Current mood:

sleepy

Fic: First day
Title: First day
Author: dune_drd
Rating: PG
Notes: Huge thanks to my beta xwingace, who betaed these 700 words in record time again
Fic Masterlist: Here.

This is my Marthathon entry for aervir, who wanted:
1. Martha meeting Rose (gen),
2. Martha/former-female-companion femslash (anything up to a mild R-rating),
3. Martha and the Doctor geeking out over some of the more obscure or absurd aspects medical science together.

I fear I couldn't get much slash or Rose into this, sorry. Hope you still like it




This had to be, Martha reflected, the worst day of her life.

"You think 'It's my first day here' is a good excuse for blowing up a hospital?" she screamed, turning to take another look at the burning building behind her. She didn't quite catch the response of the man running in front of her, (it would be smug at best, judging from what she’d seen so far) because she tripped and found herself in a world of pain instead of answers.

This day was just textbook Murphy.

She wondered what the odds were of finding someone in the morgue who was not only not dead but would be trying to eat her brain as soon as the moaning corpse realized that he was in fact not only undead but hungry as well.

She must've hit her head this morning and was perhaps comatose. She really hoped she was. Somehow she was sure 'blew up a hospital' wasn't going to sound very positive in her CV.

"I think I twisted my ankle." She sat up and rubbed her foot, frowning. "I can't believe I twisted my ankle."

The stranger in his odd pinstriped suit squatted beside her, sighing like a very, very old man. "You have no idea how often that happens to people."

"Ligamentum talofibulare..." She let out an annoyed gasp when she pressed a spot right below her ankle. "... anterior. Definitely the perfect part to tear when running for your life."

"Ah, I wouldn't be too sure." He said, probing her ankle, too. "The tendo achillis might disagree."

So he was definitely a doctor, with the hands of a surgeon. Good. After Grace she wasn't too sure she could ever take anyone without that kind of precision again. The smile shared between them vanished as soon as the second explosion burst out of the basement windows, lighting up the night sky.

Right, no time for this. And this man was probably not the best to think about dating, he had been the one to propose burning the building down completely, after all. She preferred her men a bit more mentally stable.

"Can you walk?" the doctor asked her and already pulled her to her feet. Martha bit her lip.

"Damn, I never knew formaldehyde burned so well." She stood straight marvelling at the familiar smell wafting towards her, forgetting her damaged foot just for a second too long. Her face crumpled with pain.

"I hate human anatomy, " she mumbled.

The stranger turned, offering his shoulder to lean on, a mad smile and a burning hospital lighting up his eyes. The next few meters were shared in silence, the roaring of fire and distant sirens making a proper conversation nearly impossible.

"Were those really zombies?" she blurted out nevertheless.

"You don't believe me?" The man looked insulted. Yep, he was definitely insane, she thought.

"Zombies?"

"DNA mutation by viral infection. Yes, zombies."

She snorted, causing her living crutch to frown. Right, never anger a lunatic. Beat him at his own game instead.

"You have any idea how complex the RNA of a retrovirus would have to be in order to cause a massive phenotype change like this? It would have to be..."

He finished the sentence for her, "... alien?" She was hating his smug grin already. How was she going to get rid of that lunatic? She had the suspicion if she didn't she might end up axe-murdered in one of the backstreets.

"Tell you what," the stranger said, rummaging through his coat and producing a key, "why don’t you come to my place, Martha Jones?"

This was, Martha Jones thought while trying hard to think of a way to run away with only one foot intact, definitely the worst day of her life.