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Fic: Trust Me (I'm a Lying Liar Who Lies). Chapter 10.
Here it is - finally. The last chapter. (There's still an epilogue, mind you, so it's not like the story is completely over.) I can't begin to explain how many different versions of this I've worked on (there have been major, drastic overhauls, oh yes), but hopefully you'll think it's been worth waiting for. *crosses fingers* Enjoy!
(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): 1700 words approx.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Dedication: For Promethia, who helped make this what it is.
Chapter 10
The impact of Martha’s punch was rather satisfying, she thought.
The Doctor staggered, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he still had his arm around Mickey, grasping onto him to steady himself, he would probably have ended up on the floor.
As Mickey instinctively helped to stabilise the Doctor, he turned his head towards Martha, incredulous.
"What the hell was that for woman?" he asked angrily, and she answered without taking her eyes off the Doctor, who was now holding a hand against his face.
“He lied.”
A beat, as Mickey stared at her, jaw dropping.
“You are kidding, right? If Jack was still around would you punch him for flirting?”
She didn’t answer. This was between her and the Doctor.
The Doctor slowly lowered his hand, the pain clearly forgotten as he watched her intently.
“Which lie?” he asked carefully - neither surprised, nor shocked or angry; and somehow it just made things worse.
She wanted her Doctor (fire and ice and rage), the one with danger and enchantment shimmering in his eyes (burn with me) - a girl could get lost in those eyes and never get out. She wanted that broken, perilous core, wanted him to lash out, give her something to fight, somewhere to channel her fury.
But all she had was this quiet stranger, who looked at her with apologies he knew were useless and eyes as old as time. She didn’t know what to do with that, so she forced herself to take a step back, mentally - no matter how much better she’d feel by yelling, it wouldn’t give her the result she wanted. So she fixed him with a cool stare, and forced the anger down.
(Deep breath, Martha. Explain it so that he can’t avoid the truth.)
“You made up a lie once, to defeat the Master - remember? About a gun in four parts, strong enough to kill a Time Lord permanently. I used to wonder why that ruse worked. Surely he must have known that you wouldn’t ask me to kill... But then, he was insane.”
She swallowed, face hardening.
“But he knew you better than I did, didn’t he? So much better. After all, the woman you love is a murderer because of you. And I know you’re not dead yet, but you expect her to kill you. Doctor... I spent a year of my life, walking through hell for you. Because I believed you were different. Because I believed you were better. Because I loved you. And now... You do this? To your wife?”
Stopping momentarily, she tried to fight the tears and the bitterness and the hollow, painful space in her chest.
“Davros said you turned people into weapons - I thought that he was just a ranting lunatic, twisting everything out of hatred. Because you told the Master that you would never ask me - or any of us - to kill. Like... it was so obvious it could never be otherwise. But that? That was a lie. Unless killing for you is a special wifely privilege?
He watched her silently for a long moment, his discomfort and defensiveness like the deep, silent swell of the sea, but then he lowered his eyes, head abruptly bowed in defeat.
“No.”
It was a bitter victory, for all that she’d wanted it. But it did allow her to ask the question which had been burning in her mind ever since River had told her how he would die.
“So what did I believe in?”
Lifting his head, he studied her again, and she couldn’t begin to guess at what thoughts were going through his head. She could see the shadow of a bruise now forming, and wondered where all the magic had gone. Was he just a charlatan, a cunning liar who used people? How did any of it fit?
Finally he answered, words slow and careful, his hands clasped together awkwardly - and he couldn’t have been any further from the man she had fallen in love with if he’d suddenly turned ginger.
“You believed in a man who needed your belief in order to exist. Like...” he waved a hand in the air, “...when everyone on Earth said my name, they gave me the power to escape the Master’s control. That’s what you did for me, every day. Martha - your belief created me.”
She stared at him, eyebrows raising.
“Sorry, I... what?”
“Trust is a very powerful thing. I trusted you to save the world, and you became Martha Jones, the Legend. When they looked at you, believing that you could do it - who were you then? Did they believe a lie?”
She opened her mouth, unsure, but didn’t know what to say, as he reached out and grasped onto her shoulders, the shadow of a smile on his face. A strange, very serious sort of smile, that she couldn’t gauge.
“And there, Martha my dear, lies the paradox. When you become a story, you belong to others, and there is no simple truth. The hero of one story, is the villain in another... The Master saved the Toclafane, and you and I and Jack condemned them to the dark and the cold and the end of all things.”
Letting his hands fall, he kept holding her eyes.
“If it helps at all, then I was lying to myself too - because it's nice to be the hero all the time. But then, as River has clearly explained to you, came Demons Run, and I learned that as much as I wanted, I couldn’t run from the truth forever."
Sighing, he pulled a hand through is hair, messing up the smoothness and somehow managing to look even more rueful than before.
"I can’t save her Martha. I can’t save her at all.”
“So... you just gave up? But you never-”
“Listen, are you done yet?” Mickey cut through, leaving both of them to turn to him in surprise. “Martha - I love you, but you’re turning into your mother. Give the guy a break.”
It took a moment for Martha’s brain to compute what she was hearing, and then she shook her head.
“And since when did you suddenly become his best friend?” she asked suspiciously, and Mickey shrugged.
“I dunno, but I don’t know why him screwing up is your business. Can’t you just let it be? I’ve been saying this for years - not that anyone’s ever listened - but he’s not some kind of messiah-”
A peal of laughter broke him off, and they all turned to River, whom they had almost forgotten. She beamed down at them.
“Mickey? You’re a genius! And Sweetie, don’t you dare deny it - you are most certainly a very naughty boy!”
Looking from one to the other the Doctor fidgeted, embarrassment warring with reluctant acquiescence.
“The preferred term on Gallifrey was ‘Renegade’,” he said finally, almost primly, clearly trying to hold onto some shred of dignity - something which was ruined completely when his eyes suddenly widened and he turned to Mickey, grasping his face with both hands and planting a firm kiss on his forehead.
“Renegade! Mickey you are a genius!”
Pivoting on the spot he turned to Martha, leaving Mickey blinking in shock.
“That’s what we were Martha - renegades. The Master, the Rani, Drax, myself and so many others... It was a term applied to anyone who refused to abide by Gallifrey’s non-interference laws and, as I'm sure you've noticed, I do love interfering. But then came the Time War...”
His voice trailed off in a fleeting moment of remembrance, but the ghosts in his eyes were quiet now.
“And then, there was only me left. It’s hard to be a rebel when there’s nothing to rebel against... Which is why, I suppose, it all went wrong.”
As he spoke River had descended the stairs, and now gently brushed his hair out of his eyes, hand lingering over the bruise which was beginning to blossom on his face.
“And I say that it’s time to remember Rule 27 - you're being far too serious, and it doesn't suit you. Come here my beautiful idiot, and let me kiss it better.”
Obediently closing his eyes he leaned forward (much like a little boy who’d been asked by his mother to stand still as she cleaned his face), and River with the utmost gentleness planted a lingering kiss.
“Better?” she asked as she pulled away, and Martha's eyes widened. The bruise had vanished, and the Doctor smiled.
“Much better, thank you dear. One day you’ll have to tell me how you do that...”
“Not a chance,” she laughed, and Martha shook her head.
“Any other tricks up your sleeve?”
“Ah,” the Doctor said, holding up his index finger, before disappearing up to the central console, eyes brimming with excitement, and for a moment he became exceedingly busy pulling levers and turning dials.
As the time rotor started moving, he shimmied back down the stairs, making his way straight between Mickey and Martha, who slowly turned, watching him as he with an exaggerated flourish pulled open the doors.
“This is a good few years late, but Martha? This is for you!”
The doors opened, and she couldn’t help gasping. It seemed as if the sky itself was on fire, untold colours swirling in breathtaking combinations against the blackness of space - just like oil on water - and she was barely aware of the Doctor looping an arm around her shoulders, his other arm around Mickey.
“We are over the coast of Meta Sigmafolio, and it is the 30th of June, 2007. Back then you didn’t want to come, but I thought you should have it anyway.”
Watching the beauty unfolding in front of her, she had to blink back tears. Everything she’d believed had been broken into pieces, but maybe what she’d now been given (the honesty, the thoughtfulness, the strange acquiescence) would help her build something new. Something... closer to the truth.
“Thank you,” she whispered, as a new and unexpected truth dawned on her: She no longer wished that he would love her.
Epilogue
(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): 1700 words approx.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Dedication: For Promethia, who helped make this what it is.
The impact of Martha’s punch was rather satisfying, she thought.
The Doctor staggered, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he still had his arm around Mickey, grasping onto him to steady himself, he would probably have ended up on the floor.
As Mickey instinctively helped to stabilise the Doctor, he turned his head towards Martha, incredulous.
"What the hell was that for woman?" he asked angrily, and she answered without taking her eyes off the Doctor, who was now holding a hand against his face.
“He lied.”
A beat, as Mickey stared at her, jaw dropping.
“You are kidding, right? If Jack was still around would you punch him for flirting?”
She didn’t answer. This was between her and the Doctor.
“Are you sure you’re OK?” River had asked, as Martha had folded her hands around the fine bone china, before closing her eyes and nodding.
“I’m good.”
‘Good’ was relative of course. She felt like the very ground had vanished from under her - as if she was a cartoon character that had been running on thin air, and was now falling, falling, falling...
But he’d taught her well, that marvellous, treacherous Doctor. There was always one thing to hold onto against pain and deceit:
Anger.
So she folded herself around the fury inside, and clung on.
The Doctor slowly lowered his hand, the pain clearly forgotten as he watched her intently.
“Which lie?” he asked carefully - neither surprised, nor shocked or angry; and somehow it just made things worse.
She wanted her Doctor (fire and ice and rage), the one with danger and enchantment shimmering in his eyes (burn with me) - a girl could get lost in those eyes and never get out. She wanted that broken, perilous core, wanted him to lash out, give her something to fight, somewhere to channel her fury.
But all she had was this quiet stranger, who looked at her with apologies he knew were useless and eyes as old as time. She didn’t know what to do with that, so she forced herself to take a step back, mentally - no matter how much better she’d feel by yelling, it wouldn’t give her the result she wanted. So she fixed him with a cool stare, and forced the anger down.
(Deep breath, Martha. Explain it so that he can’t avoid the truth.)
“You made up a lie once, to defeat the Master - remember? About a gun in four parts, strong enough to kill a Time Lord permanently. I used to wonder why that ruse worked. Surely he must have known that you wouldn’t ask me to kill... But then, he was insane.”
She swallowed, face hardening.
“But he knew you better than I did, didn’t he? So much better. After all, the woman you love is a murderer because of you. And I know you’re not dead yet, but you expect her to kill you. Doctor... I spent a year of my life, walking through hell for you. Because I believed you were different. Because I believed you were better. Because I loved you. And now... You do this? To your wife?”
Stopping momentarily, she tried to fight the tears and the bitterness and the hollow, painful space in her chest.
“Davros said you turned people into weapons - I thought that he was just a ranting lunatic, twisting everything out of hatred. Because you told the Master that you would never ask me - or any of us - to kill. Like... it was so obvious it could never be otherwise. But that? That was a lie. Unless killing for you is a special wifely privilege?
He watched her silently for a long moment, his discomfort and defensiveness like the deep, silent swell of the sea, but then he lowered his eyes, head abruptly bowed in defeat.
“No.”
It was a bitter victory, for all that she’d wanted it. But it did allow her to ask the question which had been burning in her mind ever since River had told her how he would die.
“So what did I believe in?”
Lifting his head, he studied her again, and she couldn’t begin to guess at what thoughts were going through his head. She could see the shadow of a bruise now forming, and wondered where all the magic had gone. Was he just a charlatan, a cunning liar who used people? How did any of it fit?
Finally he answered, words slow and careful, his hands clasped together awkwardly - and he couldn’t have been any further from the man she had fallen in love with if he’d suddenly turned ginger.
“You believed in a man who needed your belief in order to exist. Like...” he waved a hand in the air, “...when everyone on Earth said my name, they gave me the power to escape the Master’s control. That’s what you did for me, every day. Martha - your belief created me.”
She stared at him, eyebrows raising.
“Sorry, I... what?”
“Trust is a very powerful thing. I trusted you to save the world, and you became Martha Jones, the Legend. When they looked at you, believing that you could do it - who were you then? Did they believe a lie?”
She opened her mouth, unsure, but didn’t know what to say, as he reached out and grasped onto her shoulders, the shadow of a smile on his face. A strange, very serious sort of smile, that she couldn’t gauge.
“And there, Martha my dear, lies the paradox. When you become a story, you belong to others, and there is no simple truth. The hero of one story, is the villain in another... The Master saved the Toclafane, and you and I and Jack condemned them to the dark and the cold and the end of all things.”
Letting his hands fall, he kept holding her eyes.
“If it helps at all, then I was lying to myself too - because it's nice to be the hero all the time. But then, as River has clearly explained to you, came Demons Run, and I learned that as much as I wanted, I couldn’t run from the truth forever."
Sighing, he pulled a hand through is hair, messing up the smoothness and somehow managing to look even more rueful than before.
"I can’t save her Martha. I can’t save her at all.”
“So... you just gave up? But you never-”
“Listen, are you done yet?” Mickey cut through, leaving both of them to turn to him in surprise. “Martha - I love you, but you’re turning into your mother. Give the guy a break.”
It took a moment for Martha’s brain to compute what she was hearing, and then she shook her head.
“And since when did you suddenly become his best friend?” she asked suspiciously, and Mickey shrugged.
“I dunno, but I don’t know why him screwing up is your business. Can’t you just let it be? I’ve been saying this for years - not that anyone’s ever listened - but he’s not some kind of messiah-”
A peal of laughter broke him off, and they all turned to River, whom they had almost forgotten. She beamed down at them.
“Mickey? You’re a genius! And Sweetie, don’t you dare deny it - you are most certainly a very naughty boy!”
Looking from one to the other the Doctor fidgeted, embarrassment warring with reluctant acquiescence.
“The preferred term on Gallifrey was ‘Renegade’,” he said finally, almost primly, clearly trying to hold onto some shred of dignity - something which was ruined completely when his eyes suddenly widened and he turned to Mickey, grasping his face with both hands and planting a firm kiss on his forehead.
“Renegade! Mickey you are a genius!”
Pivoting on the spot he turned to Martha, leaving Mickey blinking in shock.
“That’s what we were Martha - renegades. The Master, the Rani, Drax, myself and so many others... It was a term applied to anyone who refused to abide by Gallifrey’s non-interference laws and, as I'm sure you've noticed, I do love interfering. But then came the Time War...”
His voice trailed off in a fleeting moment of remembrance, but the ghosts in his eyes were quiet now.
“And then, there was only me left. It’s hard to be a rebel when there’s nothing to rebel against... Which is why, I suppose, it all went wrong.”
As he spoke River had descended the stairs, and now gently brushed his hair out of his eyes, hand lingering over the bruise which was beginning to blossom on his face.
“And I say that it’s time to remember Rule 27 - you're being far too serious, and it doesn't suit you. Come here my beautiful idiot, and let me kiss it better.”
Obediently closing his eyes he leaned forward (much like a little boy who’d been asked by his mother to stand still as she cleaned his face), and River with the utmost gentleness planted a lingering kiss.
“Better?” she asked as she pulled away, and Martha's eyes widened. The bruise had vanished, and the Doctor smiled.
“Much better, thank you dear. One day you’ll have to tell me how you do that...”
“Not a chance,” she laughed, and Martha shook her head.
“Any other tricks up your sleeve?”
“Ah,” the Doctor said, holding up his index finger, before disappearing up to the central console, eyes brimming with excitement, and for a moment he became exceedingly busy pulling levers and turning dials.
As the time rotor started moving, he shimmied back down the stairs, making his way straight between Mickey and Martha, who slowly turned, watching him as he with an exaggerated flourish pulled open the doors.
“This is a good few years late, but Martha? This is for you!”
The doors opened, and she couldn’t help gasping. It seemed as if the sky itself was on fire, untold colours swirling in breathtaking combinations against the blackness of space - just like oil on water - and she was barely aware of the Doctor looping an arm around her shoulders, his other arm around Mickey.
“We are over the coast of Meta Sigmafolio, and it is the 30th of June, 2007. Back then you didn’t want to come, but I thought you should have it anyway.”
Watching the beauty unfolding in front of her, she had to blink back tears. Everything she’d believed had been broken into pieces, but maybe what she’d now been given (the honesty, the thoughtfulness, the strange acquiescence) would help her build something new. Something... closer to the truth.
“Thank you,” she whispered, as a new and unexpected truth dawned on her: She no longer wished that he would love her.
no subject
I really enjoyed this. You get into Martha's head beautifully, and then Micky brings things back to earth. ::loves::
She wanted her Doctor (fire and ice and rage), the one with danger and enchantment shimmering in his eyes (burn with me) - a girl could get lost in those eyes and never get out
I love this line. Poor Martha. At least she got the chance to have some closure!
Watching the beauty unfolding in front of her, she had to blink back tears. Everything she’d believed had been broken into pieces, but maybe what she’d now been given (the honesty, the thoughtfulness, the strange acquiescence) would help her build something new. Something... closer to the truth.
SOOO much love for this bit!
no subject
My pleasure! *curtsies*
I really enjoyed this. You get into Martha's head beautifully, and then Micky brings things back to earth. ::loves::
I absolutely adored writing them all, so I'm happy it hit the spot for you too! And Martha & Mickey are just the most wonderful combination. <3
I love this line. Poor Martha. At least she got the chance to have some closure!
It's one of my favourite lines too, and one of those that stayed the same no matter how much the chapter changed around it. And it was fabulous to give her some closure, and to let her deal with all those issues he left her with.
SOOO much love for this bit!
♥ I needed to end on a light note - to show her that although she'd lost something, she hadn't lost everything. And that maybe what she'd found could be good too.