Martha ached in places she didn't even know she had, the muscles in her arms roaring with pain as she clung onto the train roof for dear life

Martha ached in places she didn't even know she had, the muscles in her arms roaring with pain as she clung onto the train roof for dear life. Just an hour ago, she'd been hoping for clean, open air. Now, she had her wish.

She guessed she had to be more careful what she wished for, from now on.

"Get ready!" Reese yelled into her ear.

She looked at him in disbelief. "You do realise this is crazy, don't you?"

"Tell you what, why don't you stay here until the train pulls into Westchester station and then you can explain to the nice Toclafane, waiting for you there, exactly how crazy I am. I'm sure they'll be very understanding."

"Smart arse!" she snapped back, tensing as the train approached the bend. It seemed that, while Derek Reese didn't expect her to jump onto a train running at full tilt, he had no problem asking her to jump off one. She watched as he slowly slid up into a crouching position and grimaced as he motioned for her to do the same.

The train seemed to scream around the bend, and Martha could have sworn it hadn't slowed even a bit, but Reese apparently thought differently.

"Now!"

He threw himself off the train, and Martha jumped after him before her nerve broke, resisting the urge to close her eyes as she flew through the air.

"Oh. My—"

The earth smacked into her, and Martha let out a shout of pain, as her whole body reverberated with the shockwave. Christ, she hoped she hadn't broken anything. She heard the brush rustle behind, and went still.

"Okay," Reese's voice drawled. "Guess we'll just have to add 'how to fall and roll without breaking your neck' to the lesson roster.'

His boots came into view, and Martha followed them up and glared at him. "Who, exactly, do I look like to you? GI Jane?"

He shrugged. "It's gonna be a steep learning curve, might as well get used to it," he told her. "Anything broken?"

She gave her toes an experimental wiggle and carefully sat up. "No," she said, and then winced as an aching pain ran up her back. "Although a few things might be a little bent out of shape." He held out a hand, and Martha grabbed it, letting him pull her to her feet.

We need to keep our heads down until we clear the last of the houses," He said briefly. "There's a drop point about eight clicks north. We'd better get moving."

Martha fell into step beside him as they clambered out of the brush and onto a back lane, and she narrowed her eyes as she took in the pristine houses, seemingly deserted.

"It's very quiet," she said, her voice hushed.

"Yeah, well, it's hard to play happy families when the Toclafane are breathing down your neck," Reese muttered. "My guess is they've scattered to the hills. That what they—" He stopped himself. "We'd better pick up the pace."

Martha looked at him and wondered what it was he was going to say. The guy was a mystery to her. The others at the camp had only been too keen to talk about their lives before the Master, but Derek Reese? The best she got out of him was a noncommittal grunt.

So what the hell was she doing following him across the back roads of America?

"Why are you doing this?" she asked suddenly.

He looked down at her. "I have my reasons."

"That isn't an answer."

"Now is not the time to be having this conversation."

A distant scream punctuated his words, and Martha nodded grimly. "Later," she said, her tone brooking no argument.

He gave her a wry look but didn't say anything as he led the way down another side street. It was turning out to be one of those days.

Martha spotted the bale of hay, and fell back onto it with a sigh. "We're staying here, tonight, right? Please say we are."

"Nope, he said shortly.

Martha groaned. "Why not, it's at least two miles to the nearest house; we're in the middle of nowhere and this barn…" She sighed. "Is so comfy."

"It's a pick up spot," he said. "It's used to move supplies from one pair of hands to another. Staying here will compromise it." He scraped away a pile of hay at the back of the barn, revealing two packs and a motorbike.

Martha groaned. "A motorcycle?"

"Best way to travel if we need to go off the beaten track," Reese said. "Come on."

It seemed that every muscle in her body protested as she stood, but she eventually got to her feet - only to be nearly knock off them again as he threw one of the packs at her. She glared him as he rolled the bike out of the barn. "Isn't using the bike taking too much of a chance?" she asked.

"You want to travel on foot? Coz I gotta tell ya, it'll be a long trip to the west coast."

Martha rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, as she got on behind him.

He revved the bike, and Martha held on as the bike sped onto the rough, dirt road. The landscape whizzed by, and Martha tried to console herself with the fact that at least she wasn't still clinging to the roof of a train. The sun sank below the horizon and she found herself dozing, her head nodding as she tried to keep awake. Was it possible to sleep on a bike?

But, at last, the bike slowed, and Martha tried not to groan as she eased off the saddle.

"Not used to it," Reese pronounced, as he leaned back on the bike.

"Yeah, no kidding, Sherlock," she muttered as she dropped her pack on the ground and looked around her. It was a small clearing, surrounded by dense trees.

"You'll get used to it," he said, "You know how to start a fire?"

Martha threw him a rueful look. "I know how to gather twigs?"

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "It's a start."

Martha sipped the black coffee from the tin cup she'd found in her bag, and eyed Reese over its rim. He hadn't said a thing since they'd set up the camp, but just sat there, chipping away at a piece of wood he had in his hand, with his knife. It was about time she got some answers, she decided.

"So," she said, into the silence. "You've got family?"

He kept on carving, as if she hadn't said anything.

"Reese?" Martha let out a sigh of annoyance. It was like talking to a brick wall. "So, are you going to answer, or are you just going to sit there and play with your little knife all night?" she asked eventually, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

He looked up at her "It's a stupid question," he said flatly. "You should get out of the habit of asking it."

And then Martha remembered. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "It's just what people ask, isn't it?" She thought of her own family, trapped on the Valiant. "Who did you lose?"

But Reese apparently had decided that he'd said all he had to say on the subject and, after a moments pause, Martha decided to let it go. He didn't want to get personal? Well, that was okay by her.

"So," she said. "I was looking at this map, yeah, and it says that we'll hit a small town called Cairo—"

"We're not stopping," he said abruptly.

"What?" Martha asked. "Oh yes we are. I have a mission to fulfil and—"

"We're not stopping."

"Listen, Reese, I'm grateful for all you did, I really am, but I need to do this."

"You're not ready," he said.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that there's gonna be no midnight runs into populated areas, no little get-togethers with the locals, no mission to accomplish, until you get a few basic skills down – you need to learn how to protect yourself."

"This is about learning how to use a gun again, isn't it?"

He gave her a look. "No, it's about learning how to pop popcorn," he drawled.

"Arsehole."

He didn't deny it.

"It's not just about learning to use a weapon," he told her. "You've got to work on the other stuff too."

"Like?"

"Like learning how to reconnoitre an area before entering it, and how to duck and cover - being able to use simple Morse code and recognise a military hand signal when you see one. Learning some simple self defence would also be good – not that that foot stamping trick of yours isn't effective, but if I'd been seriously trying to kill you, rather than subdue you…." He shrugged. "You should have followed it up, and not stopped until I was on the ground."

"Thanks for the tip," Martha said flatly.

He leaned forward and caught her eyes. "Listen, hand to hand combat is important, but it won't save your life; not if they pick you off with a rifle before you get to them—"

"You're a real bundle of laughs, aren't you," Martha cut in, as a wave of tiredness rolled over her. "There's got to be another way to do this, one that doesn't involve shooting our way across the country."

"Okay," he bit out. "What would you do, oh Miss Saviour-of-the-Earth?"

"Well, for one thing, I'd stay low and avoid dangerous situations; I'd try to spread the word—"

"See?" he interrupted. "That's your problem right there."

"What?"

"You can't staying low and spread the word at the same time. You think they won't be looking for you? Searching these towns and villages? Which reminds me, you need a cover story."

"Huh?"

"A cover story," he repeated. "You know; to throw the Master off the scent? John used to—" He paused and, for a fleeting second, a stricken look passed over his face. "Never mind."

"No, what were you gong to say?" Martha asked, her curiosity piqued..

"Nothing we have to worry about right now," he said. "First we need to teach you some basic survival skills and how to use—"

"A gun," she said. "Yeah, I know; you're like a broken record."

He gave her long, cold look. "I can't do this," he said abruptly.

"Can't do what?"

"I can't play this game with you," he said. "You're a dead man walking, Jones, don't you know that? Every Toclafane on the east coast is looking for you. Word is there is a reward – and we're not talking just money here, he's offering lives in exchange for yours and you…." He took a breath. "You're just too damned trusting."

"Who? Me?" Martha stared at him "What does that mean?"

"It means that anybody with an ounce of suspicion in their blood would never in a million years have followed me down onto those subway tracks," he drawled.

"Hey, I was suspicious! When we were in the subway station and you disappeared, I thought—" Martha paused, and then gave a self depreciating laugh. "Of course, it would have been too late by then, wouldn't it, if you were really going to dob me in?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Dob?"

"An expression," Martha said. "Doesn't matter... and, okay, maybe I'm a bit too… trusting, but I can't help that, and it's not as if I'm thick, or anything, it's just that-" she sighed. "It's just that I like to think the best of people, at least until they prove me wrong."

"Well, from now on, you've got start thinking of people as guilty until proven otherwise," Reese said grimly. "You need to stay alive long enough to save the—" Again, he stopped, and this time Martha wasn't going to let it go.

Talking about being suspicious," she drawled. "I suspect there's something you should be telling me but aren't."

"It's not important," he said. "What's important is that you listen to me."

"Or what?" Martha asked, folding her arms.

He gave her a cool stare. "Or I leave you here," he said. "Right now." He stood and began to pack his bag, and Martha watched in bemusement. Was he serious?

Of course he's serious, she thought to herself. It's not the sort of thing someone jokes about, especially someone like Derek Reese. She bit her lip, and watched as he closed his bag. She knew he had a point but… She needed to spread the word, and she needed to start doing it now, before she started running out of time. He just didn't get it. How could he? He didn't know the Doctor.

They eyed each other over the fire embers.

"Right," Martha eventually said, coming to a decision. "Well, thanks for all you've done. I really appreciate it, honest, but you're right. It's probably best if we part ways."

For a moment, Martha thought he was going to say something, but he just shook his head. "See ya, kid," he said, and then he walked away from the camp, and Martha found herself alone, staring at the map in her hand.

"Cairo," she said to herself.

It seemed a good place to start.