Three points.

1) The Doctor gets a little mean here, but we knew that would happen, right? And it's going to get worse. But trust me, he does not enjoy it!

2) I realize that there is, at the end of this chapter, a big opportunity for a Tenth Doctor Classic Catch Phrase, but after writing it down, I found it a bit too "whimsical" for the situation. Hard to explain.

3) Sorry for the cliffie.

Chapter 14

Martha Jones gaped in disbelief at what she saw: the stage of the Symphony Center was empty. Nothing but empty chairs and music stands. The musicians had vanished, though the audience remained. And they were all looking at her almost with deadpan expressions; no emotion nor reaction.

Not five minutes ago, she had seen the orchestra members. She had heard them tittering about, and then warming up, and she had heard the symphony begin to play.

But then it had gone quiet, and now the stage was deserted. No trace of anyone having left, or having been there at all.

"Excuse me..." she began to ask the room, her voice reverberating against the acoustic devices throughout the large theater. She stood still amongst empty chairs where no instruments had been left nor even any sheet music could be seen, floating to the floor beneath the vents. Then she called out, "Erm, can anyone tell me..."

Again, her voice echoed through the space.

"Did anyone see what happened?" she asked. No-one answered. Someone in the audience coughed, the seats creaked as people shifted their weight, but nobody said a word.

She looked about contemplatively. She had seen the Doctor disappear from right in front of her while they were in the park at the festival, and even people who seemed to have been looking right at him when it happened, did not react at all. Perhaps this was something of the same phenomenon. Perhaps if Vance Ray the alien resided within the music, and the triangulation she and the Doctor had created had worked, then maybe the Doctor had got sucked into the lair, along with the music-makers themselves. And, if the transport has some kind of imperceptibility property to all who were not privy to the phenomenon, then, that was why these folks were staring at her, waiting for something to happen. There was no orchestra, they had seen nothing amiss, so she was the next best thing, because she was there.

"Okay, erm..." she said to them "Well, due to some unforeseen circumstances, tonight's performance has been cancelled. Please vacate the auditorium in an orderly fashion, and see an attendant to inquire about refunds. We apologise for the inconvenience."

No-one moved. She wondered if they could perceive her at all. She wondered if perhaps she was standing in a pocket dimension which seemed devoid of the orchestra's presence, but the audience was seeing and hearing the orchestra play.

"You can't even hear me, can you?"

"We can hear you," someone in the front row said. Martha looked down and shielded her eyes from the footlights, but she could not tell who had spoken, nor whether the voice had been male or female.

"Well, then, why are you all looking at me?"

To this, there was no response.

And then, like anyone with a secret, an insecurity, a hang-up, she began to feel that they were staring at her because they all knew. They knew she had had her heart broken just a few minutes ago. They thought she had been foolish and juvenile to fall for a man like that to begin with - how could she have believed that someone as well-travelled and worldly as he, could love her? She knew they were wondering it.

"Look, I'm not an idiot," she assured the audience. Then, after a long pause, she asked, "Haven't you ever been in love?"

Once again, an impassive silence greeted her question.

"Relationships are like all other living things," she explained. "It's not difficult to see. Sometimes they grow up healthy and last a long time, and sometimes, some sickness crawls inside, and it kills them. And in this case, the sickness was..."

In the moment of silence that, once again, followed her excuses, she looked around. She wondered why no-one was making a comment or supporting her... or even refuting her. At this moment, she would take any kind of response.

But why should these people support her? Why should they care? Come to think of it, why would they even know anything about this? Why in the world did she think they were judging her because of her relationship woes?

Come to that, why were they all sitting there looking at her? And where the hell had the orchestra gone? This was impossible...

Her eyes scanned the room one more time, and she turned three-hundred-sixty degrees, in place.

"Oh my God," she practically whispered. "This is fake, isn't it?"

Silence.

She smiled. "Oh, why didn't I see it before? It's Vance bloody Ray! Of course it is!" She was shouting now. She laughed, and turned to leave the stage. Her shoes made loud, echoing thumps on the wooden floor, and she pushed the door open and stepped back into the semi-circular backstage hallway.

She reckoned that the fantasy had begun when the orchestra disappeared, but she had no idea how it had happened without her noticing. She stopped in her tracks and called back down the hall for the Doctor, to see if he had made it into this scenario with her, but there appeared to be no-one at all backstage. She didn't linger, she just pushed through the door to the lobby. To her surprise, there was no-one there either.

"Okay!" she called out. "I get it! It's one of your stupid magic song things! Now, what am I supposed to do to get out of here? What do you want me to see, or realise or..."

All at once, a sickly, sinking feeling came over her. "You wanted me to know that my relationship with the Doctor is fake, too, didn't you? Blimey, was that whole thing part of your plan? Was all that time we spent together a fantasy too? Did you do that? Am I going to get dumped back in reality, only to find that there was no love, ever? Just a really really frustrating friendship?"

She looked about, wandering the lobby, unsure of what else to do. Her insides were coiling, getting ready to blow. She was heartbroken and literally cut off from the world.

"What do you want from me?" she screamed. Then, in frustration, "Damn it!"

She hoped against hope that the Doctor was still the Doctor, wherever he was, and that his instinct was still to help someone in trouble. He had broken up with her, but hopefully hadn't stopped caring what happened to her. No way he could do that... not him.

And then, something came over the tannoy of the Symphony Center. Some ethereal strings and winds, with no particular melody nor direction, rose up and filled the space. They were accompanied by a piano playing two-step scales up and down on the bass clef. It was beautiful and melancholy...

She thought of going back to the stage to find out if the orchestra had returned, but, she realised, that would be rational, and would make a kind of sense. This thing she was in, it wasn't meant to make sense. She felt sure that the building, and indeed the world, was deserted around her.

And then, she heard a familiar female voice begin to sing. It was the first time since being pulled by Vance Ray into one of his scenarios that she had heard any music outside of the festival, or without using headphones and a computer.

Upon hearing the voice, even before any meaning in the lyrics reached her brain, she began to cry. It was Enya. The otherworldly Irish singer whose album A Day Without Rain had been playing the first time she and the Doctor had made love. She had told the Doctor just a little while ago that if they were ever to have "their" song, it should be an Enya song.

Once, as my heart remembers,
All the stars were fallen embers.
Once, when night seemed forever
I was with you.

And then the meaning reached her. Once upon a time, when darkness reigned and all seemed lost... they were together.

At least mentally, Martha felt. The world was being ruled by a despotic psychopath, and yet, the Doctor had found a way to keep them united, even as she walked across the planet... and indeed he united the world.

But what was he trying to tell her with this? That perhaps even then, he loved her? That they didn't really need the music-manipulating aliens to show them the way? That their love wasn't really tainted by their interference, or a sham as a result of it?

Once, in the care of morning
In the air was all belonging.
Once, when that day was dawning.
I was with you.

Her mind drifted back to that early morning just a few weeks ago, the last time they had listened to Enya together. It had felt right... all belonging.

How far we are from morning.
How far we are
And the stars shining through the darkness,
Falling in the air.

They had come a long way, hadn't they? Just in a short time, they had developed a real, deep bond that transcended the "new relationship" debris. A strong friendship had given them what they needed to get through the hard times, and there were more hard times to come, she was sure of it.

Once, as the night was leaving
Into us our dreams were weaving
Once, all dreams were worth keeping.
I was with you.

Once, when our hearts were singing,
I was with you.

She sat on the bottom step of the staircase that led to the mezzanine, and wept with relief. They had been tested together, including this very scenario in which she found herself, and yet, they had come through intact. And she now realised that probably everything since finishing listening to Irénée in the library had been part of Vance Ray's little circus. All that talk about tainted love, all the miscommunication, all the nonsense about how "everything" was broken... that was the sham. And the Doctor had found a way to tell her so!

That meant that he knew how to get through to her, knew where she was! Hope filled her heart. Happiness surrounded her. She had a reason to claw her way out of this now, if only she knew how. Could she will her way out? Well, it was all she had, for now.

She assured herself that between her might and adrenaline, and the Doctor's brain and resources, she would be free at any moment, and wouldn't have to return to a life without him...

Worlds away, in the TARDIS, a being made of sound stood still, restrained as he was by the sonic device wielded by a very angry man.

He listened with contempt as the sappy Enya song played over the TARDIS' speakers and wafted into his open ears. He was annoyed that the Doctor had realised how the mechanism worked - how if the alien chose to close off his mind to the music, the victims of his manipulation could not hear it, and would remain that much more clueless.

But now, Martha Jones could certainly hear it. He could feel her inside his mind, and moments before, he had felt that she knew, all of a sudden, that what was happening to her was not real.

Vancheré silently chastised himself. The silent audience had been too much - gave the game away.

Now, he could feel her grief letting go, her fear abating just a little bit, and now she knew exactly when the song-and-dance began!

She had hope. She was growing anxious to be free, and Vancheré was growing fearful and desperate... it was getting more and more difficult to hold onto her. But he concentrated. He clamped down with his mind.

The song ended, and the Doctor came toe-to-toe with him once again. He aimed the sonic into his eyes, and said, "You're starting to lose your hold."

"My capacity for concentration is formidable, Doctor," answered the alien. "Stronger than some song, even if it is meaningful."

"It's not stronger than love," the Doctor responded, his voice low, and a bit too controlled.

Vancheré laughed. "Well, apparently it is, Doctor, because I still have her, and you don't!"

The Doctor pressed the sonic screwdriver to the alien's head. He wanted to induce pain, in an attempt to distract. Vancheré cried out with the pressure, but showed no indication that had lost his grip. The Doctor forced himself to push through the cries, for the sake of Martha. But he hated being this guy.

After a minute, he let off, and sonic in hand, panting, the Doctor stared at the immobilised sound being, and let the wheels turn. On the up-side, at least Martha now knew where he stood - he was in love with her, and he had tried to demonstrate to her that through it all, dark and light, night and morning, they were together and nothing could take that away from them. And he believed it. Love, he was sure, should be enough for her to climb out of the trap.

The alien laughed again. "And he stood breathlessly in his spaceship, and contemplated what to do next!" he mocked.

The Doctor, against his better judgment, pressed the sonic to the Vancheré's throat. The alien gurgled, as though being strangled. Then to his ear, then his ribs. Each body part in turn vibrated, causing searing pain, but nothing could unravel his concentration enough to bring Martha back.

"You're an idiot, Doctor," Vancheré said, now himself panting a bit. "My concentration... it's not immutable. It's like a bridge - it has to have some give so that when it's attacked, it doesn't just collapse!"

"You don't say."

"Once the symphony stopped, I got rid of the orchestra. Then the audience. All I had to contend with was Martha in a big building, in a big, empty city. Now, there's no city - there's only the building she's in. Every time I take away details, it frees up a little more energy for me to concentrate... and soon, I'll have her all alone in nothing space, and from there I can push her deeper into my mind."

There it is, the Doctor thought. Barring the bad guy giving up, he could usually count on the grandstanding, game-changing monologue that wound up giving the Doctor the upper-hand. Beings who manipulate reality and think it's a lot of laughs to mess with people's lives, well, they usually had some pretty monstrous vanity issues. And it could be their undoing.

If Vancheré's mind, and those of his siblings, had deeper levels like a labyrinth, and he knew how to slowly extract his concentration so aspects of his consciousness, including Martha, could be pushed down further, then the Doctor now knew what he needed to do.

"Is that so?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," replied Vancheré.

"I guess that means it's you or her."

"Grow up, Doctor. You may have got your song through, but I will remind you, she is out of your reach."

The Doctor stared contemplatively at his adversary for a few moments, not responding to the latest claim. Eventually, he took a deep breath, and said darkly, quietly, "I'd like to apologise. I really am sincerely sorry."

"For what?"

"For what I'm about to do."