Word Count: 5117
Author's Summary: The Doctor needs Martha's advice about a new companion.
Characters/Pairings: Martha Jones, Original Companion, The Doctor (11th)
Warnings: Explicit Violence, Non-Con, Character Study, Drama, General
Recced because: Well, part of the rec is 'Lyricwritesprose'. I mean, anyone who has read her work will understand what I'm talking about. She is one of the most recced writers here (top ten, actually) - and for a good reason. She consistently (and absolutely) blows everyone away with her stellar work. She can write every Doctor, every Era flawlessly and with a style that puts you right there in the thick of it. A gorgeous writer and well worth reccing every time. But that's not the only reason I'm reccing at this point.
This is literally a 'history' fiction (in a manner of speaking). The Doctor not only goes back to see a Companion we have not seen since Ten's Era, but he brings someone only she can help. There are some shocking elements to this fiction - but then, there should be. With the turmoil going on in today's world - racial tension, profiling and horror being committed against people for the very fact their skin color isn't white - this fiction...fits. It tells us that our history (for all that it has changed), has only changed slightly. It is a good historical fiction. It is a fiction that is well worth the read for the characters, the remembrance of not-so-good days in the past. And how one little girl could be rescued (and just may do the same for others), by the man with a time machine and good intentions - even as he may not be equipped to handle everything the universe can throw at him. That's why he has friends. That's why he needs people to keep him steady and remind him that sometimes, he isn't the only one saving people. Though really, the bravest and best character here is the one the author created that this fiction is centered around. You will love her, feel for her, be proud of her. In the world she grew up in, life was sketchy and difficult and brutal - but she was a rock against it. There are a lot of reasons to recommend this fiction. I have barely scraped the surface (and likely, I have done so poorly) - but I could be here all day with all the reasons this fiction is a must-read and one that will change how you see the world and all of our places within it. But I will not do that. I will let you discover this for yourself. But as always, I will give you a small taste to get you going with this tale...
The man turned around, hiding a bit of her toaster behind his back.
He looked young. Or rather, he should have looked young. His face was maybe twenty-six or so. The personality animating it–wasn't. The smile he gave her was too complicated, layered with guilt and sympathetic pain underneath recognition and sheer joy to see her, and his eyes–weren't dark brown, which was disorienting, but they had that hint of endlessness that she remembered.
"Hello," the Doctor said. "Martha Jones."
"Oh," Martha said.
He blinked at her, then lifted his hand to his own cheek. "Oh, right, yes. New face, almost forgot. It's been quite a while, my time."
"I–" Am never going to see him again, fought with but you're looking at him, you know that, don't be silly. The irrational part of her cut back with, no, I meant the real Doctor, and Martha buried that thought as deeply as she could. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair, and it would hurt him. She shook her head. "Sorry. I realized it could happen, but it's still disorienting. To me." Asking how the Time Lords had coped with this sort of thing would be cruel at best. "Seriously, though, I'm glad to see you. Is something going to try to eat me in the next five minutes, or do you have time for tea? You do still like tea . . ." Was she babbling? She was babbling. Martha closed her mouth.
"With milk and sugar and biscuits. I have a sweet tooth again!" He gave her a giddy grin, the sort it was almost impossible not to smile back at even if you were trying to be serious. "And, no. No invasion. There were some Yrtrathins at the petrol station on the corner, but they were just lost scientists. Looking into the possibility of Yrtra-forming Titan, sent an away team to see why this planet was so noisy, radio . . . ish . . . ly speaking . . ." The last incarnation had talked even faster when he lost control of his sentences. This one waved his hands. And then noticed that he was still holding some essential component of her kitchen appliances, and put it in his pocket with the furtive air of a man who wanted everyone to know he absolutely wasn't doing anything furtive. "And they hit orbital detritus. One of these days you lot have to get up there with a giant broom. Well, I say broom. It's actually more like a net–anyway, I gave them a lift back to their survey ship, and I may now possibly be banned from all Shell stations in Great Britain, but much as I hate to disappoint the manager, I don't actually see that affecting my lifestyle. No, I–" He turned away abruptly, to fiddle with one of her drawers, and the animation drained out of his voice. "Came to ask a favor."
And was feeling guilty about it, Martha realized. Or–no. Feeling guilty about her, about all the tangled feelings and shared traumas between the two of them. And, knowing the Doctor, quite possibly beating himself up about all the wrong things, neglecting the ones that had actually been largely his fault. She made her voice deliberately softer. "What do you need?"
Ahhh, a wonderful, terrible, beautiful and perfect fiction. Please do tell her what you think. And let her know that her work is missed...