CHAPTER 1 - The Walls are Broken -------------------
Martha Jones stepped out of the TARDIS, blocking the sun from her face with a hand.
Shutting the door behind her, she began a stroll about the park in which they'd landed; a few people were walking and talking, accompanied with their kids, others by dogs; a senior couple were sat on a bench, husband deep in sleep and wife attempting a SuDoku; kids played in a small sandpit, a girl determined on building a sturdy sandtower while two boys duelled with their plastic spades; a young couple were running around, the man chasing the woman - every time he got close enough, he drew her in close with his arms and tickled her playfully, causing her to giggle and squeal uncontrollably.
Martha was surprised how, after all the places she'd visited, after everything she'd seen, Earth could seem so alien to her. She wasn't used to...normality.
Was this the sacrifice to be made when travelling with the Doctor? To become so used to this frantic lifestyle, never stopping to catch a breath, that she would lose what is essentially her own "normality"? Her home?
She smiled fondly upon noticing a patch of bluebells; her father's favourite flower. She stopped to take in the scent, sweet and crisp, her mind filling with memories of him. That was something the Doctor had never asked her about: her family. How long had it been since she'd last spoken to her dad? Days? Months? Years? Another problem with this lifestyle: you lose track of time, in more ways than one.
There was a point. Where was she, and, probably the more sensible question to ask, when?
The Doctor had just upped and left. She had made a mistake, she admitted - she vowed never to touch the TARDIS' control panel again - but ditching her like this seemed a bit unfair. However, she felt incapable of arguing with him at the time; his whole manner, not to mention the look he passed her way, told her that any attempt in defending herself would have been useless. It was a look she'd never seen in him before.
Wherever they were, whenever they were, he didn't want to be here.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Doctor's thoughts were a mess. He himself was surprised at how he'd reacted to being here, disbelieving of the readings the TARDIS' screens had displayed - more impossibilities that kept being proven possible. How in all the universes could they have wound up *here*? And why, of all places, did it have to be *here*?
A sudden pang of guilt hit him as he remembered how he'd treated Martha. "Curiosity killed the cat, I s'ppose..." he mumbled.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Anything else with that, m'am?"
"No, that'll be all thanks," Martha replied and smiled at the waiter, who strode off towards the kitchen. She thought he was handsome, behind the large spectacles, with kind eyes and wavy blonde locks of hair. No doubt he had some flaws, she thought.
The small cafe seemed out of place. The surroundings, as Martha had discovered on her quick trek around the area, were fairly rough. Council flats lined the streets, graffiti cropped up regularily and the smell of fish and chips was inescapable, so she was grateful to find a cozy little tearoom. Tea was something she had missed.
She wandered where the Doctor was, and what he was doing, with a burning to desire to apologise to him. He had mentionned an "impossibility", or something similar when fuming upon arrival, and his face had paled when he glanced at the readings on one of the TARDIS' monitors. The look he had given her afterwards had assured her of the gravity of what she'd done, although she was clueless as to what that actually was.
She was in London; street signs told her that. The looks she had gotten when inquiring after the year were embarassing, to say the least, but, after much assurance of her sanity, a self-claimed 'gangsta' called Mick told her it was 2014 (which immediately prompted Martha into calculating all the ages of people she knew; she was shocked realising she would now be in her thirties). Buying a paper from the local newsagents got her up to speed on a few turn of events that had happened in the last seven years. She was particularily surprised by a few political bulletins, including several attempts on Bush's life, aswell as the rapid progress made with the International Space Station, although she scoffed when reading " 'Leona - Greatest Hits' goes quadruple Platinum in under Six Weeks." Obviously people's taste in music doesn't improve with time.
Her nose informed her of the steaming pot of tea now on the table, the aroma drawing her back to reality. She hadn't even noticed the waiter placing it infront of her. Feeling bad, she glanced round the room, eyes seeking him out. Finding him, he looked up at her, on cue, from the counter across the room and, noticing the apologetic look in her eyes, winked at her. Embarassed, her eyes darted to avoid his gaze and she felt her cheeks warm and redden. He smiled warmly at her, and she couldn't help but giggle.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Doctor had resolved not to just sit around and worry. Of all the things to be concerned about, he was surprised how the situation he was in had taken top priority. He'd confronted some of the fiercest beings in creation, put his life on the line countless times. "Lucky to be alive...?" he muttered. "Nah, just too good."
Oddly, self-assurance wasn't working. In no way was his life now in danger - well, that is if you omit the possibility of a road accident, or a knifing, or an explosion in the general area, or an asteroid hitting the Earth, or a shooting, or both his hearts failing - yet here, more than anywhere, he was afraid of being.
Genuinely afraid.
He did a U-turn on the pavement, walking back to find Martha, to get in the TARDIS and to leave this place.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His name was Lloyd.
He worked mornings 'till early afternoon, so his shift had ended at two o'clock. For a reason Martha couldn't quite explain, she had waited around in the cafИ for some time, more than a few hours, and was thoroughly pleased when - having discarded his apron and bid his colleagues goodbye for the day - Lloyd had asked her if he could take her for a drink.
"You work in a *cafe*. Don't you get bored of drinks?" To this, she had received a mock-confused look, followed by a hearty laugh, before he had grabbed her hand and whisked her out into the street in search of the nearest bar.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He hadn't called.
He always called when he finished work. Always. What was different about today?
"Oi, little madam, for the last time speed it up! Your lunch is practically frozen to the plate! And don't you think I'll reheat it for you! Cats are looking awfully hungry..."
She smiled at her mother's voice, bellowing over the intercom. "Be there in a sec mum," she returned.
"You said that five minutes ago!" was her reply, followed by an over-exaggerated sigh. "I mean it, I'll feed it to the cats!"
The woman laughed, "Okay, okay. I'm coming."
Standing up from her office chair, she looked out of the window. So high up; London stretched for miles into the distance, small figures of people busying away with their lives below. Normal lives.
Walking out of the room, she remembered she'd left something and doubled-back on herself. When she came out of the room a second time, the only change to her was an object she now wore on her person.
Around her neck, on a chain, there was a small, golden key.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I'm sorry that, of all the places to go, I could find no more exotic than 'The Boar's Head'," he apologised sarcastically, taking another swig of his drink. Martha smiled. She observed that, glasses removed - used for reading and writing purposes only - he did indeed have very handsome features. His face was angular and well-toned, and his stubble gave it a rugged edge. His eyes were a deep cerulean colour, always very focused on something, and his eyebrows grew in such a way that, when relaxed, they arched ever so slightly and gave him a constantly mellowed look. She liked his hair, too, fairly long and wavy and loose. He regularily brushed back one particular lock which fell infront of his left eye from time to time.
"If you like, I could give you a magnifying glass."
He'd noticed. How long had she been looking at him for? Martha stumbled for words, "No, really that's not....well, I mean I uh....you don't have to...not that I was...you know...." She quickly found and downed a large volume of her drink - too much - causing her to choke and cough. God, she felt stupid.
Lloyd laughed warmly, patting her on the back. "Whoah, slow down," he said cheerfully, "can't have you dying on me now, can we?"
Martha gave him a grateful look. "Sorry," she replied, coughing once more, "I didn't mean to...well, stare..."
He chuckled, "Oh please, we all like to be admired once in a while and, besides, it gave me a chance to appreciate your eyes. Very beautiful l'il orbs you've got there."
Martha stared at him incredulously. "We've only just met, and here you are flirting with me! And, might I add, blatantly!"
Lloyd faked a stung look, "Well, if you'd rather I stopped, that can be arranged." He gave her a boyish grin. "And, might *I* add, what other kind of flirting is there?"
Putting on a posh accent, Martha jested, "It's called 'subtlety', my dear." She smiled, before continuing. "But, I suppose, I shouldn't expect a ruffian such as yourself to be able grasp the concept of such a thing."
Llyod gave her a mock death-glare, and she just burst out laughing.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Walking at a slightly brisker pace than normal, the Doctor searched the streets for Martha. Occassionally, he'd stop a passer-by: "'Scuse-me, you haven't seen a woman have you? Tall, dark-skinned, wacky hair...? Nope? Oh..."; "Hello? Yes, you...have you seen a certain 'Martha Jones' wandering around?"; "Beg pardon, have you seen a girl...well, not a girl, a lady...well, I say a lady...oh never mind."
A half-hour later, leaving a few distressed pedestrians in his wake, The Doctor resigned at being social and let his eyes, ears and nose do the work.
"Wow, that worked surprisingly well," he commented to himself, almost instantly noticing Martha in a pub window. "Wait a minute, who's that with...?" He noticed a man sitting across from her, smiling fondly as she blushed at something he'd said. He'd left her alone for how long? And, already, she was on a date.
He rolled his eyes; "Women."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sitting with her mother around a table, picking at her food with a fork in one hand, the blonde-haired woman stared vacantly at the wall, twiddling the golden key in the other. He still hadn't called.
"Something's on your mind? Busy day in the office?"
She grunted. "It's always busy in the off..." she trailed off, and shook her head slightly. This is her mother she was talking to; after all they'd been through, she could never keep a secret from her. "Sorry mum...I wasn't completely with it."
"I'll say. You've barely touched your salad, " her mother replied.
She smiled warmly at her. "This salad? As in the salad that will 'need reheating'?"
Her mother chuckled slightly at the joke. "There, see, you smiled! You *can* smile! Now, if only you'd do it more..."
The girl sighed, "Oh, I would, it's just..." she paused for a minute, "well, Lloyd didn't call today, and you know as well as I do that that's unusual." She thought about what she'd said for a second. "Actually, it's a first."
"Oh, think nothing of it sweetheart. Llyod's a nice lad. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable excuse - maybe his phone's died, or something important's come up."
"Yeah," the girl mused to herself and forced a smile. "Yeah, you're probably right." She put down her fork and rubbed her forehead with the free hand, the golden key still twiddling in the other.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What's all this?" the Doctor queried at Martha upon walking into the bar. "We have one tiny row, and I find you in the company of another man." He strolled purposefully up to the table she shared with Lloyd. "Am I really that forgettable?"
She stood up, defiantly, angered by the Doctor's carefree manner. She expected any minute now for him to begin repromanding her again. However, the Doctor's gaze was soft and he regarded Martha with honest eyes: "I'm sorry."
Martha blinked. It took a second to register that he'd just apologised to her, angered as she was; he had, after all, abandoned her and scolded her for something she'd done, which she STILL didn't know *exactly* what was. But she did know the Doctor wasn't a man to be angered for no reason. His life experience eclipsed hers, as it always would, and he'd been travelling for centuries. She should have shown him the respect he deserved, and listened to him when he'd said not to touch anything in the TARDIS. "No," she replied, "I am. You have nothing to be sorry for."
Her sincerety surprised the Doctor - it even surprised herself - but he returned the apology with a massive grin. "Come here," he said, and pulled her into an embrace.
"By the way," Martha added in his arms, "F.Y.I, I don't think anyone could forget you if they tried." They both laughed at this.
"I'm sorry, who is this man?"
Martha quickly pushed away from the Doctor with a jerk, sending him backwards a few inches. She'd completely forgotten Lloyd was still sat there, and he looked slightly put out.
"I could ask you the same question," the Doctor answered before she could, regaining his balance.
Martha figured she should get involved before it got too...well, involved. "Okay then, it looks like introductions are in order. Lloyd, I'd like you to meet the Doctor. Just the Doctor, really, nothing else, and Doctor I'd like you to meet Ll --"
"What did you say?"
Interrupted, Martha looked at Lloyd, who stared back at her with wide eyes. He glanced at the Doctor, his face as if he'd just seen a ghost. "His name," Lloyd continued, finger raised, pointing at the Doctor, "what did you say his name was?" There was urgency in his question.
"Martha, I think we should leave," the Doctor interjected, "now." Worry was everywhere in his voice.
"You're him, aren't you?"
The Doctor just stood there, said nothing.
"This is preposterous," Lloyd continued in disbelief, "she *always* goes on about you, all your adventures." There was a pause as he eyed him up. "How could you do it to her?"
The Doctor's face was expressionless, "You speak as if I had a choice, like I could have done something." His eyes were moist. "And, believe me, I wish I could've. But I couldn't; she made her own decision."
Lloyd's eyes glazed over with pure contempt in that instant. "You ruined her life. *You* did, and you have the nerve to say it was her own fault?! You --"
"I didn't say she was to blame!" the Doctor snapped. "But she made the decision. *She* did. She sacrificed herself, for everyone back home." He added with a wry smile, "She saved the world, every last person...and nobody knows."
Martha was just a little confused, "Sorry, Doctor, not that I know who you're talking about, but what do you mean 'back home'? This is Earth, isn't it...? Where exactly are we?"
Lloyd looked at Martha then, very seriously. "Is this her then, Doctor? The replacement?"
The Doctor looked pained by this, and then it clicked for Martha. "Rose," she said simply.
"Rose," Lloyd repeated, "Yes, Rose Tyler."
