Title: Dreaming Through the Noise
By: _usakeh_
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Pairing: Martha/Tosh
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: This was written for the dw_femslash Femslash Ficathon. It is set after the third season of Doctor Who ends. If you have yet to see the finale, though, worry not! There are no significant spoilers to be found. Last but not least: many thanks to millari for her help with the story!

From as far back as she could remember, Toshiko Sato had dreamed about the apocalypse.

She’d seen the end come dozens, if not thousands, of times. Sometimes the seas swelled up and submerged city after city. Sometimes flames burst out across darkening landscapes. Sometimes planes swooped down upon and dropped bombs so small they looked like raindrops in a thunderstorm. But the explosions weren’t small. And they never stopped. That was the one constant: they never stopped. They never stopped, and she always survived. She ran and ran and kept on running, always in a state of pure terror. When she awoke, her skin was always covered in a thin layer of sweat.

So until she’d turned twelve, every single night before bed, she’d had to ask her mother, “But what if I die? What if I die in my sleep?” Her mother had replied, time after time, that she wouldn’t. She wasn’t going to suddenly stop breathing, and she certainly wasn’t going to die because of anything in her dreams. Only then could Toshiko close her eyes and let herself drift off into scenes filled with smoke and sirens. After her twelfth birthday, she’d stopped asking; instead, she’d stayed up, busied herself with projects until she was tired enough to fall into a completely dreamless sleep. Many things changed about Tosh in the years that followed; that, however, did not. It stayed exactly the same.

That’s why she should have known from the start. She should have known from the very first dream that the crystal was dangerous. She should have placed it back in storage. Under no circumstances should she have taken it home. The incident involving the pendant should have convinced her that hiding alien artifacts away was never a good idea, even if – no, especially if – they were incredibly alluring. But she hadn’t been convinced. At least, she hadn’t been convinced enough to make sure that it would never happen again. The dream that came with the crystal had been so gorgeous, so vivid; it had felt, she thought, realer than life itself. In movies, dream sequences were often shot in black-and-white, or in an odd gray; when the protagonist awoke, the screen would spring back into full color. For Tosh, once she found the crystal, it was the other way around.


“She’s coming out of it, Doctor Jones.” Tosh couldn’t hear the voice too clearly; everything sounded oddly muffled, damped down. “Doctor Jones?” Doctor? Hospital? Tosh tried to open her eyes; alas, she couldn’t quite manage it.

“I’ll be right there,” a voice cried out. Footsteps. “That’s good. She seems to be stabilizing.” Stabilizing? From what? Tosh could remember running down the fire escape from her apartment in the heavy rain. That hadn’t been a dream, had it? She really had raced down alleyways and darted across highways. She’d acted out her old nightmares – run as the fires rose up behind her, run as everything came to an end – at last. Then she’d tripped. She remembered that too. Tripping and falling. A sliver of silver slipping out of her pocket. And then nothing.

Tosh stirred. They had her on sedatives, most likely; otherwise, she knew, she’d be scared out of her mind. She didn’t know exactly where she was, or how she’d gotten there, and nothing – nothing – disturbed her more than did not knowing.

“Doctor.” When Tosh first croaked out the word, the woman by her side didn’t respond. “Doctor Jones?” That got her attention.

“Hello there,” the woman replied. She sounded bright, attentive. “I’m glad to see that you’re back with us, Ms. Sato.”

“What happened?” Tosh finally opened her eyes. She winced as the florescent light flooded in, revealing a small, standard hospital room whose only other occupant was a slim black woman in a lab coat. She looked surprisingly young; there was no way she could be over thirty.

“What happened?” Doctor Jones echoed. “To tell you the truth, Ms. Sato, I was hoping that you’d be able to tell me.”

Tosh couldn't have thought of a more disturbing nightmare. No apocalyptic scenario could compare to this feeling of helplessness. But if she knew one thing now, it was that this – this, here in the hospital – was not a dream.


“Why don’t we start with something relatively simple,” Doctor Jones said. She’d pulled up a seat by Tosh’s bed and was studying her carefully. “How did you get this stuck in your hand? Were you–”

“Don’t touch that.” Doctor Jones didn’t even have to open her hand all the way; Tosh recognized it from the first glimmer of reflected light. And then it came back to her. The initial thrill, the gloriously euphoric nights spent in its thrall. The way she’d clutched it to her, never let it leave her sight. It had been like the pendant all over again, only a thousand times more powerful. She’d needed nobody to urge her on; the tiny little gem did it all on its own. “Please believe me,” Tosh gasped, voice ragged, “when I tell you that it’s dangerous.” Tosh took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. It didn’t work. The fact that she couldn’t explain, couldn’t tell the truth lest Doctor Jones send her to the Psych Ward, wasn’t exactly making it easier for her to breathe. She didn’t have the strength to come up with a story. Not now.

“I believe you,” Doctor Jones said. “Now tell me why.” There was a look in the young doctor’s eyes Tosh hadn’t seen anywhere in what felt like forever. Inquisitiveness. Curiosity. Determination. They were qualities she’d once seen every time she looked in the mirror. When had that changed? When had the job she’d initially loved become a chore, nothing more than one stressful situation after the next? “Tell me why, Ms. Sato,” Doctor Jones prompted her.

“I…I can’t.” Tosh had to fight to keep her voice from shaking. She wanted to explain it so badly; if she did, though, this young doctor would follow her. Follow her all the way back to the hub. They’d never shake her; Gwen’s pitiful attempts to infiltrate Torchwood would look like nothing compared to what this girl could do. She knew that. But Torchwood Three had no openings for another doctor. So they’d end up Retconning her; of that Tosh was entirely certain. And that – allowing her coworkers to wipe her memory – would be the worst sort of betrayal.

“I know what it’s like.” Doctor Jones reached out and took Tosh’s uninjured hand in hers. Her touch was firm, confident. “I know what it’s like to know something and not be able to say anything about it for fear that nobody else will believe you. That they’ll look at you like you’re mad.”

“Do you?” Tosh sat up slowly. “Do you really?” What could this young woman have possibly encountered?

“Yes.” Doctor Jones paused. For the first time, she appeared uncertain; then, after taking a deep breath, she continued. “I once did some traveling with a man who called himself the Doctor. This may not mean anything to you, but if you’d like, I could…I could tell you about it.”

“The Doctor.” It took Tosh a moment to make the connection; when she did, it left her speechless for a good three seconds. “The Doctor and…Martha Jones. Martha Jones,” she repeated dumbly. “You’re Martha Jones.”

“You know me? And him?” Martha looked as shocked as Tosh felt. Her black eyes were wide open.

“I have a friend who went away with him, too.” Tosh hesitated. “Maybe you know him. His name is Jack.”

“Captain Jack?” The smile of recognition that spread across Martha’s face was positively stunning. “Captain Jack Harkness?” Tosh nodded. “And let me guess, now: you work for Torchwood, right?”

“Yes,” Tosh said. The relief she felt at being able to say it was indescribable. “I do.”


“Are you sure? Are you sure that it was…intending to do that?” Martha asked, glancing down at the crystal. “It doesn’t seem sentient.”

“No. I’m not sure. But I’ve seen this sort of thing happen before too many times,” Tosh replied. She had to give credit where it was due; she’d just told the other woman that she’d been convinced the crystal hosted an alien life form that had tried to take over her body, and she hadn’t even flinched. Then again, she was Martha Jones, the Doctor’s second companion. Tosh knew all about the Doctor. She’d practically memorized every scrap of information Jack had given them.

“So you tried to throw yourself in front of a car?” Martha frowned. “Surely you could have…couldn’t you have asked Jack to help you?”

“I…I didn’t do it on purpose.” Tosh shuddered. “I just started running, and I…I couldn’t stop. That’s all I know. I don’t remember anything else.” Maybe it had occurred to her, at some point, that the only way to redeem herself for her failure – her second failure – would be to die, to die honorably, before the alien fully took control of her body. But nothing was clear; her memories and her dreams were blurring together.

“They told me that you jumped in front of a car. It stopped before it hit you, thank goodness. But you collapsed as if it had. And yet, now, your vital signs are back to normal.” Martha glanced at the crystal. “You’ll take it to Torchwood tomorrow, won’t you? I can’t analyze it here.”

“Yes,” Tosh replied. “I’m going to take it there directly.”

“Now?” Martha asked.

“That’s up to you, isn’t it?” Tosh tugged at the hospital ID bracelet tied around her wrist. “As soon as you declare me healthy, I’ll be on my way.”

Tosh made a few mental calculations. So long as there wasn’t much traffic, she could probably make it to the Hub in under an hour. She’d just have to call a cab. It would be a long hour, though. Tosh glanced warily at the crystal. A very long hour. Then again, she’d brought it on herself; if anything, she ought to feel fortunate that nothing worse had happened.

“Do you want a ride?” Martha’s eyes were warm, inviting. Tosh only barely managed to stop herself from pulling her into a close hug, or – God knows – something still more inappropriate. Tosh looked her over anew. Her features were so perfectly arrayed, so symmetrical. Those deep eyes and full lips, and that smile. Then there were her curves, clear even beneath the loose lab coat. God!

Tosh blushed. She’d only spoken to Martha Jones for ten minutes – ten minutes, out of the hours it would take for the girl to recount all her adventures – and she was already focused on how it would feel to shag her? For shame! “Toshiko? Are you all right?”

“Yes!” Tosh replied a little too loudly. “Fine. Perfectly fine. And…feel free to call me Tosh. That’s what everybody else calls me. As for the ride…is it okay for you to do that? To just…leave?” That wasn’t the way most hospitals worked, if Tosh remembered correctly.

“It is,” Martha responded, “if I’m off-duty.”

“Off-duty?”

“I stayed because I was curious,” Martha said. “You can only look at so many broken bones before you just find yourself longing for something more interesting. And your case looked promising.” Martha paused. “Sometimes I wonder whether it’s wrong of me to think of patients that way, to divide them up into ‘interesting cases’ and ‘dull cases.’ But I do it anyway.”

“So do I.” Tosh pushed back the blankets and blushed as they revealed her thin blue hospital gown. “I…I’m in no position to recruit, but now that I know who you are, I could ask Jack whether…”

“Thanks, Toshiko,” Martha interrupted, “but no. I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.” Martha smiled. “You still want a ride?”

“That,” Tosh said, “would be wonderful.”


Tosh laughed aloud three times before they even reached Martha’s car. She felt oddly giddy. Of course, given the fact that she’d panicked, been dosed with tranquilizers, and then met Martha Jones all within a few feverish hours, it would be strange if she were to be feeling otherwise. Wouldn’t it? Tosh stared up at the stars, allowed the cool wind to ripple through her hair. Martha had the crystal wrapped up in a biohazard box; instead of feeling a terrible need for it, as she had on past occasions when she’d attempted to leave it behind, Tosh felt…free. She could talk to Martha. She could tell her everything. They could be the best of friends, if only she could manage not to ruin it by giving in to the near irresistible urge she had to just draw her arms around the other woman and kiss her. She could imagine how Martha’s body would feel – perfectly formed, with shapely, muscled shoulders and arms and curves in all the right places – pressed up against her own. Her nipples hardened with arousal at the very thought of slipping her tongue inside the other woman’s mouth. God, how she wanted it.

“So, how are you feeling?” Martha asked, glancing over at Tosh.

“Better.” What had they given her? She felt downright intoxicated now. “Just a little tipsy,” she added.

“I’m sorry. The drugs we used to calm you down often have that effect on people. If you’d like, you could rest in my car for a while. We wouldn’t want Jack to think you’d been out drinking now, would we? He’d be simply appalled.”

“I’m sure he would.” Tosh smiled. She’d given up on trying to stop her cheeks from flushing bright red. “You sure you don’t want to join us? Jack would be ecstatic. He had nothing but good things to say about you.”

“I’m sure.” Martha placed a hand on Tosh’s shoulder to steady her. “Not now, anyway. Maybe in a few years, I’ll be ready for it.”

“I hope so.” Tosh stumbled a bit. She did not do it just so that Martha would catch her and place an arm around her waist. Absolutely not. It had been completely accidental, a result of her heels hitting a crack in the cement. Tosh giggled. To think that she’d nearly thrown herself in front of a car only a few hours back because she’d believed herself to be possessed by an alien device. Had it been true? Or had it just been madness, paranoia caused by working long hours at a crazy job and spending far too much time alone? She wasn’t sure anymore. She found that she couldn’t place items neatly into categories as she usually did; her ability to arrange and structure arguments had, at least for the moment, disappeared. It didn’t scare her this time, though. It was all right to let go, at least for now; she had Martha there with her, and Martha was going to take her to Torchwood. And then, maybe, Martha was going to take her home.

Before she could stop herself, Tosh imagined Martha standing before her, nude. Shapely breasts and a taut, athletic body. God. Then she saw her body spread out on her bed, saw her there, waiting…but no. No.

She could not possibly spoil what she’d found – a friend in whom she could confide – because she wanted to get into the girl’s pants. Martha probably wasn’t even interested in women. And yet she couldn’t help but hope against hope that Martha’s gestures – the way she was pulling Tosh towards her – meant that the other girl saw something in her, too. Not yet, Tosh told herself. Not yet.


“So, here we are,” Martha said, gesturing down at her car.

“Oh.” Tosh looked up at Martha. She was standing in the worst lighting possible – a combination of weak moonlight and florescent orange lights – in what was probably the least romantic location save for a landfill, and yet that did absolutely nothing to lessen the strength of Tosh’s desire. If anything, it increased it. “I…well,” Tosh began, “I just wanted to tell you, again, that I’m really grateful for this. I appreciate it tremendously.”

“Anytime,” Martha responded smoothly. But Tosh could tell: her casual smile was concealing a confused expression.

“And…I’m glad that all of this happened, just because it ended up with the two of us meeting. I can never discuss my work, and I’m just dying to hear about your adventures. I…oh God,” Tosh gasped, giving in at last, “please don’t take this the wrong way, but I really, really want to kiss you right now, Martha Jones.” Upon saying that, Tosh immediately buried her head in her hands. God. Oh God. Shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t have –

“Then what are you doing that for?” Martha tugged at Tosh’s arms until she dropped her hands from her face. “You’re never going to kiss me that way!”

“You mean…you actually…wouldn’t mind?” Tosh managed. She didn’t think she’d ever been quite so embarrassed in her life. And given that she worked with Jack Harkness on a daily basis, that was saying something. But then, before she could consider the matter further, Martha’s lips pressed up against hers. So soft, so full. Instinctively, Tosh slipped her tongue inside Martha’s mouth. Martha responded equally aggressively, pushing Tosh back against the side of her car.

“Okay?” Martha pulled away a bit after their third kiss, carefully giving Tosh some room to breathe. “Is this okay, Tosh?”

“Is this okay?” Tosh repeated, incredulous. “God, yes.” And then, to her amazement, she managed to spin Martha around so that the other woman’s back was up against the side of the car. Again, she leaned in, wrapping her arms around Martha and thrusting their bodies together. The sheer adrenaline racing through her veins had overpowered the tranquilizers at last. “Want to go to Torchwood tomorrow?” Tosh whispered in between kisses. “Tonight…”

“Your place,” Martha interrupted, running a hand along Tosh’s side, “or mine?”


Tosh didn’t dream at all, that night. The crystal was safely stored in the box and, just for good measure, placed inside Martha’s freezer. Neither of them had been particularly convinced that the measure would provide them with any more security; at the time, however, the logic had seemed oddly compelling. But, then again, they hadn’t given it that much thought. They’d had other things on their mind. Tosh stirred and glanced towards the window; the sun was just beginning to rise. Her friend – lover? girlfriend? who knew, yet! – was still sleeping. It had been a long time – a very long time – since she’d woken up with somebody else beside her. And it felt wonderful.

“Good morning,” Martha mumbled a few minutes later, turning over to face her.

“Good morning.” Tosh felt slightly bashful. They’d been entirely uninhibited from the moment they’d entered Martha’s flat; now, however, the prospect of kissing the other woman made her nervous. There were so many questions she wanted – needed – to ask. Do you like me? Do you really like me? Was I just a one-night stand for you? Do you do one-night stands? We’re friends no matter what, right? God, it was overwhelming. Instead, she inquired, “Do you have to be at work soon?”

“Nope.” Martha smiled. “I have the day off. How about you?”

“Well…I don’t exactly…I don’t really get days off,” Tosh sighed.

“This is why I’m not signing up to work for Torchwood quite yet,” Martha joked. “I’ll just bet you Captain Jack doesn’t exactly take much stake by that rule, though,” she added.

“You’d be surprised. He’s actually–”

“Don’t worry! I’ll tell him myself when I see him in a few hours.”

“Tell him yourself?“

“Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about taking me to Torchwood! Or have you?” Martha asked.

“My last girlfriend was actually an alien. She seduced me so that she could get into Torchwood. Jack transported her into the center of the sun.”

“Talk about a bad breakup,” Martha quipped. Had Owen said it, Tosh would have wanted to smack him; the warmth in Martha’s voice, though, made all the difference. “And how might I go about proving to you that I’m not an alien? Are there any tests?” Martha added, eyes twinkling.

“I can think of a few,” Tosh replied. Then, with no further ado, she burrowed down under the covers. As she ran her hands along Martha’s smooth skin, she felt ridiculously fortunate. No dream, after all, could quite compete with this.