The Doctor blinked awake, a stabbing pain searing through his dreams and bringing him back to sharp reality. He groaned, tousling his hair with one hand and peering across at Martha. She lay peacefully by him, breathing steadily, her mouth slightly open. As he sat up, she shifted her position and laid her head on his chest. He gazed down at her in wonder, stroking her soft, smooth hair rhythmically. His lip curled when he noticed the crude, yellow bruises patterning her neck. They only just hid the recently healed wounds of her previous abuse.
He felt the stabbing pain again and winced, gripping the bed covers to prevent himself from crying out.
"Ouch," he hissed underneath his breath. "Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch." He kneaded his temple with his clenched fist, then gasped.
"Where were you?"
A familiar, silky voice spoke clearly in his head. "Why did you leave me for so long?"
"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I couldn't hear you. Or feel you. It was like…"
"The unsettled time, as you very well know," the TARDIS finished. "Are you coming for me or not?" The Doctor's eyes flickered from the slumbering women in the bed beside him, to the window, displaying the incredible sunset one can only see when by the coast. And she was out there somewhere.
"Where?" he said aloud.
"You know where I am. You can sense me. You know I'm not far away."
"I can't leave Martha," he said.
"Yet you leave me." Her voice was low and mournful. And suddenly it snapped. Was the TARDIS… jealous? It seems preposterous. But still…
"You are aren't you," he said. "You're feeling neglected, aren't you?" The reply was a cold, steely, silence. Now the Doctor was stuck. On one hand, he was pretty sure that after his protectiveness yesterday, Martha would not appreciate him going gallivanting off on his own. Without telling her. On the other hand, he was desperate to make sure the TARDIS was okay. He didn't feel safe without her near, and he needed to ensure she was in a good place before they resumed their 'investigations'.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. He slid out from underneath Martha and tucked her up underneath the covers. He brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth and buttoned up his jacket. "I'll be back soon." Then he slipped on his shoes and left Mrs L's b and b. He just hoped Martha would forgive him.
!
!
The Doctor was not the only one to be awoken by pain. Martha Jones jolted awake as a persistent ache in her back pound violently. She sat up in bed, rubbing the small of her back in circular motions, trying to orientate herself.
"Doctor?" she mumbled. Flicking her hair from her eyes, she looked around. That was when she realised he was gone. Her brows furrowing in annoyance, she called out. "Doctor!" No reply. She sighed. She wished he were more… reliable. Ok, so she trusted him with her life and would jump off a cliff if he told her that he would catch her at the bottom, but still. Saying that he loved her was all well and good- fine, it was bloody marvellous- but if he was just going to disappear without thinking to alert her…
Martha stumbled to her feet and ran a hand through her hair. She walked out of the room in search of a bathroom, her back throbbing. She stood over the sink, gazing groggily at her bleary reflection, and fumbled for a toothbrush in the small drawer. Halfway through brushing her teeth, a wave of dizziness passed over her. She dropped the brush and clutched the side of the sink. She heaved… and vomit splattered the inside of the basin.
"What?" And all at once, she felt all right again. Martha looked around warily. What the hell was in that toothpaste? She found a flannel and washed the specks of sick off her face, out of her hair. It was just like the A&E, really. As she washed out the sink, she felt almost embarrassed. What had come over her? She was glad the Doctor wasn't there to see it. She could imagine his reaction all too well.
After slipping on her clothes, Martha hurried down the steep stairs, her stomach churning.
"Doctor?" She searched the whole house, the garden, even the shed. He was nowhere to be seen. Feeling decidedly nauseous, Martha collapsed into a kitchen chair. She buried her face in her hands, and tried to straighten her mind. She had to sit here for a few seconds, organise her thoughts, and settle her stomach. If she was calm and quiet then it would all go away…
The next thing Martha knew she was slumped in the chair, the freezer door ajar, shovelling huge spoonfuls of ice cream into her mouth. The coldness seems to numb her taste buds, she could hardly even recognise the flavours. She wanted more. As she scooped another lump of ice cream from the tub she was struck by a sudden thought. The spoon froze over he bowl; the ice cream slid off the spoon and plopped onto the table.
"Oh God," she whispered. She dropped the spoon, one hand fluttered to her stomach. "Oh my God." She stood up suddenly, the world spun around her. Pushing back her chair, Martha began to run. Out the door, down the road. In search of a chemists.
!
!
The Doctor stood on the edge of the cliff; gazing into the dark, grey depths of the sea. As he watched, the humongous waves threw themselves at the jagged silhouettes of the rocks. The sheer power and force was incredible. Even to a nine hundred year old time lord.
He raked a hand through the deep brown spikes of his hair and gazed across the chunk of grass, mounted with a towering lighthouse that was Portland Bill. He could feel the TARDIS in his mind, egging him on. She knew how close he was.
"I'm coming," he muttered. He reluctantly abandoned the breathtaking view and crossed across the grass, hands in his pockets, his long brown coat flapping behind him in the breeze. He reached the lighthouse, and reached out a hand to try and touch the rough curves of stone. His hand bounced back.
"That's interesting," he said. "Why would anyone want to protect a lighthouse?" He pressed against the force field again. He would try and get through that later. He had the TARDIS to sort out first, and if he didn't get back to Martha before she awoke, she wouldn't be kissing him again any time soon.
He walked round a corner, and saw the reassuring shape of the tall, blue box.
"Hello!" he beamed, breaking into a run. He opened the door and skipped in. "I'm back!" He began to fondle the TARDIS controls gently. "Let's move you somewhere nicer, hey? Nearer the house. More convenient." Suddenly sparks flew from the console. "Hey! What you doing!"
"I refuse to move," said the TARDIS.
"What? Why?"
"You'll understand one day. I'm sorry."
"Right," said the Doctor. "So you brought me here for nothing, then. Fabulous. What even made you move?"
"I cannot say."
"Right," he said again. "So I'm here for a reason, but I'm not allowed to know what the reason is. Right. I need to go now."
"Doctor, please. It's necessary… I cannot say…"
The Doctor was about to retort, when his phone rang. He answered it immediately and began to talk down the phone.
"Martha," he said. "I'm sorry. I had to leave, I know it was horrible. I know you're mad at me. I heard the TARDIS again, I had to find her."
"I'm not mad at you," Martha. Her voice sounded rough and tired. "I understand."
"I'm coming back right now," he said. "Don't worry."
"Doctor," she said. "I have something to tell you."
"What?" he asked, his insides crawling nervously.
"I'm… I'm pregnant," she said. "I'm going to have a baby."
"What?" The Doctor's mind was racing. "Are you sure?"
"I think so, yes," she replied.
"Hold on," he said. "I'm coming. Stay where you are." And he snapped the phone shut.
!
!
Martha was sat on a rock in hallelujah bay, her knees clenched to her chest. She didn't know what to think. She had known the second she had looked at the positive pregnancy test in her hand she was keeping the baby. But she knew no more than that. She wasn't ready for this. After what had happened his Tom, and what had just occurred between her and the Doctor, she needed to slow down. But her life had just doubled in speed.
She watched as the vicious waves lapped against the rocks and felt something tug at her heart. What must the Doctor be thinking? He didn't especially like children. She couldn't put him through raising one. Her heart sunk. She'd have to leave the Doctor. It was the only think to do.
"But I love him," she whispered, the wind tugging at her words. "And I think he loves me. But he won't love my baby." And what about the child's father? Tom? He was imprisoned; Martha and the Doctor were still sorting out the divorce. It was out of the question to let the baby see his or her father. He was too dangerous; Martha still bore scars of their marriage, physical and emotional. God, what if the baby took after Tom? What if they turned out as killers? No, Martha would never let that happen. But should she tell Tom, or not?
"Martha! Martha!" It was the Doctor. She gathered her stray emotions, ordered her jumbled thoughts and managed to call out to him.
"I'm here." She heard his quick footsteps pounding on the loose stones, and soon he came round the corner, hopping over the larger rocks. He hesitated, panic clear on his face.
"Martha," he breathed. She stood up.
"Hi," she said nervously. He crossed over to her, and hugged her gently.
"Are you all right?" he murmured. She nodded; they both sat down on the boulder. The doctor rested his arms on her shoulders and she lent close to him.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Why?"
"Bad timing. I know you have a thing about babies."
"Not if they're yours," he said. "Do you know how far along you are." She nodded.
"A month and a half," she said. "But I didn't even notice. Call myself a doctor."
"And the Dad. It is Tom, isn't it?"
"Definitely. Like he'd even give me a chance to leave the house alone, let alone… it's Tom."
"Can I?" he asked. She nodded. He placed a hand on her stomach. "He's in there somewhere," he said. "Or she."
"He can hear you," she said. "But, does that mean we have to… call it a day now? I know you won't want a pregnant women travelling with you. I won't be too fast at running in a few months."
"You want to go home?" he asked.
"Not really," Martha admitted. "But you're not saying that you wouldn't mind travelling with a hormonal, massive, fat pregnant woman with mood swings and morning sickness, are you?"
"Yes," he said quietly. "I'd understand completely if you wanted to stay with your family, and I'd understand if you wanted to stay on and give your child a proper, safe childhood on earth, but I won't pretend I'd like it."
"I wouldn't like it either."
"So what do you want to do?" he asked. Martha licked her lips.
"I think-" she began. But due to the muddle of events that followed their conversation, due to the terror and the fear, the killing and the violence about to take place, what Martha thought, the Doctor never found out.
