Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

The Doctor [Nine] (heisnoone) wrote in wariscoming,

He knew Martha hurt too, though she kept muddling on like a good soldier was supposed to. They were all hurting. Even the Doctor hurt, though he put on a face that said he didn't. His dark eyes full of a stormy anger rather than the hurt he actually felt. The expression that remained on his face was a stern one, even as he looked out over his TARDIS. He knew Rose wouldn't have wanted him to beat himself up over what had happened, but it was because of him. Because of his ship that she had looked into the Vortex. A place where no human was supposed to be. She'd looked right into the heart of the TARDIS, and if he hadn't come along to sweep her off her feet the first time this never would have happened. She could have had a happy, normal, albiet boring human life. But she still would have had a life to live. Now she didn't, and that was his fault. Her mother had asked one thing of him, to protect her and he couldn't.

He was going to have to become whatever this worlds equivalent of a protector was if he was going to keep those on his ship safe. He was determined to let no more of them suffer. They'd suffered enough. Martha had lost two, Jack had nearly lost Becker, and he'd lost his companion. The girl who'd given up everything to travel space and time with him. The girl who'd made an impact in his life, and made him care again. He'd lost her and it was his fault. No one else but him.

He glared down at the console of the TARDIS. Almost as if blaming her for what happened, but deep down inside he knew it was him. He brought destruction wherever he went. He knew that. In his wake, nothing but pain for those around him. Even his home world suffered by his hand. Billions gone in the blink of an eye and he could do it again if it meant saving those he cared for.

He didn't even look up when Martha came up to him with a plate and food. He knew she was there thanks to his senses. They were sharper than they'd been when he'd arrived, he supposed he was adjusting to this planet whether he wanted to or not. "I'm nine hundred years old and you're fretting over my skipping lunch." He turned to her with a fait look of amusement, though it was half hearted at best. He still tried for her sake. "And what of you?" He took the plate, eyeing the banana and then looking at her.

"Should eat something Martha Jones." He picked up the banana and gave her an amused sort of look. "Bananas are good you know." He offered it to her, picking up a piece of the sandwich to appease her if she attempted to argue his lack of eating.