A/N: Yikes, first Who fic... Tell me how I did?

Just One More Trip

Martha rarely has any reason to go into this room. The Doctor stopped bringing her to the past after the incident with the weeping angels. Privately she can't help but be a bit miffed about that. She wanted to ask if going back in time was that bad for all of his companions or if that was specific to just her. But considering the fact that conversation around the one before her had a large 'Do not disturb' sign on it... it was just better for the both of them if Martha didn't ask.

So she looked around the room, her hands lightly feeling each fabric from each period outfit. Some went from extremely extravagant, like the beautiful red and black ball gown hiding in one corner, to simply worn, like the zoot suit buried underneath it. There wasn't any organization to it either; wool was paired with silk, neon plaid pants were hung with blue floral dresses and so on. Martha's eyes landed on a long striped scarf, soft as ever, and an odd blazer with a piece of celery stuck to it.

But what gave her pause was the maid's outfit.

She had wanted to burn it, after they left. She wanted no memories of her time spent there. She remembered setting it aside to take care of it later, but the next adventure came and when she had come back to her room in the Tardis, the outfit was already out of sight.

Martha unhooked the outfit, laid it down on the ground and sat right next to it. She felt at the fabric, the frayed edges of the dress, the burned bits of it, the tears and cuts and dirt and dust and soon it was like she was being taken back there.

Back taking care of the Doctor, back having to bury herself into work again, back being second to everything in the Doctor's life, back to watching him throw away everything for...

Martha huffed out a laugh, because of course it would be a blonde. Laying her head in her hands she wondered if his previous companion was blonde as well. It was hard visualize what she'd look like, but she did remember the sketch in that book. That impossible book. She did have a nice smile though. Martha allowed herself a moment of just disliking Rose. For being important enough to sneak through all of that to still have the Doctor think about her. A moment of outright hating the Doctor, for turning her into a miserable prat about the entire thing.

And a long moment of self loathing, because what kind of self respecting woman would even let themselves fall into this role?

Martha stopped that line of thinking, before she could rationally think things out, or justify any of this, took a shaky breath and stood up. She headed out the room and started looking for the Doctor. Just one more trip, she told herself. Because maybe the Doctor did need a companion, but it really couldn't be her anymore. It was starting to be a little too much for her. She found him tinkering with the controls, muttering to himself. And when he noticed her arrival, Martha couldn't help smiling at his gleeful wide grin when he asked where to next.

"Somewhere sunny," she replied. Home, she thought.

And as started listing the various possibilities with such optimism, thoughts of this being the last trip slipped off to the back of her mind.