martha_jones: ([text] the year that never was)

All my troubles seemed so far away,
Now it looks as though they're here to stay,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

I'm not half the man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

It's very cold.

It's very cold and she's having trouble sleeping.

It shouldn't be this cold out, but she hasn't slept like this before, curled up in the sewer and desperately fighting the urge to cry.

She's stronger than this. She knows she is.

Yesterday, she would've said she could do this. Yesterday, she would've looked straight in the eye of anyone who questioned her and said Yes. I'm not afraid of anything the universe has to throw at me.

But today, the universe threw it at her.

It threw it hard.

And now she's alone.

Yesterday, it would've seemed like it was no big deal. She was irritated with the Doctor anyway, for getting them into this situation, for stealing the rest of her chips. But the warehouse and the cold there wasn't nearly as cold because they were together. They kept each other warm. It was a cold shared.

She doesn't know what's going on up there. She doesn't know how badly Saxon is hurting them. She doesn't even really know if they're alive (Except Jack, he can't die and that makes her even more afraid for him).

Yesterday, she'd have said she could do this on her own.

Today, she isn't sure.

She pulls her jacket closer around herself and tries to find sleep.

Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 217
martha_jones: ([nameless] behind emote)
You have to accept he's not coming back.

You don't want to, but it's been so long now, you really don't have much of a choice.


Once upon a time, you thought you'd never be rid of his affections. They weren't warranted, but you certainly weren't oblivious to them. It was like that light that never went on in the Doctor went on for him from the moment the Doctor dropped him at your doorstep.

It's kind of sweet, in a way. He reminds you of yourself, a long time ago, and maybe that's something you need. You need to see yourself the way you were, because the way you are isn't always the best you could be. You were better before, even if you were hopelessly in love with a man who never saw you. He's like that, now. He may not be in love with you, but he cares about you even if you're in love with Tom.

He looks at you as you practice your wedding day makeup and you're left wondering what he's thinking when he sees you. )

Muse: Martha Jones, MD
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,269
Based on RP with [ profile] handysparehand (but not binding to RP!), special thanks to that mun for reading this over!
martha_jones: ([nameless] walking side by side)
Now, Martha doesn't know when Nameless's birthday is, so she picks a day which may or may not coincide with the one year anniversary of [ profile] handysparehand's journal, to leave him a package on the kitchen table.

I know it's not really your birthday, but I didn't feel like waiting until the sign of crossed computers or whatever to give you this. I hope you like it.

What is inside the box... )
martha_jones: ([suit] o rly?)
You're far too comfortable to move.

Not yet.

Sure, your Mum tells you that you should buy a larger flat, or a house, and make it perfect for yourself and Tom. That's what couples do, that's what she and your Dad did, that's what Leo and his girlfriend would do if his girlfriend would just be like any normal girl and marry him.

But your flat is safe. You can stand by the side window and know with absolute certainty that if someone was shooting at you outside, you could duck under the window and hide. And your front door has all the locks you've installed, and your bedroom door sticks just enough that only you and Tom can push it open without too much effort. You know the handle of the door and you know how to shift your arm and throw your weight into it, so you know without doubt that your bedroom is safe.

Your home is safe. Your carpet is plush and soft beneath your feet and the closeness of the walls is a tight, comforting feeling. It's not vast, like the TARDIS, or the world.

And what about Nameless? You ask your mother. You can't just tell him to leave, he's got nowhere to go!

What about him? Your mother demands back. He's not your husband, he's not even really a person. He's certainly not good for you, like Tom is.

He's my friend, you reply. There's a note to your voice that implies, to your ever-so-nosy-mother, that he's just your friend. Sure, in the heat of a very tense moment you and he have shared an idiotic kiss, but it was nothing Tom can't forgive. When you tell him. Which will be soon.

Just not yet.

And no, the bedroom Nameless is in at the moment wouldn't really make a good nursery, but you're not married yet, much less ready for children. What would you do with them, anyway? It's not as if you have time to take care of them. And Tom, well, Tom's a constant but absent presence in your life. He isn't ready to be a steady parent. Tom might tell you he is, but he isn't. He isn't.

The world like you know it isn't the sort you want to bring a child into, either. Cut for mild spoilers to Torchwood: Children of Earth. )

Muse: Martha Jones, MD
Fandom:Doctor Who
Word Count:1,387
based on RP with [ profile] handysparehand
martha_jones: (Default)
Private post, please be constructive with your criticism! Comments screened.
martha_jones: ([glamour] =D)
Threadhopping with this character - yes/no/maybe so?:
No, please. Exceptions are totally all right, just PM me or drop an OOC comment.

Backtagging with this character - yes/no/maybe so?:
Yes, please.

Hugging this character?:
Of course!

Giving this character a kiss?:

Punching this character:
Yes! Though, she'll probably punch back!

Is there anything ought not be mentioned near this character?:
Anything can be mentioned, though certain things will evoke certain emotions, naturalement.

Is there anything you need us to know about interacting with this character? Special physical features, fighting abilities, STUFF:
Um! Um! She is awesome! Very pretty, but somewhat standoffish.

Anything else, please mention here:
I like you.
martha_jones: ([text] you kill me miss jones)
Following this.

When she woke up, she was surrounded by white. It was like waking from a dream in a cloud. Her body felt weightless, calm. She blinked and tried to focus. She was in a small, round room with bone-white walls and lying in a soft-fur bed as white as the rest of the room. Martha's dress had been replaced by a white tunic and skirt and her knee had been bandaged.

She put her hand to her leg. It didn't hurt.

Where was she? Where was Nameless?

A thin creature that looked as though it were made out of glass stepped into the room and raised a hand. It spoke to her in low, calm tones, but Martha couldn't understand it. After a moment, it gestured to a bowl of food, then turned and left.
martha_jones: ([emote] what's that supposed to mean?)
Companion piece to this brilliant story by [ profile] savagestime.

First, do no harm.

She hates him.

She hates every moment of being around him. She washes her hands and scrubs the dirt underneath her nails away but she can never quite clean up the blood. He watches her with those small, piercing eyes. Like slivers of glass, they glitter and cut.

He looks at her as if he's waiting for her to speak. She won't. She's just his doctor, she's just doing her job. But she isn't going to speak. Not to him. Not to Saxon.

He'll always be Saxon to her, no matter how many times the Doctor corrects her and tells her he's the Master. He's not her Master.

"Oh, yes, question the name why don’t you, everyone else does!" he says, brightly. This is something Martha has come to expect of him. When she doesn't speak like he wants her to, he talks as though she's spoken. Responds as though she's still talking, still asking the questions he wants to hear. It would be disconcerting if she wasn't certain he was completely and utterly mad. She rolls her eyes and grabs the blood pressure monitor. He extends his arm without protest.

"You know, people don’t question the Doctor’s name half as much as they do mine, and his is just as arrogant, if not more so. Hello, ‘the Doctor’? He doesn’t even know medicine! Not enough that he could save a man’s life – thanks for that, by the way – and he hardly has the demeanor of a doctor. If I had a doctor like him, I’d have fired him ages ago."

His eyes glitter again. 'Lucky that I get you, isn't it?' )

Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,569 not including lines from the Hippocratic Oath
martha_jones: ([ten] how to save a life)
Describe two moments in which your life took a turn, where on the one side, you were one person, and on the other side, someone new.

Whenever it happens, it feels like the first time.

They're on the blasted desert near India. Martha doesn't speak Arabic and the TARDIS is too weak from the paradox machine to translate, but she has Davi with her. Davi isn't really his name, he says, but she wouldn't be able to pronounce his name anyway. He wants to help and he gives her water and holds her hand and translates her stories.

He tells her she's his friend, but she won't tell him he's hers. Her friends die in the Master's world.

But Davi is not going to die. She's not going to let him die, even as he drops from the shot of a Toclafane. It doesn't see Martha and scurries away. They always hurt the ones she cares about and leave her alone.

She runs to Davi's side. He starts shaking and coughing. There's blood everywhere.

It feels like the first time. )

Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 903
martha_jones: ([text] the year that never was)
Ministers spread the Word. They go from place to place, person to person and tell them what they know of the Word and give others the belief they need to continue living. It requires persistence, patience, and unwavering faith.

In that way, Martha is a minister. Only the Word Martha spreads is "Doctor" and her congregation is the whole of humanity.

And right now, she's spreading the word of the Doctor to a huddled group of survivors in a bunker in Australia.

Above them, nuclear fallout is destroying what was left of their country. Children sit motherless in a circle at her feet, families hold small ceremonies before radioactive bodies are unceremoniously thrown from the shelter.

If Martha's faith wasn't so strong, if she wasn't so certain, then she isn't sure she could keep telling the story she's telling.

"And then, right when the Bard himself couldn't figure out what to say, the Doctor exclaimed 'Expelliarmus!' which just so happened to fit into the rhyme perfectly---"

The kids at her feet whoop with excitement. There's a copy of Harry Potter somewhere between them and they've all taken turns reading it to each other since Martha found it above and brought it down.

The kids love this story about Shakespeare and the witches. The parents love it, too, and Martha's had her tellings of lines corrected so often she's gotten used to saying it wrong, just to make sure her audience is truly listening. Sure, she's removed herself from the climax of the story, but that makes the Doctor more of a hero. And what they need right now is a hero.

She's learned a lot about telling stories. Martha was never the storyteller of her group of friends, she often left that position to her eternally-in-P.R. sister. Tish always knew where to raise her hands and where to pause for drama. When she first started telling her stories, she would imagine she was her sister and the stories would come out as a fairly bad parody of Tish's usual performances.

But people need the stories. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 2,687
For [ profile] handysparehand who has been requesting The-Year-That-Never-Was ficlets
martha_jones: ([tom] side by side)
It's been 155 days since the Daleks stole Earth.

Tom remembers that day well. He remembers the cold, sunny day in Southern Africa suddenly plunged into terrifying darkness. He remembers holding frightened children and telling them everything would be all right. He remembers telling them a story Martha told him once, about a man who could turn back time and bring the world back to right. He'd come, Tom promised the children, the Doctor would come and bring the stars back.

He remembers sitting around a makeshift fire, trying to get some sort of signal to New York. He remembers praying---for the first time in how many years now?---that Martha was all right. She had to be all right.


The buildings shook, patients screamed, bedpans toppled over and catheters fell out as the Earth was put back to right. Just like he said it would. Tom remembers that even as they pulled themselves from the ground, the people around him cheered for the sunshine.

He's on the eighteenth plane to leave. He should've been much, much later, but he refuses to stay, not when he's always put everyone else first before this. It takes a week, but he gets home, back to London. He doesn't stop off at his mother's house, he rushes right to Martha's. Her phone is still going straight to voicemail, and if he can't get ahold of her---

He darts up the stairs and throws open the door and almost walks directly into him. It's the man Tom's seen in pictures Martha's shoved into boxes and under cabinets, pretending he doesn't exist anymore.

"The Doctor?" Tom asks.

"No." He, he being the man who looks like the Doctor, looks startled to see him. He's in a blue suit with red trainers and he's standing in the doorway, more than a bit dumbfounded.

"Tom!" Martha darts to the door and grins. He loves that smile of hers, the one that's a little surprised but thoroughly pleased. It melts away quickly and turns into something like embarrassment.

"This is…a friend of mine." She takes Tom's arm and leads him up to the bedroom---sorry, her bedroom, as the office now has its own futon, being his bedroom.

This is when Tom learns that the day Earth was returned to orbit, the Doctor made a choice and left Martha with him, this half-human clone without a job, home, or anything else.

"He's got nowhere to go," Martha tells him. "He'll stay here a few weeks, get himself together, and be off. Nothing's different."

He believes her because he's never had any reason not to believe her.

He goes back downstairs and shakes the hand of this nameless man, the one who will be Martha's flatmate for a while. Tom had thought he'd sweep in, take her into his arms, and forget about the world falling apart. Now, standing there in muddy red trainers, is a personification of everything that happened to the world.


I love you. )

Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 2,036
Based on this post and extra special thanks to your hero, my co-conspirator, [ profile] handysparehand!
martha_jones: ([nameless] walking side by side)
Under the tiny artificial tree in Martha's flat is this gift for Nameless that has no nametag. There is a little note that says:

Merry Christmas
Love, M

What is inside the box... )
martha_jones: ([nameless] smith & jones blue)
A very, very special thank-you to [ profile] handysparehand for gifting Martha with paid time and icons. You're the best! Even Martha thinks so (though she's more likely to get surly and argue rather than agree!)
martha_jones: ([nameless] smith & jones blue)
The train ride was comfortable, and surprisingly quite relaxing. Martha had a few drinks at the food cart and watched the world whiz by as she ran from what she knew into the life of an outlaw. Only for a little while, though. Just long enough for UNIT to sort out their mistakes and Sir Alistair to fix what was going on with Stryker. She had faith in that.

Then a trip to Bangkok afterwards. She did promise. And she'd always wanted to go.

Then back to her normal life. As normal as it was. And getting her dress exchanged and invitations sent out. She wanted to live a normal life.

"Thanks, just make sure you get that info to the Brigadier as quickly as you can," Martha said. Seven more seconds until the trace would be complete if UNIT was tracking Tom's phone. "And remember, tell Mum I'm all right. I've got to go. I love you, too."

She hung up the payphone and sighed. He sounded worried. She told him he had nothing to worry about, she was with Nameless---and if she had more time, she'd have given him a few words about texting her that name, but she didn't. For some reason, that made Tom more nervous. He just didn't know Nameless like she did. They'd be all right together, better off than they would be alone.

She went back from the phone near the bathrooms to the street where Nameless was waiting for her. She didn't want to worry him with her conversations, he was too excited to be traveling.
martha_jones: ([text] you kill me miss jones)
It made sense to have him stay at her flat. Tom wasn't over a lot and if she wanted some alone time with him she could always go to his place. And the not-Doctor she'd taken to calling "Nameless" in her head needed somewhere to stay.

It wouldn't be so bad. And he was like the Doctor in a lot of ways and she lived in the Doctor's home for a long while. It wouldn't be so different.

She scribbled another address on an envelope and stuffed an invitation inside. Bride Monthly suggested at least six months preparation for overseas and long-distance travelers. A lot of Tom's mates were overseas with his relief projects, so she had a lot of envelopes to fill.

She tried to tell Tom she'd have been just as happy with a few mates and a bottle of champagne. But he wanted to make sure she was noticed, so she could have the big wedding. Her mother certainly didn't mind. If nothing else, it made her like Tom more.

Tish wanted to know when they were moving in together. And what she was going to do about "Him".

She didn't know. And as she sealed yet another envelope, she didn't care. She had too much on her plate to think about things like that.
martha_jones: ([emote] doctor jones)
In some ways, Martha preferred the night shift. Everyone wanted the morning shifts, wanted to be in and out at a reasonable hour, but Martha liked the midnight to noon shifts, liked seeing the world that most people missed. Everyone slept the night away and missed helping people when they were at their most vulnerable. When she became a proper doctor, she was going to request the later shifts always, because someone should. Someone should care.

Of course, the morning afterward was always tiring.

And despite what the medical books said on the matter, coffee really did keep her going from about 10 am to 12am. And as long as she properly hydrated herself, that could offset the effects of the caffeine.

She grabbed another cup from the stand near the entrance and started to head back towards her rounds when something caught her eye. Were those press vans outside? It had been a long while since Royal Hope had a celebrity in their beds. Oh, she'd probably hear all about it from Tish later. How she just missed the big things like celebrities in favor of the little things like patients.
martha_jones: ([text] wonder what i've been doing wrong)
It was all a bit rushed through, really.

The paperwork, the exams. They all seemed so much easier and so much less daunting than she remembered them. Of course, UNIT insisted that she be pushed through ahead of the other waiting doctoral candidates, and who would argue with them? It seemed like no time at all passed until she was stepping out of the ceremonial building, a fully qualified doctor.

She thought it would feel different, she supposed. Being a doctor rather than an intern. But no, no. It still felt the same. She just had a bit of paper that said she was Dr. Martha Jones, now. She took a breath and stepped outside for a bit of fresh air. The party inside was a little overwhelming.
martha_jones: ([words] save the doctor)
I'm Martha. Martha Jones.

This is my livejournal.

This place has got to be better than MySpace.
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