his neck again, still refusing to meet Jack's eyes. "I was worried about her," he said. "She's been through so much for me, especially walking the Earth. And I know she occasionally suffers from nightmares."
"Surely the TARDIS would tell you if Martha was having a nightmare?" Jack asked.
"Yes she would."
"So why the guard dog act?" asked Jack, still puzzled.
The Doctor shrugged, looking a little helpless. "I find it soothing to watch her sleeping," he admitted finally.
The other man shook his head, plainly still puzzled by the Time Lord's actions.
"Don't tell Martha, please?"
Jack shrugged. "I won't, but I think she's got a right to know."
"I'll tell her myself, when we've finished repairing the TARDIS," the Doctor answered quickly.
Jack wondered whether he would, but he wisely didn't push the matter. There was a certain vulnerability about the Time Lord still, and he didn't want to make the Doctor feel cornered. Besides, he could understand why the Time Lord found it soothing to watch Martha sleeping, after all the horrors he'd been forced to watch under the Master's rule.
The Doctor felt relieved that Jack didn't ask him to make a specific promise to tell Martha that he'd been watching her sleep, because that way he wouldn't need to feel guilty about not telling her. He wasn't sure how she'd react and right now he didn't want to do anything to scare her; after the last year, he felt that he needed the stability of having Martha around - he just hoped he could find a way to thank her for what she'd done over the last year. As he ate the sandwiches Jack had made for them, he allowed his mind to drift, planning trips to various pleasure planets which he knew, and to see some of the famous medical people of the past - that was bound to appeal to the young doctor-to-be.
As he and Jack finished the repairs to the TARDIS, he continued to draw up an itinerary of places to go and people to see, smiling in satisfaction at the prospect of exploring more of the universe with Martha Jones at his side.