Story [Doctor Who] Angel--One of Martha's travels during the year that never was--Angst

Author's note: I have long felt that Martha had an unique role to fill. Her function as the Doctor's emissary reminded me of the work of a missionary and I have an essay that I could write on that subject. But I was remembering a verse from John, Chapter 1 the other day and this came out of that memory.
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Most places, there wasn?t a safe haven. Martha had camped everywhere from the Italian Alps to a forgotten parking lot in Queens. In Nice, there were seaside resorts that had been left intact to mock the devastated and decimated population and she had shared the Presidential Suite in the Hôtel Massena with nineteen factory workers. On one memorable night, she had been chased into what had once been the Florentine Boboli Gardens and had hidden for a few hours in la Grotta di Buontalenti.

Most nights, she had no place to rest her head. She taught herself how to sleep in one-hour shifts and in a variety of positions.

Tomorrow, she would stow away on one of the ships headed for Hiroshima, where the Master was exercising a bit of irony in building a nuclear reactor. Tonight, however, she was in San Francisco and waiting on the corner of Geary and Gough for her good Samaritan.

She knew nothing about the man except that he was the nephew of her last host, a kind RN in Denver. She would know him by a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, a leather-bound book and the tendency to hang out well after curfew.

In the last six hours, only two people had passed wearing those kinds of glasses, neither of them carrying a book. Maybe the message had never gotten to him. Maybe he had recognized the danger of harboring a fugitive and turned tail. She wouldn?t blame him if he had; the acts of violence committed against freedom-fighters and allies of the Doctor were legendary by now. She only needed to be at the port by nine a.m. and she could certainly sleep once they set sail.

No, there he was. A lithe, unsmiling man carrying...

Her host in Denver had not mentioned that her brother was a priest. Martha nearly lost her nerve right then and there, but the man chose to sit calmly on a front stoop and wait. If he waited too long, he would be at risk for arrest. She couldn?t let that happen, so she reluctantly slipped the string of the TARDIS key over her head and shoved it in her jacket pocket.

?Father??

His dark eyes focused on her immediately with a level of suspicion that seemed to be universal these days. She kept her stance as benign as possible and took a seat next to him before unslinging her backpack.

?Bit late for a stroll, isn?t it, Father??

He kept his expression neutral, but she could almost feel his fear. She was hardly dressed like a refugee and for all he knew, she was one of the Master?s enforcers. The Toclafane did just fine as guards, but there were humans who thought they could save their own skins by being just as brutal and they tended to police the streets when there were no Toclafane in sight.

But the enforcers were the types to shoot first and ask questions later. When the good Father still didn?t respond, she reached into the front pocket of her pack and extracted a strange talisman: a Barbie doll.

?Martha Jones,? he greeted after a moment. His voice was strangely roughened by emotion as he considered the cheap plastic toy. ?I?m Father Davison. Come with me.?

She didn?t question, but was silently grateful to Sarah Conley of Denver, Colorado who had convinced her that the doll would buy her a place to stay for the night. Martha hadn?t been able to find out why.

Their first destination was, unsurprisingly, a church. A sign out front announced it to be the Cathedral of Saint Mary of the Assumption, but he led her to an office and unlocked the door before turning on a low light near the door.

?Come in,? he invited. ?I?m sorry we can?t offer you much, but the rectory is already functioning as a homeless shelter and I think you want some privacy.?

?I?ll stay wherever you like,? Martha assured him. ?Are there many people awake there??

?I shouldn?t think so,? Davison responded. ?They

 

I think you did Martha justice, there. You captured the hopelessness of the Year That Never Was quite well. I liked the priest, too. All in all, excellent.

 

Inspired and very beautiful.

 

This was lovely, a small indication of what she meant to the people who heard her, and what they meant to her.

 

RK_Striker_JK_5--Thanks. I've always been pretty good at pegging Donna, but the only way I was able to channel Martha was to think of her in this light. T

Mar17swgirl--Thanks, Mar. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Lilith Demodae--Yay, you found this! (Not that I don't appreciate the other comments, but I can say something extra that you'd probably understand.) When I was in the MTC, I was in a Devotional where the speaker (I think it was Charles Didier) said that one of the most powerful tools of missionary work is that we come to the people of the world not asking for anything but giving them something and coming to them in their own language. So when I was thinking about Martha as a very unconventional missionary/messenger for the Doctor, I remembered that Devotional and the fact that the TARDIS lets her speak and understand any language. Then I figured that there might spring up some kind of urban legend around her more than usual because no matter where Martha Jones goes, she's able to reach the people in their own language. That was part of the inspiration for this and I might do another chapter on this. Or a tie-in. It would also be funny, now that I've written about her being sheltered by a Catholic priest, to have her run into the Mormon missionaries. You'd have to wonder whether or not there were any out in the field during the year that never was...Okay, I'm never going to get off this rambling thought if I don't shut up right now.

 

Devotionals are a great source of inspiration of all sorts. I heartily approve.

LOL. Now I have this image of the Tardis materializing and then the Doctor hearing a knock on the door...

 

LOL, well, you're talking to the girl who sent two Elders to the Cullens in Forks, WA in a fic.

 

Heh. I may have to break my 'No Twilight' rule for that one.

And just save us both some time and PM me anytime you post something new.