Chapter Text
Martha managed to press the ‘call’ button despite her trembling hands, and Jack picked up almost immediately, thank God.
She didn’t bother with formalities. “Are you still at home right now? At my parents’ place, I mean?”
“Yes. What’s wrong?” Jack, bless him, had apparently read something from her tone, and he wasn’t losing time with small talk either.
“You can drive, right?” Martha felt her voice going too high, anxiety creeping in too far, words tumbling too fast. “I’d do it myself, but it’d take me at least 30 minutes to get back home by foot, and I’ve never driven Mum’s new car before ‘cause it’s a manual, and the only times I drove a manual car were during the Year and it was terrifying, and Tish sounded really bad–”
“I can drive,” Jack interrupted, “but I can also have UNIT send a helicopter and a group of agents wherever you or Tish need me to, in a matter of minutes.” He was utterly serious, Martha realised immediately, a bit shocked.
“No, that’s… that’s really nice of you, but I think seeing UNIT would freak her out. What Tish needs right now is someone she knows, someone safe, like me or you,” the young woman tried to explain.
Jack let out a brief sound that was too bitter to be called a laugh. “Definitely not me, but okay. Where are you? I’ll pick you up.”
Martha frowned at that weird response, but there was no time to comment on it. She did her best to describe her location, and Jack hung up.
He arrived much faster than she had thought possible, and she wondered just how many traffic laws he had broken to achieve that. Only after she got in the car and gave him directions on where to find Tish did it dawn on her that she hadn’t even told him exactly what was happening. Not that she knew much herself. But still, Jack’s immediate loyalty was warming something in her chest. His loyalty, and his reliability. She could have asked the Doctor, too – but he didn’t have a phone, and although she didn’t doubt for one second his willingness to help, she also knew far too well that he wasn’t always the best person to consult when you needed practical, real-world solutions to an issue. Even if he’d had a fully functional Tardis, she probably wouldn’t have asked him. They would have been way too likely to end up in a completely different time and place than the intended one. The Doctor was a lot of things, but ‘reliable’ wasn’t exactly high on the list.
“So, er… Tish called me,” Martha said hesitantly. “She sounded… bad. I think she had a panic attack or something. And she asked if I could come pick her up, and obviously I wanted to, but I didn’t know how to get there, and I thought of you – hope it’s not too much of a bother.”
“Of course not,” Jack immediately replied. “I’m glad you called me. You can always call me, whatever you need, you know that, right?”
“Thank you,” the young woman replied, feeling like she could suddenly breathe a bit more easily.
She wouldn’t admit it to Tish, of course, but hearing that her sister was in distress had made her react very strongly, reactivating awful memories of being utterly helpless while hearing echoes of her family’s suffering. It had happened a lot, during the past year. Martha did her best to push it all away.
At least she wasn’t alone anymore. “You’re a great friend, you know,” she told Jack.
Who shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “No need to thank me. It’s the least I can do, really.”
“No, it’s not,” Martha protested. “Why do you always downplay everything you do for me, for us?”
“It’s the least I can do,” he repeated.
Martha huffed and stayed silent, telling herself that she shouldn’t distract Jack from his driving. He was going much faster than limitations allowed, and right in the middle of London, at that. A year ago, she would have been extremely nervous about it. Now, she was just glad that Tish wouldn’t have to wait too long. Funny how having to escape a mad, evil alien who controlled most of the planet could change one’s apprehension of danger.
The silence was becoming uncomfortable, though. “I don’t know if Tish told you – she was on her way to a job interview,” the young woman said. “We all tried to tell her to take it easy, to maybe wait and rest some more, but she insisted.”
“If she needs an excuse for missing the interview, tell her I can have someone at UNIT backing up anything she wants to tell them,” Jack replied.
Again, something in that response was… off. “We’ll pick her up in a matter of minutes, with the speed you’re going at. You can make the offer yourself, you know.”
Jack did not answer.
They had arrived at Tottenham Court Road. Jack didn’t bother looking for a legitimate parking spot – he simply drove the car half on the sidewalk and told his passenger that he would wait for her there.
Martha had kept her phone in her hand, and she immediately called back her sister to get indications on where exactly in the station she could find her. Tish’s voice was still shaky. When Martha spotted her, her sister was pressed against a wall as if she was hoping to merge with it and disappear.
“I’m s- sorry,” Tish stammered. “I made you come all the way here and–”
“None of that,” Martha interrupted gently. “I’m glad you called me, okay? You did the right thing. I’m here now. It’s okay. Everything will be okay. Just come with me, alright?”
But Tish didn’t move. Her shoulders were hunched, her arms wrapped around herself in a sad parody of a protective embrace. Martha felt her heart beat too fast, something clenching painfully in her chest. Praying that her voice would sound stronger than she felt, she asked, “Can I hug you?”
A tiny nod.
Martha took a step forward to hold her sister and squeezed her body as hard as she could against hers. “You’re okay,” she murmured. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay...” She wasn’t sure anymore which of them most needed the hug.
x-x-x
They walked out of the station in silence. Tish was gripping Martha’s arm too hard, but Marha didn’t mind. She welcomed the reminder of her sister’s presence at her side. A bit of pain really wasn’t much of a price to pay for that.
She had already opened the car’s front door when Tish saw Jack in the driver’s seat. And froze.
“I don’t know how to drive a car with a manual gear,” Martha reminded her, ill-at-ease. “Or I’m pretty terrible at it, at least, and our folks left with Dad’s car this morning, so there was only Mum’s by the house. I would have called a cab, but it would have taken longer, and Jack was there, and he knows how to drive Mum’s car, so… Is there something wrong?”
Tish shook her head no, but she looked even tenser than before, if such a thing was possible.
“Do you want the front seat, or would you rather sit in the back?” Martha asked.
“In the back,” Tish immediately said.
Her sister nodded and opened the designated car door.
“You should probably sit in the back with her,” Jack said. His words seemed to startle Tish, Martha noticed.
“Is that what you want, Tish?” the young woman asked.
A nod.
“Okay then.” She sat as close to her sister as humanly possible and took her hand. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“Nothing!” Tish sounded on the verge of tears. “Nothing happened! I just… panicked… for no reason! I… It’s stupid,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Martha replied firmly. “Do you have any idea what made you panic?”
“I…” Tish hesitated. “I think… there were many people in the wagon, it was very full, and I just… I needed to get out.”
“Okay,” Martha said, her tone soothing. “It happens, it’s no big deal.”
“No, it doesn’t! It doesn’t just happen! Normal people are able to take the bloody Tube without having something like a panic attack over absolutely nothing! And I… I don’t get it! It’s not even the first time I’m taking the Tube since the Year That Never Was, and it never happened before!”
“Well, maybe it was less crowded, the previous times?”
But Tish shook her head. “I’m pretty sure that’s not even the case! It’s just… I don’t know, guess I’m just broken now,” she said, her voice somewhere halfway between a hysterical laugh and a sob.
“That’s not true,” Martha replied. There were tears in her own eyes, too, and her voice was trembling.
“Were there people behind you?”
Again, Jack’s voice seemed to startle Tish.
“What?”
“In the Tube. Was your back against something or were there people behind you?”
“I was in the middle of people standing up,” Tish replied.
“Was it also the case on the previous times you took the Tube since the end of the Year?”
“I don’t remember. What does it have to do with anything? I mean, even if there’s like, trauma or something, why would the crowd be a problem? N- none of the… the… bad stuff had anything to do with being in a crowded place, it doesn’t make any sense!” Tish’s voice was still unsteady, but she was also starting to sound almost angry.
“Trauma doesn’t always make sense,” Jack said, his tone very soft. “But I’ve known lots of soldiers who got extremely uncomfortable whenever there were people right behind them. It’s a common PTSD thing, I think.”
“Well it’s– it’s… it’s stupid!” Tish stammered. “I’m not a bloody soldier! And I shouldn’t break down on the way to some random job interview!” Tears were running down her face.
“Hey, stop that,” Martha intervened. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? You’re going to be alright, I promise.”
“You can’t promise that,” her sister replied harshly. “Haven’t you learnt anything? I might have believed you before, but I know better now.”
Martha flinched and moved away from her, staring at the buildings they were passing by without seeing them. She would not cry. She would not. Her eyes were burning, but that was just because she was refusing to blink. No other reason.
“I’m sorry,” Tish murmured after several minutes of silence. “I’m sorry, Mar’. I… I was just being an arsehole. I… it’s… you know I’m grateful for everything you do for me, for the family, right? It’s just… you’re handling everything perfectly, like you always do, I mean you’ve gone back to your studies like nothing happened, and you’re acing it as usual, and me, I… I just feel like a complete failure, that’s all.”
“You idiot,” Martha replied, torn between tears and an incongruous bubble of laughter. “You really think I’m handling everything perfectly? I’m a complete mess! The studies thing, it’s just… it’s easier to focus on that, because it makes sense, at least, and when I’m doing that I don’t have to think about other things, but it’s not… it doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing, believe me.”
“Oh, Mar’…” Tish found back her sister’s hand and squeezed it hard. “Well, that makes me feel even more like an arsehole, good job,” she mumbled with exaggerated grumpiness.
Martha managed a tiny smile. “And that was exactly my goal, of course. It’s like you said – I ace everything I do, right?”
They looked at each other. “I’m sorry,” Tish repeated.
“Don’t be. We’re together now – we’ll figure something out. We always do.”
Tish threw an arm around her sister’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmured.
In the rearview mirror, Martha briefly met Jack’s eyes. The expression on his face had been awfully sad – but he startled and morphed it into something neutral as soon as he realised she had caught it.
She wondered if he was thinking about his own family, wherever or whenever they were. She wondered if he felt left out. She wondered if he felt lonely.
x-x-x
Martha didn’t get to speak to Jack much before the next day. Despite knowing that it was somewhat illogical, she had been unwilling to let Tish out of her sight for more than a few moments, after the fright she got from her sister’s panicked phone call.
(Martha would have left Tish alone if she had requested it, of course. Her family’s well-being was one of the most important things in the world, always. But Tish hadn’t seemed to mind the company – quite the opposite.)
And Jack, on the other hand, tended to act like he couldn’t get away from Tish fast enough. Which was starting to get a bit puzzling. But he was very good at deflecting, and Martha didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by asking too many questions.
Still, she needed to thank him, and to make sure that he was alright – or as close to alright as could get someone who remembered the Year That Never Was. After a good night of sleep, Tish looked better, and Martha really wanted to check on her friend.
As on most Saturday mornings, Jack was helping the Doctor with repairs in the Tardis. Martha crossed the blue doors and was welcomed by a beaming smile from the Time Lord.
“Martha!” The Doctor exclaimed. Some of the cheer in his voice was forced, but he was trying. “How are you? Did you have a nice morning? Is Tish feeling better?” And, after a second of hesitation – “If… if she needs something, or if you need something… you know you can call me, right? I’m always happy to help!”
“You don’t have a phone, Doctor,” Martha replied – very fondly. “But thanks for saying that. I appreciate the sentiment, I really do.”
The Time Lord blinked, looking almost comically offended. “What do you mean I don’t have a phone? The Tardis has made herself a giant phone box! Sure, she doesn’t technically work right now, and the phone part hasn’t really been in use recently, in fact I might have taken it apart a little in order to fix the blueberry toaster, and I’m not sure there’s a number you can call, exactly, but… okay, I’m starting to see your point. I haven’t been very easy to reach lately, have I?
The young woman hesitated. “Maybe not,” she admitted, “but I know you’ve started to make an effort. And… like I said, I really appreciate it.”
The Doctor was visibly embarrassed, clearly unsure how to answer her declaration. True to himself, he therefore started talking twenty miles a minutes – something about the technology behind a weird alien communication system, and did Martha know that he had actually contributed to the invention of cell phones? Also, it was possible to train squirrels to carry messages, but they weren’t always entirely reliable ‘cause they had a tendency to eat a part of whatever you gave them to carry, and–
Martha watched him, affection swelling in her chest, and couldn’t help but smile. “It’s nice to see you sounding like yourself, Doctor.” She turned towards the other man in the room. “What about you, Jack? How are you feeling?”
“Oh, fine,” the immortal replied with a smile far too bright to be honest.
The young human and the Time Lord glanced at each other. The Doctor’s eyes had turned sad.
Martha knew that he and Jack had recently started sleeping in the same bed. She did not think that they were having sex, but they shared a room whenever one of them admitted to feeling tired (which did not happen that often: both were stubborn and terribly bad at anything vaguely resembling self-care). She wasn’t sure that they were really talking to each other, either, except for the most trivial things (their lack of communication skills was almost impressive) but it was still far better than it had been in the first days following the Year That Never Was, when the Doctor had been actively avoiding everyone.
Better, but certainly not ideal. Martha had not really been able to talk with the Time Lord much, even recently. He was trying to be supportive, she was sure of it, but… sometimes, helping required more than just good intentions.
She had been very vocal about her opinion that everyone needed to be more open about their feelings, and the Doctor seemed to agree, in theory, but he clearly didn’t believe that the notion could apply to him. Half of the time, Martha got the infuriating impression that he just wanted to humour her.
And with Jack… well, many discussions tended to play out in the exact same way – with him insisting that he was doing perfectly fine, before deflecting and moving the conversation to an entirely new topic. The young woman would really have liked to believe that he confided in the Doctor sometimes, when she was not present, but she highly doubted it.
“Do you want to grab a coffee with me?” Martha still asked her human friend, hoping against hope that she would somehow be able to get him to open up a little if it was just the two of them.
Jack hesitated, glancing at the Doctor almost as if to ask for permission. “I need to re-calibre the internal sensors of the time-inertia dampeners,” the alien said. “And that’s more of a one-Time Lord’s job, really. Go with Martha, don’t worry about me. I’m sure we’ll get to tinker with the old girl together some more later.”
“Right,” the immortal replied with another forced smile. “I could probably use a break anyway.”
“Yup, definitely,” the Doctor declared. “Humans in general aren’t particularly quick with spatiotemporal hyperscanners, but you’ve been clumsy and slow all morning.”
Jack’s shoulders hunched and he did not reply. Martha felt her jaw clench. “I think what you mean is, ‘Thank you, Jack, you’ve been a great help, now get a well-deserved break’, isn’t it, Doctor?”
“What? No, I–” But the Time Lord caught her pointed glare and stopped himself. “Oh, is that what you were talking about the other day when you said I was rude? Right, then, er, well, that’s…”
“It’s okay, Doctor, don’t worry,” Jack interrupted. But Martha couldn’t help feeling that he still looked like a kicked puppy.
“No, but I meant, er, you know, what she said,” their alien friend mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck in an embarrassed gesture.
Martha sighed. She wordlessly extended a hand in Jack’s direction to steer him towards the exit, but he didn’t take it, saying he didn’t want to dirty her with engine grease.
After a quick stop by the bathroom (although his hands didn’t actually seem very unclean), they started walking towards their favourite café. They always ordered the fanciest drinks on the menu – Martha very much enjoyed seeing Jack get a flat white mocha with whipped cream and extra caramel syrup or something equally decadent. In her experience, many men could get absurdly self-conscious about drinking stuff like that; but Jack would laugh, make a quip about 21st century gender norms, and enjoy some whipped cream.
Once inside the cosy little coffee shop, they wordlessly chose a small table that allowed them to sit side by side with their backs to a wall. Martha had noticed very early that Jack was always on his guard and tended to be more comfortable when he could see every entrance and exit. It had not been very difficult to notice, because… as much as she hated it, she kind of had the same issue now.
She remembered Jack’s remark to Tish, the day before, about former soldiers panicking when there were people right behind them. Martha had thought that it could perhaps apply to her sister, and definitely to Jack himself, but… couldn’t it also apply to her? She couldn’t stand being startled anymore. It used to be a game, with Leo, a siblings thing – Leo would sneak up on her at the most unlikely moments and yell or jump suddenly to get a reaction from her. It used to be fun. Before, Martha grumbled a lot, but she very much enjoyed these light-hearted moments with her brother. Now…
Leo had tried startling her last week. It was just a joke. For old times’ sake. Or perhaps it was an attempt to reconnect with her a little, to get back some semblance of normalcy. But Martha had jumped, barely refrained from hitting him, and felt her heart still beating too hard in her chest for more than ten minutes after the incident. She knew there had been no real danger, but the adrenaline just wouldn’t leave her body. It felt awful.
She shook her head and did her best to force the memory away. Jack needed her.
Does he though? Aren’t you doing exactly what you always blame him for – focusing on everyone else’s needs and ignoring your own feelings?
Martha ignored the nasty little voice in her head and asked Jack about what he had done on the previous day after driving them safely back home.
He explained that he had been called over by people from UNIT, who had “more stupid questions to ask, what a surprise.”
It was indeed not unexpected – he had been working with them quite a lot, since the end of the Year That Never Was. Although Martha suddenly realised, with a pang to her chest, that she did not even know why, exactly, Jack was being called so often by the powerful organisation.
“What is it that UNIT needs you for anyway?" she asked. “If they bother you so much, can’t you tell them to shove off or something?”
Jack shrugged. "I guess I could, but… they're collecting as much data about the Year as they can. What happened, what it impacted, who died, who survived, who resisted, who worked for him. It’s annoying, but it’s good that they’re taking it seriously. They want to interview everyone who had direct interactions with the Master–” his fists clenched as he said the name – “and to check every major change, to make sure there's no permanent effect from anything."
Martha furrowed her brow. "So, they're going to want to talk to me, aren't they? And... won't they ask my family, too?"
"Nah, don't worry, I took care of it," Jack replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"What do you mean?"
"I didn't want any of you to have to deal with those clowns, so I worked around it," he answered.
"Worked around it?" the young woman repeated. "How?"
Jack shrugged again. "Reminded them that you were civilians. Asked for a delay. Made sure to leave a loophole you'll be able to use if you'd rather not talk to them at all."
"Thank you," Martha murmured. She didn’t know if she would have been ready to answer a bunch of official questions about her actions during the Year That Never Was. She couldn’t help remembering an article she had read for her studies, about "re-traumatising" and how being forced to talk about a traumatic event in unsafe conditions could worsen the initial trauma. But...
"What about you, though? Why don't you get a break before talking to them?"
Her question was met with a genuine look of confusion. “Me? No, that’s…” But Jack seemed to recover from his surprise rather quickly. “Honey, it’s really nice of you to think about that, but I’m fine, you know.”
His smile was guarded. An effective mask, most of the time, but a mask nonetheless.
“Are you, Jack?” Martha asked softly. “Are you really?”
This time, he did not reply immediately. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?” he murmured after several seconds of silence.
The young woman shook her head and scooted closer to Jack before putting an arm around his shoulder to draw him into a one-armed hug. “You do,” she insisted. “And you don’t have to pretend, Jack. Not in front of me. You’re allowed to feel things, okay?”
The immortal seemed to relax a little in her embrace. “Thank you,” he murmured.
“No need for thanks. After everything you’ve done for me, for my family… you know I’m the one who’s eternally grateful to you, right?”
She meant every word of her declaration, but she had used a light tone, almost teasing, hoping it would keep Jack from feeling embarrassed somehow. But it did not work. He tensed again, perhaps even more than before, and immediately moved away from her.
“Don’t say things like that, Martha,” he replied harshly.
“What? Why not?”
“It’s not… I… Just don’t, okay?”
Jack got up and walked away from their table before she could answer. He immediately went to the counter and gave their waitress two 20 pounds notes, telling her to keep the change (which would amount to almost twice the price of their drinks) before taking hurried steps towards the exit. Dumbstruck, Martha stared worriedly at his retreating back, wondering what had gone wrong.