Characters/Pairings: Martha/Eight, Martha/Ten [if you squint]
Word Count: 5310
Genre: Fluffy Romance
Rating: PG? [everything is pretty innocuous]
Spoilers: 1969 Fic [i.e. S3 of Doctor Who
up through the end of “Blink”]
Summary: While trapped in 1969, Martha runs into the Eighth Doctor and spends the day with him and fluffiness ensues.
Beta: The supercalifragilisticexpialidocious persiflage_1
All your Doctor Who are belong to us
Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al, or Martha would have been treated better in S3.
Author Notes: Well, the smith_n_jones
1969 Ficathon needed some pinch hitters
so I decided to bite the bullet and try my hand at my first 1969 fic. I’ve never written a story with preset prompts and a deadline before and I’ll admit that it was a bit scary, but I think that I did all right. I also have never written Eight before, but after thinking and thinking and thinking of which Doctor to include, I kept gravitating toward him for some reason, so there you go! I hope that I do him some justice (I know it sure came out fluffier than anything I have ever written)! Anyway, this is for marsgirl101
a) Martha running into a previous doctor
b) domesticity (domestication?)
c) neon green high heeled shoes
I hope that I delivered! Oh, and thanks so much to the super-dooper persiflage_1
who beta’d this piece – girl, you are, as always, a star! Any other mistakes are all mine. Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two.
Martha did her best to stifle the yawn that was fighting its way out of her. She had barely slept the night before with all the noise that the Doctor kept making. He was working on his project to help them get home (something about “timey-wimey”,
she mused) and while he generally only seemed to work on it during the day while she was at work or at least until she went to bed, he apparently had some sort of breakthrough that night and ended up tinkering most of the night with it.
Tinkering very loudly, that is.
Now here she was rather early the next morning working the first shift at Maxwell’s – the vintage bookstore she’d been working at the last few weeks to support herself and the Doctor – when all she wanted to do was trudge back home and go back to sleep.
“Good morning,” a soft voice said, startling her as she realized she must have dozed off for a brief moment as she sat at the checkout counter with her chin propped up on her elbows.
She looked before her to see a man with shining blue eyes, a mop of brown curly hair, and a wide, friendly grin. He was dressed in what looked like an Edwardian fancy dress costume, complete with an ascot. Martha could tell right away that he was eccentric, perhaps even more so than several of the artsy intelligentsia and various hippie types she’d also met in the time period. Such people seemed to frequent Maxwell’s, which made many of her days quite entertaining to say the least.
This man was somehow different though and, even more strangely, somehow familiar.
“Good morning,” she replied back, “may I help you?”
“I’d like to purchase this, please,” he responded, handing her an old battered copy of The Time Machine
by H.G. Wells and some coins.
“Of course,” Martha replied, taking the book from him for his purchase while counting up his money.
It took Martha a moment to count the money as she had been struggling at bit with the currency since she’d arrived as England had not yet decimalized the currency, but she was getting there.
She always did love a challenge.
“I was always very fond of Herbert,” the strange gentleman said to Martha as she finished.
He then leaned forward and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “I was with him just before he wrote the precursor to this, The Chronic Argonauts.
Nebogipfel was very, very loosely based on me, actually. I am not sure if I am flattered or not by that.”
Martha replied with a nervous laugh, eyeing the stranger before her with bemusement.
“You don’t believe me,” the man said, straightening up but giving her a mischievous smile.
Of course Martha had heard many similar stories from the Doctor, but she was sure that this random stranger in her store was either having her on or completely mad. Being alone in the store with him, she worried a bit that it might just be the latter with his anachronistic style of dress.
“There’s no way that you could have known H.G. Wells. You would either have to be much, much older or – "
“Or I would have needed to travel in time?” he finished her sentence, his finger seeming to absently trace the words ‘Time Machine’ on the book’s cover before him.
“Yes, and that’s impossible,” she said, trying not to bite her tongue as she knew it actually was
possible, but that she should probably not say so.
“Impossible, you say?” the man replied, his smile getting wider and his blue eyes glinting at her, “Well then, I wonder why I would smell radiation from the time vortex all over you if it is so impossible.”
“Excuse me?” Martha replied, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and very awake. She also felt worried that she somehow smelled of something that was imperceptible to her own senses.
“It’s alright, it’s not as if other people can smell it or anything,” he said, seemingly amused at Martha sniffing herself, “In fact, generally only my race can.”
Martha was very worried now. Was this some sort of alien who meant to do her harm? Was it a hunter like The Family?
The man leaned forward again, a look of absolute excitement on his face. “Yes, my race – Time Lords.”
Martha’s eyes widened and she suddenly felt very excited about the idea of meeting another Time Lord. She was especially excited that she might now be able to tell the Doctor that he was not in fact alone in the universe and that the Face of Boe was right after all.
“Yes, Martha. A Time Lord.”
“How did you know my name?” Martha bristled a little, still feeling somewhat guarded with the stranger.
“Well, I have been watching you, especially after I caught your scent. I was really just passing through when I noticed it, but my curiosity got the better of me, I suppose.”
“Watching me?” Martha backed up slightly from him.
“No need to be afraid, Martha. I mean you no harm, honestly.”
“So, what is your name then, since you know mine and all that? It’s only fair for me to know.”
“Of course! Where are my manners?” he exclaimed, brushing his hands off on his coat before offering her a hand, “I am the Doctor.”
Then the stranger pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly before freeing it. Martha stared at him, feeling herself both completely confused, yet charmed by the kiss.
quite an attractive man she had to admit.
be,” Martha said, now looking around the store to verify that they were still alone, “I know the Doctor and you are not
“Then maybe I’ll just have to prove it to you.”
The man claiming to be the Doctor – this curly haired stranger with the magnificent eyes – came back to the store later that day during Martha’s lunchbreak. With her arm curled around his, the two of them set off into the streets of London, both chatting amiably, yet still holding back little bits of themselves.
Martha could see that her two co-workers, Gillian and Margaret, who had come in for their shift, were whispering and staring at them as they left the store and Martha knew that they had to be gossiping about her, especially as they believed that she was married to the Doctor.
Doctor, that is. Her Doctor who was calling himself John Smith again (yet not the flirty John Smith she’d met back at Royal Hope Hospital or the emotionally distant John Smith she’d suffered through at Farringham) and who was likely sitting back at their flat, surrounded by bits and bobs and building his contraption – whatever it was.
Sometimes Martha wondered if he – her Doctor – was even building anything at all. Sometimes it was as if he was just hiding in the busy-ness of it, losing himself in the act of just doing something
to pass the time when for once he had no over-arching control over its passage.
“So, he’s never told you about regeneration then?” this Doctor asked as they made their way down the street and toward a park nearby.
Martha wanted to say that he seemed to barely tell her anything, at least not without a confrontation, but she held back. Her Doctor had been a large cause of frustration for her over the past few weeks – he’d been mostly withdrawn and quiet, which seemed to sting that much more with her being alone and needing his company more than ever, but that was no reason to take things out on this one.
“No,” she said simply, with a small trace of sadness.
This Doctor explained regeneration to her and seemed delighted by her questions and insights. He seemed even more delighted to find that in her own time she was training to be a doctor and he could see what his future self must find so appealing about her.
“Oh, I was very much in love with a doctor once,” this Doctor quietly mused with a deep sigh, reaching up to pat Martha’s hand that was now wrapped around his arm. He then looked down at her with a wistful smile.
Martha tried to smile back at him, but found it difficult. She found herself wishing that her Doctor could say such things about her. She wanted to kick herself for that.
The Doctor stopped and shifted to turn and look down at her, brushing a thumb along her cheek as he looked into her eyes. “Martha, why are you so sad?” he asked quietly, the blue of his eyes seeming to intensify as they bore into hers.
Martha looked down, her arms falling to her sides as she tried to hold down all the feelings rushing within her. It had been a hard few months with all the events of Farringham, being stuck in 1969, and most of all, constantly dealing with the confusing signals her Doctor was always giving her. She was generally not one to succumb to stress, but all of it was almost getting a bit much for even her to bear.
The Doctor reached down and pulled up her chin with his finger, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Come on, let’s go eat,” he whispered and offered his arm again.
Martha found herself startled by the gesture, but slipped her arm in his nonetheless. “Where are we going to eat?”
“I thought the TARDIS might be nice, besides we can add a bit of time to your lunch hour if need be,” he replied with a wink.
Martha was startled by how different this Doctor’s TARDIS looked inside. The console room was wide open and both very gothic and almost steampunk looking. There was even a small library to the side. It really fit with the way this Doctor looked and it made her wonder how different the TARDIS might have looked with other incarnations of the Doctor.
“My my, the TARDIS really
likes you,” the Doctor said smiling brightly as he led her through the console room.
Martha smiled as she looked around. She felt like she had a growing bond with the TARDIS already, especially after all her visits to her back in Farringham, so it was nice to be acknowledged for it. “I really like her too,” she replied, “And I really miss her.”
“Well, she never forgets anyone, especially the ones she likes. She’s a sentimental old girl.”
“You mean, she knows me, even though you and I haven’t met?”
“It’s somewhat hard to explain, but she knows all of time, always. She knows the past, present, and future and therefore, she knows you.”
don’t?” Martha asked, sheepishly.
“Yes and no, I mean, I have this sense of…familiarity with you, but I have no memories of you. It’s different with me. I can see all of time, but not as well as her,” he replied, cocking his head a bit before he seemed to understand there was a hidden question in there as well, “I wish I did, though, Martha. I greatly look forward to meeting you in my future.”
Martha blushed and the Doctor took her hand and led her over to a small ornate table in the far corner of the console room. He pulled out the chair for her to sit and then sat across from her.
“Martha, you said that you missed the TARDIS. I have been watching you the last few days and I have even seen my future self with you at times, but nowhere around do I pick up readings or sense his TARDIS. Is something wrong?”
Martha sighed heavily and explained the story of Wester Drumlins, the Weeping Angels, and Sally Sparrow. She explained how they were trapped in 1969 until this Sally could send the TARDIS back to them. To her, it all sounded a bit complicated as she explained it, but the Doctor’s interested and open expression seemed to reflect that he was following and understanding what she was talking about.
“But you can bring us back, yeah? You have a TARDIS,” Martha added at the end, excited by the prospect of escaping the prison of domestication with her Doctor.
Martha was not only working long hours while in 1969, but she was also coming home each day to cook and clean and otherwise take care of things. It honestly didn’t feel like a far cry from when she was recently a maid back at Farringham. She ran her fingertips over her hands – the rough and callused skin a stark physical reminder of all of her hard work.
The Doctor reached his hands across the table, taking hers into his own, his hands feeling so smooth and soft in contrast. “As much as I would like to, I unfortunately cannot.”
“But why?” Martha asked, her tone now sounding defeated.
“You have to let things happen as they are meant to. The way you explained things, it sounds like everything has to happen precisely the way it did or the timeline will be damaged. There are a lot of issues of cause and effect that if I were to interfere, I would make a mess of things. I am sorry, but I can’t help. I wish I could as I can tell you are unhappy and I am sure that my future self is unhappy being so disconnected from the TARDIS.”
Martha looked down, a tear slipping down her cheek despite her attempt to stay strong. When she met this Doctor and walked into his TARDIS, she had felt the first glimmer of hope in weeks. It saddened her when it was so quickly dashed.
The Doctor reached forward and caressed the tear away from her cheek. “Come on, I think you deserve a picnic!”
“But it’s so cold outside,” Martha countered.
“I was thinking more in the TARDIS gardens. Hasn’t my future self even shown you them?”
“Well, that is a shame. I’ll have to make up for his omission,” the Doctor said excitedly, standing up.
He still held Martha’s hand after she stood and led her through the corridors of the TARDIS toward the gardens. Before arriving, they made a quick stop in the TARDIS kitchen (which also looked very different than the kitchen she was used to, she noted) to pick up some bread, fruit, cheese, and wine as well as a picnic basket.
Martha thought that the garden that the Doctor brought her to within the TARDIS was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. The grass was a soft, deep red, the sky was burnt orange, and where they sat, trees with glistening silver leaves surrounded them. Martha immediately remembered the description of the Doctor’s planet of Gallifrey from their talk in the underbelly of New New York and it struck her almost like a blow that this garden was a recreation of his planet. Tears started to well in her eyes as she thought of how the planet no longer existed and how much pain that caused her Doctor. She wondered if that was why he’d never showed her the garden himself, that perhaps he was still too emotionally raw to even visit it. She also wondered if the Doctor she was with knew of the destruction of Gallifrey as he didn’t seem to carry the same angst as he Doctor did.
She decided not to bring it up just in case.
The Doctor laid out a blanket on the grass that he had stored in the picnic basket and invited her to sit down with him. If he noticed that she’d been tearful, he never mentioned it, instead sharing pleasant conversation with her – she about her life and family and him telling humorous anecdotes from his travels (some of which she’d already heard from her Doctor, but that she still found interesting to hear from a different perspective and told in a different way).
Martha savored eating the fresh bread, fruits, and gourmet cheeses the Doctor had brought on their picnic and even let herself indulge in some of the wine (despite the fact that she needed to eventually get back to work and be sober when she did). While not a large feast, it certainly beat the diet of beans-on-toast and spaghetti that she and her Doctor had been living on since their arrival.
As they chatted, she barely noticed that the Doctor kept refilling her wine glass until the effects of the wine began to remind her body of how tired she actually was.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she teased, her words slurring a bit.
“No Martha, I am just trying to get you to relax. You seem far too tense,” the Doctor said with a sweet smile.
Martha yawned despite herself and felt her eyes begin to droop.
“Perhaps you need a nap,” the Doctor added. “You have looked so tired today, are you not sleeping well?”
“Mostly I am,” Martha replied, yawning again, “just last night he – you – were working on the t-tommy-timey-whiney-wimey-whatever thing all through the night and I barely slept.”
“I’ve always been a bit oblivious when I am focused on a project,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. “As an apology, why don’t you take a nap here on the TARDIS?”
“But I need to get back to work!” Martha protested, feeling somewhat dizzy.
The Doctor waved his hand around, referring to his ship, “Time machine, remember?”
The Doctor rushed to put the food back in the kitchen and then returned to carry Martha out of the gardens, through the corridors of the TARDIS, to a room at the end of the hall. She was quite surprised when he opened the door to see that it looked just like her room on her Doctor’s TARDIS. In fact, she gasped at the sight.
“Your room, I am presuming?” the Doctor asked, carrying her inside and over to the bed.
“Yes, but how?” she stammered as she looked up at him, watching him delicately lay her down on top of the covers.
“The TARDIS remembers you and must have pulled the memory of your room from your mind. I told you that she was sentimental. She – we – just want you to be comfortable.”
The Doctor reached down to help Martha take her shoes off. “Do you need pajamas?” he asked, “If you keep pajamas in your room, they should be here.”
Martha thought about it for a moment and then decided to take him up on his offer. “Yes, they are in the top drawer over there,” she said, pointing to the chest of drawers on the other side of the room. “Oh, I can get them. I feel so rude,” she added with a blush.
“Nonsense,” the Doctor patted her arm, “let me get them for you. You have taken enough care of me lately from what I gather, let me take care of you for once.”
The Doctor got up and crossed the room, pulling out a pair of pajamas. He held them up for her – a pair of light blue flannel pajamas printed with bright yellow stars – and asked, “Are these sufficient?”
Martha blushed a bit at them as she felt they were a bit childish, but nodded affirmatively. The Doctor walked back over and handed them to her. “I’ll be outside, just call me when you are changed.”
Martha watched as the Doctor walked out of the room and mused at how different he was than her Doctor. Sure he seemed to get excited about things much like her Doctor did, but there was still a sweetness that lay beneath that seemed as if it was somehow lost in her own Doctor. She wondered if it was because of all of the loss he had been through.
Martha hurriedly changed out of her work clothes into her pajamas and called out for the Doctor when she was ready. When he returned, he was smiling and walked back over to the bed. Martha shifted to get under the covers and he leaned down to tuck her in.
“Doctor?” she whispered, peering up at him. “Would you stay with me while I sleep?”
The Doctor reached down to stroke her hair. “Is that what you want, Martha?”
“Anything for you,” he whispered. “Do you mind if I take off my shirt and coat to get more comfortable?”
“Of course not, go ahead.”
The Doctor pulled off his coat, cravat, and waistcoat and unbuttoned his shirt. Martha found herself trying her best not to stare as he finally took off his shirt and kicked off his shoes and socks, leaving him just in his beige trousers.
He placed his clothes in a nearby chair and then settled under the covers on his side facing Martha. The lights immediately dimmed and Martha moved to curl up against the Doctor’s chest.
“Is this alright?” she asked, shyly.
“Of course,” he said gently, shifting onto his back so that she could wrap her arm around his chest and settle against him. He moved to wrap an arm around her shoulder and began to lightly stroke her hair.
They lay there for a few moments in silence before the Doctor heard quiet sobs coming from Martha and felt the wetness from her tears on his chest.
“Martha, what is it?” he asked quietly.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I just never thought this would happen with you – him – whomever.”
“I have never been one to do this so much, or at least as much as I probably should, and I can only imagine that your regeneration is unfortunately the same way,” he offered.
“It’s just...I am so invisible
to him, it just drives me absolutely mad. I sometimes can’t believe how you look at me, how you treat me, and how you are holding me now. He
would never do that,” she said, her tone laced with sorrow.
“Oh, Martha,” he said with a sigh, pulling her tighter against him, “I told you that I have been watching you over the last few days and in that time I have also watched you with my future self. I can’t speak to his feelings because while I am him, I am not him yet, but I’ve seen how he looks at you when you aren’t watching and I am quite sure that you are not ‘invisible’ to him. Sometimes I am rubbish at expressing myself in any of my regenerations and while I don’t know why he is holding back, I can tell that you mean a lot to him. Really. Trust me on this. I am just sorry that you have to hear this from me and not him.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“No, thank you, Martha,” he replied, giving her one more squeeze. “Now get some sleep.”
When Martha woke up, she was unsure of how much time had passed, but knew she had finally sobered up. As she came to consciousness, she realized that the Doctor was spooning her from behind with his arm draped over her. She wanted to lie like that forever, in his arms, but she knew that she was going to have to return to Real Life very soon.
“Did you sleep well?” the Doctor’s voice, smooth as silk, vibrated through her.
“Yes, very well, actually. How long was I asleep?”
“About 7 hours. It seems you really needed some rest,” he replied with a light chuckle.
Martha turned in his arms to face him. “Yes, I did. Thank you so much. All of today has meant so much to me.”
The Doctor reached down and stroked her cheek. “It’s meant so much to me as well, Martha. Thank you.”
After laying and chatting for a few moments until Martha was fully awake, the Doctor dressed and left the room so that she could change back into her work clothes. As she dressed she felt almost melancholy about returning back to reality, but she also felt so much joy from connecting with the Doctor as she had, even if he wasn’t her Doctor.
As she wandered out into the corridor, the Doctor met her carrying a bag. “I packed this with the bread, fruit, cheeses, and wine as well as some other foods. I know that times are tough right now, so I wanted to give the two of you something to help.” With this he handed her the bag.
“Wow, thank you!” Martha exclaimed, feeling almost overwhelmed by his generosity.
“Oh, and I thought you might like to take a quick look through the wardrobe room. You mentioned struggling with being able to afford clothing for the time period and I should have some things to help you out there as well.”
Martha followed him down the corridor to a large open room with racks of clothing all over. On the rack closest to her she found several outfits from the time period that all looked to be her size.
“Looks like the TARDIS prepared a rack for you,” the Doctor said with a smile.
Martha pulled off a few of the dresses, a few pairs of bell-bottoms, and some shirts from the rack. She also looked at the shoes – all of which also were in her size – and settled on two pairs of boots and some neon green high heeled shoes that matched one of the dresses she’d picked. The Doctor handed her another bag to put everything in and helped her carry everything back to the console room.
The Doctor set the coordinates to take them out of the vortex and return her. “Back to the beginning of your lunch hour,” he exclaimed before walking her toward the door.
“Thank you so much for everything, Doctor!” Martha said, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.
The Doctor held her to him, caressing her back. His hugs felt different than her Doctor’s, but they still felt a bit like home. “Thank you, Martha. As I said, I greatly look forward to meeting you again in my future.”
Martha stepped away from the hug and looked up at him with a big smile. “And Martha, I have something else for you,” he added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out what almost seemed like two rocks at a glance, “Here is a small piece of the TARDIS. I want you to have it, to remember me, to remember this day, and to remember that no matter what I say or do not say as my future self, I care a lot about you. I also want you to take this other piece to my future self. I can only imagine how disconnected he is feeling from her right now and I hope that this will bring him a little bit of comfort until they are reunited again.”
The Doctor pressed the two pieces – which now looked like coral as Martha got a better look at them – into Martha’s palm and then leaned forward to press a sweet kiss on her lips.
”I’ll miss you,” she said as she picked up her bags and turned to leave.
“Remember me,” he called out after her as she walked out of the door.
“Always,” she said turning back to wave to him one last time before closing the TARDIS door and watching it dematerialize.
The Doctor had dropped her off right outside the back of her block of flats and she was almost startled by the Doctor – her Doctor – suddenly running out of the building toward her, apparently due to hearing the wheezing sound of his TARDIS from inside.
“The TARDIS, I heard it!” he exclaimed, breathing heavily in front of her.
Martha looked up at his dazed expression, put down her bags, and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He seemed surprised at first, but quickly softened and wrapped his arms around her as well.
“I met you, another you, today” she whispered almost sadly against the fabric of his coat. “He said he couldn’t take us home.”
“No, I should think not,” the Doctor replied, his own tone a little sad.
Martha pulled back from him and pointed down at the bags on the ground by her feet. “He gave us some food and me some clothes to help out though. He also wanted me to give you a gift.”
Martha reached into her pocket and pulled out one of the pieces of coral and handed it to the Doctor. “He hoped it would bring you a bit of comfort with her gone,” Martha added softly.
The Doctor stared down at the coral in his hand and his eyes began to well with tears. He lightly and lovingly caressed the coral with his fingertips and then looked up at Martha. He pulled her into a tight embrace, now crying tears of joy. “Thank you, Martha. Oh, thank you so very much!”
After a short time of just standing outside hugging one another, the Doctor stepped back from their embrace. He wiped his face and smiled widely down at Martha. “Here, let me help you with these,” he said, reaching down to pick up the bags.
He carried them inside the building and up the stairs to their flat as Martha followed. The Doctor set the bags down on the kitchen table and then took Martha’s hand and led her over to the couch. He pulled her down with him as he sat, wrapping an arm around her.
“Tell me all about your day,” he said gently.
“Unfortunately I need to get back to work,” Martha said with a sad sigh.
“Well, I guess you just need to tell them you can’t come back today, that you had some emergency.”
“Doctor,” she scolded him, “I might get fired.”
“I won’t let you get fired, Martha. I am good with people, remember? I can convince them to keep you if they decide to make such an error of judgment. In fact, let me
call,” the Doctor said, standing up and walking toward the phone in the room.
Martha stared at him, almost baffled by his behavior and watched in amusement as he called up her work, made up some medical emergency about a non-existent family member of hers, chatted genially with whomever was on the other line for a few minutes, and then finished the call.
“See? They said you didn’t need to come back until everything was cleared up and to take all the time you need,” he said triumphantly after he returned the phone receiver to its cradle.
The Doctor walked back over to Martha and sat back down. He wrapped an arm around her again and pulled her against his chest. Martha was surprised as he’d rarely been one to be so physically affectionate with her, but she decided to not make an issue of it.
“So, where were we? Oh yes, tell me about your day, Martha Jones. I want to hear all about it,” he said excitedly.
The two of them talked well into the late afternoon, Martha recounting her day with his other incarnation while the Doctor held her against him and lightly caressed her back. At one point, late in the conversation, Martha reached into her pocket and softly caressed the coral the other Doctor had given her, remembering his words about how much he cared about her. She had to smile, as here she was with the Doctor – her
Doctor, this time – and he was finally holding her, being gentle with her, and actually paying attention to her.
She wondered for a moment if he now remembered her from that day too.