(no subject)
Her squabbling, shrieking family dissipate into the night like the bubbles in Leo’s abandoned champagne, leaving Martha alone and awkward behind them on the doorstep in the half-light. It’s amazing how much this evening has sucked, she decides, considering that this lunchtime she was on the flaming moon.
And then there’s him.
He’s grinning at her lopsidedly from across the street, and Martha doesn’t even think about thinking twice before she grabs her jacket and follows him to where he waits for her, leaning against a ... big blue box?
She stares at him, and the box, and the way he’s grinning at her.
“I went to the moon today,” she says, and she can’t not grin back at him.
“Bit more peaceful than down here,” he remarks, making Martha shrug.
“You never even told me who you were,” she says, almost hopelessly.
“I’m the Doctor,” is the response, and Martha almost giggles.
“But what sort of species?” she asks. “And it’s not every day I get to ask that.”
“I’m a Time Lord,” he says, and this time she does giggle.
“Right,” she grins. “Not pompous at all, then.”
“I just thought,” he says, twirling a shiny new ... what did he call it, a sonic screwdriver? Something like that. “Since you saved my life, and I’ve got a brand new sonic screwdriver which needs road-testing ... You might fancy a trip.”
“What, into space?” She stares at him like he’s mad - which, let’s face it, he might well be. “But ... but I can’t, I’ve got exams, I’ve got things to do, I’ve got to go into town first thing and pay the rent, and I’ve got my family going mad -”
“I’m gonna get you, Annalise!” screams her sister, somewhere behind her, and something in Martha’s train of thought just goes click.
She looks at this Doctor bloke, whoever he really is, and smiles. “Then again...”
He gives her the oddest smile she’s ever seen. “If it helps ... I can travel in time as well.”
“Get out of here!”
“I can!”
“Oh, come on,” Martha says, shaking her head at him, “that’s going too far.”
“I’ll prove it,” he smirks, stepping into the box...
...And disappearing.
No. Freaking. Way.
She has to be in a dream, now. She has to be. She walks forwards, arms out like a sleepwalker to touch the illusion that has to be there. To have been there. Whatever.
And then there’s that noise again, like an engine from the end of the universe, and she leaps back before the box can crush her, and ... out he steps, brandishing a loose tie like a talisman.
The tie she saw him hold up this morning.
“Told you!” he chirps, and god, he’s a brat but she thinks she could live with that, and anyway she’s too busy flailing.
“No, but - but that was this morning, but... Did you just..?” Her hands are to her mouth. “Oh my God! You can travel in time! But hold on, if you could see me this morning, why didn't you tell me not to go to work?”
“Crossing into established events, strictly forbidden.” He’s smirking again. Does he ever stop? “Except for cheap tricks.”
“And that -” she points- “That’s your spaceship?”
“It’s called the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space.”
She frowns. “Your spaceship is made of wood? But… there’s not much room. We’d be a bit … intimate.”
By way of answer he steps away from the door, gesturing her inside. “Take a look.”
She steps inside obediently, looks around - and it’s all wrong. It’s amazing, but it’s insane. She stares around, runs outside to touch the sides, looks up into the sky, runs around it, runs inside.
“But - it’s bigger on the inside!”
“Is it?” He rolls his eyes at her. “I hadn’t noticed.”
And then suddenly he’s exploding with energy, dashing around the console, shoving buttons and pushing levers and, unfortunately, failing badly at flirting back, but he reaches across to shake her hand and she can’t help but beam back at him. This is insane, it’s wrong, and it’s just brilliant.
“Welcome aboard, Miss Jones.”
She shakes his hand even as she clings on to the machinery for dear life. “My pleasure, Mr Smith.”
They’re still grinning at each other and laughing as the TARDIS jolts and bounces and hurtles its way through time and space.
And then there’s him.
He’s grinning at her lopsidedly from across the street, and Martha doesn’t even think about thinking twice before she grabs her jacket and follows him to where he waits for her, leaning against a ... big blue box?
She stares at him, and the box, and the way he’s grinning at her.
“I went to the moon today,” she says, and she can’t not grin back at him.
“Bit more peaceful than down here,” he remarks, making Martha shrug.
“You never even told me who you were,” she says, almost hopelessly.
“I’m the Doctor,” is the response, and Martha almost giggles.
“But what sort of species?” she asks. “And it’s not every day I get to ask that.”
“I’m a Time Lord,” he says, and this time she does giggle.
“Right,” she grins. “Not pompous at all, then.”
“I just thought,” he says, twirling a shiny new ... what did he call it, a sonic screwdriver? Something like that. “Since you saved my life, and I’ve got a brand new sonic screwdriver which needs road-testing ... You might fancy a trip.”
“What, into space?” She stares at him like he’s mad - which, let’s face it, he might well be. “But ... but I can’t, I’ve got exams, I’ve got things to do, I’ve got to go into town first thing and pay the rent, and I’ve got my family going mad -”
“I’m gonna get you, Annalise!” screams her sister, somewhere behind her, and something in Martha’s train of thought just goes click.
She looks at this Doctor bloke, whoever he really is, and smiles. “Then again...”
He gives her the oddest smile she’s ever seen. “If it helps ... I can travel in time as well.”
“Get out of here!”
“I can!”
“Oh, come on,” Martha says, shaking her head at him, “that’s going too far.”
“I’ll prove it,” he smirks, stepping into the box...
...And disappearing.
No. Freaking. Way.
She has to be in a dream, now. She has to be. She walks forwards, arms out like a sleepwalker to touch the illusion that has to be there. To have been there. Whatever.
And then there’s that noise again, like an engine from the end of the universe, and she leaps back before the box can crush her, and ... out he steps, brandishing a loose tie like a talisman.
The tie she saw him hold up this morning.
“Told you!” he chirps, and god, he’s a brat but she thinks she could live with that, and anyway she’s too busy flailing.
“No, but - but that was this morning, but... Did you just..?” Her hands are to her mouth. “Oh my God! You can travel in time! But hold on, if you could see me this morning, why didn't you tell me not to go to work?”
“Crossing into established events, strictly forbidden.” He’s smirking again. Does he ever stop? “Except for cheap tricks.”
“And that -” she points- “That’s your spaceship?”
“It’s called the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space.”
She frowns. “Your spaceship is made of wood? But… there’s not much room. We’d be a bit … intimate.”
By way of answer he steps away from the door, gesturing her inside. “Take a look.”
She steps inside obediently, looks around - and it’s all wrong. It’s amazing, but it’s insane. She stares around, runs outside to touch the sides, looks up into the sky, runs around it, runs inside.
“But - it’s bigger on the inside!”
“Is it?” He rolls his eyes at her. “I hadn’t noticed.”
And then suddenly he’s exploding with energy, dashing around the console, shoving buttons and pushing levers and, unfortunately, failing badly at flirting back, but he reaches across to shake her hand and she can’t help but beam back at him. This is insane, it’s wrong, and it’s just brilliant.
“Welcome aboard, Miss Jones.”
She shakes his hand even as she clings on to the machinery for dear life. “My pleasure, Mr Smith.”
They’re still grinning at each other and laughing as the TARDIS jolts and bounces and hurtles its way through time and space.