Challenge
Title: Challenge
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha, Ten
Rating: G
Spoilers: Set about 6 months after The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky
Summary: Martha challenges the Doctor to impress her.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Author Notes: Quite a while ago ziggychaos offered the following prompt for ladymako71's 1001 Whovian Nights Drabble Fest:
Martha: "Impress me."
The Doctor: "Ooo, a challenge. Love a challenge!"
and the Bunny!Muses sprang to attention. It's taken me a while to get the unruly little beasts into order long enough to write it, but here it finally is !
This rather fluffy bit of fic is a birthday present for mischief89: have a very Happy Birthday !!
~~~~~~
Martha was in the TARDIS library, unwinding after a manic few weeks at UNIT. She lay sprawled on her back on one of the wide leather sofas, listening to music via her iPod and re-reading Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban for the umpteenth time. There was a bag of marshmallows resting on the seat beside her and an empty mug which had recently held hot chocolate with cream, was on the floor within arm's reach.
Donna had gone to spend a long weekend with her mum and Wilf, and the Doctor had invited Martha along for a 'quick trip'. As she hadn't taken any leave since joining UNIT and Tom was still out in Africa, she had taken him up on the offer, but on the strict understanding that it was one trip only, and if he picked her up on Friday lunchtime then he had to get her back home by Sunday evening. The Doctor had been so delighted that she had accepted his offer that he hadn't objected to her qualifier, reasoning that since he had a time machine at his disposal, they could actually spend three months together if they chose, but he'd still be able, if the TARDIS was willing, to get her back after three days. Of course, he didn't really believe she'd spend three months with him, but he couldn't help hoping she'd stay for more than three days.
Martha was so engrossed in her book and music that when the Doctor touched her arm to attract her attention, she almost fell off the sofa in surprise.
"Bloody hell, Doctor!" she exclaimed, once she'd caught her breath. "What are you trying to do, scare me into an early grave?" She pulled herself up and leant her back against the sofa's arm as she switched off her iPod.
He gave her a contrite look as he sat down next to her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just wondered where you wanted to go for dinner this evening?"
She shook her head. "I've no idea. Impress me, Mr Smith."
He gave her a manic grin. "Ooh, a challenge, Doctor Jones? I love a challenge!"
"Just don't give me another heart attack, that's all I ask." She frowned. "Well that and that you don't take me somewhere that we'll end up having to run for our lives, please."
He drew an X across both his hearts at once. "Cross my hearts and hope not to regenerate," he answered with another grin.
She shook her head but he could see she was smiling; he leant forward, placing a hand either side of her body on the sofa arm behind her, and rested his forehead against hers.
"I'm really glad you agreed to this trip," he said softly. "I have missed you."
She reached up and slid her arms around his neck. "Missed you too. Missed all of this actually," she answered just as softly.
He moved his arms to hug her and they simply sat, holding each other silently for several long moments until the Doctor reluctantly pulled away.
"Right then, Martha Jones, I believe you challenged me to impress you?
She gave him a grin, eyes sparkling with mischief and merriment. "I did."
"Then I shall see what I can do." He stood up and gave her a very proper salute, then turned smartly on his heel and marched out, arms swinging, with Martha's laughter trailing after him.
She shook her head, then picked up the bag of marshmallows, her empty mug, her iPod and her book; she took the first two items back to the kitchen and the second two back to her room, then she made her way through the corridors to the Control Room.
"So, where are we going?" she asked, seeing him doing his usual manic dance around the console and knowing they were now in flight, rather than simply hanging in the Vortex.
"We are going to Arcateen V," he answered.
"And what's special about Arcateen V?" she asked, knowing he loved it when she asked him questions.
"It's home to a race of Butterfly People, a group of whom are famous, throughout some sectors of the universe, as Star Poets."
"Butterfly People?" She frowned thoughtfully, trying to figure out what they must look like. "Sounds interesting," she said.
"Oh you'll find it very interesting, I promise." He gave her one of his heart-stopping smiles and she couldn't help smiling back.
"With any luck we're going to arrive in time for the bi-annual Poetry Festival. It's always a very special event, and the Spring Festival is generally quite breathtaking."
"Have you been many times?" Martha asked curiously.
He shook his head. "I've only managed to get there twice, both times for the Spring Festival."
He paused his movements to give her an appraising look. "I think we should find you something rather special to wear, though," he said.
"What about you?"
"I shall wear my tux," he said. His expression became distant and thoughtful, and she wondered if he was remembering when he'd worn it to LazLabs, or if he'd worn it since for some adventure she hadn't been around to experience.
"So what am I going to wear?" she asked, gently pulling his thoughts back to the present.
He gave her a bright grin, sloughing off his remembrance of Astrid and the doomed Titanic, and sauntered across to take her arm. "Let's go and see what the TARDIS has to offer, shall we?"
* * * * * *
The Doctor had discovered a variety of dresses in different styles and colours, and ten minutes later Martha was browsing through the two rails, trying to decide what to wear.
He was leaning against the nearby wall, his gaze fixed on the beautiful young woman before him. It seemed to him that since she'd walked out of the TARDIS eighteen months ago, her increased confidence and maturity from working at UNIT had made her look more lovely than ever.
"What do you think?" Martha asked, breaking in on his thoughts. "Red or gold?" She held up two dresses: one a deep, flawless gold, and the other a rich ruby red.
He shook his head. "I think you'll look gorgeous in either one," he answered.
She blushed, her darker skin taking on a slightly rusty hue. "Thanks," she murmured. She hadn't got used to such forthright compliments from the Doctor yet.
"The red," he said suddenly.
"OK."
"And you'll need shoes, and things." He opened a cupboard and rooted around for a few moments before emerging with a pair of shoes and an evening bag that matched her dress.
Martha shook her head, slightly amused as always, by the fact that the TARDIS could supply whatever was needed.
"Thanks." She draped the dress across her arm, then accepted the shoes and bag from him.
"See you in the Control Room shortly," he said.
"OK."
* * * * * *
Twenty minutes later they met again in the Control Room and the Doctor had to forcibly restrain himself from staring, slack-jawed, at his companion. The dress was strapless and close-fitting in the bodice before flaring out into a wide skirt, and she had left her hair loose about her shoulders: she looked stunning. He couldn't help thinking that anyone, male or female, with eyes in their head would fancy her if they could see her now.
That thought pulled him up short as he realised its full implications. Fortunately the TARDIS arrived on Arcateen V and he managed to pull his wandering wits together again. He bowed to Martha, provoking a giggle from her, then offered her his arm which she accepted, before he led her down the ramp to the door.
"After you," he said, opening the door and gesturing grandly.
She stepped outside and immediately stopped to take in the sights, smells and sounds. The TARDIS was parked on the outskirts of a gleaming city; the air was rich with scents, few of which she recognised, and Martha could hear ethereal singing. There was no obvious sun, but there were hundreds of brightly coloured lights everywhere.
"Ready?" the Doctor asked.
She nodded and accepted his arm again, allowing him to lead the way towards the centre of the city.
It only took a few minutes for Martha to realise that both the singing and the lights were coming from the people, if people they were; she forced herself not to stare openly, but it wasn't easy because they were so fascinating and different to any being she'd seen before. They were humanoid shaped and about six feet tall, although it was hard to be sure since they flew several feet above the ground; their wings looked gauzy and insubstantial, but she wasn't surprised that the wings could hold them up, given that their bodies looked translucent and seemed to be composed of light rather than matter. She could see their skeletons through their skins and noted they had incredibly long, narrow fingers, as well as long black hair that seemed almost to have a life of its own as it flowed away from the beings as they passed. As far as she could tell, their eyes were black and they had no obvious noses.
Martha glanced up at the Doctor to find him watching her reactions with interest.
"We must look quite weird to them," she observed quietly.
A large grin broke out across his face before he tilted his head down towards hers. "Someone else would have said they look weird to us," he commented.
She blinked, a slight frown on her face. "But this is their planet, isn't it?" He nodded. "Then we're the odd ones, because we don't belong here."
He stopped, grinning, then grabbed her up into a hug. "Martha Jones, you are quite brilliant!" he exclaimed.
"And you're not a bit dignified, are you?" she answered with a bemused grin.
He quickly set her back down on her feet, then tweaked her skirt back into its proper shape, before bowing with an apologetic air.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am."
Martha laughed, swatting at his arm. "Fool," she said affectionately. "Come on, where's this Poetry Festival taking place?"
"This way," he answered, taking her hand and leading her through several wide streets towards a building that looked like a football stadium.
She noted as they walked, that there were no cars, bicycles, buses, or cabs, and assumed it was because all the natives could fly.
They reached the entrance to the stadium, and the Doctor flashed his psychic paper at one of the beings who was checking tickets before allowing others inside. The being nodded to them both, then gestured for them to proceed.
"Not very talkative, are they?" Martha commented quietly as the Doctor led her towards a flight of stairs.
"They talk telepathically," he answered, "although they sing vocally, but their language has many more nuances of meaning and emotion than a human brain can process."
"Oh."
He glanced down at her, seeing that she looked disappointed. "Don't worry, you'll still enjoy this," he assured her.
She shrugged one shoulder, willing to humour him, even as she wondered just how much she could hope to understand.
He squeezed her hand, as if understanding her doubts, and then helped her up into the gallery to which they'd been heading.
Looking around, Martha saw that they were in a stadium although there were no seats, which didn't really surprise her since the natives were all fluttering around her. The Doctor led her to the front of the gallery so that their view wouldn't be obscured by the wings around them. She stood by the railing at the front and he stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her back to rest against his body.
"We'll be here for a few hours," he said, "so make yourself as comfortable as possible."
"Thanks."
A few minutes later a being flew into the centre of the stadium, a gentle blue light emanating from its form. It began to sing and the Doctor bent his head to Martha's ear.
"Do you want to understand?"
"Yes."
She felt his fingertips at her temples and then she realised she could 'hear' what the being was singing.
"Welcome friends and distinguished visitors, to the 443rd biannual Poetry Festival of Caritativo, capital city of Arcateen V. As usual you will hear performances from all our most talented Star Poets, and the evening will culminate in a 45 minute poetry slam featuring all the newest young Star Poets."
"A Poetry Slam?" murmured Martha in surprise, as the being waved another forward to take their place in the centre of the field.
You know what a Poetry Slam is? asked the Doctor, and he felt her startled response to his telepathic question.
She craned her neck to look up at his face, her mouth open in amazement.
"Sorry," he said softly, dipping his head down again to speak in her ear. "You don't mind me speaking to you silently, do you?"
She shook her head. "No, you just surprised me."
He kissed her cheek, then put his fingers back to her temples. You just have to think back to me, he told her.
Like this?
Yes. His voice was warm with approval.
I do know what a poetry slam is, she assured him, I just didn't realise anyone off Earth would know.
Ideas spread, he answered simply.
She nodded her understanding and concentrated on the being in the centre of the stadium who was reciting a poem about the beauty of springtime. Poem after poem followed, and Martha found that whilst she couldn't understand the words, she understood the sentiments and emotions that were expressed by the different Star Poets.
Finally, after three hours, the last Star Poet left the field, and there was a few minutes break whilst the youngsters taking part in the Poetry Slam assembled themselves in the middle of the field.
Martha shifted and the Doctor moved his hands away from her face, both of them flexing their arms and legs after standing for so long in one position.
"OK?" he asked and she nodded. He thought she was looking a little tired. "There's a banquet after this, so we should be able to sit down and eat."
She smiled. "That sounds good."
They turned their attention back to the field as the Star Poet who'd kicked things off earlier, began to speak again, introducing the young poets who were now going to compete for a place at the Poetry Academy.
The youngsters took it in turn to move to the centre of the stadium and recite their poem, and Martha once again listened with the aid of the Doctor's telepathic faculties. As the final poet stepped forward she couldn't help sighing softly with relief; whilst the afternoon had been fascinating, it had also been a little tiring to concentrate on understanding the poems and songs she'd heard whilst maintaining a telepathic connection with the Doctor.
"This poem is dedicated to our distinguished visitors, Doctor John Smith and Doctor Martha Jones."
Martha felt the Doctor's startled response as clearly as her own at this announcement and knew this was none of his doing. They listened with bated breath as the young poet recited a lengthy verse about time, space, beauty, strength and steadfast friendship. She was aware of tears on her cheeks and guessed from the sound of the Time Lord's breathing, that he was also crying silently.
The poem finished and the audience burst into a spontaneous paean of praise to the young poet. The two visitors, the dedicatees of the poem, were almost oblivious to the audience's response as they wrapped their arms around each other and clung together. Eventually they became aware that two of the Butterfly People were hovering at a discreet distance and they pulled apart to look up at the beings beside them, recognising the Star Poet who had been acting as the announcer, and the youngster who had dedicated his poem to them.
Introductions were made, and then Martha and the Doctor found themselves making their way back to the ground, and following the two poets through the backstage area to a large dining hall where they were shown to seats at a table on the dais.
Martha wondered if there were going to be speeches before the meal, and was relieved when there was a simple invitation to eat.
She was surprised when the Star Poet, who had told her to call him Max since his full name was unpronounceable for humans, offered her a small silver pendant shaped like pan pipes. The Doctor quickly explained that it would allow her to communicate telepathically with her hosts without needing his intervention, so she accepted the pendant from Max and allowed the Doctor to fasten it around her neck.
After that conversation between the Butterfly People, the human and the Time Lord flowed smoothly, and although Martha initially preferred to concentrate on her food and listen, she was soon drawn into the conversation between Max and the Doctor as the latter talked about meeting Shakespeare, of whom Max knew.
"And so you have inspired two poets now," Max commented, when the Time Lord revealed that Martha had been the Bard's inspiration.
She felt her cheeks heat up, embarrassed by the idea of inspiring anyone. "Yes."
"It is not so surprising," the Star Poet observed. "Poets are drawn to grace and beauty, to strength and passion. All of these you embody Martha."
She ducked her head, flushing properly now.
"I beg your pardon, I did not intend to embarrass you," Max assured her. "But of course, you're naturally a modest person." He smiled. "I will spare your blushes. Doctor, would you and your companion care to spend the night here in the city with us? We do not often get visitors and it would be an honour to show you the Poetry Academy tomorrow."
The Time Lord raised an eyebrow at Martha and she heard him speak privately in her mind. "Would you like to stay? It's your choice."
"Yes please."
"We'd be honoured," the Doctor told Max.
"Excellent. I'll go and arrange some accommodation for you." He got up and flew away.
Martha felt the Doctor's hand close over hers as it rested on the table. "OK?" he asked gently.
"A bit tired," she answered, "and slightly overwhelmed."
He nodded his understanding, then lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. "Max spoke the truth," he told her. "If I was any kind of poet, I'd have written an epic for you by now."
Before Martha could work out how to answer that, Max returned with a youngster who would, he told them, take them to their guest suite.
"We shall meet again in the morning," Max said.
"I look forward to it," Martha assured him truthfully.
To her relief, their accommodation was only a few minutes distant from the stadium, and five minutes later the Doctor was letting them into the suite of rooms they had been assigned. Ten minutes later, Martha was enjoying a luxurious bubble bath in the opulent bathroom attached to their suite.
When she emerged wrapped in a large, fluffy bathrobe, she found the Doctor standing by the window in the main room. He'd removed his jacket and when he turned to her, seeing her reflection in the window, she saw he'd unfastened his bow tie so that it was now hanging loosely around his neck, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Relaxed," she answered, crossing the room to stand at his side.
"Good." He put his arm around her shoulders and she tucked herself into his side; he gave a soft sigh and she looked up into his face.
"You OK?" she asked.
He looked down at her and smiled. "I am now," he answered.
She smiled back. "Thank you for bringing me here."
"You're very welcome, Doctor Jones," he answered. "Now, unless I'm very much mistaken, you could do with some sleep?"
She nodded.
"Off to bed with you then," he said. "I'll see you in the morning at breakfast." He kissed her forehead, then let go of her, careful to hide his reluctance at moving.
She stood up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then headed into her room, and the Doctor went back to staring out of the window, wondering just when he'd fallen in love with Martha Jones, and what he was going to do about it, given she was now engaged.
"For a Time Lord, you have lousy timing," he told himself.
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha, Ten
Rating: G
Spoilers: Set about 6 months after The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky
Summary: Martha challenges the Doctor to impress her.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Author Notes: Quite a while ago ziggychaos offered the following prompt for ladymako71's 1001 Whovian Nights Drabble Fest:
Martha: "Impress me."
The Doctor: "Ooo, a challenge. Love a challenge!"
and the Bunny!Muses sprang to attention. It's taken me a while to get the unruly little beasts into order long enough to write it, but here it finally is !
This rather fluffy bit of fic is a birthday present for mischief89: have a very Happy Birthday !!
~~~~~~
Martha was in the TARDIS library, unwinding after a manic few weeks at UNIT. She lay sprawled on her back on one of the wide leather sofas, listening to music via her iPod and re-reading Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban for the umpteenth time. There was a bag of marshmallows resting on the seat beside her and an empty mug which had recently held hot chocolate with cream, was on the floor within arm's reach.
Donna had gone to spend a long weekend with her mum and Wilf, and the Doctor had invited Martha along for a 'quick trip'. As she hadn't taken any leave since joining UNIT and Tom was still out in Africa, she had taken him up on the offer, but on the strict understanding that it was one trip only, and if he picked her up on Friday lunchtime then he had to get her back home by Sunday evening. The Doctor had been so delighted that she had accepted his offer that he hadn't objected to her qualifier, reasoning that since he had a time machine at his disposal, they could actually spend three months together if they chose, but he'd still be able, if the TARDIS was willing, to get her back after three days. Of course, he didn't really believe she'd spend three months with him, but he couldn't help hoping she'd stay for more than three days.
Martha was so engrossed in her book and music that when the Doctor touched her arm to attract her attention, she almost fell off the sofa in surprise.
"Bloody hell, Doctor!" she exclaimed, once she'd caught her breath. "What are you trying to do, scare me into an early grave?" She pulled herself up and leant her back against the sofa's arm as she switched off her iPod.
He gave her a contrite look as he sat down next to her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just wondered where you wanted to go for dinner this evening?"
She shook her head. "I've no idea. Impress me, Mr Smith."
He gave her a manic grin. "Ooh, a challenge, Doctor Jones? I love a challenge!"
"Just don't give me another heart attack, that's all I ask." She frowned. "Well that and that you don't take me somewhere that we'll end up having to run for our lives, please."
He drew an X across both his hearts at once. "Cross my hearts and hope not to regenerate," he answered with another grin.
She shook her head but he could see she was smiling; he leant forward, placing a hand either side of her body on the sofa arm behind her, and rested his forehead against hers.
"I'm really glad you agreed to this trip," he said softly. "I have missed you."
She reached up and slid her arms around his neck. "Missed you too. Missed all of this actually," she answered just as softly.
He moved his arms to hug her and they simply sat, holding each other silently for several long moments until the Doctor reluctantly pulled away.
"Right then, Martha Jones, I believe you challenged me to impress you?
She gave him a grin, eyes sparkling with mischief and merriment. "I did."
"Then I shall see what I can do." He stood up and gave her a very proper salute, then turned smartly on his heel and marched out, arms swinging, with Martha's laughter trailing after him.
She shook her head, then picked up the bag of marshmallows, her empty mug, her iPod and her book; she took the first two items back to the kitchen and the second two back to her room, then she made her way through the corridors to the Control Room.
"So, where are we going?" she asked, seeing him doing his usual manic dance around the console and knowing they were now in flight, rather than simply hanging in the Vortex.
"We are going to Arcateen V," he answered.
"And what's special about Arcateen V?" she asked, knowing he loved it when she asked him questions.
"It's home to a race of Butterfly People, a group of whom are famous, throughout some sectors of the universe, as Star Poets."
"Butterfly People?" She frowned thoughtfully, trying to figure out what they must look like. "Sounds interesting," she said.
"Oh you'll find it very interesting, I promise." He gave her one of his heart-stopping smiles and she couldn't help smiling back.
"With any luck we're going to arrive in time for the bi-annual Poetry Festival. It's always a very special event, and the Spring Festival is generally quite breathtaking."
"Have you been many times?" Martha asked curiously.
He shook his head. "I've only managed to get there twice, both times for the Spring Festival."
He paused his movements to give her an appraising look. "I think we should find you something rather special to wear, though," he said.
"What about you?"
"I shall wear my tux," he said. His expression became distant and thoughtful, and she wondered if he was remembering when he'd worn it to LazLabs, or if he'd worn it since for some adventure she hadn't been around to experience.
"So what am I going to wear?" she asked, gently pulling his thoughts back to the present.
He gave her a bright grin, sloughing off his remembrance of Astrid and the doomed Titanic, and sauntered across to take her arm. "Let's go and see what the TARDIS has to offer, shall we?"
* * * * * *
The Doctor had discovered a variety of dresses in different styles and colours, and ten minutes later Martha was browsing through the two rails, trying to decide what to wear.
He was leaning against the nearby wall, his gaze fixed on the beautiful young woman before him. It seemed to him that since she'd walked out of the TARDIS eighteen months ago, her increased confidence and maturity from working at UNIT had made her look more lovely than ever.
"What do you think?" Martha asked, breaking in on his thoughts. "Red or gold?" She held up two dresses: one a deep, flawless gold, and the other a rich ruby red.
He shook his head. "I think you'll look gorgeous in either one," he answered.
She blushed, her darker skin taking on a slightly rusty hue. "Thanks," she murmured. She hadn't got used to such forthright compliments from the Doctor yet.
"The red," he said suddenly.
"OK."
"And you'll need shoes, and things." He opened a cupboard and rooted around for a few moments before emerging with a pair of shoes and an evening bag that matched her dress.
Martha shook her head, slightly amused as always, by the fact that the TARDIS could supply whatever was needed.
"Thanks." She draped the dress across her arm, then accepted the shoes and bag from him.
"See you in the Control Room shortly," he said.
"OK."
* * * * * *
Twenty minutes later they met again in the Control Room and the Doctor had to forcibly restrain himself from staring, slack-jawed, at his companion. The dress was strapless and close-fitting in the bodice before flaring out into a wide skirt, and she had left her hair loose about her shoulders: she looked stunning. He couldn't help thinking that anyone, male or female, with eyes in their head would fancy her if they could see her now.
That thought pulled him up short as he realised its full implications. Fortunately the TARDIS arrived on Arcateen V and he managed to pull his wandering wits together again. He bowed to Martha, provoking a giggle from her, then offered her his arm which she accepted, before he led her down the ramp to the door.
"After you," he said, opening the door and gesturing grandly.
She stepped outside and immediately stopped to take in the sights, smells and sounds. The TARDIS was parked on the outskirts of a gleaming city; the air was rich with scents, few of which she recognised, and Martha could hear ethereal singing. There was no obvious sun, but there were hundreds of brightly coloured lights everywhere.
"Ready?" the Doctor asked.
She nodded and accepted his arm again, allowing him to lead the way towards the centre of the city.
It only took a few minutes for Martha to realise that both the singing and the lights were coming from the people, if people they were; she forced herself not to stare openly, but it wasn't easy because they were so fascinating and different to any being she'd seen before. They were humanoid shaped and about six feet tall, although it was hard to be sure since they flew several feet above the ground; their wings looked gauzy and insubstantial, but she wasn't surprised that the wings could hold them up, given that their bodies looked translucent and seemed to be composed of light rather than matter. She could see their skeletons through their skins and noted they had incredibly long, narrow fingers, as well as long black hair that seemed almost to have a life of its own as it flowed away from the beings as they passed. As far as she could tell, their eyes were black and they had no obvious noses.
Martha glanced up at the Doctor to find him watching her reactions with interest.
"We must look quite weird to them," she observed quietly.
A large grin broke out across his face before he tilted his head down towards hers. "Someone else would have said they look weird to us," he commented.
She blinked, a slight frown on her face. "But this is their planet, isn't it?" He nodded. "Then we're the odd ones, because we don't belong here."
He stopped, grinning, then grabbed her up into a hug. "Martha Jones, you are quite brilliant!" he exclaimed.
"And you're not a bit dignified, are you?" she answered with a bemused grin.
He quickly set her back down on her feet, then tweaked her skirt back into its proper shape, before bowing with an apologetic air.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am."
Martha laughed, swatting at his arm. "Fool," she said affectionately. "Come on, where's this Poetry Festival taking place?"
"This way," he answered, taking her hand and leading her through several wide streets towards a building that looked like a football stadium.
She noted as they walked, that there were no cars, bicycles, buses, or cabs, and assumed it was because all the natives could fly.
They reached the entrance to the stadium, and the Doctor flashed his psychic paper at one of the beings who was checking tickets before allowing others inside. The being nodded to them both, then gestured for them to proceed.
"Not very talkative, are they?" Martha commented quietly as the Doctor led her towards a flight of stairs.
"They talk telepathically," he answered, "although they sing vocally, but their language has many more nuances of meaning and emotion than a human brain can process."
"Oh."
He glanced down at her, seeing that she looked disappointed. "Don't worry, you'll still enjoy this," he assured her.
She shrugged one shoulder, willing to humour him, even as she wondered just how much she could hope to understand.
He squeezed her hand, as if understanding her doubts, and then helped her up into the gallery to which they'd been heading.
Looking around, Martha saw that they were in a stadium although there were no seats, which didn't really surprise her since the natives were all fluttering around her. The Doctor led her to the front of the gallery so that their view wouldn't be obscured by the wings around them. She stood by the railing at the front and he stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her back to rest against his body.
"We'll be here for a few hours," he said, "so make yourself as comfortable as possible."
"Thanks."
A few minutes later a being flew into the centre of the stadium, a gentle blue light emanating from its form. It began to sing and the Doctor bent his head to Martha's ear.
"Do you want to understand?"
"Yes."
She felt his fingertips at her temples and then she realised she could 'hear' what the being was singing.
"Welcome friends and distinguished visitors, to the 443rd biannual Poetry Festival of Caritativo, capital city of Arcateen V. As usual you will hear performances from all our most talented Star Poets, and the evening will culminate in a 45 minute poetry slam featuring all the newest young Star Poets."
"A Poetry Slam?" murmured Martha in surprise, as the being waved another forward to take their place in the centre of the field.
You know what a Poetry Slam is? asked the Doctor, and he felt her startled response to his telepathic question.
She craned her neck to look up at his face, her mouth open in amazement.
"Sorry," he said softly, dipping his head down again to speak in her ear. "You don't mind me speaking to you silently, do you?"
She shook her head. "No, you just surprised me."
He kissed her cheek, then put his fingers back to her temples. You just have to think back to me, he told her.
Like this?
Yes. His voice was warm with approval.
I do know what a poetry slam is, she assured him, I just didn't realise anyone off Earth would know.
Ideas spread, he answered simply.
She nodded her understanding and concentrated on the being in the centre of the stadium who was reciting a poem about the beauty of springtime. Poem after poem followed, and Martha found that whilst she couldn't understand the words, she understood the sentiments and emotions that were expressed by the different Star Poets.
Finally, after three hours, the last Star Poet left the field, and there was a few minutes break whilst the youngsters taking part in the Poetry Slam assembled themselves in the middle of the field.
Martha shifted and the Doctor moved his hands away from her face, both of them flexing their arms and legs after standing for so long in one position.
"OK?" he asked and she nodded. He thought she was looking a little tired. "There's a banquet after this, so we should be able to sit down and eat."
She smiled. "That sounds good."
They turned their attention back to the field as the Star Poet who'd kicked things off earlier, began to speak again, introducing the young poets who were now going to compete for a place at the Poetry Academy.
The youngsters took it in turn to move to the centre of the stadium and recite their poem, and Martha once again listened with the aid of the Doctor's telepathic faculties. As the final poet stepped forward she couldn't help sighing softly with relief; whilst the afternoon had been fascinating, it had also been a little tiring to concentrate on understanding the poems and songs she'd heard whilst maintaining a telepathic connection with the Doctor.
"This poem is dedicated to our distinguished visitors, Doctor John Smith and Doctor Martha Jones."
Martha felt the Doctor's startled response as clearly as her own at this announcement and knew this was none of his doing. They listened with bated breath as the young poet recited a lengthy verse about time, space, beauty, strength and steadfast friendship. She was aware of tears on her cheeks and guessed from the sound of the Time Lord's breathing, that he was also crying silently.
The poem finished and the audience burst into a spontaneous paean of praise to the young poet. The two visitors, the dedicatees of the poem, were almost oblivious to the audience's response as they wrapped their arms around each other and clung together. Eventually they became aware that two of the Butterfly People were hovering at a discreet distance and they pulled apart to look up at the beings beside them, recognising the Star Poet who had been acting as the announcer, and the youngster who had dedicated his poem to them.
Introductions were made, and then Martha and the Doctor found themselves making their way back to the ground, and following the two poets through the backstage area to a large dining hall where they were shown to seats at a table on the dais.
Martha wondered if there were going to be speeches before the meal, and was relieved when there was a simple invitation to eat.
She was surprised when the Star Poet, who had told her to call him Max since his full name was unpronounceable for humans, offered her a small silver pendant shaped like pan pipes. The Doctor quickly explained that it would allow her to communicate telepathically with her hosts without needing his intervention, so she accepted the pendant from Max and allowed the Doctor to fasten it around her neck.
After that conversation between the Butterfly People, the human and the Time Lord flowed smoothly, and although Martha initially preferred to concentrate on her food and listen, she was soon drawn into the conversation between Max and the Doctor as the latter talked about meeting Shakespeare, of whom Max knew.
"And so you have inspired two poets now," Max commented, when the Time Lord revealed that Martha had been the Bard's inspiration.
She felt her cheeks heat up, embarrassed by the idea of inspiring anyone. "Yes."
"It is not so surprising," the Star Poet observed. "Poets are drawn to grace and beauty, to strength and passion. All of these you embody Martha."
She ducked her head, flushing properly now.
"I beg your pardon, I did not intend to embarrass you," Max assured her. "But of course, you're naturally a modest person." He smiled. "I will spare your blushes. Doctor, would you and your companion care to spend the night here in the city with us? We do not often get visitors and it would be an honour to show you the Poetry Academy tomorrow."
The Time Lord raised an eyebrow at Martha and she heard him speak privately in her mind. "Would you like to stay? It's your choice."
"Yes please."
"We'd be honoured," the Doctor told Max.
"Excellent. I'll go and arrange some accommodation for you." He got up and flew away.
Martha felt the Doctor's hand close over hers as it rested on the table. "OK?" he asked gently.
"A bit tired," she answered, "and slightly overwhelmed."
He nodded his understanding, then lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. "Max spoke the truth," he told her. "If I was any kind of poet, I'd have written an epic for you by now."
Before Martha could work out how to answer that, Max returned with a youngster who would, he told them, take them to their guest suite.
"We shall meet again in the morning," Max said.
"I look forward to it," Martha assured him truthfully.
To her relief, their accommodation was only a few minutes distant from the stadium, and five minutes later the Doctor was letting them into the suite of rooms they had been assigned. Ten minutes later, Martha was enjoying a luxurious bubble bath in the opulent bathroom attached to their suite.
When she emerged wrapped in a large, fluffy bathrobe, she found the Doctor standing by the window in the main room. He'd removed his jacket and when he turned to her, seeing her reflection in the window, she saw he'd unfastened his bow tie so that it was now hanging loosely around his neck, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Relaxed," she answered, crossing the room to stand at his side.
"Good." He put his arm around her shoulders and she tucked herself into his side; he gave a soft sigh and she looked up into his face.
"You OK?" she asked.
He looked down at her and smiled. "I am now," he answered.
She smiled back. "Thank you for bringing me here."
"You're very welcome, Doctor Jones," he answered. "Now, unless I'm very much mistaken, you could do with some sleep?"
She nodded.
"Off to bed with you then," he said. "I'll see you in the morning at breakfast." He kissed her forehead, then let go of her, careful to hide his reluctance at moving.
She stood up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then headed into her room, and the Doctor went back to staring out of the window, wondering just when he'd fallen in love with Martha Jones, and what he was going to do about it, given she was now engaged.
"For a Time Lord, you have lousy timing," he told himself.