Current mood:	headaches from hell
Entry tags:	fic, fic: dw

Fic: Everything Old
Title: Everything Old Is New Again
Characters: Ten/Martha
Summary: He hates starting from scratch again, he realizes, and he won't.
Words: 1044
Rating: None
Notes: Vague spoilers for the Shakespeare Code. Many thanks for my lovely beta xwingace, who was, as always, such a great help.
Fic Masterlist: Here.



Everything old is new again... except the old thing's getting really old.
- John Crichton


Tomorrow, he'll send Martha home.

He doesn't need another companion, doesn't need this doctor-in-training who stumbled into his life by accident.
Martha is clever, asks the right questions, yet everything still echoes with the memory of Rose. Martha doesn't yet know when and why he won't answer. He doesn't ask her to get changed in 1599, fearing what kind of dress the TARDIS would offer her. He doesn't need to be reminded of the effects it had on him last time.

And it's just this one trip anyway. She's not a companion, she's merely a passenger.

He hates starting from scratch again, he realizes when she marvels at the psychic paper, and he won't. He can't. He's alone in this, she just happens to follow, even onto a flea-infested bed. A tiny part of his mind - that part vaguely acquainted with human behaviour - acknowledges that she's trusting him too much already. He stares past her beautiful brown eyes, willing his thoughts away from what they are offering. This is futile, because tomorrow he'll send her home.

In the morning they run from another Queen, laughing when he closes the door and sends the TARDIS on her way again. It's routine, too painful, too familiar. He stares at the console until she's off to brush her teeth.

Just one more trip, she begs, and he nods. Tomorrow he'll send her home, but he owes her. He thinks she likes the adventure. When she stands too close to him he moves away, suspecting she's attracted to the unknown, the danger. That never ended well before.

She asks about Time Lords and he keeps quiet. It's best not to go there again.

It's always just one more trip, just one more adventure. He guesses she chooses a room somewhere, but he never tries to find out. Humans are obsessed with beds and he'll let her rest for a bit. Tomorrow it'll be over, he tells himself. Tomorrow he can be alone again, like he prefers. But today he'll show her another wonder of the universe.

He takes her hand and she follows.

She asks about Rose, but he doesn't answer. There's too much to say, and he doesn't know where to start.

When she wanders off on distant worlds, he tells himself he doesn't mind and doesn't care. She'll be back, because she knows he's her only ride back. He's not afraid to lose her because she's not a companion, just a passenger. Well. Maybe a little more than that. He doesn't know how to describe her anymore.
She's always back in time to help him save the day, to ask him how he's done it. It makes him smile, but it tastes bitter.

She asks him why, but he just takes the pink hoodie she found in the wardrobe, hiding it somewhere Martha will never find or wear it again. It still smells of Rose. His ship is cruel sometimes.

On Hyaluron, somewhen in the 54th century, he watches from the shadows as they shackle her. She's surrounded by too many guards and he can't help her. He watches as they take her away. She'll be executed at dawn.

His fists clench. Tomorrow he wanted to send her home, but tomorrow Martha Jones will be executed, her mind torn from her body. Because they think her guilty of starting a revolution. A revolution he caused by blowing up an Ion Cannon. Martha disagreed with his plan (Rose would've simply grinned; Rose had no idea what ionizing radiation did to organic tissue), but she still made sure he could flee. And now she's confessing to his crimes. They'll never even look for him now. Stupid, stupid ape.

His fingernails break the skin of his palms, ancient rage rolling through his mind. Something inside him stirs, something he thought he closed away long ago, and he runs. He has to save Martha, save his companion.

Finding her is easy: the first building to burn in a revolution is - as usual - just the place he's looking for. Getting to her takes time, and he feels the seconds run through his fingers, his hearts beating faster, fearing every minute he loses. He finds her in a cell not much bigger than her slender frame.

For the first time he makes the effort to look at her, searching for the reason she made this sacrifice when she owed him nothing. But her eyes are empty. She has seen too much in this prison, he realizes when he gazes into the other cells, things no one - especially not a doctor - should see. They made her watch what she faced.

"I didn't think you'd come" she says, her voice hollow, resigned. He's ready to tell her different, but then he realizes that she simply doesn't know different yet. He swallows, knowing that he probably wouldn't have started looking for her before morning had the circumstances been different. She would've been dead by then.

It scares him more than he's ready to admit.

He scoops her up in his arms, carries her to safety, back to the TARDIS. She's rigid in his arms, doesn't even ask about the revolution happening around them.

He takes her to the med bay, cleaning away the grime and the fear. He hugs her tight once he makes sure there're no physical injuries. He suddenly realizes he never held her in his arms before, only now understanding how much they needed this. Her hands slowly close around him, and he can feel her thinking the same thing.

"Thank you," she whispers when he finally lets her go and makes her lie down. He sees a spark return to her eyes, for the first time feeling how much it warms his hearts. She doesn't expect him to answer; her eyes, heavy with exhaustion, close slowly.

He takes her hand and stays until she's asleep.

He pushes a strand out of her face, tugs it behind her ear. Tomorrow he won't send her home, tomorrow he'll show her around on the TARDIS, have some breakfast before they decide where to go.

He knows just the place she'll love.

The TARDIS hums, gently singing her ancient song and listening to her master, finally not alone anymore.