Martha shivered slightly. It was the dead of night, dark and silent. Nathan had fallen asleep in her arms, a dead weight slowing her down. She was tired and her bones ached. Twice a pair of toclafane- they nearly always travelled in pairs- flew over her and both times she stiffened in fear, but they ignored her. For the thousandth she thanked the key slung round her neck, and thanked the man who gave it to her.

Nathan stirred in her arms and lifted his head slightly. "Mama?" Martha's heart twisted in her chest.

"I'm sorry darling," she said quietly. He began to cry in earnest, and Martha struggled to keep him in his arms. She was a small, light woman and he was a tall gangly nine-year-old boy far too old to be carried around. Martha sighed and laid him down on the ground, sitting beside him. "It'll be all right," she told him.

"How do you know?" the boy sniffed. Martha wrapped an arm around him shoulders, pulling him into a one armed embrace.

"There's this man," she began.

III

Martha felt something tickling her skin. She moaned. "Doctor..." Her eyes snapped open when she remembered where she was, fear twisting inside her. It was light now, and this light allowed her to see a young, fit looking man standing in front of her. Martha jumped up, causing Nathan to cry out as he was awakened.

"Martha..."

"Who are you?" Martha demanded of the man. "Err... Vous êtes qui?"

"My names Luke Heasell," said the man. Martha was surprised by his British accent. "And you must be Martha Jones." Martha warily shook his outstretched hand.

"Who do you work for?" she asked. "And how do you know who I am?"

"Not the Master," he assured her. "And everybody knows who you are. I'm part of the French underground. And I want to help you."

III

When the Doctor woke up it was to a violent shaking of his arm and a voice shouting in his ear. "Doctor! Doctor! I've got a surprise for you!" The Doctor opened his old eyes to meet the Masters.

"Leave me alone," he muttered, turning his head away. The Master snarled and grabbed the other Time Lord by the chin and twisted.

"You will listen to me," he growled. The Doctor looked over his shoulder; Tish was stood, frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide and scared. He attempted a small reassuring smile at her but she didn't acknowledge the gesture. Then he realised she wasn't worried about his wellbeing- not this time- she was looking somewhere else. The Master noticed his puzzlement and a sadistic grin toyed at his features. "C'mon gramps," he said, grabbing hold of his chair and wheeling him towards the tables. His hearts beat in his chest as he saw a body bag sprawled across the table. His gaze darted to Tish.

"Martha?" the name choked in his throat, the Master's smile faltered.

"Wrong bitch, Doctor," he said, making to unzip the bag. A pale hand felt out, charred and burnt. The Doctor looked at the remains, and his eyes dropped.

"Rose," he said.

"Yeah, your wife, Doctor," said the Master, his eyes tracing over the Doctor's posture. "Does it hurt?"

The Doctor was silent. The Master smirked. "I'll leave you with your wife," he said. "Let it sink in." He strode away, shouting for his own wife. The Doctor felt a soft touch on his shoulder, the first not violent touch his had felt in the last month.

"I'm really sorry." It was Tish, a gentle hand rubbing up and down his arm. "You don't have to hold it in, Doctor."

"I didn't love her," he said, staring through the body on the table as if he couldn't see it. "I mean... I haven't. Not for a long time." Tish sat down beside the older man, transfixed by what he was saying.

"Did you love... my sister?" The Doctor smiled. It made his cheek muscles hurt.

"More than anything," he said. Tish looked out the window, imagining her little sister down there on her own. She shuddered, and instinctively took the Doctor's hand. He looked at her and smiled. "I can tell you're related," he said.

"You're the only one," she smirked.

"How do you mean?" asked the Doctor. Tish bit her lip.

"Well Martha's always been the smart one. She's wanted to be a doctor ever since she was four, and she got it, or nearly has. She's the responsible one, the one that's been holding our family together since my Dad left Mum when I was twelve. She's the brave one, the one walking the earth for us all right now, and she's always been the sensible one. I mean growing up, I had boyfriends, she had homework buddies. I was out partying, she was in studying. She's the med student; I'm the airhead who managed to get a job by hitting on the boss..." The Doctor chuckled. "What?"

"Tish," he said. "You're brave, just like Martha. You've answered back to the Master more than once, let me tell you now it takes guts. You're protecting and reassuring your family behind the Master's back, just like Martha held you all together during another difficult time. You're more like her than you know Tish."

"Thanks," she said. "I- I can tell why she likes you. If we ever get through all this alive, I'd like to get to know you and Martha better as a couple."

"I'd like that."

"Me too." Tish hesitated. "We will get through this won't we Doctor? Because..." A tear leaked from Tish's eye. "I don't know how much more of this I can take." And the Doctor held her as she cried.

III

Martha stood in the makeshift kitchen quietly washing up the dirty plates and such. She took comfort in this simple act, remembering the days when she was a kid and her Mum would have a cloth and tell her to dry while she washed. The little chats they had in a rare moment on peace in the otherwise busy, frantic Jones household.

"You don't have to do that, you know." Martha turned to see Luke standing right behind her.

"I want to," she said. "I'm the guest." He smiled.

"You're single-handedly saving the planet," he said. "You're nobody's guest, Martha Jones." He paused. "Is it true, what you said back then? About you're... boyfriend?"

"The Doctor?"

"He's a lucky man," Luke said. "To have someone care about him so much she'd leave everything behind and walk the world for him."

"It's not all for him," she said. "It's for all of you as well. Did you really mean it? About being able to transport me everywhere?"

"We've got friends in high places with the Master," nodded Luke. Martha had learnt that there was an intricate web of underground civilians quietly fighting against the Master. It had touched her heart to find they had their organisation after her- the Martha dream.

"So you can really help me travel across Europe," she pushed.

"Sure. We got supporters with registered vehicles and a right to drive them. Do you know how many people are in this branch of the underground Martha? How many people listened to your story?" Martha shook her head. "Four hundred and fifty. Four hundred and fifty people spreading the word right now. First thing tomorrow we're sending out people to tell the other branches in the country that you are real and not just a legend. Everybody's going to tell everybody at the labour camps tomorrow. By the end of the day the whole of France will know. And then it'll spread. I promise you Martha, this mission your Doctor's sent you on, it won't fail." Martha was humbled by the man's severity, and on an impulse pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you Luke," she said. "It makes it all worth it when people like you turn up."

"God bless you Martha Jones," he said.

III Nine months later III

"We almost had her again today Doctor," the Master spun the time lord round in his chair. "Your girlfriend's getting careless."

Silence.

"Oh come on. It really was close this time. A group of soldiers surrounded the house she was staying in. Of course we gave the other people a chance to hand over Martha Jones but do you know what..." The Master smirked. "She wouldn't come! She allowed thirty-two lives to be terminated and slipped away. Tell me Doctor, are you proud of your favourite human?"

III

Martha listened to the shouts and demands outside the house.

"Martha Jones come out!"

"You have twenty seconds to make your way into the street!"

"I should go out," she whispered. "I've had a good run so far. I don't want anybody hurt."

"No! You can't!"

"I'm sorry."

"10! 9! 8!"

Martha took in a deep breath and began to walk determinedly though the crowd. Hands grabbed onto hers, comforting touches on her arm, pleads for her to stay. She brushed them all off. The house was in Japan; in the last nine months she had made her way across the whole of Europe and ventured into Asia. They had known about her before her arrival and they had all been so protective of their savour. But it looked like the game was up.

"4! 3! 2!" Martha rested her hand on the door, only to find it being pulled away. She opened her mouth to speak. "I-"

"They will never," said one of the residents of the house, fixing Martha was a passionate gaze. "Get hold of the one thing keeping us going." And he charged.

"NO!" shouted Martha, trying to push her way out the door. But Beniko- a strong nineteen year old man- grabbed her round the waist and pulled her back and more and more of the Japanese people swarmed through the door in an attempt to protect her. Nine months of similar situations and she still hated it.

"Please!" she screamed. "Stop!" But her shouts and pleas were mingled with a hundred others and the Master's soldiers and the toclafane overwhelmed them. She looked round in horror, trapped in the doorway by the strong arms restraining her. "Please let me go," she whispered, as it all went quiet.

"I'm sorry Martha," said Beniko, gently releasing her waist. She turned, pain visible on her face.

"You didn't have to do that... oh God people died..." His face crumpled but no tears came.

"I'm so so sorry," he choked. Martha cried out as her arms were yanked behind her back and fastened there with thick rope that bit viciously into her wrists. More hands grabbed at her, turning out her pockets and yanking at her face.

"It's defiantly her," said a voice. A bright light flashed before her eyes as a camera was shoved in her face.

"Here's your food kid," said another man giving Benito a large bag bursting at the seams. "Nice one." Martha's head was spinning.

"No don't!" she cried as a large tranquiliser gun was produced. "No! Don't you dare! Don't you... dare." Martha Jones closed her eyes.

III

When she opened them she was on a crude metal bunk bed with itchy sheets and a flat pillow. Disorientated, she sat up quickly in bed; her head spun. Then she started. The room was filled with people. People will thin wasted faces and dull eyes all trained on her. Swallowing nervously, Martha spoke.

"Where am I?"

III

Tish Jones stood nervously outside of the Master's bedroom balancing two breakfast trays in her hands. She was about to knock firmly on the door when she had heard her little sister's names spoken down a telephone and was frozen outside, listening to the conversation.

"Now listen to me," the Master was snarling. "I don't know what you think gives you the right to bargain with me but... don't you dare interrupt me!" A pause. "I'm not interested in Martha Jones. I don't care that she's in your labour camp because I could tear it to the ground as easily as you could paper. You won't get anything from me." Another pause. "I'm done talking." Tish listened with bated breath and was able to make out the clicks as the Master dialled another number.

"Yeah hi," he barked. "I'm getting bored of this. We're gunna do it Mike. Japan is gunna burn."

"Oh my God..." Tish couldn't help the exclamation slipping from her lips, and her heart raced as she heard unmistakable footsteps advancing towards the door.

"Letetia," he smiled. "You haven't been spying on me have you?"

"No... I?" The Master grabbed her wrist, the breakfast crashed to the floor.

"Pick it up!" he shouted, throwing her to the floor like a rag doll. She screamed.

"Let go of her!" Francine launched herself at the Master and he yelled out for security. They pulled the angry mother away from the ruffled Time Lord and the shocked young woman on the floor. The Master walked away in disgust.

"Tish," sobbed Francine, tugging her arm away from the security guard and dropping down on the floor beside her daughter. "Tish did he hurt you."

"Mum I need to talk to the Doctor," she said. "He's going to burn Japan. And that's where Martha is."

III

It had become a routine. A day of hard, excruciating labour, followed by all of the inmates coming round her to listen to her stories. Two weeks now, and she was already numb. She was tired all the time, struggling to find rest and sleep with all the traumatic events playing out in her dreams nightly. Without fail.

"I don't know if I can manage it tonight," she said as she lay in her bed, every bone in her body aching. Dull eyes still fixed on her.

"Come on. Just one," said a lone voice. Suddenly, with the turning of a key, the silhouette of a man was cast against the door.

"Martha Jones?" it said. "I'm here to save you."