Written for: NancyBrown for Trick or Treat Exchange.
“This is all your fault, you know,” Mickey declared as he flounced (there really was no other word for it) into one of the chairs ringing the console.
The Doctor looked up, sputtering. “How exactly is this my fault?” Brown hair flopped into his eyes and the hum of the sonic in his hands died down to an embarrassed whinge, then to nothing.
Amy, on the other side of the console, was watching the whole scene with far more amusement than was strictly warranted. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps because if you hadn’t distracted her, she might not have tripped over this…whatever it is you’re working on to begin with?”
“Yeah, exactly,” Mickey agreed.
“Oh, lay off, the both of you.” Martha scolded. She tried to smack her husband in the arm, but her insubstantial hand passed right through him. “You think I care half so much about how this happened as fixing it?”
The Doctor shot her a grateful look and straightened his bow tie indignantly. “Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to fixing it.” True to his word, the Doctor promptly went back to fiddling with the device that had caused the trouble in the first place.
“I think I’ve got every right to be angry with the bloke that got my wife killed,” Mickey protested.
“Not when said wife is standing right beside you, you big lug,” Martha retorted. She folded her arms and glared at him, more in exasperation than actual anger. “Although, if you keep insisting otherwise, I suppose that lets me off the hook then, doesn’t it? With the whole ‘til death do us part’ bit, yeah?”
The implied threat worked. Mickey lapsed into a sullen silence.
“Sorry, he’s just worried.” Martha smiled ruefully at the Doctor and Amy. “And as far as that goes, he’s not the only one.” She looked down again at her transparent form. “This is more than a bit disconcerting.”
“Perfectly understandable,” the Doctor tossed over his shoulder. “But as it happens, you’re very much not dead. Just a bit out of phase at the moment. I’ve just got to find the appropriate control circuit and reverse the polarity and—aha!”
“Is that a good ‘aha’ or a bad ‘aha’?” Amy asked.
The Doctor popped up again, this time grinning, which was hopefully a good sign. “We’ll know soon enough! Martha, if you wouldn’t mind standing just there…” He indicated a spot directly in front of the device.
Martha did as directed. “You’re sure this’ll work?” she asked him dubiously.
“Have I ever let you down?” the Doctor quipped, then immediately grimaced as if in pain. “No, don’t answer that. The real question is…” he stood and looked Martha straight in her translucent-at-the-moment eyes. “Do you trust me, Martha Jones?” His voice was probably as serious as Amy’d ever heard it.
Martha’s mouth twisted into something resembling but not quite a smile. “Always,” she answered softly.
That little boy grin spread over the Doctor’s face again, making him look for a moment like a truly young man, not an old man trapped in a young man’s body. “In that case…” He bounced back to the device and hit a button.
A bright beam of light shot out from the device, nearly identical to the one that had rendered Martha insubstantial to begin with. For a moment, all of the people in the control room had to shield their eyes from the brightness. When they could see, Martha was still standing there, but she looked solid again.
“Oh, thank God,” Mickey exclaimed, leaping up from his seat and throwing his arms around her. Martha hugged him back just as tightly.
“There, you see? I told you she wasn’t dead,” the Doctor announced triumphantly. His expression gave away his own relief, though.
Martha pulled away from Mickey and turned to hug the Doctor in turn. “Thank you,” she murmured into his neck.
The Doctor turned a nice bright shade of red. “Yes, well…all things considered, it was rather the least I could do.”
“Will that device work to restore all the other ‘ghosts’ we saw in the house?” she asked.
“It should do,” he agreed. “I’ve deadlocked the switch so it can’t be set back the other way accidentally.” Going to the contraption, the Doctor picked it up and handed it to her carefully. His eyes picked up a bit of their usual twinkle. “Do be a bit more careful in the future, though? If you decide to do any more ghost hunting.”
Martha rolled her eyes at him. “Only if you promise to be more careful in the future too—and the past.” She glanced over at Amy. “Look after him, yeah? Don’t let him get into more trouble than he can safely get out of.”
“Always do,” Amy promised with an answering grin.