Best Intentions

by Calapine [Reviews - 11]

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  • All Ages
  • None
  • Humor

“You could try dropping by. To see Jack, I mean,” said Martha, cradling her mobile against her neck as she typed up her report for UNIT. Somehow, when it was three o’clock in the morning and the Hub was quiet, the thought that calling the Doctor was a good idea had floated into her brain.

She could hear the frown in his voice as he replied, “What? Why?”

“He’s a bit upset.”

“I’m not giving him comfort sex.”

Martha rolled her eyes, then remembered that the Doctor couldn’t actually see her and said, “That wasn’t exactly what I was thinking of. Though,” she considered, “if you think it would help...”

There was a long pause that gave the distinct impression that the Doctor was thinking it over. “What happened?” he said finally.

“He lost someone on his team.”

“Has he looked in the sewers? UNIT are always losing people down there.”

“I mean someone died.”

“Oh.”

“Then he came back to life.”

“Ah! Well that’s good news. Sometimes. Usually not. Usually some very bad things happen. Unless they’re a Time Lord, of course. Is he a Time Lord?” The Doctor tried very hard not to sound terribly eager and failed utterly.

“No,” Martha told him. “He’s human, as far as I know. And I haven’t seen any suspicious looking pocket watches lying around here either.” She chose not to mention the long list of other suspicious looking stuff she’d spotted in the Hub and was fairly sure was on UNIT’s ‘highly dangerous’ list. “There was... well, something bad did happen. He, Owen, ended up fighting Death. Actually...” Martha paused. The Doctor’s views on Torchwood weren’t exactly generous and from what Martha had seen so far, she couldn’t really blame him. “What brought Owen back to life also sort of summoned up Death.”

“Also sort of summoned up Death,” repeated the Doctor slowly, sounding very much like he was mocking her. “Actual Death. The Death. Incarnate. Personified. That sort of thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Was she blind drunk and smoking like a chimney?”

Not what she’d expected to be asked. “No,” said Martha. “It was more of an unconvincing skeleton actually. With a lot of smoke, for atmosphere.”

“Well, that’s good then. There’s more than one Death, y’see. And the one I’m best acquainted with, well, she’s a little capricious, you might say. And takes you for a night out in Orion’s Belt promising to be the designated driver and then it’s half five in the morning and they’re chucking you out of the Draconian Star Belcher and suddenly she’s getting horribly intimate with your TARDIS right in front of your eyes - even worse, the old girl’s flirting right back - and you end up stranded halfway between the Milky Way and Andromeda for two weeks with a hung-over anthropomorphic personification for company. And that’s not fun, let me tell you-“

“Oh god,” said Martha, horrified.

“What?”

“Nothing. Look, Jack, remember? Your friend-“

“Maybe you could give him comfort sex?”

Another long pause, this one Martha spent contemplating exactly how she was going to greet the Doctor when she saw him in person again. “I have a boyfriend,” she said, diplomatically.

“What? What? What?!

Martha drew herself up a little straighter, infusing her voice with all the dignity she could muster. “I assume that your tone indicates your own horror at missing out on the awesomeness that is me, and is not, in fact, an indication of your shock that I could attract a male of my own species and be in a long-term relationship?”

“Er...” The Doctor thought about that one. He was almost certain that if he chose option two something very unpleasant would happen to him next time he visited Earth. He did not want unpleasant things to happen to him. Especially not at the hands of Martha Jones. She had very pointy nails, after all. “Quite. Exactly. I’m devastated. I was hoping you’d consider bearing my time babies.”

“No,” said Martha, then added “thank you,” just incase it really was a proper alien offer that was terribly important and not just the Doctor being a bit of an arse.

“Maybe you could give the dead one some comfort sex?” suggested the Doctor.

“He’s dead,” she pointed out. Just incase the Doctor had missed the blatantly obvious.

“Even so. I’ve had sex with dead people.”

Martha pressed the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “Doctor, there are some things I really really don’t need to know.”

“Well, they’d died at some point or other, and that’s pretty much the same thing. I don’t think they were dead during the actual act of coitus though. At least I hope not. But if they were, that’d say something pretty impressive about my skills wouldn’t it? Cause they were definitely alive afterwards.”

“Yes, Doctor. I’m sure you’re very impressive in bed.”

“I am, you know. Just ask Madame de Pompadour. Or Marie Curie — the things she said about my first incarnation... would you like to try?”

“Boyfriend.”

“Hmph. I can’t help but feel, Martha Jones, that you’re going to be using this boyfriend as an excuse for us not to have a physical relationship quite a lot.”

“Since when have you wanted a physical relationship?”

“Oh, I don’t know... it was a bit lonely after you left, you know. And there was this thing on a ship and I sort of turned a woman I fancied into a bunch of sparkly lights and then-”

“I get the picture.”

“So that’s a no then?”

“We are not having sex, no.”

“Oh. So who am I having sex with again?”

“No-one! No-one is having sex with anyone else.”

“That’s not going to do your species much good, is it? I mean, you’ve more or less managed to get down the whole artificial insemination thing, yeah, but I thought a lot of you were quite keen on the sex thing for the orgasmic thrills.”

“Doctor?”

“Yes, Martha?”

“I’m sorry I called.”

“Well that’s not very friendly, is it? ...Martha? Martha? Hello, Martha Jones?”

And no-one had any sex. Which upset the Doctor greatly.