The Doctor discovered a "sentient" magnetic field that might be manipulated into interfering with Curtis' connection with the Ifasma Galaxy, and therefore his ability to create reality. But it might also interfere with his autism, which Tim, no matter how smitten he is with Martha, cannot abide.
So what's next? Time's running short!
Well, we will find out soon enough. But first, we're going to take a bit of a B-road to remind ourselves at this point that the Doctor and Martha are still dealing with some fairly intense personal issues, over and above the "case" they're working on. There is still a ship moving full steam ahead! :-)
Enjoy!
SEVEN
It was Wednesday afternoon, and the Doctor and Martha had just informed Tim Malmay that they may have found a way to undo Curtis' influence on reality, but it might also "undo" Curtis as they knew him. It might mean that some symptoms of his autism dissipate. For all they knew, it might make the symptoms more pronounced. Or it might augment some, and abate others… they just weren't sure. Either way, there was a good chance that Curtis' wonderfully quirky self would… change.
Frustration and fear bubbled to the surface of Tim's very being, and he knew as soon as the first words were out of his mouth that he would regret both the content and tone of this last, but he couldn't stop himself. Despair got the better of him.
"If you can't figure out a way to fix this without ruining our lives, then what the hell is the point of you?"
"Tim…" the Doctor tried.
"Curtis has a beautiful mind, and it is not on offer for manipulation! Now, get Daniel Edge off our backs without tearing that down, or else don't do anything at all! We'll take care of it ourselves!"
When he cut off the call, he was trembling, regretting, and wondering what would happen if the Doctor (and Martha) did, indeed, decide to let them deal with it.
Neither the Doctor nor Martha was particularly surprised at Tim's reaction to the news. They knew how Tim felt about his brother, and how the two of them generally felt about his brother's autism. When all of this reality-manipulating business had come to light, both of them had been extremely reluctant to medicate Curtis, even for the good of (potentially) humanity. They'd agreed to treat the link to the Ifasma with foods, but stopped short of pharmaceuticals.
"Well, I guess that went as well as could have been expected," the Doctor sighed, closing the phone.
"How did it end?"
"He threatened to try to take care of it himself, if we couldn't get rid of Edge without ruining Curtis."
"Oh. Well, that's daft – that could get him killed."
"Yes, it could. So… what's next?"
"Is there a way to find out what, if any, damage the Axiothe would do to Curtis?" Martha asked.
"I suppose we'd better try," the Doctor sighed. "I mean, we should probably leave the man's brain chemistry intact if at all possible."
"Can we do that without involving the man himself?"
The Doctor shrugged. "Your guess, at this stage, is as good as mine."
They were still parked within the Ifasma Galaxy, on the inside of the Axiothe Field, so they were in a good position to take a few more readings from the field itself. However, they were only able to study its actual magnetic properties, and the strength of it, as it was still keeping its mind-probing qualities secret from them.
It was dreadfully dull, but necessary work. Martha had to reassure herself (actually, frequently) that her original time with the Doctor was characterised by two things: adventure, and unrequited love, both of which were seen through the goggles of idealisation.
When she thought about those times, she remembered the "highlights" of their voyages – the instances when they were saving planets, running for their lives, doing spectacular things all over the universe. However, when they were stymied, or required more time to solve a problem, to find out more, to move forward methodically, that stuff had been somewhat obscured from her memory. Things like spending three weeks in the TARDIS, researching the Tenzing Lizard hatching in Shepherd's Bush, finding out precisely what would maim, but not kill the Mother Beast and how to get it back to its home dimension… ugh, that had been a tedious twenty days, better forgotten.
Even the frustrating state of affairs concerning her relationship with the Doctor back in those days, was now tinted romantic. She knew that the whole business had been absolutely gut-wrenching, and that she would scarcely wish it on anyone, and wouldn't relive it for all the money in the universe. But at times, she saw herself angsting rather beautifully over it, over him, as though she'd spent the time tearing at her cassock and enacting a Greek tragedy. She now could picture her incomplete love as a perfect piece of poignant misery, exquisite evidence of her brokenness. It was fodder for weeping in the rain, writing amazing poetry, and thinking of herself as "tortured" and mysterious.
But that's not necessarily how she'd been feeling a month ago. A month ago, none of it had been mythic nor romantic – it had simply been a very, very rough patch of her life, which she had got over, but just barely. How much had her perception of their first voyages together morphed, since coming back onboard, after the Malmay debacle four weeks ago? She guessed, quite a lot. Why?
Because though it had been all but forgotten in the wake of the Daniel Edge crisis, she and the Doctor had been just there, when the situation had exploded in Leeds (again). They had been on the edge of something happening. The best kind of something. A hard-earned something. A certain(ish) something.
And as she sat in the console room feeling largely helpless, not able to assist the Doctor, not able to read the measurements the TARDIS was taking, nor to coax the process along in any way, she did think about how this period of her life would be remembered. She desperately hoped that she would not look back on herself today and think God, what a fool, but when she really examined what she thought might someday be the pervasive sentiment, she just couldn't come up with anything. She simply didn't know, with the way things stood at this moment.
But she did realise something. Since the first time out with the Doctor, she had grown. She had grown experientially, which had caused her perspective to grow, in general. She had matured as a person, as a doctor, and as a companion to The Most Amazing Man Full-Stop. And this growth caused her to realise yet another truth: she herself had quite a bit of say in how "this period" of her life went. That was something she hadn't realised when she was a med student in a blue box with a Time Lord – she had agency. He was not the only person driving the action in the saga of their lives.
And now, she had the confidence and the wherewithal to do something. All she had to do was bring it up again…
"Doctor?" she said, rather softly as he stared into the screen with a scowl.
"Yeah?" he asked, absently.
"I'm sorry we got derailed," she said. She swallowed hard. She knew that she wouldn't be able to recapture the moment until Daniel Edge was dealt with, and Stephanie Havilland was safe, but she didn't really mean to. This was a simple reminder to him that they meant something to each other – more than just companions or travelling partners now, more than just two people who did research together.
And it was an assertion to herself that she would not allow things to return to the status quo.
"Derailed," he said, still far away. "How?"
"Derailed from the trajectory you and I have been on for the past month," she said. "A couple of days ago, you were still telling me stories. We were talking about your dreams. We were drinking wine. All those stories were gelling in my mind and…"
He now looked at her. "I see," he said, with a sigh. "Yeah, I'm sorry too. But this is what we do. It's who we are. Isn't it?"
"Getting sidetracked from our lives by weird stuff happening in the universe? Of course. But I'm still sorry."
"Well, it's not forever," he said, crossing the space toward her, where she sat on the lone stool. He took her hands. It was the first bit of tenderness they'd shown each other since they'd been interrupted by the TARDIS' forced materialisation in the Malmays' front room. "We can get back to it… back to each other in a little while. Just need to get Curtis sorted out first."
She nodded, and stared at the floor for a few moments. Then, she asked, "The other day, Doctor, when you said that your lifestyle makes it hard to fall in love, and stay in a relationship, were you thinking in general terms, or were you thinking of… you know, the current situation?"
"Erm…" he said, staring off into the distance. "I'm not sure."
All at once, he was reminded of what relationships were like. It was easy to think of them (even remember them) as all romance… talking about dreams, musing over the past, lazing on the sofa, enjoying life together, making love, making memories, et cetera. Even unpleasant things like having rows, discovering betrayals, packing one's things and leaving.
But so much of relationships, in general, was like this: promises for later, getting derailed, and being asked difficult questions.
She said, "Because you've got your commitment to the universe, so that makes things hard... it could make falling in love rather pointless. I think... I mean, I don't want to put words in your mouth, but I think you've learned that the hard way? Perhaps more than once?"
"Yeah," he said, very softly.
"But if you'll let me, I'll commit to it alongside you. And in that case, it wouldn't be as hard as it's been in the past. It wouldn't be pointless... would it?"
"I suppose not," he conceded. "But there are always factors we haven't thought of. Our lives are unstable…"
"Love is fluid," she said. "Adaptable. And if you do it right, it absorbs shock."
"Love… is fluid," he repeated.
And it occurred to her then that in all of the excitement of the past month, that word had not been uttered. At least not in the context of the two of them.
Determined not to return to the status quo, Martha gulped hard, and said, "Yes. It is. I know, because I love you."
"Martha," he breathed.
He already knew it. It was just a surprise to hear her say the words directly to him, so clearly.
It burned like a hand on a hot stove… he had to pull away from the emotion of it, or it would hurt too much to touch.
"I've loved you since I met you, and the colour of that love has changed. The shape of it, and the texture. And it will continue to change, and bend and…"
"Wow," he mused, looking at her with shock.
"…and grow."
He didn't say anything for a long few moments, but Martha could see that he was thinking about what she had said. He was forcing himself to play the words over and over in his mind. He was acclimating to the brightness, the searing heat and brilliance of the revelation…
It made him want to run screaming. It also made him want to fall to his knees, wrap his arms around her waist and weep.
Martha was resisting the urge to beg him to say something.
At last, he said, "If my life is unstable, then yours will be, too."
"Yes."
"If I'm imprisoned in a Tronsangian cell for trying to thwart the Tronsang Emperor's attempted takeover of the neighbouring planet of Hyvee, then you'll work to rescue me."
"Yes."
"If I have to hole up with the Facced People in order to reprogramme their agricultural regulation systems, which would take about three months, and women are not allowed in the agricultural centre…"
"I'll wait for you somewhere else.
"If I have to trek across a planet with a gang of rebels to plant the seeds of discord, and that's the only way to save them, and I can't take you with me…"
"I'll wait in a birdcage on a huge spaceship with a despotic Time Lord, and wait for you to return."
"What?"
She smiled. "That scenario didn't sound familiar?"
He smiled back. "Oh. Yeah. Martha, I'm just thinking of all the weird things that happen to me – to us – that make it hard to concentrate on love. And if I'm in love, it makes it hard not to concentrate on that, which can be dangerous."
"Haven't you ever thought of love as a weapon? As something you can use when you're trying to concentrate on something else?"
"As it happens, yes," he answered. He took both of her cheeks and jaws in his hands gently, and said, "Martha, I'm in, okay? I was all in a month ago. After you walked away from me, things changed... in my head, and in my hearts. But you already know all that. The bottom line is, I want you in my very complicated life, and I want to be part of your very complicated life, and I'm not looking for a first mate for my ship. To be honest, I'm not looking for anything – it's not about searching. It's about you."
"Okay," she said, with a sheepish smile, as he let go of her. "I'm sorry I made things… weird."
"Well, relationships are weird. So, obviously, I'm not saying no. I'll never say no to you again."
"Oh!"
"So I'm not using any of those scenarios as reasons why we shouldn't be together."
"Okay. Thank you – I'm glad to hear that. I guess I knew that… I just got paranoid for a moment."
"But you asked me a question, and I really think it's worth answering, so I was thinking aloud."
"I should have just let you talk," she realised.
"You asked if I really meant what I said, that living my life can make it hard to fall in love, and stay in a relationship… even with you, who lives this life with me. And I'd have to say… yes, I meant what I said."
She nodded. "Thank you for being honest."
"But I also meant it yesterday when I said love is worth the try," he said. "And I meant it when I said that I'm sorry we got derailed."
"Good. This is all very good," she commented, unsure of what else to say.
"But I've…"
At that moment, as though the word derailed had gone out into the universe like a beacon, attracting more of itself, Martha's phone rang in her pocket.
"Are you kidding me?" she hissed, pulling the phone out.
The Doctor chuckled. "Exhibit A for why romance in the TARDIS can be hard to sustain."
She looked at the display on her phone. "Curtis. We should've known not to try to do this while we're still working with the Malmays."
"Those two guys. It's like they know when you're getting close to me, and…" the Doctor mused, with a frown.
"Hello?" she said into the phone.
"Martha. It's Curtis," said the voice on the other end. "Curtis Malmay, of Leeds. Tim's brother. I'm the bloke who can draw…"
"Yes, hi, Curtis," she said with a chuckle. "I know who you are."
"Sorry. I don't know if you know lots of guys named Curtis, or…"
"It's all right. What's up?"
"Tim told me what you found," said the man.
"All right. And, what are your thoughts?"
"Erm… can I see you? Both of you?" asked Curtis. "There's some stuff I want to say, and I don't want to say it over the phone. I don't do well over the phone."
"We will get there as soon as we can, okay?" she asked, not ready to commit, as she was not yet sure whether the Axiothe would allow them to dematerialise.
"Okay, I'll wait here," Curtis said, with some finality. Then, he added, "Oh, I'm not at home."
"All right, where are you?"
"I'm at a chip shop round the corner from our estate."
"On your own?"
"Yeah. I left because Tim was being a prat."
"Okay. What's the name of the place?"
"Chipwrecked," he said. "Stupid name."
"Just stay there – we'll see you soon."
Martha relayed the applicable information on to the Doctor, who responded with wide eyes, and enthusiasm (the way he responds to most things).
Languishing with no reviews! If you're reading, please play fair and let me know. Thanks for reading!
