*crying emoji* This is the second-to-last chapter, mis amigos! It's been a fun ride, this...

But before we start weeping, we still have to wrap up the Epidromeas' adventure, and finish telling the story of Martha and the Doctor, and their each-other angst!

Remember, Martha's on the beach, having just been vacated by the Epidromeas, and her family plus Donna are in the TARDIS, doing something nebulous with the sonic screwdriver...

And away we go. For the second-to-last time!

TWENTY-SIX

"WTH is happening?" Martha had texted Donna. She found a spot under a palm tree, where she could more easily read her mobile phone's display.

The last thing she clearly remembered before "coming to" on the beach a few minutes ago, was standing in the TARDIS console room with Donna and the Epidromeas in the Doctor's body. She had tried to convince it to take her instead… apparently it had listened. It had sensed love in the Doctor's hearts and mind, and reckoned he would do its bidding, if it held Martha Jones hostage…

After that, she had vague memories of pacing about inside the TARDIS, threatening Donna somehow, though she wasn't sure how. And she had a very faint sense of having walked down this hill with the intention of finding the Doctor, and with murder on her mind…

"Oh God," she groaned. She sent a second text to Donna. "Doctor is with you?"

"No, he is on a boat. Come back to hotel. Will explain," a text came back, a minute later.

"Epi? Where is it?"

"Just come back."

She sighed. She realised then that she had no idea if the person texting her was really Donna. She also now had no idea where the Doctor was - in the hotel, or on a boat. Why had the alien been convinced enough that the Doctor was on a boat, to make a deadly beeline for the shore and for a boat-rental kiosk, but then, convinced enough that the Doctor was in the hotel, to go after him there? And why would it do that, considering that she and Donna had already convinced it that being in the Doctor's body guaranteed it an impossible Catch-22?

She didn't know what her best course of action was, but it certainly wasn't to stand right there under the palm tree, waiting for a sign from the cosmos. She needed to go in one direction or the other.

First question: what was her priority?

The Doctor. She needed to know where he was, and if he was okay.

She realised that she was now putting the Doctor's health and safety over that of her entire family, but in her gut, it made sense. The future of the planet might depend upon it. Also, sickening, blinding, panicky love would be driving her every action, until she knew he was safe.

She ran over the sand back to the kiosk. The same swarthy man was still there, of course.

"Hello again. Or… perhaps for you, it's the first time we've met?" he suggested, with a smirk, making a joke in poor taste about Martha's supposed 'short-term memory loss.'

"How long have you been on duty?" she asked him.

"I don't know… three hours? Why?"

"Did a man in a brown pin-striped suit rent a boat from you?"

"Our company's Senior Safety Inspector came through about an hour or so ago, and took one of the speed boats out for a spin," he said. "And yes, he was wearing a brown pin-striped suit. It was interesting – I've never seen one of the suits actually come down here and drive a boat. Seems highly reasonable, and yet, this was the first of them that hasn't sent a contracting mechanic to do the inspection itself."

"Okay… did he have dark, spiky hair? Trainers on his feet?"

"Yes, why?"

"Did he show you 'credentials' to let you know who he was?"

"Yes, why?"

"And that allowed him to bypass all the paperwork?"

"Yes, of course. Why?"

"Has he brought the boat back yet?"

"No. And again, I ask why?"

"Oh, er, I need to find him, is all," she said, agitated, turning toward the ocean. She saw numerous dots upon the horizon, and wondered if one of them was him. "You don't have a way of contacting individual boats, do you?"

"We have a tracking system for each one, yes," said the man. "But we are not supposed to use the communications device unless it's an emergency."

"Please can you use it now? It's an emergency of sorts."

"Of what sort?" he asked, looking at her sceptically.

"I can't tell you," she whined. "I don't suppose you could just trust me?"

"Querida," he said, with a bit of a weary sigh. "How many times are you going to ask me to break the rules? I need my job. I know it doesn't look like much, but the hours are flexible, and it pays the rent."

"I don't doubt that, it's just…" she felt anger and panic welling up again. She actually jumped up and down and rung her hands a few times. "Look, what if you get that boat back here with that Senior Safety Inspector in it, and he will put in a good word with the higher-ups, and see that you get a rise in your salary."

"I get hourly."

"A rise in your hourly, then," she said, impatiently.

He narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

She opened her mouth to answer, though as yet, she had no idea what would come out of it.

That's when an alert came from somewhere inside the kiosk. "What is that?" she asked.

"One of the boats is coming back in," he said, turning to inspect computer screen. He squinted. "Oh, you're in luck. It's your Safety Inspector."

Her heart began to beat faster, and it was all she could do not to leap into the air and scream. "Thank you!" she cried out.

And the man had the acute sense that he shouldn't have said anything. He could have pretended to get in touch with the boat and call it back in, thus giving the woman what she wanted, perhaps getting his rise, and all without breaking any rules. But alas, the damage was done. He sighed heavily.

At least this would make a good story to tell tonight, at the pub.

Martha ran up the set of stairs to the side of the kiosk, and sprinted down the wooden boardwalk that curved up, and over, a hill, and led down into an inlet where the boats were actually docked. She stood at the outermost railing, scrutinising every boat that she could see in the distance. She zeroed in on two or three speedboats, but did not see the one she sought.

Finally, she saw one coming from the right, heading straight toward the inlet, and as it got close, she could clearly see him – the only driver of any boat in the area, wearing a suit. The way he stood, and the way his hair blew back, was unmistakable. Her heart leapt into her throat.

She turned and saw an attendant in an orange vest guiding him in, and she walked swiftly down to the post where the Doctor would soon be docked.

She got there just in time to see the attendant tie off the boat, and the Doctor crawl out, and shake the man's hand.

The attendant walked away, and the Doctor turned and faced her.

For a split second, she reminded herself that she still didn't really know where the Epidromeas was, and why it had left her. She knew it had murder on its mind, and here she was, basically alone with it, next to the water, mobile phone vulnerably in her hand. One kick could send it tumbling into the water, rendering it useless, and freeing him to do terrible things...

But when he smiled, she knew. This was her Doctor. Those eyes could be no one else's.

They took a few steps forward towards each other, both clearly ready to burst. He grabbed onto her shoulders, and quite seriously asked, "Trauma?"

She smiled, and blushed a bit, taking her eyes from his.

This reaction needed no assent, no words. And in that moment, he knew as well. She threw her arms around his neck, he lifted her up, and they pressed themselves into one another, into a kiss that felt like it had been brewing for ages. It had been less than twelve hours since their tryst, but in that time, they had been through the wringer. It had been ages of drama, uncertainty, fear, and more trauma…

But no longer. Their lips and tongues burned against each other, and their bodies felt stirred, agitated in that swelling, glowy, wonderful way. And yet, there was comfort, certainty, familiarity… each other.

There was each other.

They took their time climbing the hill toward the hotel. When they were on the resort grounds again, and on even land, Martha pulled the Doctor's arm in close, and laid her head on his shoulder for a few moments as they walked.

"So, where is it?" asked Martha.

"Erm," he hesitated, a bit reluctant to admit the truth. Then he sighed. "I'm pretty sure it's dead."

"We killed it?"

"I killed it. It was my plan."

"That's not like you."

He stared off into the distance. "It's a lot more like me than I want to admit," he told her. "It's just… given what I know of the Epidromeas – or rather, what I don't know – I had no idea how to contain it, without a body."

"You could have just let it have me for a while longer," she said. "Turn me in to the Galactic Council, or whatever. Not that I'm judging."

He shook his head. "The Epidromeas would have begun its spiel as soon as we hit the door, and the seed would have been planted in the minds of the Council to reduce the Earth's status… again. They already hang by a thread where that's concerned, and I don't have the energy to go in there and campaign for Sol 3 at level five again. More to the point, I'm not sure I'd have the clout anymore."

"Why not?"

"I destroyed my own planet," he answered quickly. "Doesn't breed trust, Martha. Especially not in the grand matters of planetary relations."

"Right. So... the Galactic Council think we're level-four material?" she asked, a bit disheartened.

"More or less, depending who's in charge," the Doctor answered, absently. Then, "If I'd taken you to them… their extraction methods for non-corporeal entities is… we'll just say, indelicate."

"It would have hurt me?"

"Yeah - a lot. Maybe permanently. I mean, it's not for sure, but… I wasn't going to chance it. And, it might have taken me months to work out how to build a vessel to trap the thing. By then, it could wreak havoc on all of our lives."

"I see."

"I wasn't willing to risk your mind, your sanity, or any part of you. And I wasn't going to allow it to mess with us anymore. The Jones family has seen enough life-and-death alien rubbish to last a lifetime, and I… well…"

"Yes?"

"I wanted you back. I just wanted…" He trailed off again, and watched the lawn beneath his feet.

She chuckled. "Yes?"

"I don't know how to put it," he sighed. "I just wanted… you. With no obstructions. Nothing in the way, no verifying safeguards every time we talk, no insidious trauma, none of that rubbish."

"All right."

"I mean, you and I are embarking on something totally new, here, and…"

"We are?" she said, stopping to face him.

"Aren't we?" he asked, stopping as well. His face registered surprise and concern. "I mean… yesterday and… well, last night, I…"

"I guess I thought maybe it was just, you know, a means to an end."

"It was," he said. "But that's not all it was. Unless you want that to be all it was. I can walk away, if you'd rather."

"You're kidding, right?"

He smirked. "No. But thanks for asking. That actually makes things much clearer."

She smiled, and they held hands tightly now.

They were silent for a few minutes, and they reached the side door of the hotel, where Martha and her family had been coming and going for days. They entered the building, and pressed the button for the lift. As they waited, Martha asked, "So, non-corporeal?"

"Well, not completely," he said. "The Epidromeas has the ability to make its corporeal self irrelevant."

The doors opened. A man in a yellow polo shirt stepped off, and they stepped on, and headed to the basement.

"What? Its body becomes irrelevant? How's that?"

"Well, it doesn't exactly leave its corporeal form, but… well, it's almost like its matter turns to vapour. Or thought. Or a permeating mass of sentient energy. Something like that. It's why they're so insidious. They can infiltrate, invade, et cetera, without giving up their bodies. It's a very clever adaptation."

The lift doors opened upon the basement, and they stepped into the hallway.

"Clever," she agreed. "And terrifying."

He walked ahead of her, moving toward the storage room door. "Terrifying, indeed. And they can reconstitute their bodies at any moment. Case in point…" he said, placing his hand on the doorknob and pushing the door open.

Martha stepped through, and her eyes were drawn to the TARDIS.

Though, hovering just above, and slightly in front of, the blue box, there was what looked like splattered lasagne.

"What the…" she mused, moving nearer.

"Er, Martha, maybe don't look too closely…"

"Oh, my God!" she shouted as she got nearer. Her hands flew to her mouth.

Having heard Martha shriek, Donna stepped out from the TARDIS. She looked up at the mess that seemed to be hovering in mid-air, with distaste. "Yeah. Charming, isn't it? We saw it a few minutes ago… made everyone gag, so we just went back inside to wait for you two."

The Doctor took a deep breath, studied the alien that had crashed into the TARDIS' hard shell, and said to it, with a sigh, "I'm sorry. Seemed like the only way."

"How the hell did you do this?" Martha asked, turning to the Doctor, in disbelief.

He gestured to the TARDIS. "I had Donna and your family gather in the TARDIS, then gave Donna the sonic code for ramping up their time-anomalous energy - the stuff that sticks to us all, as we travel through time. I lured it far away, out to the beach, so that when Donna pressed the button, it would gain momentum before flying into the forcefield at full speed."

"It thought you double-backed," Martha mused, realising, remembering what the boat-rental guy had told her she said, seemingly just before the Epidromeas left her. "It detected a high concentration of time stuff, and…"

"…I reckoned it would have a kneejerk reaction," the Doctor added. "Abandon its host without hesitation, and run to where it felt the energy mounting. And… voilà."

The three of them now fixed their gazes upon the sickening mass of red and white blood, bone, and tendon.

After several moments, Donna asked, "Well, how do we clean it up? I mean, I thought about disarming the hard shell, but thought that would be a right nasty mess… it would, you know, go splat on the floor."

"You're right," he said. "I can't come into the TARDIS until the shell is down, so Donna, will you go inside and find a tarp? Ideally, a plastic one? If it's going to go slpat we're going to need something to catch it, so it doesn't damage the floor… and it's going to fall on your side of the barrier."

"Sure," she said. "But is there any way you could tell your favourite sentient ship to quit changing the floorplan on me, while I'm looking for something?"

"What? She'd never do that to you!"

"Heh!" Donna chuckled, stepping back into the blue box.

I predict that some readers might be disapproving of the Doctor's methods here...

But how do you, indeed, solve a problem like the Epidromeas? Talk about catching a cloud and pinning it down!

Either way, please leave a review with your thoughts!

And stay tuned for the conclusion to this story! :-)