So...this is it.
Not thinking about writing an epilogue, as there doesn't seem to be anything that needs to be written.
Final Chapter...read on about the 'Funeral'
Hope you enjoyed it all.
I have loved typing this up and reading all your reviews, I wanna send out BIG hugs!
Tell me if there should be a sequal, I'm not sure but I'm not thinking of it.
Suggestions are always welcome!
Read on, cause this is ur last chance!
CHAPTER 10: ANGEL IN THE DARKNESS
Darkness that seemed to stretch on for an eternity.
There was no feeling to it, but there never seemed to be enough room.
It was stuffy and cold and dark.
A small shiver of fear caressed the Doctor's spine slyly.
The prospect of death being nothing more than this endless darkness, terrified him.
Laying amongst the eternal shadows for the rest of time; his mind locked away, nestled deeply in the darkness with no hope of light; was not what the Doctor had imagined death to be.
He thought that there would be peace, where an ancient Time Lord who'd suffered for near on a thousand years could relax, could rest, never to worry about anything again.
This place, whatever it was, was not peaceful.
One thing was for certain though.
After actually completing the process of dying, he was sure that there was not meant to be any pain.
Over the time he'd spent contemplating death and what it was, a dull ache had begun to grow, covering his entire body; like he'd been physically beaten.
Then, shortly after recognizing the pain, came the noise.
So soft at first, so very, very faint; like it had to travel a thousand miles for him to hear it.
He couldn't make out what it was, but slowly, it got louder and closer and he could pick it up.
Someone was humming a most angelic tune, soft and calm and peaceful.
In his mind, he followed, unsure why but he felt a deep need to get to the source of the melody, so he could listen to it, so he could allow the feeling of ethereal calm to engulf his entire being.
Amidst the humming, soft words were murmured.
It reminded him or a young girl, too shy to sing to people despite harbouring a mystical voice.
Finally, it occurred to him, like an epiphany trigged by the singing.
He was still alive.
Physical feeling and awareness was trickling back into his mind and the darkness was retreating
The singing however, suddenly stopped.
He was only just conscious enough to recognize the heat and softness of a human hand on his forehead.
A softness that he had only once felt before, that only one person possessed.
Miss Martha Jones.
His dual hearts swelled with relief and happiness and his mind pressed against the slowly advancing wall of consciousness.
So, after all this, his brilliant plan had worked.
Better than he expected too!
He was still among the living and he was returning to the waking world.
Not only was he still alive, from the familiar feeling of the lean frame; he had not regenerated.
Better and better.
Yet, as it always was with the Doctor, his happiness had its limits.
The good feelings always left in a hurry.
That soft, warm hand of Martha Jones, the sensation of being gently soothed abruptly abandoned him.
Martha was gone.
His mind, sensing her going, commanded him to speak, commanded his body to writhe slightly.
Just so her attention would return and her hand would slide back onto his forehead.
But it was gone and his body resisted.
Physical awareness had peaked, returning to normal levels after an eternity.
The dull ache he had felt earlier was present, spanning every limb; legs, arms, torso, and head.
Control edged its way back into his mind and before too long, he was completely conscious.
From what he could gather of his current status, he was on his back, flat out in a soft bed, with the covers pulled up over him and his head rested on a multitude of downy pillows.
With extra caution, the Doctor cracked open an eyes, but slammed it shut at the sudden harsh light.
After the initial shock, he tried again, squinting as he opened his eyes to observe the room around him.
A light was placed directly above the bed; briefly causing the Doctor to wonder if the bed was in an optimum place for rest with such a bright bulb over head.
But his focus switched to the entire room, taking in his surroundings.
It wasn't a particularly large or extravagant room, just a plain room with cream coloured walls, cream ceiling, a wardrobe, a dresser, a desk, a mirror, the large bed and a window.
It wasn't very personalized, therefore he came to the conclusion that he was not a permanent fixture here and neither was anyone else.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the white door, slightly ajar.
Careful not to turn his head, as he sensed that the stiffness was a masking for pain; he focused on the outside, further into the house.
A television was going, some movie; the Doctor mused as he heard gun fire.
There were also two people rather close, talking.
A female, with an older voice using a reprimanding tone with a slight hint of concern.
"...Passing your exams is a priority! But you haven't slept a wink, and I'll wager that you haven't even picked up a medical text book to glance at! How do you expect to become a doctor if you're tests are tomorrow and you're acting like this?"
Then, another female voice, younger with a stubborn tone.
"I'm not going tomorrow. I've got to look after the Doctor"
That was Martha.
So, the Doctor now had undeniable evidence that his plan had worked.
She was alive.
He couldn't help but let a small smile of self-satisfaction spread across his face.
He had every right to be smug and to bask in the glory of a job well done.
Yet, sudden footsteps caused his smile to slip, as they were approaching the room.
They were heavy steps, not Martha's as he could still hear her arguing with the other woman; who he'd figured to be Francine, her mother.
The door opened and the Doctor shrank back a little, gazing wide eyed at his new visitor.
It was Jack.
Captain Jack Harkness.
He held a cup of tea precariously in one hand as he gently shut the door behind him.
The Doctor watched as Jack set the cup down on the nightstand and then walked around the bed to the window on the other side of the room.
He caught sight of a darkened world outside, with a single yellow street light glowing dimly against the shadows before Jack drew the heavy curtains across, blocking it from view.
With a sniff and a heavy sigh, Jack turned toward the bed, shrugging off his navy greatcoat.
His eyes met the Doctor's and he froze, with one arm out of the coat.
For a moment, they stared at each other, Jack must have been unsure if he was seeing reality or not.
"Doctor?" he said gently, leaning forward a little.
"...Ja-ck" the Doctor replied, wincing at the way his voice seemed to scrape against the insides of his throat, painfully so.
A smile broke onto Jack's face and the greatcoat finally came off.
He actually laughed.
"You're awake...finally awake and aware. You were starting to worry me for a while there" Jack chuckled as he draped the coat across the end of the bed and returned to the vacant seat by his bed side.
By the time he sat down, his ice blue eyes were glimmering.
"...H...How...lo-ng?" The Doctor managed.
"Hang on, I'll get you some water. You're throat must be killing you" Jack said, getting up not ten seconds after sitting down and walked out the door.
This gave the Doctor another chance to monitor the other events in the house.
The movie was still going, but there was a distinct clinking and clattering of plate; probably a sign that he had come to sometime after dinner.
Martha and Francine must have moved further away, as their voices were faint now.
He sank back a little further into the bed, embracing the softness and the warmth.
Yet he kept absolutely still, sensing that any movement would be pure agony.
Jack suddenly returned, walking into the room quickly and closing the door behind him.
"Here we are, nice glass of cold water for the Time Lord...okay. Don't you move. I'll help you." Jack said, approaching the bed.
A witty retort pushed at the Doctor's mind and he was tempted to speak the trite remark aloud, but he sensed that Jack should not be berated for trying to help, that and the painful effort it took to speak jumped to the forefront of his mind. Jack gently sod his hand behind his head and raised him up just slightly.
Pain bit angrily at the nerves that had been disturbed, but the Doctor paid no mind to them.
The edge of the cool glass was rested gently on his lip and the cold water washed into his mouth and trickled down his aching throat.
It felt good.
Much better than the Doctor had been expecting.
But, he made the mistake of trying to take a breath while drinking, just to overcome a wave of pain.
His lungs rebelled as he inhaled a bit of the liquid, contracting.
The second he choked on the water, Jack took the glass away.
Just as he coughed.
Which again, was a big mistake.
Because then came the pain.
It exploded from his right side, agonizingly white hot pain that seemed to radiate, causing every nerve to scream.
As was the natural reaction other than screaming, the Doctor tried to move away from the pain.
Which was another mistake.
His right arm flared in consciousness, the pain rivalling that of his right side.
Other parts of his body began to bring forth their suffering in all sorts of manners, but by far the worst was his side and arm.
The Doctor couldn't remember if he was screaming or not, all he remember was the pain, a gentle shushing noise from Jack who sounded completely calm, and then the now comforting darkness swallowed his mind, detaching himself from his physical body and the pain.
Returning to consciousness wasn't as hard as it was the first time. Nor was it as slow.
It was peaceful; the Doctor felt like waking from a deep sleep.
The singing was back, that same harmonious melody that could only ever have been sung by angels.
Not the weeping, psychopathic kind. Not the Hallmark, Disney kind either.
The most terrifyingly beautiful beings in the universe.
The Doctor had been blessed by Rassilion to have even seen one once.
It had been during the Time War, he remembered it as clearly as if it were yesterday.
He'd been amongst the battle of Arcadia, death surrounding him.
Daleks screeching in their electronic voices, monotonous words in slightly varying tones.
Time Lords screaming as both death took them and a they charged head long into battle.
Above them, Dalek Ships and Time Lord ships with the odd Battle TARDIS collided in fiery bursts of fuel and metal.
Bombs, missiles and hunks of debris constantly rained down, killing thousands alone.
He looked up in despair, squinting through the thick black smoke that billowed upwards from a crater where a now unidentifiable ship burned.
There, among the chaos and bloodshed in the sky, glowed a golden light. Almost like a star, but humanoid in form.
It hung in the sky, it's robes that clothed it swirling and shimmering, constantly shifting in bright colours; too many in a second to identify one.
A feeling of sorrow and sadness radiated from it, touching the Doctor's hearts, mixing with the fear and the hatred.
Then, came the singing inside his head. Such beautiful melodies and soft words that changed all the fear and anger into a serene feeling of complete calm.
He no longer stood with the dead and the dying, he hung in the sky with the angel, lulled into a scene of peace.
He gazed in wonder at this mystic being surrounded by a glowing aura, wondering why it was singing to him, of all the Time Lords.
But then, as if it never was; it shimmered into none existence, the song and the emotions fading from him.
The Doctor was again standing with the dead and the dying, full of fear and hatred, but staring at the sky in disbelief
Observing the most beautiful creature the universe had to offer, in the midst of the Time War left him dazed and confused.
It made him wonder about how on Gallifrey he was going to survive the war now, when he'd seen something as distracting as that!
Suddenly, he was laying on his back, his body throbbing disconcertingly, listening to the singing, embracing the softness of the hand on his forehead.
He noticed that it would occasionally tousle his hair, almost absent-mindedly, before stroking his forehead in a most comforting manner.
The hand certainly belonged to that of Martha Jones; the voice he did not know.
And it interested him, very much so.
Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes without moving a muscle.
There, sat Martha.
Yes, the beautiful dark face of Martha Jones sat by him; gazing blankly out into the distance, her mind so far away.
Her lips were moving; that angelic song was indeed hers.
She only sang softly, barely above a whisper; singing only to him and no one else.
She sung for him.
In that voice.
A warm feeling of affection welled inside his hearts and he suppressed the urge to hold her.
It felt so good, to see her alive, her eyes open and glittering in the light, her face its usual light brown complexion, her body warm.
Not dull, not pale, not cold.
Martha's voice faded into silence, much to the disappointment of the Doctor.
He peered at her from under heavy eyelids, drinking in the sight of her living form, hoping that it would give him some strength to lift his arms and hug her to him.
But it didn't, nor did he find hidden reserves in his weak body and without the distraction of the song, the pain was growing again, the throbbing increasing and the dull ache growing into a slight burn.
"Don't stop" he whispered.
She didn't even jump, she looked down at him, totally calm.
Their eyes met, and she smiled warmly at him, and he managed to smile slightly up at her.
"You're supposed to be asleep" she chided.
The slight smile grew into a cheeky smirk.
"Your warbling woke me up" he said, much to Martha's amusement.
"But you said to me, don't stop." She chuckled.
He hummed slightly, and summoned a play thoughtful look to his face, before they fell silent.
Her fingers ran through his hair, and he lay struggling to stay awake.
Unintentionally, he gasped a little as his side pushed its way to the front of his mind, causing Martha to frown.
"Does it hurt again?" she asked worriedly.
A particularly strong wave of pain washed up on his mind, and he was limited to nodding slightly.
Over the annoying roar of blood rushing in his ears, he heard Martha's gentle voice, shushing him, soothing him.
Something pricked his arm, and he felt a warm liquid fill his body.
As it raced toward his brain, he felt as if he knew it, as if it had been in him before.
The warmth was indeed familiar, it was calming, not only that but it doused the strong pain, and left him mind clear and free, rather than fuzzy.
"Time Lord Medicine" Martha clarified.
A soft chuckle rose up inside the Doctor and he blinked owlishly.
"TARDIS help you with that, did she?" he asked.
Martha nodded rather guiltily, but smiling proudly.
She obviously felt like she'd done something good.
The Doctor readily admitted that she had.
If she'd given him morphine, if he'd survived the foreign medicine, he would have been dull minded and slow.
"...What happened? I was...awake earlier...wasn't I?" the Doctor asked, remembering Jack.
Martha looked to the window again.
"Almost three days ago now, on Jack's shift. Heard he gave you some water and you went and choked on it...Well Done" Martha said.
The Doctor's eyes widened as he recalled Francine talking about Martha's tests.
"Your exams...what about your exams?" he asked.
"I didn't go. I had to look after you. You pulled most of the stitches and were bleeding pretty bad after that ordeal. It took me and Jack forever to stop the bleeding. But don't worry about my exams, I called in and explained that...a family member was seriously injured and if I sat my exams, I wouldn't be on task." Martha said, pausing mid way though explaining.
The Doctor had a suspicion that she hadn't called him a 'family member', but something far more intimate.
A few examples flitted around his head.
Boyfriend, Fiancé, Husband, Lover, Concubine?
He wasn't too sure about the last two, in fact he as certain he could rule them out.
Suddenly, her hand was on his cheek, and she gazed sorrowfully at him.
"...By the way, I'm so sorry Doctor...I'm so sorry that it came down to you or him." She said.
There was only one event in recent memory that she could possibly be talking of.
"You know...what happened?" the Doctor said uncertainly.
"Yeah. Jack told me. He explained it all to me; the 'Year-That-Never-Was' as he calls it. How he nursed you back to health, how you kicked him out with some lame excuse that he wasn't ready. Then all about his travels, the people he met. The Resistance Fighters. Then he complained about finding you, said it was like finding a needle in a haystack...and...how you came to rescue me...but it all went horribly wrong. I died and you flipped out. And then Jack said you and the Master disappeared, but only you came back. Then the paradox machine and all the drama there. In fact...he went on for hours" Martha said softly.
The memory of her cold, dead body in his arms flashed before the Doctor's mind suddenly, and he cringed, shuddering at the pain it stirred deep within him.
"Doctor?" she asked tentatively.
He looked up at her, forcing a small smile before shaking his head.
"Just...thinking...remembering...uh...what happened? I mean...what do you remember." The Doctor asked, brushing it off.
It earned him a look of disappointment from Martha, but she continued on, to answer his question.
"...I was kneeling there, it felt like I had just woken up or something like that. I couldn't see the Master anywhere, and all the guards and personnel were just standing around, just as confused as I was. Then Jack's charged in, screaming at me. I just remember that he was terrified, not to mention soaked in blood. Of course, at the time I had no idea what was going on, but I heard your name amidst Jack's rambling and I followed him. He took me to the TARDIS, she herself was pretty sick, but I was focused on you, laid out on the ramp...you looked dead...Doctor...my heart almost gave out when I saw you. You had a really, really faint heartbeat...your right heart if I recall correctly. And that's what I worked with. The TARDIS took us back to my Mum's house. Jack had gone and gotten my family out from the Valiant's holding cells, and we came back here. You've been in a coma for almost three weeks. And none of your wounds have healed...I was hoping that you'd shed some light on the subject." Martha explained, tears coming to her eyes as her own painful memories stung her.
If the Doctor would have moved his hand without the threat of pain, he would have taken her hand and squeezed it gently.
As it was, all he could do was smile sympathetically at her.
"You don't really need to worry about the inner workings of a Time Lord when in a comatose...but...the comatose is usual induced to repair mental damage, not the body. It's taken almost three weeks to rebuild my mind? Well...that just proves that I must be a genius!" The Doctor said brazenly.
Martha smiled slightly, watching him closely.
"Will you be alright? You won't...relapse or anything?" she asked unsteadily.
"Yup...unless you feed me aspirin." The Doctor said.
"Aspirin?" she murmured with a frown.
"Don't worry...just don't feed me aspirin. It'll kill me dead" he replied.
Silence fell, in which Martha's hand began to wander in his hair again.
For the first time since the first words he'd spoken to her, the Doctor felt exhausted.
His eyes were sore and his eyelids so very heavy; he struggled to keep them open.
"Martha?" he breathed.
"...Yes?" she asked gently.
He motioned with his head for her to come closer, and she did.
A faint scent of peaches seemed to surround her, just barely detectable until she leaned in close but even then it was only a tantalizing hint.
He leaned up slightly and gently pressed his lips to hers, as a form of thank you, before nestling back into the bed; letting his exhaustion consume his weak body and weary mind.
Slowly, his eyes slid closed and as he sunk into the deep folds of sleep; he gave a request.
"Martha...sing to me again...please" he whispered, so quietly that Martha could only have heard him if she was leaning as close to him as she was.
She giggled slightly, recognizing the kiss as an innocent thank you, before the low, soft voice began again.
The melody lulled him to sleep, smoothly with its dulcet tones that only an angel could sing.
He fell into a deep sleep, with a faint smile upon his lips, content with the universe, with Martha's fingers lost in his hair.
So, there you have it!
The Waking of the Eternal Nightmare...FINISHED.
I dunno whether to be happy or sad.
Cause it was fun!
Anyway...Review...thanks so much...
After this point, there's a list of ALL the people I wanna thank!
If I missed ya, then I love ya all the more cause I'm sorry.
forestwife :- Many big hugs to you! Glad we got to talking!
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