DW Fic: Fellow Traveller
Title: Fellow Traveller
Author: nancybrown
Characters: Martha, River
Rating: PG
Words: 600
Warnings: off-camera death, destruction and genocide circa TYTNW
Summary: Martha Jones was the only person to escape Japan alive.
AN: Written for spoiler_song's Guns N' Curls Ficathon for coffee_mill's prompt: the year that never was
***
In the last seaside village, Martha delivered two babies and set five broken bones and filled dozens of minds with the story, aided by the translation matrix nestled inside the key around her neck. Everything depends on her, on the words she tells everyone she meets.
She's surprised by what she's found as she travels. Some cities have been taken over by the Toclafane and turned over entirely to technology and industry, working on the Master's timetable. Others have been ignored, the people suddenly thrust back off the grid and relying on their grandparents' means of support: fishing and farming, clusters of communities huddling in terror against the spherical overseers who could at any time come back.
Martha goes where she can, helps and talks and moves on, aching every time. So many of those she leaves behind could use a permanent doctor, not a travelling storyteller who won't be there in a month when the next babies come, when the next plough breaks an arm.
When she crosses the ridge, she sees the woman.
The woman resting casually against a tree has wild blonde curls. Martha hesitates, but she can move slowly, walk right past the stranger if this is one of the Master's minions.
"Hello, Martha," and there goes the thought she might not be seen. Bloody perception filter, she doesn't half know how to make it work when she wants.
"Who are you?"
"A friend. You need to get out of here quickly. He's tracked you down."
"I have a job to do. I'm a doctor."
At the word "doctor," the woman smiles. It's a bitter, knowing smile. She knows the story. Martha can tell.
"You're done here. In less an hour, these islands will burn."
Martha's stomach pulls into a hard lump. She knows these people. She's helped them, with her hands and her words. "I have to go back," she mumbles, turning. She'll return to the village, save whom she can.
"If you do, it will all be for nothing. Japan will burn, they will die, and so will you, and the plan will fail."
"I can't just leave. They're going to be killed." She doesn't even know this woman's name. As she looks, she sees a leather strap on the woman's wrist, twin to the one Martha is borrowing. She's from a future Martha can't bear to contemplate whilst surrounded by the death throes of the world she knew.
"If you leave them now, you can have the chance to save them." It's a mad statement, but the plan itself is mad, and Martha's duty to the world is to create a new reality based on the mad idea.
In the distance, she can already hear screaming. She doesn't want to believe the woman, but she has no choice. She allows the blonde to approach, to place a gentle hand on hers, to activate her own strap. In a flash of light, they are suddenly somewhere else.
Martha feels sick, not just from the transport. "Where are we?"
"Korea. You were headed there next, I believe." Martha nods. The woman steps away. "Good luck, Martha Jones."
"You're not coming with me?"
"Not this time." The woman touches her wrist, and she's gone in a quick, bright light.
It will be days before Martha hears the reports out of Japan. Today, she merely sets her face towards the horizon and looks for another village. There will be babies to deliver, and medicines to administer, and a story to tell. She's a doctor. She will bring healing.
***
The End
***
Author: nancybrown
Characters: Martha, River
Rating: PG
Words: 600
Warnings: off-camera death, destruction and genocide circa TYTNW
Summary: Martha Jones was the only person to escape Japan alive.
AN: Written for spoiler_song's Guns N' Curls Ficathon for coffee_mill's prompt: the year that never was
***
In the last seaside village, Martha delivered two babies and set five broken bones and filled dozens of minds with the story, aided by the translation matrix nestled inside the key around her neck. Everything depends on her, on the words she tells everyone she meets.
She's surprised by what she's found as she travels. Some cities have been taken over by the Toclafane and turned over entirely to technology and industry, working on the Master's timetable. Others have been ignored, the people suddenly thrust back off the grid and relying on their grandparents' means of support: fishing and farming, clusters of communities huddling in terror against the spherical overseers who could at any time come back.
Martha goes where she can, helps and talks and moves on, aching every time. So many of those she leaves behind could use a permanent doctor, not a travelling storyteller who won't be there in a month when the next babies come, when the next plough breaks an arm.
When she crosses the ridge, she sees the woman.
The woman resting casually against a tree has wild blonde curls. Martha hesitates, but she can move slowly, walk right past the stranger if this is one of the Master's minions.
"Hello, Martha," and there goes the thought she might not be seen. Bloody perception filter, she doesn't half know how to make it work when she wants.
"Who are you?"
"A friend. You need to get out of here quickly. He's tracked you down."
"I have a job to do. I'm a doctor."
At the word "doctor," the woman smiles. It's a bitter, knowing smile. She knows the story. Martha can tell.
"You're done here. In less an hour, these islands will burn."
Martha's stomach pulls into a hard lump. She knows these people. She's helped them, with her hands and her words. "I have to go back," she mumbles, turning. She'll return to the village, save whom she can.
"If you do, it will all be for nothing. Japan will burn, they will die, and so will you, and the plan will fail."
"I can't just leave. They're going to be killed." She doesn't even know this woman's name. As she looks, she sees a leather strap on the woman's wrist, twin to the one Martha is borrowing. She's from a future Martha can't bear to contemplate whilst surrounded by the death throes of the world she knew.
"If you leave them now, you can have the chance to save them." It's a mad statement, but the plan itself is mad, and Martha's duty to the world is to create a new reality based on the mad idea.
In the distance, she can already hear screaming. She doesn't want to believe the woman, but she has no choice. She allows the blonde to approach, to place a gentle hand on hers, to activate her own strap. In a flash of light, they are suddenly somewhere else.
Martha feels sick, not just from the transport. "Where are we?"
"Korea. You were headed there next, I believe." Martha nods. The woman steps away. "Good luck, Martha Jones."
"You're not coming with me?"
"Not this time." The woman touches her wrist, and she's gone in a quick, bright light.
It will be days before Martha hears the reports out of Japan. Today, she merely sets her face towards the horizon and looks for another village. There will be babies to deliver, and medicines to administer, and a story to tell. She's a doctor. She will bring healing.
***
The End
***