30 Days with Martha Jones: Run
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/194593.html">30 Days with Martha Jones: Run by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha Jones, Romana II | Rating: G | Spoilers: New Who)
Title: 30 Days with Martha Jones: Run
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha Jones, Romana II
Rating: G
Spoilers: New Who
Summary: 30 Days in the life of Martha Jones
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish that I did own it!
Author Notes: I signed up to do mini_nanowrimo this year, and snagged 30 random prompts from doctorwho_100 which will form the basis of the 30 fics I write. Each fic will feature Martha and at least one other Whoniverse character, and the prompt will be included in the title of the fic.
Index Post
~~~~~~
Martha had been relieved that the Doctor had taken the news about Project Indigo so well, and she had commented on his acceptance of what UNIT were doing.
He had shrugged. "If it had allowed you to travel in Time as well as Space, I'd have been worried, but it doesn't. And besides, I trust you Martha Jones."
"Thank you."
Now, nearly a week after her unexpected visit from the Doctor, she was preparing to make yet another jump.
"Are you ready Dr Jones?" asked the technician.
"Ready," she agreed, and pulled the jump cords.
She staggered on landing, but kept her feet. As she straightened up Martha looked around and saw that she had arrived on a shingle beach.
At least I didn't land in the sea, she thought as she set off towards the seafront parade of shops. As she walked, she checked her personal GPS device and saw that she had arrived in Brighton, as intended.
Martha was nearly at the edge of the beach when she heard someone give a sharp cry of pain, and she looked up to see a blonde woman slump down onto the shingle, clutching her ankle; Martha immediately hurried over and saw that the woman looked about a decade older than her.
"Are you all right?" asked the young doctor anxiously.
The blonde woman shook her head. "I twisted my ankle. It's my own fault for not wearing sensible shoes, but I wasn't expecting to have to run today, so I dared to wear these."
Martha was intrigued by the woman's reference to running, but she didn't ask for an explanation, she just looked down at the shoes in question, which the woman was removing. The silver-grey shoes had a fair sized heel on them.
"And you thought these would be suitable to wear on a shingle beach'?" Martha asked, slightly more severely than she'd intended.
"At least I'm not wearing a school uniform this time," the blonde woman retorted.
Martha blinked in puzzlement at this non-sequitur, then focused her attention on the woman. "Your ankle may be sprained, if we can get you off this beach, I can examine it for you. You should certainly rest it, even if it's only twisted."
The woman raised an eyebrow at Martha, reminding her suddenly of the Doctor.
"I'm a doctor, Dr Martha Jones," she said.
"Romana," she answered.
"That's a pretty name, is it Irish?"
"Something like that," Romana answered vaguely.
"We should find somewhere for you to sit so I can examine your ankle," Martha said.
"There's a beach hut just over there," Romana said, pointing to a small wooden hut.
For some reason it reminded Martha of the TARDIS, until she realised that its colour was almost exactly the same shade of blue as the outer Police Box shell of the Doctor's ship. She helped Romana to her feet, putting her shoulder under the older woman's arm so that Romana's weight was off the sore ankle as they made their way over to the hut.
When they reached the hut, Martha reached out for the door handle, but Romana stopped her.
"I think you'll find it's locked," she said, producing a key on a fine silver chain from inside the neck of the cream shirt she wore.
"You've got your own beach hut?" asked Martha, thinking that Romana was even more eccentric than she'd first suspected.
The older woman unlocked the door. "It's not exactly a beach hut," she answered, and hobbled through the door.
The young doctor followed, then stood stock still inside the doorway, staring around, while Romana watched her curiously.
"It's a TARDIS," Martha whispered, awed. She looked around to see the older woman watching her curiously. "Which makes you a Time Lord. How on Earth, or even on Gallifrey, is that even possible?"
"Come inside properly, and we will talk," she answered.
Martha walked over to the central console, which looked nothing like the one she knew, but reminded her of the one she'd briefly glimpsed only a few weeks ago when she'd been in the Third Doctor's TARDIS.
"I'm assuming you know the Doctor, that you've travelled with him," Romana said as she touched a button and the door closed again.
"Yes."
"Which means he, at least, will survive the Time War." She glanced at Martha's shocked expression as she sat down on the two-seater sofa that was positioned near the console. "But I'm guessing from your state of shock that the Time Lords, collectively, do not survive."
Martha opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again, an anxious expression on her face.
"It's okay," Romana assured her, "you can tell me. When I ordered my people to wage this war against the Daleks, I was well aware of the possibility that we could all be wiped out." She gestured at the seat beside her.
"Come and sit down and tell me of my fate."
"Won't that cause a paradox?" asked Martha, pulling off the Indigo device and sinking into the seat beside the Time Lord.
Romana shrugged. "I shouldn't think so. In some respects, it already happened, and since I am, apparently, dead, it's obvious that whatever you tell me does not lead me to change my fate, therefore you may as well tell me."
"Wibbly, wobbly, timey-wimey," Martha muttered softly. "I can only tell you what the Doctor has told me, and I doubt that he has told me everything yet."
Romana nodded. "Please tell me what you do know."
Martha took a deep breath, then repeated everything she had learned from the Doctor at various points during their acquaintance, and the Time Lord beside her listened intently.
Once her narrative was finished, Romana sighed quietly before she spoke. "It is hard to think of Gallifrey being gone some day, and that the Time Lords will also cease to exist, but it must happen, as it will happen, as indeed it has happened, from your perspective."
They sat silently for a few moments. "I should have listened to Leela, and not made this trip, but I allowed nostalgia to dictate my actions, and now I pay the price."
"I'm sorry," Martha said quietly. She felt far worse now than she had when she had met the Doctor's eighth incarnation; the fact that Romana had insisted on being told, did not make her feel any better. The young doctor wished passionately that she had gone to Blackpool or Bognor Regis, anywhere but Brighton.
"Don't cry Martha," Romana said softly. "It's not your fault."
"It is! If only I hadn't come here today, or if I'd only kept my mouth shut earlier, pretended to be shocked that the beach hut wasn't a beach hut. If - "
"Now stop that," the Time Lord said firmly. "It's done and there is no use in either of us saying 'if only'. We both could have done things differently today, but neither one of us did."
She pulled out a handkerchief and dried Martha's tears, and the younger woman turned and clung to her.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Romana swallowed. "Just promise me one thing, Dr Jones."
"Anything."
"Look after the Doctor for me, and never, ever, tell him of this meeting between us, because it would hurt his hearts if he knew."
"I promise," Martha answered.
"Good. I must get back to Gallifrey, and you must be on your way too." She got to her feet and pulled Martha up too, then embraced her properly. "Brave heart, Martha Jones," she said softly in the young doctor's ear.
Martha nodded jerkily, then picked up the Indigo device and let herself out of Romana's TARDIS. She didn't look back as she heard the ship dematerialise, and moments later she headed back to London with a heavy heart.
Title: 30 Days with Martha Jones: Run
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha Jones, Romana II
Rating: G
Spoilers: New Who
Summary: 30 Days in the life of Martha Jones
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish that I did own it!
Author Notes: I signed up to do mini_nanowrimo this year, and snagged 30 random prompts from doctorwho_100 which will form the basis of the 30 fics I write. Each fic will feature Martha and at least one other Whoniverse character, and the prompt will be included in the title of the fic.
Index Post
~~~~~~
Martha had been relieved that the Doctor had taken the news about Project Indigo so well, and she had commented on his acceptance of what UNIT were doing.
He had shrugged. "If it had allowed you to travel in Time as well as Space, I'd have been worried, but it doesn't. And besides, I trust you Martha Jones."
"Thank you."
Now, nearly a week after her unexpected visit from the Doctor, she was preparing to make yet another jump.
"Are you ready Dr Jones?" asked the technician.
"Ready," she agreed, and pulled the jump cords.
She staggered on landing, but kept her feet. As she straightened up Martha looked around and saw that she had arrived on a shingle beach.
At least I didn't land in the sea, she thought as she set off towards the seafront parade of shops. As she walked, she checked her personal GPS device and saw that she had arrived in Brighton, as intended.
Martha was nearly at the edge of the beach when she heard someone give a sharp cry of pain, and she looked up to see a blonde woman slump down onto the shingle, clutching her ankle; Martha immediately hurried over and saw that the woman looked about a decade older than her.
"Are you all right?" asked the young doctor anxiously.
The blonde woman shook her head. "I twisted my ankle. It's my own fault for not wearing sensible shoes, but I wasn't expecting to have to run today, so I dared to wear these."
Martha was intrigued by the woman's reference to running, but she didn't ask for an explanation, she just looked down at the shoes in question, which the woman was removing. The silver-grey shoes had a fair sized heel on them.
"And you thought these would be suitable to wear on a shingle beach'?" Martha asked, slightly more severely than she'd intended.
"At least I'm not wearing a school uniform this time," the blonde woman retorted.
Martha blinked in puzzlement at this non-sequitur, then focused her attention on the woman. "Your ankle may be sprained, if we can get you off this beach, I can examine it for you. You should certainly rest it, even if it's only twisted."
The woman raised an eyebrow at Martha, reminding her suddenly of the Doctor.
"I'm a doctor, Dr Martha Jones," she said.
"Romana," she answered.
"That's a pretty name, is it Irish?"
"Something like that," Romana answered vaguely.
"We should find somewhere for you to sit so I can examine your ankle," Martha said.
"There's a beach hut just over there," Romana said, pointing to a small wooden hut.
For some reason it reminded Martha of the TARDIS, until she realised that its colour was almost exactly the same shade of blue as the outer Police Box shell of the Doctor's ship. She helped Romana to her feet, putting her shoulder under the older woman's arm so that Romana's weight was off the sore ankle as they made their way over to the hut.
When they reached the hut, Martha reached out for the door handle, but Romana stopped her.
"I think you'll find it's locked," she said, producing a key on a fine silver chain from inside the neck of the cream shirt she wore.
"You've got your own beach hut?" asked Martha, thinking that Romana was even more eccentric than she'd first suspected.
The older woman unlocked the door. "It's not exactly a beach hut," she answered, and hobbled through the door.
The young doctor followed, then stood stock still inside the doorway, staring around, while Romana watched her curiously.
"It's a TARDIS," Martha whispered, awed. She looked around to see the older woman watching her curiously. "Which makes you a Time Lord. How on Earth, or even on Gallifrey, is that even possible?"
"Come inside properly, and we will talk," she answered.
Martha walked over to the central console, which looked nothing like the one she knew, but reminded her of the one she'd briefly glimpsed only a few weeks ago when she'd been in the Third Doctor's TARDIS.
"I'm assuming you know the Doctor, that you've travelled with him," Romana said as she touched a button and the door closed again.
"Yes."
"Which means he, at least, will survive the Time War." She glanced at Martha's shocked expression as she sat down on the two-seater sofa that was positioned near the console. "But I'm guessing from your state of shock that the Time Lords, collectively, do not survive."
Martha opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again, an anxious expression on her face.
"It's okay," Romana assured her, "you can tell me. When I ordered my people to wage this war against the Daleks, I was well aware of the possibility that we could all be wiped out." She gestured at the seat beside her.
"Come and sit down and tell me of my fate."
"Won't that cause a paradox?" asked Martha, pulling off the Indigo device and sinking into the seat beside the Time Lord.
Romana shrugged. "I shouldn't think so. In some respects, it already happened, and since I am, apparently, dead, it's obvious that whatever you tell me does not lead me to change my fate, therefore you may as well tell me."
"Wibbly, wobbly, timey-wimey," Martha muttered softly. "I can only tell you what the Doctor has told me, and I doubt that he has told me everything yet."
Romana nodded. "Please tell me what you do know."
Martha took a deep breath, then repeated everything she had learned from the Doctor at various points during their acquaintance, and the Time Lord beside her listened intently.
Once her narrative was finished, Romana sighed quietly before she spoke. "It is hard to think of Gallifrey being gone some day, and that the Time Lords will also cease to exist, but it must happen, as it will happen, as indeed it has happened, from your perspective."
They sat silently for a few moments. "I should have listened to Leela, and not made this trip, but I allowed nostalgia to dictate my actions, and now I pay the price."
"I'm sorry," Martha said quietly. She felt far worse now than she had when she had met the Doctor's eighth incarnation; the fact that Romana had insisted on being told, did not make her feel any better. The young doctor wished passionately that she had gone to Blackpool or Bognor Regis, anywhere but Brighton.
"Don't cry Martha," Romana said softly. "It's not your fault."
"It is! If only I hadn't come here today, or if I'd only kept my mouth shut earlier, pretended to be shocked that the beach hut wasn't a beach hut. If - "
"Now stop that," the Time Lord said firmly. "It's done and there is no use in either of us saying 'if only'. We both could have done things differently today, but neither one of us did."
She pulled out a handkerchief and dried Martha's tears, and the younger woman turned and clung to her.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Romana swallowed. "Just promise me one thing, Dr Jones."
"Anything."
"Look after the Doctor for me, and never, ever, tell him of this meeting between us, because it would hurt his hearts if he knew."
"I promise," Martha answered.
"Good. I must get back to Gallifrey, and you must be on your way too." She got to her feet and pulled Martha up too, then embraced her properly. "Brave heart, Martha Jones," she said softly in the young doctor's ear.
Martha nodded jerkily, then picked up the Indigo device and let herself out of Romana's TARDIS. She didn't look back as she heard the ship dematerialise, and moments later she headed back to London with a heavy heart.