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Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: Teen
DISCLAIMER: Again, Doctor/Martha isn't a thing.
Summary: Not the most cringiest, but not great. Mostly archiving here. Depressed Doctor and Martha and UNIT. Blanks left for technobabble I hadn't figured out yet.
"Don't let me go off on my own," The Doctor stated, staring off into the distance, barely acknowledging Martha's presence as the toiled up the headland to join him.
"Why?" Martha smiled at him, gently establishing herself by his side. She would have linked arms with him, but something told her not to.
He didn't smile at her, just kept staring off into the distance. He didn't even reply, instead letting the silence speak eloquently for him, harsh and bitter as the chill of the winds.
This time she drew closer to him, pulling him to her side. He barely reacted, but this close she could see the wet streaks on his face that he'd hastily wiped away with the back of a sleeve.
"Doctor, what's wrong?" she asked gently, knowing that if her touch was just a little too harsh, he would fracture, lose it completely.
He tried to keep the pain inside, but it was like trying to keep a wild beast caged, and she could almost see the beast tearing against his insides, ripping him apart in the urge to be free.
"I just...I'm depressed." The claws had made their mark on his throat, his voice raw and ragged from the wounds.
"Oh, Doctor." She went onto her tiptoes to kiss that drenched cheek, but he drew away.
"I'm not..." He shook his head, trying urgently to stop this from happening, but he could do nothing to prevent it. "I'm not in the mood."
"No, you're in a mood," she told him, smiling playfully, trying to put balm on his aches. "All the more reason."
He stared at her, and she felt her stomach drop, as she felt the familiar fear that he didn't love her like a wind sweep over her.
"You've got me." No matter what, she wouldn't give up on her Doctor.
"And what else have I got?" The words exploded out of him forcefully, the beast howling, raging against him. She could do nothing but stare. This was unexpected. He'd obviously regretted his words, worked to check the animal within. "Martha, I...I try to list everything that I have left, and do you know what? The list stops with you. I say Martha and then my mind goes blank." He finally turned to her, let her see the ancient agony deep within his eyes.
"You have the TARDIS," she began, and he smiled sadly.
"Martha, it's bad enough I don't...I don't even want to travel. I don't want to do anything. I just...I want to turn into a statue. Let the stone steal away my pain, the thoughts that hurt, the consciousness that only brings torment."
She blinked, aware of what that meant to him. "Doctor," she finally began, aware that she had to say something, "I would do anything to make you happy. Anything at all."
His smile grew, just slightly, however bittersweet, as the rain began to fall from his eyes.
He finally began moving again, leading her back toward the blue box standing in the distance, his hands in his pockets. This time she did link her arm through his, but he barely reacted-again.
"Maybe I should take you to UNIT," he mused, voice beginning to heal from the terror inflicted.
She stopped in her tracks. "Are you taking me home?" She couldn't bear the thought of leaving him, not again.
"No!" he turned to look at her, wide-eyed astonishment and horror conflicting on his face. "No, I just thought...well, you know, it's been forever since I've visited them. And I'm pretty sure they probably need my help. They always do. And I thought...I could show you. What it's like, at the beginning."
He stepped into the console room, breathing in a deep breath, letting the tension flow out of him, softly letting the beast escape. She smiled. He was still out of sorts, but at least he was looking better than he had. And he relaxed even further when the familiar groaning filled the room...
They stepped out of the TARDIS doors, and instantly they were in the thick of trouble.
The first thing that hit Martha were the screams, like a physical barricade. She saw the body lying on the ground next-although after a second she realized that the man (probably) wasn't dead and still could be saved. She then followed the Doctor's gaze to what looked like a nearby factory. "That looks like trouble," the Doctor murmured, itching to go there-toward the sound of the screams.
"I'll stay here, Doctor. You go help out." She was already moving to the man's side as she spoke.
"You're not going to disappear on me, are you?" he asked.
At first, she was going to answer playfully, but then realized that while his eyes weren't serious, his face was. "Of course not. Not while you're this depressed. I think that'd bar me from ever getting a PhD, losing a patient like that." She glanced up at him and smiled, a gesture that filled him with warmth despite himself. "I'll be here," she promised.
"Cheerio," he responded, and began moving, running in that silly way he always did.
She shook her head, turning her attention back to her new patient. "Oh, Doctor," she whispered.
The Doctor was secretly grateful for the chaos. It was calming, in a strange way. Here, in the eye of the storm, he was able to think the best. His own troubles were far away, and he had to concentrate on the here and now. He knew Martha worked the same, only with helping those hurt, and he loved her for it.
It wasn't all that hard to find the Nerve Centre. A bit of logic, some sonicking, and a couple signs did the trick. When he ran into the room, panicked technicians were scurrying around smoking consoles and equipment, trying desperately to stop whatever was going wrong.
"I can help. Just trust me," he yelled above the din, trying to get them to calm down. He slid into place at the master console, running his fingers through his hair. "What's the _____?"
"____", a technician answered without thinking, reacting to the authority in his voice.
"Ooh, that's not good. That means the pressure's high enough it'll blow this place around the countryside for twenty miles if we don't stop it." He cracked his knuckles deliberately and reached out to the keyboard in front of him, fingers flying.
"Stand up, and put your hands behind your head." A familiar voice cut through his victory, and he slowly turned the chair around. "Hallo, Sergeant Benton," he stated, almost in a kind of relief. If he was going to get shot, he supposed that dear old Benton wasn't a bad one to pull the trigger. He'd certainly hate to be killed by a madman. Never mind the fact that Benton was one of the few who'd be more likely to listen to what he was saying.
"What are you doing here?" The question was more than a little bit scared, and the Doctor realized that more was going on here than the surface impression.
"He helped save us," a researcher put in, but he was ignored.
"Take me to the Brigadier," the Doctor suggested helpfully.
Martha reacts as a UNIT soldier...and she didn't realize that Lethbridge-Stewart and the Doctor were good friends.
Rating: Teen
DISCLAIMER: Again, Doctor/Martha isn't a thing.
Summary: Not the most cringiest, but not great. Mostly archiving here. Depressed Doctor and Martha and UNIT. Blanks left for technobabble I hadn't figured out yet.
"Don't let me go off on my own," The Doctor stated, staring off into the distance, barely acknowledging Martha's presence as the toiled up the headland to join him.
"Why?" Martha smiled at him, gently establishing herself by his side. She would have linked arms with him, but something told her not to.
He didn't smile at her, just kept staring off into the distance. He didn't even reply, instead letting the silence speak eloquently for him, harsh and bitter as the chill of the winds.
This time she drew closer to him, pulling him to her side. He barely reacted, but this close she could see the wet streaks on his face that he'd hastily wiped away with the back of a sleeve.
"Doctor, what's wrong?" she asked gently, knowing that if her touch was just a little too harsh, he would fracture, lose it completely.
He tried to keep the pain inside, but it was like trying to keep a wild beast caged, and she could almost see the beast tearing against his insides, ripping him apart in the urge to be free.
"I just...I'm depressed." The claws had made their mark on his throat, his voice raw and ragged from the wounds.
"Oh, Doctor." She went onto her tiptoes to kiss that drenched cheek, but he drew away.
"I'm not..." He shook his head, trying urgently to stop this from happening, but he could do nothing to prevent it. "I'm not in the mood."
"No, you're in a mood," she told him, smiling playfully, trying to put balm on his aches. "All the more reason."
He stared at her, and she felt her stomach drop, as she felt the familiar fear that he didn't love her like a wind sweep over her.
"You've got me." No matter what, she wouldn't give up on her Doctor.
"And what else have I got?" The words exploded out of him forcefully, the beast howling, raging against him. She could do nothing but stare. This was unexpected. He'd obviously regretted his words, worked to check the animal within. "Martha, I...I try to list everything that I have left, and do you know what? The list stops with you. I say Martha and then my mind goes blank." He finally turned to her, let her see the ancient agony deep within his eyes.
"You have the TARDIS," she began, and he smiled sadly.
"Martha, it's bad enough I don't...I don't even want to travel. I don't want to do anything. I just...I want to turn into a statue. Let the stone steal away my pain, the thoughts that hurt, the consciousness that only brings torment."
She blinked, aware of what that meant to him. "Doctor," she finally began, aware that she had to say something, "I would do anything to make you happy. Anything at all."
His smile grew, just slightly, however bittersweet, as the rain began to fall from his eyes.
He finally began moving again, leading her back toward the blue box standing in the distance, his hands in his pockets. This time she did link her arm through his, but he barely reacted-again.
"Maybe I should take you to UNIT," he mused, voice beginning to heal from the terror inflicted.
She stopped in her tracks. "Are you taking me home?" She couldn't bear the thought of leaving him, not again.
"No!" he turned to look at her, wide-eyed astonishment and horror conflicting on his face. "No, I just thought...well, you know, it's been forever since I've visited them. And I'm pretty sure they probably need my help. They always do. And I thought...I could show you. What it's like, at the beginning."
He stepped into the console room, breathing in a deep breath, letting the tension flow out of him, softly letting the beast escape. She smiled. He was still out of sorts, but at least he was looking better than he had. And he relaxed even further when the familiar groaning filled the room...
They stepped out of the TARDIS doors, and instantly they were in the thick of trouble.
The first thing that hit Martha were the screams, like a physical barricade. She saw the body lying on the ground next-although after a second she realized that the man (probably) wasn't dead and still could be saved. She then followed the Doctor's gaze to what looked like a nearby factory. "That looks like trouble," the Doctor murmured, itching to go there-toward the sound of the screams.
"I'll stay here, Doctor. You go help out." She was already moving to the man's side as she spoke.
"You're not going to disappear on me, are you?" he asked.
At first, she was going to answer playfully, but then realized that while his eyes weren't serious, his face was. "Of course not. Not while you're this depressed. I think that'd bar me from ever getting a PhD, losing a patient like that." She glanced up at him and smiled, a gesture that filled him with warmth despite himself. "I'll be here," she promised.
"Cheerio," he responded, and began moving, running in that silly way he always did.
She shook her head, turning her attention back to her new patient. "Oh, Doctor," she whispered.
The Doctor was secretly grateful for the chaos. It was calming, in a strange way. Here, in the eye of the storm, he was able to think the best. His own troubles were far away, and he had to concentrate on the here and now. He knew Martha worked the same, only with helping those hurt, and he loved her for it.
It wasn't all that hard to find the Nerve Centre. A bit of logic, some sonicking, and a couple signs did the trick. When he ran into the room, panicked technicians were scurrying around smoking consoles and equipment, trying desperately to stop whatever was going wrong.
"I can help. Just trust me," he yelled above the din, trying to get them to calm down. He slid into place at the master console, running his fingers through his hair. "What's the _____?"
"____", a technician answered without thinking, reacting to the authority in his voice.
"Ooh, that's not good. That means the pressure's high enough it'll blow this place around the countryside for twenty miles if we don't stop it." He cracked his knuckles deliberately and reached out to the keyboard in front of him, fingers flying.
"Stand up, and put your hands behind your head." A familiar voice cut through his victory, and he slowly turned the chair around. "Hallo, Sergeant Benton," he stated, almost in a kind of relief. If he was going to get shot, he supposed that dear old Benton wasn't a bad one to pull the trigger. He'd certainly hate to be killed by a madman. Never mind the fact that Benton was one of the few who'd be more likely to listen to what he was saying.
"What are you doing here?" The question was more than a little bit scared, and the Doctor realized that more was going on here than the surface impression.
"He helped save us," a researcher put in, but he was ignored.
"Take me to the Brigadier," the Doctor suggested helpfully.
Martha reacts as a UNIT soldier...and she didn't realize that Lethbridge-Stewart and the Doctor were good friends.
