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Chance Encounter Fandom: Doctor Who
The first time, Martha puts it down to coincidence. A pretty wild and extreme coincidence but, then again, she's discovered those are the kind of coincidences that seems to crop up a lot, once you've done a certain amount of traveling in time, space and dimensions. "Jack?" she says, skidding to a halt in front of him. "Martha," he replies, smiling expansively. Which is really the only way Jack ever smiles. It looks a little hollow to Martha. "Jack," Mickey says, in a completely different tone of voice. "Mickey," Jack says, the million-watt smile dimming just a fraction. "So," Martha says. "So," Jack says. He grins some more. "How are you guys?" Mickey gestures with his sonic blaster. "We're busy." "I can see that," Jack says, squinting at the horizon. "Are those Dranazi attack drones?" "Rogue ones," Martha tells him. "Long story." "Looks like they're coming this way," Jack notes. "Yep," Mickey agrees. "Pretty fast." "Yep." Jack waves a hand at them. "So you two are…?" "Married," Mickey says. He points at Martha with his free hand: "To each other." "And a bit tied up right now," Martha adds. "Catch you round?" "Sure," Jack says. "You kids go and have your wacky fun." "What was that about?" Mickey mutters as they start running again. Martha shakes her head. "I have no idea." *** The next time, it's definitely not a coincidence. "Jack?" Martha says, lowering her cocktail glass. "Martha," Jack says. He's wearing his military coat, even though it's baking hot. "Nice bikini." "Thanks." "On vacation?" "Honeymoon," Martha corrects him. "We had to put it off a couple of times." "So Mickey's…?" "In the pool." "Right." He sits down on the sun lounger next to Martha. "I'm putting the team back together," he says suddenly. He flashes that brilliant smile at her again, and this time she's sure it looks different: thinner, haunted. "That's what they say in the movies, isn't it?" Martha looks at him. "Jack, I --" He interrupts before it gets awkward. "Not interested, huh." "Things change," Martha says, as gently as she can. "People move on." "Not me, though," he says. He's still smiling, but it's painful to look at. Then, abruptly, the smile vanishes and he looks down. He's got his fingers laced together, like a cage of flesh. "I did something." "We've all done something." "Not like this," Jack says, voice low. A sudden scream, high-pitched and childish, interrupts him. They both look up, but it's just a young boy playing in the shallow end, squealing with delight as his father splashes him. "Still," Jack says, "life goes on, right?" and the smile's back, like armor. "Right," Martha says softly. He leans forward and kisses her lightly on the forehead.
It's so restrained, un-Jack-like, that for a second she wonders if it's
really him. "Be happy," he says, "both of you. And if you
have kids… don't name them for me."
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