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“You know, it is a party. You should really try to relax.”
Martha shot Mickey a dirty look.
Immediately, he relented, throwing up his hands in surrender. He’d managed to squeeze into a tuxedo for the occasion. Rented, but well-made and clean. He looked pretty damn good.
“Alright,” Mickey said, “I don’t blame you. But you and I both know there’s only three exits out of this building, and one door to get in this room. The windows are bolted shut. No one’s sneaking in here, and if there is an attack, you’ll definitely notice it.”
Martha nodded in appreciation, lip curling in amusement. “You’re learning.”
Their small gaggle of friends and family were milling around the room, most of the younger ones showing off their horrific dancing on the dance floor. The DJ was playing a nondescript beat, and Martha liked it, she did, but she couldn’t help but wonder what noises she’d be able to pick up on if it were just a tad lower.
Someone tugged on her dress, and she looked down, smiling.
“Auntie M?” Keisha asked, eyes big and pleading. “Can we please have the cake now?”
Martha’s seven-year-old niece had seen The Wizard of Oz only once before she decided to borrow Dorothy’s term for her own aunt to refer to Martha. Despite Martha’s best efforts, it had stuck. She couldn’t bring herself to mind.
“You probably won’t even like the cake, Keisha,” Martha said. “It’s vanilla.”
“Vanilla’s my favorite!”
“Since when? You love chocolate.”
The little girl sighed with much more sarcasm than should exist in someone that small. “Since three months ago, Auntie M! Chocolate hasn’t been my first favorite for ages, it’s my second favorite!”
“Ohh,” Martha nodded, eyes wide and genuine. “Of course. How could I forget?”
She pulled the little girl up onto her lap with a grunt, and the two of them (and Mickey, still sitting next to Martha, watching the two of them with thinly veiled amusement) watched their relatives make fools of themselves on the dance floor.
“Hey Auntie M?”
“Mmm?”
“Where’s that man? I thought he was coming today.”
Martha’s eyebrows narrowed. “What man?”
Keisha giggled. “You know! The funny man. He was dressed really weird, and he’s your friend, and Uncle Mickey’s friend, and he gave me this bracelet!”
Keisha wiggled her wrist in front of Martha’s face. It fit her tiny wrist perfectly, and was made of deep red beads that shone almost unnaturally in the light.
Martha grabbed her niece’s arm and ripped the bracelet off, studying it.
“Auntie M, that’s mine!”
“Keisha,” Martha said, voice shaking only slightly, “go find your father, alright?”
“But-”
“If you go with your dad and stay with him for five minutes,” Mickey interrupted, “I promise we’ll have the cake soon.”
Huffing, the little girl ran off. Martha was still inspecting the bracelet. She ran her fingers over the smooth jewels, spinning the bracelet until she found-
Oh, god.
Martha ripped the small tracking device off the bracelet with her fingernails (there went that manicure, she supposed). She picked up the nearest tool- a butterknife- and crushed it against the table.
She turned to Mickey, who was already staring at her, eyes wide.
“I told you we should’ve brought weapons,” she hissed.
Mickey sighed.
“I hoped it wouldn’t have to come to this,” he muttered, reaching under the table. He felt around until Martha heard something catch, and his hands came away with two UNIT-regulation tasers and a small stun gun.
Martha beamed at him.
“You think we should evacuate, or try to find whoever was tracking Keisha without disturbing the party?” Mickey asked evenly.
“The second,” Martha replied decisively. “They’d listen if we told them to get out, but it’d create mass panic, no matter how we do it. And think about the kids.”
“Right.” Mickey smiled at her, semi-hysterically. “You take the east, I’ll take the west?”
Martha leaned in and kissed him quick before grabbing one of the tasers. “Not a bad way to spend your wedding day, is it?”
As casually as possible, the two of them checked the perimeter of the large party room, communicating silently across the room through shared glances and gestures. Nothing.
Whoever it was, they surely wouldn’t be stupid enough to just walk in the front door. But, Martha figured she should check it anyway.
She turned the handle on the frosted glass door and peered into the hallway, taser at the ready.
“Surprise!”
Martha stumbled backwards, nearly falling to the ground as she tripped over the carpet in her five-inch heels.
“Woah!”
A hand reached out and grabbed her by the arm, hoisting her upright. She still couldn’t see the man’s face, as it was completely hidden by an absolutely gigantic bouquet of yellow daffodils.
“Er,” Martha began, extremely confused by what seemed to not be an imminent threat. “Mister? This is a private party.”
The man ducked around the bouquet, grinning madly. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. His hair was slick with product, curling down around one temple. He had a bowtie fastened around his throat, and a dark purple tweed jacket. And as far as Martha could tell, he was completely human.
“Martha!” he exclaimed.
Martha's left hand clenched around her taser and her right reached for the holster she usually had strapped to her hip, but met only white silk.
“Yes, that’s me,” she began hesitantly. “Do I…”
“Oh!” he cried, his whole face opening up into an exaggerated caricature of surprise. “It’s me! Changed my face again! Well, I suppose you don’t have any frame of reference, do you? Only met the one. Guess that’s a plus one in my column, I don’t die too often, even though it seems to be happening on an exponentially quicker and quicker basis. I’m going to make a note of that. Martha, you should make a note of that and remind me later.”
Martha’s jaw was practically on the floor. “Doctor?”
His face melted into something softer, a quiet smile on his lips. “Hello, Martha Jones.”
“Why-”
“Oh, hello, Martha!”
Before Martha could blink, she was being embraced by someone who smelled like jasmine.
“Er,” Martha said.
“It’s so nice to see you again!” the woman said. Martha was too stunned not to hug back.
When the woman stepped away, grasping the Doctor’s elbow, Martha’s brain came back online.
The woman was dressed in a stunning blush-pink gown, hoisting up the ends of her skirt to reveal black, strappy leather heels. She had on a beige jacket, short-sleeved, short enough to fall just above her waist. Her blonde hair was hanging in artful tresses around her face, and she was beaming.
And she was-
She was-
“Wait. Wait, wait. Hold on,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose, bringing up her other hand in a stop gesture.
“Woah, taser, watch the face!” the Doctor cried out.
“You’re Rose,” Martha said. “But you- you’re in another universe, aren’t you? How did you-”
The Doctor sighed exaggeratedly. Martha knew, in that instant, that this really was the Doctor, because the slight lines of tension around his eyes gave away how anxious he was feeling. Don’t ask about that.
Martha sighed, trying to compose herself as best she could. “It’s very nice to see you. Both of you. But I think we’re about to be attacked.”
“What?” Rose exclaimed. “But it’s your wedding!”
“Yes,” Martha said, mentally retracing her steps and wondering if there was an exit or entrance she had missed, “but some man talked to my seven-year-old niece and gave her a bracelet with a tracking device. We've got to find him before he can hurt anyone here.”
“About that,” the Doctor said.
Rose turned to him, gaze murderous. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, look, a table!” said the Doctor. There was indeed a small end table right next to the doorway Martha was still standing in. The Doctor switched to holding his giant bouquet with only one hand, and pulled a large glass vase filled with water out of…his pocket? Really? He set the vase and flowers down on the table, picking at nonexistent lint and compulsively rearranging them, most likely so he didn’t have to turn around and face the two women currently burning holes in the back of his head with their eyes.
“Doctor,” Rose growled.
The Doctor finally turned around, clasped his hands together, and smiled weakly. “I wanted it to be a surprise?”
Rose raised an eyebrow. “So there wasn’t any other way to find out where and when our wedding reception was without accosting a young girl and secretly tracking her every move?”
Martha burst out laughing.
The two turned to look at her with identical expressions of disbelief.
Martha leaned into the doorway, holding her stomach with one hand. “God, I’ve missed you.”
The Doctor beamed.
An hour or so later, Martha and the Doctor were sitting together, tasers discarded on the tablecloth, eating cake. They both watched with amusement as Mickey led Rose around the dancefloor, the two of them laughing and tripping all over each other.
She was so happy, for both of them. Mickey had told her all about Rose. They hadn’t worked as a couple, never did, but she remained his best and closest friend. Losing her, even just to another dimension, had been devastating.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked. “When you saved us. When you were still, you know, wearing your trench coat.”
The Doctor’s smile faded. He picked at his cake.
He spoke, but his voice was so quiet, Martha could barely hear him over the music. “I was not in a good place when you saw me last, Martha Jones.”
“What happened?” she asked, half-hoping he wouldn’t answer.
“I died,” he stated simply. “A few minutes before I saw you and Mickey fighting the Sontaran, that day. I was…I tried to wrap up as many loose ends as I could. Do as much good before I couldn’t anymore.”
Martha hesitated. He was so different from her, from any human. There was a quiet grief there that she could never even begin to understand.
“But you’re here,” she insisted. “You’re still alive, you’ve got Rose. You didn’t die.”
He met her gaze with those deep-set, startlingly wise green eyes. “I did, though. I’m still the Doctor. But…I’m not him, not really. I’ll never be him again. And there was so much I wanted to do in that body that I never got to.”
He took a deep breath, for so long that it seemed almost painful. “Right. Well. That’s life. You know, I really didn’t mean to scare you, with Keisha. She’s a wonderful little girl. Reminds me a lot of her aunt. I think she’d be a phenomenal doctor one day.”
“Doctor.”
“Really, and I’m not just saying that. She seemed like a smart kid. You should encourage her to study as much as she can. While still taking breaks for fun, of course. Learning is great, but school is ridiculous. Ooo, maybe I can bring her a thumbdrive of a few of the virtual learning sessions from thirty-five twenty-six-”
“Are you alright?”
The Doctor froze, mid-gesture. He swallowed. He shrank back into himself, jaw working.
He lifted his eyes to the dance floor once again. Martha followed his gaze to Rose’s laughing face, her skirt spinning around her.
“I am now,” the Doctor whispered.
Martha grinned into her drink.
“So,” said the Doctor. “Ricky.”
Martha smacked him on the arm. “Shut up.”
He rubbed his arm, but he was smiling.
“Do you love him?” asked the Doctor.
If only they had been able to have conversations this frank and direct when she was traveling with him on the TARDIS. It might have saved them both a whole lot of awkwardness and heartbreak.
“I do,” she said, grinning. “I really do.”
The Doctor smiled back.
“I’m happy for you,” he said, genuine.
“And I’m happy for you.” Her smile slid into something more teasing. “When I find out about your and Rose’s wedding, I promise not to slide a tracker onto the TARDIS and make you think you’re about to have bombs dropped on your head.”
To Martha’s delight, the Doctor flushed bright red.
“We’re not-” he squeaked. The Doctor coughed into his fist, fiddling with his bowtie, smoothing down his jacket, and running his fingers through his hair.
“We’re not,” he repeated, voice now at its normal tone. “We haven’t- I don’t think- it’s not the same, alright?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
The Doctor had boatloads of baggage, that was certain. But something else was equally as true. The way he looked at Rose when he thought no one was watching him, how different he was now that she was here. The Doctor would always carry his suffering with him, but he’d carry his love for Rose, too. Martha glanced back over at her husband (her husband) and the blonde girl he was attempting to waltz with, and smiled.
They were going to be just fine.