CHAPTER TWO
Inside of the TARDIS, the Doctor leaned against the console as he slipped on his glasses. "Let's have a closer look at you," he murmured as he brought out the Colt.
Martha closed the door and ascended the walkway. "Still can't fathom how that's a key to anything." She watched him hold up the gun. The light reflected off of its dark surface in an eerie manner.
"In my experience, keys come in all sorts of shapes and sizes," he replied. His brow furrowed as he felt that pulse again. What was it? He drew in a deep breath as he shifted his attention to her. "Sometimes, even a person could be a key. Or a part of one."
"What are you going to do with it? Keep it here?"
"This isn't something I should like to keep aboard. Any chance I may lose it is a chance I'd rather not take." Gently, he placed the Colt on the console then went over to one of the monitors. "I'll locate a star which is near supernova ..."
"Throw it in and let the universe do the rest," she finished with a smile.
The Doctor grinned. "You're catching on brilliantly, Martha Jones." He tapped the finger on the alien language which popped up before them. "Here. A star in the Ysatnaf system is due soon."
Dean rounded the back of the main motel building and stopped when he saw absolutely nothing behind it. Only open field, for as far as the eye could see. Where the hell'd they go? Did they teleport or what? No trees to hide behind. No other buildings. The two looked like they were in shape, but they couldn't have run that far in a little under a minute. No human being could've.
As he looked to his left, he narrowed his eyes, puzzled. About 200 feet to the west stood a strange dark blue box, maybe 8 or 9 feet tall, and at its top was a small enclosed light. Considering there was nowhere else the two could've gone, he assumed it was worth checking out. When close enough, he made out wording near the top: 'Police Public Call Box'.
"What the hell is that?" he wondered out loud.
After a hesitation, he placed a flat palm on the surface. Wood. A wooden box. In the middle of nowhere. One he was sure wasn't there when they'd checked in the evening before. This was definitely something a person would notice. He stepped back and searched for an entrance. As he came around to the other side, he discovered a set of doors. On one was a posted message: 'Police Telephone. Free. For Use of the Public.' Below the rest of the "instructions" was: 'Pull To Open'. Simple enough.
Before he did, he checked his ammunition, then frowned, cursing under his breath. In his haste, he'd grabbed one loaded with rock salt. His gaze settled on the door. After a moment, he reached for the handle.
"Shouldn't take long to get there," the Doctor assured Martha as he toyed with the dials. "Then we're off to our next destination!"
They were both so busy, they didn't hear the TARDIS door quietly creak open.
"Have I told you about the Eye of Orion, Martha?"
She shook her head, a wonder-filled expression on her face. "No. What's that, then?"
"One of the most beautiful, tranquil spots in the whole of the universe!" He grinned as he recalled the last visit he'd paid to the place. Nearly ... five incarnations ago. Definitely long overdue to return. "You'll love it."
Martha was about to respond but, instead, she gasped when she heard the sound of a shotgun being pumped. After she slowly turned, she saw one of the young men from the motel approaching them. One of the shotguns pointed directly at them. "Doctor?"
Wrapped up in his work, the Doctor hadn't even heard what Martha did. His face fell when he lifted his head to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. "Didn't lock the doors, did you?" he murmured.
"No. Sorry." The one time she didn't think of it, this was the result.
Dean noticed the Colt rested on the strange console in the middle of the room. It wasn't until then he realized the room was entirely too huge to be contained within that small box. Whoever these two were, they were working serious voodoo. Or maybe something even more dangerous. "Just bein' neighborly, huh?" He shifted his attention to the Doctor, who'd placed himself between Martha and the shotgun.
"If you'll let me to explain why I -"
"I don't give a damn why!" he snapped, cutting the Doctor off in mid-sentence. "I just know you're givin' it back."
The Doctor kept his hands up in a non-threatening manner as he took two steps forward. "I don't intend you any harm," he calmly stated. "I apologize for lying to you, but it's absolutely imperative we remove the gun from this planet and destroy it."
Dean's finger hovered over the trigger. "What are you talking about?" This planet?
The Doctor motioned to the Colt. "It's a key to a trans-dimensional gateway. A gateway which was recently opened, a fact I'm not sure you're even aware of -"
"I'm aware. We didn't open it, but we sure as hell closed it." He nodded to the Colt. "Toss it here and this'll end on a good note for all of us. You don't intend any harm? Neither do I."
The Doctor took another step forward. "You must understand, I can't allow you to keep something as dangerous as -"
"And I don't care what you'll allow. That belongs to us."
Martha looked down. The Doctor had one hand behind his back. She watched him gesture to a section of the console where a button flashed red, then he opened his hand. When she understood what she was to do, she gingerly tapped his arm.
"I am sorry, but that isn't possible," the Doctor replied. Behind him, he ticked off his fingers in a countdown. "If you'd please put down the gun before someone is hurt -"
When no fingers remained, Martha hit the blinking button on the console. The TARDIS violently shifted and it pitched her forward into the console itself. Luckily, she'd managed to grab onto it before she banged her head.
On the opposite side, the movement also caught Dean off-guard. He lost his balance as well as the control over the gun in his hands. Prepared for the event, the Doctor lunged for the shotgun. Before he could grab it, Dean's finger accidentally depressed the trigger and rock salt peppered the TARDIS's console. The resulting sparks and smoke forced Martha to shield her eyes. Dean lost the gun as the Doctor latched onto the barrel then yanked it from his hands. He glanced at the other man then noticed the Colt had landed on the floor, just in front of him. Quickly, before the Doctor noticed it, too, Dean snatched it and made a move for the door.
The Doctor was about to give chase but the familiar whir of the TARDIS caught his attention. Head tilted back, he murmured, "We're dematerializing." He flicked his gaze to Dean who ambled down the walkway, towards the doors. "Martha – STOP HIM!" he shouted as he pointed.
Without any question, she sprinted past the Doctor. Dean was almost to the open doors when she snagged him by his flannel shirt. Curious as to what had him, he whirled around to find Martha before him.
Frantically, the Doctor darted around the sparking console as he hit buttons and threw levers. He glanced in the direction of the doors, relieved to see Martha had stopped the young man.
Dean was about to make a run for it when the TARDIS angrily shuddered once more. He fell into Martha. Unfortunately, she wasn't prepared for the second shift, either. The two of them tumbled to the floor, Dean's head smacked against the metal railing – hard - on their way down.
"Shut the doors!" the Doctor called. The panic was in his voice. He couldn't let it control him. Or else they would surely die.
Martha hauled herself from the floor with the aid of the rail and managed to secure the doors before the TARDIS violently shimmied again. She clung to the rail as she looked back to the Doctor. "What's happening?" she yelled to him.
He spun another wheel then used a foot to kick another lever up. "Oh, just trying to avoid being torn apart at a subatomic level!" he replied. "Hold on!" He yanked the same lever down and the ship shifted. He glanced in Martha's direction. She was on her knees now, one arm hooked around the rail as she tried to keep herself and the unconscious young man steady.
Martha gritted her teeth as she held as tight as she could to Dean's body while the ship continued to shimmy and make the most awful noises. A few klaxons blared. A moment later, she could've swore she heard the deep, melancholy toll of a church bell.
The Doctor watched as the data rolled down the main monitor. They were out of control in the actual space travel aspect. Fortunately, the time circuits were not engaged. At least they wouldn't be hurtled to the end of time itself. The end of the universe was a distinct possibility, however.
"Come on, old girl," he encouraged as he punched a few more buttons. "All we've been through, we can't go out like this."
As if responding to the Doctor's words, the ship began to stabilize. Soon, the shaking came to a halt and the klaxons quieted.
Letting out a relieved breath, Martha rested her head on the rail. "Thank you," she whispered, unsure if she meant it for a higher power or the TARDIS itself.
The Doctor stood straight as he shifted his attention to her. "Knew she wouldn't let us down!" he declared as he patted the console. He jumped slightly when it sparked. He moved to the area damaged by the shotgun blast. "Martha, are you all right?"
She lifted her head. "As well as can be expected." She focused her attention on Dean. He had a minor laceration on his forehead, just above his right eye. Nothing too serious. She slipped off her jacket and tucked it underneath his head as a pillow. She'd no torch or penlight on hand but she assessed his condition the best she could.
"And him?" the Doctor asked as he glanced over his shoulder.
"Likely a concussion," she reported as she looked to the Doctor. She'd examined him, went through all of the necessary steps in response to a head trauma, but it wasn't enough. She didn't believe he was in grave danger, still, any injury of this nature wasn't to be taken lightly. "We should return him to Earth as soon as possible."
The Doctor stood straight as the console sparked again. "We'll be landing," he replied. He shifted one of the levers. "But not on Earth." He scanned the flickering screen as he tried to find a suitable planet nearby for them.
"What about him?" Martha gestured to Dean. "This floor isn't doing him any good."
"We'll move him to one of the other rooms, if you're worried about his present condition -" He banged a hand on a panel. "Stop it," he warned.
She sighed as her gaze settled on the Colt which lay a few inches away. Carefully, she picked it up. She'd never held a gun before. Not a proper one, at any rate. Paint pellet gun, air dart gun, even an alien ray gun not long ago, but never a regular one.
"A lot of bother for something so small," she commented.
"Hmm?" The Doctor lifted his head. He saw Martha with the gun in one hand as she held it up, closely examining it. "As soon as I've made the repairs, we'll dispose of that and return him where he belongs. If we're lucky, we'll accomplish everything before he regains consciousness. Perhaps he'll believe this was all a dream."
She lowered the gun as she regarded the Doctor, almost baffled. "You'd worry about this rubbish before him?" She nodded to Dean. "Is that why you had me stop him? So he wouldn't escape with the key?"
"No, it was for his protection," the Doctor answered as he fiddled with one of the damaged panels on the lower portion of the console. "We were dematerializing. If you hadn't stopped him when you did ..." His voice trailed off as he recalled the tragic incident about three incarnations prior. He blinked then glanced at her again. "You saved his life, Martha, that's what's important."
She bit her lower lip, a bit guilty for her accusation about the Doctor's motivations. She didn't want to ask what might've happened if she hadn't reached Dean in time. Though, with what knowledge she had of the physics surrounding the TARDIS, she could imagine a few outcomes. None of them pleasant.
"Give me a moment, then I'll help you move him," the Doctor continued as he placed the console panel shielding on the floor.
While the Doctor checked on the circuitry in the pedestal, Martha removed the slightly damp kerchief from her jacket pocket then gently cleared away the drying blood from the minor wound on Dean's forehead.
"DEAN!" Sam lowered his hands as he scanned the wide open area for the fifth time.
He'd searched the entire place in the last ten minutes with absolutely nothing to show for it. He couldn't find his brother anywhere. It was as though Dean had vanished into thin air. The mysterious couple was gone as well. He'd yet to check at the front desk, though he almost knew the woman had lied. If they weren't demons, what were they? Who were they? More importantly, where were they and did they have anything to do with Dean's disappearance? If so, where did they go? For miles in each direction, no one could've ran or walked or driven away without being seen.
Sam reached into his coat pocket and brought out his cell phone. Dean had his with him, he knew. It didn't hurt to try. After he keyed up the number, he waited. Then the message appeared: "User out of area." Out of area? He couldn't be that far away in such a short span of time. It was impossible.
He let out a breath as he dropped his arm to his side, his eyes scanned the expanse of land again then he shook his head. As he lifted his cell up, he scrolled through the names until he reached Bobby's. He pressed the button and waited for the man to answer.
Slowly, Dean's eyes drifted open. He stared, blinking, at the stark white ceiling above him. When he felt something above his right eye, his brow furrowed. A hand raised to discover a gauze bandage firmly taped there. The contact set off a wave of pain, accompanied by a vivid memory – the hot English chick and the surprised look on her face as they tumbled to the floor together. Summoning all of his strength, he propped himself up on his elbows.
He found himself on a simple bed in the middle of a room about eight feet by eight feet in size. Its walls were just as plain and white as its ceiling. On the opposite side was a wooden desk and chair. In the chair, with her back to him, was the woman. She had a book open in front of her. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he groaned as his head pounded. "Jesus Christ," he muttered as he placed a hand to his forehead. He thought for a second he might puke, the pain was that bad.
At the table, Martha suddenly turned when she heard him. When she saw Dean doubled over, she was on her feet in a flash. "What are you doing?" she demanded as she took hold of his upper arms. "You shouldn't be up."
Instinctively, Dean reached for his gun. No matter how hot this chick was, she'd still kidnapped him and stolen the Colt.
"If you're looking for that other gun, you won't find it," Martha stated as she tilted his head back. "The Doctor confiscated it. Considering you almost killed us all with the first, it was a wise decision on his part."
Dean squinted as a small light flashed in his eyes, blinding him. "What the hell are you doing?" he grumbled as he tried to shove her hands away.
"What I'm trained to do," she answered as she pushed his hands down and away from the penlight she held. "How do you feel?"
"Like shit," he muttered. He felt her force each of his eyelids open and then she blinded him again with that goddamn light. "Would you knock it off?"
"Do you have any dizziness?" she inquired, ignoring his continued whinging. She flicked the light off and placed her hands to each side of his face then studied his eyes. "Nausea?"
"Yeah."
"Do you remember your name?"
"Dean Winchester."
"What year is it?"
"2007." He jumped a little as Martha held a finger in front of his face. "What are -"
"Follow my finger," she firmly ordered. She moved it from side to side, then up and down. When she was done, she looked him in the eyes. "Who's Prime Minister?"
Dean gave her a look before he flatly replied, "I wouldn't know that anyway."
She sheepishly smiled. "Sorry. Forgot. Who's the President, then?"
"Does it matter?"
She smiled again, this time out of amusement. "You'll be all right," she assured him as she stood straight. "Still, you shouldn't wander about unaccompanied. Not so much because you may further injure yourself as get yourself lost."
"Lost?" He glanced around the small room. "How am I going to get lost in here?"
"I meant outside of this room," she said with a sigh. "The TARDIS is rather expansive. Corridors stretch on forever." Martha tucked the penlight into her jacket as she seated herself beside him. "I don't believe even the Doctor knows his way around it completely."
"What's a ... TARDIS?" Dean asked as he pressed the heel of a hand to his forehead.
"It's the name of the Doctor's ship."
His hand dropped into his lap as he slid his gaze to her. "His ... ship?" he repeated in a low voice. "What, like his space ship?" When she nodded, he laughed. "You're tellin' me that blue box is a space ship? As in, it travels through outer space?" He pointed to the floor. "And all of this is inside of it?"
"Yes. Spatial differentiation. 'It's bigger on the inside' is the easiest explanation."
"That's obvious." He glanced around. "Where's Sam?"
"That the bloke who was with you?"
"My brother. Did you abduct him, too?"
Martha's expression quickly morphed into one of indignation. "Abduct you? You're the one who burst in uninvited!"
"You were stealing stuff outta my car!" he shot back. "I'm supposed to just let you?" He winced as a searing pain shot through his head. Grimacing, he continued, "What do you know about that gun? Almost everyone who knows about it is some kind of evil."
"We aren't any sort of 'evil'," she defensively replied, her jaw tight as she did. "We were only attempting to destroy it before it could be used again." She rose to her feet.
"If you aren't evil, why did you guys kidnap me?"
"We did not kidnap you!" She let out a frustrated breath as she tried to keep her cool. "Look, the Doctor was protecting you. If I hadn't have stopped you, you would've been more buggered than you are now."
"Really?" He smirked. "How so?"
She folded her arms across her chest. "Try dead," she evenly replied.
Her voice was flat grave. He'd no doubt she'd told the truth just then. After a moment, his irritation returned. "Well, you can turn this thing around and take me back. Sam's probably flipping out." He couldn't believe he was actually buying the "space ship" story. But it couldn't hurt to humor her. Damn shame the hot ones had to be either evil or crazy.
"As much as we'd love to be rid of you, it isn't an option," Martha told him. "Thanks to you and your itchy trigger finger, that is."
"It was an accident!" Dean snapped as he stood. He paused as he felt light-headed. When it passed, he focused on her. "The goddamn room moved. I wasn't going to do anything to either of you, no matter how nuts you are."
"We're stuck with one another for a while. So, until the Doctor fixes the console - " She shoved him down into a sitting position on the bed. "Stay there and don't bloody move!"
Almost wide-eyed, Dean watched her leave the room and slam the door shut behind her. Damn, she was crazier than he'd originally thought. Spaceships. Did she really expect him to believe that bullshit? He wasn't sure what was going on, but this definitely wasn't any spaceship. They didn't exist. Other than what NASA had.
On the other side, Martha glared at the closed door before she let out one more frustrated breath. Almost every American she'd ever met – not only during her travels with the Doctor – was absolutely aggravating. And thick. This Dean Winchester was easily the most thick of the lot.
Shaking her head, she headed for the console room.
End Chapter Two