Doctor Who_ Peacemaker - James Swallow [57]
‘Don’t. Be scared,’ he managed.
Martha nodded weakly. ‘I trust you.’
With effort reddening his face, the Doctor’s finger tightened on the trigger and emerald energy flashed into being, enveloping the girl’s torso. Martha’s back arched and she gasped.
The youth watched, conflicted. Was he hurting her? Never! No matter what had happened, he couldn’t believe the Doctor would ever do something to injure his companion. You’d have to be a fool not to 139
see that she cared a great deal for him. The bond they shared was more than just travelling friends, it was clear as day even to someone with a plain and simple upbringing like Nathan.
The green glow ebbed and flowed across her wound and, to his wonderment, Nathan saw the damaged skin draw tight, colour returning to it. Martha pulled at the makeshift bandage on her belly and it came away leaving no sign of injury. The beam fluttered across her jacket, miraculously knitting back the burn hole in the leather. In moments, it was as if Martha Jones had never been shot.
The beam snapped off and she sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.
‘Oh. I’m. . . OK,’ she said aloud, hardly able to believe her own words.
‘It’s done,’ growled the Doctor, and he pushed back, stalking away to the other side of the chamber.
Nathan offered Martha his hand, but she waved him away, getting to her feet on her own. ‘Doctor?’ she asked, a hundred different questions in the same utterance.
It seemed impossible. A heartbeat earlier, and there had been so much pain, a constant throbbing agony that Martha had never known. Her life had been trickling away, drop by drop. But then the Clade – the very same kind of weapon that had pushed her to the brink of dying –had healed her. The pain was gone, with only the fast-fading memory of it left behind. Martha probed gingerly at her side and found skin and muscle there, intact, undamaged. As if nothing had happened, all back to normal, reset.
Except for the Doctor.
She crossed towards him, ignoring Nathan’s warning hand on her shoulder. The Doctor was turned away from her, head down.
‘Go away.’ His voice was harsh, deep and throaty.
‘You can let it go now,’ she told him. ‘Doctor? I’m OK, you saved me. You can let the Clade go.’
‘Don’t. Tell. Me.’ Each word was like a bullet. ‘What to do!’ He broke into a shout and spun around, leading with the gun. The Clade weapon aimed to point at Martha and Nathan, the massive maw of the barrel yawning before them. The Doctor’s face creased in agony.
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‘I’m trying to resist, trying, trying. . . ’
Martha’s hand flew to her mouth in shock. She hesitated, unsure if she should reach for him or run from him.
Trying. . . . Failin’!’ From nowhere, a crude sneer etched itself across the Doctor’s lips. ‘He’s a feisty one, ain’t he?’ It might have been the Doctor’s voice, but the accent, the malevolence, they were all Alvin Godlove’s; it was the cruel will of the Clade forcing its way through his speech. ‘So much in here to play with. . . I do declare, this Doctor is so deep, so dark and dangerous. . . He’s gonna be the finest host I ever took!’
‘No,’ Martha shook her head defiantly. ‘You’re wrong! You can’t take him, he’s too strong for you! He’s the Doctor, he’s unbeatable!’
‘Oh, my poor mistaken little girl,’ came the hissing reply, ‘while I am sure he believed that idiocy with every fibre of his bein’, the truth is far different! Did the Time Lord think he could just fix you and then renege on his part of our deal?’ He spat into the dust. ‘My kind haven’t fought a thousand wars against a thousand foes without learnin’ somethin’ about bluffin’! Your Doctor belongs to us now, Missy Martha!’
‘No!’ She refused to believe it. ‘He can’t just give himself up, not without a fight, not just for. . . ’ For me. Guilt, hard and heavy, slammed into Martha. He’s done it to save me, she told herself. Sacrificed all