#and like sure they're both hanging out with jack at torchwood but it's so out of the blue

[variousqueerthings]

VERY RAMBLY BUT I think rose and martha are like the inverse of one another in terms of narrative, in that they both meet a doctor who is deeply deeply hurt, but the doctor interacts with them about it so differently, because of where they're at with that hurt, and the doctor is like "hey, I'm suave and vulnerable beneath the surface, which is quite attractive, want to travel in space and time in my whimsical timeship?" and they both go "oh heck yes!" and then it's like splintered glass from that point on, like martha lives in a funhouse mirror of rose's story -- up until she makes it her own of course and she does call the doctor out on it relatively early on, although rose continues to have that haunting effect

so rose has this bubble created around her that is perfect and unchangeable almost, in which nothing bad can ever happen (except for all the times it does but huuush, we'll be together forever forrealsies don't look at that big ol hurricane hurtling our way), which then inevitably bursts, but is always there-as-memory, because rose becomes something of an impossible ideal to some extent

and martha isn't protected at all, and has all the badness spilling out on her because the doctor is unable to contain any of it (and maybe is relieved to finally give up on being strong), and subsequently all of the promise of wonder has an air of sourness to it, and the doctor will always feel incredibly guilty about how it all ended

but crucially there's a lot they have in common, that is quite different to, say, donna (who is woven in in her own, interesting, way) -- they both become attracted to this powerful, interesting, and suuuper traumatised being, they're both taken along on a journey of promised wonders, they're both incredibly reliable to the point that the narrative is retroactively fitted around how much the doctor's belief-systems revolve around belief in their companions, with many others from the past given their dues (starting with sarah-jane), and they both do see wonders beyond their comprehension (and so does donna, but again, there's something a bit different there to poke at in another post...),

except where for rose this wonder helps her break out of the path that was set down for her and become who she always had the potential to be in a way that is mostly framed as a positive (although with some -- I think -- under-analysed caveats...) and she will be forever thankful for the doctor arriving in her life, martha's is more like an awe that the universe is so hostile and so lonely and so heartbreaking, and so she needs to become more resilient and more ready to make choices that are terrible (from travelling the broken world for a year to the osterhagen key....), and so there's another story about someone who becomes strong and tough (just like rose) but it's because the doctor wasn't really able to be there for her, and while I don't think the show (from memory) ever has her totally regretting the doctor dropping into her life, there for sure is some solemnity to how her story ends, a bit of a dampener in comparison (even tbh in comparison to donna, who yeah, gets her memory taken, but is suggested -- now confirmed perhaps? -- to get more of her life in order/feel more self-confident, also partially because of that subliminal influence of her time with the doctor)

and this isn't to say that it's all-bad for martha! her working for UNIT and Torchwood has a lot of very interesting facets to it, and she is fulfilling her potential to be this impressive, capable person, but the ways all of this was built up to is so heartrending

rose coming in and "saving" the doctor, except it was a bit of a lie, because the second she wasn't there they crashed even harder than before, and martha coming in with the idea that she could save the doctor and walking away when realising what it was doing to her life, and both rose and martha irrevocably changed to the point that the person pre-doctor is barely recognisable in them anymore, both take on the doctor's self-sacrificial traits...

and also the idea that rose gets the fantasy, but it's the fantasy a-bit-to-the-left (funhouse again) because there's always something a bit disconcerting about the lengths the doctor goes to to maintain the bubble, to the point of offering up the alternate-him/tentoo so that she can still have it, even though the actual physical doctor that shared it with her isn't actually there! and martha gets the glimpse of the fantasy, and then has to come to terms with the fact that she's not the person it's "for" and reassess her relationship to the idea of a fantasy in the first place (it helps that martha is an incredibly practical, pragmatic person, but it's still so... ouch)

I don't think it was intentional, but this also fascinating from the perspective of rose as a white woman and martha as a black woman -- who is the fantasy for, to the extent that strange and universe-breaking events go into maintaining it, and who has to be practical and pragmatic and self-reliant?

and also, it's got more tragedy in both cases -- rose as a spectre/haunter of the narrative is always a little bit intangible when she's looked back on (even though in the story she's in she's incredibly real and well-rounded, every time I go back to s1 I am struck by how grounded she is in reality), and I think that's something interesting in terms of her mother's warning in s2, how if she travels with the doctor "forever" she'll become something else, something not her

and martha's mother warns her as well, although she's not completely sure of what, and in contrast to rose this warning comes into very painful fruition, harming her entire family (except, maybe her brother? I wonder if there's anything written about that), but where rose is so omnipresent, martha tries several times to take herself out

(also something about both of their mothers being their anchor-points)

there's something there that's at the centre of both rose's and martha's arcs:

is the change they're going through because of the doctor... good? good for them? good for their families? good as in they're becoming better people than before? good for the world they inhabit? is it good for the person they used to be? did they become better than that person? can they ever truly deal with or even begin to comprehend how these events made them who they are? can they even connect who they are now to who they were then? was this good?

they both become these larger-than-life people, somewhat without noticing on both parts (but the narrative does notice), one of them a ghost, and the other a soldier -- one of them an increasingly intangible, ever-present idea, and the other someone who has to fight every step of the way

it's just a bunch of things I've had going through my head that I can't quite formulate in coherent essay-like sentences, but for sure it's there

opposite sides of the coin, rose tyler and martha jones

I do wish they'd had space in the story for them to talk

[meta-squash]

Some random maybe rambling thoughts about Jack and his feelings towards his team:

I think Jack's love for, relationship with, and treatment of each individual member of his team is really interesting.

Owen and Tosh are the two team members he truly hand-picked. He followed Owen and recruited him. He literally tracked Tosh down and made a deal to get her out of a UNIT prison. He did his research finding them, making sure they were right, convincing them to join him. He did, essentially, save them and allow them a space to remake themselves.

And for the most part he treats the two of them in a sort of paternal way. Owen, especially, but both of them. He's firm when he needs to be, and gentle when he needs to be, but there's this sort of distant yet intense protectiveness of them. Like the way a parent still sees their child as a vulnerable thing that needs caring for, even after their child is a fully grown adult. His love for them is extremely protective, but he's not close with them, he doesn't confess his thoughts or feelings to them except in dire circumstances like in Dead Man Walking when he's with Owen in the jail.

So his loss of them is a loss of a father because, in a sense, he created who they were in Torchwood. He found them, worked to recruit them. He gave them a space to grow and learn and change and hone their talents, and he supported and taught and molded them. They were part of his earliest hand-picked team, too, so they were there for long enough that they saw the growing pains, and they were his, in a way that I think he was sort of convinced they'd be with him for a long time, which is why he was so desperate to bring Owen back the first time. He loved them so much he kind of forgot Torchwood has a high mortality rate, sort of in the way a parent assumes they won't bury their child.

On the other hand, both Ianto and Gwen kind of recruited themselves. Ianto harassed Jack into a job, and Gwen unintentionally brute-forced herself out of Retcon in such a spectacularly dramatic way that it got her a job. They found him, not the other way around.

Jack's relationship with them is different. He's closer to them, less paternal, more confessional, more romantic. It's interesting that he sees them both as potential (and in Ianto's case, eventual) love interests. It seems like he doesn't feel quite as responsible for them, or at least he feels responsible in a different way. He's able to open up to them about himself in a way that he doesn't do with Tosh and Owen. And he's not as put off when they question him. It's almost as if because they independently forced themselves into the job, they're more like equals, or rivals, or something. There's a different sort of potential relationship there from Owen and Tosh.

But it also means that he doesn't or can't love them in the same way. I think somehow he subconsciously thinks he can stop himself from falling in love romantically, but he doesn't seem to think about that parental type of love. So he tries to keep his distance from Gwen and Ianto a bit, knowing he'll hurt them and they'll hurt him. But he doesn't take Owen and Tosh into account. But it does mean that Ianto's loss is different one. It's a grief of a romantic type, the loss of a lover, but it's also this awful "what if" that hangs there, what if Jack had been willing to be closer, had been willing to have a proper relationship with Ianto while it lasted instead of this sort of weird undefined thing, what if Ianto had lived, etc. And Gwen, too, becomes a "what if," in a living sense, once she's married to Rhys. That frisson is always there between them, but once she and Rhys are married it becomes a sort of hypothetical between them, what if she'd chosen Jack, what if they took it past the abstraction of yearning into something real, what if what if, etc. Only it's not mourning, it's something else entirely because she's still there with him.

I just find it so interesting that the two hand-picked members Jack seems to see as his children and the two who forced their way into to Torchwood he seems to see as potential romantic interests.