Nativitas (4/4)
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/226761.html">Nativitas (4/4) by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha/Ten, Ood Sigma, OCs | Rating: NC-17 | Spoilers: S3)
Title: Nativitas (4/4)
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Ten, Ood Sigma, OCs
Rating: NC-17
Warning: The rating is because this chapter is a dark one.
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 elements from the Season 4 story "Planet of the Ood", but is set a few years earlier, so the Dr Ryder who's mentioned is actually the father of the man in that episode.
I didn't think I'd ever write a fic in this sub-genre, but then a Twitter conversation with some folks put the idea into my head and the plot bunnies wouldn't let it go!
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, Part 2, Part 3
~~~~~~
Once there was another building between them and the one they'd just left, Martha opened her eyes and he lowered her to stand on her own two feet, while still holding her close.
"How are you doing?" he asked quietly.
"Been better," she croaked, trying to smile.
"I should take you back to the TARDIS," he said, "I can - "
"No time," she interrupted. "Ballademager will be here before you can get there and back, and you don't want to miss the chance of catching him this time."
"You're far more important than he is," the Doctor said.
She fixed him with a stern look. "Remember what you told me earlier, when we were discussing Ida Scott?" she asked.
He winced, then nodded. "Yes, but - " he began again.
"Doctor, we've got to stop Ballademager. Think how many people he's harmed or who've died for his sake. I'll be fine now the Ood soldiers are out of it and I can't hear their chant."
"Chant?" he asked, looking surprised.
"It was like a call to arms or something," she told him. "All savage anger and a thumping beat."
"May I?" he asked, gesturing at her head. "There will probably be echoes still in your head."
"Okay."
He put his hands to her temples and closed his eyes as he reached into Martha's mind, then winced as the Ood chant echoed in his head in all its mind-numbing savagery. As he withdrew again he sensed something else in her mind, but it seemed to disappear like a will-o'-the-wisp when he tried to focus on it. Since he didn't want to make Martha feel any worse than she already did, he decided not to pursue it, but to wait until they were back aboard the TARDIS and she'd had some rest.
He let go of her head and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry you had to endure that," he told her softly. "I promise that I will teach you how to shield your mind against such things once we're out of here."
She hugged him tightly. "It's okay; I forgive you," she said. "Shouldn't we be getting over to the administration block?"
"We can spare a few more minutes before we move," he assured her, then bent his head to kiss her.
She felt his hand between her legs and started back abruptly, eyes wide. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "This is hardly the time or the place for you to get randy!"
"Trust me, Martha," he said quietly. "The endorphins that are released during orgasm will counteract the worst effects of the telepathic contact with the Ood."
She rolled her eyes. "You couldn't tell me that before you began?" she asked.
"Sorry." He began kissing her again, then unzipped her jeans and slipped his fingers into her knickers. As she clung to him, her lips pressed firmly against his while their tongues twisted and tangled together, he began to stroke her clit. Martha gasped and thrust against his hand as he expertly teased her to a climax, causing her to moan and shudder.
"Better?" he asked, ignoring her whimper as he pulled his hand free.
"Yes!" she exclaimed fervently, although her legs felt shaky.
"Good girl." He pulled up the zip on her jeans and gave her another quick kiss. "Time to go."
They worked their way around the perimeter of the complex until they reached the administration block. Everything there was quiet still, although looking back, Martha could see lights on in the accommodation blocks as people began their day.
The Doctor unlocked the door and they let themselves in, then headed towards Ballademager's ground floor office, which Ryder had told them was at the back of the building.
Martha was beginning to feel nervous about meeting Ballademager again: she knew he wasn't going to be happy at them thwarting him a second time, especially after they were responsible for him being arrested on Derillium. She just hoped that they'd be able to deal with him more swiftly on this occasion.
As she tried to put aside her worries she felt a jab of pain, as if someone had stabbed her mind, and she winced, wondering what had caused such a sharp sensation. She rubbed at her temples as the Doctor stopped outside the door to Ballademager's office, sonicked it, then opened it with a flourish.
"Would Madame care to step inside?" he asked, as if he was a well-bred butler.
She smiled, shaking her head a little, then stepped into the room, which was far more opulent than she'd have expected for an office. There were three leather chairs grouped around a large, leather-topped mahogany desk, which contained very little apart from some carved wooden figures, two white objects that resembled motorcycle helmets without visors, and the slimmest laptop she'd ever seen.
"Where's the keyboard?" she asked the Doctor as he lifted the lid and switched it on.
"There isn't one. It's got a touch pad." He gestured at the flat area where she'd expected to see the keyboard and watched as it lit up, illuminating a keyboard layout. He tapped at a key and it showed a different set of controls, across which his long slender fingers danced rapidly for a few moments.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Setting up a jamming signal to interfere with the communications system," he answered.
"And just why are you doing that?" asked a voice from the doorway.
Startled, Martha straightened up and turned from looking at the laptop's screen to see a familiar figure.
"You two!" exclaimed Ballademager, hectic spots of red appearing on his cheeks as he recognised them.
"Us two, yes, hello," answered the Doctor, waving cheerily at the other man while pulling off and pocketing his glasses.
"I thought I had seen the last of you," spat Ballademager.
"Nope, sorry. We're actually quite hard to get rid of, when we choose to be. Aren't we Martha?"
"Yes, we are," she agreed.
Ballademager tapped on his wrist communicator as he advanced into the room.
"That won't work," the Doctor reminded him. "I thought you were listening just now?"
"Clearly he wasn't paying attention," Martha commented, smiling sweetly at Ballademager's annoyed expression.
"Why are you here?" asked Ballademager in a low voice.
"To stop you, of course," answered the Doctor in an isn't-it-obvious tone. "What you're doing, turning the Ood into soldiers, is completely immoral and unjustifiable."
Ballademager snorted. "Of course it's justifiable! There's always a need for soldiers, especially with the Empire continuing to expand."
"But to turn sentient creatures into soldiers against their natural instincts is immoral," Martha said, feeling her anger rising in response to his casual dismissal of the rights of the Ood. She could also feel the beginnings of a headache developing and rubbed at her temples with her fingertips. When she saw the Doctor glance at her anxiously she summoned up a smile, knowing it was important for him to stay focused.
"At the same time that I was setting up the jamming signal, I unlocked all the doors on the Ood containers and locked all the doors on the staff accommodation blocks," the Time Lord said. "Which means the Ood, apart from the thirty soldiers, will be making good their escape, and the humans can do nothing to stop them. By the time you manage to get the doors open again, the Ood will be long gone."
"You'll die for this," snarled Ballademager, his face darkening with rage.
"Oh, I rather doubt that," answered the Doctor cheerfully. "You see, I've alerted the authorities and notified them of what was going on here - told them about four hours ago, actually, so there are already people on their way to deal with you and your staff."
"That won't stop me from killing you before they get here," answered Ballademager, with a slightly hysterical laugh.
"I am afraid I cannot allow you to kill Friends of the Ood, sir," said a new voice from the doorway.
Martha started, so surprised was she at the sudden appearance of Ood Sigma. The Doctor, on the other hand, seemed far from surprised, and she wondered if he'd somehow summoned the Ood, or if he'd come of his own accord.
Ballademager seemed completely astounded by the appearance of Ood Sigma. "Where did you spring from?" he demanded.
"I did not spring, sir, I walked." The Ood advanced further into the room until he was within arm's reach of the boss.
"And how exactly are you going to stop me?" asked Ballademager sneeringly.
"Like this, sir," answered the Ood.
"Ood Sigma, no!" shouted the Doctor as the Ood reached forward with his translator ball and placed it against Ballademager's head.
Martha gasped in shock as white light shot out of the ball and played across his forehead. Ballademager's eyes rolled up in his head, before he collapsed onto his shagpile carpet. She immediately rushed over and felt for a pulse.
"He's alive," she said, relieved, despite her intense dislike of the man and what he'd done.
"I did not wish him to kill you, Doctor, Martha," Ood Sigma said patiently. "I could not kill another, but he had to be stopped." He knelt beside Martha as he spoke and gave her an earnest look.
"We understand," she answered, reaching out and clasping his shoulder. "Thank you." She glanced up at the Doctor.
"Thank you, Ood Sigma. I'm sorry I doubted your intentions."
"Your doubt was understandable, sir."
There was a low rumble overhead and Martha looked up in wonder.
"I believe that's the authorities," the Doctor said, cocking his head to one side as he listened. "Martha, do you want to show Ood Sigma where the soldiers are being held, and I'll go and talk to the authorities?"
She nodded and he bent down, delving into Ballademager's inside jacket pocket. "Here. This keycard will get you into any building without me needing to override all the doors on the site."
She took the small rectangle of plastic from him, then allowed him to kiss her quickly.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. "You're looking a bit peaky."
"I've just got a headache," she answered.
"Hmm, that's probably a side effect of being subjected to all that telepathy earlier. You can have a nice long sleep when we get back to the TARDIS," he promised.
"Okay." She moved away and Ood Sigma followed her as she led the way to the building where the Ood soldiers were housed.
Martha let them in and waited while he hurried to look at his fellows who were still unconscious, although she thought that the first ones they'd sedated were beginning to stir.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Dr Ryder told us they'd been trained as soldiers and that Ballademager intended to see them fighting today. Sedating them seemed the best way to ensure that didn't happen."
"I understand, Martha Jones. You followed the wisest course of action."
"I hope so." She rubbed at her temples again; her headache seemed to have intensified. "I was wondering if they would revert to their natural state once they've got the drugs out of their system."
"By natural state you refer to Ood like myself?" asked Ood Sigma courteously.
She frowned, wondering what else he thought she meant. "Yes."
"But this is not our natural state," he told her. "I am a processed Ood. Let me show you the Ood in their natural state."
"Okay." She followed him, puzzled and wondering, out of the building and across the complex to another building, where she unlocked the door with the borrowed keycard.
They'd only walked a few steps inside when Martha started, realising that she could hear singing, but it was in her head, like the soldiers' battle chant had been. This song was different to that one: it was filled with pain and misery, its notes harsh and mournful.
"What is that?" she gasped, clutching at her head.
"I am sorry, Martha Jones. That is the Ood song of captivity." He took her hand and led her forwards to a cage against the far wall. In it were a group of Ood crouching in a circle, all of them holding their hands cupped in front of them.
"What are they holding?" she asked, gritting her teeth against the painful song in her head.
One of the Ood looked over at her and, seeing Ood Sigma at her side, lifted one hand away to show her what she instantly recognised as a small brain.
"A second brain?" she asked, horror and disbelief making her temporarily forget the intensifying pain in her own head. "Wait. You're telling me that the Ood, in their natural state, have an external hind brain." She frowned in thought, remembering what she'd been told earlier. "It works something like the amygdala in humans, processing emotion and memory, but its removal makes an Ood subservient." She gave Ood Sigma a questioning look and he nodded.
"You are correct, Martha Jones."
She felt appalled; she'd thought it was bad enough that the humans had given the Ood the translator balls, thereby suppressing their natural means of communication, but this was far, far worse.
"We have to tell the Doctor," she said. "It's important that everyone knows about this."
She got to her feet and started towards the door, then staggered and fell to her knees, as a sharp stab of pain shot through her head.
Ood Sigma was at her side instantly, trying to help her back to her feet.
"Doctor," she gasped. "Go, tell, please." Then she blacked out.
* * * * * *
Martha remained unconscious while Ood Sigma fetched the Doctor and Dr Ryder, who'd been talking to the authorities at the Time Lord's behest. She was unaware of the Doctor trying to enter her mind so that he could block the Ood song of captivity, or that he failed to get in because he met a yawning pit of darkness guarded by something that shifted form every time he tried to look at it: first Davros in his chair, then a Judoon, then a Dalek.
She had no knowledge of the frantic ride on a snowmobile which the Doctor borrowed from Ryder, Ood Sigma riding pillion with Martha cradled in his arms as the vehicle shot back to the TARDIS. She also missed the Doctor's hasty farewell to Ood Sigma: the Time Lord being anxious to get them into the Vortex where he hoped that he and the ship would be able to reach her mind.
He was glad that she was unconscious while he and the TARDIS fought to gain control of her mind, the two of them communicating in symbols and images rather than words, which were too slow and clumsy for what they needed to do. As he and the ship worked he was appalled to realise that the mind-form that was preventing him from helping Martha had been created by their baby in a terrified reaction to the anger, pain and misery expressed in the telepathic Ood songs she had heard. It was the TARDIS who lead him back to the baby's mind, following the strong yet tiny link between mother and child, a boy, he now discovered.
Ship and Time Lord worked hard to soothe the baby, to calm and comfort him, while also trying to confine the baby's mind to a smaller and smaller area of Martha's, so that he didn't overwhelm her. But it was like trying to hold back the sea with a sponge: the child's nascent, untrained telepathy was too wild, and he reacted violently to the efforts of the Doctor, seeming to interpret his and the TARDIS' intervention as a further attack rather than an attempt to assist. If Martha's and the baby's lives hadn't been at stake, the Time Lord would have been fascinated by the way the child took bits of the Ood songs and sent them back at his father; as it was, though, there was a danger that his telepathy was going overwhelm Martha's mind to the extent that they would both die before he could be delivered.
When she came round, five hours after she had collapsed, the Doctor gave her a shaky smile. "Hello." He leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss across her lips.
"Hello," she rasped. She looked at his worried expression. "What happened?"
"What can you remember?"
She frowned, wincing at the ache in her head. "Ood Sigma took me to see some unprocessed Ood," she said.
The Doctor nodded, then rubbed a hand over his face and she wondered if he'd been crying, his eyes were so red-rimmed. "The Ood song of captivity was too much, on top of the battle chant, for your unshielded mind. You collapsed."
She looked up at him, noting a slight hesitation in his manner. "There's something else. What aren't you telling me?"
"The baby was also affected," he said quietly. "The biggest side effect of the telepathic incursions is that they awoke our baby's own telepathic abilities. He - "
"He?" she asked, eyes widening in surprise.
He nodded. "He shouldn't even be able to touch his mind to yours yet, but the strength of the Ood telepathy was such that he not only touched yours, but was reacting to their pain and anger, and he was blocking me from your mind."
Martha stared at him, feeling numb. Her own child was hurting her - it seemed incomprehensible.
He swallowed hard. "There's more," he said.
"What?" she asked fearfully. His expression was so distraught that she felt frightened.
"It's taken five hours for me and the TARDIS to overcome him sufficiently to allow you to wake up." As he spoke she realised just how exhausted he looked. "And we're barely holding the baby back. He's only going to get stronger as he grows, to the extent that he's going to overwhelm your mind, and you'll be left as little more than a vegetable."
"Oh god!" Martha began to sob as she realised the full implication of his words.
He reached for her, tears in his own eyes. "I'm sorry, Martha, but I'm going to have to terminate the pregnancy, or he will kill you."
"You can't!" she cried. "You can't kill my baby! Please, don't kill my baby! Please don't!" She thumped his shoulder, although there was no strength in her blow.
He caught her hand in his and gently pulled her closer, holding her as she sobbed unrestrained into his neck. He was glad that she couldn't see his face, and how much it had hurt when she said 'my baby' where before she'd always said 'our'. He understood why she was claiming possession when he was threatening their child, but it still hurt.
"Please Doctor, please don't," she begged, choking out the words.
"Martha, I have to, I'm sorry. If there was any way to stop him from overwhelming your mind, I wouldn't need to do this. But the TARDIS and I haven't been able to find a way - we're literally only just holding him at bay now. If I don't do it, you will both die, and I'm not prepared to lose both of you."
"But can't you deliver him prematurely?" she asked between sobs, then realised that the baby probably wouldn't survive this early in the pregnancy. "Can't you teach me how to stop him overwhelming my mind, please?"
She looked up at him and saw him bite his lip before he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't. It would take too long when your telepathic ability is still mostly untrained and his isn't even fully formed yet."
They clung together, Martha still sobbing. After a few minutes her exhaustion began to catch up with her and her sobs became quieter. The Doctor lowered her back to lie on the bed. They held hands tightly and she could see tear tracks on his face as she looked up at him. Part of her felt that she was being selfish for reacting so violently to his news: he'd been so happy since they'd discovered her pregnancy, so full of plans of places to go and things to do once the baby was born. She felt guilty for not considering his feelings as well as her own, and she wondered if he blamed her for the baby's telepathic abilities being woken: if she hadn't insisted that they help the Ood, none of this would have happened. She couldn't regret helping the Ood, but she blamed herself for not being more careful.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"For what?" he asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
"For not taking better care of myself today."
"Oh Martha! This isn't your fault. If anything, it's mine. I should have made sure that you knew how to protect your mind before we ever set foot outside the TARDIS, once I knew of your increased receptivity to telepathy."
"But - " she began.
He laid a finger against her lips. "Shh, don't," he said softly. He moved his hand to cup her cheek, gazing down at her. "Martha, do you understand what I'm going to do, and why?"
She gave a weak nod, her hand coming up to clasp his wrist. "I don't want you to do it, but I am a doctor, and I know very well that sometimes the lesser of two evils is the only choice you can make for the sake of the patient's health."
He gave a tight nod, swallowing hard. "Thank you." He leaned forward to kiss her carefully, and she felt his fingers at her temples, then consciousness slipped away again.
The Doctor rested his forehead against hers, trying to steady himself to do what he needed to do. He could feel the TARDIS still holding the baby's mind in a tight cocoon that gave him nothing to feed on: like starving a flame of oxygen.
He pulled himself stiffly to his feet and crossed to the sink, washing his hands, then pulling on a pair of latex gloves, before taking up the first needle to give Martha the necessary injection. The drug would block the enzyme that was necessary for DNA synthesis, thereby inhibiting the growth of the placental cells that allowed the baby to continue developing.
He paused for a moment to swallow and blink back tears, then he lifted the needle and gave Martha the injection. He would follow it up with a second drug within the next twenty-four hours, but for now he would let her sleep. He just hoped she wouldn't hate him afterwards.
* * * * * *
When Martha next awoke, she instantly knew by the lack of pressure in her head that the baby was gone. She lay still, her eyes closed, as she struggled to grasp the thought and make sense of it. She was so busy trying that the Doctor's cool fingers clasping her hand startled her; she gasped in surprise as her eyes flew open and she choked back a sob.
"Martha." He spoke softly and she felt his mind brush gently against hers.
She took in his reddened eyes and immediately pushed herself up, wanting to comfort him. "I'm sorry," she sobbed as she clung to him. "I'm sorry we lost him. I'm sorry I - "
"Shh, shh." He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed and tried to apologise for something that wasn't even her fault. While she had slept, he'd come to the conclusion that just as it had been a quirk of fate that she'd fallen pregnant, so, too, it was a quirk of fate that they'd lost the baby.
"Martha, this isn't your fault," he told her, stroking her hair and neck. "You mustn't blame yourself for what happened. Please, don't blame yourself."
He kissed the top of her head, and when she pulled back to look at him, he kissed her brow, and then her lips. This isn't your fault. Don't blame yourself, because I don't. And be assured that I love you, Martha Jones. He spoke to her mind to mind, remembering their conversation about not being able to lie when their minds were linked.
Aloud, he asked "Do you want to see him?"
He felt her stiffen in surprise for a moment, then she pushed herself away from him to look at his face again.
"I thought we could bury him in one of the TARDIS gardens," he said hesitantly, "unless you want to take him to Earth?"
Martha shook her head. "No, I'd rather he was buried here."
He nodded and she tried to dry her eyes, glad of the box of tissues on the bedside table.
"Do you want to have a bath first?" he asked. "I tried to clean you up afterwards, but - "
"I'd like a bath," she said. She looked down at her hands as she twisted a soggy tissue into pieces.
"What is it?" the Doctor asked gently, clasping her hands in his.
"I think - I'll need your help," she said, and he realised that she was embarrassed to ask.
"Of course." He got to his feet, pushing aside the chair he'd been sitting in while he waited for her to wake, then he helped her out of the bed.
Martha's legs felt like jelly as they made their way the short distance across the room to the ensuite bathroom: she felt as if someone had put her through a wringer, leaving her feeling as limp as a rag.
In the bathroom, the Doctor filled the bath, then helped her out of the pyjamas he'd put her into once he'd moved her from the Med Bay to their bedroom. He took off his jacket, then rolled up his sleeves and helped Martha to step into the bath, before kneeling beside it to wash her. He noticed that she wouldn't meet his eyes and wondered if she was embarrassed about him seeing her naked, which she hadn't been before, even in their first days together. He knew that he would have to find ways to reassure her that he still found her desirable and that losing their baby hadn't made her any less attractive as a woman.
He also wondered if their relationship would survive their loss: Martha had fallen pregnant so soon after they'd become a couple that they'd begun talking of themselves as a family before they had really got used to the idea of being a pair.
Martha allowed the Doctor to bathe her without really registering what he was doing. She was struggling desperately to make sense of the way in which her life had been turned upside down for the second time in the space of a month. She didn't want to accept that her baby was dead: it seemed a monstrous thing to believe, but at the same time, she knew it was true. And while she also knew that even among humans a miscarriage was not unusual, and a half human, half Time Lord baby was, if anything, more at risk of early termination than a purely human one, she still felt it was her fault. She kept thinking that if only she hadn't done this or that thing, things would have turned out differently. Her mind circled like a shark around the various things she'd done during their visit to the Oodsphere, and she wished that she could go back and change them.
At one point she even opened her mouth to ask the Doctor to take them back in time by 24 hours, but she closed it again, the request unuttered: she knew perfectly well that such a thing was not possible. And even if it were, there was no guarantee that another situation might not arise that would lead to her losing the baby in some other way.
She wished that they had made a decision about what to call their child. They'd come up with a variety of male and female names, both human and Gallifreyan, including names that meant hope, strength, joy, beginning and gift, but they'd put off making a decision. Martha had wanted to pick a name soon, obscurely feeling that it would be wrong for the baby to be born without one, but the Doctor had procrastinated, saying there was no rush. She now wondered if he'd put off the decision because he hadn't quite believed the child would be carried to full term. He probably had a far better idea of the risks inherent in a human-Time Lord hybrid than she did, for all it had never happened before.
The Doctor finished washing Martha, then helped her back out of the bath. "Do you need help getting dressed again?" he asked as he began to dry her body.
"Yes please. I feel like my limbs are made of jelly."
He nodded in understanding, then led her, wrapped in a bathrobe, back into their room. He wondered if she would flinch if he caressed her while he dressed her; he wanted her to be reassured that he still loved her, without making her think that he was ignoring what had happened. Then he realised the only way to find out was to try it, and he picked up her bra and held it for her as she slipped her arms through the straps. He reached around to fasten it for her, then dipped his head to place a gentle kiss on the top of her breast, above the pale yellow cotton.
Martha started, clearly surprised, and he looked up at her, waiting to see what her reaction would be. She stared at him, tears in her eyes, but she didn't step back or push him away, so he ducked his head again and kissed the top of her other breast.
He held her knickers for her to step into, then slid them up her legs, bending his head to kiss the tattoo on her stomach. Between each item of clothing he helped her into, he kissed her somewhere on her bare skin until she was dressed again.
Then he held her shoulders and looked into her face, holding her gaze with his. "I want you to know that you are still as beautiful and desirable in my eyes as you've ever been, and I want you to know that I still love you and want you, but we'll take things at a pace that's comfortable to you."
"Thank you." Her voice was hoarse from crying earlier, but she seemed relieved, and he was glad that he hadn't upset her.
He pulled her into an embrace, and they held each other for several minutes before the Doctor took her hand and led her to the Med Bay, where he showed her the tiny casket the TARDIS had provided for them, their son's body inside.
"He's bigger than I expected," she said quietly.
"That's his Gallifreyan genes," he told her. "Our children develop faster than human babies." The Doctor watched her as she looked at their baby, taking in his tiny fingers and toes, with their minute nails, and the slight fuzz of hair on his head. His skin was paler than hers, but still more brown than white. From head to toe he was barely two inches long.
"He's beautiful," she whispered.
"Just like his mother," answered the Doctor.
She ducked her head, embarrassed, and waited while the Doctor sealed the lid on the casket, then used his sonic screwdriver to inscribe on the lid, in English and Gallifreyan, the date and the words A beloved son, lost to Time.
He gave her the casket to carry, then took her free hand in his to lead her through the corridors to their favourite garden. They'd visited it often during the month they had spent aboard the TARDIS after discovering Martha was pregnant: they'd talked, read to each other, had picnics and made love there, enjoying each other's companionship.
"I thought we could bury him among the poppies," he said, "if that's okay with you?"
She nodded and followed him over to the bed of wild poppies; she held the casket while the Doctor dug a small hole about a foot down. They knelt down, side by side, each wrapping an arm around the other, then they lowered the casket into the hole together. Martha picked up the spade and untidily shovelled some earth over the top, then the Doctor filled in the rest.
"Do you want to say anything?" he asked.
She nodded. "My dear child, I love you and I will never forget you."
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she began to cry again, silent tears sliding down her face, before he spoke. "My dear son, we will remember you."
He led Martha back through the corridors to the kitchen where he got her to sit down while he made them both a meal. Then he carried her back to their room and helped her change back into her pyjamas before tucking her into bed.
"You're not going, are you?" she asked, catching hold of his hand as he got up.
"Only to wash up," he answered, "and then I'll be back."
"Okay."
He suspected she'd be asleep before he returned, but he had no intention of refusing to come back, and he would be glad of the rest himself.
The Doctor went back to the kitchen and tried to focus on simply washing up, but his mind wandered away: he tried not to remember having to deliver his dead son, how he'd wanted to hear the child cry as he left the warmth of his mother's body, how he'd had to clean up both Martha and the baby afterwards. Or how he'd nearly broken down when the TARDIS had provided the tiny casket for his son to be buried in; even the ship had been affected, her hum turning to a mournful dirge as soon as the baby had been delivered.
With Gallifrey and his own people gone he'd never expected to be a father again, and the discovery that Martha was pregnant, after the initial shock had worn off, had been a happy surprise, but at the back of his mind there had been that little niggle of doubt about whether the baby would survive. Not that he'd expected this twist of circumstances, but he had wondered about Martha miscarrying because he wasn't sure a human-Time Lord baby would be genetically viable, even as he'd longed for the child to live.
He wondered if she would want to try again after some time had passed; if she did, he would do his utmost to ensure that he kept both her and the baby safe and well. He tipped away the washing up water with a heavy sigh: there was still no guarantee that his relationship with Martha would even survive this trauma, so he really shouldn't be thinking too far ahead just yet. In the meantime, she was in need of his support and comfort, and he couldn't give it to her if he was lurking about in the kitchen. He dried his hands quickly, then headed back to their bedroom where he found her still awake, but obviously fighting her body's need for sleep to wait for his return.
"Sorry," he whispered softly, changing swiftly into his pyjamas and then sliding into the bed next to her.
She murmured something he couldn't distinguish, and he kissed her hair then waited for her to snuggle up, sliding an arm around her shoulders as she settled her head on his shoulder. Moments later she was fast asleep.
* * * * * *
The next few weeks weren't easy for either of them. Martha spent the first few days mostly sleeping, with occasional bouts of crying. The Doctor cooked her favourite things to try to get her to eat, and lay beside her, holding her hand and singing lullabies to her as she slept.
One day she asked him what had happened to Ballademager, and he told her about his arrest and subsequent trial.
"He's in prison," the Doctor said. "He'll be there for the rest of his life." He noted how relieved she looked, and felt pleased he'd had that good news to give her.
More than once during the following weeks he slipped away to the Control Room, relying on the TARDIS to let him know if Martha was waking, so that he could read her journal. He quickly found that he couldn't read too many entries at one go because he grew too angry about the destruction caused by the Master to his adopted planet, and the things Martha had to endure upset him a good deal. He wept more than once over her accounts of dealing with radiation sickness patients - many of whom she could do nothing more for than give them a fatal dose of morphine to end their suffering. He rejoiced, though, over her accounts of the help she was given and the bravery of those who took grave risks to ensure she was able to continue her journey.
Her account was presented in a straight forward manner and with as much objectivity as she could manage. He couldn't help thinking that anyone who didn't know Martha might find them clinical, but the lists of those who'd died helping her, with as many personal details as she'd been able to gather, showed that she had cared about each person.
He remembered the way that so many of the people they'd encountered while she had been travelling with him had seemed to gravitate towards her. In conversations afterwards she would often let slip some small detail that revealed how much she'd learned from the people they met, and how often they confided in her.
However, the Doctor's confidence in Martha's ability to get through the loss of their baby grew with each new set of entries he read. She had survived the year of the Master's reign over Earth with her spirit still intact, and he was sure she would survive this too.
* * * * * *
One morning, a month after they'd buried their baby, Martha woke up and said she wanted to get dressed. He gave her a smile of pure delight, and she instantly felt selfish.
"I'm sorry," she said as he helped her to the bathroom.
"For what?" he asked, surprised.
"For being selfish, for shutting you out, and making you run around after me."
"Martha, of course you weren't being selfish. And I didn't feel shut out. You need time to grieve, I know that: losing a baby is one of the most painful experiences a woman can have."
He pulled her into an embrace, stroking her back and humming a lullaby.
"What is that?" she asked. "I've heard it before."
"Probably, it's a Gallifreyan lullaby," he answered, "I've been humming them to you while you were sleeping."
"Oh." She pulled away from him and began to unbutton her pyjama top. "Will you teach it to me, please?"
"Of course." He ran the bath as she undressed, and then helped her into it.
"Will you join me?" she asked, her expression shy but hopeful.
"I'd love to." The Doctor stripped off his own pyjamas quickly, then climbed in with her, feeling glad that she was feeling comfortable enough for them to do this again.
They washed each other, both being careful and tender, then he washed her hair for her. Once they were both dry again, he brushed Martha's hair, kneeling behind her on their bed.
"You'd make quite a good lady's maid," she observed once he'd finished putting it up into his favourite spiky do.
He grinned at her. "Why thank you ma'am," he simpered, in a silly falsetto.
She shook her head at him, but he saw her smile briefly and felt elated that she could make a joke. He didn't believe that she was over their loss already, but he felt it was a positive step forward.
Martha took his hand and they made their way to the kitchen where, at her insistence, they made breakfast together.
"How are you feeling?" he asked as they sat down to eat. "Physically, I mean."
"Tired and sluggish," she answered. "I need some exercise."
"We could go for a walk in the Arboretum," he suggested.
She nodded. "I thought I might go for a swim too."
"All right then, a walk and swim between breakfast and lunch."
He smiled and she smiled back: it was a bit brittle and uncertain, he noticed, but he didn't mention it. He was just glad that she felt up to getting up; he'd wondered several times over the last month, whether to take the TARDIS back to Earth, to risk another slap from Francine Jones, so that Martha could be with her mother. In the end, though, he'd decided to remain in the Vortex, not because he feared Francine's wrath, but because he wasn't sure if it was what Martha would want to do.
They finished their breakfast and washed up, then the Doctor offered her his arm and they headed to the Arboretum.
"I've lost track, with sleeping so much, how long is it since - I mean, how long - "
"A month," he broke in, not wanting her to flounder over how to word the question.
"I'm sorry."
He stopped walking abruptly. "Martha, will you promise me something?" he asked, his expression serious, almost stern.
She swallowed and nodded, wondering what promise he wanted her to make.
"Promise you won't keep apologising," he said. "This is a situation in which you are guilty of only one thing, and that is having a perfectly normal reaction to the death of our child. If anyone needs to apologise, it's me: I didn't look after you and the baby properly. If I had, there wouldn't have been any need for me to - "
She noticed the way his voice almost broke on his last few words and she felt a surge of emotion; turning she clung to him, struggling not to cry again.
"I promise," she whispered. She was remembering the way he'd blamed himself for destroying his own people, and knew that he wouldn't blame himself any less harshly for the death of their child.
They held each other for several minutes, then he led her across to a bench the TARDIS provided, and they sat down.
"Do you want to go home?" he asked.
"If you think it would be better if I went," she began, stiffly, then caught sight of his shocked expression and realised that she'd misunderstood his suggestion.
"I meant, would it help you to go and see your family." He spoke as stiffly as she had and she thought his eyes looked darker than she'd ever seen them before.
Martha shivered involuntarily. "I'm sorry, I misunderstood," she whispered, feeling tears starting afresh.
"Yes, you did," he answered.
She realised that he was hurt that she'd thought he was trying to send her home, and she knew that if she wasn't careful their loss would drive them apart, rather than bringing them closer together, and she knew she didn't want that.
She reached out and clasped his hands which were twisted together in his lap. "Forgive me, please?" she asked softly. "My emotions are all over the place and I can't quite think straight right now."
His expression softened immediately and he pulled his hands free of hers to lift her onto his lap. "Of course I'll forgive you, and will you forgive me too? We're in the same boat, here, and although I've been both a father and a grandfather already, I still wanted us to have a baby together because it would have been our child. And you, Martha Jones, have come to mean a great deal to me, more than I ever expected or would have guessed was possible a year ago."
He kissed her temple, then spoke into her mind. We're in this together, you and I, and I don't want to lose you. That's why I did what I did, to save you. Because I'm not ready to lose you yet, though I know I will eventually. I will do everything I can to help you through this, but I need you to help me, too, Martha. You are my Doctor after all.
She turned her head and kissed him properly for the first time since the Oodsphere, letting him feel the love she felt for him but couldn't currently find the words for.
After a few minutes he groaned softly and she sensed, through their mental link, his growing arousal and she pulled away quickly.
"I - uh - " Martha found herself bereft of words as she caught sight of the desire in his eyes. She moved off the Doctor's lap and sat beside him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
"I'm sorry, Martha," he said softly, taking her hands in his, copying her gesture of a few moments ago.
"It's - " She swallowed. "It's okay," she assured him shakily. "Your reaction is a perfectly natural one. I didn't mean to lead you on."
"You didn't," he answered, still speaking quietly. While they had been mentally linked he'd sensed her own arousal, but he'd also felt her guilt and confusion about her desire. "Come on, let's go and have that swim."
She gave a small nod and allowed him to pull her up from the bench. He embraced her briefly, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead, then they walked through the Arboretum and through the corridors to the swimming pool.
Once they'd changed into their swimwear Martha could see that the Doctor was still semi-aroused and she felt a fresh wave of guilt, both for kissing him and for desiring him: she wanted him, but at the same time she felt it was wrong. More than once during the past month she'd woken up to find his arousal pressed against her body as he slept curled around her. Each time he'd woken soon afterwards and disappeared into the bathroom, and she had remembered how much she had liked watching him climax, but she'd felt no answering stir of desire in herself.
Shaking her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts, she lowered herself into the pool and stood for a few moments, letting her body adjust to being in the water. The Doctor had already jumped in, and he swam over to join her, then offered her his hands. She took hold of them and allowed him to pull her off her feet as he began to walk backwards down the pool while she kicked.
"Okay?" he asked and she nodded, so he let go of her hands and watched as she doggy-paddled past him. He caught her up half way down the pool and they swam several lengths together before Martha began to tire from the unaccustomed exercise.
"Do you want to get out?" he asked when he noticed she was starting to weary.
"No. I think I'll just float for a bit, if you don't mind?"
"Of course not." He leaned against the side of the pool, then held out his hands again and she clasped them, then kicked up her feet to lie back, her eyes closed.
The Doctor held her at arms' length for a while, then slowly drew her body closer to his until the top of her head just touched his body. He clasped both her hands in his left, then put the fingers of his right hand to her temple, making a mental link between them. He began to hum a Gallifreyan lullaby to her and he felt her relaxing still further as he sent a series of soothing images into her mind.
Do you want a nap before we have some lunch? he asked when he sensed she was coming close to sleep.
Might be a good idea, she answered dreamily.
He took his hand from her head and she opened her eyes, slightly startled. "Sorry." He held her as she grounded herself again, then helped her out of the pool, catching up a towel to rub her dry. He helped her out of her wet bikini and finished drying her off, then dried himself while Martha dressed again.
"Come on, Dr Jones," he said, picking her up once he was also fully clothed. "You look as if you're barely staying awake"
"I am a bit sleepy," she murmured, settling her head in the crook of his neck as he carried her back to their room.
He murmured a quiet word of thanks to the TARDIS when she rearranged her rooms so that he didn't have to carry her far. He helped her change into her pyjamas and tucked her into bed.
"Are you going?"
"I thought you might prefer to nap on your own," he answered.
"I'd rather you stayed," she said quietly.
"Okay." He changed into his own pyjamas, then climbed into bed next to her. She immediately turned over and snuggled up beside him with a murmur of pleasure before slipping into sleep.
As she slept Martha dreamed of the many times the Doctor had made love to her and she woke abruptly an hour later with her right hand resting between her thighs. She opened her eyes to find the Time Lord watching her, his own arousal evident in his face and his body. He reached out and gently placed his hand over hers, lightly resting it there.
"There's nothing wrong with becoming aroused," he said softly. "You don't have to feel guilty about it."
"I know I shouldn't," she answered.
"Do you want to make love?" he asked. "If you're worried about becoming pregnant again, there are condoms in the Med Bay - Jack left some behind."
"Trust Jack," she said with a small smile.
"It's up to you, Martha. I'm not going to force you into anything if you feel you're not ready. But if you are ready, you don't have to deny yourself."
"I think I am," she whispered.
He gave her a smile and leaned forward to brush a kiss against her lips, then raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to go and get the condoms?"
She gave a quick nod, so he rolled off the bed and hurried away, returning so fast that Martha thought the TARDIS must have done a room shuffle again for him.
He put the box on the bedside table, then climbed onto the bed again and began to kiss her and caress her gently. Although he ached with desire, he was determined to go no faster than she was comfortable with, and he let her decide when they should start taking off their pyjamas.
Eventually they were both naked and the Doctor grabbed the packet from the bedside table, offering it to her. She accepted it and took out a condom, then carefully rolled it down his length, before moving to lie on top of him. He gently stroked her back, waiting for her to make the next move and after a few moments, she guided his erection into her body.
"Okay?" he asked softly. She nodded and he kissed her deeply before beginning to thrust gently. She watched his face, just as she always had, although her own orgasm began just before his and her eyes closed momentarily as he began to climax. Afterwards she lay supine on top of him, and he stroked her back again until he became aware she'd dropped off to sleep again. He smiled and carefully rolled over so that she lay beside him, then he removed the condom before spooning up behind her.
"Sleep well, Martha Jones," he whispered, then closed his own eyes. He hoped that she wouldn't regret what they'd just done, and that it would be another step forward on her road to recovery.
Two months later
Francine Jones watched proudly as her daughter accepted her graduation scroll from the Principal, then shook his hand. "She looks so happy," she murmured to the tall man at her side.
"Yes, she does," he answered, not taking his eyes off Martha's diminutive figure as she crossed the stage and walked down the steps towards the main body of the hall.
"Thank you for coming with her today," Francine said. "Clive and the others were disappointed they couldn't be here too."
The Doctor glanced at her. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world, any world," he told her. "She worked hard for this and I'm probably as proud of her as you are."
She smiled at him. "When will you be off again?"
"Trying to get rid of me, Mrs Jones?" he asked lightly.
She saw the concern in his eyes, despite the fact he was trying to hide it, and reached out to put a hand on his arm. "I'm not," she assured him. "You'll always be welcome in my home."
"Thank you." He reached up and patted her hand a little awkwardly. "I'm not sure when we'll be going. It's up to Martha, but I think she'd like to stick around for a few days."
"You two seem much closer than you were before," she observed. She noted the look of alarm that briefly flashed across his face. "It's okay. I'm not going to slap you."
He gave a shaky laugh. "That's a relief. I'd hate to cause a scene at Martha's graduation." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "We are closer," he admitted. "Your daughter has come to mean a great deal to me, Mrs Jones."
She nodded and he suddenly felt certain that she had expected that answer. "Look after her, please," she said. "I know very well that she can look after herself, and that she's strong and brave, but promise you'll look after her for me."
The Doctor swallowed, then nodded. "I promise."
"Thank you."
He thought back over the last two months, recalling the way he and Martha had worked hard to maintain their relationship after losing their baby. They had some difficult moments, particularly when they'd ended up in a war zone on Speranza, and found a hospital full of war orphans who were suffering from malnutrition owing to food supplies not getting through. He'd worried Martha would be too upset to deal with the situation, but he'd quickly found he'd misjudged her, and she proved as brilliant as he'd hoped, looking after the children while he went off to fetch supplies and more staff for the hospital.
They'd also enjoyed some moments of quiet relaxation, visiting various Nebulae and other astronomical phenomena, or simply spending time together while the TARDIS sat idly in the Vortex. She had talked regularly with her mother, but whenever he'd suggested that they visit Francine, Martha had put it off until Mrs Jones mentioned that the details of the graduation ceremony had come through.
He smiled at Martha as she joined them once the ceremony was over. "Congratulations, Dr Jones," he said, putting considerable emphasis on her title.
"Thank you." She hugged them both in turn, then slipped her arms through theirs. "I could murder a cuppa," she told Francine. "And there's something I want to talk to you about."
The Doctor stiffened beside her. It's time she knew, Martha told him.
Very well.
He wished he had the nerve to flee back to the TARDIS, but he knew that facing Martha's wrath, if he did that, would be no easier than facing Francine's. He wondered if he'd still be welcome in Mrs Jones' home once she knew the full details of how close he and Martha had become.
He swallowed and found a smile. You realise I may have to regenerate after this? he asked, then grimaced when Martha's soft laughter filled his head.
I'll still love you, she assured him.
I just hope I'm ginger next time.
He slid into Francine's car with a fatalistic feeling, deciding he'd rather face an army of Judoon than one angry mother.
Title: Nativitas (4/4)
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Ten, Ood Sigma, OCs
Rating: NC-17
Warning: The rating is because this chapter is a dark one.
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 elements from the Season 4 story "Planet of the Ood", but is set a few years earlier, so the Dr Ryder who's mentioned is actually the father of the man in that episode.
I didn't think I'd ever write a fic in this sub-genre, but then a Twitter conversation with some folks put the idea into my head and the plot bunnies wouldn't let it go!
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, Part 2, Part 3
~~~~~~
Once there was another building between them and the one they'd just left, Martha opened her eyes and he lowered her to stand on her own two feet, while still holding her close.
"How are you doing?" he asked quietly.
"Been better," she croaked, trying to smile.
"I should take you back to the TARDIS," he said, "I can - "
"No time," she interrupted. "Ballademager will be here before you can get there and back, and you don't want to miss the chance of catching him this time."
"You're far more important than he is," the Doctor said.
She fixed him with a stern look. "Remember what you told me earlier, when we were discussing Ida Scott?" she asked.
He winced, then nodded. "Yes, but - " he began again.
"Doctor, we've got to stop Ballademager. Think how many people he's harmed or who've died for his sake. I'll be fine now the Ood soldiers are out of it and I can't hear their chant."
"Chant?" he asked, looking surprised.
"It was like a call to arms or something," she told him. "All savage anger and a thumping beat."
"May I?" he asked, gesturing at her head. "There will probably be echoes still in your head."
"Okay."
He put his hands to her temples and closed his eyes as he reached into Martha's mind, then winced as the Ood chant echoed in his head in all its mind-numbing savagery. As he withdrew again he sensed something else in her mind, but it seemed to disappear like a will-o'-the-wisp when he tried to focus on it. Since he didn't want to make Martha feel any worse than she already did, he decided not to pursue it, but to wait until they were back aboard the TARDIS and she'd had some rest.
He let go of her head and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry you had to endure that," he told her softly. "I promise that I will teach you how to shield your mind against such things once we're out of here."
She hugged him tightly. "It's okay; I forgive you," she said. "Shouldn't we be getting over to the administration block?"
"We can spare a few more minutes before we move," he assured her, then bent his head to kiss her.
She felt his hand between her legs and started back abruptly, eyes wide. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "This is hardly the time or the place for you to get randy!"
"Trust me, Martha," he said quietly. "The endorphins that are released during orgasm will counteract the worst effects of the telepathic contact with the Ood."
She rolled her eyes. "You couldn't tell me that before you began?" she asked.
"Sorry." He began kissing her again, then unzipped her jeans and slipped his fingers into her knickers. As she clung to him, her lips pressed firmly against his while their tongues twisted and tangled together, he began to stroke her clit. Martha gasped and thrust against his hand as he expertly teased her to a climax, causing her to moan and shudder.
"Better?" he asked, ignoring her whimper as he pulled his hand free.
"Yes!" she exclaimed fervently, although her legs felt shaky.
"Good girl." He pulled up the zip on her jeans and gave her another quick kiss. "Time to go."
They worked their way around the perimeter of the complex until they reached the administration block. Everything there was quiet still, although looking back, Martha could see lights on in the accommodation blocks as people began their day.
The Doctor unlocked the door and they let themselves in, then headed towards Ballademager's ground floor office, which Ryder had told them was at the back of the building.
Martha was beginning to feel nervous about meeting Ballademager again: she knew he wasn't going to be happy at them thwarting him a second time, especially after they were responsible for him being arrested on Derillium. She just hoped that they'd be able to deal with him more swiftly on this occasion.
As she tried to put aside her worries she felt a jab of pain, as if someone had stabbed her mind, and she winced, wondering what had caused such a sharp sensation. She rubbed at her temples as the Doctor stopped outside the door to Ballademager's office, sonicked it, then opened it with a flourish.
"Would Madame care to step inside?" he asked, as if he was a well-bred butler.
She smiled, shaking her head a little, then stepped into the room, which was far more opulent than she'd have expected for an office. There were three leather chairs grouped around a large, leather-topped mahogany desk, which contained very little apart from some carved wooden figures, two white objects that resembled motorcycle helmets without visors, and the slimmest laptop she'd ever seen.
"Where's the keyboard?" she asked the Doctor as he lifted the lid and switched it on.
"There isn't one. It's got a touch pad." He gestured at the flat area where she'd expected to see the keyboard and watched as it lit up, illuminating a keyboard layout. He tapped at a key and it showed a different set of controls, across which his long slender fingers danced rapidly for a few moments.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Setting up a jamming signal to interfere with the communications system," he answered.
"And just why are you doing that?" asked a voice from the doorway.
Startled, Martha straightened up and turned from looking at the laptop's screen to see a familiar figure.
"You two!" exclaimed Ballademager, hectic spots of red appearing on his cheeks as he recognised them.
"Us two, yes, hello," answered the Doctor, waving cheerily at the other man while pulling off and pocketing his glasses.
"I thought I had seen the last of you," spat Ballademager.
"Nope, sorry. We're actually quite hard to get rid of, when we choose to be. Aren't we Martha?"
"Yes, we are," she agreed.
Ballademager tapped on his wrist communicator as he advanced into the room.
"That won't work," the Doctor reminded him. "I thought you were listening just now?"
"Clearly he wasn't paying attention," Martha commented, smiling sweetly at Ballademager's annoyed expression.
"Why are you here?" asked Ballademager in a low voice.
"To stop you, of course," answered the Doctor in an isn't-it-obvious tone. "What you're doing, turning the Ood into soldiers, is completely immoral and unjustifiable."
Ballademager snorted. "Of course it's justifiable! There's always a need for soldiers, especially with the Empire continuing to expand."
"But to turn sentient creatures into soldiers against their natural instincts is immoral," Martha said, feeling her anger rising in response to his casual dismissal of the rights of the Ood. She could also feel the beginnings of a headache developing and rubbed at her temples with her fingertips. When she saw the Doctor glance at her anxiously she summoned up a smile, knowing it was important for him to stay focused.
"At the same time that I was setting up the jamming signal, I unlocked all the doors on the Ood containers and locked all the doors on the staff accommodation blocks," the Time Lord said. "Which means the Ood, apart from the thirty soldiers, will be making good their escape, and the humans can do nothing to stop them. By the time you manage to get the doors open again, the Ood will be long gone."
"You'll die for this," snarled Ballademager, his face darkening with rage.
"Oh, I rather doubt that," answered the Doctor cheerfully. "You see, I've alerted the authorities and notified them of what was going on here - told them about four hours ago, actually, so there are already people on their way to deal with you and your staff."
"That won't stop me from killing you before they get here," answered Ballademager, with a slightly hysterical laugh.
"I am afraid I cannot allow you to kill Friends of the Ood, sir," said a new voice from the doorway.
Martha started, so surprised was she at the sudden appearance of Ood Sigma. The Doctor, on the other hand, seemed far from surprised, and she wondered if he'd somehow summoned the Ood, or if he'd come of his own accord.
Ballademager seemed completely astounded by the appearance of Ood Sigma. "Where did you spring from?" he demanded.
"I did not spring, sir, I walked." The Ood advanced further into the room until he was within arm's reach of the boss.
"And how exactly are you going to stop me?" asked Ballademager sneeringly.
"Like this, sir," answered the Ood.
"Ood Sigma, no!" shouted the Doctor as the Ood reached forward with his translator ball and placed it against Ballademager's head.
Martha gasped in shock as white light shot out of the ball and played across his forehead. Ballademager's eyes rolled up in his head, before he collapsed onto his shagpile carpet. She immediately rushed over and felt for a pulse.
"He's alive," she said, relieved, despite her intense dislike of the man and what he'd done.
"I did not wish him to kill you, Doctor, Martha," Ood Sigma said patiently. "I could not kill another, but he had to be stopped." He knelt beside Martha as he spoke and gave her an earnest look.
"We understand," she answered, reaching out and clasping his shoulder. "Thank you." She glanced up at the Doctor.
"Thank you, Ood Sigma. I'm sorry I doubted your intentions."
"Your doubt was understandable, sir."
There was a low rumble overhead and Martha looked up in wonder.
"I believe that's the authorities," the Doctor said, cocking his head to one side as he listened. "Martha, do you want to show Ood Sigma where the soldiers are being held, and I'll go and talk to the authorities?"
She nodded and he bent down, delving into Ballademager's inside jacket pocket. "Here. This keycard will get you into any building without me needing to override all the doors on the site."
She took the small rectangle of plastic from him, then allowed him to kiss her quickly.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. "You're looking a bit peaky."
"I've just got a headache," she answered.
"Hmm, that's probably a side effect of being subjected to all that telepathy earlier. You can have a nice long sleep when we get back to the TARDIS," he promised.
"Okay." She moved away and Ood Sigma followed her as she led the way to the building where the Ood soldiers were housed.
Martha let them in and waited while he hurried to look at his fellows who were still unconscious, although she thought that the first ones they'd sedated were beginning to stir.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Dr Ryder told us they'd been trained as soldiers and that Ballademager intended to see them fighting today. Sedating them seemed the best way to ensure that didn't happen."
"I understand, Martha Jones. You followed the wisest course of action."
"I hope so." She rubbed at her temples again; her headache seemed to have intensified. "I was wondering if they would revert to their natural state once they've got the drugs out of their system."
"By natural state you refer to Ood like myself?" asked Ood Sigma courteously.
She frowned, wondering what else he thought she meant. "Yes."
"But this is not our natural state," he told her. "I am a processed Ood. Let me show you the Ood in their natural state."
"Okay." She followed him, puzzled and wondering, out of the building and across the complex to another building, where she unlocked the door with the borrowed keycard.
They'd only walked a few steps inside when Martha started, realising that she could hear singing, but it was in her head, like the soldiers' battle chant had been. This song was different to that one: it was filled with pain and misery, its notes harsh and mournful.
"What is that?" she gasped, clutching at her head.
"I am sorry, Martha Jones. That is the Ood song of captivity." He took her hand and led her forwards to a cage against the far wall. In it were a group of Ood crouching in a circle, all of them holding their hands cupped in front of them.
"What are they holding?" she asked, gritting her teeth against the painful song in her head.
One of the Ood looked over at her and, seeing Ood Sigma at her side, lifted one hand away to show her what she instantly recognised as a small brain.
"A second brain?" she asked, horror and disbelief making her temporarily forget the intensifying pain in her own head. "Wait. You're telling me that the Ood, in their natural state, have an external hind brain." She frowned in thought, remembering what she'd been told earlier. "It works something like the amygdala in humans, processing emotion and memory, but its removal makes an Ood subservient." She gave Ood Sigma a questioning look and he nodded.
"You are correct, Martha Jones."
She felt appalled; she'd thought it was bad enough that the humans had given the Ood the translator balls, thereby suppressing their natural means of communication, but this was far, far worse.
"We have to tell the Doctor," she said. "It's important that everyone knows about this."
She got to her feet and started towards the door, then staggered and fell to her knees, as a sharp stab of pain shot through her head.
Ood Sigma was at her side instantly, trying to help her back to her feet.
"Doctor," she gasped. "Go, tell, please." Then she blacked out.
* * * * * *
Martha remained unconscious while Ood Sigma fetched the Doctor and Dr Ryder, who'd been talking to the authorities at the Time Lord's behest. She was unaware of the Doctor trying to enter her mind so that he could block the Ood song of captivity, or that he failed to get in because he met a yawning pit of darkness guarded by something that shifted form every time he tried to look at it: first Davros in his chair, then a Judoon, then a Dalek.
She had no knowledge of the frantic ride on a snowmobile which the Doctor borrowed from Ryder, Ood Sigma riding pillion with Martha cradled in his arms as the vehicle shot back to the TARDIS. She also missed the Doctor's hasty farewell to Ood Sigma: the Time Lord being anxious to get them into the Vortex where he hoped that he and the ship would be able to reach her mind.
He was glad that she was unconscious while he and the TARDIS fought to gain control of her mind, the two of them communicating in symbols and images rather than words, which were too slow and clumsy for what they needed to do. As he and the ship worked he was appalled to realise that the mind-form that was preventing him from helping Martha had been created by their baby in a terrified reaction to the anger, pain and misery expressed in the telepathic Ood songs she had heard. It was the TARDIS who lead him back to the baby's mind, following the strong yet tiny link between mother and child, a boy, he now discovered.
Ship and Time Lord worked hard to soothe the baby, to calm and comfort him, while also trying to confine the baby's mind to a smaller and smaller area of Martha's, so that he didn't overwhelm her. But it was like trying to hold back the sea with a sponge: the child's nascent, untrained telepathy was too wild, and he reacted violently to the efforts of the Doctor, seeming to interpret his and the TARDIS' intervention as a further attack rather than an attempt to assist. If Martha's and the baby's lives hadn't been at stake, the Time Lord would have been fascinated by the way the child took bits of the Ood songs and sent them back at his father; as it was, though, there was a danger that his telepathy was going overwhelm Martha's mind to the extent that they would both die before he could be delivered.
When she came round, five hours after she had collapsed, the Doctor gave her a shaky smile. "Hello." He leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss across her lips.
"Hello," she rasped. She looked at his worried expression. "What happened?"
"What can you remember?"
She frowned, wincing at the ache in her head. "Ood Sigma took me to see some unprocessed Ood," she said.
The Doctor nodded, then rubbed a hand over his face and she wondered if he'd been crying, his eyes were so red-rimmed. "The Ood song of captivity was too much, on top of the battle chant, for your unshielded mind. You collapsed."
She looked up at him, noting a slight hesitation in his manner. "There's something else. What aren't you telling me?"
"The baby was also affected," he said quietly. "The biggest side effect of the telepathic incursions is that they awoke our baby's own telepathic abilities. He - "
"He?" she asked, eyes widening in surprise.
He nodded. "He shouldn't even be able to touch his mind to yours yet, but the strength of the Ood telepathy was such that he not only touched yours, but was reacting to their pain and anger, and he was blocking me from your mind."
Martha stared at him, feeling numb. Her own child was hurting her - it seemed incomprehensible.
He swallowed hard. "There's more," he said.
"What?" she asked fearfully. His expression was so distraught that she felt frightened.
"It's taken five hours for me and the TARDIS to overcome him sufficiently to allow you to wake up." As he spoke she realised just how exhausted he looked. "And we're barely holding the baby back. He's only going to get stronger as he grows, to the extent that he's going to overwhelm your mind, and you'll be left as little more than a vegetable."
"Oh god!" Martha began to sob as she realised the full implication of his words.
He reached for her, tears in his own eyes. "I'm sorry, Martha, but I'm going to have to terminate the pregnancy, or he will kill you."
"You can't!" she cried. "You can't kill my baby! Please, don't kill my baby! Please don't!" She thumped his shoulder, although there was no strength in her blow.
He caught her hand in his and gently pulled her closer, holding her as she sobbed unrestrained into his neck. He was glad that she couldn't see his face, and how much it had hurt when she said 'my baby' where before she'd always said 'our'. He understood why she was claiming possession when he was threatening their child, but it still hurt.
"Please Doctor, please don't," she begged, choking out the words.
"Martha, I have to, I'm sorry. If there was any way to stop him from overwhelming your mind, I wouldn't need to do this. But the TARDIS and I haven't been able to find a way - we're literally only just holding him at bay now. If I don't do it, you will both die, and I'm not prepared to lose both of you."
"But can't you deliver him prematurely?" she asked between sobs, then realised that the baby probably wouldn't survive this early in the pregnancy. "Can't you teach me how to stop him overwhelming my mind, please?"
She looked up at him and saw him bite his lip before he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't. It would take too long when your telepathic ability is still mostly untrained and his isn't even fully formed yet."
They clung together, Martha still sobbing. After a few minutes her exhaustion began to catch up with her and her sobs became quieter. The Doctor lowered her back to lie on the bed. They held hands tightly and she could see tear tracks on his face as she looked up at him. Part of her felt that she was being selfish for reacting so violently to his news: he'd been so happy since they'd discovered her pregnancy, so full of plans of places to go and things to do once the baby was born. She felt guilty for not considering his feelings as well as her own, and she wondered if he blamed her for the baby's telepathic abilities being woken: if she hadn't insisted that they help the Ood, none of this would have happened. She couldn't regret helping the Ood, but she blamed herself for not being more careful.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"For what?" he asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
"For not taking better care of myself today."
"Oh Martha! This isn't your fault. If anything, it's mine. I should have made sure that you knew how to protect your mind before we ever set foot outside the TARDIS, once I knew of your increased receptivity to telepathy."
"But - " she began.
He laid a finger against her lips. "Shh, don't," he said softly. He moved his hand to cup her cheek, gazing down at her. "Martha, do you understand what I'm going to do, and why?"
She gave a weak nod, her hand coming up to clasp his wrist. "I don't want you to do it, but I am a doctor, and I know very well that sometimes the lesser of two evils is the only choice you can make for the sake of the patient's health."
He gave a tight nod, swallowing hard. "Thank you." He leaned forward to kiss her carefully, and she felt his fingers at her temples, then consciousness slipped away again.
The Doctor rested his forehead against hers, trying to steady himself to do what he needed to do. He could feel the TARDIS still holding the baby's mind in a tight cocoon that gave him nothing to feed on: like starving a flame of oxygen.
He pulled himself stiffly to his feet and crossed to the sink, washing his hands, then pulling on a pair of latex gloves, before taking up the first needle to give Martha the necessary injection. The drug would block the enzyme that was necessary for DNA synthesis, thereby inhibiting the growth of the placental cells that allowed the baby to continue developing.
He paused for a moment to swallow and blink back tears, then he lifted the needle and gave Martha the injection. He would follow it up with a second drug within the next twenty-four hours, but for now he would let her sleep. He just hoped she wouldn't hate him afterwards.
* * * * * *
When Martha next awoke, she instantly knew by the lack of pressure in her head that the baby was gone. She lay still, her eyes closed, as she struggled to grasp the thought and make sense of it. She was so busy trying that the Doctor's cool fingers clasping her hand startled her; she gasped in surprise as her eyes flew open and she choked back a sob.
"Martha." He spoke softly and she felt his mind brush gently against hers.
She took in his reddened eyes and immediately pushed herself up, wanting to comfort him. "I'm sorry," she sobbed as she clung to him. "I'm sorry we lost him. I'm sorry I - "
"Shh, shh." He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed and tried to apologise for something that wasn't even her fault. While she had slept, he'd come to the conclusion that just as it had been a quirk of fate that she'd fallen pregnant, so, too, it was a quirk of fate that they'd lost the baby.
"Martha, this isn't your fault," he told her, stroking her hair and neck. "You mustn't blame yourself for what happened. Please, don't blame yourself."
He kissed the top of her head, and when she pulled back to look at him, he kissed her brow, and then her lips. This isn't your fault. Don't blame yourself, because I don't. And be assured that I love you, Martha Jones. He spoke to her mind to mind, remembering their conversation about not being able to lie when their minds were linked.
Aloud, he asked "Do you want to see him?"
He felt her stiffen in surprise for a moment, then she pushed herself away from him to look at his face again.
"I thought we could bury him in one of the TARDIS gardens," he said hesitantly, "unless you want to take him to Earth?"
Martha shook her head. "No, I'd rather he was buried here."
He nodded and she tried to dry her eyes, glad of the box of tissues on the bedside table.
"Do you want to have a bath first?" he asked. "I tried to clean you up afterwards, but - "
"I'd like a bath," she said. She looked down at her hands as she twisted a soggy tissue into pieces.
"What is it?" the Doctor asked gently, clasping her hands in his.
"I think - I'll need your help," she said, and he realised that she was embarrassed to ask.
"Of course." He got to his feet, pushing aside the chair he'd been sitting in while he waited for her to wake, then he helped her out of the bed.
Martha's legs felt like jelly as they made their way the short distance across the room to the ensuite bathroom: she felt as if someone had put her through a wringer, leaving her feeling as limp as a rag.
In the bathroom, the Doctor filled the bath, then helped her out of the pyjamas he'd put her into once he'd moved her from the Med Bay to their bedroom. He took off his jacket, then rolled up his sleeves and helped Martha to step into the bath, before kneeling beside it to wash her. He noticed that she wouldn't meet his eyes and wondered if she was embarrassed about him seeing her naked, which she hadn't been before, even in their first days together. He knew that he would have to find ways to reassure her that he still found her desirable and that losing their baby hadn't made her any less attractive as a woman.
He also wondered if their relationship would survive their loss: Martha had fallen pregnant so soon after they'd become a couple that they'd begun talking of themselves as a family before they had really got used to the idea of being a pair.
Martha allowed the Doctor to bathe her without really registering what he was doing. She was struggling desperately to make sense of the way in which her life had been turned upside down for the second time in the space of a month. She didn't want to accept that her baby was dead: it seemed a monstrous thing to believe, but at the same time, she knew it was true. And while she also knew that even among humans a miscarriage was not unusual, and a half human, half Time Lord baby was, if anything, more at risk of early termination than a purely human one, she still felt it was her fault. She kept thinking that if only she hadn't done this or that thing, things would have turned out differently. Her mind circled like a shark around the various things she'd done during their visit to the Oodsphere, and she wished that she could go back and change them.
At one point she even opened her mouth to ask the Doctor to take them back in time by 24 hours, but she closed it again, the request unuttered: she knew perfectly well that such a thing was not possible. And even if it were, there was no guarantee that another situation might not arise that would lead to her losing the baby in some other way.
She wished that they had made a decision about what to call their child. They'd come up with a variety of male and female names, both human and Gallifreyan, including names that meant hope, strength, joy, beginning and gift, but they'd put off making a decision. Martha had wanted to pick a name soon, obscurely feeling that it would be wrong for the baby to be born without one, but the Doctor had procrastinated, saying there was no rush. She now wondered if he'd put off the decision because he hadn't quite believed the child would be carried to full term. He probably had a far better idea of the risks inherent in a human-Time Lord hybrid than she did, for all it had never happened before.
The Doctor finished washing Martha, then helped her back out of the bath. "Do you need help getting dressed again?" he asked as he began to dry her body.
"Yes please. I feel like my limbs are made of jelly."
He nodded in understanding, then led her, wrapped in a bathrobe, back into their room. He wondered if she would flinch if he caressed her while he dressed her; he wanted her to be reassured that he still loved her, without making her think that he was ignoring what had happened. Then he realised the only way to find out was to try it, and he picked up her bra and held it for her as she slipped her arms through the straps. He reached around to fasten it for her, then dipped his head to place a gentle kiss on the top of her breast, above the pale yellow cotton.
Martha started, clearly surprised, and he looked up at her, waiting to see what her reaction would be. She stared at him, tears in her eyes, but she didn't step back or push him away, so he ducked his head again and kissed the top of her other breast.
He held her knickers for her to step into, then slid them up her legs, bending his head to kiss the tattoo on her stomach. Between each item of clothing he helped her into, he kissed her somewhere on her bare skin until she was dressed again.
Then he held her shoulders and looked into her face, holding her gaze with his. "I want you to know that you are still as beautiful and desirable in my eyes as you've ever been, and I want you to know that I still love you and want you, but we'll take things at a pace that's comfortable to you."
"Thank you." Her voice was hoarse from crying earlier, but she seemed relieved, and he was glad that he hadn't upset her.
He pulled her into an embrace, and they held each other for several minutes before the Doctor took her hand and led her to the Med Bay, where he showed her the tiny casket the TARDIS had provided for them, their son's body inside.
"He's bigger than I expected," she said quietly.
"That's his Gallifreyan genes," he told her. "Our children develop faster than human babies." The Doctor watched her as she looked at their baby, taking in his tiny fingers and toes, with their minute nails, and the slight fuzz of hair on his head. His skin was paler than hers, but still more brown than white. From head to toe he was barely two inches long.
"He's beautiful," she whispered.
"Just like his mother," answered the Doctor.
She ducked her head, embarrassed, and waited while the Doctor sealed the lid on the casket, then used his sonic screwdriver to inscribe on the lid, in English and Gallifreyan, the date and the words A beloved son, lost to Time.
He gave her the casket to carry, then took her free hand in his to lead her through the corridors to their favourite garden. They'd visited it often during the month they had spent aboard the TARDIS after discovering Martha was pregnant: they'd talked, read to each other, had picnics and made love there, enjoying each other's companionship.
"I thought we could bury him among the poppies," he said, "if that's okay with you?"
She nodded and followed him over to the bed of wild poppies; she held the casket while the Doctor dug a small hole about a foot down. They knelt down, side by side, each wrapping an arm around the other, then they lowered the casket into the hole together. Martha picked up the spade and untidily shovelled some earth over the top, then the Doctor filled in the rest.
"Do you want to say anything?" he asked.
She nodded. "My dear child, I love you and I will never forget you."
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she began to cry again, silent tears sliding down her face, before he spoke. "My dear son, we will remember you."
He led Martha back through the corridors to the kitchen where he got her to sit down while he made them both a meal. Then he carried her back to their room and helped her change back into her pyjamas before tucking her into bed.
"You're not going, are you?" she asked, catching hold of his hand as he got up.
"Only to wash up," he answered, "and then I'll be back."
"Okay."
He suspected she'd be asleep before he returned, but he had no intention of refusing to come back, and he would be glad of the rest himself.
The Doctor went back to the kitchen and tried to focus on simply washing up, but his mind wandered away: he tried not to remember having to deliver his dead son, how he'd wanted to hear the child cry as he left the warmth of his mother's body, how he'd had to clean up both Martha and the baby afterwards. Or how he'd nearly broken down when the TARDIS had provided the tiny casket for his son to be buried in; even the ship had been affected, her hum turning to a mournful dirge as soon as the baby had been delivered.
With Gallifrey and his own people gone he'd never expected to be a father again, and the discovery that Martha was pregnant, after the initial shock had worn off, had been a happy surprise, but at the back of his mind there had been that little niggle of doubt about whether the baby would survive. Not that he'd expected this twist of circumstances, but he had wondered about Martha miscarrying because he wasn't sure a human-Time Lord baby would be genetically viable, even as he'd longed for the child to live.
He wondered if she would want to try again after some time had passed; if she did, he would do his utmost to ensure that he kept both her and the baby safe and well. He tipped away the washing up water with a heavy sigh: there was still no guarantee that his relationship with Martha would even survive this trauma, so he really shouldn't be thinking too far ahead just yet. In the meantime, she was in need of his support and comfort, and he couldn't give it to her if he was lurking about in the kitchen. He dried his hands quickly, then headed back to their bedroom where he found her still awake, but obviously fighting her body's need for sleep to wait for his return.
"Sorry," he whispered softly, changing swiftly into his pyjamas and then sliding into the bed next to her.
She murmured something he couldn't distinguish, and he kissed her hair then waited for her to snuggle up, sliding an arm around her shoulders as she settled her head on his shoulder. Moments later she was fast asleep.
* * * * * *
The next few weeks weren't easy for either of them. Martha spent the first few days mostly sleeping, with occasional bouts of crying. The Doctor cooked her favourite things to try to get her to eat, and lay beside her, holding her hand and singing lullabies to her as she slept.
One day she asked him what had happened to Ballademager, and he told her about his arrest and subsequent trial.
"He's in prison," the Doctor said. "He'll be there for the rest of his life." He noted how relieved she looked, and felt pleased he'd had that good news to give her.
More than once during the following weeks he slipped away to the Control Room, relying on the TARDIS to let him know if Martha was waking, so that he could read her journal. He quickly found that he couldn't read too many entries at one go because he grew too angry about the destruction caused by the Master to his adopted planet, and the things Martha had to endure upset him a good deal. He wept more than once over her accounts of dealing with radiation sickness patients - many of whom she could do nothing more for than give them a fatal dose of morphine to end their suffering. He rejoiced, though, over her accounts of the help she was given and the bravery of those who took grave risks to ensure she was able to continue her journey.
Her account was presented in a straight forward manner and with as much objectivity as she could manage. He couldn't help thinking that anyone who didn't know Martha might find them clinical, but the lists of those who'd died helping her, with as many personal details as she'd been able to gather, showed that she had cared about each person.
He remembered the way that so many of the people they'd encountered while she had been travelling with him had seemed to gravitate towards her. In conversations afterwards she would often let slip some small detail that revealed how much she'd learned from the people they met, and how often they confided in her.
However, the Doctor's confidence in Martha's ability to get through the loss of their baby grew with each new set of entries he read. She had survived the year of the Master's reign over Earth with her spirit still intact, and he was sure she would survive this too.
* * * * * *
One morning, a month after they'd buried their baby, Martha woke up and said she wanted to get dressed. He gave her a smile of pure delight, and she instantly felt selfish.
"I'm sorry," she said as he helped her to the bathroom.
"For what?" he asked, surprised.
"For being selfish, for shutting you out, and making you run around after me."
"Martha, of course you weren't being selfish. And I didn't feel shut out. You need time to grieve, I know that: losing a baby is one of the most painful experiences a woman can have."
He pulled her into an embrace, stroking her back and humming a lullaby.
"What is that?" she asked. "I've heard it before."
"Probably, it's a Gallifreyan lullaby," he answered, "I've been humming them to you while you were sleeping."
"Oh." She pulled away from him and began to unbutton her pyjama top. "Will you teach it to me, please?"
"Of course." He ran the bath as she undressed, and then helped her into it.
"Will you join me?" she asked, her expression shy but hopeful.
"I'd love to." The Doctor stripped off his own pyjamas quickly, then climbed in with her, feeling glad that she was feeling comfortable enough for them to do this again.
They washed each other, both being careful and tender, then he washed her hair for her. Once they were both dry again, he brushed Martha's hair, kneeling behind her on their bed.
"You'd make quite a good lady's maid," she observed once he'd finished putting it up into his favourite spiky do.
He grinned at her. "Why thank you ma'am," he simpered, in a silly falsetto.
She shook her head at him, but he saw her smile briefly and felt elated that she could make a joke. He didn't believe that she was over their loss already, but he felt it was a positive step forward.
Martha took his hand and they made their way to the kitchen where, at her insistence, they made breakfast together.
"How are you feeling?" he asked as they sat down to eat. "Physically, I mean."
"Tired and sluggish," she answered. "I need some exercise."
"We could go for a walk in the Arboretum," he suggested.
She nodded. "I thought I might go for a swim too."
"All right then, a walk and swim between breakfast and lunch."
He smiled and she smiled back: it was a bit brittle and uncertain, he noticed, but he didn't mention it. He was just glad that she felt up to getting up; he'd wondered several times over the last month, whether to take the TARDIS back to Earth, to risk another slap from Francine Jones, so that Martha could be with her mother. In the end, though, he'd decided to remain in the Vortex, not because he feared Francine's wrath, but because he wasn't sure if it was what Martha would want to do.
They finished their breakfast and washed up, then the Doctor offered her his arm and they headed to the Arboretum.
"I've lost track, with sleeping so much, how long is it since - I mean, how long - "
"A month," he broke in, not wanting her to flounder over how to word the question.
"I'm sorry."
He stopped walking abruptly. "Martha, will you promise me something?" he asked, his expression serious, almost stern.
She swallowed and nodded, wondering what promise he wanted her to make.
"Promise you won't keep apologising," he said. "This is a situation in which you are guilty of only one thing, and that is having a perfectly normal reaction to the death of our child. If anyone needs to apologise, it's me: I didn't look after you and the baby properly. If I had, there wouldn't have been any need for me to - "
She noticed the way his voice almost broke on his last few words and she felt a surge of emotion; turning she clung to him, struggling not to cry again.
"I promise," she whispered. She was remembering the way he'd blamed himself for destroying his own people, and knew that he wouldn't blame himself any less harshly for the death of their child.
They held each other for several minutes, then he led her across to a bench the TARDIS provided, and they sat down.
"Do you want to go home?" he asked.
"If you think it would be better if I went," she began, stiffly, then caught sight of his shocked expression and realised that she'd misunderstood his suggestion.
"I meant, would it help you to go and see your family." He spoke as stiffly as she had and she thought his eyes looked darker than she'd ever seen them before.
Martha shivered involuntarily. "I'm sorry, I misunderstood," she whispered, feeling tears starting afresh.
"Yes, you did," he answered.
She realised that he was hurt that she'd thought he was trying to send her home, and she knew that if she wasn't careful their loss would drive them apart, rather than bringing them closer together, and she knew she didn't want that.
She reached out and clasped his hands which were twisted together in his lap. "Forgive me, please?" she asked softly. "My emotions are all over the place and I can't quite think straight right now."
His expression softened immediately and he pulled his hands free of hers to lift her onto his lap. "Of course I'll forgive you, and will you forgive me too? We're in the same boat, here, and although I've been both a father and a grandfather already, I still wanted us to have a baby together because it would have been our child. And you, Martha Jones, have come to mean a great deal to me, more than I ever expected or would have guessed was possible a year ago."
He kissed her temple, then spoke into her mind. We're in this together, you and I, and I don't want to lose you. That's why I did what I did, to save you. Because I'm not ready to lose you yet, though I know I will eventually. I will do everything I can to help you through this, but I need you to help me, too, Martha. You are my Doctor after all.
She turned her head and kissed him properly for the first time since the Oodsphere, letting him feel the love she felt for him but couldn't currently find the words for.
After a few minutes he groaned softly and she sensed, through their mental link, his growing arousal and she pulled away quickly.
"I - uh - " Martha found herself bereft of words as she caught sight of the desire in his eyes. She moved off the Doctor's lap and sat beside him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
"I'm sorry, Martha," he said softly, taking her hands in his, copying her gesture of a few moments ago.
"It's - " She swallowed. "It's okay," she assured him shakily. "Your reaction is a perfectly natural one. I didn't mean to lead you on."
"You didn't," he answered, still speaking quietly. While they had been mentally linked he'd sensed her own arousal, but he'd also felt her guilt and confusion about her desire. "Come on, let's go and have that swim."
She gave a small nod and allowed him to pull her up from the bench. He embraced her briefly, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead, then they walked through the Arboretum and through the corridors to the swimming pool.
Once they'd changed into their swimwear Martha could see that the Doctor was still semi-aroused and she felt a fresh wave of guilt, both for kissing him and for desiring him: she wanted him, but at the same time she felt it was wrong. More than once during the past month she'd woken up to find his arousal pressed against her body as he slept curled around her. Each time he'd woken soon afterwards and disappeared into the bathroom, and she had remembered how much she had liked watching him climax, but she'd felt no answering stir of desire in herself.
Shaking her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts, she lowered herself into the pool and stood for a few moments, letting her body adjust to being in the water. The Doctor had already jumped in, and he swam over to join her, then offered her his hands. She took hold of them and allowed him to pull her off her feet as he began to walk backwards down the pool while she kicked.
"Okay?" he asked and she nodded, so he let go of her hands and watched as she doggy-paddled past him. He caught her up half way down the pool and they swam several lengths together before Martha began to tire from the unaccustomed exercise.
"Do you want to get out?" he asked when he noticed she was starting to weary.
"No. I think I'll just float for a bit, if you don't mind?"
"Of course not." He leaned against the side of the pool, then held out his hands again and she clasped them, then kicked up her feet to lie back, her eyes closed.
The Doctor held her at arms' length for a while, then slowly drew her body closer to his until the top of her head just touched his body. He clasped both her hands in his left, then put the fingers of his right hand to her temple, making a mental link between them. He began to hum a Gallifreyan lullaby to her and he felt her relaxing still further as he sent a series of soothing images into her mind.
Do you want a nap before we have some lunch? he asked when he sensed she was coming close to sleep.
Might be a good idea, she answered dreamily.
He took his hand from her head and she opened her eyes, slightly startled. "Sorry." He held her as she grounded herself again, then helped her out of the pool, catching up a towel to rub her dry. He helped her out of her wet bikini and finished drying her off, then dried himself while Martha dressed again.
"Come on, Dr Jones," he said, picking her up once he was also fully clothed. "You look as if you're barely staying awake"
"I am a bit sleepy," she murmured, settling her head in the crook of his neck as he carried her back to their room.
He murmured a quiet word of thanks to the TARDIS when she rearranged her rooms so that he didn't have to carry her far. He helped her change into her pyjamas and tucked her into bed.
"Are you going?"
"I thought you might prefer to nap on your own," he answered.
"I'd rather you stayed," she said quietly.
"Okay." He changed into his own pyjamas, then climbed into bed next to her. She immediately turned over and snuggled up beside him with a murmur of pleasure before slipping into sleep.
As she slept Martha dreamed of the many times the Doctor had made love to her and she woke abruptly an hour later with her right hand resting between her thighs. She opened her eyes to find the Time Lord watching her, his own arousal evident in his face and his body. He reached out and gently placed his hand over hers, lightly resting it there.
"There's nothing wrong with becoming aroused," he said softly. "You don't have to feel guilty about it."
"I know I shouldn't," she answered.
"Do you want to make love?" he asked. "If you're worried about becoming pregnant again, there are condoms in the Med Bay - Jack left some behind."
"Trust Jack," she said with a small smile.
"It's up to you, Martha. I'm not going to force you into anything if you feel you're not ready. But if you are ready, you don't have to deny yourself."
"I think I am," she whispered.
He gave her a smile and leaned forward to brush a kiss against her lips, then raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to go and get the condoms?"
She gave a quick nod, so he rolled off the bed and hurried away, returning so fast that Martha thought the TARDIS must have done a room shuffle again for him.
He put the box on the bedside table, then climbed onto the bed again and began to kiss her and caress her gently. Although he ached with desire, he was determined to go no faster than she was comfortable with, and he let her decide when they should start taking off their pyjamas.
Eventually they were both naked and the Doctor grabbed the packet from the bedside table, offering it to her. She accepted it and took out a condom, then carefully rolled it down his length, before moving to lie on top of him. He gently stroked her back, waiting for her to make the next move and after a few moments, she guided his erection into her body.
"Okay?" he asked softly. She nodded and he kissed her deeply before beginning to thrust gently. She watched his face, just as she always had, although her own orgasm began just before his and her eyes closed momentarily as he began to climax. Afterwards she lay supine on top of him, and he stroked her back again until he became aware she'd dropped off to sleep again. He smiled and carefully rolled over so that she lay beside him, then he removed the condom before spooning up behind her.
"Sleep well, Martha Jones," he whispered, then closed his own eyes. He hoped that she wouldn't regret what they'd just done, and that it would be another step forward on her road to recovery.
Two months later
Francine Jones watched proudly as her daughter accepted her graduation scroll from the Principal, then shook his hand. "She looks so happy," she murmured to the tall man at her side.
"Yes, she does," he answered, not taking his eyes off Martha's diminutive figure as she crossed the stage and walked down the steps towards the main body of the hall.
"Thank you for coming with her today," Francine said. "Clive and the others were disappointed they couldn't be here too."
The Doctor glanced at her. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world, any world," he told her. "She worked hard for this and I'm probably as proud of her as you are."
She smiled at him. "When will you be off again?"
"Trying to get rid of me, Mrs Jones?" he asked lightly.
She saw the concern in his eyes, despite the fact he was trying to hide it, and reached out to put a hand on his arm. "I'm not," she assured him. "You'll always be welcome in my home."
"Thank you." He reached up and patted her hand a little awkwardly. "I'm not sure when we'll be going. It's up to Martha, but I think she'd like to stick around for a few days."
"You two seem much closer than you were before," she observed. She noted the look of alarm that briefly flashed across his face. "It's okay. I'm not going to slap you."
He gave a shaky laugh. "That's a relief. I'd hate to cause a scene at Martha's graduation." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "We are closer," he admitted. "Your daughter has come to mean a great deal to me, Mrs Jones."
She nodded and he suddenly felt certain that she had expected that answer. "Look after her, please," she said. "I know very well that she can look after herself, and that she's strong and brave, but promise you'll look after her for me."
The Doctor swallowed, then nodded. "I promise."
"Thank you."
He thought back over the last two months, recalling the way he and Martha had worked hard to maintain their relationship after losing their baby. They had some difficult moments, particularly when they'd ended up in a war zone on Speranza, and found a hospital full of war orphans who were suffering from malnutrition owing to food supplies not getting through. He'd worried Martha would be too upset to deal with the situation, but he'd quickly found he'd misjudged her, and she proved as brilliant as he'd hoped, looking after the children while he went off to fetch supplies and more staff for the hospital.
They'd also enjoyed some moments of quiet relaxation, visiting various Nebulae and other astronomical phenomena, or simply spending time together while the TARDIS sat idly in the Vortex. She had talked regularly with her mother, but whenever he'd suggested that they visit Francine, Martha had put it off until Mrs Jones mentioned that the details of the graduation ceremony had come through.
He smiled at Martha as she joined them once the ceremony was over. "Congratulations, Dr Jones," he said, putting considerable emphasis on her title.
"Thank you." She hugged them both in turn, then slipped her arms through theirs. "I could murder a cuppa," she told Francine. "And there's something I want to talk to you about."
The Doctor stiffened beside her. It's time she knew, Martha told him.
Very well.
He wished he had the nerve to flee back to the TARDIS, but he knew that facing Martha's wrath, if he did that, would be no easier than facing Francine's. He wondered if he'd still be welcome in Mrs Jones' home once she knew the full details of how close he and Martha had become.
He swallowed and found a smile. You realise I may have to regenerate after this? he asked, then grimaced when Martha's soft laughter filled his head.
I'll still love you, she assured him.
I just hope I'm ginger next time.
He slid into Francine's car with a fatalistic feeling, deciding he'd rather face an army of Judoon than one angry mother.