FOUR

The new neighbour was crossing in front of the Jones house, each arm laden with a giant bowl. She was around forty, wearing a grey and pink knit sailor's blouse which was cut quite low, and, Martha guessed a Miracle Bra pushed her cleavage up unnaturally. She wore trendy brownish-blue jeans with black platform sandals and her thick red hair was swept up into a large cascading pile on the top of her head.

Martha nearly hyperventilated, she couldn't catch her breath. As with John, the style of dress was totally out-of-character, but there was no mistaking – she had to be right. The new neighbour was Donna Noble!

This represented the first thread of hope she'd had since waking six weeks ago. Weeks of calling for the Doctor, months of spending time with someone who was not Jack Harkness and another person who was not Tom Milligan, had pressed her into a strange place of loneliness. Hope had seemed scarce, but now a familiar face seemed like a lifeline. Donna was here to explain it all, to put her back in the loop with the Doctor!

Martha yanked open the door just as the neighbour was reaching the top of the stairs.

"Martha?" she asked. "Is it you, Martha?"

"Yes!" Martha cried out, unbelievably relieved to see her.

"Oh, blimey, let me get a look at you!" the red-haired woman cried out. She set the bowls on a nearby credenza and grabbed Martha tightly by the shoulders. She looked Martha up and down, and then let out a little squeal of delight, before pulling Martha in for a big hug. Martha nearly cried with relief as she returned the hug.

When they finally let go, Martha said, "I'm so glad to see you!"

"I'm glad to see you too! Look at you, you're gorgeous!"

"You too!"

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Catherine, I live next door. I've been spending some time with your mum and she's told me all about you. I was so thrilled to hear you'd come home and I've been dying to meet you, but I didn't want to crowd you – figured you had plenty of life to catch up on after three years."

Catherine? Martha was crestfallen. Of course. Why would I think it would be as easy as that?

"Yes, well," Martha stammered. "Can I help you with your bowls?"

"Lovely," Catherine answered. Each grabbed a bowl of potato salad and headed for the kitchen.

Uneasily, Martha watched Catherine greet Tish and Leo, kiss her mother on the cheek and then head outside to say hello to everyone else. She shook hands with all the neighbours, then accepted a glass of wine from Mrs. Hambly who happened to be sitting near the bottle. She laughed and smiled, joked loudly, brought her warmth to the party. It was uncanny – this was Donna Noble, right down to the little mole on her chin. Martha found herself following Catherine outside mindlessly, slack-jawed like a stalker. Part of her was bitterly disappointed that the ginger next-door neighbour did not present a link to her old life, and part of her was flogging herself for getting her hopes up. If John and Dr. Ellis weren't real, what would make her think Catherine was?

And yet another part of her was more convinced than ever that this was a trick or a trap or an alterna-world of some kind... that she wasn't just dreaming or crazy or delusional. It couldn't be a coincidence that so many people in this life looked exactly like people from her real life. It had to be hypnosis or a perception alteration or retcon or... at this point she wouldn't rule out a magic spell.

"Martha, what's wrong?" her mother asked. "You're staring."

Snapping to, Martha mused, "I'm sorry if I'm being rude. It's just that I'm sure I've seen Catherine somewhere before."

"In one of your dreams, maybe?" Francine asked, smoothing one side of Martha's hair behind her ear.

Martha smiled tiredly. She was already exhausted and the party had barely started. Her mother added, "Well, if you want Dr. Ellis to give you the go-ahead, I would keep that to yourself. They need to know that you know the difference between your dreams and reality."

"I understand," Martha answered soberly. She resolved to try and speak to Catherine alone, first chance she got.

Guests seemed to arrive in droves, neighbours, friends, names she'd heard from her parents' offices, mates of Leo and Tish. Some of them she recognised, some of them she didn't. Of course Dr. Ellis was numbered among the revellers, as was John. The various neighbours were all glad to see her up and about, and those whom she was meeting for the first time had "heard so much about her," and were pleased to know that she was all right. After an hour, Martha's cheeks hurt from smiling, and she was ridiculously tired of saying 'thank you'. She grabbed a lemonade and stood on the edge of the garden, she hoped, outside the fray.

"Are you tired of the niceties yet?" she heard from the left.

"Tom... er, Dr. Ellis, hi," she gasped. "Yeah. Tired."

"It's all right," he smiled. "You can call me Tom today – it's a party."

"Oh, I don't think that's such a good idea," Martha said. She knew it would only make her pine further, that the familiarity would remind her of the longing for their normal life together, even more than now. More importantly for the moment, it would make her forget the formalities that were necessary between Martha the patient and Tom the doctor. She couldn't step over that line if she wanted to survive here

"As you like," Tom said. "You seem a bit uncomfortable."

"I'm coping," she said, nodding unnaturally. "Lots of new faces, some old ones... lots of changes."

"Ah, it's to be expected," he told her. "It must be like a whole new world for you."

She scoffed. "You have no idea."

He looked at her closely, adjusting his eyes. She risked a closer look at him as well, and it made her positively ache.

And then she was mercifully interrupted. "Martha?"

It was Catherine, tapping on her shoulder. "Oh, er, hi, Don... Catherine."

Damn it! I'm going to have to learn these names!

"Sorry to interrupt, but your mum said I should ask for your help cutting the pies," Catherine told her.

"Er, oh yes," Martha stammered. "Quite right. Er, Dr. Tom, er, Ellis... Dr. Tom Ellis, have you met Catherine?"

Tom looked at her quizzically in response to her sudden anxiety. She had realised that worlds were colliding. If she wanted Dr. Ellis to think she was fit to move on with her life, then she needed to keep her facts straight. She couldn't stare at Catherine, couldn't be caught calling her Donna, couldn't allow him to think that she had any problems separating realities. Of course, that pressure made it all the harder a task.

Catherine told her, "Yes, we met a little while ago, your mum introduced us."

"Shall we go tackle those pies?" Martha asked.

"Yeah," Catherine answered, taking Martha by the arm.

When they reached the kitchen, Catherine asked, "Are you okay, Martha?"

Martha saw an opportunity. She picked up a knife and plunged it into a cherry pie. "Erm, no. I'm really not. I'm feeling loss. Like something's been taken from me."

Catherine looked at her sympathetically as she plunged a different knife into a banana cream pie. "Of course – an event like this is bound to make you feel like you missed something. People die, people move, and other people move into their houses." She laughed a bit at herself.

Martha turned and looked at her squarely. "It's like a different life." Martha gulped hard, and then took a leap. "I wish I could go back in time. Do you see?"

Catherine sighed. "Yes, I see."

"Need to get things sorted out. I can do that with the Doctor's help." She said those last four words slowly, carefully, poignantly. "The Doctor's help, and your help."

Catherine seemed nonplussed, and yet a glimmer of something shone in her eyes. "Oh, Martha," she said. "I don't know if I can help you." She was looking at Martha now with caution, as though she were erecting a wall between them.

"Please, Catherine, I need your help. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"I do, Martha, but there are channels you have to go through, protocols to follow. I don't have the answers," Catherine insisted, both hands up in a defensive gesture. "I can't just snap my fingers and fix it – you were right before, you need the doctor's help."

Martha's heart sped up at those words. Could it be? Could it be?