Nativitas (2/4)
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/225394.html">Nativitas (2/4) by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha/Ten, OCs | Rating: NC-17 | Spoilers: S3)
Title: Nativitas (2/4)
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Ten, OCs
Rating: NC-17
Warning: This is going to be a dark fic.
Spoilers: Season 3
Summary: A year after she walked out, Martha boards the TARDIS again to travel with the Doctor.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish that I did own it!
Author Notes: This fic is set about a year after "The Last of the Time Lords" and is essentially AU to Season 4. This chapter borrows some elements from the BFA: "The Skull of Sobek" but you don't need to have heard that to understand this. Thanks to radiantbaby for a much needed plot suggestion at the right moment!
Special thanks goes to my beta fourzoas together with concordiaadieu, ebbyzone, jadekirk and radiantbaby. The five of them acted as my cheering section, offering ideas, concrit and support during the writing of this story. It's a lot better thanks to them. Any remaining infelicities are my own.
Part 1
~~~~~~
"So, where are we heading?" asked Martha, pulling up the zip on her jacket, then shoving her hands into her pockets; it was still winter in Darvel, and the air had a sharp bite to it. The snow in the alley where the TARDIS had landed had a blue tinge to it, she noticed, but the alley itself seemed much like many others she'd been in.
"We're going to the government offices," the Doctor answered, his eyes scanning their surroundings even as he pulled a small pair of leather gloves from his coat pocket and passed them over to her. "We're looking for one Ejer Ballademager."
"And who's he, when he's at home?" she asked, smiling in gratitude as she accepted the gloves and slid them on; it still amazed her that he managed to carry so much in his pockets without it ever being obvious.
"He's the man who's been trying to buy the Space Station dirt cheap for the last four months, and has been rather vocal in criticising the government for not selling it to him."
"So, you reckon he might be responsible for the virus being genetically modified and introduced onto the Space Station?" Martha asked, slipping her arm through his when he crooked his elbow at her.
"I do indeed," the Doctor responded, his tone crisp and hard. "So I think we should go and see what dirt we can dig up on him, and see if we can find some proof with which we can stop him doing the same thing again."
He led her down the alley toward the main road, where they found a tram stop. She looked around, noting that the people looked humanoid, and that there seemed to be an even mix of brown-skinned and white-skinned people passing them, which meant that neither she nor the Doctor stood out from the locals, which was useful. If they were meant to be sleuthing, it was probably best that they blended in as much as possible at the outset.
They only had to wait a few minutes for a tram to appear.
"Quicker than walking," the Doctor said as they settled into a seat in the middle of the tram.
"And means we can save our energy in case there's any running to be done later," she observed quietly.
"One of the many things I like about you, Martha Jones, is your practical nature." He slid an arm around her shoulders and smiled, unseen, when she leaned into his side.
"So, what do we know about this Ejer Balladwhosit?"
"Ballademager," he supplied. "And not a great deal. He's very rich and, like many rich men, somewhat reclusive. His name, translated literally, means Master Troublemaker, which I find a little worrying."
"Huh, he doesn't sound very pleasant," Martha observed.
"He's not, as far as I can tell. There were some reports on the Skynet - that's Derillium's equivalent of the internet - of him being in trouble with the local law enforcement people, but no one's ever been able to pin anything on him. Witnesses have a nasty habit of either disappearing or of suddenly withdrawing their complaints."
"They're bought off?" she asked.
"Or threatened so badly they're too scared to testify."
"The more I hear about him, the less I like him."
"I know." The tram came to a stop. "We're here."
They got off the tram and the Doctor took Martha's hand to lead her through the traffic that was streaming in both directions, and across the road to a grey, four-storey building.
"We didn't get asked for a ticket," she observed as the realisation hit her.
"No, public transport's free across the whole of Darvel, to encourage people to use it, rather than clogging up the streets with private transport."
"Huh, they should try that in London." She looked up at the imposing façade of the building before them: a flight of wide steps flanked on either side by pillars, with intricate patterns carved into them, led up to double doors that were even taller than the Time Lord.
"Shall we?" asked the Doctor.
"Yep."
They hurried up the steps and into the spacious, well-lit reception area where a concierge in a smart grey and blue uniform immediately approached them and offered her assistance. A few moments later they were seated side by side at two computer terminals in a large room full of them.
The Doctor showed Martha which of the information portals would be most relevant for their search for information, then handed her a slip of paper.
"That's the correct spelling of our man's name," he told her quietly, and she gave him a nod.
They spent a frustrating hour trying to find more than a few tidbits of information on Ejer Ballademager, and the Doctor was beginning to think they would never find anything more substantial when Martha gave a quiet gasp and straightened in her chair.
"Have you found something?" he asked in a low voice.
"Maybe." She waited while he scooted his chair closer, then pointed to the screen which showed details of the divorce of Ejer Ballademager from one Buio Cavallo.
"An ex-wife has potential, I think," muttered the Doctor.
"That's what I was thinking," she agreed.
"Let's try looking her up, and hope that she's not as reclusive as her ex."
Martha nodded and copied the name from the document she was looking at, pasted it into the search engine of the database she'd been using, and then hit 'search'.
"Bingo!" he exclaimed quietly when a screenful of data was displayed. He leaned across to peer at the screen, resting his arm along the back of Martha's chair so he could keep his balance. As they read through the various pages of information, discovering that Buio Cavallo was a successful business woman in her own right, he moved his arm and began lightly stroking the nape of Martha's neck, and toying with the ends of her spiky hairdo.
She glanced sideways at him a couple of times, but his attention seemed wholly focused on the screen, and she decided that he probably wasn't even aware of what he was doing. She remembered that he used to do something similar while they sat watching TV together in 1969, and since it was both soothing and pleasant, she decided that she wasn't going to object.
"This looks like her most recent address," the Doctor said, pointing at the top of the screen. "Shall we go and pay Ms Cavallo a visit?"
Martha nodded. "It wouldn't hurt."
* * * * * *
They took another tram to Ms Cavallo's office, and the Doctor eventually managed to persuade her very haughty PA that Ms Cavallo would want to spare them at least five minutes of her time to hear them out.
"It can only be five minutes," the PA said. "Ms Cavallo's time is very precious and - "
"Time is money, yes, yes." The Doctor just managed not to sneer at him for using such a trite and inaccurate comment. As the PA went away, leaving them in a well-appointed but rather bland waiting room, the Time Lord felt Martha squeeze his arm, and he raised his eyebrows at her.
"What is it?" he asked quietly.
"He may be an oily, obnoxious creep, but it won't help us if you upset him and we get thrown out before we can speak to Ms Cavallo," she answered softly.
He opened his mouth to retort that he wasn't about to lose his temper, then closed it again as he realised that was a lie. He shifted his arm so he could take hold of her hand and ducked his head to give her a quick kiss on the lips.
Martha felt startled by the Doctor's quicksilver change of mood; she'd thought she had got used to it, but now she realised that she'd forgotten just how quickly his mood could change. She was also startled by the kiss; she wondered, yet again, what he'd been through during the year that he'd been alone, and resolved to ask him at the earliest opportunity.
At Martha's words the Doctor's mind had involuntarily leapt back to an occasion when he'd mistakenly allowed his anger to get the better of him, and she hadn't been there to stop him.
Nine months ago
The Doctor stared in disbelief at the monitor in front of him where the encampment of Hoolings had just disappeared, completely vaporised. He looked up, and the Grooling Captain beside him flinched visibly at the cold, dark expression in the Time Lord's eyes.
"You lied to me," the Doctor said, visibly struggling with his temper.
"Of course we lied," grated the Captain, obviously hoping that bluster would work in his favour. "If we had told you that the device was a weapon to kill our enemies, not a transmat to send supplies to the encampment, you wouldn't have fixed it."
The Doctor pushed back his chair and stood up, and the Captain flinched again as the Time Lord towered over him.
"I came here in answer to your distress signal," he spoke quietly, but his tone was full of menace, "and you told me that the people in that encampment were sick and in need of food and medical supplies. You begged me to fix that device for you, insisting that it was the only way to help them before they died. You lied to me. You betrayed my trust. You made me kill 125 innocent people."
He grabbed the Captain and hauled him up off his feet so that they were eye to eye. "I will make you pay for that," he snarled.
The Grooling shuddered and tried to squirm out of the Doctor's grasp. "You can't," he gasped.
"Oh yes I can," the Time Lord answered, his expression grim. "Believe me, I can." He dropped the Captain onto his feet carelessly so that the Grooling staggered. Then he bent back down to the weapon and began fiddling with it.
"What are you doing?" croaked the Captain, massaging his throat. He was more than a little alarmed that the Doctor had picked him up so easily.
"Disabling this so it can't be used again."
"You can't!" protested the Grooling.
"I'm getting very tired of hearing you say that to me," growled the Time Lord without looking up.
The Captain glowered unseen, then hurried out of the room.
The Doctor glanced up as the door closed, and if the Grooling had seen his expression, he'd have known that leaving the Time Lord alone with the weapon was a bad idea.
Ten minutes later the sound of the TARDIS dematerialising faded away. The Captain congratulated himself on the fact that all his enemies had been destroyed, and that even if the Doctor had deactivated the weapon again, the Groolings certainly wouldn't need it any time soon since it would take the Hoolings months to build up sufficient numbers of warriors to attack again.
Two minutes later the weapon, which hadn't been deactivated at all, but set to overload, blew up, taking out the Captain and his own warrior encampment. It probably wouldn't have consoled him to know that within a few days the Doctor deeply regretted losing his temper in such a fashion.
* * * * * *
Now
"Doctor." Martha's softly insistent voice brought his attention back to his surroundings and he glanced down at her slightly anxious expression and apologised.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "I spoke to you twice and you didn't answer."
"I'm sorry," he repeated. He rubbed a hand over his face and she thought he looked weary. "I was just remembering a time when I needed someone to stop me and you weren't there."
She looked surprised, but was spared the necessity of finding an answer by the entrance of Ms Cavallo, who was an imposing woman at least as tall as the Doctor. She was dressed in a pale grey trouser suit, which contrasted with her dark skin, and her black hair was swept up into a severe bun: she looked both elegant and fashionable.
"Dr Smith and Dr Jones, I presume?" she asked in honeyed tones.
"Ms Cavallo." The Doctor bowed over her hand and Martha half expected him to kiss it.
She settled for a quick handshake and couldn't help noticing the way the other woman eyed her jeans and leather jacket, looking less than impressed.
"What can I do for you?" asked Ms Cavallo. "I gather from Mr Silk that you were quite insistent about seeing me."
The Doctor briefly explained about the viral outbreak on the Space Station and their suspicion that Ballademager was involved in the virus being engineered and used.
"We were hoping you might have some information that would help us to prove the case against him," he finished.
"If I help you, do you intend to let him know where you got your information?" she asked.
"That's entirely up to you," he answered. "If you prefer to remain out of the picture, we'll say nothing."
Martha had watched the other woman closely during the Doctor's explanation of the reason for their visit, and she felt she had shrewd idea of Ms Cavallo's mindset, so she wasn't surprised by the older woman's smile or her words.
"If you can get him arrested and charged, then you can tell him that I gladly gave you the information you needed," she answered. "Come through to my office."
They followed her into an office that looked more like a sumptuous drawing room than a workplace, and seated themselves, at her gesture, on a midnight blue leather sofa, while Ms Cavallo went to her desk beside the picture window and sat at the computer.
"I bet UNIT won't be giving me an office like this," Martha said softly.
The Doctor laughed quietly. "I doubt that even the Brigadier has an office as posh as this one."
Ms Cavallo rejoined them, a small object in her hand. To Martha it looked like an ordinary memory stick, and when the older woman held it out to her, she found that was essentially what it was.
"Take this and use it well," the other woman said. "Do your best to destroy him as he has tried, and too often succeeded, in destroying others through his selfishness and greed."
Martha nodded, startled by the vehemence in her tone.
"We'll do our best," the Doctor agreed, a grim expression on his face.
* * * * * *
Martha and the Doctor went from Ms Cavallo's office to a Skynet café, and from there to see a research scientist who'd briefly worked for Ballademager until moral objections to the work Ballademager had him doing made his position untenable. Ms Cavallo had provided them with details of half a dozen individuals like Dr Farmer, but he was their first port of call.
Farmer strenuously denied all involvement in Ballademager's plot, getting very angry with them for even suggesting such a thing, and threatening to call the police if they repeated their accusations to anyone else.
Martha could see that the Doctor didn't believe Farmer's protestations any more than she did: a year of being on the run had taught her how to read people, and she could tell he was terrified, and not just of them telling someone else.
Temporarily thwarted, they headed back to the Skynet café for coffee, over which they discussed their next move.
"Ballademager must have threatened him pretty strongly," Martha observed. "So how are we going to persuade him to help us?"
"We need to work out what hold Ballademager has on him - has he threatened Farmer's family, for instance - and then work out how to counter the threat," the Doctor answered.
"Ms Cavallo's information didn't mention his family, just his professional life."
He nodded, setting down his empty coffee mug. "So let's look him up, shall we?"
She nodded and they moved from the sofa where they'd been drinking their coffee to one of the computers in the corner. The Doctor's fingers danced across the keyboard as he searched for the information they needed, and Martha picked up a newssheet; she was slightly startled to discover it wasn't paper, as she'd initially supposed, but a paperthin computer screen.
The Time Lord's soft 'oh' of dismay drew her attention back to him and she set the newssheet aside.
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
"Dr Farmer's a widower with a six year old daughter. His wife died 18 months ago." He scowled. "My guess is that Ballademager has threatened to harm his daughter and that's why he wouldn't talk to us."
Martha put a hand on his arm as his hand clenched into a fist; she looked at the photo of the little, red-haired girl which accompanied the news report. "She's pretty," she observed. "So what do we do now?"
"We need to offer them both protective custody, in return for Farmer's testimony," the Doctor answered.
"So we need to go to the police before we've got any actual proof, and somehow persuade them to not only listen to us, but also get them to offer protection to Farmer and his daughter despite our lack of proof."
He shook his head. "That will take too long, and I'd sooner not go to the authorities without Farmer's evidence. So, Martha Jones, I suggest we do this another way." He got to his feet, pocketing his glasses, and moving away from the computer. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" she asked, following him back out onto the street.
He strode along, his coat tails flapping, and Martha was forced to hurry to keep up until he realised that his longer legs were leaving her behind.
"We're going back to the TARDIS," he said quietly, catching hold of her hand so that they could keep pace.
"Then what?" She was puzzled as to the Doctor's intentions until an idea suddenly struck her. "Hang on. Are you planning what I think you're planning?"
He raised a quizzical eyebrow as they turned the corner into the alley where the TARDIS stood. "What do you think I'm planning?"
"You're going to pick them up and take them somewhere in the TARDIS," she suggested as they Doctor unlocked the door of the ship.
He grinned as he ushered her inside, his hand on her back. "I always knew you were a smart woman, Dr Jones."
"This should be interesting," she observed as she settled on the Captain's chair. "Dr Farmer's already terrified of us getting him into trouble with Ballademager, and now you're going to materialise your alien time-and-spaceship in his vicinity."
"Don't worry about it, Martha," he soothed.
She shook her head, reflecting it was hard not to worry when you knew what resulted from being around the Doctor.
The TARDIS slid through Time and Space, arriving in the small back garden of Farmer's house on the outskirts of Darvel around 9pm.
The Doctor let them into the house, where they found the astonished Dr Farmer in his sitting room, just lifting a book down from the bookshelf.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded furiously, his voice low. "How did you get in?"
"Please, Dr Farmer, we need your help," Martha said, moving towards him. "We know you're scared of Ballademager and no doubt he's threatened to hurt your daughter if you ever tell anyone about what you did, but we can protect you both if you'll trust us and help us."
"How?" asked Farmer, his fury subsiding a little in response to Martha's calm tone.
"May we sit down and explain?" she asked.
He nodded, so they settled down: the two time travellers on the sofa, while the scientist sat in an armchair.
The Doctor explained, as succinctly as possible, his plan to offer protection to Farmer and his daughter, then outlined what information they needed from him to ensure that Ballademager would be arrested, charged and tried.
"Show me this time and space machine, then I'll help you," Farmer said.
"Very well," agreed the Doctor.
An hour later the TARDIS dematerialised from Farmer's back garden and took them into the Vortex. While Emily slept in a corner of a spare bedroom, Farmer explained, hesitantly at first, what he'd done to make the virus so dangerous. The Doctor then asked him to make a written statement that they could give to the authorities, and after some initial reluctance, he also agreed that the Doctor could record an interview between himself and Martha.
After that, the Doctor took them to Alba Rodd, on the far side of Derillium, where Farmer and his daughter were soon settled into an anonymous hotel under false names to keep them safe. To everyone's relief, Emily thought it was a great adventure and so long as she had her daddy and Banjo, her stuffed giraffe, she seemed quite happy.
* * * * * *
It took several days, and much back and forth, before Ballademager was arrested and charged, and Martha was surprised that the Doctor didn't seem to mind waiting around so that they could testify. Not that they spent all their time stuck in interview rooms and offices. The first afternoon, while the Chief of Police and two lawyers were going through everything they had brought in, the Doctor rented an electric car and drove them out onto the plain outside Darvel for a picnic at the Singing Towers. These were 60 metres tall and resembled giant piccolos which had been designed so that they 'sang', the song varying according to the strength and direction of the wind.
The Doctor had booked a private picnic booth for him and Martha; these were created to provide a comfortable picnic spot no matter what the weather, and allowed a good view of the Towers and the plain on which they stood.
While they ate, they talked about general things, then they moved from the picnic table and settled, side by side, on the large recliner near the window, looking out at the view.
"Tell me about what you've been doing this last year," Martha suggested.
Initially he only talked of the wonderful places he'd been, and the balls and dinners he'd attended, but she wasn't fooled into thinking it had been all fun and games. She'd had a year of listening to the things that Tish and her parents didn't say about their year aboard the Valiant, and she knew quite well from her own time travelling with the Doctor that it was never all grand dinners and fancy balls.
She slid her right arm around his shoulders, then took his left hand in hers. "Tell me about the rest," she invited softly.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Of course. I'm your Doctor, aren't I?"
"True." He settled himself more comfortably, then told her about the people he hadn't been able to save: Astrid, and all the others who'd died on the Titanic spaceship from Sto; the boy Pietro and his dog Sammi; and so many others. He remembered all their names, and where, when and how they'd died. She listened intently to his recital with a growing sense that he felt personally responsible for each one: something she'd suspected several times before.
When he'd finished, they sat silent for several minutes, Martha clasping his hand tightly in an attempt to anchor him.
"I'm sorry so many people died," she said softly. "You've had a pretty bad year."
"It wasn't as bad as that one you went through, though," he told her.
"Maybe not, although that's not really the point." She was thoughtful for a few moments. "Why didn't you find another companion, someone to share this with?"
He looked away, and she almost thought he was embarrassed. "I didn't want to hurt anyone else, the way I hurt you," he answered. "When you left, although I wasn't very surprised, I wasn't ready for you to go. But then I agreed to let Astrid come with me, because her wonder and excitement reminded me of you, standing on the Moon and looking at the Earth. And then she died, and I got worried, so when Mr Copper asked to come with me, I turned him down. Far safer for him to settle on Earth than to go gallivanting off with me."
She pulled back to look at his face. "You don't think, after all he'd just experienced, that he already knew that travelling with you was no picnic?" she asked gently. She reached up to cup his cheek, stroking her thumb over his cheekbone.
"Probably. But I still thought it best to turn him down."
She shook her head, but didn't argue with him; there was no point when it was all in the past now. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek; when he pulled back a little and turned his head to kiss her lips, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Martha remembered the kiss he'd given her on the Moon, and him saying it was nothing: as kisses went it had been a bit more than nothing, but this kiss was deeper and more intense, almost yearning.
The Doctor began rubbing her back in small circles through her t-shirt, and she responded by stroking the nape of his neck, which brought forth a quiet groan.
"Oh, you like that, do you?" she asked in a teasing tone. "I suppose I should have guessed from the number of times you've done it to me."
He lifted her into his lap and nuzzled the side of her neck. "Is this okay?" he asked.
"If it wasn't, I'd have already said so," she answered, then kissed him again. She could feel him stiffening and shifted a little in his lap, making him growl.
The next moment the sound of a mobile phone disturbed them, and the Doctor groaned in frustration. He dug in his pockets until he found the phone Martha had given him, and fished it out.
"Hello?" He listened for a few moments. "All right, we'll be there within the hour."
"Let me guess; we're wanted back in town?" Martha asked.
He nodded. "Some people clearly have no sense of timing," he grumbled.
She climbed off his lap. "Look at it this way," she said, grinning, "he could have rung five minutes from now."
He looked horrified and she giggled, then leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "We can finish this later."
"Finish?" he repeated. "I hadn't even started."
* * * * * *
They returned to town and went to see Mr Lisbon, and then the Doctor booked them into a hotel as Lisbon had warned them it might be a few more days before they had everything in place to arrest Ballademager. They had dinner in a local restaurant, and Martha tried hard not to think about what lay ahead, if the Doctor did intend to finish what they'd started earlier.
The waiter had just poured their wine when the Time Lord observed in conversational tones, "You know, of course, that I can withstand very low temperatures for a short period?"
She frowned, her wine glass half way to her lips, then gave him a questioning look. "I remember," she answered. She didn't think she'd ever forget attempting to freeze the sun-creature out of his system aboard the SS Pentallian, and Captain McDonnell's horrified reaction.
"I don't know if I've ever mentioned that my core body temperature is significantly lower than yours?" When she shook her head, swallowing the mouthful of wine, he nodded. "Yes, it's only 16°C in Gallifreyans."
"That is low," Martha commented, wondering why he was suddenly telling her this. Her previous attempts to find out more about how Gallifreyans differed from humans, besides having two hearts and a respiratory bypass system, had always been politely rebuffed.
"And did you know that a Time Lord has more than the usual five senses, although our five senses are considerably more sensitive than yours. For example, I can perform a chemical analysis by taste alone."
"That explains the licking, then," she commented, then smirked when he seemed to blush slightly, and she wondered if he had thought she hadn't noticed; she couldn't know that he was thinking about how she would taste, or that he was probably even more nervous about what lay ahead than she was.
"I know your sense of smell is better than mine," she offered. "I remember you smelling that bit of the Dalek mutant we found in the tunnels."
He smiled at her, then watched as the waiter set down their avocado soup starters. "What else have you noticed?" asked the Doctor once the waiter had gone.
"You've got two more ribs than a human."
He raised an eyebrow at her, his soup spoon arrested between the bowl and his mouth. "You've been counting my ribs?"
She chuckled and he felt his loins stir at the sound. "Sort of. I noticed it when you absorbed that Röntgen radiation in the hospital - your whole skeleton was illuminated."
"And you noticed I had two extra ribs?" He sounded quite incredulous.
She ducked her head, clearly embarrassed. "Yes."
The Doctor shook his head, but when she glanced up again, she could see he was pleased.
"You mentioned, earlier, about having more than the usual five senses," she commented. He nodded. "Are they senses specific to you being a Time Lord?"
He smiled. "Oh yes. I have extraordinary reflexes and precision timing. There was a time, in my third incarnation, when the Master had set up a Volataliser, something that a race called the Xanthoids use for mining operations. He'd positioned it so that if it fell it would destroy the Deep Space Research Centre and about a square mile of the surrounding countryside. The door of the room it was in opened outwards, and the tension on the twine that linked the Volataliser to the door was such that the slightest touch on the door would cause the cylinder to fall." He paused and took a sip of wine.
"But you dealt with it?" Martha said, in a tone that implied she knew he'd say yes.
He nodded. "I could have tried to untie the twine from the door handle, but the door was open only a tiny crack and I'd never have got my fingers through to do it. I considered climbing onto the roof of the cabin and getting in through the skylight, but it was likely that the vibrations I would cause would make the Volataliser fall. So I calculated the tension of the twine, the angle velocities, and the effects of gravity on the estimated weight of the device. Then I yanked the door open and catapulted myself head first into the cabin, jerking the device from its position and making it fly towards me, and I dived and caught it before it fell."
"Oof!" She looked sympathetic and he smiled.
"I stopped the Master, and that was the main thing."
He continued to discourse about Gallifreyan physiology and how it differed from humans' throughout dinner, but it wasn't until they were drinking coffee at the end of the meal that he revealed why he'd been so informative.
"Can I ask you something?" Martha asked. He nodded. "Why have you told me all this? Not that I'm not interested, because obviously I am. But whenever I've asked you about this kind of thing before, you've brushed me off and changed the subject."
He blushed faintly again and she thought how unusual that was for him. "I've told you all this because I wanted you to understand the differences between a human and a Gallifreyan, because although we're biologically compatible, we're not genetically compatible."
He watched her as she took that in and then realised the implication of his words. "You mean," she asked in a quiet voice, "we can have sex, but you can't get me pregnant?"
"Yes."
She nodded her understanding. "Thank you for telling me." She reached across the corner of the table and took his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles and sending a shiver through him.
He quickly signalled to the waiter that he wanted to pay the bill. They walked back to the hotel in silence, both of them busy with their thoughts. A couple of times the Doctor glanced down at Martha's profile, opening his mouth to speak, then realised he didn't know what to say. Once he reached out to take her hand, but then pulled his back before she noticed.
Once back in their room, the Doctor took his time in taking off his coat and loosening his tie until Martha grabbed his hand and gently pulled him to her, rubbing his back underneath his suit jacket. He ducked his head and kissed her rather tentatively until she began stroking him through his trousers, at which point he became rather less hesitant. They undressed each other slowly, pausing for kisses and caresses, until he caught hold of her wrist and tugged her over to the bed, pulling her down beside him, then moving over her.
"Ready?" he asked, his gaze and tone intense.
"No," she answered.
He quickly straightened up, his knees either side of her legs. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.
She sat up and kissed him quickly. "Lie down," she instructed. He gave her a puzzled look and she pushed at his shoulder. "Go on, lie down."
The Doctor lay down and Martha immediately straddled his body, and he smirked. "Oh, so you like to be on top, do you?"
"Sometimes," she answered, with a smirk of her own. "This time, definitely. I want to watch your face." She leaned forward so that her breasts brushed against his chest, and whispered in his ear. "I want to see you come."
He blushed a third time and she grinned, then eased his erection inside her heat, moaning softly as she sank down onto him. She felt that he'd made himself vulnerable tonight, telling her so much about himself, and that gave her more confidence than she might otherwise have felt to do things her way, rather than his.
"Hell's teeth!" he couldn't help exclaiming when Martha circled her hips, and he moaned when she lifted herself up until he almost slipped out, then sank back down again.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"I don't think I'll ever be ready for this," he answered, then bucked upwards to encourage her to move again.
She grinned and began to move at a steady pace, the Doctor's hands resting on her hips while she unselfconsciously stroked her breasts and belly. She watched him intently throughout, murmuring encouragement when he got close to his climax, then moaning when his orgasm triggered hers.
They made love three times during the course of the evening, then slept, sated, their arms and legs in a tangle of brown and white limbs.
The Doctor woke Martha a few hours later with a series of kisses that began at her mouth and throat, and moved south as she surfaced from sleep. By the time she was opening her eyes and looking down her body at him, he was kissing and licking her inner thighs. He wished her a good morning, but her reply was only a breathy moan as he pushed his tongue inside her.
* * * * * *
Five days later, they left Derillium, confident that the case against Ballademager was as watertight as it could be.
"Now then, Dr Jones, where am I taking you? Home, or somewhere else?" The Doctor looked over at Martha as she sat on the Captain's chair, watching him with a rather teasing smile.
"Let's take the scenic route," she suggested. "I'm in no rush to get back."
He grinned wolfishly, then began manically dancing about the console, preparing to take them somewhere else. She watched, as fascinated as ever by the sight, but also privately enjoying the view when he reached one long leg across the console to hit a switch with his foot; she particularly enjoyed the way his trousers pulled tightly across his bum.
"Dr Jones, are you staring at me?" he asked without turning round.
"I am." She grinned when he did turn around to look at her, then shook his head before letting off the handbrake. "So, where are we going?" she asked as he sauntered over to join her.
"The Blue Desert of Indigo 3. The view there is absolutely beautiful and the dunes look rather like a slow blue sea. Even the moons are blue and the vision of them turning from azure into lavender and then drifting to sapphire is reputed to be very soothing. The locals have 83 different words for the colour blue, which is a bit of a coincidence really, since a torrential storm floods the desert every 83 years, and a few days after that the whole region is carpeted with ultra-marine flowers. People travel from light years around just to see it."
"It sounds gorgeous," Martha said, grinning at his enthusiasm.
"Well we shall find out in a couple of hours." He stood in front of her, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "So, what do you want to do in the meanwhile?" His tone was casual, but he couldn't hide the desire in his eyes.
"I thought I'd go and have a nap. For some reason I haven't had much sleep the last three nights," she answered, poker-faced.
"Oh." He looked so disappointed that Martha had to fight to keep from laughing at him, but something must have shown in her expression because he suddenly said, "Oh you!" and pulled her to her feet and into his arms.
"You were having me on," he said, kissing her fiercely.
"Me?" she gasped.
"Yes you, minx!" he growled, then nipped at her bottom lip as he slid his hands down her back to squeeze her bottom, incidentally pressing her body more tightly against his so that she could feel his growing arousal.
She responded by sliding a hand between them to stroke him, grinning when he gasped and started.
The next moment the Doctor's phone rang and he groaned in disbelief. "I swear I'm going to break that thing," he growled.
Martha couldn't help laughing, and he scowled a little before going across to the TARDIS console to take the phone from the slot where he'd put it.
"Dr John Smith." He listened intently, his expression darkening to anger, and she slid off the chair and crossed to his side.
"Thank you for letting me know, Mr Lisbon." He snapped the phone shut and slid an arm around her shoulders.
"Let me, guess," she said, "Ballademager's not going to prison?"
"No," the Doctor answered, his voice hard. "Apparently he was sprung, by known associates, from the van taking him from the court to the prison, and he's fled off the planet. Lisbon says Ballademager's got holdings all over the place. Dammit!"
"Isn't there some way we can track him?" Martha asked.
The Doctor shook his head, looking frustrated. "Not really. If he'd been aboard the TARDIS, I could have used her proximity detector, but without that it could take weeks or even longer. Lisbon said he didn't know exactly how many businesses Ballademager has off-planet, but he thought it was more than a dozen. And it's quite possible that he doesn't even have all of them under his real name."
She put her arms around him and kissed him. "Then lets forget him," she said. "We did the best we could; it's not up to us to track him down." She stroked the nape of his neck. "Come to bed."
He smiled down at her. "All right, Dr Jones. I accept your prescription."
Martha grinned and allowed him to lead her out of the Control Room and down the corridors to his bedroom.
* * * * * *
Two hours later the TARDIS landed with her customary bump, and they stepped out of the ship to find a tall building at their backs.
"This is the Sanctuary of Imperfect Symmetry," the Doctor told Martha.
"Imperfect Symmetry?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"Look at the dunes," he said.
She frowned, but turned her head and looked out across the desert. As she looked she quickly noticed that all the dunes were exactly the same size and shape, right out to the distant horizon. The Doctor explained that there were places in the Universe which come incredibly close to perfection.
"That’s why the people who built the Sanctuary are here. They believe that too much perfection is dangerous, so they built the Sanctuary of Imperfect Symmetry, a place of pilgrimage, devotion and deliberate disparity. If you were to walk out into those dunes, you’d never find your way back, and that makes the Sanctuary extremely isolated as hardly anyone ever comes here outside of the storm season."
Martha couldn't help shivering a little at the thought of being that isolated, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.
"Come on," he said, "let's go inside. We'll get a better view from the rooftop observatory."
"Have you been here before then?" she asked, as he led her around the corner of the building towards the doors.
"In my past, but their future," he answered. "It was - unpleasant."
Knowing the Doctor as well as she did, she suspected this was an understatement, but she refrained from asking him for details. Instead she looked around at their fellow visitors, noticing that there were blue-faced monks and nuns moving around with small groups of people in tow. The visitors, she saw, were a disparate lot: some were humanoid, but quite a few others were not.
They approached the reception desk and spoke to one of the blue-faced nuns as the Doctor dropped some coins into a collection box in front of her.
"May I take my companion straight up to the observatory?"
"You know the way?" asked the nun, surprised.
He nodded. "I've been here before." He smiled at her bafflement, then led Martha across the hallway and up the stairs.
"You're such a tease, sometimes," she observed.
He glanced down at her in mock-outrage. "Me, a tease?"
"Yes you," she answered, squeezing his hand. "Don't pretend you're not. Our first meeting was full of teasing."
"Yet you still came with me."
She snorted. "Of course I did. I'm only human, after all. How was I supposed to resist the cute guy who was teasing me and taking his clothes off at me in the street?"
"Cute?" he asked.
"Stop fishing for compliments," Martha said, laughing when he pouted at her.
Ten minutes of steady climbing brought them to the fourth floor of the Sanctuary, and the rooftop observatory that had been built there for visitors' enjoyment.
"Wow!" Martha gasped in awe at the sight of the vivid, ultramarine flowers that carpeted the desert.
"Like it?" the Doctor asked quietly.
"Are you kidding? It's gorgeous." She stood up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for bringing me here."
"You're very welcome, Dr Jones." He wrapped an arm around her and they stood looking at the view for a while, simply drinking in the peace and quiet.
Some time later, they wandered around the observatory, looking at the small displays that were set up, then they headed back down into the Sanctuary and explored, the Doctor leading the way and pointing out things here and there. After a couple of hours Martha was feeling a little weary, so he suggested they have a meal in the restaurant before they headed back to the TARDIS.
"What do you fancy?" he asked her as they looked at the menu.
"The fish dish sounds nice, and the fruit sorbet," she answered.
"All right." He nodded to a waitress and gave their order, requesting some wine to go with the meal.
"I forgot to ask you earlier; is your mum okay about you not rushing straight back?" he asked shortly after the wine was brought to their table.
"Yeah. She said I'd earned a holiday after all the studying and stuff that I've been doing."
"And she's quite right." He fiddled with his fork. "Did you, uh - "
"Tell her about us?" Martha asked when he paused. He nodded. "No. I'm a grown woman; she doesn't need to know everything about my private life. I'll probably tell her eventually, but I'd rather have that conversation face to face."
"You're braver than I am," he observed.
"Oi, don't be cheeky."
He looked horrified. "No, no, no," he said, waving his hands frantically, "I only meant - " Then he caught sight of the mirth sparkling in her eyes. "Oh you! I'm going to get you for that, later."
Martha poked her tongue out at him, and he immediately leaned across the corner of the table to kiss her.
"Doctor!" she whispered, pulling away.
"What?" he asked.
"This is a Sanctuary," she reminded him.
He pouted, and Martha wondered if he did that because he knew she found it hard to resist the sight of his bottom lip quivering.
They made general conversation throughout their meal, but she was aware of every glance he gave her and of the way his arm or his knee brushed against hers in the crowded restaurant: the heat in his expression made her feel warm and she was aware of desire beginning to coil in her belly and groin.
By the time they'd finished eating Martha was almost ready to drag the Doctor back to the TARDIS by his collar, but she settled for walking back sedately. The moment they were inside the ship, though, she grabbed his arm and pushed him back against the door, pressing her body against his and growling when she felt his hardness on her thigh.
"You're a bloody tease," she told him before kissing him fiercely.
He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her up the ramp towards the middle of the room.
"Thought you liked being teased?" he asked as he set her down on the edge of the console, then slid his hands a little way up her legs, rucking up her dress.
"Doesn't mean I can't tell you off for it," she answered, wrapping her legs around his thighs and pulling him closer.
He smirked and slid his hands higher, then manoeuvred her out of her thong. He began kissing her and she moaned into his mouth when he stroked her bare skin with his fingertips.
"Are we doing this here?" she asked, pulling her mouth from his reluctantly.
"Don't you want to?" the Doctor asked, then grinned when he saw her blushing. "I thought so. Tell the truth; you've been dying for me to shag you here, haven't you?"
She nodded, biting her bottom lip. "If the TARDIS won't mind, that is."
He leaned forward, pressing his body against hers. "She'll love it," he assured her, then ducked his head to nip at her earlobe.
Martha groaned, then reached out and unfastened his trousers, shoving them down off his skinny hips, before she clasped his length and guided it towards her core. He grasped her bottom and pulled her body towards his, thrusting forwards at the same time; they both gasped a little as he slipped inside her. Then she wrapped her legs around his body and leaned back, holding the edges of the console to keep herself steady as she looked up into his face. She still hadn't tired of watching him as he climaxed: it gave her a small thrill to see him vulnerable and to know that she was responsible for his loss of control.
"Shall I tell you something?" he asked.
She raised her eyebrows. "What?"
"When we were in the restaurant I wanted to slide under the table, put my head between your legs and lick you until you screamed."
Martha groaned. "It's just as well you didn't," she answered, gasping as his thrusts picked up speed.
"One day I'll take you to one of the pleasure planets, where that sort of behaviour is perfectly acceptable."
"Oooh!" Her response became a drawn-out groan of pleasure as she came, and then it was the Doctor's turn to groan as her muscles gripped him tight and sent him over the edge.
They leaned against each other, breathing heavily and feeling slightly dazed.
"I could almost swear I felt the TARDIS in my head then," Martha observed. "Sort of golden sparks."
"You probably did," he answered, nuzzling her neck. "She enjoys our pleasure in each other."
"Mr Smith, are you telling me your ship is as kinky as you are?" she asked with a giggle.
"Well we are closely linked." He grinned at her look of awe, then bent his head to kiss her again.
After several minutes of intense kissing he finally pulled away, allowing himself to slip out of her, then pulled up his trousers.
"Come on. Let's take this to the bedroom; we'll be more comfortable there."
She slipped down off the edge of the console and picked up her knickers, then took his hand and let him lead her through the corridors to their room. She had a funny feeling it was going to be some time before she got to sleep again tonight.
Title: Nativitas (2/4)
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Ten, OCs
Rating: NC-17
Warning: This is going to be a dark fic.
Spoilers: Season 3
Summary: A year after she walked out, Martha boards the TARDIS again to travel with the Doctor.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish that I did own it!
Author Notes: This fic is set about a year after "The Last of the Time Lords" and is essentially AU to Season 4. This chapter borrows some elements from the BFA: "The Skull of Sobek" but you don't need to have heard that to understand this. Thanks to radiantbaby for a much needed plot suggestion at the right moment!
Special thanks goes to my beta fourzoas together with concordiaadieu, ebbyzone, jadekirk and radiantbaby. The five of them acted as my cheering section, offering ideas, concrit and support during the writing of this story. It's a lot better thanks to them. Any remaining infelicities are my own.
Part 1
~~~~~~
"So, where are we heading?" asked Martha, pulling up the zip on her jacket, then shoving her hands into her pockets; it was still winter in Darvel, and the air had a sharp bite to it. The snow in the alley where the TARDIS had landed had a blue tinge to it, she noticed, but the alley itself seemed much like many others she'd been in.
"We're going to the government offices," the Doctor answered, his eyes scanning their surroundings even as he pulled a small pair of leather gloves from his coat pocket and passed them over to her. "We're looking for one Ejer Ballademager."
"And who's he, when he's at home?" she asked, smiling in gratitude as she accepted the gloves and slid them on; it still amazed her that he managed to carry so much in his pockets without it ever being obvious.
"He's the man who's been trying to buy the Space Station dirt cheap for the last four months, and has been rather vocal in criticising the government for not selling it to him."
"So, you reckon he might be responsible for the virus being genetically modified and introduced onto the Space Station?" Martha asked, slipping her arm through his when he crooked his elbow at her.
"I do indeed," the Doctor responded, his tone crisp and hard. "So I think we should go and see what dirt we can dig up on him, and see if we can find some proof with which we can stop him doing the same thing again."
He led her down the alley toward the main road, where they found a tram stop. She looked around, noting that the people looked humanoid, and that there seemed to be an even mix of brown-skinned and white-skinned people passing them, which meant that neither she nor the Doctor stood out from the locals, which was useful. If they were meant to be sleuthing, it was probably best that they blended in as much as possible at the outset.
They only had to wait a few minutes for a tram to appear.
"Quicker than walking," the Doctor said as they settled into a seat in the middle of the tram.
"And means we can save our energy in case there's any running to be done later," she observed quietly.
"One of the many things I like about you, Martha Jones, is your practical nature." He slid an arm around her shoulders and smiled, unseen, when she leaned into his side.
"So, what do we know about this Ejer Balladwhosit?"
"Ballademager," he supplied. "And not a great deal. He's very rich and, like many rich men, somewhat reclusive. His name, translated literally, means Master Troublemaker, which I find a little worrying."
"Huh, he doesn't sound very pleasant," Martha observed.
"He's not, as far as I can tell. There were some reports on the Skynet - that's Derillium's equivalent of the internet - of him being in trouble with the local law enforcement people, but no one's ever been able to pin anything on him. Witnesses have a nasty habit of either disappearing or of suddenly withdrawing their complaints."
"They're bought off?" she asked.
"Or threatened so badly they're too scared to testify."
"The more I hear about him, the less I like him."
"I know." The tram came to a stop. "We're here."
They got off the tram and the Doctor took Martha's hand to lead her through the traffic that was streaming in both directions, and across the road to a grey, four-storey building.
"We didn't get asked for a ticket," she observed as the realisation hit her.
"No, public transport's free across the whole of Darvel, to encourage people to use it, rather than clogging up the streets with private transport."
"Huh, they should try that in London." She looked up at the imposing façade of the building before them: a flight of wide steps flanked on either side by pillars, with intricate patterns carved into them, led up to double doors that were even taller than the Time Lord.
"Shall we?" asked the Doctor.
"Yep."
They hurried up the steps and into the spacious, well-lit reception area where a concierge in a smart grey and blue uniform immediately approached them and offered her assistance. A few moments later they were seated side by side at two computer terminals in a large room full of them.
The Doctor showed Martha which of the information portals would be most relevant for their search for information, then handed her a slip of paper.
"That's the correct spelling of our man's name," he told her quietly, and she gave him a nod.
They spent a frustrating hour trying to find more than a few tidbits of information on Ejer Ballademager, and the Doctor was beginning to think they would never find anything more substantial when Martha gave a quiet gasp and straightened in her chair.
"Have you found something?" he asked in a low voice.
"Maybe." She waited while he scooted his chair closer, then pointed to the screen which showed details of the divorce of Ejer Ballademager from one Buio Cavallo.
"An ex-wife has potential, I think," muttered the Doctor.
"That's what I was thinking," she agreed.
"Let's try looking her up, and hope that she's not as reclusive as her ex."
Martha nodded and copied the name from the document she was looking at, pasted it into the search engine of the database she'd been using, and then hit 'search'.
"Bingo!" he exclaimed quietly when a screenful of data was displayed. He leaned across to peer at the screen, resting his arm along the back of Martha's chair so he could keep his balance. As they read through the various pages of information, discovering that Buio Cavallo was a successful business woman in her own right, he moved his arm and began lightly stroking the nape of Martha's neck, and toying with the ends of her spiky hairdo.
She glanced sideways at him a couple of times, but his attention seemed wholly focused on the screen, and she decided that he probably wasn't even aware of what he was doing. She remembered that he used to do something similar while they sat watching TV together in 1969, and since it was both soothing and pleasant, she decided that she wasn't going to object.
"This looks like her most recent address," the Doctor said, pointing at the top of the screen. "Shall we go and pay Ms Cavallo a visit?"
Martha nodded. "It wouldn't hurt."
* * * * * *
They took another tram to Ms Cavallo's office, and the Doctor eventually managed to persuade her very haughty PA that Ms Cavallo would want to spare them at least five minutes of her time to hear them out.
"It can only be five minutes," the PA said. "Ms Cavallo's time is very precious and - "
"Time is money, yes, yes." The Doctor just managed not to sneer at him for using such a trite and inaccurate comment. As the PA went away, leaving them in a well-appointed but rather bland waiting room, the Time Lord felt Martha squeeze his arm, and he raised his eyebrows at her.
"What is it?" he asked quietly.
"He may be an oily, obnoxious creep, but it won't help us if you upset him and we get thrown out before we can speak to Ms Cavallo," she answered softly.
He opened his mouth to retort that he wasn't about to lose his temper, then closed it again as he realised that was a lie. He shifted his arm so he could take hold of her hand and ducked his head to give her a quick kiss on the lips.
Martha felt startled by the Doctor's quicksilver change of mood; she'd thought she had got used to it, but now she realised that she'd forgotten just how quickly his mood could change. She was also startled by the kiss; she wondered, yet again, what he'd been through during the year that he'd been alone, and resolved to ask him at the earliest opportunity.
At Martha's words the Doctor's mind had involuntarily leapt back to an occasion when he'd mistakenly allowed his anger to get the better of him, and she hadn't been there to stop him.
Nine months ago
The Doctor stared in disbelief at the monitor in front of him where the encampment of Hoolings had just disappeared, completely vaporised. He looked up, and the Grooling Captain beside him flinched visibly at the cold, dark expression in the Time Lord's eyes.
"You lied to me," the Doctor said, visibly struggling with his temper.
"Of course we lied," grated the Captain, obviously hoping that bluster would work in his favour. "If we had told you that the device was a weapon to kill our enemies, not a transmat to send supplies to the encampment, you wouldn't have fixed it."
The Doctor pushed back his chair and stood up, and the Captain flinched again as the Time Lord towered over him.
"I came here in answer to your distress signal," he spoke quietly, but his tone was full of menace, "and you told me that the people in that encampment were sick and in need of food and medical supplies. You begged me to fix that device for you, insisting that it was the only way to help them before they died. You lied to me. You betrayed my trust. You made me kill 125 innocent people."
He grabbed the Captain and hauled him up off his feet so that they were eye to eye. "I will make you pay for that," he snarled.
The Grooling shuddered and tried to squirm out of the Doctor's grasp. "You can't," he gasped.
"Oh yes I can," the Time Lord answered, his expression grim. "Believe me, I can." He dropped the Captain onto his feet carelessly so that the Grooling staggered. Then he bent back down to the weapon and began fiddling with it.
"What are you doing?" croaked the Captain, massaging his throat. He was more than a little alarmed that the Doctor had picked him up so easily.
"Disabling this so it can't be used again."
"You can't!" protested the Grooling.
"I'm getting very tired of hearing you say that to me," growled the Time Lord without looking up.
The Captain glowered unseen, then hurried out of the room.
The Doctor glanced up as the door closed, and if the Grooling had seen his expression, he'd have known that leaving the Time Lord alone with the weapon was a bad idea.
Ten minutes later the sound of the TARDIS dematerialising faded away. The Captain congratulated himself on the fact that all his enemies had been destroyed, and that even if the Doctor had deactivated the weapon again, the Groolings certainly wouldn't need it any time soon since it would take the Hoolings months to build up sufficient numbers of warriors to attack again.
Two minutes later the weapon, which hadn't been deactivated at all, but set to overload, blew up, taking out the Captain and his own warrior encampment. It probably wouldn't have consoled him to know that within a few days the Doctor deeply regretted losing his temper in such a fashion.
* * * * * *
Now
"Doctor." Martha's softly insistent voice brought his attention back to his surroundings and he glanced down at her slightly anxious expression and apologised.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "I spoke to you twice and you didn't answer."
"I'm sorry," he repeated. He rubbed a hand over his face and she thought he looked weary. "I was just remembering a time when I needed someone to stop me and you weren't there."
She looked surprised, but was spared the necessity of finding an answer by the entrance of Ms Cavallo, who was an imposing woman at least as tall as the Doctor. She was dressed in a pale grey trouser suit, which contrasted with her dark skin, and her black hair was swept up into a severe bun: she looked both elegant and fashionable.
"Dr Smith and Dr Jones, I presume?" she asked in honeyed tones.
"Ms Cavallo." The Doctor bowed over her hand and Martha half expected him to kiss it.
She settled for a quick handshake and couldn't help noticing the way the other woman eyed her jeans and leather jacket, looking less than impressed.
"What can I do for you?" asked Ms Cavallo. "I gather from Mr Silk that you were quite insistent about seeing me."
The Doctor briefly explained about the viral outbreak on the Space Station and their suspicion that Ballademager was involved in the virus being engineered and used.
"We were hoping you might have some information that would help us to prove the case against him," he finished.
"If I help you, do you intend to let him know where you got your information?" she asked.
"That's entirely up to you," he answered. "If you prefer to remain out of the picture, we'll say nothing."
Martha had watched the other woman closely during the Doctor's explanation of the reason for their visit, and she felt she had shrewd idea of Ms Cavallo's mindset, so she wasn't surprised by the older woman's smile or her words.
"If you can get him arrested and charged, then you can tell him that I gladly gave you the information you needed," she answered. "Come through to my office."
They followed her into an office that looked more like a sumptuous drawing room than a workplace, and seated themselves, at her gesture, on a midnight blue leather sofa, while Ms Cavallo went to her desk beside the picture window and sat at the computer.
"I bet UNIT won't be giving me an office like this," Martha said softly.
The Doctor laughed quietly. "I doubt that even the Brigadier has an office as posh as this one."
Ms Cavallo rejoined them, a small object in her hand. To Martha it looked like an ordinary memory stick, and when the older woman held it out to her, she found that was essentially what it was.
"Take this and use it well," the other woman said. "Do your best to destroy him as he has tried, and too often succeeded, in destroying others through his selfishness and greed."
Martha nodded, startled by the vehemence in her tone.
"We'll do our best," the Doctor agreed, a grim expression on his face.
* * * * * *
Martha and the Doctor went from Ms Cavallo's office to a Skynet café, and from there to see a research scientist who'd briefly worked for Ballademager until moral objections to the work Ballademager had him doing made his position untenable. Ms Cavallo had provided them with details of half a dozen individuals like Dr Farmer, but he was their first port of call.
Farmer strenuously denied all involvement in Ballademager's plot, getting very angry with them for even suggesting such a thing, and threatening to call the police if they repeated their accusations to anyone else.
Martha could see that the Doctor didn't believe Farmer's protestations any more than she did: a year of being on the run had taught her how to read people, and she could tell he was terrified, and not just of them telling someone else.
Temporarily thwarted, they headed back to the Skynet café for coffee, over which they discussed their next move.
"Ballademager must have threatened him pretty strongly," Martha observed. "So how are we going to persuade him to help us?"
"We need to work out what hold Ballademager has on him - has he threatened Farmer's family, for instance - and then work out how to counter the threat," the Doctor answered.
"Ms Cavallo's information didn't mention his family, just his professional life."
He nodded, setting down his empty coffee mug. "So let's look him up, shall we?"
She nodded and they moved from the sofa where they'd been drinking their coffee to one of the computers in the corner. The Doctor's fingers danced across the keyboard as he searched for the information they needed, and Martha picked up a newssheet; she was slightly startled to discover it wasn't paper, as she'd initially supposed, but a paperthin computer screen.
The Time Lord's soft 'oh' of dismay drew her attention back to him and she set the newssheet aside.
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
"Dr Farmer's a widower with a six year old daughter. His wife died 18 months ago." He scowled. "My guess is that Ballademager has threatened to harm his daughter and that's why he wouldn't talk to us."
Martha put a hand on his arm as his hand clenched into a fist; she looked at the photo of the little, red-haired girl which accompanied the news report. "She's pretty," she observed. "So what do we do now?"
"We need to offer them both protective custody, in return for Farmer's testimony," the Doctor answered.
"So we need to go to the police before we've got any actual proof, and somehow persuade them to not only listen to us, but also get them to offer protection to Farmer and his daughter despite our lack of proof."
He shook his head. "That will take too long, and I'd sooner not go to the authorities without Farmer's evidence. So, Martha Jones, I suggest we do this another way." He got to his feet, pocketing his glasses, and moving away from the computer. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" she asked, following him back out onto the street.
He strode along, his coat tails flapping, and Martha was forced to hurry to keep up until he realised that his longer legs were leaving her behind.
"We're going back to the TARDIS," he said quietly, catching hold of her hand so that they could keep pace.
"Then what?" She was puzzled as to the Doctor's intentions until an idea suddenly struck her. "Hang on. Are you planning what I think you're planning?"
He raised a quizzical eyebrow as they turned the corner into the alley where the TARDIS stood. "What do you think I'm planning?"
"You're going to pick them up and take them somewhere in the TARDIS," she suggested as they Doctor unlocked the door of the ship.
He grinned as he ushered her inside, his hand on her back. "I always knew you were a smart woman, Dr Jones."
"This should be interesting," she observed as she settled on the Captain's chair. "Dr Farmer's already terrified of us getting him into trouble with Ballademager, and now you're going to materialise your alien time-and-spaceship in his vicinity."
"Don't worry about it, Martha," he soothed.
She shook her head, reflecting it was hard not to worry when you knew what resulted from being around the Doctor.
The TARDIS slid through Time and Space, arriving in the small back garden of Farmer's house on the outskirts of Darvel around 9pm.
The Doctor let them into the house, where they found the astonished Dr Farmer in his sitting room, just lifting a book down from the bookshelf.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded furiously, his voice low. "How did you get in?"
"Please, Dr Farmer, we need your help," Martha said, moving towards him. "We know you're scared of Ballademager and no doubt he's threatened to hurt your daughter if you ever tell anyone about what you did, but we can protect you both if you'll trust us and help us."
"How?" asked Farmer, his fury subsiding a little in response to Martha's calm tone.
"May we sit down and explain?" she asked.
He nodded, so they settled down: the two time travellers on the sofa, while the scientist sat in an armchair.
The Doctor explained, as succinctly as possible, his plan to offer protection to Farmer and his daughter, then outlined what information they needed from him to ensure that Ballademager would be arrested, charged and tried.
"Show me this time and space machine, then I'll help you," Farmer said.
"Very well," agreed the Doctor.
An hour later the TARDIS dematerialised from Farmer's back garden and took them into the Vortex. While Emily slept in a corner of a spare bedroom, Farmer explained, hesitantly at first, what he'd done to make the virus so dangerous. The Doctor then asked him to make a written statement that they could give to the authorities, and after some initial reluctance, he also agreed that the Doctor could record an interview between himself and Martha.
After that, the Doctor took them to Alba Rodd, on the far side of Derillium, where Farmer and his daughter were soon settled into an anonymous hotel under false names to keep them safe. To everyone's relief, Emily thought it was a great adventure and so long as she had her daddy and Banjo, her stuffed giraffe, she seemed quite happy.
* * * * * *
It took several days, and much back and forth, before Ballademager was arrested and charged, and Martha was surprised that the Doctor didn't seem to mind waiting around so that they could testify. Not that they spent all their time stuck in interview rooms and offices. The first afternoon, while the Chief of Police and two lawyers were going through everything they had brought in, the Doctor rented an electric car and drove them out onto the plain outside Darvel for a picnic at the Singing Towers. These were 60 metres tall and resembled giant piccolos which had been designed so that they 'sang', the song varying according to the strength and direction of the wind.
The Doctor had booked a private picnic booth for him and Martha; these were created to provide a comfortable picnic spot no matter what the weather, and allowed a good view of the Towers and the plain on which they stood.
While they ate, they talked about general things, then they moved from the picnic table and settled, side by side, on the large recliner near the window, looking out at the view.
"Tell me about what you've been doing this last year," Martha suggested.
Initially he only talked of the wonderful places he'd been, and the balls and dinners he'd attended, but she wasn't fooled into thinking it had been all fun and games. She'd had a year of listening to the things that Tish and her parents didn't say about their year aboard the Valiant, and she knew quite well from her own time travelling with the Doctor that it was never all grand dinners and fancy balls.
She slid her right arm around his shoulders, then took his left hand in hers. "Tell me about the rest," she invited softly.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Of course. I'm your Doctor, aren't I?"
"True." He settled himself more comfortably, then told her about the people he hadn't been able to save: Astrid, and all the others who'd died on the Titanic spaceship from Sto; the boy Pietro and his dog Sammi; and so many others. He remembered all their names, and where, when and how they'd died. She listened intently to his recital with a growing sense that he felt personally responsible for each one: something she'd suspected several times before.
When he'd finished, they sat silent for several minutes, Martha clasping his hand tightly in an attempt to anchor him.
"I'm sorry so many people died," she said softly. "You've had a pretty bad year."
"It wasn't as bad as that one you went through, though," he told her.
"Maybe not, although that's not really the point." She was thoughtful for a few moments. "Why didn't you find another companion, someone to share this with?"
He looked away, and she almost thought he was embarrassed. "I didn't want to hurt anyone else, the way I hurt you," he answered. "When you left, although I wasn't very surprised, I wasn't ready for you to go. But then I agreed to let Astrid come with me, because her wonder and excitement reminded me of you, standing on the Moon and looking at the Earth. And then she died, and I got worried, so when Mr Copper asked to come with me, I turned him down. Far safer for him to settle on Earth than to go gallivanting off with me."
She pulled back to look at his face. "You don't think, after all he'd just experienced, that he already knew that travelling with you was no picnic?" she asked gently. She reached up to cup his cheek, stroking her thumb over his cheekbone.
"Probably. But I still thought it best to turn him down."
She shook her head, but didn't argue with him; there was no point when it was all in the past now. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek; when he pulled back a little and turned his head to kiss her lips, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Martha remembered the kiss he'd given her on the Moon, and him saying it was nothing: as kisses went it had been a bit more than nothing, but this kiss was deeper and more intense, almost yearning.
The Doctor began rubbing her back in small circles through her t-shirt, and she responded by stroking the nape of his neck, which brought forth a quiet groan.
"Oh, you like that, do you?" she asked in a teasing tone. "I suppose I should have guessed from the number of times you've done it to me."
He lifted her into his lap and nuzzled the side of her neck. "Is this okay?" he asked.
"If it wasn't, I'd have already said so," she answered, then kissed him again. She could feel him stiffening and shifted a little in his lap, making him growl.
The next moment the sound of a mobile phone disturbed them, and the Doctor groaned in frustration. He dug in his pockets until he found the phone Martha had given him, and fished it out.
"Hello?" He listened for a few moments. "All right, we'll be there within the hour."
"Let me guess; we're wanted back in town?" Martha asked.
He nodded. "Some people clearly have no sense of timing," he grumbled.
She climbed off his lap. "Look at it this way," she said, grinning, "he could have rung five minutes from now."
He looked horrified and she giggled, then leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "We can finish this later."
"Finish?" he repeated. "I hadn't even started."
* * * * * *
They returned to town and went to see Mr Lisbon, and then the Doctor booked them into a hotel as Lisbon had warned them it might be a few more days before they had everything in place to arrest Ballademager. They had dinner in a local restaurant, and Martha tried hard not to think about what lay ahead, if the Doctor did intend to finish what they'd started earlier.
The waiter had just poured their wine when the Time Lord observed in conversational tones, "You know, of course, that I can withstand very low temperatures for a short period?"
She frowned, her wine glass half way to her lips, then gave him a questioning look. "I remember," she answered. She didn't think she'd ever forget attempting to freeze the sun-creature out of his system aboard the SS Pentallian, and Captain McDonnell's horrified reaction.
"I don't know if I've ever mentioned that my core body temperature is significantly lower than yours?" When she shook her head, swallowing the mouthful of wine, he nodded. "Yes, it's only 16°C in Gallifreyans."
"That is low," Martha commented, wondering why he was suddenly telling her this. Her previous attempts to find out more about how Gallifreyans differed from humans, besides having two hearts and a respiratory bypass system, had always been politely rebuffed.
"And did you know that a Time Lord has more than the usual five senses, although our five senses are considerably more sensitive than yours. For example, I can perform a chemical analysis by taste alone."
"That explains the licking, then," she commented, then smirked when he seemed to blush slightly, and she wondered if he had thought she hadn't noticed; she couldn't know that he was thinking about how she would taste, or that he was probably even more nervous about what lay ahead than she was.
"I know your sense of smell is better than mine," she offered. "I remember you smelling that bit of the Dalek mutant we found in the tunnels."
He smiled at her, then watched as the waiter set down their avocado soup starters. "What else have you noticed?" asked the Doctor once the waiter had gone.
"You've got two more ribs than a human."
He raised an eyebrow at her, his soup spoon arrested between the bowl and his mouth. "You've been counting my ribs?"
She chuckled and he felt his loins stir at the sound. "Sort of. I noticed it when you absorbed that Röntgen radiation in the hospital - your whole skeleton was illuminated."
"And you noticed I had two extra ribs?" He sounded quite incredulous.
She ducked her head, clearly embarrassed. "Yes."
The Doctor shook his head, but when she glanced up again, she could see he was pleased.
"You mentioned, earlier, about having more than the usual five senses," she commented. He nodded. "Are they senses specific to you being a Time Lord?"
He smiled. "Oh yes. I have extraordinary reflexes and precision timing. There was a time, in my third incarnation, when the Master had set up a Volataliser, something that a race called the Xanthoids use for mining operations. He'd positioned it so that if it fell it would destroy the Deep Space Research Centre and about a square mile of the surrounding countryside. The door of the room it was in opened outwards, and the tension on the twine that linked the Volataliser to the door was such that the slightest touch on the door would cause the cylinder to fall." He paused and took a sip of wine.
"But you dealt with it?" Martha said, in a tone that implied she knew he'd say yes.
He nodded. "I could have tried to untie the twine from the door handle, but the door was open only a tiny crack and I'd never have got my fingers through to do it. I considered climbing onto the roof of the cabin and getting in through the skylight, but it was likely that the vibrations I would cause would make the Volataliser fall. So I calculated the tension of the twine, the angle velocities, and the effects of gravity on the estimated weight of the device. Then I yanked the door open and catapulted myself head first into the cabin, jerking the device from its position and making it fly towards me, and I dived and caught it before it fell."
"Oof!" She looked sympathetic and he smiled.
"I stopped the Master, and that was the main thing."
He continued to discourse about Gallifreyan physiology and how it differed from humans' throughout dinner, but it wasn't until they were drinking coffee at the end of the meal that he revealed why he'd been so informative.
"Can I ask you something?" Martha asked. He nodded. "Why have you told me all this? Not that I'm not interested, because obviously I am. But whenever I've asked you about this kind of thing before, you've brushed me off and changed the subject."
He blushed faintly again and she thought how unusual that was for him. "I've told you all this because I wanted you to understand the differences between a human and a Gallifreyan, because although we're biologically compatible, we're not genetically compatible."
He watched her as she took that in and then realised the implication of his words. "You mean," she asked in a quiet voice, "we can have sex, but you can't get me pregnant?"
"Yes."
She nodded her understanding. "Thank you for telling me." She reached across the corner of the table and took his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles and sending a shiver through him.
He quickly signalled to the waiter that he wanted to pay the bill. They walked back to the hotel in silence, both of them busy with their thoughts. A couple of times the Doctor glanced down at Martha's profile, opening his mouth to speak, then realised he didn't know what to say. Once he reached out to take her hand, but then pulled his back before she noticed.
Once back in their room, the Doctor took his time in taking off his coat and loosening his tie until Martha grabbed his hand and gently pulled him to her, rubbing his back underneath his suit jacket. He ducked his head and kissed her rather tentatively until she began stroking him through his trousers, at which point he became rather less hesitant. They undressed each other slowly, pausing for kisses and caresses, until he caught hold of her wrist and tugged her over to the bed, pulling her down beside him, then moving over her.
"Ready?" he asked, his gaze and tone intense.
"No," she answered.
He quickly straightened up, his knees either side of her legs. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.
She sat up and kissed him quickly. "Lie down," she instructed. He gave her a puzzled look and she pushed at his shoulder. "Go on, lie down."
The Doctor lay down and Martha immediately straddled his body, and he smirked. "Oh, so you like to be on top, do you?"
"Sometimes," she answered, with a smirk of her own. "This time, definitely. I want to watch your face." She leaned forward so that her breasts brushed against his chest, and whispered in his ear. "I want to see you come."
He blushed a third time and she grinned, then eased his erection inside her heat, moaning softly as she sank down onto him. She felt that he'd made himself vulnerable tonight, telling her so much about himself, and that gave her more confidence than she might otherwise have felt to do things her way, rather than his.
"Hell's teeth!" he couldn't help exclaiming when Martha circled her hips, and he moaned when she lifted herself up until he almost slipped out, then sank back down again.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"I don't think I'll ever be ready for this," he answered, then bucked upwards to encourage her to move again.
She grinned and began to move at a steady pace, the Doctor's hands resting on her hips while she unselfconsciously stroked her breasts and belly. She watched him intently throughout, murmuring encouragement when he got close to his climax, then moaning when his orgasm triggered hers.
They made love three times during the course of the evening, then slept, sated, their arms and legs in a tangle of brown and white limbs.
The Doctor woke Martha a few hours later with a series of kisses that began at her mouth and throat, and moved south as she surfaced from sleep. By the time she was opening her eyes and looking down her body at him, he was kissing and licking her inner thighs. He wished her a good morning, but her reply was only a breathy moan as he pushed his tongue inside her.
* * * * * *
Five days later, they left Derillium, confident that the case against Ballademager was as watertight as it could be.
"Now then, Dr Jones, where am I taking you? Home, or somewhere else?" The Doctor looked over at Martha as she sat on the Captain's chair, watching him with a rather teasing smile.
"Let's take the scenic route," she suggested. "I'm in no rush to get back."
He grinned wolfishly, then began manically dancing about the console, preparing to take them somewhere else. She watched, as fascinated as ever by the sight, but also privately enjoying the view when he reached one long leg across the console to hit a switch with his foot; she particularly enjoyed the way his trousers pulled tightly across his bum.
"Dr Jones, are you staring at me?" he asked without turning round.
"I am." She grinned when he did turn around to look at her, then shook his head before letting off the handbrake. "So, where are we going?" she asked as he sauntered over to join her.
"The Blue Desert of Indigo 3. The view there is absolutely beautiful and the dunes look rather like a slow blue sea. Even the moons are blue and the vision of them turning from azure into lavender and then drifting to sapphire is reputed to be very soothing. The locals have 83 different words for the colour blue, which is a bit of a coincidence really, since a torrential storm floods the desert every 83 years, and a few days after that the whole region is carpeted with ultra-marine flowers. People travel from light years around just to see it."
"It sounds gorgeous," Martha said, grinning at his enthusiasm.
"Well we shall find out in a couple of hours." He stood in front of her, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "So, what do you want to do in the meanwhile?" His tone was casual, but he couldn't hide the desire in his eyes.
"I thought I'd go and have a nap. For some reason I haven't had much sleep the last three nights," she answered, poker-faced.
"Oh." He looked so disappointed that Martha had to fight to keep from laughing at him, but something must have shown in her expression because he suddenly said, "Oh you!" and pulled her to her feet and into his arms.
"You were having me on," he said, kissing her fiercely.
"Me?" she gasped.
"Yes you, minx!" he growled, then nipped at her bottom lip as he slid his hands down her back to squeeze her bottom, incidentally pressing her body more tightly against his so that she could feel his growing arousal.
She responded by sliding a hand between them to stroke him, grinning when he gasped and started.
The next moment the Doctor's phone rang and he groaned in disbelief. "I swear I'm going to break that thing," he growled.
Martha couldn't help laughing, and he scowled a little before going across to the TARDIS console to take the phone from the slot where he'd put it.
"Dr John Smith." He listened intently, his expression darkening to anger, and she slid off the chair and crossed to his side.
"Thank you for letting me know, Mr Lisbon." He snapped the phone shut and slid an arm around her shoulders.
"Let me, guess," she said, "Ballademager's not going to prison?"
"No," the Doctor answered, his voice hard. "Apparently he was sprung, by known associates, from the van taking him from the court to the prison, and he's fled off the planet. Lisbon says Ballademager's got holdings all over the place. Dammit!"
"Isn't there some way we can track him?" Martha asked.
The Doctor shook his head, looking frustrated. "Not really. If he'd been aboard the TARDIS, I could have used her proximity detector, but without that it could take weeks or even longer. Lisbon said he didn't know exactly how many businesses Ballademager has off-planet, but he thought it was more than a dozen. And it's quite possible that he doesn't even have all of them under his real name."
She put her arms around him and kissed him. "Then lets forget him," she said. "We did the best we could; it's not up to us to track him down." She stroked the nape of his neck. "Come to bed."
He smiled down at her. "All right, Dr Jones. I accept your prescription."
Martha grinned and allowed him to lead her out of the Control Room and down the corridors to his bedroom.
* * * * * *
Two hours later the TARDIS landed with her customary bump, and they stepped out of the ship to find a tall building at their backs.
"This is the Sanctuary of Imperfect Symmetry," the Doctor told Martha.
"Imperfect Symmetry?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"Look at the dunes," he said.
She frowned, but turned her head and looked out across the desert. As she looked she quickly noticed that all the dunes were exactly the same size and shape, right out to the distant horizon. The Doctor explained that there were places in the Universe which come incredibly close to perfection.
"That’s why the people who built the Sanctuary are here. They believe that too much perfection is dangerous, so they built the Sanctuary of Imperfect Symmetry, a place of pilgrimage, devotion and deliberate disparity. If you were to walk out into those dunes, you’d never find your way back, and that makes the Sanctuary extremely isolated as hardly anyone ever comes here outside of the storm season."
Martha couldn't help shivering a little at the thought of being that isolated, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.
"Come on," he said, "let's go inside. We'll get a better view from the rooftop observatory."
"Have you been here before then?" she asked, as he led her around the corner of the building towards the doors.
"In my past, but their future," he answered. "It was - unpleasant."
Knowing the Doctor as well as she did, she suspected this was an understatement, but she refrained from asking him for details. Instead she looked around at their fellow visitors, noticing that there were blue-faced monks and nuns moving around with small groups of people in tow. The visitors, she saw, were a disparate lot: some were humanoid, but quite a few others were not.
They approached the reception desk and spoke to one of the blue-faced nuns as the Doctor dropped some coins into a collection box in front of her.
"May I take my companion straight up to the observatory?"
"You know the way?" asked the nun, surprised.
He nodded. "I've been here before." He smiled at her bafflement, then led Martha across the hallway and up the stairs.
"You're such a tease, sometimes," she observed.
He glanced down at her in mock-outrage. "Me, a tease?"
"Yes you," she answered, squeezing his hand. "Don't pretend you're not. Our first meeting was full of teasing."
"Yet you still came with me."
She snorted. "Of course I did. I'm only human, after all. How was I supposed to resist the cute guy who was teasing me and taking his clothes off at me in the street?"
"Cute?" he asked.
"Stop fishing for compliments," Martha said, laughing when he pouted at her.
Ten minutes of steady climbing brought them to the fourth floor of the Sanctuary, and the rooftop observatory that had been built there for visitors' enjoyment.
"Wow!" Martha gasped in awe at the sight of the vivid, ultramarine flowers that carpeted the desert.
"Like it?" the Doctor asked quietly.
"Are you kidding? It's gorgeous." She stood up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for bringing me here."
"You're very welcome, Dr Jones." He wrapped an arm around her and they stood looking at the view for a while, simply drinking in the peace and quiet.
Some time later, they wandered around the observatory, looking at the small displays that were set up, then they headed back down into the Sanctuary and explored, the Doctor leading the way and pointing out things here and there. After a couple of hours Martha was feeling a little weary, so he suggested they have a meal in the restaurant before they headed back to the TARDIS.
"What do you fancy?" he asked her as they looked at the menu.
"The fish dish sounds nice, and the fruit sorbet," she answered.
"All right." He nodded to a waitress and gave their order, requesting some wine to go with the meal.
"I forgot to ask you earlier; is your mum okay about you not rushing straight back?" he asked shortly after the wine was brought to their table.
"Yeah. She said I'd earned a holiday after all the studying and stuff that I've been doing."
"And she's quite right." He fiddled with his fork. "Did you, uh - "
"Tell her about us?" Martha asked when he paused. He nodded. "No. I'm a grown woman; she doesn't need to know everything about my private life. I'll probably tell her eventually, but I'd rather have that conversation face to face."
"You're braver than I am," he observed.
"Oi, don't be cheeky."
He looked horrified. "No, no, no," he said, waving his hands frantically, "I only meant - " Then he caught sight of the mirth sparkling in her eyes. "Oh you! I'm going to get you for that, later."
Martha poked her tongue out at him, and he immediately leaned across the corner of the table to kiss her.
"Doctor!" she whispered, pulling away.
"What?" he asked.
"This is a Sanctuary," she reminded him.
He pouted, and Martha wondered if he did that because he knew she found it hard to resist the sight of his bottom lip quivering.
They made general conversation throughout their meal, but she was aware of every glance he gave her and of the way his arm or his knee brushed against hers in the crowded restaurant: the heat in his expression made her feel warm and she was aware of desire beginning to coil in her belly and groin.
By the time they'd finished eating Martha was almost ready to drag the Doctor back to the TARDIS by his collar, but she settled for walking back sedately. The moment they were inside the ship, though, she grabbed his arm and pushed him back against the door, pressing her body against his and growling when she felt his hardness on her thigh.
"You're a bloody tease," she told him before kissing him fiercely.
He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her up the ramp towards the middle of the room.
"Thought you liked being teased?" he asked as he set her down on the edge of the console, then slid his hands a little way up her legs, rucking up her dress.
"Doesn't mean I can't tell you off for it," she answered, wrapping her legs around his thighs and pulling him closer.
He smirked and slid his hands higher, then manoeuvred her out of her thong. He began kissing her and she moaned into his mouth when he stroked her bare skin with his fingertips.
"Are we doing this here?" she asked, pulling her mouth from his reluctantly.
"Don't you want to?" the Doctor asked, then grinned when he saw her blushing. "I thought so. Tell the truth; you've been dying for me to shag you here, haven't you?"
She nodded, biting her bottom lip. "If the TARDIS won't mind, that is."
He leaned forward, pressing his body against hers. "She'll love it," he assured her, then ducked his head to nip at her earlobe.
Martha groaned, then reached out and unfastened his trousers, shoving them down off his skinny hips, before she clasped his length and guided it towards her core. He grasped her bottom and pulled her body towards his, thrusting forwards at the same time; they both gasped a little as he slipped inside her. Then she wrapped her legs around his body and leaned back, holding the edges of the console to keep herself steady as she looked up into his face. She still hadn't tired of watching him as he climaxed: it gave her a small thrill to see him vulnerable and to know that she was responsible for his loss of control.
"Shall I tell you something?" he asked.
She raised her eyebrows. "What?"
"When we were in the restaurant I wanted to slide under the table, put my head between your legs and lick you until you screamed."
Martha groaned. "It's just as well you didn't," she answered, gasping as his thrusts picked up speed.
"One day I'll take you to one of the pleasure planets, where that sort of behaviour is perfectly acceptable."
"Oooh!" Her response became a drawn-out groan of pleasure as she came, and then it was the Doctor's turn to groan as her muscles gripped him tight and sent him over the edge.
They leaned against each other, breathing heavily and feeling slightly dazed.
"I could almost swear I felt the TARDIS in my head then," Martha observed. "Sort of golden sparks."
"You probably did," he answered, nuzzling her neck. "She enjoys our pleasure in each other."
"Mr Smith, are you telling me your ship is as kinky as you are?" she asked with a giggle.
"Well we are closely linked." He grinned at her look of awe, then bent his head to kiss her again.
After several minutes of intense kissing he finally pulled away, allowing himself to slip out of her, then pulled up his trousers.
"Come on. Let's take this to the bedroom; we'll be more comfortable there."
She slipped down off the edge of the console and picked up her knickers, then took his hand and let him lead her through the corridors to their room. She had a funny feeling it was going to be some time before she got to sleep again tonight.