I think you'll like this chapter! The first half has some fluffy family/relationship stuff, which was super-enjoyable to write, and it's stuff that I think we can all relate to.

But I hope the end of the chapter excites you, and makes you shout when you read it!

Enjoy!

TEN

The Doctor, Martha, Donna, and Colin had dinner at a "gourmet" burger restaurant, each of them ordering a combination of burger toppings they had genuinely never had on one plate before. "And for me, that's saying a lot," the Doctor had commented.

"So, your dad…" Colin said, settling into his seat after the waitress had brought their plates and walked away. "He's got some strong opinions!"

"Sorry about that," said Martha. "He just loved your granddad so much."

"Well, don't get me wrong, I mean, we all appreciate the sentiment," Colin qualified. "And my granddad was a great man, who deserved a good send-off. But that's why we had the wake."

"Right," Martha agreed. "Family together, a few laughs…"

"Enough Shepherd's Pie for an army," Colin added, rolling his eyes.

"Although I noticed there was chocolate cake," Martha said.

"Yeah, thank heaven for that, right?"

"What's significant about chocolate cake?" asked the Doctor.

"Ugh," Colin groaned. "My granddad loved this thing called Lady Baltimore cake."

The Doctor sucked in air through his teeth and winced. "Ooh, I've had Lady Baltimore cake. Nasty business, that."

"You've had it?" Colin asked, surprised.

"Well… I've been around."

"My condolences, mate."

"What is it?" asked Donna.

"It's three or more thin layers of white cake with white icing round the outside," Colin explained. "Except there are chopped pecans in the frosting, gritty orange zest in the cake, which is bad enough. But the killer is this: between the layers of cake, there's this pasty, sticky mash of molasses, brandy, raisins and dried figs. And sometimes dates, if you're feelin' frisky."

"Oh!" Donna exclaimed. "That's… unique."

"It's appalling!" Colin corrected.

"I mean, I could think of worse things…"

Colin continued, "All of us hated it, but at every family event, granddad insisted upon inflicting this monstrosity on everyone, and Aunt Marie would always make it. Unless his brother Philip could overrule him… but when Philip died, we were all left to the wolves."

"And he'd get his feelings hurt if people didn't eat it!" Martha laughed.

"So… I mean, we wanted to honour his memory and all, but for God's sake, we could do that without making the whole family gag. The Baltimore needed to be laid to rest," Colin declared. "So, for the wake, Martha's grandmother baked a totally civilised chocolate – actually she baked three of them – and everyone's dignity was restored."

"You two are lucky," Donna commented. "No-one in my family can cook at all. The Christmas turkey is always dry, the potatoes are bland, my mum's pies are always underdone somehow…"

"Tell me about your mum," Colin encouraged, smiling delightedly at having been given this opening.

In response, Donna, Martha and the Doctor all groaned. Then Donna launched into a full-scale description of her mother's abrasive personality. Colin found it all charming.

"Aw, it sounds like she's just trying to look out for everyone, especially you," he said.

"Oi," Donna snapped at him. "Don't do that! I might be a bit on the emotional side, but I know what I'm talking about!"

He held up both hands, disarmed. "I'm sorry," he said, still smiling. "I will reserve all further judgement, until I have gathered more information."

Colin then went on to describe his own parents, and his relationship with them, which seemed to everyone to be decidedly less complicated than that of Donna with her mum. They talked a bit about school days, shared stories of how they got their nicknames, and discussed their favourite music.

In all of this, Colin and Martha did get a chance to catch up a bit, as was the primary objective. He did ask quite a few questions about life as a doctor. She recounted the last few years for him, editing out the bits about travelling in the TARDIS, walking across the planet to save the world from the Master, and whatnot. She discussed her final rotations at Royal Hope and why she chose to apply for her fellowship in their A&E. The Doctor spoke as little as possible about himself, or about her, though he did comment on things like the food and service at the restaurant, and he chimed in about his favourite 1960's musician, Janis Joplin.

Colin told the story (largely for Donna's benefit) of his most recent girlfriend flitting off to St. Tropez for a dirty week-end with a co-worker, while telling him the whole time that she was in business meetings.

"How did you find out?" Donna wondered.

"My laptop crashed about a week after she'd come home, so I had to use hers."

"Oh, don't tell me… her e-mails."

"Bingo," said Colin. "A fairly graphic one was on the screen when I took it out of sleep mode – I didn't even have to snoop. I'm not the snooping sort, and she knew that. But it was like she wanted me to find it, you know?"

"Maybe. Either way, good riddance, eh?"

"Yeah," Colin agreed with a small chuckle." She was planning to leave me anyway, at least according to the e-mail chain… I just beat her to the punch, as it were. Felt good."

"Good for you. And maybe… good for me?" she added quietly, though loud enough for him to hear.

This made Martha smile.

At the end of dinner, the four of them stood outside the restaurant.

"So, Donna," Colin said. "May I see you home?"

"Actually, I'm staying with Martha at the moment," Donna said, wishing, not for the first time, that she had her own flat. To her friends, she said, "But you two can run along. I remember the address."

"Okay," Martha said, kissing her cousin on the cheek, and giving Donna a hug. "Have you got your key?"

"Yes," Donna answered with a smile.

"Then we'll see you… when we see you," Martha said.

The Doctor and Colin shared a handshake, and a, "Good night." Then the Doctor took Martha's hand and they walked away.

Once out of earshot, Martha said, "Well, that was… unexpected."

"It was, wasn't it?" he said. "I mean, it's brilliant."

"She's probably thinking we set it up."

"I hope not," he said. "That might just piss her off. Well, given the state of mind she's been in, and how she doesn't want anyone to pity her."

"I swear, it never occurred to me that they'd even notice each other!"

"I know," he chuckled. "You don't have to convince me. Although, considering how she's been so impressed with your family thus far, and vice-versa…"

"That's true," Martha admitted. She was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Do you think Colin looks like Wesley Snipes?"

"I suppose… a bit. Actually, I was thinking earlier, he looks not unlike your dad. Why?"

"That's what Donna said when he first walked in, and she started ogling him. 'Martha, why didn't you tell me your cousin was Wesley Snipes?'"

Again, he gave a chuckle. "What can I tell you? People see what they want to see. Besides it's a good-looking family. And clever, as it happens."

"I guess," she said, absently, contemplating the idea of Donna perhaps becoming part of her family. It wasn't an unpleasant prospect, just a bizarre one. It was like her two worlds were colliding.

Then he asked, "So, what do you suppose they're going off to do now?"

"I dunno," Martha shrugged. "To be honest, I'd rather not think about it."

"Why? Wait…" The Doctor stopped in his tracks and exclaimed, eyes wide, "You don't think they'd… they just met!"

"I have no idea," Martha told him, pulling his hand, coaxing him to walk further. "I have no idea whether either one of them would do that sort of thing on the first date, if that's what we're calling it. I wouldn't, but some people would, and that's perfectly normal. What difference does it make?"

"Well," he said, uneasy. "It's just… Donna's a bit fragile just now…"

"Oh, you're feeling protective," Martha realised. "I see."

"I suppose I am," he groaned, only realising it now, himself. "Nothing against your cousin, it's just…"

"I get it," she interrupted. "And, again, I have no idea if Donna would attempt to drown her sorrows in a fling… do you?"

"Of course not," he said. "I've only known her to be romantically involved with one person, and she was marrying him, not flinging with him."

"Well, Doctor, I know you don't know Colin that well, but I say, they are both people we can trust with one another's hearts. If nothing else, one thing is for certain."

"And that is?"

"It's none of our business."

"You're right," the Doctor said. "Though, I suspect you'll hear a bit about it tomorrow."

"I suspect you're right."

They walked in silence for a few moments, then the Doctor mused, "Hm. What attractive young singles get up to on a Friday night. The mind boggles."

"Feeling like an old man?" she asked, with a teasing bump against his arm.

"Donna's effect on me is weird," he said. "Right now, I feel like her big brother. Sometimes I feel like her insolent nephew. Sometimes I'm just her friend. It's kind of all over the board."

"I see. Do I make you feel all over the board?" she asked, flirtatiously.

"I never feel like your brother nor your nephew, if that's what you're asking," he answered, rather sotto voce. "But there is, let's say, a range of emotions when I'm with you, Dr. Jones."

"Well-said," she whispered. "So, how emotional would you like to get tonight, given that we have a guilt-free Friday night on our hands, just waiting to be shaped and shaken?"

"Ah, well, I have big plans."

"Do tell."

"I think we should spend an incredibly passionate hour-or-so in the TARDIS console room, where we will use the sonic screwdriver to rig up some highly erotic souped-up reverb, for a stethoscope that Donna can use as a surveillance device for Monday's meeting," he said, his voice low and romantic.

"That sounds heavenly," she sighed, jokingly.

"And then, I think we should go back to your flat, and upstairs, to see if we can annoy the hell out of your neighbour."

As it turned out, apart from lending him an extra stethoscope from her med school days, Martha's help was not needed while the Time Lord doctored the device for Donna to use, three days hence.

So, Martha retired to her flat, to fill the bedroom with candles. Upon further discussion, they'd reckoned that it probably wouldn't be sporting to actually try to irritate Mrs. Finley, and neither of them fancied receiving another phone-call, mid-shag. So, they promised each other they would keep things quiet tonight, no matter how incendiary they got.

After the promised hour, he turned up in her bedroom, and held up the stethoscope like a trophy. "Ta-dah. We'll try it out with Donna tomorrow."

"What did you do to it? Will I ever be able to use it again, for, like, normal stuff?"

"I just enhanced its resonance, and its scope. It's all very analog. Wilfred P. Tupperware's stolen technology shouldn't be able to sense it at all. And yeah, I can dial it back down again, so you can have a useable backup, if you ever return to your job full-time."

Wow, she thought. Now that was truly a discussion for another night.

"Okay," she said. "How does it work? Does she have to stand on the toilet and press the auscultator to the ceiling?"

"Well, now, that would be highly impractical."

"Yeah, it would."

"Especially since she needs her hands free to take notes."

"Right."

"No, it should work through pipes, and heating and air conditioning ducts," he said. "She'll need to arrive early, to find out where to put it, so as to get the maximum sound efficiency. I don't know what kind of heating/cooling or plumbing they have there… I didn't notice if there was a sink or any other water-related device in the conference room, but I'd wager there's an air vent of some sort."

"Would it help if we got hold of the building's blue prints, ahead of time?"

"Good idea," he said.

"Maybe we can check online."

"Even better. In any case…" he said, putting in the earpieces, and pressing the auscultator to the wall, against which Martha's bed was situated.

"What do you hear?"

"Mrs. Finley is brushing her teeth," he said. "I've just heard swishing and spitting. Now she's humming. Listen."

Martha took the earpieces, and understood what he was talking about. She could now hear water running, and Mrs. Finley singing a song… sounded familiar.

"But…" said the Doctor.

Then he moved into the bathroom, and pressed the piece against the wall behind the sink. He listened, smiled, then motioned for her to come try it. When she did, she clearly heard water – not just rushing, but several distinct streams of water, seeming to flow in different directions. She also heard Mrs. Finley singing words.

"…and so I've wracked my brain, hoping to explain all the things that you do to me! Bei mir bist du schön, please let me explain, bei mir bist du schön means you're grand!"

"Ah. Our Mrs. Finley is an Andrews Sisters fan," Martha chirped. "Who knew?"

"Interestingly enough, a song from 1938," the Doctor noticed. "Or was it 1937?"

Martha continued to listen to Mrs. Finley singing, and noticed that the words became a bit distorted, as though the woman had begun to try to sing without using her lips. Then, Martha heard snapping sounds at intervals.

"Oh my God! She's flossing! And trying to sing!"

He smiled. "She's actually got a pretty good singing voice."

"Yeah," Martha chuckled, pulling the auscultator away from the wall. "I wonder if we should phone her and ask her to stop."

"That would teach her," the Doctor said, in mock-seriousness.

"So, am I able to hear her with so much more clarity because she's standing next to the sink, and we're using the pipes behind my sink… and they're linked up?"

"Yep," he said. "Brilliant, innit?"

"As always," she conceded.

What followed was an hour or two of lovemaking, unencumbered by guilt, during which they played it as a bit of a game, not letting themselves make noise. Knowing that they would soon be floating free in the TARDIS, and able to do whatever the liked behind closed doors, they relished this idea.

What they did not know was that while they toiled, struggling delightedly to stay silent with one another between the sheets, there were agents of a faraway race in Martha's back garden, inspecting the blue box parked against the house.

They did not communicate verbally just now; they felt it was too dangerous. Rather, they used text-sending devices to converse, while skulking under the cover of Earth night.

"What's the problem?" asked one. "It's been an hour."

"I still can't get in," replied the other.

"What do you mean, you still can't get in?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean? I can't get in. Our Laserpic isn't penetrating the lock."

The first agent then took the Laserpic and tried it for himself, realising that the TARDIS was not going to be easily accessible to them.

"Our Laserpic isn't penetrating the lock," said the first agent.

"Gee, really? You don't say."

"But we were told the Laserpic could get through anything! We tried the Heblosaw, the Shulohammer and the Asietlift. Failing all of that, the Laserpic was supposed to work!"

"He's a Time Lord," argued he second agent. "And this is a Time Lord's vessel. We're not exactly talking about technological rubes, or had you forgotten?"

"No, I had not forgotten!"

"I don't know why you're so surprised that this is proving harder than we thought."

"How do we get to him, if we can't get into the TARDIS?"

There was a pause, then the second agent offered, "Wasn't it mentioned in the slideshow that the Doctor always travels with a companion?"

"Yeah, so?"

"The TARDIS is parked in someone's back garden."

"So?"

"So? Whose back garden is it?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Wow, you are a serious, serious idiot, do you know that?"

With that, the second agent began stepping toward the back door of Martha's flat. He used the Laserpic to open the door soundlessly, and the two of them snuck into the house. They tiptoed through Martha's mudroom and kitchen, then through the foyer up the stairs…

Still silent, still sensitive, still breathing heavily, the two of them lay enveloped the warm candlelight, enhanced by their own afterglow. She was on her side, and he was pressed up behind her, smouldering, kissing her neck, her jaw, whispering to her, letting his hand rest on her perfectly-shaped hip.

She was just drifting off to sleep when the bedroom door opened, and two beings stepped inside, both dressed in some sort of environmental protection suit.

They both sat up with a start. She instinctively pulled the sheet up to her neck and cursed at the intruders.

"Oh, right," she heard one of them say, the voice sounding electronic, as coming through a speaker. "Companion. I see. Euphemistic."

The Doctor had rolled out of bed, and fumbled on the floor for his pants.

"Which one is the Doctor?" asked a second voice.

"I am!" the Doctor answered, standing upright, wearing only a pair of blue and white striped boxers.

"Right, you're coming with us."

"No!" Martha shouted. "Who the hell are you?"

"Not you," one of them said to her. "That one."

She too now got up out of bed, pulling the sheet along with her. "Over my dead body! Who are you? Where are you taking him?"

By now, one of the abductors was moving round the bed, grabbing a supremely annoyed Doctor by the arms. He frowned hard, but he didn't struggle when they applied invisible handcuffs behind his back.

"Can I at least put on my clothes?" the Doctor asked.

"Quiet."

"Doctor, what's happening?" Martha asked him, not getting any answers from the intruders.

"They're from the Galactic Council," he answered, as one of the agents manhandled him toward the door. "I'm being arrested."

"Arrested? For what?" she shouted. "You haven't done anything!"

"Just stay calm, don't get in their way," he told her.

"Like hell!" she shouted, attempting to scratch at the agent now leaving her bedroom behind the Doctor.

"You should listen to him, dear," said the agent, who promptly touched Martha's neck with a device that rendered her immediately unconscious on the bedroom floor.

Whaaaaaa?

Maybe you have other words ;-). Leave me a review, let me know what they are... and thanks so much for reading!