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magicallawTitle: The Man in the Grey Pinstriped Suit
Author: Madge
Characters: Martha/Tom, Ten with brief glimpses of Jack and Wilf
Rating: PG
Summary: Martha may have been unsure of the suit at first, but she grew to love it.
Author's Note: Contains spoilers for the end of series 4. This started out as a Ten/Martha friendship fic (which it sort of is) but how could I ignore Tom? And yes, there is a wedding. Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ligia_elena for the beta.
UNIT seconded Martha to Torchwood for three months. That was six months ago, and they’re happy for her to stay. For now. Unfortunately not everyone feels the same.
“If you want to stay, just say so. I can always find work in Cardiff, it’s not a problem,” Tom tells her.
“No, there’s no need; I’ll be home soon enough.”
“You said that two months ago.”
“Yeah, but I can’t leave Jack without a doctor, can I? We are recruiting but it’s not like applying for any normal job.”
“I know. It’s just... Well, I’m struggling to see how we’re supposed to get married when you live in Cardiff and I live in London.”
They’ve had this conversation before, so all Martha can tell him is: “I’m coming home to you.”
“You better bloody be.” There’s a smile in his voice and Martha knows they’ll be all right.
“Or what?” she jokes with him.
“You know what,” is the best he can come up with, because he can’t really play the tough guy.
But it works because he can hear that giggle that he fell in love with down the other end of the line.
Then he hears Jack.
“Martha, you’re gonna wanna see this.”
She sighs. “I gotta go.”
“You always do.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.” He knows she’ll come home.
Martha is at the opposite end of the hub from where the monitors are, and she takes her time walking over to the rest of the team. This better be good, she thinks to herself.
“What is it?” she asks as she approaches them.
“Take a look.” Jack makes room for her amongst the small crowd that has gathered in front of one of the computer screens. In front of the monument there’s a blue box and a man in a grey pinstriped suit standing in front of it, looking a bit lost. Martha laughs rather loudly when he spots the camera, throws his arms in the air and mouths something that looks suspiciously like, ‘How the bloody hell do I get in, then?’
“I’ll go,” she tells everyone.
+++
“Grey?” she asks him when she gets outside.
“What’s wrong with grey?”
“Are those pink pinstripes?”
“Salmon, Martha. They’re salmon, and yes, there is a difference.”
She suppresses a laugh and says, “I suspect you’ll be wanting a cup of tea.”
“Have I ever told you how clever you are, Dr. Jones?”
“Well, they don’t hand out medical degrees just for looking like this, you know.” She walks back towards the hub and gestures for him to follow her.
“You’ve been spending too much time with Jack; he’s beginning to rub off on you.”
She stops dead in her tracks, spins on her heel, raising one eyebrow at him at the same time.
“Way too much time,” he tells her.
+++
“Is that...?” Jack begins.
“It’s salmon... Apparently,” Martha tells him. She takes a moment and then continues: “It’s a bit... eighties, isn’t it?”
“Martha, if you are slating a decade that brought you Ultravox then we might need to re-evaluate our friendship.”
“Okay, okay. We’re loving the eighties. Got it.” She knows better than to argue with the Doctor over something as important as pop music so she leaves it there. They’re both laughing still, though.
Both Jack and Martha have figured out why he’s got the new suit, and he knows they have. He’s very grateful that neither of them says anything.
+++
“You know where I am, where we are,” Martha tells him two weeks later when the Doctor decides it’s probably time for him to leave.
“Oh yes.”
“It’s been fun this, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he smiles, “it really has. You’ll call me if –”
“World ending, alien invasion; you know, the usual. Yeah, I got it.”
“Or, you know...” If you want to, he doesn’t say.
“Yeah.” But she hears it anyway.
He goes to leave but he can’t before he does one more thing. “Oh, come here you.” And he picks her up and hugs her tightly. They both have ridiculous grins on their faces but neither of them care what they must look like to those passing by. He eventually puts her down and she watches as the TARDIS begins to dematerialize.
“Wait,” she shouts after him. “Doctor, wait.”
The TARDIS comes into full view again and he opens the door with a worried look on his face. “What is it?”
“You’re sure about the suit?”
+++
She doesn’t tell him that she’s coming back. Instead she just walks into the hospital, suitcase and all.
He spots her but thinks it will be more fun to play her game than to run up to her and throw his arms around her. “Yes, Miss, can I help you?” he asks.
“Yes, I was looking for a doctor.”
“Ah, I see. Any particular doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she points at one of Tom’s colleagues, “he looks kinda cute.”
“You’re really funny,” his voice full of sarcasm.
“I know,” she grins.
“So, how long you back for?” he asks after he’s spotted her suitcase.
And she says it: the one word she was taught never to say, the one word he hated. “Forever.” And she doesn’t care because she means it more than anything.
+++
Martha lives on the other side of London, but one night she got the bus and headed for Chiswick.
That was two weeks ago, and she’s been back every night since.
“What on Earth are you doing here?” Martha turns around to see Tom, who has crept up behind her.
“Ssh.” She covers his mouth and pulls him down into some stranger’s poor vegetable patch.
“You never said you were the... er, outdoor type?” he says with a smirk.
“What are you doing here?” she says and he can tell she’s a bit pissed off.
“Lying in a bed of carrots with my fiancée and not a lot else, apparently. More importantly what are you doing here? I was driving down St. George’s and saw you walking up the hill. Let me guess: the attack of the killer cabbages, is it?”
“It’s nothing,” she tells him. “Let’s just go.”
“No, come on. What happened to no secrets? Who’s that old guy? I saw you watching him. Actually,” he peers at him slightly, “he does look a bit dodgy.”
“He does not. Look,” she sighs, “he knows someone – I mean he’s related to someone... Look, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go. Please?”
“Okay, okay. National security, blah blah blah, I get it. C’mon.” Of course national security has nothing to do with it, but she’s not quite ready to tell him that yet. He stands up, offers her his hand and guides her down the hill back to where his car is parked, even though he knows she is more than capable of climbing down herself.
When they get in his beat up old Corsa she remembers he never answered her question. “But why were you driving down this road? This is nowhere near work.”
“I know. But it’s commutable, don’t you think?”
“Commutable for who?”
“Us. When we live here.”
“What? Stop the car.”
“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
“We can’t live here, that’s what.”
“What’s wrong with Chiswick? Hey, I know the beer Chiswick stinks, but it’s got a great catchment area – ”
“It’s got nothing to do with the beer, and I don’t care about the catchment area, OK? I just... can’t.” She turns in her seat to face him, pleading now, because it’s too much of a risk. “Please.”
“All right,” he says eventually, his voice quiet. “If that’s what you want.”
She smiles and kisses him fully on the lips; a kiss that tells him, ‘Please, just trust me on this.’ So he does, and they drive off. She’ll tell him one day, one day when it hurts less.
Thirty seconds later, in the exact same spot Tom’s car was parked in, an old police box appears and out steps a man in a grey pinstriped suit, armed with a flask of tea, fully prepared to keep an old friend company as he gazes up at the stars.
+++
“So, what’s for dinner?” Tom asks in her ear as he walks up behind her and puts his arms around her middle.
“For some men, having a wife that saves the world would be enough. But you want me to cook as well?” she laughs.
“Oh, what. Saved the world today, did you?” Even though he’s sort of taking the mickey, he’s not surprised when she responds by saying, “Well, not exactly...”
“Fine,” he says, and walks off to the kitchen. He takes one look in the cupboards and is tempted to offer to go and get Chinese take-away instead.
Only he doesn’t have to because there’s a man in a pinstriped suit at the door and he’s got cartons full of special fried rice and chicken with cashew nuts in his hands. “I thought it was time I introduced myself,” the Doctor tells Martha.
She smiles at him. “You’d better come in.”
And it’s nice, Martha thinks. The three of them. Well, it’s the two of them, really, Tom and Martha, and one of him, the Doctor.
“I guess this means I’m invited to the wedding now.”
“You were always invited, Doctor. You knew that.”
“Well, it’s a bit more official now I’ve met the groom.”
“It would be an honour to have you there,” Tom tells him.
“Just do me a favour?” Martha asks him.
“I’ll give it a go.”
“Don’t wear your tux.”
+++
The whole day has been perfect and luckily for Martha, there isn’t an alien invasion for the entire weekend. She’s not entirely sure how that happened because the Doctor did in fact turn up in his tux.
“I bought it especially, so it’s new and shouldn’t have all that bad luck the old one had,” he tells her, somewhat defensively.
“Okay, just... Just stay out of trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me that, not today.”
“Sorry... Mrs Milligan.”
“That’s Doctor Milligan, actually,” Tom corrects him, from out of nowhere.
“Yes, of course it is. Congratulations,” he says as he shakes his hand. “Love the suit by the way. Now, if you’d both excuse me, I believe there is a Banana Daiquiri behind the bar with my name on it.”
“Care to dance, Doctor Milligan?” Tom asks his bride.
“I’d love to.”
There’s a man in a grey pinstripe suit holding Doctor Martha Milligan in his arms and dancing with her slowly. There’s a universe turning below their feet but neither of them can feel it. Not now.
Author: Madge
Characters: Martha/Tom, Ten with brief glimpses of Jack and Wilf
Rating: PG
Summary: Martha may have been unsure of the suit at first, but she grew to love it.
Author's Note: Contains spoilers for the end of series 4. This started out as a Ten/Martha friendship fic (which it sort of is) but how could I ignore Tom? And yes, there is a wedding. Thanks to
ligia_elena for the beta.UNIT seconded Martha to Torchwood for three months. That was six months ago, and they’re happy for her to stay. For now. Unfortunately not everyone feels the same.
“If you want to stay, just say so. I can always find work in Cardiff, it’s not a problem,” Tom tells her.
“No, there’s no need; I’ll be home soon enough.”
“You said that two months ago.”
“Yeah, but I can’t leave Jack without a doctor, can I? We are recruiting but it’s not like applying for any normal job.”
“I know. It’s just... Well, I’m struggling to see how we’re supposed to get married when you live in Cardiff and I live in London.”
They’ve had this conversation before, so all Martha can tell him is: “I’m coming home to you.”
“You better bloody be.” There’s a smile in his voice and Martha knows they’ll be all right.
“Or what?” she jokes with him.
“You know what,” is the best he can come up with, because he can’t really play the tough guy.
But it works because he can hear that giggle that he fell in love with down the other end of the line.
Then he hears Jack.
“Martha, you’re gonna wanna see this.”
She sighs. “I gotta go.”
“You always do.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.” He knows she’ll come home.
Martha is at the opposite end of the hub from where the monitors are, and she takes her time walking over to the rest of the team. This better be good, she thinks to herself.
“What is it?” she asks as she approaches them.
“Take a look.” Jack makes room for her amongst the small crowd that has gathered in front of one of the computer screens. In front of the monument there’s a blue box and a man in a grey pinstriped suit standing in front of it, looking a bit lost. Martha laughs rather loudly when he spots the camera, throws his arms in the air and mouths something that looks suspiciously like, ‘How the bloody hell do I get in, then?’
“I’ll go,” she tells everyone.
+++
“Grey?” she asks him when she gets outside.
“What’s wrong with grey?”
“Are those pink pinstripes?”
“Salmon, Martha. They’re salmon, and yes, there is a difference.”
She suppresses a laugh and says, “I suspect you’ll be wanting a cup of tea.”
“Have I ever told you how clever you are, Dr. Jones?”
“Well, they don’t hand out medical degrees just for looking like this, you know.” She walks back towards the hub and gestures for him to follow her.
“You’ve been spending too much time with Jack; he’s beginning to rub off on you.”
She stops dead in her tracks, spins on her heel, raising one eyebrow at him at the same time.
“Way too much time,” he tells her.
+++
“Is that...?” Jack begins.
“It’s salmon... Apparently,” Martha tells him. She takes a moment and then continues: “It’s a bit... eighties, isn’t it?”
“Martha, if you are slating a decade that brought you Ultravox then we might need to re-evaluate our friendship.”
“Okay, okay. We’re loving the eighties. Got it.” She knows better than to argue with the Doctor over something as important as pop music so she leaves it there. They’re both laughing still, though.
Both Jack and Martha have figured out why he’s got the new suit, and he knows they have. He’s very grateful that neither of them says anything.
+++
“You know where I am, where we are,” Martha tells him two weeks later when the Doctor decides it’s probably time for him to leave.
“Oh yes.”
“It’s been fun this, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he smiles, “it really has. You’ll call me if –”
“World ending, alien invasion; you know, the usual. Yeah, I got it.”
“Or, you know...” If you want to, he doesn’t say.
“Yeah.” But she hears it anyway.
He goes to leave but he can’t before he does one more thing. “Oh, come here you.” And he picks her up and hugs her tightly. They both have ridiculous grins on their faces but neither of them care what they must look like to those passing by. He eventually puts her down and she watches as the TARDIS begins to dematerialize.
“Wait,” she shouts after him. “Doctor, wait.”
The TARDIS comes into full view again and he opens the door with a worried look on his face. “What is it?”
“You’re sure about the suit?”
+++
She doesn’t tell him that she’s coming back. Instead she just walks into the hospital, suitcase and all.
He spots her but thinks it will be more fun to play her game than to run up to her and throw his arms around her. “Yes, Miss, can I help you?” he asks.
“Yes, I was looking for a doctor.”
“Ah, I see. Any particular doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she points at one of Tom’s colleagues, “he looks kinda cute.”
“You’re really funny,” his voice full of sarcasm.
“I know,” she grins.
“So, how long you back for?” he asks after he’s spotted her suitcase.
And she says it: the one word she was taught never to say, the one word he hated. “Forever.” And she doesn’t care because she means it more than anything.
+++
Martha lives on the other side of London, but one night she got the bus and headed for Chiswick.
That was two weeks ago, and she’s been back every night since.
“What on Earth are you doing here?” Martha turns around to see Tom, who has crept up behind her.
“Ssh.” She covers his mouth and pulls him down into some stranger’s poor vegetable patch.
“You never said you were the... er, outdoor type?” he says with a smirk.
“What are you doing here?” she says and he can tell she’s a bit pissed off.
“Lying in a bed of carrots with my fiancée and not a lot else, apparently. More importantly what are you doing here? I was driving down St. George’s and saw you walking up the hill. Let me guess: the attack of the killer cabbages, is it?”
“It’s nothing,” she tells him. “Let’s just go.”
“No, come on. What happened to no secrets? Who’s that old guy? I saw you watching him. Actually,” he peers at him slightly, “he does look a bit dodgy.”
“He does not. Look,” she sighs, “he knows someone – I mean he’s related to someone... Look, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go. Please?”
“Okay, okay. National security, blah blah blah, I get it. C’mon.” Of course national security has nothing to do with it, but she’s not quite ready to tell him that yet. He stands up, offers her his hand and guides her down the hill back to where his car is parked, even though he knows she is more than capable of climbing down herself.
When they get in his beat up old Corsa she remembers he never answered her question. “But why were you driving down this road? This is nowhere near work.”
“I know. But it’s commutable, don’t you think?”
“Commutable for who?”
“Us. When we live here.”
“What? Stop the car.”
“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
“We can’t live here, that’s what.”
“What’s wrong with Chiswick? Hey, I know the beer Chiswick stinks, but it’s got a great catchment area – ”
“It’s got nothing to do with the beer, and I don’t care about the catchment area, OK? I just... can’t.” She turns in her seat to face him, pleading now, because it’s too much of a risk. “Please.”
“All right,” he says eventually, his voice quiet. “If that’s what you want.”
She smiles and kisses him fully on the lips; a kiss that tells him, ‘Please, just trust me on this.’ So he does, and they drive off. She’ll tell him one day, one day when it hurts less.
Thirty seconds later, in the exact same spot Tom’s car was parked in, an old police box appears and out steps a man in a grey pinstriped suit, armed with a flask of tea, fully prepared to keep an old friend company as he gazes up at the stars.
+++
“So, what’s for dinner?” Tom asks in her ear as he walks up behind her and puts his arms around her middle.
“For some men, having a wife that saves the world would be enough. But you want me to cook as well?” she laughs.
“Oh, what. Saved the world today, did you?” Even though he’s sort of taking the mickey, he’s not surprised when she responds by saying, “Well, not exactly...”
“Fine,” he says, and walks off to the kitchen. He takes one look in the cupboards and is tempted to offer to go and get Chinese take-away instead.
Only he doesn’t have to because there’s a man in a pinstriped suit at the door and he’s got cartons full of special fried rice and chicken with cashew nuts in his hands. “I thought it was time I introduced myself,” the Doctor tells Martha.
She smiles at him. “You’d better come in.”
And it’s nice, Martha thinks. The three of them. Well, it’s the two of them, really, Tom and Martha, and one of him, the Doctor.
“I guess this means I’m invited to the wedding now.”
“You were always invited, Doctor. You knew that.”
“Well, it’s a bit more official now I’ve met the groom.”
“It would be an honour to have you there,” Tom tells him.
“Just do me a favour?” Martha asks him.
“I’ll give it a go.”
“Don’t wear your tux.”
+++
The whole day has been perfect and luckily for Martha, there isn’t an alien invasion for the entire weekend. She’s not entirely sure how that happened because the Doctor did in fact turn up in his tux.
“I bought it especially, so it’s new and shouldn’t have all that bad luck the old one had,” he tells her, somewhat defensively.
“Okay, just... Just stay out of trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me that, not today.”
“Sorry... Mrs Milligan.”
“That’s Doctor Milligan, actually,” Tom corrects him, from out of nowhere.
“Yes, of course it is. Congratulations,” he says as he shakes his hand. “Love the suit by the way. Now, if you’d both excuse me, I believe there is a Banana Daiquiri behind the bar with my name on it.”
“Care to dance, Doctor Milligan?” Tom asks his bride.
“I’d love to.”
There’s a man in a grey pinstripe suit holding Doctor Martha Milligan in his arms and dancing with her slowly. There’s a universe turning below their feet but neither of them can feel it. Not now.
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Date: 2008-07-21 09:28 pm (UTC)Yes, I rather like it too, and well, the Doctor does need a new suit now.
I'm glad you enjoyed the fic.