Word Count: 762
Spoilers: All of Series 1 and 2, and the first episode of series 3.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all its stuff belongs to the Beeb. Not me. Them.
Summary: The Doctor is still missing Rose and trying to move on. Martha wants to help but knows she can't push him...
The TARDIS was hovering. Not like a bird, flapping its wings as it tried to defy gravity. The ship was paused in-between Time and Space. Its occupants hadn’t decided where to go and here seemed just as good a place as any. It revolved slowly but apart from that, it was completely still.
On the inside, its passengers were equally stationary. Martha, the Doctor’s latest companion, was asleep in a room three sizes the one that she had in her flat on Earth and about ten times the size of the police box the TARDIS appeared to be. The covers were pulled up to her neck and her hands gripped the edge tightly. She knew that here, in the Time and Relative Dimension in Space, she could not be hurt but this was how she had always slept. It was a safety blanket, in this case as physically as it was metaphorically.
The Doctor was in the main control room of his ship but he wasn’t attending to the navigational column as he usually did. He was leaning against one of the spines that connected the deck to the ceiling, a Polaroid photograph in his hand. It was a picture of himself and Rose Tyler, both laughing, as they stood on the cliffs of
It was true that Martha had helped fill some of the space that Rose had left. He wasn’t so alone any more; he had someone to talk to, to laugh with. It wasn’t just him and his thoughts anymore, which meant he had less time to think of Rose. When he did think of her, he felt worse though: how could he forget about her, about wonderful, lively, beautiful Rose? Day by day, he began to think of her less as he and Miss Jones fought off new evil and battled to save the day. True, he had never thought of Martha in a romantic way - she was an amazing friend but nothing more – he sometimes had the notion she wanted more. And with the Doctor, notions usually turned out to be true.
At times like this, where he looked at pictures of her, he felt worst. He would remember their times together, their laughs, their loves. He remembered seeing her for the last time, on the beach in
“Who is she?” A voice broke through his silence. He looked up to see Martha in a blue dressing gown and fluffy slippers. He smiled at her; he never would have guessed.
“Is it Rose?” she asked tentatively. She knew very little of his previous companion but what she did know was that they had been very close. The first time she had joined him he had stated very clearly that: “You are not replacing her.” That hurt, a little.
“Yes,” he said, his voice hollow. “This was one of our last times together.” Martha moved closer to him and laid a hand softly on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” The words were simple but they lifted the Doctor’s two hearts a little.
“Thank you, Miss Jones.” He looked down at the photo one last time and then stuffed it back into his suit pocket. His smile turned into a wide grin, his eyes sparkled and he jumped forward towards the control column. “Now, Miss Smarty-Doctor-Woman; where do you want to go today?”
Martha smiled shyly, looked down and then walked up towards the deck. She squinted her eyes in concentration and then said, “
The Doctor grinned again. “