"You don’t understand," she says, "I have to do this. My mother was right, Doctor. You’re dangerous, and if I stay with you, I’ll die."
She looks remarkably like herself, standing next to the armed guard of Veruka North, one of the most prominent and tyrannical military planets in the universe. He thought she might’ve suddenly sprouted horns, or developed a maniacal laugh, something, anything to make her look less like Martha and more like a woman who has betrayed him.
The Doctor stands a short distance away, his arms and legs bound in shackles, held standing by two more guards. They’re robots, or something like robots. Rather like Cybermen on steroids, a frightening enough prospect when one is flying near their planet, let alone at their mercy.
"You stay with them, they’ll kill you," he barks back, "You'll never get home, Martha you can’t---"
"But I can, Doctor," she says, and her voice goes cold. She steps ahead of the guards, and he's reminded of the Carrionnite, pointing her finger at him in an accusing and knowing way.
"They're going to make me a doctor, a proper doctor in the future," she straightens, looking amazingly proud of her decision, "That's something you or even my own time couldn't give me."
He can't breathe. His friend, his only friend in the whole universe, and she's called the monsters on him. Oh, they were in bad straights, the Doctor might've even called them terrible straights, but together they would've gotten away. They always got away…
"Your friend hasssss made a wise choisssssse," a slimy, slithering blue-green figure moves past him. The Guardian, they call him, and he's in charge of this whole establishment. Or, as he would call it, 'essssssstablissssssshment'. He stands next to Martha, and she doesn't cringe. He's her ally now, and the thought of that doesn't…it doesn't make sense.
He's had a deep hatred for the Doctor basically since the two of them landed on this rock, and now, finally, he has a reason to trap him.
"What did you do to her? Martha would never---"
"Do what I need to save my own neck?" she barked, "Oh, please, Doctor. You would've ditched me the moment you figured out a way back to Rose, and I don't do well playing rebound. You never saw me, you never cared about me!"
There's no anger, just shock. Complete and utter shock. She has to be lying. This has to…but she wouldn't bring up Rose so coldly…would she? It's…he can't process it, and he's frightened, and without a way out, and his only friend in the entire universe is…
"Take him away," the Guardian barks, "He isssssss due for excecution in thirty minutesssssss."
The Guardian turns and slithers away, two guards flanking him. Martha stares at the Doctor, her eyes meeting his with a defiance he didn't think she had in her. A defiance towards him, an almost-hatred he can't, even now, muster up for her.
And she still looks like Martha. She still has the same face, the same hair, the same ugly leather jacket, and he still feels a stab of fear for her standing between those two guards, like he has to save her.
"Wait," she says to the guards, holding up her hand. She takes two long strides over to the Doctor and grabs his head.
"Because you wouldn't do it."
And she kisses him. Not a simple or even a particularly pleasant act, but a heavy, deep kiss. He's so stunned, his mouth opens, and she immediately sweeps the inside of it with her tongue. He's revolted, and she's rough, and the guards are holding him in place.
He can even hear the Guardian giggle behind him. This final act of humiliation is so bloody wonderful to him.
She bites down on his lip, and he struggles, but she doesn't let go. It's then that he feels it, something metal moving from her tongue to his. Small and round, and she's pressing it into the side of his mouth.
A key? She's passing him a key. Oh, God, she hasn't betrayed him, she's made her own plan. He's thrilled and shocked and for just an instant, just the briefest of instances, he kisses her back.
She pulls back, sharply, and slaps him. It hurts.
"You weren't supposed to enjoy that." With that, she turns and storms away, following the Guardian. Stepping into the Lion's Den so he could escape.
There isn't a doubt in his mind that the key in his mouth is going to fit the locks. When he's thrown into the cell and he spits it out, toying with the small round object for a few moments, there's only a brief thought of panic before the key slides in, and the locks undo.
The lights go out in the cell, and the door automatically slides open. He doesn't know what she's done, but he knows he can trust her. He's always been able to trust her.
Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 841