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Entry tags:
- doctor who,
- fic,
- jack,
- martha
Fic: Ways we are Altered (Doctor Who; Jack, Martha; PG/Gen)
I'm posting this quickly, before I can change my mind, faff with it some more and decide it sucks after all. Also, the last full-length Whoniverse fic I finished was last year's Big Bang, and I need to get back on the wagon. Or something. Also, this is noticeably not drabbles written from prompts *looks shifty* They're coming...
Unbeta'd, post-script to Last of the Time Lords, because if I wasn't a Genficcer, I think I'd probably be a Jack/Martha shipper.
Title: Ways we are Altered
Rating: PG/Gen
Words: ~1,680
Spoilers: Last of the Time Lords
Summary: Martha looked a little lost, surrounded by the belongings of a nine hundred year old pack-rat.
Ways we are Altered
There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.
Nelson Mandela
Jack swore the Doctor had moved rooms around from the last time he was here. There had been a bathroom at the end of the second hall on the left which now seemed to be a billiard room, and the room full of mannequins that had so freaked Rose out was now stuffed to the ceiling with toy trains. There was probably a story in that, but there was no way Jack was asking about it. He probably didn't have time for the answer.
He eventually found Martha in a store room, standing in the middle of a pile of boxes.
"Find what you were looking for?"
Martha jumped about a foot, and Jack held up his hands in apology. "Sorry," he said, letting her calm down a little before he came further into the room. "Looked like you were miles away already."
"Something like that." One hand still pressed to her chest, Martha turned back to the piles of things around them. "There's so much stuff in here."
'Stuff' didn't begin to cover it. There were cardboard boxes with labels on, more cardboard boxes with various handwritings on them, and yet more cardboard boxes without any notes at all. Packing crates were piled high with clear plastic boxes, and for every box that had a lid, there were more with things tumbling out of the top. One suitcase in the corner looked like it was about to burst, and it the end of the room seemed to be the door of a shipping container.
"I guess the Doctor's had time to do a whole lot of shopping," Jack said, his smile fading when he didn't get a response from Martha. She looked a little lost, surrounded by the belongings of a nine hundred year old pack-rat. "Did you lose something?" he asked, coming a little closer.
She started again, then gave herself a little shake. "Not exactly. Just thought I'd see if-" Instead of picking up where she'd left off, her gaze unfocussed again, and Jack got the distinct impression that she'd already forgotten he was there.
Carefully, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, knowing it was a stupid question. Neither of them – none of them – were okay right now. But it was the kind of thing humans asked each other and that the Doctor might forget about. They needed some human normality right now, him and Martha, and if it meant resorting to cliché, then Jack wasn't afraid to go there.
Martha gave him a small, sad smile and a distracted shrug, reaching up to pat his hand. "I will be." She looked away from him, at the pile after pile of boxes around them. "Do you think he ever throws anything away?"
"Well, it's not like he has to worry about running out of space." Wondering how on earth they'd find it, Jack asked, "Are you looking for something?"
Oh boy. Normally Jack saw these things coming, but he hadn't been ready for this. As Martha grabbed his coat, burying her face against his jacket, her shoulders heaving and her breath coming in huge gasps that seemed to make her whole body shake, he had a moment of complete blankness as to what he was supposed to do at this point. Apparently his instincts were still working though, because by the time he pulled himself together, he had his arms around her, and was gently stroking her back, supporting her as she cried.
It felt strange, hugging someone after so long, his arms free and his body pressed against hers. As he held her closer, he wasn't entirely sure who was comforting whom, although he was definitely sure that it didn't really matter. If he hadn't been caught so off-guard, he probably would have noticed sooner that the gasps weren't just for sobbing any more. Jack knew that sound, of someone caught between laughter and tears, and it never ended well.
Shifting so that he could get a better grip on her arms, he gently helped her stand up straight again, moving back a little himself to get a look at her. Martha shook her head, holding up her hand a little to try to stop him saying anything, but that had never worked on Jack in the past.
"Did you let yourself cry even once?"
It wasn't the question she'd been expecting, obviously. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted, and it took a year's worth of patience and self-control not to use his grip on her to pull her close and just kiss her. While Jack didn't doubt it would do both of them good, it wasn't what Martha needed at that moment. So he waited, feeling her get herself back under control, the muscles in her arms strong under his hands and her head lifting a little higher as she spoke.
"Only once. When I left."
That's what he'd thought. And because the next question was obvious, she answered it before he could ask, taking a deep breath and gently breaking his grip on her.
"I thought I'd better come back here and gather up my things, do some packing before we dropped you off." Wrapping her arms around her waist, she turned away from Jack, back to the heaps of boxes. "Only I got back here, and it turns out I don't really have anything, do I? There's some clothes I like, some decent shampoo, a few bits of jewellery, but nothing that's really mine. Either it was here already, or we bought it on some alien world out there. I didn't bring anything with me."
Huffing a laugh, Jack folded his own arms and watched her as she picked her way between an old tea chest and a stack of boxes taller than she was. "I get that," he said. "If it hadn't been for the TARDIS wardrobe, I'd still be wearing that damn shirt." He'd behind a whole lot more than clothes, what with one thing and another, but now was Martha's moment, not his.
She smiled a little, stepping over a heap of what looked like tissue boxes and coming to stand in front of him again. "I guess it means we always meant to go back, right?"
If she believed that, then she wasn't the Martha Jones that Jack had come to respect so much over the past year, but he figured they both needed a comforting lie about now.
"I guess so," he said, his voice hoarser than he'd meant it to be. "And this is where I get off." That had been what he'd come to tell her in the first place, expecting to find her up to her elbows in packing. Not that he'd left anything behind on the TARDIS either, any more than he'd arrived with anything.
"So this is goodbye." Her voice calm now, soft and soothing, Martha put a hand on his arm, moving close and looking up into his face with an expression that was all too readable, and all too tempting. Jack's hesitation had nothing to do with not wanting to complicate things with a friend - it didn't work like that anyway, not with Martha - and it sure as hell didn't have anything to do with the Doctor, waiting for them in the control room. It went against his normal instincts, and he wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't regret it later, but still, he held back.
He'd spent twelve months at the mercy of someone else's wants needs and demands, and the shadow of that wasn't going to pass for a while. For all that he was sure Martha wasn't aware of it, the look in her eyes was still far away, as though he could have been anyone. He understood a little of that - the need for someone, and it didn't really matter who - and it wasn't as though he didn't need the comfort himself, but not like this. He needed someone who could look him in the eye and know it was him, and right now, he wasn't going to feel guilty for being a little selfish.
With what he hoped was a regretful smile, Jack took half a step backwards, taking Martha's hands in his, and trying to ignore the disappointment on her face. It didn't change his mind, even if he did have a pang of regret, quickly replaced by a flash of anger. Good old Jack, can always be relied on for whatever you needed, whether it was a quick shag or sudden death. That wasn't fair on Martha, not at all, but somehow, he really wasn't in the mood any more.
"The Doctor's waiting," he said, knowing that wasn't an issue, not even slightly. The Doctor would wait for them, and wouldn't ask any questions. But Jack was ready to go, and unless he made the first move, he got the feeling that Martha was just going to wait him out.
With obvious reluctance, Martha nodded, letting go of his hands and turning back to survey the room one last time. "I guess I don't really need anything, do I?"
When she faced him again, she looked calmer, more like the Martha who'd walked around the world and right back onto the Valiant again. Her back was straight, her head was high, and as she wiped the last of the tears from her face, Jack didn't doubt that she was ready to take on anything out there. She was beautiful, and while there was a part of Jack soundly kicking himself for not taking the opportunity when it was right there, most of him was glad he'd let it go. Because when it came around again, it was going to be even better.
"Time to go," he said, holding out his arm and waiting for her to take it before leading the way back into the TARDIS and out into the world again.
A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.
George Moore
Unbeta'd, post-script to Last of the Time Lords, because if I wasn't a Genficcer, I think I'd probably be a Jack/Martha shipper.
Title: Ways we are Altered
Rating: PG/Gen
Words: ~1,680
Spoilers: Last of the Time Lords
Summary: Martha looked a little lost, surrounded by the belongings of a nine hundred year old pack-rat.
Nelson Mandela
Jack swore the Doctor had moved rooms around from the last time he was here. There had been a bathroom at the end of the second hall on the left which now seemed to be a billiard room, and the room full of mannequins that had so freaked Rose out was now stuffed to the ceiling with toy trains. There was probably a story in that, but there was no way Jack was asking about it. He probably didn't have time for the answer.
He eventually found Martha in a store room, standing in the middle of a pile of boxes.
"Find what you were looking for?"
Martha jumped about a foot, and Jack held up his hands in apology. "Sorry," he said, letting her calm down a little before he came further into the room. "Looked like you were miles away already."
"Something like that." One hand still pressed to her chest, Martha turned back to the piles of things around them. "There's so much stuff in here."
'Stuff' didn't begin to cover it. There were cardboard boxes with labels on, more cardboard boxes with various handwritings on them, and yet more cardboard boxes without any notes at all. Packing crates were piled high with clear plastic boxes, and for every box that had a lid, there were more with things tumbling out of the top. One suitcase in the corner looked like it was about to burst, and it the end of the room seemed to be the door of a shipping container.
"I guess the Doctor's had time to do a whole lot of shopping," Jack said, his smile fading when he didn't get a response from Martha. She looked a little lost, surrounded by the belongings of a nine hundred year old pack-rat. "Did you lose something?" he asked, coming a little closer.
She started again, then gave herself a little shake. "Not exactly. Just thought I'd see if-" Instead of picking up where she'd left off, her gaze unfocussed again, and Jack got the distinct impression that she'd already forgotten he was there.
Carefully, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, knowing it was a stupid question. Neither of them – none of them – were okay right now. But it was the kind of thing humans asked each other and that the Doctor might forget about. They needed some human normality right now, him and Martha, and if it meant resorting to cliché, then Jack wasn't afraid to go there.
Martha gave him a small, sad smile and a distracted shrug, reaching up to pat his hand. "I will be." She looked away from him, at the pile after pile of boxes around them. "Do you think he ever throws anything away?"
"Well, it's not like he has to worry about running out of space." Wondering how on earth they'd find it, Jack asked, "Are you looking for something?"
Oh boy. Normally Jack saw these things coming, but he hadn't been ready for this. As Martha grabbed his coat, burying her face against his jacket, her shoulders heaving and her breath coming in huge gasps that seemed to make her whole body shake, he had a moment of complete blankness as to what he was supposed to do at this point. Apparently his instincts were still working though, because by the time he pulled himself together, he had his arms around her, and was gently stroking her back, supporting her as she cried.
It felt strange, hugging someone after so long, his arms free and his body pressed against hers. As he held her closer, he wasn't entirely sure who was comforting whom, although he was definitely sure that it didn't really matter. If he hadn't been caught so off-guard, he probably would have noticed sooner that the gasps weren't just for sobbing any more. Jack knew that sound, of someone caught between laughter and tears, and it never ended well.
Shifting so that he could get a better grip on her arms, he gently helped her stand up straight again, moving back a little himself to get a look at her. Martha shook her head, holding up her hand a little to try to stop him saying anything, but that had never worked on Jack in the past.
"Did you let yourself cry even once?"
It wasn't the question she'd been expecting, obviously. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted, and it took a year's worth of patience and self-control not to use his grip on her to pull her close and just kiss her. While Jack didn't doubt it would do both of them good, it wasn't what Martha needed at that moment. So he waited, feeling her get herself back under control, the muscles in her arms strong under his hands and her head lifting a little higher as she spoke.
"Only once. When I left."
That's what he'd thought. And because the next question was obvious, she answered it before he could ask, taking a deep breath and gently breaking his grip on her.
"I thought I'd better come back here and gather up my things, do some packing before we dropped you off." Wrapping her arms around her waist, she turned away from Jack, back to the heaps of boxes. "Only I got back here, and it turns out I don't really have anything, do I? There's some clothes I like, some decent shampoo, a few bits of jewellery, but nothing that's really mine. Either it was here already, or we bought it on some alien world out there. I didn't bring anything with me."
Huffing a laugh, Jack folded his own arms and watched her as she picked her way between an old tea chest and a stack of boxes taller than she was. "I get that," he said. "If it hadn't been for the TARDIS wardrobe, I'd still be wearing that damn shirt." He'd behind a whole lot more than clothes, what with one thing and another, but now was Martha's moment, not his.
She smiled a little, stepping over a heap of what looked like tissue boxes and coming to stand in front of him again. "I guess it means we always meant to go back, right?"
If she believed that, then she wasn't the Martha Jones that Jack had come to respect so much over the past year, but he figured they both needed a comforting lie about now.
"I guess so," he said, his voice hoarser than he'd meant it to be. "And this is where I get off." That had been what he'd come to tell her in the first place, expecting to find her up to her elbows in packing. Not that he'd left anything behind on the TARDIS either, any more than he'd arrived with anything.
"So this is goodbye." Her voice calm now, soft and soothing, Martha put a hand on his arm, moving close and looking up into his face with an expression that was all too readable, and all too tempting. Jack's hesitation had nothing to do with not wanting to complicate things with a friend - it didn't work like that anyway, not with Martha - and it sure as hell didn't have anything to do with the Doctor, waiting for them in the control room. It went against his normal instincts, and he wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't regret it later, but still, he held back.
He'd spent twelve months at the mercy of someone else's wants needs and demands, and the shadow of that wasn't going to pass for a while. For all that he was sure Martha wasn't aware of it, the look in her eyes was still far away, as though he could have been anyone. He understood a little of that - the need for someone, and it didn't really matter who - and it wasn't as though he didn't need the comfort himself, but not like this. He needed someone who could look him in the eye and know it was him, and right now, he wasn't going to feel guilty for being a little selfish.
With what he hoped was a regretful smile, Jack took half a step backwards, taking Martha's hands in his, and trying to ignore the disappointment on her face. It didn't change his mind, even if he did have a pang of regret, quickly replaced by a flash of anger. Good old Jack, can always be relied on for whatever you needed, whether it was a quick shag or sudden death. That wasn't fair on Martha, not at all, but somehow, he really wasn't in the mood any more.
"The Doctor's waiting," he said, knowing that wasn't an issue, not even slightly. The Doctor would wait for them, and wouldn't ask any questions. But Jack was ready to go, and unless he made the first move, he got the feeling that Martha was just going to wait him out.
With obvious reluctance, Martha nodded, letting go of his hands and turning back to survey the room one last time. "I guess I don't really need anything, do I?"
When she faced him again, she looked calmer, more like the Martha who'd walked around the world and right back onto the Valiant again. Her back was straight, her head was high, and as she wiped the last of the tears from her face, Jack didn't doubt that she was ready to take on anything out there. She was beautiful, and while there was a part of Jack soundly kicking himself for not taking the opportunity when it was right there, most of him was glad he'd let it go. Because when it came around again, it was going to be even better.
"Time to go," he said, holding out his arm and waiting for her to take it before leading the way back into the TARDIS and out into the world again.
George Moore