What you are about to read will not fit in with the Doctor Who timeline as we know it. But what the hell? It's fan fiction, right? Also, when characters are time-travellers, they scoff at timelines anyhow!
I hope you have as much fun with this scene as I did!
TEN
"Who is this?" the Doctor shouted harshly into the phone.
The voice on the other end laughed. "Oh, Doctor, you haven't changed a bit, have you?"
"That depends who's asking," said the Time Lord.
"Oh, it's me," the voice lilted. "It's me, it's me! I'm asking from all points in time. Apparently, anyway."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Who knows?" said the voice with a cackle. "You know I'm a little unhinged. Always have been, n'est-ce pas?"
The Doctor made a face that suggested tedium. "Well you're certainly a bit off-kilter just now," he muttered amid hysterical laughter.
"Who is it?" Martha whispered loudly, though she had clearly heard the Doctor ask that very question. He shrugged at her exaggeratedly, and scowled hard at Farid.
"Oh, Doctor, I can't wait to see you!"
"Yeah, you know, the feeling is mutual," he said with an absurd amount of enunciation. "Although I believe you'll have me at a disadvantage."
More laughter. "All right then, you handsome devil, you. I'll be right there – don't move a muscle!"
And then the line went quiet, and the Doctor handed the phone back to Farid.
"She's coming," he said darkly.
"She?" asked Martha, incredulously.
The Doctor nodded once, and the look of disgust, mistrust, trepidation and the unknown on his face, gave Martha the chills.
The three of them stood in an impossible stairwell silently, awkwardly, for the thirty seconds it took for a door upstairs to open, and for the woman's voice to fill the space.
"Yoo-hoo! Doctor!"
He sighed. "Who is she?" he asked Farid, his voice low and firm.
Farid shrugged. "I don't really know," he answered mutedly.
"Oh, don't be so daft! How can you not know?" the Doctor hissed.
Meanwhile, footsteps down the metal stairs were coming closer, and giggles could be heard coming from the woman in question.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she half-sang, half-moaned, "Doctor," in a way that seemed to him oddly familiar. But he was fairly certain he had never seen her face before.
The Doctor and Martha sized her up separately.
For his part, the Doctor did not receive a human vibe from her, though he had admitted to Martha earlier that his ability to assess a human vibe might, in fact, be total rubbish. But, he reckoned, not this time. Something about her got under his skin much, much more than any human ever could. The sensation he received was familiar, and yet... impossible.
She had only said one word to him face-to-face, and already he could tell that she was trying to put him off-balance. He had an idea that she was clever and crafty – not your average attractive woman, flirting with a man to get the upper hand. Not even your average alien, pretending to be an attractive woman…
But his gut was turning over. Some sort of sense was tingling, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Again, familiar and yet, impossible.
Though, how impossible, really?
Martha noticed that she and the woman were both in heels, and the other woman was just a bit taller. Martha wore boots, but the new arrival donned black spike pumps, with a black business suit. The blazer was buttoned at her thin waist (though flared out to show her formidable curves), and the trousers were painted-on tight, really more like leggings. She had dark hair styled in a carefully-crafted "messy bun" on top of her head, large eyes, a severe mouth, and in human terms, Martha judged her to be about thirty-five to forty years of age.
Inwardly, she chuckled. Striking features, stylishly-mussed dark hair, well-fitted suit, looks to be maybe thirty-seven or so… sound familiar?
"I would sexily heave your name right back at you, if I knew it," the Doctor said, though not flirtatiously. He was annoyed and made no secret of it.
The woman chuckled. "Oh. My companion hasn't told you yet?" she asked, tossing a glance toward Farid.
The young man frowned. "I didn't think you'd want me to do that. You said the Doctor was…"
"Hush now, love," the woman lulled, condescendingly. "You're thinking again. What have I told you about that?"
Farid clammed up immediately, though not necessarily happily.
"And by the way, you and I will deal later with the fact that you allowed yourself to get caught! But I digress," she said. Then, her tone changed, and she practically shouted, smiling widely, "Speaking of companions… Martha Jones! Fancy meeting you here!"
Martha frowned with confusion. "Yeah. Fancy that."
"It's so good to see you!" the woman said, coming toward her. She walked up to Martha and wrapped both arms around her for a hug, which Martha received with no welcome, no affection, no movement, and with a quizzical frown in the Doctor's direction. The woman pulled back from her after a few seconds, and took both of Martha's hands in hers, then held them aside and seemed to look her over. "You're looking well! Fit as ever!"
"Erm… thanks?" Martha said, awkwardly.
"Physical fitness is an important quality in a companion, isn't it, Doctor?" With that, she gave the Doctor a deep wink. "I mean, just check out my Farid."
She moved toward Farid and ran one hand over his chest, then rested her palm on one of his well-muscled biceps.
"Yeah… he's a dish," the Doctor said flatly.
"Isn't he just?" she said, giddily. "I mean, just fancy a woman my age gallivanting about with this one. I mean… he keeps me hopping! Well, he keeps me doing lots of things." She planted a wet kiss on Farid just then, which seemed to mortify the man.
The woman then looked Martha over again.
Martha became self-conscious, and began to look herself over. She gazed down at her chest, and practically shouted, "What? Do I have marinara sauce on my shirt? What's the look for, eh?"
"Sorry, sorry, dear. I'm being rude," the woman conceded exaggeratedly. "It's just… I can't help but think… Farid is in great shape, make no mistake, but, well, he's not you."
"No, indeed, he is not," Martha said cautiously, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Farid," said the woman, turning toward her companion. "You can learn a thing or two from this woman, about what it really means to be a faithful companion. Miss Jones – or is it Dr. Jones now?"
"What are you saying?" Martha spat. "How do you even know me at all?"
"Dr. Jones once literally walked across the planet for this man," she told Farid. "Walked. Meaning on-foot. Across five continents. All for the love of the Doctor. Isn't that sweet?"
"Yeah," Farid answered, having no other choice.
"That is true love, that is. It also might account for that tight little body of hers, eh? I mean, I'd kill for a bottom like that."
"Okay, that's enough," the Doctor interjected.
"Oh, don't get your pants in a bunch, Doctor," she scolded. "Don't tell me you've never looked! Even I've looked! I mean, come on, you could bounce a coin off that arse!"
Martha took two steps back, and shifted positions uncomfortably, and noted that this woman, whoever she was, had her and the Doctor completely off their game. The Doctor clearly had little or no idea what to make of her, and in fact, she was employing the Doctor's favourite trick of talking the adversary into submission. Somehow she doubted, though, that her intentions, in so doing, were as noble as the Doctor's generally were.
She wondered if perhaps the Doctor was letting the woman talk because it was a way to gather information about her. What she knew about the two of them was truly surprising… how could she know it? Martha wondered if the Doctor was close to working it out.
"Speaking of which, Doctor," the woman continued. "Have you thrown this poor woman a bone yet? Literally or figuratively? I mean, you know she's got it bad for you, and any woman who would do for you what she did…"
Martha's stomach did flips. The woman knew, not only about Martha's actions during The Year That Never Was, but also of Martha's feelings for the Doctor, and that for far too long, those feelings went unreciprocated. She cursed inwardly.
The Doctor did not answer the question, but remained in a steady scowl, perhaps hoping to stare her down.
The woman began laughing hysterically. "Oh, that's chuffing brilliant! You have!" she cackled. She turned to Martha. "Congratulations, Martha. He finally melted that cold and noble shell and showed you what's inside those well-fitted trousers of his!"
"Wow," Martha commented, incredulous.
"I myself would not know," she continued. "But I know him well enough to know that if I'd asked a bawdy question like that, and the answer were no, he'd have exploded at me with righteous indignation. The lack of an answer, well… it tells me he's been giving it to you good. Yeah?"
Martha's eyebrows went up even higher. "Wow," she repeated.
"Good for you, Doctor. Martha deserves it."
The Doctor exhaled heavily, and echoed Martha. "Wow."
"He thinks he's so damn inscrutable," the woman laughed, again addressing Martha, now, as if they were old girlfriends. "But a woman knows how to read a man. Never believed that until now, actually – funny old life, this. But actually, truth be told, I've always been able to read the Doctor. He'd tell you that's rubbish, but actually, he's a pretty easy bloke to read. For instance, right now, he's wondering how to respond to me without letting on that he's still not sure who I am."
At that, she laughed.
The Doctor moved toward the wall, and leaned against it, making a show of being bored. "I'll just wait. Clearly, you've been rehearsing quite a while to put on this little song and dance, so, far be it from me to interrupt. I reckon you'll tell me something I can use when you get bloody good and ready."
"Shall we bring them upstairs?" Farid asked her.
She sighed, looking at Farid, as though she couldn't believe how stupid he was.
"I'll tell you, Doctor," she sighed. "Not only is Farid not as fit as Martha – having lacked that whole ultimate aerobic experience and whatnot – but he's not half as clever either."
"Now that I can see," the Doctor agreed.
"She's clever, clever, clever," chirped the woman. Turning to Martha, she said, "And I mean that. From the bottom of my hearts, Martha."
"Hearts?" Martha asked.
The Doctor stood up straight, with recognition, and a slight bit of panic in his eyes.
That feeling. That familiar, impossible feeling...
"Brilliant enough to bring a Time Lord to his knees," the woman said. Then she winked. "Whatever that may mean to you."
"Hearts?" Martha repeated. "Plural?"
She saw Farid frown. He hadn't known.
The woman looked at the shock and uproar on the faces of everyone in the dank room.
She fixed her gaze on the Doctor. "Oh, look at that. He's just worked it out. How very droll."
"Doctor, how... what...?" Martha asked, unable to quite articulate all of the questions coming to mind.
The woman moved and put her arm around Martha's shoulder, in another hug against her will. "Aw, bless. The brilliant Dr. Jones isn't there yet."
"Get your hands off her," the Doctor commanded, moving toward them both, with razor blades in his voice.
"Now, now, no need to be that way. Things have changed, wouldn't you say, Doctor?" she said, indicating her face with her free hand, and then her curved hip. "It's not like the old days when we'd have to, you know... compete for the same resources. She's all yours."
"Get away from her now," the Doctor commanded once again. He tightened his teeth and approached the woman, tried to stare her down. "After what you put her through, you'd have the gall to…"
"Yeah, gall," said the woman, letting go of Martha, and hardening along with the Doctor. Her eyes narrowed, and her sickeningly sweet demeanour melted away. "It's what I've got. It's what I've always had, and what you've always lacked. I suppose you could say it's why we have never got on. Or, at least, not in a long, long time."
Confusion clouded every part of Martha's vision and ability to cogitate. She hadn't noticed, but Farid had drifted over to her side.
"What the hell?" he breathed at her.
"Wish I knew," she responded.
Yay! Leave me a review!