Broken - Chapter Six: Memories (6 / 7)
Title: Broken - Chapter Six: Memories (6 / 7)
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Tenth Doctor/Martha, OCs
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Season 3 (Set in a post-S3 AU)
Summary: Travelling with the Doctor is always an adventure, but sometimes the adventures are not fun.
Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Doctor Who" and all that jazz…
Warning: There are going to be descriptions of torture.
Author Notes: This is going to be a lengthy story. It's a follow up to the Celebrating Martha's Birthday series and opens about 6 months after Martha agreed to travel with the Doctor again. The story will make use of flashbacks to describe Ten and Martha's adventures during those 6 months. The story is set on Meta Sigmafolio, the planet to which Ten offered to take Martha to see "a burst of starfire like oil on water" at the end of "The Last of the Time Lords" - so I've created some original characters and an alien culture for them.
Chapter One: Smith and Jones Again
Chapter Two: Field Testing
Chapter Three: The Scientific Method
Chapter Four: Warrior
Chapter Five: Waking and Sleeping
~~~~~~
The Doctor slept for several hours without having any more nightmares. Martha remained awake, working out a routine for the Doctor's recovery; he needed exercise, sleep and encouragement to talk because, alien or not, she was quite sure that it would do him no good to bottle up what had happened.
When he woke again she suggested lunch and he agreed. "Do you want me to leave you to get dressed?" she asked lightly.
"Do you mind?" he asked anxiously.
"I do mind, but I understand." She kissed him quickly on the cheek, then picked up her own clothes and left him. He watched her go, one finger resting on his cheek where she'd kissed him. She was an astonishing woman and he realised he was very lucky to have her with him now. If anyone could get him through this it was Doctor Martha Jones. He dressed slowly, wishing he didn't feel like he'd just gone ten rounds with a Judoon. He really needed to sort out an exercise program - Tai Chi would be a good place to start, then, if Martha was up for it, aikido again.
He finished dressing, hesitating over whether or not to wear a tie, then decided against it. He doubted he'd be going anywhere for a day or two, so there was no real need to wear one. He headed to the kitchen where he found Martha making a Spanish omelette. He sniffed appreciatively and she smiled at him. "There's salad stuff in the fridge if you feel like making some."
"OK." He started getting out the salad things, then saw a sheet of paper lying on the table and turned it around to read:
Prescription: Doctor, The To be taken daily
90 minutes exercise - recommend Tai Chi and swimming, Tai Chi and Aikido later
Breakfast
Talking time - with Martha and/or the TARDIS
Lunch
Afternoon nap - as required
R&R time - to be determined by the patient (recommend reading, walking in the Arboretum/gardens initially)
Dinner
R&R time - to be determined by the patient (suggest watching movies)
Sleep
It was signed at the bottom with a small flourish: Doctor Martha Jones.
Martha kept her back to the Doctor as he read her prescription, leaving him the space to read and digest it. He stepped up behind her a moment later and gave her a brief hug. "Thank you, Doctor Jones."
"Is that OK?"
He nodded, then went back to the table and began making the salad, then got out some bread and a jug of fruit juice, before beginning to lay the table. Shortly afterwards Martha served up the omelette and they helped themselves to salad and bread.
"We're going to have to use some of that talking time to sort out my memory," the Doctor observed. She looked up, arching an eyebrow in enquiry as she ate. "I've got some gaps in my memories - a side effect of those drugs, I suspect. And there are some things that I remember that I'm not sure are real memories, I think they're drug-induced."
"OK. Do you want to make a start on that this afternoon?"
He nodded. "The sooner, the better, I think." He changed the subject then, asking if she'd spoken to her mother lately, and she assured him she had phoned her mum earlier.
After they'd washed up, Martha looked at him expectantly. "Where do you want to do this?"
"In the library." The Doctor led them through the corridors to one of Martha's favourite rooms in the TARDIS; she loved to roam the shelves, browsing the books from different periods of Earth's history, and those the Doctor had gathered from across the universe during his travels. Today, though, they headed for one of the big leather sofas that were situated at intervals throughout the vast room. Martha sat down with her back against the arm and crossed her legs. The Doctor sat down beside her, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
"Where do you want to start?"
"With Lazarus. In my nightmares I killed him, but not before he killed you - I don't know what happened in the bell tower.
"I'll show you." She took his left hand in hers and guided it to her temple, holding his long fingers steady as he closed his eyes, then she closed her own and remembered.
Southwark Cathedral, London
"Leave him, Lazarus!" commanded Martha, her attention fixed on the other man. "He's old and bitter. I thought you had a taste for fresher meat?"
"Martha, no!" The Doctor watched, horrified, as Martha ran towards the stairs, Tish close behind.
"What are you doing?" exclaimed Martha. She'd expected her sister to stay with the Doctor, not follow her.
"Keeping you out of trouble," Tish answered, very much the big sister for once.
"Doctor, the tower!" Martha shouted as she and Tish began to hurry up the stairs. There was a snarling sound behind them.
"Did you hear that?" asked Tish worriedly.
"He's changed," Martha answered. "Keep moving, we've got to lead him up."
Suddenly they heard the Doctor shout "Martha?"
She stepped over to an arch in the gallery and looked down at the Doctor, her hands resting on the stonework on either side of the arch. His anxiety was plain even at this height. "Doctor!" she called.
"Take him to the top, the very top of the bell tower," he shouted. "Do you hear me?"
"Up to the top," she agreed. Tish tapped her on the back and she felt a prickle of irritation at her sister interrupting when she was trying to find out the Doctor's plan.
"Martha - "
"Then what?" Martha asked the Doctor, just as there was a noise off to her right.
Tish grabbed her wrist. "Martha, come on!" she said, pulling her sister away. They ran as the monster that had been Lazarus careered after them as they raced up to the top of the bell tower. Martha wondered what the Doctor's plan was as they reached the wooden walkway that circled the inside of the top of the tower, the bell hanging above their heads.
"There's nowhere else to go," Tish said, panicking. "We're trapped."
"This is where he said to bring him," Martha answered defensively.
"All right, so we're not trapped, we're bait," Tish said angry now.
"He knows what he's doing, we have to trust him," Martha said forcefully.
The monster pushed itself through the doorway opposite them. It was a nightmarish creature, a sort of mutated, outsize scorpion creature with a human-ish face. "Ladies - " it said, in a dreadful parody of the man it had once been,
Martha wondered if it could hear her heart thumping franticly in her chest as she moved in front of Tish. "Stay behind me," she told her sister. "If he takes me, make a run for it, head back down the stairs. You should have enough time." She clutched Tish's right arm with her right hand, almost blocking Tish's body with her own.
"But - " Tish started to object,
"Just do it Tish!" Martha said angrily, wishing her sister wouldn't argue.
The monster was lashing its tail like a cat about to pounce until it suddenly lashed out at them, and they screamed in terror as the wooden railing in front of them broke, pieces crashing to the floor far below. They split up, Tish dashing to one side, Martha to the other. The sound of organ playing came drifting up into the tower and Martha couldn't help the inconsequential thought that this was a funny time for a music practice. She heard Tish shout her name and saw the monster flick its tail at her sister who was cowering down against the back railing of the walkway. Martha ducked under the tail as it swung towards Tish, but as she instinctively got up to go to her sister, the tail came back and she couldn't help screaming. This wasn't such a good idea, Doctor, she thought fearfully as she tried to duck back under the tail again. But she wasn't quite quick enough and it knocked her sideways from the walkway. She screamed again, louder, as she fell, then she managed to grab at the edge of the railing. She heard Tish shouting at her to hold on and was tempted to retort sarcastically, but concentrated instead on clinging on with all her strength as the volume of the organ below her suddenly increased. She heard Tish shouting vainly at the monster to get away from her and hoped that it wouldn't knock Tish from her precarious position.
Suddenly the organ music swelled louder again and Tish clapped her hands over her ears, but Martha could only wince and hang on, grimly aware that she was dangling over a very long drop. She suddenly realised that the organist must be the Doctor, and the next moment the monster reared up, then toppled over the walkway railing to crash to the floor below. At the same moment Martha's grasp slipped and her left hand fell away from the railing. Tish grabbed her sister.
"I've got you!" she exclaimed. "Hold on."
Martha was tempted, again, to make a sarcastic retort and wondered if it was hanging around with the Doctor that made her want to say unwise things at inappropriate moments. Between the two of them, they managed to get Martha to safety again and they clung together, gasping and shaking with relief. Suddenly they heard the Doctor shouting.
"Martha?" He sounds worried, Martha thought.
The TARDIS, somewhen in the Vortex
Martha opened her eyes to see the Doctor staring at her with a mixture of horror and admiration in his brown eyes. "I had no idea how close I came to losing you," he whispered. She shrugged. They hadn't discussed what had happened, they'd just gone on to the next thing. "Why didn't you tell me?" asked the Doctor.
She looked him squarely in the eyes. "Why didn't you ask?"
"I - I don't know. I suppose I thought that it didn't really matter, so long as you were safe."
"Exactly. You made it seem unimportant, so I didn't mention it. I knew that you cared that I was safe - that much was obvious."
"I'm sorry."
She shrugged again. "It's water under the bridge now. We've both moved on."
He sat with his hands in his lap, a distant look on his face and Martha watched him. At times he'd treated her quite badly whilst they were travelling together the first time and she'd resented him for it; she'd hated herself for continuing to travel with him and for continuing to care about him. But things were far different now. He knew he needed her - not just at the moment to help get through his experiences on Meta Sigmafolio, but in everything. He was the last of the Time Lords and that meant he needed his Companions more than ever, although she suspected that he'd always needed them more than he'd been prepared to admit, otherwise he wouldn't have continued choosing new ones to travel with. And they'd had some very good times - meeting Shakespeare was still one of her favourite memories of travelling with him the first time.
"Do you remember 1969?" she asked.
"The moon landing - we went four times." He smiled faintly, remembering her enthusiasm for it infecting him so that they'd gone back three more times.
She smiled. "Actually, I meant us living in 1969. We were there for a few weeks after we got stuck there without the TARDIS. We landed in the grounds of that really creepy house, Wester Drumlins, and we bumped into those freaky Weeping Angels."
He screwed his eyes shut as he tried to remember, frowning in thought. "I don't remember," he said fretfully.
"Then I'll show you." She took his left hand in hers again and held his cool fingers against her temple, waiting until he'd shut his eyes, before shutting her own and remembering.
London 1969
Someone moaned wretchedly and it took Martha a moment to realise that she was the one doing the moaning. She stopped abruptly, wondering what had happened, then opened her eyes to see the Doctor sitting up, looking as nauseous as she felt.
"Time travel without a capsule, not the best way to do it," he said grimacing. She started to get up, but the Doctor stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Don't try to move just yet," he warned her. "Or you'll be throwing up."
"What happened?" she asked, feeling bewildered as well as sick.
"We ran into the Weeping Angels. Fascinating race, the only psychopaths in the universe to kill you nicely. They just zap you back into the past and feed off your potential energy in the present, leaving you to live to death in the past."
"What?" Now she felt panicky as well as bewildered. What does he mean, 'live to death'? she wondered.
"It's OK," he said, seeing the panic on her face. He moved his hand from her arm, and put his arm around her shoulders instead. "We'll be OK, we've got the TARDIS - " He stopped, looking around as he realised that the TARDIS was nowhere in sight. "Oh no!" he breathed. "My ship." There was a pained look in his eyes that made Martha hurt on his behalf. She knew how much he loved his ship - she was quite fond of the TARDIS herself.
"We'll get her back," she said confidently. "Remember that folder Sally Sparrow gave us? This must be what that stuff's about." She grabbed his free hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "You've still got the folder, yeah?" He nodded, still looking forlorn. "There you go, then. We'll find somewhere to stay and sort out what we need to do. C'mon." She got up and tugged him upwards. They made their way down the alley towards the main road, the Doctor's arm around her shoulders again, though whether it was for her comfort or his, she wasn't sure.
They reached the entrance to the alley and paused, taking in their surroundings. The Doctor scanned the street, then turned to Martha. "We'll need some ready cash for a flat. There's a pawnshop over there." He pointed to where three spheres hung on a bar above a dingy shop front. "I'll go and see what I can raise. Do you want to have a look around and see if anyone's advertising rooms?"
"OK. Where shall I meet you?"
"The teashop over there," the Doctor answered, pointing to a small shop with a red and white striped awning above the window. "Here." He dug in his coat pocket and pulled out a folded banknote and a gold ring, holding them both out to her. She took the banknote, but just frowned at the ring.
"What's that for?"
He took her left hand in his and slid the ring onto her finger, the one where a wedding ring would go. "Better if we tell people we're married, yes?"
"Oh!" She flushed. He was still holding her hand in his as he bent and kissed her forehead briefly, before moving off towards the pawnshop, leaving Martha staring after him in surprise. She looked down at the ring and wondered if she would dare ask him how he happened to have a gold wedding band in his pocket. She also wondered how many other women had worn it, before shoving that thought aside and turning to walk up the street. Almost opposite the teashop there was a newsagent and she stopped to read the cards in the window. She dug in her own coat pocket and pulled out a notepad and pen to copy down the details of two flats that were being advertised, then she went inside. She bought a local paper and some boiled sweets, deciding that she needed something to take away the faint nauseous feeling that still lingered. She looked at the ring on her finger as she accepted her change and wondered again about the Doctor having it in his pocket, then she shook her head and crossed the road to the teashop.
She was looking at the job adverts when the Doctor came in and made his way over to her corner table. The waitress came over and he ordered a pot of tea for two and two sticky buns. Martha raised her eyebrows at the latter, but didn't comment.
"How'd you get on?" she asked.
"Quite well," he answered. "You?"
"I found ads for a couple of flats that we can go and look at when you've finished your elevenses."
"Good." He smiled up at the waitress as she brought their tea and buns. "Thank you."
"And I've found a couple of jobs to apply for," Martha continued as the waitress left.
"Jobs?" asked the Doctor.
"If we're going to be stuck here for several weeks, as Sally's information implies, we'll need a regular income to pay for rent, food and clothes."
"Clothes?"
"Are you going to keep repeating random words?" she asked. He shook his head, looking contrite. "We'll need some changes of clothes now were don't have the limitless TARDIS wardrobe at our disposal." She caught his wince at her mention of the TARDIS, but she knew they needed to be practical. She started on her bun and felt her spirits rise slightly. "I think we should sort out a flat first, then go shopping."
"OK." He tore into his bun with enthusiasm.
"So tell me, Mr Smith, just how did you happen to have a wedding ring in your pocket?"
He arched one eyebrow at her as he swallowed. "Strictly speaking, it's not a wedding ring, it's a biodamper."
She frowned. "A biodamper?"
He nodded. "It shields the wearer, making them effectively invisible to anything hostile that's looking for their specific bio signature."
Martha nodded thoughtfully. "And it's disguised as a wedding ring why, exactly?"
The Doctor shrugged, swallowing his tea. "It's discreet and amongst humans at least, likely to go unnoticed." He nodded at her plate. "Are you going to finish that?"
She looked down at her half bun, then back up at his hopeful face. "Yes I am. Not all of us are gannets you know."
"Gannet? Interesting choice of word - most people would go for 'vulture'."
"I'm not 'most people'," she said pointedly.
He gave her a huge grin. "No you're not, Mrs Smith. I knew there was a reason I married you."
"Cheeky beggar," she said, but she was smiling affectionately as she finished her bun, then swallowed the last of her tea. The Doctor paid their bill, then took her newspaper, folded it, then tucked it into his coat pocket. They threaded their way out of the teashop, then he offered her his arm.
"Where to?" he asked.
Martha pulled out her notepad and told him the address of the first flat, and they set out at a brisk pace. She couldn't help feeling a little apprehensive at the prospect of looking at flats. Whilst 1969 wasn't as bad as 1913, she knew that the law had only recently changed to allow mixed race marriages. She didn't mention her concerns to the Doctor - he seemed to find humans' hang ups about skin colour very peculiar, which she supposed was understandable, given he wasn't even human. She also felt there was no point in 'borrowing trouble' as her Gran used to say.
As it turned out, the first flat they looked at was so tiny that the possibility of the two of them staying there was out of the question. Privately she wondered if anyone but a child would feel comfortable in such a place. The second place wasn't huge, certainly it was not as big as her own London flat, but it wasn't a shoebox either. The landlord, a cheery fellow in his sixties, seemed quite happy for them to take it, having been charmed by the Doctor's enthusiasm for his garden. He accepted a week's rent in advance and a small deposit from the Doctor, then handed over the keys.
"Thanks then, Mr Stevens. We'll sort out getting our stuff moved in." The Doctor shook hands with him and waved him away.
"There's only one problem with this place," Martha commented as the Doctor shut the front door.
"What's that?" he asked, surprised that she was bringing up a problem after they'd taken the flat.
"There's only one bedroom."
He raised one eyebrow. "I rarely sleep," he said. "So you take the bedroom and if I need a nap, I'll take the sofa." She looked pointedly at the tiny sofa, then up and down the Doctor's lanky frame. "I'll manage," he insisted.
"If you say so." She went to look at the kitchen again, opening cupboards and the fridge, considering how much they'd hold, then she pulled out her notepad and began to make a list of the most basic essentials. "How much money have we got?"
The Doctor dug in his trouser pocket and pulled out a small wad of banknotes and some coins. Martha dug out the change she had left from the fiver he'd given her earlier, and they spread it out on the table.
"I'm not much good at pre-decimal coinage," she confessed. "I'm too young."
"Luckily, I'm more than old enough, plus I've been in this era before," he added.
"You have?" Martha asked, surprised by this revelation. He nodded, lips pursed, and she decided not to ask if he didn't want to tell her. He'd got that distant look in his eyes that he always got when he talked of Gallifrey and his people. "Right then, Mr Smith, let's go shopping." She stood up and tucked her notepad back into her jacket pocket. The next moment the Doctor swept her up into a bear hug, picking her up off the floor. Although she was surprised, she didn't hesitate to return his hug, her arms wrapping around his neck as his settled around her waist. He put her back down on her feet after a few minutes, then kissed her forehead, before scooping up the money from the table and pocketing it.
"What was all that about then?" she asked curiously.
"I'm glad that you're with me, Martha Jones. I couldn't do this without you."
She couldn't help the big grin that settled on her face at his words and she cheerfully followed him out of the flat. When he took her hand in his, she thought her grin might split her face in two if it got any bigger.
It took them an hour to get some food and household essentials, then they went back to the flat for some lunch and a breather before they went back out to shop for clothes. By the time they got back to the flat just after four, Martha found her spirits were flagging, and when the Doctor suggested that she take a nap, she surprised herself by agreeing.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I'll go through the stuff in Sally's folder and work out what we need to do. I'll need to build some sort of temporal incursion detector so that we'll know when and where Billy arrives."
"Build a what?" she asked, baffled.
"A timey-wimey device," he answered, grinning.
"Oh." She smothered a yawn behind her hand. "Sorry."
"Don't be. It's been a long day." He gave her a gentle hug, then kissed her forehead before heading to the kitchen.
He keeps doing that, she thought before going into the bedroom. She changed into the pyjamas they'd bought, recalling the Doctor's surprise when she'd insisted on them rather than a nightdress. She slept for a couple of hours until someone sat down on the edge of the bed near where she was curled up.
"Martha."
She mumbled indistinctly into the pillow, then felt a hand stroking her hair from her eyes. She opened one eye and squinted up at the Doctor in the half light. He'd taken off his tie and jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves and undone the top two buttons on his shirt. His hair was ruffled even worse than usual and he smelt of fruit. She found she had to fight a sudden urge to grab him and snog him senseless, he looked so good.
"I made you a cake," he announced.
Her attention caught, she turned her head to look at him properly. "You made me a cake? It's not my birthday."
"It's not Christmas either," he answered, rather randomly she thought.
"True." She sat up and looked at the plate he now held out to her. "So why did you bake me a cake?" she asked, taking the slice of cake which was still warm from the oven.
"I needed something to do whilst I was thinking, and since I don't have the TARDIS to tinker with, I made a cake."
"Oh." She bit into the cake and her eyebrows shot up as she tasted the spices he'd put in it. "Wow! This is good!" she exclaimed in pleasure.
"You needn't sound quite so surprised," he said, sounding a little hurt.
She swallowed hastily. "I'm sorry." She gave him a contrite smile and he smiled back, then picked up her ankles and moved nearer, putting her legs across his thighs. He picked up her right foot and began to massage it, his long slender fingers pressing and rubbing her muscles as he started talking about the timey-wimey device he was planning to build. She lay back against the pillows, trying desperately to breathe evenly and not moan. Does he have the slightest idea how erotic a foot massage can be? she wondered. He continued talking, apparently oblivious to the effect that he was having on her. He switched to massaging her other foot and she fought the urge to rub her free foot against him. He might be calling her Mrs Smith, but that didn't mean he'd appreciate her taking advantage of the fact that she was pretending to be his wife. Finally he let go of her foot and moved her legs so that he could get up.
"What do you fancy for dinner?"
She swallowed her temptation to answer 'you' and shrugged. "I don't mind. Surprise me."
"OK." He went to the door. "Nice pyjamas, by the way." He went out and she looked down at them, white cotton with thin blue and red stripes. Shaking her head in puzzlement, she got up and got dressed again, acknowledging that she felt better for the foot massage.
She found the Doctor in the kitchen, peeling potatoes and whistling along to something on the radio which was perched up on the windowsill. She walked over to the sink and he dried his hand on the apron he'd put on over his clothes, then pulled her closer. She tried not to show her surprise at how affectionate he was being, deciding that she would just accept it whilst it was offered. When they'd been stuck in 1913 his human persona had barely even noticed her existence, at least this time he seemed determined to look after her.
"What are you making then?" she asked.
"I am going to make you a Shepherd's pie. A nice hearty dish to warm you up - it's going to be cold tonight."
"You're a weatherman as well as a chef now then?" she asked, grinning up at him.
He kissed the tip of her nose. "No, I just heard the weather forecast on the radio earlier." He went back to peeling the potatoes. "Are you mocking your husband, Mrs Smith?"
"Just teasing you a little," she answered. "Do you want a hand?"
"Nope." He grinned down at her. "You sit down and relax."
"OK." She took a seat at the kitchen table and watched him preparing the vegetables, then cooking them and the mince, before he made gravy.
"What sort of job are you going to look for?" he asked as he began laying the table.
"Shop work. I can't get secretarial since I don't have any qualifications, and the qualifications I do have are no use to me in this era."
"I'm sorry." He sat down opposite her.
Martha looked at him in surprise. "What are you sorry for?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "Landing you in yet another place where you'll have to take a job that doesn't allow you to make use of your talents and skills. You didn't sign up for adventures in Time and Space, and the chance to work as a domestic or a shop girl."
Martha shrugged in turn. "Swings and roundabout," she answered. "I can't expect to be somebody's muse every time out."
He grinned at her. "That's my girl!" He got up to check on the progress of the food, and she felt a surge of pride at his words.
They ate dinner and washed up whilst listening to the radio and arguing amiably about pop music, then they took the radio into the sitting room and curled up together on the sofa. She tucked her feet under herself and put her head on his shoulder, and he slung his arm around her as he told her a bit about his previous visits to the 60s.
The following day Martha went out job hunting and the Doctor went in search of materials for his timey-wimey detector. They both returned at lunchtime having achieved their goals, but Martha was worried about having to deal with pre-decimal coinage, knowing that there were no electronic tills in this era to tell her the correct change to give to customers. So after lunch, the Doctor sat her down and made her learn all the names of the coins and notes, including their nicknames, and taught her how to quickly add up pounds, shillings and pence in her head.
"You've learnt far more complicated stuff than this whilst training to be a doctor, and I know you're a quick study, so you'll soon master it," he assured her.
Eventually she did get it and she felt ridiculously pleased with herself. "I told you that you could do it," the Doctor said, kissing her forehead as he got up to start sorting out his materials for the timey-wimey detector.
"You keep doing that," Martha observed.
"Doing what?" he asked as he began sorting through what looked to Martha like a pile of junk.
"Kissing me on the forehead."
He looked up surprised. "I do?" She nodded. "Oh. I hadn't realised. Do you want me to stop?"
"No, I don't mind. It was an observation, not a complaint."
"Oh good." His manner had become abstracted and she recognised that he was entering what she thought of as his gadget-making state of mind.
"I'm going out for a walk," she said.
"OK." He didn't look up from the object he was contemplating and she smiled to herself as she went out.
Their days quickly settled into a pattern, with Martha working in the shop and the Doctor building his device. To her mild surprise, he continued to do most of the cooking, although they shared the rest of the chores. He got them a small TV and they would sit and watch it during those evenings that Martha wasn't out with the girls from work. He did a number of repair jobs for various of their neighbours, most of whom paid them in cash, ensuring that they never went too short. Miss Emerson across the road, however, gave them a homemade fruit cake as payment for the Doctor fixing a leaking tap, and Martha declared it wasn't half as nice as his, which caused him to grin smugly for an hour afterwards. Occasionally she would persuade him to go with her to the pub on a Saturday evening, where she found herself the object of envy amongst her friends who were all jealous that she had such a good looking bloke.
Billy finally arrived and they gave him the film with the Doctor's Easter Egg message on it for Sally Sparrow, then the TARDIS arrived. The Doctor unlocked the door and let them in, eagerly bounding up the ramp to the console. Martha followed more slowly as she wondered whether they'd ever be as close again as they had been during this stay in 1969.
The TARDIS, somewhen in the Vortex
Martha opened her eyes and found the Doctor looking at her rather forlornly. She shifted position, leaning her head against his shoulder and after a moment he put his arm around her.
"I hadn't realised our time in 1969 meant so much to you," he said.
"Something else we didn't discuss," she answered. "You do a lot of talking, quite often, but we don't talk about emotional stuff very often." She lifted her head and kissed his cheek. "I got used to it. You're not that different from a lot of human blokes in that respect."
"I think we're going to have to talk about some of the emotional stuff now though."
"I know." They sat silently for several minutes, the Doctor turning Martha's memories over in his mind. "Come on," she said, getting up and holding out her hand. "Let's go and have a swim. It'll do us both good to get some exercise."
They stopped at their room to collect swimming things, then headed to the pool. Martha let the Doctor go in first and get changed, then followed him in. She quickly stripped and changed into her bikini, her back to the pool. She didn't know whether or not the Doctor would be watching her change but she didn't want to embarrass him. She couldn't blame him for the way he was currently feeling about sex and nudity, but she knew they'd have to talk about Stolt's threat to rape him sooner or later, preferably sooner, otherwise it would fester in his mind. She sighed, then dived into the pool, pushing her worries from her mind for now.
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Tenth Doctor/Martha, OCs
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Season 3 (Set in a post-S3 AU)
Summary: Travelling with the Doctor is always an adventure, but sometimes the adventures are not fun.
Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Doctor Who" and all that jazz…
Warning: There are going to be descriptions of torture.
Author Notes: This is going to be a lengthy story. It's a follow up to the Celebrating Martha's Birthday series and opens about 6 months after Martha agreed to travel with the Doctor again. The story will make use of flashbacks to describe Ten and Martha's adventures during those 6 months. The story is set on Meta Sigmafolio, the planet to which Ten offered to take Martha to see "a burst of starfire like oil on water" at the end of "The Last of the Time Lords" - so I've created some original characters and an alien culture for them.
Chapter One: Smith and Jones Again
Chapter Two: Field Testing
Chapter Three: The Scientific Method
Chapter Four: Warrior
Chapter Five: Waking and Sleeping
~~~~~~
The Doctor slept for several hours without having any more nightmares. Martha remained awake, working out a routine for the Doctor's recovery; he needed exercise, sleep and encouragement to talk because, alien or not, she was quite sure that it would do him no good to bottle up what had happened.
When he woke again she suggested lunch and he agreed. "Do you want me to leave you to get dressed?" she asked lightly.
"Do you mind?" he asked anxiously.
"I do mind, but I understand." She kissed him quickly on the cheek, then picked up her own clothes and left him. He watched her go, one finger resting on his cheek where she'd kissed him. She was an astonishing woman and he realised he was very lucky to have her with him now. If anyone could get him through this it was Doctor Martha Jones. He dressed slowly, wishing he didn't feel like he'd just gone ten rounds with a Judoon. He really needed to sort out an exercise program - Tai Chi would be a good place to start, then, if Martha was up for it, aikido again.
He finished dressing, hesitating over whether or not to wear a tie, then decided against it. He doubted he'd be going anywhere for a day or two, so there was no real need to wear one. He headed to the kitchen where he found Martha making a Spanish omelette. He sniffed appreciatively and she smiled at him. "There's salad stuff in the fridge if you feel like making some."
"OK." He started getting out the salad things, then saw a sheet of paper lying on the table and turned it around to read:
Prescription: Doctor, The To be taken daily
90 minutes exercise - recommend Tai Chi and swimming, Tai Chi and Aikido later
Breakfast
Talking time - with Martha and/or the TARDIS
Lunch
Afternoon nap - as required
R&R time - to be determined by the patient (recommend reading, walking in the Arboretum/gardens initially)
Dinner
R&R time - to be determined by the patient (suggest watching movies)
Sleep
It was signed at the bottom with a small flourish: Doctor Martha Jones.
Martha kept her back to the Doctor as he read her prescription, leaving him the space to read and digest it. He stepped up behind her a moment later and gave her a brief hug. "Thank you, Doctor Jones."
"Is that OK?"
He nodded, then went back to the table and began making the salad, then got out some bread and a jug of fruit juice, before beginning to lay the table. Shortly afterwards Martha served up the omelette and they helped themselves to salad and bread.
"We're going to have to use some of that talking time to sort out my memory," the Doctor observed. She looked up, arching an eyebrow in enquiry as she ate. "I've got some gaps in my memories - a side effect of those drugs, I suspect. And there are some things that I remember that I'm not sure are real memories, I think they're drug-induced."
"OK. Do you want to make a start on that this afternoon?"
He nodded. "The sooner, the better, I think." He changed the subject then, asking if she'd spoken to her mother lately, and she assured him she had phoned her mum earlier.
After they'd washed up, Martha looked at him expectantly. "Where do you want to do this?"
"In the library." The Doctor led them through the corridors to one of Martha's favourite rooms in the TARDIS; she loved to roam the shelves, browsing the books from different periods of Earth's history, and those the Doctor had gathered from across the universe during his travels. Today, though, they headed for one of the big leather sofas that were situated at intervals throughout the vast room. Martha sat down with her back against the arm and crossed her legs. The Doctor sat down beside her, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
"Where do you want to start?"
"With Lazarus. In my nightmares I killed him, but not before he killed you - I don't know what happened in the bell tower.
"I'll show you." She took his left hand in hers and guided it to her temple, holding his long fingers steady as he closed his eyes, then she closed her own and remembered.
Southwark Cathedral, London
"Leave him, Lazarus!" commanded Martha, her attention fixed on the other man. "He's old and bitter. I thought you had a taste for fresher meat?"
"Martha, no!" The Doctor watched, horrified, as Martha ran towards the stairs, Tish close behind.
"What are you doing?" exclaimed Martha. She'd expected her sister to stay with the Doctor, not follow her.
"Keeping you out of trouble," Tish answered, very much the big sister for once.
"Doctor, the tower!" Martha shouted as she and Tish began to hurry up the stairs. There was a snarling sound behind them.
"Did you hear that?" asked Tish worriedly.
"He's changed," Martha answered. "Keep moving, we've got to lead him up."
Suddenly they heard the Doctor shout "Martha?"
She stepped over to an arch in the gallery and looked down at the Doctor, her hands resting on the stonework on either side of the arch. His anxiety was plain even at this height. "Doctor!" she called.
"Take him to the top, the very top of the bell tower," he shouted. "Do you hear me?"
"Up to the top," she agreed. Tish tapped her on the back and she felt a prickle of irritation at her sister interrupting when she was trying to find out the Doctor's plan.
"Martha - "
"Then what?" Martha asked the Doctor, just as there was a noise off to her right.
Tish grabbed her wrist. "Martha, come on!" she said, pulling her sister away. They ran as the monster that had been Lazarus careered after them as they raced up to the top of the bell tower. Martha wondered what the Doctor's plan was as they reached the wooden walkway that circled the inside of the top of the tower, the bell hanging above their heads.
"There's nowhere else to go," Tish said, panicking. "We're trapped."
"This is where he said to bring him," Martha answered defensively.
"All right, so we're not trapped, we're bait," Tish said angry now.
"He knows what he's doing, we have to trust him," Martha said forcefully.
The monster pushed itself through the doorway opposite them. It was a nightmarish creature, a sort of mutated, outsize scorpion creature with a human-ish face. "Ladies - " it said, in a dreadful parody of the man it had once been,
Martha wondered if it could hear her heart thumping franticly in her chest as she moved in front of Tish. "Stay behind me," she told her sister. "If he takes me, make a run for it, head back down the stairs. You should have enough time." She clutched Tish's right arm with her right hand, almost blocking Tish's body with her own.
"But - " Tish started to object,
"Just do it Tish!" Martha said angrily, wishing her sister wouldn't argue.
The monster was lashing its tail like a cat about to pounce until it suddenly lashed out at them, and they screamed in terror as the wooden railing in front of them broke, pieces crashing to the floor far below. They split up, Tish dashing to one side, Martha to the other. The sound of organ playing came drifting up into the tower and Martha couldn't help the inconsequential thought that this was a funny time for a music practice. She heard Tish shout her name and saw the monster flick its tail at her sister who was cowering down against the back railing of the walkway. Martha ducked under the tail as it swung towards Tish, but as she instinctively got up to go to her sister, the tail came back and she couldn't help screaming. This wasn't such a good idea, Doctor, she thought fearfully as she tried to duck back under the tail again. But she wasn't quite quick enough and it knocked her sideways from the walkway. She screamed again, louder, as she fell, then she managed to grab at the edge of the railing. She heard Tish shouting at her to hold on and was tempted to retort sarcastically, but concentrated instead on clinging on with all her strength as the volume of the organ below her suddenly increased. She heard Tish shouting vainly at the monster to get away from her and hoped that it wouldn't knock Tish from her precarious position.
Suddenly the organ music swelled louder again and Tish clapped her hands over her ears, but Martha could only wince and hang on, grimly aware that she was dangling over a very long drop. She suddenly realised that the organist must be the Doctor, and the next moment the monster reared up, then toppled over the walkway railing to crash to the floor below. At the same moment Martha's grasp slipped and her left hand fell away from the railing. Tish grabbed her sister.
"I've got you!" she exclaimed. "Hold on."
Martha was tempted, again, to make a sarcastic retort and wondered if it was hanging around with the Doctor that made her want to say unwise things at inappropriate moments. Between the two of them, they managed to get Martha to safety again and they clung together, gasping and shaking with relief. Suddenly they heard the Doctor shouting.
"Martha?" He sounds worried, Martha thought.
The TARDIS, somewhen in the Vortex
Martha opened her eyes to see the Doctor staring at her with a mixture of horror and admiration in his brown eyes. "I had no idea how close I came to losing you," he whispered. She shrugged. They hadn't discussed what had happened, they'd just gone on to the next thing. "Why didn't you tell me?" asked the Doctor.
She looked him squarely in the eyes. "Why didn't you ask?"
"I - I don't know. I suppose I thought that it didn't really matter, so long as you were safe."
"Exactly. You made it seem unimportant, so I didn't mention it. I knew that you cared that I was safe - that much was obvious."
"I'm sorry."
She shrugged again. "It's water under the bridge now. We've both moved on."
He sat with his hands in his lap, a distant look on his face and Martha watched him. At times he'd treated her quite badly whilst they were travelling together the first time and she'd resented him for it; she'd hated herself for continuing to travel with him and for continuing to care about him. But things were far different now. He knew he needed her - not just at the moment to help get through his experiences on Meta Sigmafolio, but in everything. He was the last of the Time Lords and that meant he needed his Companions more than ever, although she suspected that he'd always needed them more than he'd been prepared to admit, otherwise he wouldn't have continued choosing new ones to travel with. And they'd had some very good times - meeting Shakespeare was still one of her favourite memories of travelling with him the first time.
"Do you remember 1969?" she asked.
"The moon landing - we went four times." He smiled faintly, remembering her enthusiasm for it infecting him so that they'd gone back three more times.
She smiled. "Actually, I meant us living in 1969. We were there for a few weeks after we got stuck there without the TARDIS. We landed in the grounds of that really creepy house, Wester Drumlins, and we bumped into those freaky Weeping Angels."
He screwed his eyes shut as he tried to remember, frowning in thought. "I don't remember," he said fretfully.
"Then I'll show you." She took his left hand in hers again and held his cool fingers against her temple, waiting until he'd shut his eyes, before shutting her own and remembering.
London 1969
Someone moaned wretchedly and it took Martha a moment to realise that she was the one doing the moaning. She stopped abruptly, wondering what had happened, then opened her eyes to see the Doctor sitting up, looking as nauseous as she felt.
"Time travel without a capsule, not the best way to do it," he said grimacing. She started to get up, but the Doctor stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Don't try to move just yet," he warned her. "Or you'll be throwing up."
"What happened?" she asked, feeling bewildered as well as sick.
"We ran into the Weeping Angels. Fascinating race, the only psychopaths in the universe to kill you nicely. They just zap you back into the past and feed off your potential energy in the present, leaving you to live to death in the past."
"What?" Now she felt panicky as well as bewildered. What does he mean, 'live to death'? she wondered.
"It's OK," he said, seeing the panic on her face. He moved his hand from her arm, and put his arm around her shoulders instead. "We'll be OK, we've got the TARDIS - " He stopped, looking around as he realised that the TARDIS was nowhere in sight. "Oh no!" he breathed. "My ship." There was a pained look in his eyes that made Martha hurt on his behalf. She knew how much he loved his ship - she was quite fond of the TARDIS herself.
"We'll get her back," she said confidently. "Remember that folder Sally Sparrow gave us? This must be what that stuff's about." She grabbed his free hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "You've still got the folder, yeah?" He nodded, still looking forlorn. "There you go, then. We'll find somewhere to stay and sort out what we need to do. C'mon." She got up and tugged him upwards. They made their way down the alley towards the main road, the Doctor's arm around her shoulders again, though whether it was for her comfort or his, she wasn't sure.
They reached the entrance to the alley and paused, taking in their surroundings. The Doctor scanned the street, then turned to Martha. "We'll need some ready cash for a flat. There's a pawnshop over there." He pointed to where three spheres hung on a bar above a dingy shop front. "I'll go and see what I can raise. Do you want to have a look around and see if anyone's advertising rooms?"
"OK. Where shall I meet you?"
"The teashop over there," the Doctor answered, pointing to a small shop with a red and white striped awning above the window. "Here." He dug in his coat pocket and pulled out a folded banknote and a gold ring, holding them both out to her. She took the banknote, but just frowned at the ring.
"What's that for?"
He took her left hand in his and slid the ring onto her finger, the one where a wedding ring would go. "Better if we tell people we're married, yes?"
"Oh!" She flushed. He was still holding her hand in his as he bent and kissed her forehead briefly, before moving off towards the pawnshop, leaving Martha staring after him in surprise. She looked down at the ring and wondered if she would dare ask him how he happened to have a gold wedding band in his pocket. She also wondered how many other women had worn it, before shoving that thought aside and turning to walk up the street. Almost opposite the teashop there was a newsagent and she stopped to read the cards in the window. She dug in her own coat pocket and pulled out a notepad and pen to copy down the details of two flats that were being advertised, then she went inside. She bought a local paper and some boiled sweets, deciding that she needed something to take away the faint nauseous feeling that still lingered. She looked at the ring on her finger as she accepted her change and wondered again about the Doctor having it in his pocket, then she shook her head and crossed the road to the teashop.
She was looking at the job adverts when the Doctor came in and made his way over to her corner table. The waitress came over and he ordered a pot of tea for two and two sticky buns. Martha raised her eyebrows at the latter, but didn't comment.
"How'd you get on?" she asked.
"Quite well," he answered. "You?"
"I found ads for a couple of flats that we can go and look at when you've finished your elevenses."
"Good." He smiled up at the waitress as she brought their tea and buns. "Thank you."
"And I've found a couple of jobs to apply for," Martha continued as the waitress left.
"Jobs?" asked the Doctor.
"If we're going to be stuck here for several weeks, as Sally's information implies, we'll need a regular income to pay for rent, food and clothes."
"Clothes?"
"Are you going to keep repeating random words?" she asked. He shook his head, looking contrite. "We'll need some changes of clothes now were don't have the limitless TARDIS wardrobe at our disposal." She caught his wince at her mention of the TARDIS, but she knew they needed to be practical. She started on her bun and felt her spirits rise slightly. "I think we should sort out a flat first, then go shopping."
"OK." He tore into his bun with enthusiasm.
"So tell me, Mr Smith, just how did you happen to have a wedding ring in your pocket?"
He arched one eyebrow at her as he swallowed. "Strictly speaking, it's not a wedding ring, it's a biodamper."
She frowned. "A biodamper?"
He nodded. "It shields the wearer, making them effectively invisible to anything hostile that's looking for their specific bio signature."
Martha nodded thoughtfully. "And it's disguised as a wedding ring why, exactly?"
The Doctor shrugged, swallowing his tea. "It's discreet and amongst humans at least, likely to go unnoticed." He nodded at her plate. "Are you going to finish that?"
She looked down at her half bun, then back up at his hopeful face. "Yes I am. Not all of us are gannets you know."
"Gannet? Interesting choice of word - most people would go for 'vulture'."
"I'm not 'most people'," she said pointedly.
He gave her a huge grin. "No you're not, Mrs Smith. I knew there was a reason I married you."
"Cheeky beggar," she said, but she was smiling affectionately as she finished her bun, then swallowed the last of her tea. The Doctor paid their bill, then took her newspaper, folded it, then tucked it into his coat pocket. They threaded their way out of the teashop, then he offered her his arm.
"Where to?" he asked.
Martha pulled out her notepad and told him the address of the first flat, and they set out at a brisk pace. She couldn't help feeling a little apprehensive at the prospect of looking at flats. Whilst 1969 wasn't as bad as 1913, she knew that the law had only recently changed to allow mixed race marriages. She didn't mention her concerns to the Doctor - he seemed to find humans' hang ups about skin colour very peculiar, which she supposed was understandable, given he wasn't even human. She also felt there was no point in 'borrowing trouble' as her Gran used to say.
As it turned out, the first flat they looked at was so tiny that the possibility of the two of them staying there was out of the question. Privately she wondered if anyone but a child would feel comfortable in such a place. The second place wasn't huge, certainly it was not as big as her own London flat, but it wasn't a shoebox either. The landlord, a cheery fellow in his sixties, seemed quite happy for them to take it, having been charmed by the Doctor's enthusiasm for his garden. He accepted a week's rent in advance and a small deposit from the Doctor, then handed over the keys.
"Thanks then, Mr Stevens. We'll sort out getting our stuff moved in." The Doctor shook hands with him and waved him away.
"There's only one problem with this place," Martha commented as the Doctor shut the front door.
"What's that?" he asked, surprised that she was bringing up a problem after they'd taken the flat.
"There's only one bedroom."
He raised one eyebrow. "I rarely sleep," he said. "So you take the bedroom and if I need a nap, I'll take the sofa." She looked pointedly at the tiny sofa, then up and down the Doctor's lanky frame. "I'll manage," he insisted.
"If you say so." She went to look at the kitchen again, opening cupboards and the fridge, considering how much they'd hold, then she pulled out her notepad and began to make a list of the most basic essentials. "How much money have we got?"
The Doctor dug in his trouser pocket and pulled out a small wad of banknotes and some coins. Martha dug out the change she had left from the fiver he'd given her earlier, and they spread it out on the table.
"I'm not much good at pre-decimal coinage," she confessed. "I'm too young."
"Luckily, I'm more than old enough, plus I've been in this era before," he added.
"You have?" Martha asked, surprised by this revelation. He nodded, lips pursed, and she decided not to ask if he didn't want to tell her. He'd got that distant look in his eyes that he always got when he talked of Gallifrey and his people. "Right then, Mr Smith, let's go shopping." She stood up and tucked her notepad back into her jacket pocket. The next moment the Doctor swept her up into a bear hug, picking her up off the floor. Although she was surprised, she didn't hesitate to return his hug, her arms wrapping around his neck as his settled around her waist. He put her back down on her feet after a few minutes, then kissed her forehead, before scooping up the money from the table and pocketing it.
"What was all that about then?" she asked curiously.
"I'm glad that you're with me, Martha Jones. I couldn't do this without you."
She couldn't help the big grin that settled on her face at his words and she cheerfully followed him out of the flat. When he took her hand in his, she thought her grin might split her face in two if it got any bigger.
It took them an hour to get some food and household essentials, then they went back to the flat for some lunch and a breather before they went back out to shop for clothes. By the time they got back to the flat just after four, Martha found her spirits were flagging, and when the Doctor suggested that she take a nap, she surprised herself by agreeing.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I'll go through the stuff in Sally's folder and work out what we need to do. I'll need to build some sort of temporal incursion detector so that we'll know when and where Billy arrives."
"Build a what?" she asked, baffled.
"A timey-wimey device," he answered, grinning.
"Oh." She smothered a yawn behind her hand. "Sorry."
"Don't be. It's been a long day." He gave her a gentle hug, then kissed her forehead before heading to the kitchen.
He keeps doing that, she thought before going into the bedroom. She changed into the pyjamas they'd bought, recalling the Doctor's surprise when she'd insisted on them rather than a nightdress. She slept for a couple of hours until someone sat down on the edge of the bed near where she was curled up.
"Martha."
She mumbled indistinctly into the pillow, then felt a hand stroking her hair from her eyes. She opened one eye and squinted up at the Doctor in the half light. He'd taken off his tie and jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves and undone the top two buttons on his shirt. His hair was ruffled even worse than usual and he smelt of fruit. She found she had to fight a sudden urge to grab him and snog him senseless, he looked so good.
"I made you a cake," he announced.
Her attention caught, she turned her head to look at him properly. "You made me a cake? It's not my birthday."
"It's not Christmas either," he answered, rather randomly she thought.
"True." She sat up and looked at the plate he now held out to her. "So why did you bake me a cake?" she asked, taking the slice of cake which was still warm from the oven.
"I needed something to do whilst I was thinking, and since I don't have the TARDIS to tinker with, I made a cake."
"Oh." She bit into the cake and her eyebrows shot up as she tasted the spices he'd put in it. "Wow! This is good!" she exclaimed in pleasure.
"You needn't sound quite so surprised," he said, sounding a little hurt.
She swallowed hastily. "I'm sorry." She gave him a contrite smile and he smiled back, then picked up her ankles and moved nearer, putting her legs across his thighs. He picked up her right foot and began to massage it, his long slender fingers pressing and rubbing her muscles as he started talking about the timey-wimey device he was planning to build. She lay back against the pillows, trying desperately to breathe evenly and not moan. Does he have the slightest idea how erotic a foot massage can be? she wondered. He continued talking, apparently oblivious to the effect that he was having on her. He switched to massaging her other foot and she fought the urge to rub her free foot against him. He might be calling her Mrs Smith, but that didn't mean he'd appreciate her taking advantage of the fact that she was pretending to be his wife. Finally he let go of her foot and moved her legs so that he could get up.
"What do you fancy for dinner?"
She swallowed her temptation to answer 'you' and shrugged. "I don't mind. Surprise me."
"OK." He went to the door. "Nice pyjamas, by the way." He went out and she looked down at them, white cotton with thin blue and red stripes. Shaking her head in puzzlement, she got up and got dressed again, acknowledging that she felt better for the foot massage.
She found the Doctor in the kitchen, peeling potatoes and whistling along to something on the radio which was perched up on the windowsill. She walked over to the sink and he dried his hand on the apron he'd put on over his clothes, then pulled her closer. She tried not to show her surprise at how affectionate he was being, deciding that she would just accept it whilst it was offered. When they'd been stuck in 1913 his human persona had barely even noticed her existence, at least this time he seemed determined to look after her.
"What are you making then?" she asked.
"I am going to make you a Shepherd's pie. A nice hearty dish to warm you up - it's going to be cold tonight."
"You're a weatherman as well as a chef now then?" she asked, grinning up at him.
He kissed the tip of her nose. "No, I just heard the weather forecast on the radio earlier." He went back to peeling the potatoes. "Are you mocking your husband, Mrs Smith?"
"Just teasing you a little," she answered. "Do you want a hand?"
"Nope." He grinned down at her. "You sit down and relax."
"OK." She took a seat at the kitchen table and watched him preparing the vegetables, then cooking them and the mince, before he made gravy.
"What sort of job are you going to look for?" he asked as he began laying the table.
"Shop work. I can't get secretarial since I don't have any qualifications, and the qualifications I do have are no use to me in this era."
"I'm sorry." He sat down opposite her.
Martha looked at him in surprise. "What are you sorry for?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "Landing you in yet another place where you'll have to take a job that doesn't allow you to make use of your talents and skills. You didn't sign up for adventures in Time and Space, and the chance to work as a domestic or a shop girl."
Martha shrugged in turn. "Swings and roundabout," she answered. "I can't expect to be somebody's muse every time out."
He grinned at her. "That's my girl!" He got up to check on the progress of the food, and she felt a surge of pride at his words.
They ate dinner and washed up whilst listening to the radio and arguing amiably about pop music, then they took the radio into the sitting room and curled up together on the sofa. She tucked her feet under herself and put her head on his shoulder, and he slung his arm around her as he told her a bit about his previous visits to the 60s.
The following day Martha went out job hunting and the Doctor went in search of materials for his timey-wimey detector. They both returned at lunchtime having achieved their goals, but Martha was worried about having to deal with pre-decimal coinage, knowing that there were no electronic tills in this era to tell her the correct change to give to customers. So after lunch, the Doctor sat her down and made her learn all the names of the coins and notes, including their nicknames, and taught her how to quickly add up pounds, shillings and pence in her head.
"You've learnt far more complicated stuff than this whilst training to be a doctor, and I know you're a quick study, so you'll soon master it," he assured her.
Eventually she did get it and she felt ridiculously pleased with herself. "I told you that you could do it," the Doctor said, kissing her forehead as he got up to start sorting out his materials for the timey-wimey detector.
"You keep doing that," Martha observed.
"Doing what?" he asked as he began sorting through what looked to Martha like a pile of junk.
"Kissing me on the forehead."
He looked up surprised. "I do?" She nodded. "Oh. I hadn't realised. Do you want me to stop?"
"No, I don't mind. It was an observation, not a complaint."
"Oh good." His manner had become abstracted and she recognised that he was entering what she thought of as his gadget-making state of mind.
"I'm going out for a walk," she said.
"OK." He didn't look up from the object he was contemplating and she smiled to herself as she went out.
Their days quickly settled into a pattern, with Martha working in the shop and the Doctor building his device. To her mild surprise, he continued to do most of the cooking, although they shared the rest of the chores. He got them a small TV and they would sit and watch it during those evenings that Martha wasn't out with the girls from work. He did a number of repair jobs for various of their neighbours, most of whom paid them in cash, ensuring that they never went too short. Miss Emerson across the road, however, gave them a homemade fruit cake as payment for the Doctor fixing a leaking tap, and Martha declared it wasn't half as nice as his, which caused him to grin smugly for an hour afterwards. Occasionally she would persuade him to go with her to the pub on a Saturday evening, where she found herself the object of envy amongst her friends who were all jealous that she had such a good looking bloke.
Billy finally arrived and they gave him the film with the Doctor's Easter Egg message on it for Sally Sparrow, then the TARDIS arrived. The Doctor unlocked the door and let them in, eagerly bounding up the ramp to the console. Martha followed more slowly as she wondered whether they'd ever be as close again as they had been during this stay in 1969.
The TARDIS, somewhen in the Vortex
Martha opened her eyes and found the Doctor looking at her rather forlornly. She shifted position, leaning her head against his shoulder and after a moment he put his arm around her.
"I hadn't realised our time in 1969 meant so much to you," he said.
"Something else we didn't discuss," she answered. "You do a lot of talking, quite often, but we don't talk about emotional stuff very often." She lifted her head and kissed his cheek. "I got used to it. You're not that different from a lot of human blokes in that respect."
"I think we're going to have to talk about some of the emotional stuff now though."
"I know." They sat silently for several minutes, the Doctor turning Martha's memories over in his mind. "Come on," she said, getting up and holding out her hand. "Let's go and have a swim. It'll do us both good to get some exercise."
They stopped at their room to collect swimming things, then headed to the pool. Martha let the Doctor go in first and get changed, then followed him in. She quickly stripped and changed into her bikini, her back to the pool. She didn't know whether or not the Doctor would be watching her change but she didn't want to embarrass him. She couldn't blame him for the way he was currently feeling about sex and nudity, but she knew they'd have to talk about Stolt's threat to rape him sooner or later, preferably sooner, otherwise it would fester in his mind. She sighed, then dived into the pool, pushing her worries from her mind for now.