The Eye of the Storm

The Doctor thinks he has managed to erase the memory of the Master's reign of terror. But people are starting to remember.

Notes: All thanks in the world goes to elliptic_eye. Her extensive critique of this story was invaluable. Also, thanks goes to paranoid_angel for the Britpick.

Art by 19sunshine (LJ | comment) and Laura (LJ | e-mail | comment)

PROLOGUE

There was no turning back now; it was all over. The door to the TARDIS closed with a soft click. Martha Jones had just done something that had seemed impossible just days ago -- she had said no to the Doctor. She stood on the pavement, not quite ready to go inside her mother's house and face her family. She listened to the gentle humming of the TARDIS and almost turned around to open the doors once again.

Almost.

But she didn't. This was her life now. Martha had to do things her own way -- without him. Any sense of reluctance she had previously felt in regards to leaving the Doctor began to fade. She knew what she had to do. Martha straightened her back, smiled, and walked towards her mother's house. After just a moment's pause, she opened the door and went in to greet her family.

Martha was greeted with smiles and hugs by her family. She looked around quickly; everything in her mother's house was exactly in the same place it had been the last time she'd visited, but there was certainly an odd feeling in the air. Her mother was still wearing the white jumper she'd worn when taken on board The Valiant, as if she had thrown on the first outfit she could find and hadn't bothered to change. The sleeves had started to unravel, as if the shirt had been left in a heap on the floor for a year. It was if everyone was thinking about what had just happened to them but no one wanted to talk about it. As she walked past, Tish said, "I thought you'd go back to him. There's just no way you wouldn't."

Martha decided to ignore this and proceeded into the kitchen, where her father was dutifully making tea. It was so strange to see both of her parents in the same house together--and they weren't arguing. "Can I help?" she asked.

"It's just tea," he said. "It's not exactly rocket science, is it?"

Martha laughed and pulled the coffee mugs out of the cupboard. "Remember, Mum likes her tea straight. And Tish likes it with milk and sugar." She spun around and opened the fridge to take the milk back out. "And do you remember how I like it, Dad?"

"Milk, no sugar." He smiled at her dutifully. "I don't know how you remember everything about all of us."

Martha shrugged and placed the milk on the counter, next to her mother's sugar bowl, which was still in the same place and still in pristine condition. Something about the normalcy of her mother's house comforted her. She watched her father standing there, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world. But he had to be hurting, didn't he? She wasn't sure if there was a right time to bring something like this up, but she decided to go for it. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay," her father said, pouring out the tea and then handing the mugs to Martha. "This is for you and your sister. Go on, that tea's not getting any warmer."

She handed one of the mugs to Tish, and her father followed her shortly. He placed a quick, almost perfunctory kiss on her mother's head before handing one of his mugs to her. Martha had known that her parents had become closer over the year, but this was strange to her. It would certainly take some getting used to. Tish, however, did not seem to be quite as surprised. Of course, Martha thought. Tish had spent a whole year with them; she'd be used to this by now.

The rest of the evening passed by pleasantly. Her father challenged the rest of the family to a game of Scrabble. After losing miserably to him, Martha excused herself. With a start, she realized she had work tomorrow. It seemed so strange to go back to her usual routine. In this timeline, she had been gone only a week, not very long at all. But in the Doctor's timeline she had been gone for over a year. Her parents had been gone for a year as well, but for them it would seem as if they had never left.

Before she went upstairs, her mother said, "Martha, what are you planning on doing about your flat? It went up in that explosion, didn't it?" Her voice was hard, but it almost seemed full of acceptance. It meant a lot that her mother did not seem to blame the Doctor for what had happened to the flat.

"I don't know. I thought I'd look around for some stuff close to home. Don't want to go too far."

Her mother nodded and then said, "Martha, you're free to--"

"Mum, it's okay," Martha said gently. "I want to stay close to you. I really do." She kissed both of her parents good night, hugged Tish, and then went upstairs towards her old bedroom, still decorated the way it had been when she'd left home.

She wondered who her new adviser would be. Martha hadn't even processed the fact that she would be going back to the hospital no longer under the tutelage of Mr. Stoker. And her exams weren't too far away. As she changed, she realized she had a lot to do. The Doctor had only reversed time to a certain extent. Her flat was still demolished, so she'd have to find a new place to live. She made a face, wondering if the Doctor had any idea how much of a pain that would be.

Before bed, she checked her e-mail on a whim. A week of not checking it had ensured that her inbox was full. Only a week, she thought with a start. Martha had been away for over a year, and yet her e-mail only showed her new e-mails for the past week. She had seventeen new e-mails, most of which were junk. She frowned at an e-mail from uni, reminding everyone to vote for Saxon. She opened it and smiled at the irony: "Vote Saxon For a Brighter Future". Yeah, right.

The most recent e-mail caught her attention. The sender was marked "Capt. Jack Harkness." Surprised, she clicked on the link and watched the e-mail pop up. How he had found her e-mail address was a mystery, although she supposed at a place like Torchwood it wouldn't be too difficult to find out. She clicked on it and read the message:

"When you pass your exams, I'd love you to join us at Torchwood."

That was all it said. She replied quickly. "How much money are you offering? ;)"

Martha leaned back and thought about it. It didn't take her long to come to a conclusion; she would love to see Jack again. So leaving the Doctor wasn't a complete bust. At least she'd still be able to work with aliens and do something exciting with her life without lingering on the Doctor and his feelings about her.

She closed the browser and opened her medical textbooks again. The feeling of familiarity was reassuring to her, yet the silence coming from downstairs was incredibly odd. Her family had always been loud and talkative, always discussing something. Tonight was still.

As she continued to read, her mind began to drift, thinking about the Doctor and his crestfallen expression when she chose to leave him. Yes, she was making the right choice to leave the Doctor. This was what she wanted. This was what she understood. Martha went through several pages, reminding herself of what each bone in the body was called, then pulled out an old case study to practice diagnosing. This is what she was meant to be doing. She forced to erase any sense of doubt out of her mind and continued to read.

She woke up with a start to her face stuck to her medical textbook.

There was an urgent knocking on the door and then her mother's voice: "Sweetie, time to get up. You've got work."

With a start, Martha bolted straight upright and changed her clothes. She must have been exhausted, falling asleep over her textbook like that. Well, the past week or so had been exhausting. Without even stopping for a decent breakfast, she darted out the door, opting to buy coffee in the hospital canteen instead.

Her mother's house was further away from the hospital than her flat had been, and she had to take a bus. When Martha got to her stop, she impatiently showed the bus driver her ticket and then hopped off in front of the Houses of Parliament. Martha froze, looking up at the brick building. This is where it had started. She watched a group of tourists walk by, looking unconcerned. The Doctor had really done his job -- no one seemed to remember what had happened there. She vaguely heard "Le president de les Etats-Unis..." but that was it. She wondered if they were talking about how he had been murdered. Her French was failing her. Oh, well.

She continued on her walk and reached the hospital quickly. The smells, the pictures on the wall, reminded her of a much less complicated time. She hadn't known the Doctor then, but at least life had been easier. She walked towards the locker room, everything looking somehow exactly the way it should be. If you didn't know better, you'd never know that this hospital had been taken to the moon.

As soon as she found the locker room, Martha found her locker and hung up her jacket. Aida Lewis from oncology opened her own locker next to her and pulled out a newspaper. "Wow, Martha. You've missed a lot. The president of the United States and Saxon murdered. A bit mad, isn't it? Where have you been? So much has happened, Martha. After Stoker died, they got a new bloke. His name's Ericson. Not as tyrannical as Stoker, but still a perfectionist. Oh, and it took them awhile, but they got the MRI machines back in working order after those aliens came." She didn't seem at all concerned about what had happened; rather, she sounded cheerful.

Martha listened to Aida talk in amusement. Her friend was going on about events she only knew too well.

Martha followed Aida into the conference room, where Dr. Ericson was waiting for them. He lectured them for awhile on the stomach, and then they were set loose to work on diagnosing a patient who complained of stomach trouble. The rest of the day passed like that -- lectures, then diagnosis practice. She was really out of practice. The other students were diagnosing faster and with more confidence than she was. Martha was exhausted by the end of the day. Aida had been right; Dr. Ericson was nowhere near as demanding as Dr. Stoker had been, but still expected a lot out of his medical students.

As happy as Martha was to fall back into her routine, she was anxious to return home and see how her family was doing. She'd refreshed her memory on Post-Traumatic Disorder during her break, just to see if any of her family was in danger any time soon. Then she remembered that it could happen at any time. She didn't want to be away from them for a long time in case one of them should start experiencing symptoms.

The bus was ten minutes late and it put Martha in a bad mood. The night air was cold and by the time she got on the bus she was shivering violently. Much to her dismay, someone decided to sit next to her. She moved her large bag out of the way and stared out the window at the passing scenery.

But after five minutes had passed, the person spoke, making Martha jump. "Thank you."

She frowned and looked behind her, wondering if the person was talking to her or someone else. Leave it up to her to find a seat next to a complete nutter. When she made eye contact with her seatmate, however, she saw that the person was adamantly looking at her. "For what?" she asked.

The woman frowned, looking confused. "You know, I don't know. I'm losing my mind, I think. Maybe it was because you moved your bag?"

Martha smiled encouragingly. What a sweet older woman, thanking her for something that had she had done five minutes ago. "Yeah, maybe."

"You really have to ignore everything I say. My son thinks I'm getting quite addled in my old age. I'm absolutely positive strange things happened over the past year, but my son tells me there was nothing of the sort. Oh, I should stop talking. You probably think I've lost my mind."

"Like what kind of strange things?" Martha asked, mouth suddenly dry.

"You look really familiar. Like you're famous or something. You're not a model, are you?"

"No," Martha said, forcing herself to laugh.

"Well, you could be. But anyway. Enough of my rambling. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. Well, I better go. This is my stop."

Martha hopped off, realizing that in actuality she'd missed her stop. She had to call her mother and ask to get picked up. What an unnerving conversation. There was no way the woman could have remembered, was there?

She was still going through the conversation in her mind when her mother pulled up and playfully scolded her for not paying attention. Martha sat in the passenger's seat and stared off into space. Was it possible? And if this woman remembered, who else did? Her first instinct was to call the Doctor, but she was determined not to rely on his assistance. She had to give him, and herself, time.

Instead, she waited until she got home, dropped off her bags and made light conversation with her family. Martha could barely wait until she had some time to herself. After dinner, she excused herself and wandered upstairs to the guest bedroom. She booted up the computer and checked her e-mail. Jack had replied.

As much money as you want. ;) Seriously. We're desperate for a few good doctors, (not Doctors) and I'll be willing to pay you quite a bit if you're willing to come onboard. When will you finish your exsams?
--Jack

The typo made her laugh. It seemed so typical of Jack, to not pay attention to what he was writing. She began to type back:

I will finish in early October, won't get my results until December. Hope you can wait that long! Hey. I have a question for you. What are the chances that the Doctor made a mistake when he erased all of last year? You know, The Year of Hell and all that. I sat next to someone on the bus today who seemed to remember. It was the weirdest thing. She only remembered some of what had happened, not all of it. Do you know of anyone who remembers what happened? Should we call the Doctor?
--Martha

She hit Send and shut down the computer. After that, she attempted to focus on studying, but it was to no avail. Martha was too curious to focus. She had to fight the urge to call the Doctor again, who would probably have some kind of answer. She was probably making something out of nothing, anyway.

Go to chapter one