FOUR

The Doctor stopped in his tracks and pulled a pained face. He buried both hands in his hair and tugged, baring his teeth. How the hell could he have forgotten about Martha? She was still missing, and he'd been suspended six hundred feet above London dawdling with energy signatures...

Sure, when he'd started out, it had been hardly any time at all. But now! Now? He couldn't lose her now – not now that he'd just discovered their love...

He found himself running down the middle of the street with the sonic in his hand, set to identify beings that are part of the TARDIS' consciousness. He quickly decided to search in the opposite direction he'd gone before, since he'd had no success.

People were staring, but people always stared. He was nearly run down by a carriage and cursed by the driver, but that was pretty much an everyday occurrence for him as well. He ran headlong into several people and was obliged to set a five-year-old girl back on her feet, but before too long, the sonic made the sound he'd been wanting to hear. It seemed to be pointing toward Saint Anthony's convent where there were severe-looking nuns milling about in the cloister.

"Watch out!" a coachman cried from behind him, and when he stumbled out of the way, pulling his body to the side, the sonic indicated a presence in an entirely different direction. That was odd – two separate similar signals. He looked at the device with confusion. He aimed it at the convent, and then in the other direction toward what looked to be a hospital. Then he did it again, just to make certain.

A fresh surge of panic welled up. Martha was either in the convent or in hospital. Odds said it was probably the hospital, but he tried to tell himself that she'd gone there to help, not to be treated for a gash in the head or a goring through the chest or worse...

She's probably helping. Stop hyperventilating.

He sprinted up the street and went around the corner to find the entrance. He found a large, cavernous space bustling with movement. Nurses and doctors moved about efficiently and there were rows of beds and benches where patients either lay or sat. Victorian times were a fertile time for medicine, and London was a major centre of science at the time. He felt relatively good about this place.

A nurse passed by, and he took her arm to get her attention. "Excuse me, I'm looking for my friend."

"A patient or a doctor?"

"I'm not sure – could be either. Her name is Martha Jones. She's small and dark-skinned..."

"Then, she's probably a patient, sir," the nurse answered.

"No, you're not listening..."

"Dr. Salter is treating an African woman for broken ribs. He's wrapping her up right now. Over in the corner, there." She indicated the farthest corner of the building. The Doctor squinted, and sure enough, very tiny over in the corner, Martha Jones was sitting upon a cot. She was wearing a white cotton chemise (Victorian underwear) and had her arms in the air, her face contorted. A man was gently wrapping her torso with linen bandages while a woman stood nearby watching. Making sure, no doubt, that no impropriety took place.

Without thanking the nurse, the Doctor pushed his way across the giant room.

"Martha," he heaved, unable to contain himself. He was still twenty feet away from her, but he was already reaching out. A few more steps and he took her head in his hands and kissed her about a million times about her head and cheeks and eyelids.

"Okay, okay, calm down, let the man do his job," she said.

"I was worried sick," he scolded, pulling away from her reluctantly. "Don't do that to me!"

"Sorry," she said, wincing as the doctor continued to wrap her up. "Something came up."

Dr. Salter and his nurse finished up. "Okay, Martha," he said. "It's probably best if you don't wear a corset for a few days, and move as little as possible. Do you have someone who can look after you?" He looked at the Doctor, searching.

The Doctor stepped forward. "Sorry, where are my manners? I'm the Doctor. I'm with her."

"Oh, brilliant, you're a doctor," he said. "I'm Dr. Salter. Are you her husband?"

"Er, sure, why not?"

"Well, then you should know she has at least three broken ribs. I've bandaged them so as to set them, but she needs time."

"Right. Let's see, two weeks' bedrest, eh?"

"Of course. Oh, and I know that I needn't remind you that she should not perform any... well... er, marital duties until there is no pain."

The Doctor nodded gravely. "Of course, goes without saying." Neither of them saw Martha roll her eyes.

"Well then, Doctor, I leave Martha in your capable hands," Salter said as he moved away.

As he walked away, the Doctor turned to Martha. They simultaneously burst out laughing.

"Marital duties?" Martha asked. "Boy, if that doesn't take the fun out of it."

"Well, you know, it's Victorian times," he said. "You might have learned in your studies that sexuality at this time is a bit on the restrained side."

"I vaguely remember learning about that, yes." She sighed.

"I really was worried, you know." He kissed her forehead.

She grasped his wrists and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry that I worried you. Can I please wear your coat? They had to cut my clothes off me."

He got out of his suit jacket and helped her carefully slide into it, and then button it. Now, she was wearing blue straight-leg trousers with a ruffly Victorian chemise and a brown pinstriped suit coat which was sized for someone a foot taller than she. She was glad not to be her sister, so concerned with fashion!

"So, what's really wrong with you?" he asked. "Seems to me that if you had three broken ribs and no painkillers, you'd be writhing in pain right about now."

"It feels like maybe one is fractured. Maybe. They insisted on wrapping me up, so I didn't argue. I'll be fine tomorrow."

"Does it hurt to breathe?"

"A bit, but I'm breathing. Let's just be glad of that."

"Are you sure? If we go back to the TARDIS, I can re-wrap you with better bandages..."

"I'm fine," she said. "Trust me. I know about this stuff, remember?"

He smiled. "Yeah, I remember. How did this happen, anyway?"

"Well, after you left, a little boy called Phillip turned up looking for you. They needed a doctor, and you weren't there so… next best thing," she said, indicating herself and smiling brightly. "He took me to that convent there down the street, Saint Anthony's. Well, they have this girl locked up in one of the livery buildings and she's… well, seriously disturbed. When I tried to touch her, she kicked me in the ribs with both feet."

"How do you mean, seriously disturbed?"

"They found her naked in an alley and brought her back," Martha said sadly. "They have to force-feed and force-bathe her, she won't speak, and anytime anyone touches her, she reacts… well, you see. She's like… a beast. She's wild, like a wolf or something. Feral. She… snarled at me."

He sat down on the cot next to her. "Diagnosis?"

"I couldn't examine her or anything, but… I think she's maybe a schizophrenic dissociating from a rape," Martha said, her voice catching.

He ran his hand over his face in distress. "Blimey."

"I know. But the signs are there. She was found naked, she will not be touched…"

"Yeah," he whispered.

"Will you come and see her?" Martha asked. "I promised to bring you back as soon as I could find you. They think I'm out of my depth… and maybe I am."

"I will," the Doctor said. "But I've had a discovery today myself. I think it's the reason why we're here."

Martha's gaze was caught by something on the other side of the vast, busy room, and she waved. A little boy and a nun waved back. They made their way across the room to her.

"Martha, Martha, I'm so sorry," Sister Micheline said as she neared. "How are your ribs?"

"I'm all bandaged up," Martha said. "I'll be good as new in a day or two."

"Thank God," Micheline said, crossing herself.

"Doctor, this is Sister Micheline and Phillip, from the convent," Martha said.

The Doctor smiled and shook hands with the two of them.

"Doctor, do you think you'll be able to help our poor Jane Doe? Has Martha explained?" the Sister asked anxiously.

"Yes, she has," the Doctor said. "And I'd be happy to take a look. Though, I am in London on some rather pressing business. Would it be all right if Martha and I came by the convent tomorrow morning?"

"That would be lovely, Doctor," Sister Micheline said, taking Phillip happily by the shoulders. "We will take any help we can get at this point."


They walked slowly back to the Voyager's Repose with Martha leaning on the Doctor's arm, though more as a gesture of affection than out of need. He explained what he found as they walked. Martha listened with no comment – what sort of comment could she make regarding an alien species that leaves behind traces of a human energy signature, six hundred feet over London?

When he was finished, she asked, "So what do we do?"

He was pleased with himself. "I've told you," he said, smiling broadly. "We talk to the folks."

They strode back to the inn and headed upstairs. Martha's first priority, silly as it seemed, was to get her clothes changed.

"Were you able to pack some of my things?" she asked, entering the room. "I really need to put on something else. This outfit is just a step too far, even for people from the future."

"Yes," he told her, heaving the rucksack onto the bed. "Let me choose something for you. If we're going to go down and sit at the fireside with the travellers, they need to trust us. They already think we're nutters, it might help if you dressed a bit more like them."

"Well, at least I'm not allowed to wear a corset for a while."

The Doctor unpacked all of the items he had stuffed into the rucksack. Martha watched in awe as an amazing number of items came out of the rather small space. She understood the 'bigger on the inside' concept, but that didn't make the display any less entertaining.

She recognised the grey sundress that the Doctor must have taken from her wardrobe. It was made of a breathable, crinkly fabric, and as was usual with anything Martha bought off-the-rack, it was too long for her and came all the way to her ankles. The dress was relatively loose on her all the way down, which was what she needed right now, with her injured rib. She was just about to reach out and touch it, when the Doctor beat her to it. He picked it up by its spaghetti straps and said, "I think this would be best, and then we can put the white tunic blouse over it, so as not to scandalise the restless natives by showing them your shoulders."

She smiled. "All right." As he picked up a history book and began perusing, she unbuttoned and shed the Doctor's brown suit jacket. There she stood in the cotton chemise with the bandages wrapped around it, and her blue trousers. She began to search for the end of the bandage, as she deemed it unnecessary, but as she twisted, she felt a sharp pain shoot through her torso. She winced.

"What?" asked the Doctor, looking up from the table of contents.

"Ugh," she said, turning back around to her natural position very slowly. "I can't find the end of the bandage."

He walked toward her. "Are you certain you want to remove it?"

"Yes," she promised. "I would be in loads more pain than this if I were broken, trust me."

"All right," he sighed, shrugging. He put his hands on her gently, around her ribcage. He slipped his hands around to her back and carefully felt for the bandage's tie-off. She leaned into him slightly as he did this, took in his scent, which did not escape his notice. He smiled warmly as he found the tie-off and began to unwind the bandage. They kept eye contact as he did this, until the last of the linen had fallen from her body and the Doctor tossed the long piece of cloth aside.

"Thank you," she whispered with a sheepish smile.

"Anytime," he whispered back. He turned once more, wistfully, back toward his book.

She crossed her arms in front of her and grabbed the tail of the chemise the hospital had given her. She prepared to remove it, but the shooting pain returned before she'd lifted two inches. She winced again.

The Doctor turned and looked at her. "Need more help?"

"Yes, please."

He walked toward her once again. "Can you get your arms straight up over your head?"

Carefully she pushed her arms straight up. He took the tails of the chemise between his fingers and pulled it up over her head and arms and hands. Slowly she lowered her arms, and stood there staring at him, nude from the waist up, goose bumps having nothing to do with the temperature. He grasped her upper arms lightly. He lowered his lips and kissed her ear softly, then the tender area behind her ear, and then her neck. Then he planted slow kisses down to her clavicle and across her shoulder.

She sighed with delight, losing herself in the sensation, but when she followed her instinct and reached out to put her arms around him, she was reminded of her injury. They looked at each other half with sadness, half with amusement.

"I guess now is not the time anyway," she whispered. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he whispered back, caressing her neck.

He turned and took up the grey dress, and he waited as she slowly shed her trousers and got her arms up once more. He laced her hands through the straps and let the fabric fall naturally around her. Then he helped her into the white blouse and a pair of black clogs. As they approached the chamber door, they kissed with restraint, then looked at one another with regret. They both would have liked very much to spend the evening nowhere but right here together.

But life with the Doctor meant that sometimes, injuries and aliens take precedence. So they headed downstairs.