today's snippet
May. 6th, 2007 08:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabFor Liz, who asked me to invent a cliche about doctors being beautiful, so dammit, I did.
“Now, he’s much too pretty to be a doctor, so tell me, who is he?”
Martha raises an eyebrow at Tish, who just smiles innocently back.
“Too pretty to be a doctor?” Martha says. “Whereas I suppose I’m just homely enough for the job, is that it?”
Tish laughs. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she says, but in a way, Martha actually agrees. Maybe on Gallifrey the doctors all come that beautiful, but on Earth, and in London, specifically, female doctors tended to be a scraggly, snaggletoothed bunch, more interested in reading sample slides than running a comb through their hair.
And Martha’d fought it, even through school, even with late night classes and early morning exams, she’d commit herself to some face time in front of the mirror, and she never left the house without makeup and her handbag, and she spent more on hair product than she did on food some weeks, and she always, always polished her teeth.
“He is gorgeous, isn’t he?” she nudges Tish, shoulder to shoulder, and her sister squeezes her knee.
“I’ll say,” says Tish. “How old is he? Thirty? Thirty-two?”
Martha realizes she has no idea, but she’s sure it’s decades older than that, centuries maybe. Just like Lazarus, doomed to keep his beauty forever while all around him everything fades. Unwitting, Martha touches her cheek, feels the corner of her eye for wrinkles.
“He fancies you,” says Tish.
And Martha’d never really thought of the Doctor’s looks as a liability before, but now she almost pities him, traveling through space and time with that face, leaving broken hearts in his wake. And she thinks of all the patients who fall in love with the doctors who save their lives, and she thinks, maybe she shouldn’t work so hard to be beautiful anymore.
“Now, he’s much too pretty to be a doctor, so tell me, who is he?”
Martha raises an eyebrow at Tish, who just smiles innocently back.
“Too pretty to be a doctor?” Martha says. “Whereas I suppose I’m just homely enough for the job, is that it?”
Tish laughs. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she says, but in a way, Martha actually agrees. Maybe on Gallifrey the doctors all come that beautiful, but on Earth, and in London, specifically, female doctors tended to be a scraggly, snaggletoothed bunch, more interested in reading sample slides than running a comb through their hair.
And Martha’d fought it, even through school, even with late night classes and early morning exams, she’d commit herself to some face time in front of the mirror, and she never left the house without makeup and her handbag, and she spent more on hair product than she did on food some weeks, and she always, always polished her teeth.
“He is gorgeous, isn’t he?” she nudges Tish, shoulder to shoulder, and her sister squeezes her knee.
“I’ll say,” says Tish. “How old is he? Thirty? Thirty-two?”
Martha realizes she has no idea, but she’s sure it’s decades older than that, centuries maybe. Just like Lazarus, doomed to keep his beauty forever while all around him everything fades. Unwitting, Martha touches her cheek, feels the corner of her eye for wrinkles.
“He fancies you,” says Tish.
And Martha’d never really thought of the Doctor’s looks as a liability before, but now she almost pities him, traveling through space and time with that face, leaving broken hearts in his wake. And she thinks of all the patients who fall in love with the doctors who save their lives, and she thinks, maybe she shouldn’t work so hard to be beautiful anymore.
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Date: 2007-05-07 03:08 am (UTC)And she thinks of all the patients who fall in love with the doctors who save their lives
perfect. xoxoxox.