Past Tense

The first thing Martha was aware of was a hand on her ankle stopping her from getting up off the ground. "No, don't do that." The Doctor groaned, staring face up at the tall buildings that surrounded them. "I already tried it… and it wasn't fun."

Her head spun wildly as she dragged herself into a sitting position. "Right. No standing. Gotcha…" Martha sighed. She looked around very slowly, not wanting to set off another dizzy spell. Looked like they were in a back alley somewhere. There was an underground garage with a few vintage cars… And it looked absolutely nothing like the Wester Drumlin House, where they had been moments ago. "Where are we?"

…

Of course, that had been several weeks ago and the cars weren't vintage. Martha was down on her knees fastening the buckle of a very pretty pair of black patent shoes on a young girl. "There you go. Fit for a princess!" The young girl smiled a gap-toothed smile back at Martha who pressed the top of the shoe. "And plenty of growing room too."

"I expect we'll be back by Summer's end for another pair." The young girl's mother sighed. "They grow so fast." Martha packaged the shoes and brought them up to Mr Jameson the shop owner for the woman to pay. It was Martha's way with a particularly hysterical child that had gotten her the job. She had seen a sign in the shop window looking for a saleswoman. Martha offered to do a demonstration to show him she could do the job because she had "lost" her references. Five minutes and one happy child later, Martha had a job… which was just as well because, as per usual, the Doctor was rubbish as a human and had lasted barely a day in the one job he'd managed to get in an electrical shop. It was safer to keep him away from the general workforce.

It was getting easier to live in 1969. The first couple of weeks had been a nightmare as they'd literally arrived there with nothing but the clothes they were wearing. No proper money because it was pre-decimal pounds, shillings and pence, no valid id to sign on to get money, nowhere to live and no means of getting a place. Through some judicious use of the psychic paper and pawning some of the things the Doctor would find in his pockets from time to time, they just about scraped through the first frightening week. What made things worse was all the Doctor could focus on was getting Martha back to her own time, surmising that he could send her to meet one of his past selves and hitch her way home. Martha nixed that idea immediately. She wasn't leaving him alone, stuck in the sixties, no matter how cool they were… They had a huge row over that. He said he'd looked after himself for hundreds of years before she came along and he'll be doing it for hundreds of years after she leaves. Martha stormed off in a fit of pique. Sod him and his superior attitude! He yelled after in a language she didn't understand, while she was stropping off. She turned around, quite ready to give him a complete verbal bollocking, only to see him looking absolutely shellshocked. The language was his own, Gallifreyan. Now that the TARDIS was no longer nearby, the translations weren't working. Something he'd taken for granted had been taken from him and it completely threw him for a loop. Martha walked back and gave him a hug to reassure The Doctor. They never talked about him leaving her again.

After Martha got her job, flat hunting was the next adventure. A place without a landlord in situ would be preferable as they barely had enough money for a single bedsit, never mind a place for 2. Martha had a few tries first, wandering with a newspaper covered in circles. On her way to one address, she bumped into a young Irish woman who told her not to bother with "Number 63". Turned out to be another house with a "No Blacks, No Irish, No Dogs" sign. With her red hair and fresh complexion, the woman couldn't have been more Irish looking if she tried! They had passed each other in a couple of doorways and had exchanged friendly smiles.

Nora Molloy had moved from Ireland at the age of 20, following the death of her mother. Nora was in the unusual position of having no family living in London to "claim her" and that suited her fine. She trying to get away from small town Ireland. Setting up home in Kilburn would only be giving her more of the same. Eventually, it was Nora who got them a room. When she'd gotten herself sorted in a bedsit, the landlord mentioned that he had another room upstairs. Having sussed out that the landlord didn't care what colour his tenants were, as long as they paid him on time, Nora went looking around the area to see if she could find Martha or her friend. The landlord said he'd give her friend first refusal if she got to the house before lunchtime. For once, the fates were on their side.

It was a grotty little place that made Rising Damp look Buckingham Palace. They promptly named the place Faulty Towers, even made up a small welcome sign for inside the door… Silly really, but they needed some distracting fun. The one advantage the place had was that a cheap plasterboard wall divided what was once a good sized room into 2 smaller ones.. A very small bedroom with a single bed and a chest of drawers and a sittingroom/kitchen with a very lived in sofa (probably fell off the back of a skip!) and no dining table. It gave them both the opportunity to avail of a little privacy. They also had to share the bathroom with the other 4 tenants, including Nora, but it was within their budget and once Martha was sure the landlord wouldn't be sniffing around every other day, the subterfuge of having the 2 of them living together seemed much easier.

There were days when it seemed so hard. The Doctor spent many nights trying to put things together. For the most part he was quiet, but there were times when Martha could hear frustrated grumbling in Gallifreyan in the early hours of the morning and then, later on, she'd find him curled up on the too short sofa, using his jacket as a blanket. She'd never seen him sleep so much. The concentration on building his "timey wimey" thing and having to speak English, instead of having the TARDIS translate was taking its toll. One night, he came in and sat down on the end of her bed, apologising for getting her stuck in the past – again – and having to work in order to look after him – again. He worried that she's regret ever having met him. He just looked so tired… so lost and lonely. Martha simply moved over towards the wall, creating a bit of space for him in the single bed. He was too worn out to argue… it wasn't like they were going to get up to anything… and it wasn't like they hadn't shared a bed before. He simply thanked her and slid under the blankets. Martha woke about an hour later to find her self looking at the back of the Doctor's head with her arm draped across his chest, and his hand, in turn, draped across her arm. She could tell from the regular rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest that he was sound asleep. She hoped he was having good dreams, and quickly nodded off again. By the time her alarm went off, she was by herself again.

There was a constant odd smell in the flat that defied description and never seemed to be affected by the amount of fresh air they tried to circulate around the place, or get masked by the meals they cooked. Oh yes, The Doctor cooked! Very well too. It was an odd reversal of the domestic norms of the era. She'd go out to work, while he'd stay home and tend the house… sort of. His idea of tending to the house meant that there tended to be a lot of bits and pieces left lying around as he tried to put something together that would help them get back to the TARDIS and 2007.

There were days when he'd have disappeared before she got up with a note left on a scrap of paper simply saying "Back Soon" . He'd never let on where he was, but Martha was convinced he went scavenging down the dump for some of the bits and pieces he was working on… Either that, or he was knocking off the local Radio Rentals! He'd always come home carrying a few bits and pieces looking quite pleased with himself.

Home… it was getting weird that after such a short time Martha referred to Faulty Towers as home. Being a "poor student" in 2007 meant that she had experience of working within a budget for years and she applied the same rules in 1969. There was a supermarket 20 minutes away that Martha passed on her way to work. She did as much shopping there as she could afford, so she wouldn't have to pay corner-shop prices. Her mum would be proud! Martha missed her mod cons, though. Amazing the things you take for granted. A kettle that automatically switched off when it reached boiling point, a toaster, instead of relying on the wonky over head grill on the cooker, a steam iron, a microwave. The Doctor offered to build her one, but reckoned it would cost the guts of a year's wages and he didn't plan on them staying that long! At least they had a television (black and white, no remote, three channels) and a small transistor radio that was constantly tuned to Radio Luxembourg. When it came to other, not quite that essential mod cons, Martha improvised. Her mum once told her that before GHDs, she used to iron her hair, so every now and again, the ironing board would come out, not to iron the few clothes she'd managed to aquire, but to do her hair… after a few attempts, she was getting quite good. The ear singeing was down to a minimum. Of couse, all this was done when the Doctor wasn't around because she didn't need the smart remarks! He had rigged the electricity meter to run without having to put coins in. Yes it was illegal, but considering the amount of times he'd saved the planet, a few weeks of free leccy wouldn't implode the economy. A treat for Martha at the end of the week was rummaging through some second hand shops for a few clothes. There were a few bits and pieces she would have loved to have picked up, but even at just a few bob, they were still out of her price range.

Martha came home from work one day to find some fresh flowers in a vase and some strawberries and ice cream for dessert. She didn't want to nag… she really didn't want to nag, because it was an incredibly sweet thing to do, but they were luxuries they really couldn't afford. She didn't have to say anything, he knew anyway by the look on her face. The Doctor smiled that big beaming "I can get away with anything when I use this smile" smile. He assured her that he hadn't bankrupted them. They weren't about to be kicked, destitute, out on the street… and he hadn't been scavenging down the dump either! He'd been taking the money from the "jiggery pokery" budget and betting it on the horses so he could go and buy the things he needed. Small amounts in different bookies, a couple of accumulators, losing the odd one along the way so as not to attract attention… but this time he made a slight miscalculation and instead of winning a fiver, which in 1969 was a respectable sum of money to win, he'd won close to fifty pounds. He finally had enough to buy a camera and some film to make the message to help get them back. And if he couldn't treat 'er indoors with the leftovers, well who could he treat?

Strawberries and vanilla ice cream never tasted so good.

Once The Doctor had his "timey wimey thing that goes ding" working, they'd head back into the alleyway where they landed, on an almost nightly basis. Occasionally, the Doctor would go by himself because Martha would have something on with the girls from work or would spend the evening with Nora. He couldn't begrudge her a night or two on the town after all she'd done for him the last few weeks. Working to support him, never complaining about the absolute kip of a place they lived in and going without basics like new clothes just to keep a roof over their heads. With his knowledge of future events, he could have cleaned up at the bookies, made them millionaires! But it was easier to just keep winning smallish amounts on a semi regular basis to keep them ticking over financially and avoiding any unwanted attention. There was still a Torchwood and UNIT to avoid… not to mention some of the gangsters that frequented the betting scene. The Doctor had no TARDIS to rely on to fix him if he got hurt… He had the next best thing in Martha, but still, he'd rather avoid the beating in the first place! The Doctor had even "unfixed" the electricity meter and had paid their debt. Some nights, they'd take the scenic route through the city, stopping off in the heart of Swinging Sixties London, Carnaby Street. Martha thought it was just a bit too Austin Powers for her tastes, but was rather taken by some of the dresses in Mary Quant. The Doctor promised that when they got the TARDIS back, she could have the run of the wardrobe room. She liked that he said "when" and not "if".

The "when" caught them both by surprise. They were wandering through the "vintage" garage (He never let her forget that!) when the Doctor's machine started going nuts. As there were no hens or eggs in the vicinity, they both agreed it was someone coming back to 1969 courtesy of the Angels. They arrived in time to see Billy Shipton slump dazed against the wall and tried to explain what had happened. When he was fit enough to stand, they took him back to the flat. The Doctor showed him the film and Sally Sparrow's notes (but not the picture of Billy's wedding to his own Sally… best to let him figure that out for himself!). Martha made tea and wrote a couple of letters while the Doctor dropped the bombshell that Billy would have to stay in 1969 and live his life from there on in. Of course he protested. Billy had family, friends and a career in 2007 and he wanted to get back to them. The Doctor explained about paradoxes and the Reapers and the damage that would be caused if Billy were to return to his own time. After a long night of arguing, he reluctantly accepted his fate. Martha told him the rent was paid up for the next 2 weeks and she handed over the contents of her purse to get him started. The Doctor gave him a list of winners of assorted horse races and football matches. The last thing Billy said to them was that he'd look after the tape and get it to Sally Sparrow.

When they returned to the alleyway, the TARDIS was waiting for them. The Doctor scooped Martha up in a joyous bearhug. She couldn't recall a time when the Doctor looked happier. They'd done it. They'd found a way to get the TARDIS back. They were finally home.