Jessa, you're probably going to be screaming your head off and never speaking to me again by the end of this... I'm REALLY not sure about it...

Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to Our Lords and Masters, the Almighty Beeb, the prompt/challenge/thingie belongs to our dearly beloved Jessa L'Rynn, the quotes belong to... erm... whoever owns Stargate, and the fanfiction quote belongs to... ahm... Jessa, actually. In other words, pretty much none of this is mine.

SIAPNIAN: In honour of my most recent fervent obsession (Seriously, I'm thinking of trying to carve a replica of Teal'c's staff weapon thing out of the nearest large chunk of wood), all the required television quotes come from Stargate SG-1. ...You know, I think Luke and Teal'c would get along really well...

WARNING: I don't generally write Nine. I think I messed up a lot. I'm blaming him for NOT COMING OUT FROM BEHIND THE SOFA. -glares at him-

-BAD WOLF-

Martha, having been lost for a good three hours on an alien world, easily dismissed the fact that the TARDIS was not in the same spot it had been when she left as merely her imagination. The entire planet was practically a labyrinth, after all. A very dusty, purple labyrinth.

She stuck her key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door. It creaked in an ever-so-slightly alien manner, but she dismissed that too.

"Do you know how hard it is to...?" she asked, before realising that he wasn't actually there.

She rolled her eyes and dropped her jacket over the battered seat at the console, brushing purple dust off of herself before venturing into the corridors. She wasn't exactly paying attention to where she was going; the Doctor had muttered something about a telepathic field or whatever reading her thoughts and directing her to where she wanted to go.

Kitchen, she thought, very intensely, and had she been more telepathically advanced or just a little less stubborn, she would have felt a shiver run through the TARDIS's mind that felt suspiciously like a metaphysical version of someone rolling their eyes. All the same, the ship guided her to her destination and she started attempting to fix herself some form of lunch. She'd seen the food they had out there and really didn't want to risk it. She wasn't much of a cook, but then again she was working with something that came out of a box which had instructions printed on it in large, friendly letters, so she didn't think that much could go wrong.

She was somewhere in the middle of trying to put a spoon filled with the stuff in her mouth when someone walked in the room.

Someone tall and angular with big ears and a leather jacket, who was staring at her with the exact same expression she was using on him— namely, shocked disbelief.

"Okay," she said eventually.

"Who are you?" he asked a little harshly. "And, more importantly, what are you doing inside my ship?"

"Your ship?" she demanded. "This is the Doctor's ship—"

"Point being?" he interrupted, crossing his arms and glowering.

She blinked at him. "But—"

He paused, looked her up and down for a moment. "Ahh," he said eventually. "You travel with me, right?"

"If by 'you', you mean the Doctor, yeah," she said. Her wrist was in a distinctly odd position. She stuck the spoon back in the bowl and felt a bit better.

The Doctor nodded slowly. "The TARDIS's paradox-avoiding instincts must have shorted out again," he said. "Even for her age and what she's been through, she must be really decrepit if she's making mistakes like that."

Martha shook her head. "Nope," she said. "You— the other you— was very insistent about coming here. And now, I assume. He was really happy when we got here, anyway."

"Then the other me must be an idiot," he snapped, glancing away. "Both for landing here, and for dragging someone else down with him." He paused, looked at her again. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding truly apologetic. "I'm so sorry."

She blinked at him again. "Why?"

"Because life's short and you'll never get out of it alive. And when you're with me, it's even shorter and you come out deader."

"I know, but..." She trailed off, unsure of what to tack on the end of that sentence. She was about to question 'deader''s existence as a word, but she was interrupted.

"But what? You're invincible?"

"No," she said. "But you keep me safe. Or try." She smiled a little crookedly. "Doesn't help when I go running off and doing what I like, but you try."

He just blinked at her. "You trust me," he said; not an inquiry, not a request, but a statement, given in such a hopeless voice that it hurt. This Doctor (He'd explained regeneration to her fairly early on in their travels, saying something about never making that mistake again and promptly going on to other things before she could question what "that mistake" was) was either more broken than hers or not as good at hiding it.

"I do."

He glanced away. "You shouldn't."

She put the spoon in her mouth, sucked the concoction off, and pulled the utensil away again. "Why—" she started, mouth full, before she grimaced abruptly, muttering something that would get her executed on thirteen planets and spitting it back out again.

"What's wrong with it?" asked the Doctor, sounding ever-so-slightly insulted that she would be so revolted with something in his ship.

"It tastes like chicken," she said.

"So what's wrong with it?"

"It's macaroni and cheese."

He paused. "Ah," he said.

She put the bowl down.

"You should run now while you still can," said the Doctor. He took a recorder out of his pocket and stuck it in the bowl, scooping a little of the stuff out before putting the recorder in his mouth. He blinked and frowned at the bowl as if it was its fault that the stuff in the box had gone off somehow.

"And what if I don't want to?"

He put the instrument away. "You care about me?" he asked her.

She paused, trying to figure out a way to answer that question without actually giving anything away.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't care," she said.

"Then run before I kill you, because your death being my fault's gonna hurt a lot worse than you leaving me."

Martha paused, leaning back on the counter for a moment. "'Kay," she said. "Now it's my turn." She stepped forwards. "You're not some sort of monster. I know you don't think that, but you're not. You don't just go around murdering people, you give them a chance first."

"No."

"I saw you stand up to a god," she said, trying desperately to will him to understand. "You refused to kill. I saw you make that decision." She paused for effect. "And in that moment, I learned everything I needed to know to trust you."

He was silent.

"Now you go out there," she told him, "and you keep going until you find a girl named Rose. And you make bloody sure she comes with you, because I'm not having my you act like this."

He frowned a little. "Rose?" he asked, testing out the name.

Her cell phone rang. She jumped a little bit, glanced at it.

TARDIS calling, it informed her.

"Well," she said, "I've gotta go now. Get back to the other TARDIS and all that."

He nodded in acceptance.

"See you later," she said, and ran, opening the phone, but the Doctor had hung up already. She shook her head a bit and put it away, dashing outside and dodging the myriad and oddly-coloured aliens until she saw a familiar blue shape with another familiar blue shape standing next to it.

She skidded to a stop and the Doctor gathered her into a hug. She blinked a little, but didn't protest.

"Thank you," he whispered to her.

-BAD WOLF-

If you hear a very loud "squee", it's probably Kate.

Jessa, your bit about the novel explanation for a normal situation was HARD for Nine. Ten, it's easy, but Nine... -pause- I don't think I really got it... If you want me to try again, say so.

Oh, and by the way, my other sister Jasmine has got an account here now (yay!) and we're working on a collaborative crossover thingie which is over there because I've got forty-one stories now and she doesn't, and nobody's really heard of her anyway. Anyway, her username is Seacarda Fox Shadow and the crossover is the only fic on her page.

I think.

At any rate, you'll know it when you see it.

Hugs to all!

THE CHALLENGE (copied off Jessa's page):

This one is tricky. Pick a Doctor, any Doctor. Pick a companion who is not his usual companion in that incarnation. You may include others if you need them. Write a drabble or one-shot that includes the following elements:

-A Doctor's "catchphrase", but not the Doctor you are working with

-At least three quotes from movies, literature, or television (drabblers may use just one quote)

-At least one quote from a fan-fiction

-A novel explanation of a completely normal situation

-A ringing telephone and/or otherwise signalling communications device

-A musical instrument used for something other than its intended purpose

-Absolutely NO Daleks