I think you'll like this chapter! More juicy punches to the guts! More sensuality! More ambiguity (sort of)!
(You could consider leaving feedback a Christmas present to me! ;-) )
Enjoy!
TWELVE
"Doctor, I know I've asked you this a million times since we've been here," Martha whispered as they entered the Tactile Room. "But are you sure about this?" She knew the Doctor, and she knew that his first priority would always be the planet in peril. What was he thinking, agreeing to another Tactile session?
"If that thing is going to attack, then I'm going to help deflect it," he insisted. "And it will be a hell of a lot easier with their cooperation than without it. If the only way to make them let me help is to do this one more time, then..." He shrugged, in lieu of finishing his sentence.
"Okay, if you say so."
"It will be tough, though. I'm... well, distracted, to say the least."
Indeed, it took almost an hour to get the Doctor properly "under," in a meditative state deep enough to perform a Tactile session. No-one was too surprised that, blind or not, his mind was racing so hard, was so crowded with questions and uncertainties surrounding Vissa herself, Zefura, Gruner and the purple squid-ship, that he was not very well able to concentrate on the Forest of Solace and Solitude. Memories of long-ago were rightfully taking a back- seat to here and now. The stabilising pulse was somewhat of a help, the heat brought about its usual lethargy, and Martha's presence was most definitely calming. But Vissa's lulling, urging him to fall beneath it, to abandon his conscious mind...
"Vissa?" he said, unexpectedly, after about forty-five minutes.
She was taken aback. "Yes, Doctor?"
"Could you stop talking, please?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"I need you to stop talking. Let the stabilising pulse work its magic, let Martha hold my hand, and just... be quiet. I know how to meditate well enough. Your voice is grating on me just now - no offence."
"But Doctor..."
"Do you want to terraform this Forest or not? I'm hanging by a thread, here. As it is, you're not going to get very many quality forest images out of me... at least not that you can work with."
Reluctantly, after a pause, she conceded, "As you wish."
After about two minutes, he said, "Martha?"
"Yes?"
"Talk to me."
She grew immediately nervous. "What would you like me to say?"
"Anything. Just say it gently. What are you thinking?"
"Well," she said, gulping hard. "I'm thinking... I miss you. I miss our weird life in the TARDIS."
"It's good isn't it?" he mused.
"It's wonderful, the things we get to see," she agreed, stroking his hand. "I love the adventure, the open road, the running, the adrenaline..."
And she continued this way for just a few more minutes, with comforting reminiscences and reassurances concerning what they would be going back to after all this Solace and Solitude rubbish was over. She talked slowly until the faint notion of trees began to loom like apparitions in the holographic field. The Doctor frowned, trying to concentrate on the image.
Martha fell silent.
"Food was scarce, of course, in the Forest," the Doctor said to the gallery. "There had been stories of young people on their Passages who had died of starvation, and the attitude of the Academy's officials was, survival of the fittest. I don't know, in truth, if any official would allow that to happen to an adolescent... a child. I can't imagine they would..." he gulped.
The image of a skeleton leaning against one of the trees came and went, and then came back. It stayed this time for about thirty seconds before leaving.
"I did try, at one point, to grow some crops, plants to eat. But my life, the soil, my constitution at the time... none of them were stable enough for it to work."
He was silent for a long while this time, during which, Martha would have sworn she could hear her own heartbeat.
"It is terrifying," he continued. "Eventually, you learn to live with the idea of possibly being eaten by something large, or even freezing to death. That alluring mystery of the Forest becomes all-too-real, but you accept it. You accept it as part of the Passage. You build a shelter, you learn to cover your scent, hide from anything that has sharp teeth, and you relax, learn how to put it out of your thoughts so you can get to sleep at night. But hunger... it's an ongoing struggle. It never leaves your fully-conscious mind. But, the idea of languishing slowly with no food... Food is the only comfort in the Forest - at least the only external comfort - during the Passage. And if you can't find it..." he sighed, not finishing the sentence. "Maybe you don't die, but it's misery."
The skeleton disappeared, as the images of small animals showed themselves in the holographic Forest. A few of them were quite clear, as the Doctor began to discuss the creatures that he learned to catch and cook, and describe the process of, almost reverently, killing, cleaning and preparing them as a meal. He spoke with desperation, and his hand shook free of Martha's as he basically mimed the action of pulling the animal from the trap, skinning it, building a fire, and sharpening a stick to make a spit.
Again, he pointed out, "It is the only comfort." As he said this, his voice shook. "Alone and cold, nothing but communion with the bloody trees to look forward to. But, if you can find good food, something nourishing, you can look forward to this. It would be nothing short of glorious, if it had been a while since the last. The waiting, watching the spit spin the creature over the fire and cook it oh-so-slowly, it was torture sometimes. But you know... it has to be worth it. You have to make it worth it, because eating... this is the only time when you feel whole. All other times, you are weak and wanting, just working and thinking, becoming a Time Lord on the inside... but then, there's food! The hunger gets a break, for just a little while. And suddenly you know you have it in you to survive."
The Doctor continued for the next several minutes to muse on hunger and satiety in the Forest of Solace and Solitude, and finding comfort in it. More animals appeared, ones that he had hunted, as well as bushes of varying sizes and textures that bore berries and larger fruits. He alternated between describing the foods themselves and describing the nature of the craving, the fear, the temporary satisfaction they brought to the very heart of his survival.
Martha, in truth, found it fascinating. But then, she appeared.
Again.
The mystery woman, the ghost from the Doctor's mind, just on the sidelines, there she was, very much like when they had first seen her. Her back, smooth and glistening, shoulder blades, her well-formed, tapered waist, and the womanly flare of her hips. She remained this way, unmoving for the time being. But, Martha noticed, the image of her was much stronger in this instance, almost completely opaque, with only a hint of the transparency of before.
No matter how hard she tried to force it down, the jealousy bubbled to the surface, and Martha thought she might gag on it. She looked away, and took the Doctor's hand again, squeezing hard, trying to concentrate on what he was saying, not on the erotic debris inside his mind.
But the green-eyed monster would not be quelled - she could not help but feel slighted, even more so than before, because of the few heated, dreamlike moments they had shared.
Involuntarily, her mind went back to last night. She could hear his rasping voice right beside her ear, his words, as well as his hands, reaching out to her, irresistibly, like tentacles. She could feel the recent imprint of his hands on her, roving over her skin, fingertips digging in, desperate for solace, for connection, longing to know her. Her back, shoulder blades, tapering waist...
Her head suddenly snapped upright, her eyes drawn immediately back to the hologram, and the woman looming there on the side.
Interesting, she thought. That could be me. Those are the parts of me he has touched...
...except that image first occurred several days ago, well before last night.
"The trouble with finding what you need and want in the Forest," the Doctor was saying. "Is that you always want more. The hunger goes away only temporarily, and you find that though you were fine eating sour berries and bark a week or two earlier, those things now go dry in your mouth and make your stomach turn. Because yesterday, you had meat, and today you feel stronger, nothing less will do... and if it does do, even if it does manage to tide you over for a while, you feel bitter about it. You feel deprived and slighted."
With this, the image shifted again, and much as it had during its very first appearance, it turned, and the woman's neck, ears, chin, and the sides of her face became visible.
Martha caught a chill. The trouble with finding what you need and want, is that you always want more.
Phantom touches danced over her skin again, this time about her neck, ears, chin and the sides of her face. Last night as his fingers dug into her back, exploring the smooth flesh, his lips and nose had hungrily done likewise near her jugular, across her jaw-line, giving her terrible frissons of desire. She might go so far as to say, they had given him the same frissons, though she knew that the experience, for him, was about making a connection, compensating for the sense he had lost, and feeling whole again. She knew he had taken in her scent and listened to her breathe, not to mention the feel of her, the warmth, the life, reassuring himself she was real, she was there, that she was not going to leave.
You have to make it worth it, because this is the only time when you feel whole, he had said of finding food in the forest, just minutes before.
"Oh my God," she whispered, before she could stop herself.
"Martha?" he asked. "All right?"
"What?" she said, snapping out of her reverie, temporarily disoriented. "Oh. Yes, I'm fine. Carry on."
"Sure?"
"Absolutely. Keep going, Doctor."
He did. He squeezed her hand and continued to talk.
What the hell is going on? She asked herself, careful not to make any noises the Doctor could hear.
She struggled to reason.
In her travels through romance and sex, she had learned that for the most part, men were creatures of habit. There were periods and instances in which they would venture outside their comfort zone, but... well, most guys have things they do. There are "moves" they make, a basic repertoire they rely on because they are comfortable, arousing, make them feel like good. These could be gestures, a certain way that they kiss, body parts that they keep going back to...
The Doctor had a highly extraordinary brain, but perhaps he was no different from a human male in matters of the body. Perhaps the mystery woman was someone from his past, or possibly an amalgamation of individuals from his past, with whom he had had a near-identical experience as the one he had grasped at with Martha. Perhaps his reaching out to her was even more a matter of finding comfort than she had realised! Did he have a "thing" about the back and shoulder blades of a woman, feeling sensual and safe exploring them? Did his lips have a predilection for the sensitive neck and jowls? Did he even realise this about himself?
He began to tell a story of a particularly difficult phase of hunger, in which he'd caught some kind of virus, and for a long while, had been ill, lacking the strength and agility to catch fast-moving prey. He had subsisted on fruit for quite some time, until, one day while he was well on the mend, he had run across two classmates. They used their short time allotted together to bring down a very large animal. After that, they split up the meat. The Doctor salted his share, providing him hearty food for weeks, if he was careful. He talked about the relief of having companionship, if only for a little while, along with the security that came with having an actual supply of nourishing food, and not having to worry himself to the bone for a time. What a coup it was for his spirit, what an inflating occurrence for his ego...
And the mystery woman morphed, though she did fade, just a little, becoming just a tad more transparent. Just like before, the sinews of her stomach muscles filled in from left to right, and back again, little by little, followed by the upper portion of her midriff. Small, round breasts formed from bottom to top, and once again, when the tactile image reached her nipples, she keened and arched, presumably in pleasure.
Martha held on tight to the Doctor's hand, and to one of her seat's armrests, in trepid anticipation. She knew what was coming next.
As expected, it was at this point when the upper thighs filled in, and began to spread. She knew she had to let it continue for the Doctor's sake, and for the sake of the terraforming mission, and/or the Rescue-These-Ungrateful-Idiots-From-A-Purple-Spaceship mission.
The Doctor, seemingly oblivious to the display, talked about the next few weeks, and how he was able to recover completely from his sickness. He was able to regain his strength and self-worth, and have a new outlook on the whole experience of the Passage. He talked about climbing rocks and feeling wonderful, swimming in streams and feeling as though he could do anything. If nothing else, he could finally breathe for a while, and relax with the knowledge that he would have enough to eat.
He talked of the relief, the all-consuming satisfaction of it. And as he did, the woman's hologram, now a fully-formed naked body, though still lacking any identifying marks above the neck, continued to arch and keen, in the throes of some powerful bliss. In spite of herself, Martha watched her. And to her surprise, curiosity piqued. Jealousy fell away inexplicably, and was replaced by something else. Something about the image, which before, had made her feel nauseated, now held her fascinated. What was it about her, this hologram of a woman, writhing in ecstasy inside the Doctor's memory? Why, now that she had breasts and legs and arms and movement, was she so much more riveting than when she was just a collection of body parts? She felt it was just on the translucent insides of her unconscious, and all she had to do was pop the balloon and all would be revealed, but...
What the hell, Doctor?
Cliffs and streams took shape in the principal portion of the hologram, as texture began to rush into the Doctor's tactile recall.
"After that experience, I thought I could survive anything," he told the gallery. "It might have been the formative experience that most shaped who I am today - the spirit of adventure, dauntlessness... though I've felt my share of daunted in my life. But I'm much more outside-the-box than my fellow Time Lords. I can't say for certain what makes me that way, or that it's even a good thing, but... there, in that bleak forest, my body and spirit sick, with companionship, I found real solace, real freedom, real relief, real quelling of that hunger."
Companionship. Solace. Hunger. Satisfaction.
Martha's mind tugged at her. She watched the Forest images, and she watched the woman's body. She listened to the Doctor, and tried to listen to her own subconscious.
"I suppose you could have called me a fool, and it wouldn't have been the first time, nor the last," he continued. "But... I felt invincible. I climbed atop that cliff, and took a leap of faith."
Holographic manifestations of water, surrounding water.
"The River Potenza. It was deep and cold. Brisk like a tundra and yet welcoming like an embrace almost... I enjoyed the pain. I had never felt more alive!"
And that was when the woman's face appeared. It was not clear at all - it was still quite foggy. But it was unmistakable, immediately identifiable to Martha, if to no-one else. The features grew tight, and streaked as they moved, then settled into only slightly more recognisable shapes. The eyes closed and the mouth fell open. Her arms flew up over her head, and seemed to grasp at something. The sounds she was making could not be heard, of course, but from the quick, up-and-down movements of her chest, they could be divined.
A slight gasp escaped into Martha's mouth through her clenched jaw as she watched. And as recognition set in all over the room, there was a low din. She could feel the shock spreading, followed by amusement. In her mind's eye, she could see the mischievous grins that were crawling over the faces of everyone watching, but she did not look. She could feel Vissa's eyes on her. She could feel the judgment, the questioning, the doubt.
The figure in the hologram, the Doctor's unrelenting, unconscious mental debris, threw back her head and pulled hard against something, crying out silently into the gallery. She was in the undeniable, explosive throes of orgasm inside the Doctor's mind, amid his discussion of an embracing pool of water, the feeling of companionship, release, satiation of hunger and being convinced of his own assured survival. And for the first time, she had a face.
The Doctor stopped talking, having realised that something strange was happening around him, that people were whispering to one another, instead of listening to him. He was not offended, just confused.
"Is everything all right?" he asked her.
She swallowed hard. "I think I just realised what caused the purple ship to appear in your hologram, Doctor," she told him.