for [livejournal.com profile] handysparehand: A day in the life.

Oct. 18th, 2008 03:59 pm
martha_jones: ([text] you kill me miss jones)
[personal profile] martha_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.

Date: 2008-10-18 08:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
He wanders into the living room. Fresh out of the shower. Fresh and new and clean and still a little sleepy. The day is fresh and new as well. He has decided on willing it into a good day.

He's decided he's in a good mood today. He's practically bouncing. Smiling. Happy.

"Morning," he says.

His hair is still a bit damp. He was too lazy to dry it, and it's falling flatly, unstyled and a little messy. Water still drips a little, and he wipes away a drop from his forehead.

"What are you up to this early?"

He flops down on the sofa beside her, leaning forward towards the coffee table, examining whatever it is she's doing.

The wedding. He nearly forgot about that. It seemed a little early to be sending out invites.

"Wedding invites all ready?"

He tries to act like he's expressing interest, doing his best to hide away the resentment underneath those words. He's not entirely sure how good a job he's doing. He still keeps the smile from a few minutes ago plastered to his face.

Date: 2008-10-18 08:22 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imnot-hisgirl.livejournal.com
"They're for Tom's friends overseas," she said, licking an envelope and sealing it. "They're going to need a good deal of time before the wedding to make arrangements to get here. I think Dad's going to help put them up in a hotel, but we're not even sure how many will show. Can you hand me that pen over there?"

The names were in blue, the address itself was in black. It made it look classier, in Martha's opinion.

"Don't worry, I'm sure I've got your invite somewhere under here. It may take a few more weeks to get the local ones out. And according to Mom, eight months until a wedding is like a week if you don't plan it right."

Date: 2008-10-18 08:29 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
He leans over and grabs the pen. Handing it to her. Wordlessly. Watching her work. Licking the envelopes and writing it all out. The chaos of papers somehow seeming to have some kind of order.

He was rubbish at weddings. This one wasn't any different. Or maybe it was entirely different.

He watched her working, and he was half hoping his invitation would get lost in the shuffle.

He leaned back on the sofa, away from the wedding. Away from that stupid bride on the cover of that stupid magazine that was sitting on the table yesterday. It had been moved to the floor to make room for the invites and envelopes and various items. The bride on the cover still stared up at him. Blonde hair and blue eyes and looking stupidly happy.

Weddings were for idiots, and Martha was not an idiot. Yet there she was, wasting her time shuffling through cards and envelopes and different color inks.

He had half a mind to tell her his thoughts on the matter. But he kept his mouth shut. Trying to recapture that good mood from five minutes ago.
Edited Date: 2008-10-18 08:31 pm (UTC)

Date: 2008-10-18 10:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imnot-hisgirl.livejournal.com
She sealed a few more envelopes and checked off names off of a long list. This wedding was going to be too big. There was going to be too much pressure and she could already feel her toes tingling like she was ready to run. Run off with Tom somewhere else to have a quick, fun wedding. Or maybe just "be together" for a while.

"Tom said you can be the third groomsman," she said, straightening the pile of envelopes and clicking her pen shut. "The vest design is Avriar, but I can get it cut a little thinner for you. And it'll be red, the bridesmaids are wearing red. Tish insists she can wear something different, being the maid of honor and all, but that's not what Mum wants, and you know how she can be..."

Martha sighed and leaned back on the couch with him. It was relaxing, moving away from the piles she still had to work on. Even if it was just for a minute.

Date: 2008-10-18 10:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
He watched the process. Lists and envelopes and cards and sealing, and he wished he was brazen enough to just flip the table over and watch all the invites scatter away. Falling out of order and getting wrinkled and bent and absolutely ruined.

He won't of course.

He'll just sit back, still holding onto that stupid smile. A remnant from when this day felt fresh and new. Listening to her ramble on.

Except she's telling him he can be in the wedding. Tom said he could. Isn't that good of Tom?

"And your mum would want me in the wedding?" he says.

Deciding it would be easier to make her mother the bad guy than admit he'd rather jump off a building than be Tom's groomsman and her semi-bridesmaid, and some weird in between party to Martha and Tom's wedded bliss.
Edited Date: 2008-10-18 10:52 pm (UTC)

Date: 2008-10-18 10:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imnot-hisgirl.livejournal.com
"Well, there are some things she doesn't have an opinion on," Martha said. "She picked the food we're catering and the flowers and my hairstyle, but Tom and I get to pick the wedding party." Beat. "As long as Leo and Tish are in it."

Which wasn't so bad, really. Tish was as close to a best friend as Martha had, except maybe for Nameless, but he would look silly in the red dress she'd picked out. The very idea made her chuckle, even as she leaned back up to fill out a few more addresses.

"Oh, that and the Doctor is not invited. Mum's afraid something will blow up if he shows up. And, knowing him, it probably will. Besides, the day's not about him, and you know he'd make it into something that was."

That did feel a little strange. Complaining to Nameless about the man he was. She added an aside:

"No offense. You're different."

Date: 2008-10-18 11:01 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
He feels a bit like the floor has been pulled out from underneath him. Yeah, they talk about the Doctor. But more in vague terms. Nothing as specific as He's not getting invited to the wedding.

He sometimes forgets that He is just a phone call away.

The smile is gone, and he doesn't feel like pretending anymore. He feels a bit badly for Tom for a split second. Guilted into including him in the wedding party. He wonders if he had someone he wanted there with him, part of the day. Someone who had to be sidelined to make room for Martha's strange friend.

"I don't want to be in the wedding."

He says it without emotion. Simple fact.
Edited Date: 2008-10-18 11:02 pm (UTC)

Date: 2008-10-18 11:04 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imnot-hisgirl.livejournal.com
Martha laughed. "Yeah, sometimes I feel like that too. Two more dress fittings and I'm still going to have over a hundred people staring at my arse as I walk down the aisle. And depending on the height of my heels, I'm probably going to trip, or something will go wrong..."

Did she remember to put the food choice slip in that envelope? She needed to pay closer attention. She split it open to check and sure enough, she did. Well, she had about eighty more envelopes than she needed anyway.

Date: 2008-10-18 11:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
It was frustrating. Speaking and not being heard. He pulled himself off the couch, sitting down beside her, looking her in the eyes. Begging her to actually acknowledge what he was saying.

"You're not hearing me. Martha, I don't want to be in the wedding. Not just sometimes. Not just today. I don't want to be in the wedding. Ever."
Edited Date: 2008-10-18 11:10 pm (UTC)

Date: 2008-10-18 11:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imnot-hisgirl.livejournal.com
She didn't understand. Why wouldn't he want to be in it? She'd argued with Tom on several occasions just to make sure he could be in it. Not that Tom was much on arguing. Just a lot of cold shoulders. But it meant a lot to her, he'd said, so he would. He'd just have to make up a name to tell his parents when they asked.

"All right," she said, still confused. "Why?"

Was he nervous? Was he embarrassed? Was the wedding going to be too big? It was probably because the wedding was going to be so big.

Date: 2008-10-18 11:17 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
"Because. Because you never even thought to ask me before you made this decision. Because I don't want to be some obligation that you force on Tom. Because....Because of a lot of things."

He stood up. Moving away from the table and the invites. Stepping on the stupid blonde bride on the stupid magazine cover.

Date: 2008-10-18 11:21 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imnot-hisgirl.livejournal.com
"I'm not forcing anything on Tom," Martha said, more than a little offended at the idea. Even more so because it was sort-of true. She didn't like being called out on it.

She got to her feet as well and crossed her arms. "Tom doesn't mind. His supervisor is one of my bridesmaids, so it's a good swap." She really, really didn't want Jessica as her bridesmaid, if for no other reason than she constantly flirted with Tom, even though he was oblivious. It just irked Martha.

"And I thought you'd want to. Sorry for not asking, should I have written up a formal request of your time for that day?"

Date: 2008-10-18 11:29 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
"Maybe you could have just said, 'Hey, want to be in the wedding?' Apparently I'm not even allowed to make choices that simple."

He crossed his arms as well. Defensive. Annoyed. Wanting nothing more than to run away. He didn't need Martha. He didn't need to be her groomsman-bridesmaid hybrid thing. He didn't need her flat or UNIT or those invitations with their two colored ink.

"And what's with the black and blue? Can't you just choose one color? It looks ridiculous!"

He wasn't sure if that was true or just being said to hurt her. But at the moment that black and blue bothered him more than anything else.

Date: 2008-10-18 11:35 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imnot-hisgirl.livejournal.com
"So does your hair, though it's obvious you didn't spend all morning making it look nice. So stop it!"

She hated that he was acting like this. Her morning had really been just fine until he came downstairs. And even the first few minutes of that weren't so bad. Until...this!

But the brides magazines (one of which had a wet footprint on it) did say that sometimes friends can get jealous because they're not the ones getting married. Oh, of course. This was it.

"It's Rose, isn't it? Not getting married to Rose, so you're jealous that I've got Tom, am I right? Well you can just stop that now, I've got too much planning to do!"

Date: 2008-10-18 11:39 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
He opened his mouth to say something. Nothing came out. It was infuriating. He didn't even know where to begin to respond to her. She had left him completely speechless.

She was so blind. And it would never stop. Ever. Months of this under his belt. With no end in sight.

He threw his hands up in the air.

"I can't do this anymore," he said, laughing ruefully.

He went to the spot near the front door, grabbing his shoes. Grabbing his coat. Needing to be as far away from Martha as possible.

Date: 2008-10-18 11:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imnot-hisgirl.livejournal.com
"Where do you think you're going?" Martha demanded, crossing the living room. "You're not leaving."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. This wasn't the first time he'd threatened to leave and she doubted it would be the last. When the Doctor was under duress, he made a break for it. That part of the Doctor was still in Nameless, it appeared.

"What am I supposed to do if you don't tell me what's wrong?" She was surprised to find herself shouting at him. Her and Tom never argued like they did. When she argued with Tom she was a bubbling angry that eventually passed. When she argued with Nameless she felt like her body had undergone a physical ordeal.

Even now, her chest hurt.

Date: 2008-10-18 11:48 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
"I did tell you what was wrong! And you just..."

He shook his head. It wasn't even worth having this argument. It would never go anywhere. Just round and round in a vicious circle. Never stopping never starting. Constant. Too constant.

He hopped on one foot, as he pulled on his other shoe. Grabbing his coat. Moving around her towards the front door.

Freedom waiting for him on the other side.

Terrifying, lonely freedom.

Edited Date: 2008-10-18 11:48 pm (UTC)

Date: 2008-10-18 11:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imnot-hisgirl.livejournal.com
"What, you don't want to be in the wedding? Fine! You don't have to be! But you can't just leave! You're my responsibility!"

No, no, it was more than that. Her chest felt tighter. She didn't know what was out there in the world or how he'd react to it. He was so unpredictable.

"You don't have any money or anywhere to go! You can't leave."

She padded barefoot after him and tried to place herself between him and the door.

"Doctor, don't go!"

Date: 2008-10-19 12:06 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
"I don't want to be your responsibility!"

He didn't. The entire idea was humiliating and demeaning. It was painful. Being kept out of nothing more than obligation she felt for another Man.

"I can manage," he said. His hair was still too wet. He wished he had some socks. But he couldn't back down now. He'd look childish. Foolish. Some spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum.

He hesitated with the door knob. Terrified of really running. Really opening the door. Truly and honestly being completely alone.

His hand turned the knob, the door opening a crack and spots of sunlight lit the room. He still hesitated not quite ready to move outside. Watching and waiting and hoping she'd give him some excuse to stay.
Edited Date: 2008-10-19 12:07 am (UTC)

Date: 2008-10-19 12:11 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imnot-hisgirl.livejournal.com
She pushed her hand against the door to shut it.

"Stop it!" she shouted. "Stop doing this! You don't have any reason to be angry at me, I haven't done anything but wanted you in my wedding. Sorry about that, didn't realize it would make you want to run away."

This was so stupid. Where would he go? He wouldn't leave, not really. This was a stupid bluff.

She took a step back and crossed her arms.

"Fine, go. Go on, have fun out there. Find yourself another Rose. I'm tired of this."

Date: 2008-10-19 12:19 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
His expression softened. Wanting him in her wedding wasn't so bad, was it? It meant she cared a little, at least.

He started to think to say something. Maybe I'm sorry.

Except she stepped away. There was a huge amount of space between them.

Fine, go.

She'd said it more or less a million times. And a million times he managed to stay. Except now was the million and first time. And he couldn't make a habit of this. He hated her a little for a moment. She couldn't just give him one reason to stay.

"Fine, I will!"

He opens the door roughly. Slamming it shut loudly behind him. He considers pausing for a moment. Waiting for her to open the door, tell him to come back inside. But that's just pity. He doesn't need her pity.

He doesn't need anything from her. He's fine on his own.

He bolts down the steps, unsure which direction to go or where he should head. He chooses right. It seems as good a direction as any. He has his coat and shoes and the clothes on his back and wet hair and that's enough.

Who needs Martha Jones soon to be Milligan?

Date: 2008-10-19 12:22 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imnot-hisgirl.livejournal.com
Oh, he got out the door this time. That was different. Almost precious. Her stupid responsibility will just walk around the block and come back, just like she did when she was young and mad at her mother.

Martha tapped her foot and waited for the door to open. Any minute now. Any minute.

What if he wasn't coming back? What if he was serious? She pulled open the door just as roughly as he did and ran barefoot down the cold steps. He should be within eyesight, right? Where was he?

What did she just do?

Date: 2008-10-19 12:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
He continued walking, hands stuffed in pockets. Not paying attention to where he was going or what he was doing.

He felt around in his pockets. They were almost completely empty. He had a matchbook, five pound note, a pack of gum, and a couple pieces of trash.

And that was it.

She was right. He didn't have anything.

He stopped, taking in his surroundings. Not able to remember the turns he took to get to where he was standing now.

He thought he might be lost, and the idea was thrilling. Maybe she would never find him. Maybe she would worry her little head off. Cancel the wedding. Explain to the Doctor how she lost her charge.

Date: 2008-10-19 12:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imnot-hisgirl.livejournal.com
She fretted around her flat. Called Tom. Left a voicemail. Made coffee. Called Tom again. Left another voicemail.

Where was Nameless? Why wasn't he back yet?

She took a breath, flipped through the address book on her phone and dialed.

"Hello, Doctor? It's Martha. I need your help."

Date: 2008-10-19 12:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] handysparehand.livejournal.com
He found his way to a bus terminal, and he's not even sure how he ended up there. He sits down for a moment. Unsure what he should do next. Where he could go.

His eyes travel up to the board flashing all the destinations. All the places a bus can take you. And right on the board, staring him in the face is Chiswick.

A bus stop away. A £3 bus trip away. He had more than enough for that. Maybe it wasn't all as hopeless as he thought.

It's not as if he would say anything to her. He would just check in. Make sure she was doing all right. No side effects. That's all.

Plus, there was that pub that had the Quiz Nights as well. He was brilliant at quizzes.

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