Authors Notes: Only the story I own the rest belongs to the BBC.
Martha Jones stood outside of the hospital waiting for the ambulance to arrive. She could not help the smile that crept over her face; of course she wasn’t happy someone got hurt. No, far from it. It was just the high of saving a life.
"What do we have coming in?" Martha asked her friend Jeremy as he came to stand beside her.
"Oh, get this. There was this fire over on Stanton. Two girls were trapped inside and some bloke ran inside to help them."
Martha beamed at Jeremy. Ever since she had moved back to the States, she had been teaching him British slang. He was doing quite well, but when it came to her learning American slang that was another story.
"Why here?” she asked, not understanding, “Everyone knows Chamberlain General is the best for burn victims.”
"Oh, he isn’t burned. Well, a little, but it’s minor. After he pulled the girls from danger, he was outside catching his breath and had a heart attack."
"Oh, dear. How bad?" she asked when she saw the ambulance approaching.
"Not sure that is the least of his problems. Looks like dextrocardia, and the paramedics didn't know until they shocked him."
"Shit," she gasped as they pulled the gurney into the hospital.
Dr. Jamie Nobleman hated children. Oh, yeah, you would not expect something like that to come from his lips, but he did. Especially gingers, and that was something he never thought he would say. There he was, minding his own business, walking to work like he did every day for the past week. He was going to ignore them but they said the magical word. "Help." How could he turn away from that?
He turned on their street and saw their equally ginger father trying to get inside and, well, he had to help them. It’s just that small children do not follow directions. They zig when you say zag and they just don’t follow directions. He got them out, though. They were safe and sound. He, on the other hand, was not fine at all. He had gotten burned. He could feel it so easily now. There was a huge burn on his back and one on his leg that was going to be hell to heal.
Then they just ran to their father, all hugs and smiles, and left him to have a heart attack all alone. It was so unfair. He wondered if this was how it felt to die. He had never done that before. Regenerated yes, but die? Nope. It would really be awful if that was the case. Technically, he was only three weeks old.
Martha had been working intently to get the patient stable. She could tell by his jerky movements and wild eyes that he didn't like hospitals much. Putting her hand on his cheek, she tried to soothe him. Martha didn't know what made her do that. It was one of her many problems. She tended to get too close to her patients. That was one thing she refused to change about herself, though. She would care. Unlike The Doctor and Tom Milligan, she wouldn't toy with someone’s feelings. She would consider the consequences.
"Am I dying?" she heard the voice from the bed whisper.
She looked down in the face of the man in the bed. His name was Jamie, according to his ID. Those eyes, those big chocolate brown eyes reminded her of someone. It couldn’t be. The man before her was human and only had one heart. Okay, yes, it was on the wrong side, but dare she hope? Was the Doctor in the States with her?
"Doctor?" she gasped as she turned his head to focus on her.
"Martha Jones! Hello!" he said enthusiastically.
Martha didn’t know how or why, but she was thrilled the Doctor was there with her. And then, the smile vanished from her face when his eyes rolled back into his head and he flatlined.