The idea behind this fic is that from the series you get the impression that life with The Doctor is one massive escapade after another, but more importantly that is his comfort-zone. I wanted to explore what would happen if The Doctor was forced to kick back and relax on the TARDIS for a while. I guess in its own way, it explains how the Family of Blood first catch on to The Doctor's trail and how the events of Human Nature are set in motion…

It was late at night…or early in the morning, or even possibly sometime in the afternoon. That was one thing Martha had learned while travelling in the TARDIS, it was impossible to have any real concept of time – all part and parcel of being able to appear at any point in time in the blink of an eye.

"I'm scared…I'm so scared" The Doctor whimpers, thrashing feverishly. Martha always falters at this point, at a loss as to how to calm him down.

"J-just stay calm" she chokes "You saved me; now I return the favour" She promises. Then that joystick, as clear as day. She closes her eyes briefly to steel herself, and then slowly pushes it forward, and with it The Doctor is conveyed into the stasis chamber. It is always punctuated, always ended by the same bone chilling scream that shakes her to her very core.

"AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHH-!"

Martha woke with a start bolt up upright in bed, briefly disorientated and tangled in bed sheets. Her heart was galloping at a mile a minute and she was drenched in sweat, like she was still plummeting towards the sun. It had been some time since the events upon the S.S Pentallian, and Martha had been sleeping poorly ever since.

~Earlier~

The Doctor, had darted around as eager as a child, pressing buttons and tugging on levers as he whizzed around the vast control room like a firework.

"So! Where to next, Miss Jones? The entire universe is at our disposal!" He flexed his fingers before hovering poised over one of the various consoles. He was talking in that way that always made Martha laugh and believe anything was possible; life with him was certainly working out that way. Up until recently she would have thought the idea of time travel to be silly…child's play, even. His energy was infectious, and when they were on an adventure together the effects of sleep deprivation were minimal, there was so much adrenaline involved that she felt she could keep going for days - there was no real time to register tiredness. But when the adventures were over and they returned to the TARDIS it was becoming a real effort not to just drop to the floor once she staggered over the threshold. All this aside something was different this time; somehow she just couldn't be bothered - her energy was officially at zilch.

"Don't you TimeLords ever sleep?" She asked with a small smile, settling down in a particularly squishy-looking armchair before gazing up at him curiously. The Doctor had arranged for two armchairs with a coffee table to be moved to the console room from the library to make the room more comfy, at Martha's insistence. It had dawned on her that she had never seen the Doctor give any indication that he wanted to slow down. On the contrary the end of one adventure simply left him keyed up for the next; he seemed to function like a child in the throes of a never-ending sugar rush. He gave her that look then; the unfaltering stare coupled with a cock of the eyebrow that suggested she was never going to get all the details of what came out of his mouth next – for whatever reason he was being cautious.

"Us Timelords have less of a need for sleep than humans, Martha Jones" Saying her full name took the sting out of the solemnity of his voice.

"Yeah, ok fine…but when was the last time you slept?" She probed. He didn't respond for a few seconds. From the acute look of grief that sliced through the through the stubborn mystique, Martha suddenly understood the significance of that look – definitely Rose-related.

"Y'know, it gets away from me" He murmured vaguely. So he wasn't going to answer her then.

"That's what I thought" Martha responded jauntily, not missing a beat to prevent him from slipping into that dark place he always fleetingly sank into, whenever Rose was at the forefront of his mind "Well, us humans need time to recharge. I think we should take an evening off" She clapped her hands together enthusiastically before she stood up and headed towards the door.

"What? What?!" The Doctor spluttered "Where are you going?" he whined almost plaintively.

"Moi? I'm going for a bath" Martha announced triumphantly, "I've been doing my detective work while you've been busy and I know you've got at least one or two bathrooms kicking around. You'd be surprised how often studying and family life can get in the way of a nice bubble bath"

"And what am I supposed to do? Join you? I don't do baths, who has time for baths?" The Doctor was incredulous. Martha had half –turned towards the door at this point, mainly because the image of them sharing a bath made her cheeks burn hot and her stomach coiled uncomfortably. She wished he understood the impact of such throwaway comments, and threw a casual shrug to compensate while she composed herself.

"You're the Doctor, I'm sure you'll figure something out – why don't you recalibrate your electric screwdriver or something?"

"It's a sonic screwdriver" He corrected with exasperation "And I recalibrated it earlier" he added so quickly it came out as one word.

She clapped her hand to her mouth to hide the smile quickly spreading across her face and coyly looked down at her feet, enjoying this rare occasion to get a rise out of him – of course she knew it was a sonic screwdriver, he had made enough of a big deal out of it while they were on the moon for her to ever forget that. She saw his eyes flick instantly towards the main control panel, and sighed good-naturedly before disappearing to the bathroom.

"Humans!" The Doctor called mockingly after her "You have the whole of time and space at your disposal, and you choose to take a bath!"

That had been how the evening of relaxation began, Martha had returned from her bath feeling thoroughly relaxed to find the Doctor typing away on one of the consoles.

"Ah! There you are!" He exclaimed eagerly as she approached his side, his eyes not leaving the screen. The picture of an important looking man flashed up on screen "Claudius Galenus! One of the best medical researchers in history! Where better to swot up the history of medicine and anatomy?" He was practically fizzing with giddiness "Sure I can't tempt you?"

"I'm not biting!" Martha sang "Maybe some other time" The Doctor looked at her then, and gave a loud disappointed groan

"What are you wearing?"

"It's called a dressing gown; I found it on the back of the bathroom doors". Martha said smugly, snuggling her face in the fluffy fabric. She fleetingly wondered whether she had annoyed him by taking it without asking, but then figured that he probably had a little more to worry about than clothes. "I even found some matching…PYJAMAS!" With that, Martha flung open her dressing gown and flashed him, revealing a fleecy two piece set. The Doctor realised then that he was fighting a losing battle and sighed deeply.

"Fine!" He finally turning away from the screens and giving Martha his undivided attention "So what shall we do this…evening?" Martha smiled up at him, sleepy-eyed. His voice had taken on a gravelly and unintentionally seductive quality, almost like he was flirting with her. She wasn't having any of it, not that night.

"I want to go to bed". Her eyes suddenly widened "N-not with you! Though I wouldn't say no if you said yes! But not like that!" She spluttered before dropping her frantic gesticulating hands to her sides. She paused for a beat "That, right there is why I need sleep".

After some light-hearted jibes about being forced to babysit, The Doctor escorted Martha to a more permanent-looking bedroom compared to the one she had been catching quick naps in, which had looked exactly like a shipmates sleeping quarters. This one seemed to have an endless walk-in wardrobe – not that Martha was complaining! After bidding The Doctor goodnight she clambered into the double bed and dropped to sleep almost instantly, instead of lying awake and fretting about the Doctor like she had anticipated.

~Presently~

Recovering from her nightmare, Martha flopped back down while waiting for her breathing to return to normal. She knew exactly why that moment when The Doctor screamed had shaken her so deeply; ever since she first met him Martha was under the impression that The Doctor was always in complete control of the situation – though she had it on good authority from The Doctor himself that he had often blagged his way out of tight situations. But to see him so completely and utterly reliant on her, even for those few minutes…amongst a few other emotions that she wasn't ready to understand, it was really scary. She had woken up absolutely parched, and decided to fetch a glass of water and check on The Doctor. Sliding her dressing gown on over her pyjamas, she stepped into some slippers and padded out into the corridor. After happening across the on-board kitchen, she took the opportunity to get a quick drink of water before continuing on to the control room. Normally she would have been able to hear him distinctly babbling excitedly to himself in the absence of company, but instead there was an eerie silence.

"Doctor?" She called walking hesitantly down the corridor while listening carefully; when the only response was from the TARDIS with its steady whirring and sporadic beeping - she picked up her pace slightly and frowned to herself. Amongst the many things she marvelled about The Doctor, he had a very keen sense of hearing; able to hear under the breath retorts from a distance far beyond the capability of a human. Honestly, sometimes it was all she could do not to just gape at him in wonder. She shuffled down the maze of corridors and out into the main control room.

Her eyes flicked around, searching for movement and settled on the back of the large armchair she herself had been sat in earlier; over the back of it she had spotted the top of the Doctor's wild hair, was he absorbed in a book? She approached him gingerly, not wanting to disturb or startle him if he was busy. Normally he paced around, even when reading so the book must have been particularly interesting. "…Doctor?" She repeated softly, and what she saw when she peeped around the side of the chair stopped her in her tracks. The Doctor was slumped back in the armchair, a large book crooked in his lap; one of his elbows was propped on the arm of the chair with his fist was supporting his temple as though he was contemplating something, but his eyes were closed and he was snoring softly. The Doctor was sound asleep, his glasses perilously close to sliding off the end of his nose. Martha had never seen the Doctor so much as yawn so she drank in this unusual and endearing sight greedily, committing it to memory; a smile spreading softly across her face. She pulled her dressing gown closely around her as she contemplated this marvellous man, his face so friendly yet guarded in wakefulness had dissolved into complete vulnerability in rest. He slept peacefully without so much as a scowl or a whimper...how could that be? His lips were parted slightly as he continued to snore, but it was adorable rather than hilarious. She lost track of how long she had been stood watching him, before she carefully took the book from him and placed it on the table in front of him. She went on to slowly remove his glasses, and setting them on the book. Finally she took off her fleecy dressing gown, which she instantly regretted, and covered him so he wouldn't get cold. Not that he'd need it, but it was the thought that counted.

"Goodnight, Doctor". Martha whispered softly before heading back to bed.