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magicallawAuthor: Madge
Title: What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger
Rating: PG - Warning: contains the word snot. Not nice.
Characters: Other!Ten, Rose, Alt!Martha
Spoilers: Blink and you'll miss them for Doomsday, quite blatant ones for Smith and Jones and huge ones for Journey's End.
Summary: What the Doctor needs right now is, well, a doctor.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
palmetto for the ficathon at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
bluesuit_fic. They wanted: He's never had the common cold before. Bonus points for pathetic!Sparky whining at Dr. Martha Jones in the ER.
Thanks toladymako71 for reminding me that Other!Ten needed moar Donna. Also, those not from the UK will need to be aware that Michael Fish was a famous weatherman over here. Yeah, don't ask.
“Welcome to Torchwood,” says Rose, proudly. The Doctor, somewhat unimpressed, follows in after her, hands in pockets, inspecting the place.
“It’s –”
“Yes?” she asks, expectantly.
“It’s –” he spots the look on Rose’s face that says ‘I’ve worked bloody hard here for the last two years to build this place up so don’t you dare say a word against it.’ “It’s lovely!” Best not to piss the one person off who’s going to help him, he thinks.
“That was the right answer. It also happens to be your new place of employment.”
“My what?”
“You see, Doctor, in this universe – well, in every universe – humans have to make money in order to live; and now, you’re no different, I’m afraid.”
“I just... thought...”
“What?”
“That...”
“No.”
“No?”
“It’s for the best really.”
“Of course. Because what with me being all of two days old, I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”
“Think of it as another adventure,” she offers, smiling. “That’s what you said, wasn’t it? What he said, I mean. The one adventure you can –”
“Oh, yeah,” he says sarcastically. “I don’t think that other me really grasped the concept of ‘on my own’, especially as he never bloody well is.”
She waits a moment. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” She smiles and makes her way up to her office.
He thinks on this for a moment, then realises he has no idea where she is going. “And you’re sure there’s no UNIT in this universe?” he calls, running after her.
+++
Working is not so bad, the Doctor discovers. Well, he’s only been there for a day, but he likes it okay so far. He feels a greater sense of time now and each day has meaning: night and day, morning and breakfast, go to work come home from work.
It’s a start.
During his ‘settling in’ period, as Rose likes to call it (probation to everyone else), he has been given the task of cataloguing various pieces of alien tech that Torchwood had somehow managed to get their hands on and never bothered dealing with. Well, building a dimension canon takes a lot of manpower and time, you know.
Now, this Doctor may have the other Doctor’s memories, but unfortunately for him, he’s forgotten just how to handle a Terranalpha Air-blade, despite the regeneration it nearly cost him. Twice.
“Err, Doctor, you’re... you’re arm,” a colleague says to him. Ianto something – the Doctor can’t really remember.
“Oh, yes. Look at that.” He stares at the blood pouring from the open wound. “Is that normal?” he asks.
“You’ve never bled before?”
“Of course I’ve bled before, Dumbo.” He winces slightly, at his arm and how he keeps sounding like Donna. He examines his arm. “It’s just, well, that’s an awful lot of blood, isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes it is.”
“This really couldn’t have happened at a worse time, you know, because I’m starting to feel quite sick actually.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and a bit dizzy now I come to think of it.”
“You actually look a bit white.”
“I’m not too fussed about the tan at the moment, but I’ll be sure to remember that, thanks.”
“I think I should get you a chair. You should keep applying pressure to that with your other hand.”
“I was actually thinking of using it to break my fall.”
“What fall?”
- and with that, he fainted.
+++
“Abandoned, Rose. I was abandoned. Practically left for dead, I was.”
“Right.”
“900 years old and it all could have ended bleeding to death in a casualty ward.”
“Technically you’re about eight days old,” she points out to him. “Anyway, they gave you a bandage, didn’t they?”
“A bandage? Did you not hear the part about Bleeding to Death? Besides, I dread to think of what sort of job they did on the stitches. Well, I should be grateful that they stitched it all, I suppose. It could have been anybody, though. If it turns out that the porter did my stitches, I’ll... I’ll...”
“You’ll what?” she laughs.
“I’ll... I’ll write a very strongly worded letter, that’s what,” he tells her.
“The porter didn’t do your stitches,” she assures him.
“I dread to think what they’re teaching in medical school in this universe,” he continues, ignoring her. “You know, Rose, come to think of it: I dread to think what they’re teaching in any universe. I’ve not once had a pleasurable time in a hospital.”
“I think you’ve misunderstood the general idea of hospitals,” Rose tells him.
+++
Two nights later...
“Rose, what does it feel like when you’re dying?” the Doctor asks down the phone, croaky voice and all.
“As someone who’s ‘died’ nine times already, I think you’re better qualified to answer that question,” Rose says, stifling a yawn. It’s 2.30 in the morning.
“Not me, remember. Besides I need to hear it from someone with a human body. This is pretty serious, Rose.”
“Again, unable to help you. Haven’t actually died, remember?”
“Okay. Well what does it mean when you cough up an unsightly fluid?”
“Erm, that it’s bad?”
“Thought as much,” he coughs. “And what about a chronic pain in my chest?”
“Erm, really, really bad?”
“That settles it. Rose, I think I’m dying,” he spluttered down the phone. “Will you take me to hospital?”
“But you said –”
“Didn’t he ever tell you not to ignore pretty much everything I ever say?”
“No.” At least, he might have done and she ignored it.
“Rose, listen, I never told you this but... What happened, with Donna and me, it wasn’t exactly safe and... Well... I think that...”
“I’m coming.” She hangs up before he sneezes down the phone at her.
+++
“Oh, it’s you,” a newly qualified Doctor Martha Jones says, looking up from her notes briefly; and it’s funny, because it’s exactly what the Doctor and Rose are thinking as well.
They look at each other for a moment. “Rose, tell me this hospital isn’t called the Royal Hope,” the Doctor whispers, his voice still croaky.
“This hospital isn’t called the Royal Hope,” she whispers back.
“You’re lying, aren’t you?”
“A little bit,” she nods.
“So, Mr Smith, are you going to do a runner again today, or am I actually going to finish dealing with you?” Martha asks.
“It was you...” he exclaims. “I mean,” he coughs, “it was you,” he says again in a manor much more fitting to his current state of health.
“Well, I stitched you up and dressed your arm. Would have liked to have seen how you were when you woke up, but –”
“Would have liked to? Would have liked to? Where I’m from, doctors tend to try a little bit harder than ‘would have liked to.’”
“Right then, Mr Smith,” Martha continues, ignoring him, “what seems to be the problem?”
In the car journey to the hospital Rose couldn’t help but notice that the Doctor’s symptoms didn’t appear to be life threatening: the odd sneeze and a nasty cough, yes. Life threatening? No. Of course, now they were here and Dr Martha Jones was staring at her looking for an answer because she knew she wouldn’t get one out of the Doctor or Mr Smith or whatever he was calling himself, so she just said, “Well, he’s sort of ill.”
“Sort of ill? Okay, and what sort of ill would that be?” Martha asks.
“Erm, well, he’s got... He’s...”
“Chest pains,” the Doctor manages. “Tell her about the chest pains.”
“Yeah, he’s got these chest pains.” The Doctor looks at her, encouraging her to elaborate. Rose isn’t sure exactly how she can do that but she gives it a go. “They’re... Well... They’re sort of, erm... pains...”
“In his chest?” Martha offers.
“Yes,” says Rose, looking sorry at the Doctor. The Doctor rolls his eyes.
“Any other symptoms?” Martha asks Rose.
“You could ask me, you know?”
Martha turns to face him. “Sorry Mr Smith, it’s just that when you came in it sounded as if you were having some trouble breathing, so I thought you might want to conserve your energy. So, what other symptoms are you experiencing?”
“Well, I’ve lost a lot of... fluids. That can’t be good, can it?”
“Fluids?”
“Fluids, yes,” says the Doctor who is a little miffed as to why this Martha Jones wasn’t believing him.
“What sort of fluids would those be?”
“What sort of... Well what sort of fluids are there? Wet ones, I suppose.”
“You mean just like that trail of snot coming from your nose.”
The Doctor looks at her, thoroughly unimpressed, sniffs and says, “Are you even a proper doctor yet? Because I don’t want some medical student looking after me. My body needs proper, fully qualified, I might add, medical attention. I can’t expect you to understand the complexities of what is going on inside here,” he says, pointing at his chest, coughing a little at the same time. “Alternatively, you could continue and we’ll just have to sue the backside off of you when you screw it up. Again.”
The one thing the Doctor didn’t take into consideration was that, just like in the other universe, Martha was somewhat of a people person, and had no intention of causing a scene. Instead, she smiled sweetly the Doctor whilst cursing him in her head, motioned to Rose for her to follow her so that they were out of earshot, pulled the curtains around the bed and gave her her full diagnosis.
When Rose pulled the curtain back she caught the Doctor scrambling back into bed after he had been eavesdropping on her conversation.
“Well, what did she say?” he asks.
“Rest, plenty of fluids and you’ll be right as rain in a day or two.”
“I’ll be what? Are you really going to listen to her? Did I ever tell you about the time when she...” saved the other me’s life on numerous occasions, he doesn’t say... “tried treating someone on the planet Gorforlia with the exact same thing and civil war broke out? Well, it wasn’t directly related to that, but –”
“Doctor,” Rose says.
“Yes?”
“Be quiet.”
“Right,” he pauses. “So what was it really then? I bet there’s some weird diseases in this universe that I haven’t even considered. Gods, it could be anything.”
“Well,” she says, “in this universe... In fact, in every universe I’m willing to bet, it’s called Man-Flu.”
+++
“Gill,” Martha says as she walks over to the main desk in A&E, “are Mr Barker’s x-rays back yet?” But Gill doesn’t answer her; she instead gestures behind her and whispers, “That nutter’s back.” Martha turns round.
“Oh.”
“Hello,” the nutter says, waving.
Martha didn’t wave back. Instead, she stood, unmoving, asking God how she had wronged him and promising several charitable donations if it would make this man go away. Eventually she says, “What is it this time? No, let me guess: in-growing toenail? No, I’ve got it: split end, isn’t it?” She could tell that he really did spend a lot of time on his hair.
“No, nothing wrong today,” he says as Martha walks back down the corridor and making a big effort not to check his hair.
“Then don’t you have somewhere else to be? You know, anywhere but here.”
“Nah, it’s my day off.”
“Day off from what, exactly? Harassing firemen? Dentists, perhaps? Tell me: is it the public services in general that you have a problem with or is it just me?”
“No, I work for a secret organisation investigating alien life on Earth... It’s very exciting,” he tells her.
“Right,” she responds, drawing out the word. “You know, it might be an idea if you go and annoy someone in our psychiatric ward; they’d love you up there.”
He takes his glasses from his top pocket (Rose bought him a fake pair from Superdrug), walks up to her, looking at her as if inspecting her. “Have you always been this narrow minded?” he asks.
Martha sighs. “It may have escaped your attention but we have a hospital full of patients here and I’ve got work to do, so if you don’t mind...”
“Rose said I should come here. You know, my friend Rose. Blonde. Tells me to be quiet a lot.”
“Why, exactly?”
“Probably because I talk too much. Always talking, me –”
“No. I meant why have you come here?”
“Oh. She said I should apologise,” he mumbles, pulling on his ear and staring at the ceiling.
“Sorry, what?” she asks, stepping nearer so she can hear him properly.
“You know, for the way I spoke to you the other day. I should say sorry.”
“Okay.”
He really didn’t think it would be that easy. “Right. Great. I’ll be off then.”
“Err, that wasn’t an apology.” He was right.
“It wasn’t?”
“No, an apology would go along the lines of ‘I’m sorry I was rude to you the other day and that I questioned your abilities as a doctor. Will you forgive me?’ To which I’ll say ‘I’ll think about it.’ Then you leave me alone for a few days so I can get some peace and, no doubt, you’ll be back in here with food poisoning or something just as trivial and I’ll treat you again because God loves me that much and you won’t be rude to me, I’ll make your tum tum feel all better and, you’ll be grateful like the majority of my patients are and I’ll probably forgive you,” she says without pausing for breath.
“Okay,” he says. “I’m sorry I was rude to you the other day and that I questioned your abilities as a doctor. Will you forgive me?”
Martha smiles. “I’ll think about it,” she tells him and walks off, and the Doctor starts to wonder if that’s what it feels like to make a date.
+++
“She’s really rather good, you know.” He sniffs the dish that Rose has brought him. “Is this Chinese?”
“Yeah. Couldn’t finish it. Who’s rather good?”
“Martha. At being a doctor. I guess I’d never really noticed before, but I was watching her today and – Is it normal for people to bring their ex-boyfriends dinner?”
“You’re not my ex,” she sighs. “Besides, I’ve seen the state of your fridge. Anyway, Martha was pretty good in the other world I seem to remember. Stands to reason she is here.”
“I may not be your ex technically speaking, but there was that one time when – ”
“Ah, that doesn’t sound like ‘never speaking of it again’, does it?”
“No. Sorry. Anyway, the long and short of it is: how long do you think it’s appropriate before I recruit someone to Torchwood?”
“Doctor, I know you’re sort of a big deal at work, but you’ve not even been there a week.” She pauses, stops folding his laundry and looks at him. “Have you told her?”
“What? That I’m half human, half Time Lord, grown from a hand, with certain personality traits of a former companion. Oh, and that I’m from another dimension? A dimension, no less, where I used to travel with an alternate version of herself.” He pauses. “I haven’t been able to drop it into conversation as of yet, no.”
“Yeah, you might want to pick your moment wisely with that one,” she says.
“Oh, you know me,” he smiles. “I’m sure it’ll pop up.” He pauses again, his smile fading. “Rose?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s in this?” he asks, pointing to his now half eaten dinner with his fork.
“It’s chicken and cashew nuts. Why?”
“Oh.”
“Why? What is it?”
“I never did mention that nut allergy of Donna’s, did I?”
The Doctor was pretty certain Martha couldn’t see into the future in the other universe (not that she’d mentioned, anyway) so he supposed that there was a small possibility that she could in this one.
That or the coincidences in this universe were just that good.
+++
“He’ll be fine.” Martha tells Rose. “He was pretty dehydrated, which is why we’re keeping him in. I’ve never seen a reaction like that to a simple nut allergy. His body works in mysterious ways, that’s for sure.”
Rose eyes the Doctor’s hand and mutters, “You don’t know the half of it.”
“What was that?” asks Martha.
“Nothing.” She pulls Martha towards the foot of the bed and out of the Doctor’s earshot. “Look, I know he’s been – ”
“Rude, obnoxious, intrusive, bordering on stalkerish,” Martha offers.
“Yeah,” Rose laughs nervously. “It’s just, well, he’s new in town and I think he just needs friendly faces, you know?”
“And that’s me, is it?”
“He likes you.”
“What? I thought you and he...”
“No, no. Not... No. And I didn’t mean that he liked you, liked you... Or maybe he does, I don’t know,” she says that last part to herself more than anything. “Look, just humour him, please?”
“I’ve got a younger brother who still thinks it’s funny to pull on my hair,” she pauses to look at the Doctor, and with a smile she finishes, “I think I can manage him.”
“Thank you. Right then,” she turns to the Doctor, “you. Dr Jones is under strict instructions to tell me if you annoy any more members of staff,” she says, laughing a little.
“Ah, now, I’m sure Dr Jones sees it as an education.”
“Education, complete and utter annoyance. Yep, they’re the same thing,” Martha comments.
“Rose, tell her... Rose?” It wasn’t that whatever the Doctor was saying wasn’t interesting, only a small crowd had gathered at the window and Rose was slowly walking towards them. “Rose, what is it?” he asks again.
“I... It’s the rain,” she says without looking away from the window.
“It’s only rain,” Martha says.
“But...,” she turns back round to look at Martha, “it’s going up.”
“But it can’t be...”
“Doctor, that’s not normal, is it?”
Before the Doctor gets a chance to answer ‘Do I look like Michael Fish?’ there is a crash of lightening and he’s thrown from his bed.
It’s dark, very dark, outside and people are screaming. Rose and Martha are at the window staring back down at the Earth. The Doctor takes no time at all to change back into his blue suit and is soon standing next to them. “Yep, perfectly normal. C’mon,” he says to the pair of them as he starts looking for an old lady carrying a red and white stripy straw because he’s been here before – sort of. He remembers, at least and it’s happening: his life is happening and it might all be laid out in front of him but he doesn’t even think that it might be boring because he’s already lived it – again, sort of.
Of course, he can always do things differently...
“Talk about quick recovery,” Martha says, both her and Rose hurrying after him.
“Me,” he smiles. “Oh, I’ve never been better.”
END
Title: What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger
Rating: PG - Warning: contains the word snot. Not nice.
Characters: Other!Ten, Rose, Alt!Martha
Spoilers: Blink and you'll miss them for Doomsday, quite blatant ones for Smith and Jones and huge ones for Journey's End.
Summary: What the Doctor needs right now is, well, a doctor.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: Written for
palmetto for the ficathon at bluesuit_fic. They wanted: He's never had the common cold before. Bonus points for pathetic!Sparky whining at Dr. Martha Jones in the ER.Thanks to
ladymako71 for reminding me that Other!Ten needed moar Donna. Also, those not from the UK will need to be aware that Michael Fish was a famous weatherman over here. Yeah, don't ask.“Welcome to Torchwood,” says Rose, proudly. The Doctor, somewhat unimpressed, follows in after her, hands in pockets, inspecting the place.
“It’s –”
“Yes?” she asks, expectantly.
“It’s –” he spots the look on Rose’s face that says ‘I’ve worked bloody hard here for the last two years to build this place up so don’t you dare say a word against it.’ “It’s lovely!” Best not to piss the one person off who’s going to help him, he thinks.
“That was the right answer. It also happens to be your new place of employment.”
“My what?”
“You see, Doctor, in this universe – well, in every universe – humans have to make money in order to live; and now, you’re no different, I’m afraid.”
“I just... thought...”
“What?”
“That...”
“No.”
“No?”
“It’s for the best really.”
“Of course. Because what with me being all of two days old, I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”
“Think of it as another adventure,” she offers, smiling. “That’s what you said, wasn’t it? What he said, I mean. The one adventure you can –”
“Oh, yeah,” he says sarcastically. “I don’t think that other me really grasped the concept of ‘on my own’, especially as he never bloody well is.”
She waits a moment. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” She smiles and makes her way up to her office.
He thinks on this for a moment, then realises he has no idea where she is going. “And you’re sure there’s no UNIT in this universe?” he calls, running after her.
+++
Working is not so bad, the Doctor discovers. Well, he’s only been there for a day, but he likes it okay so far. He feels a greater sense of time now and each day has meaning: night and day, morning and breakfast, go to work come home from work.
It’s a start.
During his ‘settling in’ period, as Rose likes to call it (probation to everyone else), he has been given the task of cataloguing various pieces of alien tech that Torchwood had somehow managed to get their hands on and never bothered dealing with. Well, building a dimension canon takes a lot of manpower and time, you know.
Now, this Doctor may have the other Doctor’s memories, but unfortunately for him, he’s forgotten just how to handle a Terranalpha Air-blade, despite the regeneration it nearly cost him. Twice.
“Err, Doctor, you’re... you’re arm,” a colleague says to him. Ianto something – the Doctor can’t really remember.
“Oh, yes. Look at that.” He stares at the blood pouring from the open wound. “Is that normal?” he asks.
“You’ve never bled before?”
“Of course I’ve bled before, Dumbo.” He winces slightly, at his arm and how he keeps sounding like Donna. He examines his arm. “It’s just, well, that’s an awful lot of blood, isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes it is.”
“This really couldn’t have happened at a worse time, you know, because I’m starting to feel quite sick actually.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and a bit dizzy now I come to think of it.”
“You actually look a bit white.”
“I’m not too fussed about the tan at the moment, but I’ll be sure to remember that, thanks.”
“I think I should get you a chair. You should keep applying pressure to that with your other hand.”
“I was actually thinking of using it to break my fall.”
“What fall?”
- and with that, he fainted.
+++
“Abandoned, Rose. I was abandoned. Practically left for dead, I was.”
“Right.”
“900 years old and it all could have ended bleeding to death in a casualty ward.”
“Technically you’re about eight days old,” she points out to him. “Anyway, they gave you a bandage, didn’t they?”
“A bandage? Did you not hear the part about Bleeding to Death? Besides, I dread to think of what sort of job they did on the stitches. Well, I should be grateful that they stitched it all, I suppose. It could have been anybody, though. If it turns out that the porter did my stitches, I’ll... I’ll...”
“You’ll what?” she laughs.
“I’ll... I’ll write a very strongly worded letter, that’s what,” he tells her.
“The porter didn’t do your stitches,” she assures him.
“I dread to think what they’re teaching in medical school in this universe,” he continues, ignoring her. “You know, Rose, come to think of it: I dread to think what they’re teaching in any universe. I’ve not once had a pleasurable time in a hospital.”
“I think you’ve misunderstood the general idea of hospitals,” Rose tells him.
+++
Two nights later...
“Rose, what does it feel like when you’re dying?” the Doctor asks down the phone, croaky voice and all.
“As someone who’s ‘died’ nine times already, I think you’re better qualified to answer that question,” Rose says, stifling a yawn. It’s 2.30 in the morning.
“Not me, remember. Besides I need to hear it from someone with a human body. This is pretty serious, Rose.”
“Again, unable to help you. Haven’t actually died, remember?”
“Okay. Well what does it mean when you cough up an unsightly fluid?”
“Erm, that it’s bad?”
“Thought as much,” he coughs. “And what about a chronic pain in my chest?”
“Erm, really, really bad?”
“That settles it. Rose, I think I’m dying,” he spluttered down the phone. “Will you take me to hospital?”
“But you said –”
“Didn’t he ever tell you not to ignore pretty much everything I ever say?”
“No.” At least, he might have done and she ignored it.
“Rose, listen, I never told you this but... What happened, with Donna and me, it wasn’t exactly safe and... Well... I think that...”
“I’m coming.” She hangs up before he sneezes down the phone at her.
+++
“Oh, it’s you,” a newly qualified Doctor Martha Jones says, looking up from her notes briefly; and it’s funny, because it’s exactly what the Doctor and Rose are thinking as well.
They look at each other for a moment. “Rose, tell me this hospital isn’t called the Royal Hope,” the Doctor whispers, his voice still croaky.
“This hospital isn’t called the Royal Hope,” she whispers back.
“You’re lying, aren’t you?”
“A little bit,” she nods.
“So, Mr Smith, are you going to do a runner again today, or am I actually going to finish dealing with you?” Martha asks.
“It was you...” he exclaims. “I mean,” he coughs, “it was you,” he says again in a manor much more fitting to his current state of health.
“Well, I stitched you up and dressed your arm. Would have liked to have seen how you were when you woke up, but –”
“Would have liked to? Would have liked to? Where I’m from, doctors tend to try a little bit harder than ‘would have liked to.’”
“Right then, Mr Smith,” Martha continues, ignoring him, “what seems to be the problem?”
In the car journey to the hospital Rose couldn’t help but notice that the Doctor’s symptoms didn’t appear to be life threatening: the odd sneeze and a nasty cough, yes. Life threatening? No. Of course, now they were here and Dr Martha Jones was staring at her looking for an answer because she knew she wouldn’t get one out of the Doctor or Mr Smith or whatever he was calling himself, so she just said, “Well, he’s sort of ill.”
“Sort of ill? Okay, and what sort of ill would that be?” Martha asks.
“Erm, well, he’s got... He’s...”
“Chest pains,” the Doctor manages. “Tell her about the chest pains.”
“Yeah, he’s got these chest pains.” The Doctor looks at her, encouraging her to elaborate. Rose isn’t sure exactly how she can do that but she gives it a go. “They’re... Well... They’re sort of, erm... pains...”
“In his chest?” Martha offers.
“Yes,” says Rose, looking sorry at the Doctor. The Doctor rolls his eyes.
“Any other symptoms?” Martha asks Rose.
“You could ask me, you know?”
Martha turns to face him. “Sorry Mr Smith, it’s just that when you came in it sounded as if you were having some trouble breathing, so I thought you might want to conserve your energy. So, what other symptoms are you experiencing?”
“Well, I’ve lost a lot of... fluids. That can’t be good, can it?”
“Fluids?”
“Fluids, yes,” says the Doctor who is a little miffed as to why this Martha Jones wasn’t believing him.
“What sort of fluids would those be?”
“What sort of... Well what sort of fluids are there? Wet ones, I suppose.”
“You mean just like that trail of snot coming from your nose.”
The Doctor looks at her, thoroughly unimpressed, sniffs and says, “Are you even a proper doctor yet? Because I don’t want some medical student looking after me. My body needs proper, fully qualified, I might add, medical attention. I can’t expect you to understand the complexities of what is going on inside here,” he says, pointing at his chest, coughing a little at the same time. “Alternatively, you could continue and we’ll just have to sue the backside off of you when you screw it up. Again.”
The one thing the Doctor didn’t take into consideration was that, just like in the other universe, Martha was somewhat of a people person, and had no intention of causing a scene. Instead, she smiled sweetly the Doctor whilst cursing him in her head, motioned to Rose for her to follow her so that they were out of earshot, pulled the curtains around the bed and gave her her full diagnosis.
When Rose pulled the curtain back she caught the Doctor scrambling back into bed after he had been eavesdropping on her conversation.
“Well, what did she say?” he asks.
“Rest, plenty of fluids and you’ll be right as rain in a day or two.”
“I’ll be what? Are you really going to listen to her? Did I ever tell you about the time when she...” saved the other me’s life on numerous occasions, he doesn’t say... “tried treating someone on the planet Gorforlia with the exact same thing and civil war broke out? Well, it wasn’t directly related to that, but –”
“Doctor,” Rose says.
“Yes?”
“Be quiet.”
“Right,” he pauses. “So what was it really then? I bet there’s some weird diseases in this universe that I haven’t even considered. Gods, it could be anything.”
“Well,” she says, “in this universe... In fact, in every universe I’m willing to bet, it’s called Man-Flu.”
+++
“Gill,” Martha says as she walks over to the main desk in A&E, “are Mr Barker’s x-rays back yet?” But Gill doesn’t answer her; she instead gestures behind her and whispers, “That nutter’s back.” Martha turns round.
“Oh.”
“Hello,” the nutter says, waving.
Martha didn’t wave back. Instead, she stood, unmoving, asking God how she had wronged him and promising several charitable donations if it would make this man go away. Eventually she says, “What is it this time? No, let me guess: in-growing toenail? No, I’ve got it: split end, isn’t it?” She could tell that he really did spend a lot of time on his hair.
“No, nothing wrong today,” he says as Martha walks back down the corridor and making a big effort not to check his hair.
“Then don’t you have somewhere else to be? You know, anywhere but here.”
“Nah, it’s my day off.”
“Day off from what, exactly? Harassing firemen? Dentists, perhaps? Tell me: is it the public services in general that you have a problem with or is it just me?”
“No, I work for a secret organisation investigating alien life on Earth... It’s very exciting,” he tells her.
“Right,” she responds, drawing out the word. “You know, it might be an idea if you go and annoy someone in our psychiatric ward; they’d love you up there.”
He takes his glasses from his top pocket (Rose bought him a fake pair from Superdrug), walks up to her, looking at her as if inspecting her. “Have you always been this narrow minded?” he asks.
Martha sighs. “It may have escaped your attention but we have a hospital full of patients here and I’ve got work to do, so if you don’t mind...”
“Rose said I should come here. You know, my friend Rose. Blonde. Tells me to be quiet a lot.”
“Why, exactly?”
“Probably because I talk too much. Always talking, me –”
“No. I meant why have you come here?”
“Oh. She said I should apologise,” he mumbles, pulling on his ear and staring at the ceiling.
“Sorry, what?” she asks, stepping nearer so she can hear him properly.
“You know, for the way I spoke to you the other day. I should say sorry.”
“Okay.”
He really didn’t think it would be that easy. “Right. Great. I’ll be off then.”
“Err, that wasn’t an apology.” He was right.
“It wasn’t?”
“No, an apology would go along the lines of ‘I’m sorry I was rude to you the other day and that I questioned your abilities as a doctor. Will you forgive me?’ To which I’ll say ‘I’ll think about it.’ Then you leave me alone for a few days so I can get some peace and, no doubt, you’ll be back in here with food poisoning or something just as trivial and I’ll treat you again because God loves me that much and you won’t be rude to me, I’ll make your tum tum feel all better and, you’ll be grateful like the majority of my patients are and I’ll probably forgive you,” she says without pausing for breath.
“Okay,” he says. “I’m sorry I was rude to you the other day and that I questioned your abilities as a doctor. Will you forgive me?”
Martha smiles. “I’ll think about it,” she tells him and walks off, and the Doctor starts to wonder if that’s what it feels like to make a date.
+++
“She’s really rather good, you know.” He sniffs the dish that Rose has brought him. “Is this Chinese?”
“Yeah. Couldn’t finish it. Who’s rather good?”
“Martha. At being a doctor. I guess I’d never really noticed before, but I was watching her today and – Is it normal for people to bring their ex-boyfriends dinner?”
“You’re not my ex,” she sighs. “Besides, I’ve seen the state of your fridge. Anyway, Martha was pretty good in the other world I seem to remember. Stands to reason she is here.”
“I may not be your ex technically speaking, but there was that one time when – ”
“Ah, that doesn’t sound like ‘never speaking of it again’, does it?”
“No. Sorry. Anyway, the long and short of it is: how long do you think it’s appropriate before I recruit someone to Torchwood?”
“Doctor, I know you’re sort of a big deal at work, but you’ve not even been there a week.” She pauses, stops folding his laundry and looks at him. “Have you told her?”
“What? That I’m half human, half Time Lord, grown from a hand, with certain personality traits of a former companion. Oh, and that I’m from another dimension? A dimension, no less, where I used to travel with an alternate version of herself.” He pauses. “I haven’t been able to drop it into conversation as of yet, no.”
“Yeah, you might want to pick your moment wisely with that one,” she says.
“Oh, you know me,” he smiles. “I’m sure it’ll pop up.” He pauses again, his smile fading. “Rose?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s in this?” he asks, pointing to his now half eaten dinner with his fork.
“It’s chicken and cashew nuts. Why?”
“Oh.”
“Why? What is it?”
“I never did mention that nut allergy of Donna’s, did I?”
The Doctor was pretty certain Martha couldn’t see into the future in the other universe (not that she’d mentioned, anyway) so he supposed that there was a small possibility that she could in this one.
That or the coincidences in this universe were just that good.
+++
“He’ll be fine.” Martha tells Rose. “He was pretty dehydrated, which is why we’re keeping him in. I’ve never seen a reaction like that to a simple nut allergy. His body works in mysterious ways, that’s for sure.”
Rose eyes the Doctor’s hand and mutters, “You don’t know the half of it.”
“What was that?” asks Martha.
“Nothing.” She pulls Martha towards the foot of the bed and out of the Doctor’s earshot. “Look, I know he’s been – ”
“Rude, obnoxious, intrusive, bordering on stalkerish,” Martha offers.
“Yeah,” Rose laughs nervously. “It’s just, well, he’s new in town and I think he just needs friendly faces, you know?”
“And that’s me, is it?”
“He likes you.”
“What? I thought you and he...”
“No, no. Not... No. And I didn’t mean that he liked you, liked you... Or maybe he does, I don’t know,” she says that last part to herself more than anything. “Look, just humour him, please?”
“I’ve got a younger brother who still thinks it’s funny to pull on my hair,” she pauses to look at the Doctor, and with a smile she finishes, “I think I can manage him.”
“Thank you. Right then,” she turns to the Doctor, “you. Dr Jones is under strict instructions to tell me if you annoy any more members of staff,” she says, laughing a little.
“Ah, now, I’m sure Dr Jones sees it as an education.”
“Education, complete and utter annoyance. Yep, they’re the same thing,” Martha comments.
“Rose, tell her... Rose?” It wasn’t that whatever the Doctor was saying wasn’t interesting, only a small crowd had gathered at the window and Rose was slowly walking towards them. “Rose, what is it?” he asks again.
“I... It’s the rain,” she says without looking away from the window.
“It’s only rain,” Martha says.
“But...,” she turns back round to look at Martha, “it’s going up.”
“But it can’t be...”
“Doctor, that’s not normal, is it?”
Before the Doctor gets a chance to answer ‘Do I look like Michael Fish?’ there is a crash of lightening and he’s thrown from his bed.
It’s dark, very dark, outside and people are screaming. Rose and Martha are at the window staring back down at the Earth. The Doctor takes no time at all to change back into his blue suit and is soon standing next to them. “Yep, perfectly normal. C’mon,” he says to the pair of them as he starts looking for an old lady carrying a red and white stripy straw because he’s been here before – sort of. He remembers, at least and it’s happening: his life is happening and it might all be laid out in front of him but he doesn’t even think that it might be boring because he’s already lived it – again, sort of.
Of course, he can always do things differently...
“Talk about quick recovery,” Martha says, both her and Rose hurrying after him.
“Me,” he smiles. “Oh, I’ve never been better.”
END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 06:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 08:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 02:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 03:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 04:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 04:26 pm (UTC)Sequel due at the end of the week, yo.(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 04:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 04:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 05:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 05:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 05:35 pm (UTC)donna's nut alergies! <3!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 05:37 pm (UTC)2nd Chances
Date: 2008-09-08 06:56 pm (UTC)Nice work!
Wouldn't mind if this was the start of a series, either! ;D
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 07:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 07:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 07:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 07:54 pm (UTC)and now i want a bunch of sequels
Well, if you ask nicely. Ahem.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 07:56 pm (UTC)Re: 2nd Chances
Date: 2008-09-08 07:57 pm (UTC)And, erm, yeah... The sequel is practically finished, and there will probably be one after that too. Eeep.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 07:57 pm (UTC)Re: 2nd Chances
Date: 2008-09-08 07:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 08:21 pm (UTC)This was awesome. And just what I needed tonight so, yayz *g*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 08:41 pm (UTC)i will tell you, the dance was... not very good. but i did do it.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 08:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-08 09:05 pm (UTC)