Hi friends! I come to you with yet another offering of Tenth Doctor / Martha Jones sci-fi angst! I just can't seem to let it rest! I keep hoping there's still a small community out there that cares about this pairing as I do... or at least finds it fun to imagine, as I do!
This time, I've returned to probably my favorite TARDIS team: Ten, Martha, and Captain Jack! I began my Doctor Who fanfic work with this trio, and have decided to return to them. I suppose one could say that it's in honor of the Captain's triumphant return to the world of Who for the Holiday special this year... but mostly, he just fit really well in my story, and I absolutely adore these three together!
I personally subscribe to the idea that Jack is incredibly adept at reading people. He's a sensuous, and sensitive, being, and knows exactly how two people feel about each other, just by watching them interact. It's a gift that comes from being intelligent, human, omnisexual, and really old/experienced.
So, get ready for mystery, adventure, sappy shipping, and laughs! To that end, don't let the first paragraph fool you - this beginning isn't serious at all! Hope you enjoy!
ONE
He was the Last of the Time Lords. He was the final specimen of an ancient and legendary race that had governed the laws of time and space, could manipulate the fabric of reality, stare into the vortex and be its masters. He was the scourge of the despots and fiends of the cosmos – anyone who would seek to make war, tear down peace, cause death and heartache, they had to get past him first. And that could be a Herculean task because there was no-one more determined, fiercer, or cleverer in the whole of the universe.
And on top of all that, he looked damn good in a suit. This was a fact he had nearly forgotten in the din of the past year.
As he had chosen this current destination, the lovely planet of Rahavol, and brought them here on the peaking waves of the vortex of time and space, he had stood in the console room of his TARDIS, adjusted a few controls, and tried to look formidable.
Mostly, he had been just trying not to smile.
Because he was also quite persuasive. This was a fact which he knew was not unrelated to being clever and well-dressed.
He had convinced two people, two of the smartest, boldest, stubbornest, most capable humans he had ever known, to go against their strongest impulse.
A man who had died a thousand times over the past three-hundred-sixty-five days, who had been almost literally to hell and back, and was anxious to get home, see to the safety of his friends and colleagues, give them hugs, settle in for a long exhale…
And a woman who had walked across the planet and saved it in that same three-hundred-sixty-five-day period, and who was determined, frankly, to get away from him...
He had got them both to stand down, sigh, and say, "Okay."
So, they were staying. At least for the next two weeks. He was hoping to use that time to turn on the charm and quite insidiously talk them into remaining with him for the long-haul. Hopefully without their ever realising he was doing it. But first things first. He had promised them a cleansing, life-affirming holiday, and he wanted to deliver.
And so, he was delivering. The Doctor now sat on a lounge chair, reading a book on Thaliraxian Physics (which was so much more complicated than standard quantum physics as the rest of the universe knew it), relaxing beside a swimming pool, beneath a sky that faded from dark blue to purple to magenta upon the horizon. Rahavol had non-toxic chemicals in its atmosphere, all with an interesting relationship to its sun, and express bright colours against the dome above.
A shimmering ocean continued as far as the eye could see, but that was down the hill a bit. The Doctor much preferred pools to seas, and anyway, the sea here was exceptionally oily, and few beings in the universe had the training necessary to swim in it.
Truth be told, he had lost the thread of what he had been reading twenty minutes ago, and was now staring at a blank page, thinking about his companions, the next fortnight, and how chuffing glad he was that he didn't have to say goodbye to them just yet.
If nothing else, that niggling knowledge of Martha's true feelings was now a full-blown revelation, and he was glad not to have her leave after having confessed something like that. He couldn't have her being on her own now… it just wouldn't be wise. He couldn't be a good friend to her, and allow her to walk away in that state of mind.
And so, here they were, at the luxurious Parafron Resort, where all manner of pampering could be had. He was enjoying it in the form of a good poolside lolling with a good book, and a sweet white foamy cocktail by his side.
Martha and Jack were off enjoying it in some other way. They would meet up for dinner.
The Doctor had stood at the controls, frowning, looking every bit the tortured hero who had had no choice but to cremate his one-time friend, turned enemy. He seemed to demand obedience from the switches and toggles before him. And when he had shoved the joystick into place with flourish and the TARDIS' gears had begun to grind, pulling them all into the universe, into infinite possibilities, he had drilled his companions with a look in his eye that seemed to ask, "Aren't you glad I'm on your side?"
But Captain Jack Harkness and Martha Jones had not been fooled.
They knew him well, and could both quite clearly see the suppressed smile, the delight at the corner of his mouth, and the joy in his flourish. They knew full well that they had been manipulated by him again (they had allowed it), and that just now, he was incredibly proud of himself. They also knew that he was happy. Simply happy. He needed them – they all needed each other after the trauma they had faced. He wanted to be close to them, and to continue their adventures, perhaps in more rollicking, entertaining circumstances. They knew that the sexy, scowling, lone-wolf routine was just that: a routine.
Well, the lone-wolf bit was a routine. The sexy bit was just who he was.
When he had looked away, Martha and Jack caught each other's eye and smiled, knowing they had both made the right decision, for now.
And now, here they were, waiting for a massage, which promised to be heavenly, followed by dinner with the Last of the Time Lords. Tomorrow, perhaps boating – all three of them.
The two of them sat in a waiting room, both dressed in a soft, fluffy light purple robe. The entire resort was circular – it didn't seem to have any angles at all, so, to their right was a wall that curved around away from them, with and a half-moon desk built into it. At the desk sat a black-haired receptionist who looked like she had been made in a factory – high cheek bones, heart-shaped lips, purple makeup so expertly applied, it could have been done with an airbrush machine. Like all of the resort's staff, she was wearing a white suit, and a beatific, bemused smile.
There were potted plants at intervals, each with two large, almost circular leaves emerging from what looked like wooden mulch. The chairs were white, and canister-like, avoiding all straight lines.
The décor, it was obvious, aimed for relaxing, and minimalist. However, across the room, there was a back-lit poster that took up about a third of the wall. It was anything but minimalist, and impossible to miss. It featured a bluish-green swirl, mixing with white. It could have been a bird's-eye-view of a hurricane, or it could have been agitated oil and water. It was abstract, but pleasing to the eye with its cool colours and somewhat mesmerising quality.
"Look at that," Jack said.
"What?"
"That," he repeated indicating the poster.
"What about it?" Martha asked.
"I've seen it like twenty times since we got here," he said. "It's all over the resort."
"I hadn't noticed," she confessed. She thought about telling him that her mind had been on other things ever since being talked into remaining a member of the TARDIS crew for a while longer, but she reckoned that would open up a can of worms she wasn't ready to eat. Jack was practically psychic when it came to interpersonal relations (especially when there was sexual tension involved), so she decided that the less she said, the better.
"The Pleasure Vortex," he said.
"Excuse me?"
"Look!" he said, a bit exasperated, pointing to the text at the bottom of the sign.
Martha saw quite clearly the words, "The Pleasure Vortex," in large letters, followed by contact information.
"Oh," she said. "What do you suppose it is?"
"I don't know, but me being me, can you imagine a world in which I don't try to find out?" Captain Jack asked her, with a wry smile.
"Something with the word 'pleasure' in it," she chuckled. "It's got to be your cup of tea, all right."
"Martha? Jack? We are ready for you now," said another beatific-looking woman, this one blonde, with a plasticky pony tail, and blue eye makeup. She led them down a hallway, and as they walked, asked, "Would you prefer to be in separate rooms, or together?"
"Erm, we don't know… not sure," Martha and Jack answered, in variations, rather awkwardly.
The woman stopped and turned to them. She smiled in an incredibly fake manner, then said, "Well, if it helps, couples usually go in together."
"We are not a couple," Martha insisted.
"Hey! You said that a little too quickly!" Jack protested. "And vehemently!"
"My apologies," said the woman. "We'll be glad to put you in separate rooms." With that, she turned and began walking again.
"Sorry," Martha whispered, following behind their hostess once more.
"'Sokay," he whispered back, taking up the rear.
In less than a minute, the woman stopped between two doors – one on either side of the hallway. She gestured to her right, "Jack, you'll be in here, with Narotho. Please remove your clothing, and lie face down."
"Music to my ears," Jack said with another wry smile.
"Martha, you're on my left, with Selessa – same instructions. Please enjoy your experience today!"
With that, the tightly-wound woman went away with a tightly-wound walk, and Martha and Jack looked at each other.
"Well, see you on the other side," Jack said.
"Yeah. No groping. I mean it."
"Give me a little credit!"
"Jack!"
"Fine. Have good clean fun over on your side, then."
Martha stepped into the room, which had been heated pleasantly, and its humidity adjusted just right. She disrobed, and did as asked – she lay face-down on the table, pulling a purple towel across her bum modestly. She now waited, once again, for a masseuse named Selessa.
As she put her face into the ring meant to cradle her head, she saw that a poster for The Pleasure Vortex had been installed into the floor, so that the unsuspecting massage client could be forced to look at it, bask in it, wonder about it, for the duration of their…
"Hello," a voice said, startling Martha. To her surprise, it was not a masseuse who had come in the door, but rather, the poster on the floor had come to life, and was now a screen. A wide-eyed woman who seemed to be in a trance had appeared on the screen, and had said hello. "Well, here you are, about to experience the best massage in the universe, by some of the best-trained massage artists in the universe. Prepare for relaxation beyond your wildest dreams!
"But what if there were something more?" the woman on the screen continued. "What if you could have pleasure equal to a hundred wedding days, a hundred matches won by your team! What if you could have a sensation equal to a thousand massages, a thousand orgasms? A hundred thousand excellent meals, a hundred thousand creamy desserts? Would you take an opportunity like that?"
"No," Martha answered her, though she reckoned – or at least hoped - she couldn't be heard.
"Of course you would," said the screen woman. "And that's why we've created The Pleasure Vortex. Hi, I'm Candenna Raidaken, co-counder of The Pleasure Vortex, and its chief operating executive. And I'm offering you a drug-free, addiction-proof joyride, for the reasonable price of twenty-five-hundred credits. Come and see for yourself! Plug in, and slide into bliss. Blow your own mind! Let yourself have this indulgence – after all, why come to a resort like Parafron if you're going to hold back on pleasure?"
The video now showed a man crawling into a pod-like recliner, being attended to by beautiful women who plugged him in, so to speak, with wires and fittings attached to his head, and then his face melted into a kind of hard-to-watch ecstasy.
"We are located in the southwest sector of the Parafron Spa – ask any of the staff to personally escort you. The Pleasure Vortex… try it. Because pleasure is not just for reality anymore!"
"Martha?" said an in-person voice, presumably coming through the door.
"Yes," Martha answered.
"Are you comfortable?"
"I am, yes, thanks."
"I'm Selessa, I'll be your massage artist today."
"Hi," said Martha, awkwardly.
Selessa rubbed some substance into her hands, as she asked again, "Are you certain you're quite comfortable?"
"I'm sure."
"We can adjust the table to the contours of your body, if you'd like. If you'd like more room for your breasts…"
Martha chuckled. "That's not something I've ever really needed, but thank you."
"Very well," Selessa said, with her soothing, singsong voice. Though, the voice had another quality which Martha could not quite put her finger on. "We also have a vibration feature in the table."
Martha chuckled again. "Interesting, but again, no."
"All right. Would you like an hallucinogenic to enhance the experience?"
"Are you serious?"
"Quite."
"Erm, no. Thanks."
"Would you like me to induce orgasm, so as to release more tension?"
Martha laughed, thinking of Jack saying yes to all of the offers. "No. Again, thanks."
"Are you certain? I have instruments, or I can induce by hand…"
"I just want the massage, is that possible?" Martha asked, pulling her head slightly up from the soft ring.
"Yes, of course," said Selessa, curtly.
"I don't mean to offend."
"Think nothing of it. We want to give you want you want. After all, why come to a resort like Parafron if you're going to hold back on pleasure?"
These were the exact words from the advert for the Pleasure Vortex. And, it was a legitimate question, but it still gave her the creeps.
"I can't answer that question. I'm just not interested," said Martha.
"Shall we begin, then?"
Selessa moved to stand at Martha's head, directly on top of the screen on the floor, which was now still, and identical to the poster in the lobby. She placed her fingertips between Martha's shoulder blades on either side of her spine, and began to knead the muscle. "How's the pressure?"
"Lovely, thank you."
"I don't suppose you'd care for a warming lotion for your neck muscles, lower back, and feet?"
"Now that sounds nice."
"Of course, Martha. Anything we can do to enhance this for you."
And to Martha's surprise, Selessa then began talking in her soothing voice which, more and more, seemed to fill the room and develop a shimmering, gossamer quality. She talked about relaxation, meditative consciousness, letting go of anxiety, being aware of feelings, and then breathing them out. She used Martha's name over and over again, and Martha could see how this would be a semi-erotic experience for some.
As for the massage itself – it was superb. As a student of human anatomy, she marvelled at Selessa's intimate knowledge of human musculature. She seemed to be able to assess the amount of pressure needed and wanted from the subject's breathing, from tiny reactions to muscles in the vicinity, and of course, from involuntary sounds made by the subject.
Some kind of hot liniment oil seeped into the pores at her shoulders and neck, lower back, and on the bottoms of her feet, as promised, and seemed to infuse her with a certain energy.
The experience was full-sensory, and it was strangely divine.
"Martha? How are you doing?"
"Wonderfully."
"On the relaxation scale of one to ten, ten being the most relaxed you've ever been…"
"Eleven," said Martha.
"Excellent, Martha," sighed Selessa, taking her hands off her subject, who was now lying face-up. "Would you care for a cocktail?"
"That would be dangerous," Martha slurred, both as a person who could not afford to be any more legless, and as a medic.
"Martha, you have been wonderful."
"Thank you."
"You have beautiful, pliant skin."
"Thank you."
"It's been a pleasure laying hands on you, Martha."
"Thank you." Vaguely, she was aware that this was a slightly inappropriate thing to say, but she was too relaxed to say anything.
"May I help you sit up?"
"All right."
Selessa took Martha's hands and assisted her into a seated position. "There you are."
Martha was woozy from the heat suffusing her skin, and the fantastic manipulation of her muscles. But she did get a good, solid look at Selessa for the first time.
She had long, perfect ringlets of cornsilk-blonde hair, with blue eyes that, at first, Martha assessed as "blank." But upon further semi-intoxicated gazing, she decided they were a bit robotic, actually. Huge, clear, perfect, and fixated on her. Her lips were thin, but painted bright shiny pink, and her skin showed no sign of age, blemish, or even of having pores.
Martha now wondered if Selessa was a cyborg. This made her wonder if any of the so-called "people" she had met here were actually alive.
"May I help you back into your robe?" asked Selessa.
"No, that's all right."
"May I brush your hair, Martha?"
"Brush my…? No. Thanks."
"I want to be entirely focused on you, Martha, until the time comes for us to part ways. Tell me what I can do."
Selessa was wide-eyed, gaze totally trained on Martha, who then pulled the towel up over her chest. "You can leave, and let me put on my robe. Then wait outside with some water, while I try not to stumble out the door. And you can stop offering to do things for me – it's weird."
"As you wish, Martha," said Selessa.
Martha almost said, as she walked out the door, "And stop saying my name so much," but thought better of it. She was just glad to be left alone for a few minutes.
Well, whaddya think so far? A bit of feedback would be wonderful right about now! Don't forget to leave a review, and, as always, thank you for reading!