Current mood:	lonely
Entry tags:	fic, fic: dw

Fic: The Lost Room
Title: The Lost Room
Summary: Things get funny when a dimensionally transcendent time ship suffers from PTSD
Characters: Jack/Martha, Ten
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for Last of the Time Lords
Rating: None
Word count: 1528
Notes: Written for tw_wotd_fic's prompt 'Discursive'. Betaed by the wonderful xwingace and a terribly late Christmas present for all the people on my flist who asked for happy!fic in their wishlists. I didn't know I could still do sweet. Comments are love.
Fic Masterlist: Here.



Only those who attempt the absurd will achieve the impossible. I think it's in my basement... let me go upstairs and check.
- M.C. Escher

---

"So, why are we in this closet again?" Martha sighed, her annoyance obvious, her fury somehow less impressive than usual due to her stripy (and very pink) pyjamas.

"Hey, don't blame me, I was on my way to the kitchen when you ambushed me in here," Jack answered, for once certain it wasn't his fault.

"Did not!" Martha crossed her arms, unintentionally ramming one of her elbows into Jack's side. He gave her a look, but the small space they were currently trapped in made moving without touching almost impossible. Not that he would complain.

"I was on my way to bed, but when I opened the door I found myself in here," she gestured at the blank wall in front of them, "without any way out. Then you come in, don't even spot the flailing girl and shut the magically appearing door behind you again."

He gently put his hands on her arms, stopping her from any further angry gesticulating. He really didn't want her to break his nose. Non-lethal injuries took a while to heal, and that was a painful one. And ugly.

"I think," he said, trying to come up with a conclusion to their dilemma, "that the TARDIS wanted to protect us from something." He rubbed his chin, calculating the odds in his mind. He knew fairly little about dimensionally transcendent time ships and their moods, especially time ships with PTSD after imprisonment and improper handling. Things like that just weren't on the Academy curriculum.

"Maybe there's a dimensional displacement going on outside and she wanted us safe," he said, running his hand over the smooth wood of their unusual prison.

"Like in a bubble?"

Jack nodded. Her explanation was as good as his. They needed to find the Doctor quickly. Last time Jack'd seen him the Time Lord had been busy tinkering in the control room again, trying to undo more of the Master's damage. Maybe their current situation was a whole new problem the Doctor knew nothing about yet, and Jack had no idea what this kind of malfunction could do to the integrity of the ship.

They really needed to get to the console room.

As if on cue, the outlines of a doorway shimmered into existence before them, the door suddenly appearing out of thin air.

"How did you do that?" Martha gasped, but Jack shrugged. He'd only thought about it. Then again, maybe that was the answer. After all, the TARDIS was telepathic. He grabbed the simple bronze door handle and pushed the door open. Relieved, he stepped into one of the innumerable TARDIS corridors -- to find himself in a dead end.

"What is it?" Martha asked as she stepped out of the closet, unconsciously shutting the door behind her. Despite his fears, the door didn't fade again, but they were still trapped.

"There has to be a way out of this. There has to be something in here that we can use," he muttered to himself as he opened the nondescript door to the closet again. Instead of the store room, however, he suddenly found himself in the TARDIS' workshop, countless pieces of machinery and tools littering every horizontal surface. He frowned and paused in the doorway. Martha peered over his shoulder and instantly his confusion was mirrored in her face.

"Something we can use..." Martha repeated thoughtfully, grabbing the handle and closing the door to the erstwhile closet now turned workshop.

"Open it again," she said, nervously fiddling with the lapel of her pyjamas. He obeyed, and found himself staring at the seemingly endless TARDIS wardrobe, the spiral staircase usually connecting this room with others ending in the ceiling.

The penny finally dropped. "Seems like the TARDIS sends us to a room that we think of," he said, and Martha nodded as he closed the door to the wardrobe again, leaving them standing in the corridor. It seemed funny, but the closed off paths between rooms made him fear for the integrity of the ship. Huge parts had apparently become unstuck, leaving the rooms free-floating and without connections, with the TARDIS trying to keep them inside and safe. They really needed to find the Doctor.

"Just... think of the console room," he said, closing his eyes and concentrating on the vaulted ceiling, the cluttered console and the mad Time Lord tangled in between wires and fuses. Jack opened the door and sighed when instead of metal grating he spotted thick carpet, a tiny sofa and the faint smell of candles coming from inside. Well, it would've been impossibly lucky if their first try had worked.

"Oh," Martha blushed deeply as she recognized the room, staring at her pyjamas. "That was my fault."
Jack laughed. "Martha Jones, under any other under circumstances I'd be flattered if you tried to get me into your bedroom," he grinned, before closing the door again.

"One more time," he breathed, concentrating again, opening the door once more. This time it was embarrassingly obvious whose fault this room was. The Doctor's boasting about recreating rooms from companions' memory suddenly seemed less absurd. Martha stared inquisitively at the various dials and monitors of his old Chula space ship, the tiny bunk conspicuously illuminated in faint red light.

"The talk about bedrooms confused me," he scratched his head and Martha thumped him jokingly. "Try to keep focussed," she laughed, closing the door for him. She pushed it open as soon as the lock had latched, only to slam it shut instantly. He only got a vague impression of flames and smoke, grateful he didn't have to witness what she'd remembered. He wrapped her into a tight embrace and waited for her to stop shaking. Some nightmares were still too fresh, he knew.

"Focus," he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before releasing her to turn the handle again. She steeled herself, only to reveal a room they both knew too well.

"The kitchen?" He instantly recognized it as the one in her small apartment back in London, minus windows or another door.

"Sorry, thought about a nice cuppa," she smiled weakly, staring longingly at the kettle that was already hissing. But they had more important things to do first, and he gently shut the noise of boiling water out.

"Okay, this time it'll work," he said, opening the door one swift movement.

Only to look at himself.

"Now that's weird," the two Jacks said, trying to touch each other but sliding past, the space/time displacement causing a weird mirror effect just a bit too much for a human brain to grasp. Behind them, both Marthas rolled their eyes as the men ogled each other. "The only man you'd ever be happy with," the women said and gave each other a quick smile before they grabbed their respective door handles once more.

The lock shut with a soft click, one Jack and one Martha slumping against the wooden door that clearly didn't offer an escape route.

"Console room obviously doesn't work," Jack sighed, rubbing his face. He refused to think about the possibility that the ship was already lost, but he had no desire to share more intimate rooms with Martha.

There were too many bad memories lurking in too many places that resembled rooms.

"Maybe it's not strong enough," Martha suggested, dragging him to his feet again. Jack thought he knew what she wanted to say. He had an idea and followed through, grabbing her hands and resting his forehead against hers. He thought of that pin-striped lunatic who had no idea how lost his companions were, and who would probably tear his ship apart if he had. The little smirk on Martha's lips showed that she was thinking something quite similar.

"Doctor," he whispered, and felt Martha reach out for the door handle.

"Oi, is Jack trying to snog you again?" the familiar voice mocked through the doorway, and Jack mirrored the bright smile Martha gave him.

"He's just jealous," he mouthed while the Time Lord continued jumping around the console, pulling levers and staring at readouts.

"Good that you're here," the Doctor looked up when Martha and Jack finally joined him, "the internal user interface is shorting out slowly."

He twirled his Sonic Screwdriver, obviously displaying his impressiveness. "But I just figured out how to fix it, so don't. Go. Anywhere." He was in full Time Lord mode, not noticing the smile both humans shared when he turned his back once more.
For someone so impressive, he could be terribly thick sometimes. Muttering about humans and their tendency to wander off, he strode towards the door to the rest of this ship and threw it open. He then halted in mid- sentence and mid-stride as he caught sight of the room beyond.

"Oh," he simply said, scratching his head at the sight of Martha's bedroom.

"Well, Doctor, what could that possibly mean?" Jack asked innocently, trying very hard to hide the smirk that threatened to become a very indignant giggle as he spotted Martha's beautiful blush.

The Doctor sighed, for once slightly embarrassed. "This might take a while," he said as he slammed the door shut, returning to the console.