Ok, so I know I have 2 stories going on at the moment already but I have had this idea swimming round in my messed up head for ever now and today seems as good a time as any to release it. It's basically an A/U- what would have happened if Rose and her family were not trapped in Pete's world. As I said this is NOT 10/ Rose and VERY 10/Martha. However, I will try and avoid Rose bashing- just a touch of Rose… expressing dislike of. And I am not happy with the title; anyone got any ideas for an alternative one? Enough said. As always, please read and review and (hopefully) enjoy!

There were some days were Martha Jones really hated hospitals. And this was one of those days.

On the up side, and she did like to think on the up side, it was sunny. She'd had a good few hours sleep (in between the studying, having to put up with her ex flatmate Gemma watching scrubs and teasing Martha as she went on about the general inaccuracy of the whole show, and texting an ex boyfriend- Terry the twat- who she had decided to end things will an incredible total of three years ago) and she had even got herself a breakfast in some shape or form.

On the down side, which, despite her determined attempt at optimism, kept egging at the corners of her mind, she had been contending with her family on the phone all the way here, she had been knocked aside in the street by some big headed helmeted bloke and zapped by the locker. Then there was the ever-nearing family party, promising craploads of insults, fights, arguing and bitching.

"You stole my husband!"

"25 years of lies, Clive!"

"Tell 'em Leo… Martha…"

"I'm not being insulted…"

Martha squeezed her eyes shut and composed herself.

"Breathe," she whispered to herself. "Calm down. Everything will be fine."

"You alright babes?" Martha opened her eyes. Standing before her was Michelle Williamson, the tarty brunette, shocking lipstick smeared across her face, glowing under about a million layers of foundation. Martha had to clench her fists to keep herself from punching the girl.

"Bloody Hippocratic oath," she hissed. When you had a patient who thought that, despite the years of medical school strapped under Martha's belt in comparison to the nights out drinking, dancing and partying of the young patient, she was more successful than the young med student, and what's more didn't feel uncomfortable expressing the fact, it was all you could do to smile and walk away slowly.

"I said, you alright?" Martha smiled at the girl wanly.

"You going home Michelle?" she asked cheerily. She women shrugged.

"Sure. Shouldn't you be like, bringing someone back to life or something?" Martha sucked in a deep breath.

"Paperwork," she said, brandishing the folder at her.

"Oh. Whatever," said the girl who had never filled out a form in her life. "Hey, why aren't you in like a nurse's uniform?"

"Oi! Hello! Scuse me!" It was a patient, calling from her room. Martha Jones flashed her teeth at Michelle in a fashion that could be interpreted as either a smile or a snarl, and scooped up her charts, heading towards the patient's room.

The patient was a blonde girl with a smooth, fair completion and wholesome lips- she was a few years younger than Martha. Her brown roots were clinging to her scalp and her eyes were outlined with heavy make-up. Martha was reminded of Annalise (the selfish cow) and chided herself. This girl was probably nothing like Annalise. She was probably lovely. It was wrong of her to judge this poor girl- but it was hard. Wherever she turned there seemed to be women reminding her of the home-wrecking blonde girl that her Dad had picked up at some bar- the third since he had walked out on his wife when Martha was eleven. Martha's memory went back to the day Leo found that bra, the stupid bra stuffed down the back of the sofa. She concentrated her attention back on the patient.

"Um, hi," she giggled, in a blatant London accent. Martha raised her eyebrows. "I was just wondering… there's this guy… he's working in the eatery… he promised to make me a cup of tea and like that was nearly two hours ago and he still hasn't showed and I am just stressing out, y'know?" Martha looked at the girl incredulously.

"I do?"

"Course you do. And I was wondering if you could like go and find him for me." Martha was stunned into silence. Rose sat up a little in bed. "It's ok, he's called the Doctor. He's about six one, six two, amazing hair, big, dark intense eyes; he's only just started out."

"The Doctor," Martha replied. "A Doctor, working in the cafeteria. Right."

"I know, I know, it takes a bit of getting used to, calling this tall skinny bloke 'the Doctor' but it feels really natural like, as time goes by, yeah? Anyway, you don't look very busy right now and I just thought it wouldn't hurt if you could do me this one little favour and you'd be like my favourite doctor for life… apart from the Doctor as the one who works downstairs… look just do this for me right?"

"I'm sorry, I think you'd have to ask someone else," she said slowly. "I am swamped at the moment, I have a load of paperwork to do, discharges and all that shit, and…"

"Miss Jones!"

Doctor Jones, Martha imagined in her head. Doctor Jones, it would be one day. She spun round.

"Mr Stoker," she replied.

"I don't think our patients appreciate foul language Jones, we treat them with respect, they are much more important that your needs. I think that…" He flicked up the charts and scanned it quickly. "Rose here would appreciate an apology."

"Oh… I…" stammered Martha, blushing. Rose's eyes flickered from the senior consultant to the young med student.

"Actually… I don't want an apology Mr Stoker," she said. Stoker nodded approvingly and glowered at Martha.

"Be thankful Jones. Is there anything our trainee Doctor can do to help you Miss Tyler?"

"Well," she began. "There's this bloke…" Martha sighed and looked around the ward. Typical. All those dreams about becoming a doctor and saving all those lives and here she was, inching closer to being forced to make this girl a cuppa. She sighed. . She glanced up and saw Mr Stoker staring at her, a picture of sarcastic politeness.

"I'm so sorry am I boring you?" he asked mildly.

"Uh…"

"I didn't think so," replied her superior swiftly. "As Rose here wants somebody to fetch her tea, and I think that there is no harm in somebody as important as you stooping to the level of everyone else eh? So Miss Jones, you will fetch this young man with Miss Tyler's mug of tea."

"Sir I have loads on my plate… rounds in like half an hour and…"

"You better be fast then," he said. "Chop chop!" Martha refrained from rolling her eyes she might have done when she had just been sent out of French by that bitch of a teacher Mrs Depaul and walked slowly out the ward. She heard a tinkling laugh echo behind her. She snarled.

When Martha walked into the eatery, she saw the guy this Rose Tyler had described easily. He was tall, skinny, incredibly good looking, and was talking rapidly to an old man with a broken knee.

"Yeah I know exactly how you feel," he was saying loudly. "I did something like that to the old knee once, long, long time ago. Queen Mary the first… blimey she can throw a kick… if that's what you do to a kick- throw it I mean. Although that wasn't what broke the bone in the end. That was her husband Phil… we became great chums after that…." Then he seemed to notice Martha staring at him. He looked up, fixing her with intense brown eyes. He smiled cautiously. "Hello."

"H-hello," said Martha, a slight catch in her voice. She could feel blood rushing to her face. God, how embarrassing. "Are you-" She was about to say 'the Doctor' but it seemed too awkward. She stumbled for words. " Are you supposed to be getting Rose Tyler a cup of tea?" The skinny bloke slapped a hand to his head in frustration.

"Damn! Knew there was something… wasn't I just saying Ralph… that nagging feeling in the back of your mind, we just got chatting and-" He paused, looking at Martha, seemingly struck dumb for a second. He coughed. "And badaboom," he continued. "You've forgotten everything."

"She seemed pretty pissed off," admitted Martha. "She said she'd been waiting a while."

"She has," the man admitted. "Sorry, what was your name?"

"Martha Jones," she said self-consciously. "I'm a med student."

"Of course you are," the man replied easily. "So you met Rose then?"

"Yes," said Martha. "Yes, I have." The bloke moved forward nervously.

"You're different," he said. "You're different to her."

"I am?" she breathed. Stupid question. Of course she was different to the laid back blonde girl waiting for her cuppa.

"Yes," he said seriously. He stepped closer again and fingered the stethoscope laid on her collar. "You're a doctor."

"Nearly. Are you…called the Doctor?"

"Mmm," he said distractedly. He flicked up the medical instrument and slipped it into his ears. Martha was about to protest, it was unhygienic of course, but something stopped her. He slipped the circle of the stethoscope onto the soft cotton of her t-shirt and listened the steady thrum of her pulsing heart.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"I'm sorry," he said, fumbling all of a sudden. He pressed it back into her hands, rubbing that back of his neck awkwardly. "I just…. You've got a nice strong heart-beat Martha Jones."

"Thank you," she said shyly. "What about you?"

"Me? Perfect. Badaboom. Although-" He treated the woman in front of her to a cool, appraising glance. "You wanna check?" Martha shrugged, and pressed the stethoscope against his chest. She jumped slightly. Was that an echo? An echo? She stared up at the Doctor, fascinated.

"Two hearts?" she choked. He was silent. With shaking hands, she slid the stethoscope to the right. And there it was, strong and loud. "Oh my God."

"Custard cream?" She looked up. The Doctor was holding a plate of biscuits in front of his face, a manic grin on his face. She shook her head.

"No thanks," she managed. A slow smile spread across her face. "Two hearts."

"Two hearts," he confirmed.

"Why? Were you born that way? That is so cool!"

"Yep. A long, long time ago."

"Come on. You're not that old. You sound like my Granddad."

"How old do you reckon I am, Martha?"

"I dunno, thirty four? Thirty five?" He chuckled.

"Really?" He seemed to find it hilarious.

"What? How old are you then?"

"Older than you think, Martha Jones."

"Come on. That's not an answer. You can't be older than what I said. Have you had botox and stuff?"

"I have not."

"Is that something to do with your two hearts? Does having two hearts make your age slower? Hey, can I write an article about you? You could be in some kind of medical journal."

"I don't think so," he said apologetically.

The old fashioned clock on the wall chimed suddenly. Martha cussed under her breath. She was going to be late for rounds. She wound the stethoscope back round her neck and scooped up her folder from where she had left it on the table.

"Sorry," she said. "I have to go. I'm late for rounds."

"Wait! Will I see you again?"

"I don't know… I hope so…" she said, rushing from the room.

"Martha!" She paused in the doorway.

"Yeah."

"I like you Martha."

"Good to know, thanks, I really have to go…"

"Please!" He grabbed her wrist. "I mean I really, really like you."

"What do you mean you met me five minutes ago?" Martha looked down at the hand on her arm and saw something glinting on his fourth finger.

"Oh," she said flatly. "I have to go now. I'll see you later." And she fled.

FLASHBACK

His hearts pounding in his chest, the Doctor stood at the altar, in his fateful tux. But today, he would have welcomed danger, would have embraced a good old-fashioned alien invasion. Today was his wedding day. And he was scared.

He glanced back to see Jackie sitting on the front row. She bared his teeth at him and grinned. He smiled vaguely back, and she nodded.

"Any second now," she promised. The Doctor licked his dry lips. Oh God. After the battle of canary wharf, with Jackie, Pete, Mickey and Rose all alive and well, a red haired bride had materialized into his TARDIS. Rose had slaughtered her. It was all he could do to make peace between the two warring women, the baffled father and the protective mother. Once Donna was safe- really safe, he'd ensured that, Jackie had suggested he should propose to her daughter.

"After all, she deserves it," Jackie had said. And the Doctor, weakened by her persuasion (and a hard slap) had finally obliged her. Rose had said yes- he almost hoped she hadn't. Scratch that, he did hope.

Sarah-Jane was there in the congregation too, and Mickey too. Faithful Jo Grant was there too, smiling at the Doctor. Then everyone gasped as Rose walked through the doors, accompanied by Pete. The vicar's speech went all to fast, and it was soon time for him to muster the binding words…

"I…I do." And suddenly her lips were pressed against his and the church erupted into claps and Jo Grant was the first to run up and hug him. Best man the Brigadier hugged him too, not oblivious to the Doctor's regret.

"It'll get easier," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry," she said. "I have to go. I'm late for rounds."

"Wait! Will I see you again?"

"I don't know… I hope so…" she said, rushing from the room.

"Martha!" She paused in the doorway.

"Yeah."

"I like you Martha." His hearts were pounding- his hearts, how had she recognised his double heartbeat- from nerves. She brushed his comment away.

"Good to know, thanks, I really have to go…"

"Please!" He grabbed her wrist. "I mean I really, really like you." She smiled, bewildered.

"What do you mean you met me five minutes ago?"

He watched as her gaze flickered to his hand and saw the band tightened around his fourth finger. Her mouth opened in surprise, and her shoulders sagged. He shook his head. No. Not Martha Jones. She was going? They'd only just met… and he liked her. Damn the ring, the bloody wedding, it was untrue…

"Oh. I have to go now. I'll see you later." And she was gone.

"Martha!" But it was too late. Always too late.

IIIII

Martha was sat in the staff kitchen watching as her friend Julia made coffee for the two of them. She sighed, tapping her fingernails against the plastic of her phone.

"You alright?" Julia asked her. She shrugged.

"I guess."

"What is it?" she asked, pausing and looking at her curiously. "Was it Mr Stoker? He was a bit harsh I reckon."

"I can handle that," she said. "Something else."

"Party tonight?" Julia guessed again.

"No. Well yes, there is the party, but it's not that. Nothing important. Just me being silly."

"Terry the twat?"

"No."

"Martha!"

"Fine. There was this bloke; he was working downstairs in the eatery. We met today we talked a bit, that's why I was late for rounds. And I was thinking he was something quite special, and he was lovely to me and all that, then I noticed he was wearing a wedding ring."

"Oh," said Julia, pulling a face. "Been there."

"You have?"

"Sure. It sucks."

"I know. He was-" Martha jumped as her phone vibrated. She flicked it open and pressed it against her ear.

"Martha. We need to talk."

"Tish," she smiled. "You alright?"

"No. We need to figure something else or everything will go mental and Leo will have the worse birthday ever and he's meant to be celebrating, this is his last big birthday until he turns sixty."

"He didn't even ask for a party, he told me so."

"Yeah but Mum wanted him to have one and Dad wanted him to have one and-"

"Just leave it Tish," snapped Martha.

"What's up with you?"

"Nothing, nothing! Let's just figure out what to do about Annalise."

"I know. You're in love," said Tish immediately. "Who is he, Martha? How long has it been going on?"

"I'm not in love," said Martha. "I just thought… I made a mistake."

"You thought you liked someone and he turned out to be a douche."

"No. He's not a douche. He's… amazing."

"But he doesn't notice you?"

"He noticed me all right."

"In a bad way? Martha stop talking in code, please. Tell me."

"He's married."

"And he didn't tell you?"

"We only talked for about five minutes. So no. But he doesn't look like a womanizer. He seemed nice."

"Did he like you? As a mate?"

"He told me he liked me. He really, really liked me. What does that mean?"

"Tell you what, I'm not that far away, I'll meet you for a sandwich, we can draw up a battle plan and figure out what to do about this bloke of yours."

"What, in this weather? I'm not going out, it's pouring down."

"What d'you mean?" Martha heard someone coming up behind her and she turned. And froze. It was him.

"I'll talk to you soon, Tish. Promise."

"Martha?"

"Bye." And she flicked the phone shut.

"Hello," said the Doctor.

"Hi," she replied softly.

"I'll see you in a second Martha," said Julia, tactfully removing herself. Martha opened her mouth.

"Why did you-" But she never got to finish the sentence. An explosion seemed to shatter the hospital. Things fell from the cupboards and the ground was whipped from beneath Martha's feet. She fell heavily, tossed left and right like a rag doll.

"Martha!" The Doctor grabbed her arm, steadied her, just as the unit in the staff kitchen collapsed where she was just about to fall.

"What the hell is going on?" she screamed, her hair falling in front of her face.

Then it stopped. Julia stumbled in, shaking, an angry gash across one cheek.

"Martha," she said hoarsely. "What the hell was that?" Martha examined her friend's cheek, plucking glass from the wound as she winced slightly.

"Are you alright?" asked the Doctor.

"I think so, yeah," Martha replied. She noticed Julia staring out the window, awe struck. "Julia?"

"It's night," she said. "But it was lunchtime…" Martha shook her head.

"It's not night."

"But it's got to be, it's dark."

"We're on the moon," said the Doctor, looking down at the two women crouched on the floor. Martha stood up, looking out the window in disbelief.

"We're on the bloody moon," she hissed. The Doctor suddenly burst into action.

"Sorry," he said. "I have to…" He began to sprint down the corridor.

"Wait!" Martha stumbled out the door and ran after him. "Doctor!" Her heels clacking on the clean plastic coated floor, Martha was led by into the female ward. There were people everywhere, crying, screaming.

"Help me! Help me!" A man was crying. Martha flicked back her hair. Took in a deep breath. Took charge.

"All right now everyone, back into bed, we've got an emergency but we'll sort it out." She pressed a hand against the long window showing the view across the beautiful moon. "It's real," she husked. "It's really real. Doctor?" She looked around. There he was. Hugging a woman dressed in a hospital gown and a navy blue robe.

"You're alright," he said smiling. "Fabulous." He shifted his position so Martha could see the girl he was hugging. Rose Tyler. She felt anger boiling up inside her. Bastard. Who wouldn't choose the beautiful Rose Tyler as his wife. Martha didn't think she was the jealous type, but this was unbearable. She forced down the irrational feelings. Rose was probably a lovely women once you got to know her. And she was trapped on the moon, all she could think about was another women. She was turning into her sister.

Rose looked over the Doctor's shoulder, her heart racing. She'd been scared when the earthquake thing had happened. She'd been tossed from the bed, thrown this way and that, amongst the screaming patients. But now the Doctor was here. The doctor would sort out everything.

"Wait!" she cried suddenly. "What are you doing?" The Doctor Rose had spoken to earlier was fiddling with the latch of the window, trying to open it. The Doctor released her and looked over at the girl. Jones, Rose recalled her name was. Her friend jerked slightly, looked up in shock at what Martha was doing.

"We'll lose all the air," she cried, tears flooding into a nasty cut along her face. Martha shook her head, curiosity taking her over entirely.

"They're not exactly airtight. If the air was gonna get sucked out, it would've happened straight away, but it didn't, so how come?"

"Correctamundo! So the question is, Martha, how are we still breathing?" Martha looked nervously at Rose.

"My name's Martha," she said. "I work here. Me and the Doctor met about an hour ago."

"Rose Tyler," she said. "I'm married to the Doctor." Martha nodded, her lips pursed.

"So, how are we still breathing?" she asked.

"That is a good question. Martha, is there a balcony on this floor, or a veranda…"

"On the patient's lounge," said Rose. "That's right isn't it?"

"Yeah, the patient's lounge," said Martha.

"D'you fancy going out?" asked the Doctor. She looked at him cautiously.

"Okay."

"We might die," he reminded her. She licked her lips.

"We might not."

"Good. C'mon Rose. Martha." He thrust a scornful glance at Julia. "Not her, she'll slow us down." And he was off. Martha squeezed her friend's hand reassuringly. But she'd made her descision. She followed the Doctor.