This story was originally inspired by Christina Rossetti's sonnet 'Remember', which I feel reflects the relationship between the Doctor and Rose at the end of series 2 perfectly.

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no longer hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be too late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that I once had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

In this story I am obviously speculating over many things, not least the character of Martha. Seeing as none of us know what she will be like, I have taken it upon myself to write her character myself. I have also decided that she hails from Earth, like Rose. As far as I am aware we have been told nothing to the contrary so far, but this may well be a wrong assumption. Time will tell. No doubt in a year's time I will look back and laugh at it, but right now I have nothing else to go on but what I see in my mind! I am also taking some science-fiction liberties in making the apparently impossible happen. However, I suppose in Doctor Who anything is possible! Anyway, obviously what I write does not reflect the events of how ever the real series 3 will pan out so I can adjust things to a certain extent, to make them fit my story!

I hope you enjoy it. Reviews are always welcome!

I I I I I I I I I I I

"What's that noise?"

"What noise?" The Doctor turned to Martha with a confused look on his face, his fingers subconsciously still tapping away at a keypad on the TARDIS' central controls.

"That – that whirring." Martha held up a hand to silence the sound of the Doctor's fingers on the computer. He obediently stopped what he was doing for a moment. Lifting his head, he scanned the TARDIS with his eyes and ears, as alert as a police dog tracking a scent.

Or possibly not so alert. "Nope," he announced confidently, returning his attention to the computer. "I don't hear any – whoa!" He stopped mid-word as the TARDIS jolted violently.

"What on earth was that?" Martha queried, rushing over to join the Doctor and positioning herself so she could peer at the screen from behind him. She had not even begun to comprehend how the TARDIS functioned but she liked to look at it all the same. 'Rose picked it up much more quickly,' he had told her once, but she had decided not to take this as insult. She had learnt very quickly that Rose had done many things Martha had not and realised his comments were not to be taken to heart.

"I think the Old Girl's trying to tell us something," the Doctor laughed, taking the foreign, and rather aggressive, movement of his ship far too lightly for Martha's liking. He gave the controls an affectionate pat. Or rather, a whack. Martha was (pleasantly) surprised that some mechanism did not spontaneously combust from the strength and enthusiasm of his gesture. He went on. "Maybe she doesn't fancy a trip to revolutionary France right now."

"Well, that's just fine," Martha replied in an instant. "Let's go somewhere else."

"Oh, Martha, I am disappointed," the Doctor replied, shaking his head in mock despair. "It would have taken a lot more than a jolt to discourage Rose."

Martha let this comment pass her by. She turned from the centre of the TARDIS and began to wander aimlessly. "Let me think," she began. "I always quite fancied seeing the Beatles perform live. But early on, mind you. Before they took off. It's so much better-"

"Uh, uh," the Doctor interrupted. "Revolutionary France is what you wanted, and that's just what you're going to get."

"Doctor, I only picked it because you put me on the spot and that was the first thing that came to mind." The Doctor turned to her with a questioning look on his face. "Mr Hodges. GCSE history," she explained. "They were the only lessons I ever looked forward to."

"All the more reason to go. Bringing history to life. You're about to have an experience that millions of school children would give their right arm for. Or maybe even their heads." The Doctor grinned, pleased with himself. "Heads – the French revolution – the guillotine?" he explained, killing the joke in one fell swoop.

"I get it, Doctor," Martha replied with a despairing shake of her head. "I'll have you know you got an A."

"Good for you." The Doctor's fingers once again began to dance over the keyboard as he started murmuring to himself. "She's just being a little stubborn, that's all. I just need to override- And configure- That's it. Just one more-" With a flourish, he tapped one final key and spun round with extreme enthusiasm. "Right. That's that. Maybe you should go and get changed."

"Excuse me?" Martha self-consciously glanced down at her outfit. "Are you implying something?"

"The ideas may have been revolutionary, Martha, but miniskirts were still not exactly acceptable."

"Fair point. Give me a minute."

"You'll have to be quick if we want to beat the crowds at Louis 16th's execution."

"Doctor!"

"Well, we can't exactly help him, can we? And seeing as we're there…if you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

Martha shuddered involuntarily. "I don't care how educational it is, Doctor, I'm not watching someone have his head chopped off."

"You're no fun, are you?" the Doctor chided, but with a smile on his face. He watched Martha pull a face at him and then turn to leave, when all of a sudden the TARDIS jolted once again. Martha stumbled, grabbing hold of the nearest surface to keep her balance. The Doctor rushed back over to the computer. His fingers nimbly floated over the keys. Martha almost forgot her panic as she marvelled at his apparent unlimited knowledge of all things…well, of all things. But she was soon disturbed from her admiration when the TARDIS began to shake. Not just one single jolt, but a series of violent movements, as though the ship was battling some outside force. The Doctor's typing became increasingly urgent.

"What's going on?" Struggling to stay on her feet, Martha attempted to reach the Doctor.

"Hold on to something," he instructed, the urgency in his voice making Martha feel even more nervous. "Tightly."

"What's going on, Doctor?"

"I don't know."

Martha was not prepared for this reply. "How can you not know?"

"Very easily, it seems." He stopped typing and began to play with some buttons and knobs on the central controls. "Hold on," he repeated.

Martha took hold of a pole and wrapped an arm around it to battle the constant vibrations of the TARDIS, which were trying desperately to force her to the floor. She watched as the Doctor carefully studied the controls, himself struggling to stay on his feet. Decisively, he flicked a switch and then took hold of the centre of the TARDIS. "Fingers crossed," he announced, with a goofy grin.

"That's not exactly scientific."

"It's all I've got, right now."

Martha did not have time to reply as the TARDIS stopped shaking with one violent jerk, ten times the strength of those that had preceded it. She was unable to keep hold of the TARDIS as she felt her body fly across the room. Her leg hit something hard as she landed. "Ouch!" she yelled, resisting the urge to shout something very different. That was going to leave a bruise. When she looked up, the Doctor was studying the screen. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking. I knew the French revolution was turbulent, but-" The lack of any response rattled Martha. Looking up, she noted that the Doctor's head was moving closer and closer to the screen. He was muttering something to himself. "May I?" she asked, standing up and moving over to the TARDIS door. The fact that the Doctor did not immediately vehemently refuse convinced Martha there could be no real threat outside. It was still with caution that she pushed the door open, however. A fresh breeze immediately hit her. She glanced outside. "Doctor, I don't think we're in France."

"I know." It was his first words since they had landed.

"It looks like England, Doctor." Glancing around, Martha tried to assimilate her surroundings. After a moment she pushed the door closed, shivering from the cold wind outside. "If I'm not mistaken, we're in London. And judging by the aeroplane that was flying over head, it's not the 18th century."

"It's the present day, Martha."

"Oh. How did we end up here? It's not quite where we were headed, is it?"

"It's even further than you think." And then, to himself. "This isn't possible."

"What's not possible, Doctor?"

"This is Earth, Martha, but not the one you're thinking of."

"What do you mean?"

"It can't be," the Doctor murmured, as though he was still convincing himself of what the answer to her question was.

"Where are we, Doctor?" Martha asked, with an increasing sense of urgency.

"We're on Earth. But we're in an alternate universe."