![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fic: Trust Me (I'm a Lying Liar Who Lies). Chapter 6.
Happy Saturday! Hope you'll think this was worth waiting for! :)
(Previous chapters here in my memories.)
Summary: In which River is enigmatic, Martha is frustrated, Mickey is intrigued and the Doctor... is a Pond.
Setting: Post-S6 (spoilers for everything aired so far, including First Night/Last Night and The Christmas Special).
Characters: Martha, Mickey, River, the Doctor (11), OCs. (More characters will probably turn up later.)
Word count (this chapter): 1800 words approx.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 6
May 2007, Professor Docherty's Lab
Martha was used to long days and longer nights, yet this one had felt endless. She knew that at some point the enormity of what she had set in motion tonight would hit her, but right now she was too tired, and besides it was all out of her hands. Professor Docherty would betray her and then... Well, whatever happened to her next was up to the Master. All that mattered was that she had done her job well enough for the plan to work.
She closed her eyes as they walked down the corridor towards the main entrance, and Tom looked concerned.
"Are you OK?"
"Fine," she lied. "Just a bit tired, I guess. But we can't stay here..."
Her voice trailed off as a door opened and a girl stuck her head out. She was pretty, and rather like Martha in looks - her hair even pulled back in the same manner, and her clothes were similarly functional and low key.
Stepping forward, she smiled widely and held out her hand.
"Martha, right? Wow. Martha Jones, the Legend. I'm Mels, the Professor's assistant. Sorry but... Could I just have a few moments of your time?"
Shooting Tom a look - a look which seemed to total up all his assets and find him scoring highly - Mels then shrugged apologetically.
"In private?"
"Of course," Tom said. "I was just about to go look for the little boy's room..."
"Down there, and to your left," Mels instructed as she held the door open for Martha to enter. Not having much of a choice, Martha walked in. It was another workshop, full of scattered bits of technology, but Mels didn't apologise for the mess, just leaned against the door after she’d closed it, studying Martha.
"Martha Jones, the woman who's going to kill the Master..." she bit her lip, the look in her eyes was quietly unsettling. "I think I might be jealous."
Martha did her best to smile, having come across this attitude fairly frequently on her travels, but then Mels tilted her head.
"Can I see it? The gun? It's finished now, right? All complete?"
"Um... I guess..." Martha said slowly, carefully removing her backpack before withdrawing the gun and handing it over.
But as Mels turned it over, studying it, her face twisted into a sneer.
"And how, exactly, are you going to kill him with this? Hit him really hard over the head?"
Tossing it back at Martha she shook her head. "And here I was, thinking that maybe I could get some handy tips... Are you going to do anything to him at all? Or are you nothing but empty hope? Because that, quite frankly, is just disgusting."
Martha swallowed, silent panic rising.
"OK, listen. You can't tell Professor Docherty this, but there is a secret plan. It's the real reason I've travelled round the world - I've given everyone this message: When the countdown hits zero-"
Mels rolled her eyes. "Everyone chants 'Doctor' and hopes the Messiah will save them... Are you seriously telling me that that is the actual plan? Praying to the Doctor?"
"It'll work."
Martha crammed her voice full of as much reassurance as she could, but Mels remained soundly unimpressed.
"Yeah, good luck with that.”
Detaching herself from the door she walked past Martha, stopping by one of the work stations and tapping a monitor which flickered and then grudgingly displayed numbers which looked painfully complex. Mels studied the numbers with satisfaction, then turned to Martha.
“Well, since you’re here, I might as well let you in on my plan - 'cause I've got some back-up in case Tinkerbell should fail to rise to the challenge when everyone claps."
"What... what do you mean?"
Mels tapped the monitor.
"I have a couple of pretty deadly missiles all ready to go. You and your precious Doctor don't kill the Master, I'll blow up the whole Valiant - two birds with one stone."
Martha had met with more than a few nutters on her travels - people damaged and desperate, more than eager to tell the famous Martha of all the ways in which they were going to destroy the Master above... She had done her best for them, calming or reassuring as judged best, grateful for her medical training.
But Mels... Mels was something else. Going by logic alone, a girl who looked as if she was barely out of her teens shouldn’t be capable of not just stealing, but also launching missiles... and yet. There was none of the familiar haunted desperation to Mels; just cold, crisp reasoning and determination - and it chilled Martha to the bone. She - without question - believed Mels more than capable of what she was threatening.
Momentarily closing her eyes in order to calm herself, Martha couldn’t stop her voice from being at the point of trembling as she answered.
"My family is up there - my mum, my dad, my sister - as well as all the Master's other hostages and... You just- you can't do that!"
Mels raised an eyebrow, a small superior smile in the corner of her mouth.
"Newsflash preacher-girl: I can do whatever I like. Have you seen the world recently? Please tell me, what makes you and your family so special that I should take them into consideration? Are they more important than everyone else? Why should they get to live when so many others don't? And - in case you’re wondering - then I'm not speaking hypothetically. My father was killed on the first day, and my mother..."
She lowered her eyes, for the first time showing any kind of deeper emotion. "Maybe it would have been better if she’d been killed too."
The pain was only fleeting however, and when she met Martha’s eyes again there was no hint of any sentiment, her face coldly challanging.
"Bascially - if you don’t get the job done, I will.”
The moment was broken when one of the odd-looking cobbled-together instruments made a little noise, and Mels reached out and picked it up, tilting her head.
"She must think you've gone already, she's calling him now..."
"How do you-" Martha wasn't sure how to formulate the question, and Mels lifted an eyebrow.
"That is your plan, right? To let the Professor betray you, so the Master will know where you are and get you a ringside seat for the grand finale? Clever. Really liked ‘Know your enemy’ by the way - nice touch that."
Martha, shaking herself out of stasis, busied herself with returning the gun to her backpack. She could really have done without this added complication...
“I should be going,” she said, but when she looked up Mels was studying her silently, arms crossed.
"He can't save you," she finally said, and Martha shrugged.
"Doesn’t matter. Like you said - I’m not special. As long as the Doctor's there, that's the important part."
Mels stared at her, eyes widening as she raised a hand to her mouth.
“Oh my god!”
Martha gritted her teeth.
“What?”
Her face breaking out into a wide grin, Mels' eyes filled with undiluted glee.
“Of course! Oh Martha, you are special.”
Irritated and unsettled Martha had to fight to not yell at what was probably the most infuriating and dangerous person she had met all year.
“What is it?”
“I should have realised before, when the broadcast was on... Oh Martha. Doctor Martha Jones. You’re not looking to him to save you. You want to save him.”
Overwhelmed with mirth Mels brought her hands together.
“I swear, that is the most precious and stupid thing I have come across in years. Talk about Mission Impossible...”
Martha could feel herself going hot and cold simultaneously, and she had to grasp onto the bag to stop her hands from shaking. How had she guessed? How the hell had this horrible, infuriating girl guessed what Martha wouldn't even admit to herself?
At that moment, to Martha’s immense relief, there was a knock on the door and Tom entered, interrupting the conversation. Looking from one to the other, noticing the delight on Mels’ face as well as the closed look on Martha’s, he faltered slightly.
“You girls OK?” he asked, caution in his voice, and Martha nodded, feeling vulnerable and exposed and wishing Mels and her keen insights as far away as possible.
“We’re fine,” she said coldly, and Mels smirked, eyes dancing with some kind of secret malice that Martha could neither name nor understand, but which made her more determined than ever to stare down whatever horrors the Master could bring.
“Oh we really are,” Mels said happily. “All the best to you Martha Jones - you go save the world. There, at least, is a task that you might succeed in.”
Martha, too angry to speak, turned on her heel and walked out without another word.
***
Standing in the TARDIS now, bathed in its soft, warm glow, Martha's sudden rush of understanding was like a flood sweeping her along. The first moment of ‘But that’s impossible’ was pushed aside as past and present lined up with undeniable logic, and finally - finally - everything (River’s abilities, the Doctor’s attitude) made sense.
But more than that - she had been right.
"Know your enemy," Martha whispered, vindication coursing through her. That nameless fear and mistrust which had plagued her since River had first introduced herself... It had a name and it had an origin and it had a reason.
As she turned from the image of Mels to River, who was still standing on the platform above her, the other woman (no - Time Lady) smiled, and it was that selfsame infuriatingly smug smile that had so grated back when she’d been Mels.
“Well then ‘enemy’ - I think we probably need a cup of tea and a good chat before we pick up the boys,” River said, and Martha couldn’t help tensing up.
‘You kill the Doctor’ she thought. ‘And just because he forgives you - he forgave the Master a year of slaughter in a heartbeat, this is nothing - doesn’t mean I will...’
Sensing Martha’s hesitation, River tilted her head.
“Surely you would like to know why the Doctor asked me to kill him?”
And the solid foundation Martha had so effortlessly built in her mind crumbled to nothing.
Chapter 7.
(Previous chapters here in my memories.)
Summary: In which River is enigmatic, Martha is frustrated, Mickey is intrigued and the Doctor... is a Pond.
Setting: Post-S6 (spoilers for everything aired so far, including First Night/Last Night and The Christmas Special).
Characters: Martha, Mickey, River, the Doctor (11), OCs. (More characters will probably turn up later.)
Word count (this chapter): 1800 words approx.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
May 2007, Professor Docherty's Lab
Martha was used to long days and longer nights, yet this one had felt endless. She knew that at some point the enormity of what she had set in motion tonight would hit her, but right now she was too tired, and besides it was all out of her hands. Professor Docherty would betray her and then... Well, whatever happened to her next was up to the Master. All that mattered was that she had done her job well enough for the plan to work.
She closed her eyes as they walked down the corridor towards the main entrance, and Tom looked concerned.
"Are you OK?"
"Fine," she lied. "Just a bit tired, I guess. But we can't stay here..."
Her voice trailed off as a door opened and a girl stuck her head out. She was pretty, and rather like Martha in looks - her hair even pulled back in the same manner, and her clothes were similarly functional and low key.
Stepping forward, she smiled widely and held out her hand.
"Martha, right? Wow. Martha Jones, the Legend. I'm Mels, the Professor's assistant. Sorry but... Could I just have a few moments of your time?"
Shooting Tom a look - a look which seemed to total up all his assets and find him scoring highly - Mels then shrugged apologetically.
"In private?"
"Of course," Tom said. "I was just about to go look for the little boy's room..."
"Down there, and to your left," Mels instructed as she held the door open for Martha to enter. Not having much of a choice, Martha walked in. It was another workshop, full of scattered bits of technology, but Mels didn't apologise for the mess, just leaned against the door after she’d closed it, studying Martha.
"Martha Jones, the woman who's going to kill the Master..." she bit her lip, the look in her eyes was quietly unsettling. "I think I might be jealous."
Martha did her best to smile, having come across this attitude fairly frequently on her travels, but then Mels tilted her head.
"Can I see it? The gun? It's finished now, right? All complete?"
"Um... I guess..." Martha said slowly, carefully removing her backpack before withdrawing the gun and handing it over.
But as Mels turned it over, studying it, her face twisted into a sneer.
"And how, exactly, are you going to kill him with this? Hit him really hard over the head?"
Tossing it back at Martha she shook her head. "And here I was, thinking that maybe I could get some handy tips... Are you going to do anything to him at all? Or are you nothing but empty hope? Because that, quite frankly, is just disgusting."
Martha swallowed, silent panic rising.
"OK, listen. You can't tell Professor Docherty this, but there is a secret plan. It's the real reason I've travelled round the world - I've given everyone this message: When the countdown hits zero-"
Mels rolled her eyes. "Everyone chants 'Doctor' and hopes the Messiah will save them... Are you seriously telling me that that is the actual plan? Praying to the Doctor?"
"It'll work."
Martha crammed her voice full of as much reassurance as she could, but Mels remained soundly unimpressed.
"Yeah, good luck with that.”
Detaching herself from the door she walked past Martha, stopping by one of the work stations and tapping a monitor which flickered and then grudgingly displayed numbers which looked painfully complex. Mels studied the numbers with satisfaction, then turned to Martha.
“Well, since you’re here, I might as well let you in on my plan - 'cause I've got some back-up in case Tinkerbell should fail to rise to the challenge when everyone claps."
"What... what do you mean?"
Mels tapped the monitor.
"I have a couple of pretty deadly missiles all ready to go. You and your precious Doctor don't kill the Master, I'll blow up the whole Valiant - two birds with one stone."
Martha had met with more than a few nutters on her travels - people damaged and desperate, more than eager to tell the famous Martha of all the ways in which they were going to destroy the Master above... She had done her best for them, calming or reassuring as judged best, grateful for her medical training.
But Mels... Mels was something else. Going by logic alone, a girl who looked as if she was barely out of her teens shouldn’t be capable of not just stealing, but also launching missiles... and yet. There was none of the familiar haunted desperation to Mels; just cold, crisp reasoning and determination - and it chilled Martha to the bone. She - without question - believed Mels more than capable of what she was threatening.
Momentarily closing her eyes in order to calm herself, Martha couldn’t stop her voice from being at the point of trembling as she answered.
"My family is up there - my mum, my dad, my sister - as well as all the Master's other hostages and... You just- you can't do that!"
Mels raised an eyebrow, a small superior smile in the corner of her mouth.
"Newsflash preacher-girl: I can do whatever I like. Have you seen the world recently? Please tell me, what makes you and your family so special that I should take them into consideration? Are they more important than everyone else? Why should they get to live when so many others don't? And - in case you’re wondering - then I'm not speaking hypothetically. My father was killed on the first day, and my mother..."
She lowered her eyes, for the first time showing any kind of deeper emotion. "Maybe it would have been better if she’d been killed too."
The pain was only fleeting however, and when she met Martha’s eyes again there was no hint of any sentiment, her face coldly challanging.
"Bascially - if you don’t get the job done, I will.”
The moment was broken when one of the odd-looking cobbled-together instruments made a little noise, and Mels reached out and picked it up, tilting her head.
"She must think you've gone already, she's calling him now..."
"How do you-" Martha wasn't sure how to formulate the question, and Mels lifted an eyebrow.
"That is your plan, right? To let the Professor betray you, so the Master will know where you are and get you a ringside seat for the grand finale? Clever. Really liked ‘Know your enemy’ by the way - nice touch that."
Martha, shaking herself out of stasis, busied herself with returning the gun to her backpack. She could really have done without this added complication...
“I should be going,” she said, but when she looked up Mels was studying her silently, arms crossed.
"He can't save you," she finally said, and Martha shrugged.
"Doesn’t matter. Like you said - I’m not special. As long as the Doctor's there, that's the important part."
Mels stared at her, eyes widening as she raised a hand to her mouth.
“Oh my god!”
Martha gritted her teeth.
“What?”
Her face breaking out into a wide grin, Mels' eyes filled with undiluted glee.
“Of course! Oh Martha, you are special.”
Irritated and unsettled Martha had to fight to not yell at what was probably the most infuriating and dangerous person she had met all year.
“What is it?”
“I should have realised before, when the broadcast was on... Oh Martha. Doctor Martha Jones. You’re not looking to him to save you. You want to save him.”
Overwhelmed with mirth Mels brought her hands together.
“I swear, that is the most precious and stupid thing I have come across in years. Talk about Mission Impossible...”
Martha could feel herself going hot and cold simultaneously, and she had to grasp onto the bag to stop her hands from shaking. How had she guessed? How the hell had this horrible, infuriating girl guessed what Martha wouldn't even admit to herself?
At that moment, to Martha’s immense relief, there was a knock on the door and Tom entered, interrupting the conversation. Looking from one to the other, noticing the delight on Mels’ face as well as the closed look on Martha’s, he faltered slightly.
“You girls OK?” he asked, caution in his voice, and Martha nodded, feeling vulnerable and exposed and wishing Mels and her keen insights as far away as possible.
“We’re fine,” she said coldly, and Mels smirked, eyes dancing with some kind of secret malice that Martha could neither name nor understand, but which made her more determined than ever to stare down whatever horrors the Master could bring.
“Oh we really are,” Mels said happily. “All the best to you Martha Jones - you go save the world. There, at least, is a task that you might succeed in.”
Martha, too angry to speak, turned on her heel and walked out without another word.
Standing in the TARDIS now, bathed in its soft, warm glow, Martha's sudden rush of understanding was like a flood sweeping her along. The first moment of ‘But that’s impossible’ was pushed aside as past and present lined up with undeniable logic, and finally - finally - everything (River’s abilities, the Doctor’s attitude) made sense.
But more than that - she had been right.
"Know your enemy," Martha whispered, vindication coursing through her. That nameless fear and mistrust which had plagued her since River had first introduced herself... It had a name and it had an origin and it had a reason.
As she turned from the image of Mels to River, who was still standing on the platform above her, the other woman (no - Time Lady) smiled, and it was that selfsame infuriatingly smug smile that had so grated back when she’d been Mels.
“Well then ‘enemy’ - I think we probably need a cup of tea and a good chat before we pick up the boys,” River said, and Martha couldn’t help tensing up.
‘You kill the Doctor’ she thought. ‘And just because he forgives you - he forgave the Master a year of slaughter in a heartbeat, this is nothing - doesn’t mean I will...’
Sensing Martha’s hesitation, River tilted her head.
“Surely you would like to know why the Doctor asked me to kill him?”
And the solid foundation Martha had so effortlessly built in her mind crumbled to nothing.
Chapter 7.