Please don't hate me for this chapter. :-D Just trying to make things exciting!

THINGS FALLING

Martha Jones and the Doctor began their relationship by happenstance, in a hospital that went to the moon. Later that night, he "rescued" her from a family gathering that was going spectacularly badly, and took her on the open road for about a year. Together, they put out fires all over the universe, got captured, nearly killed in myriad ways, all the while remaining fierce friends, and (technically) nothing more. Desire and possibilities always seemed to be percolating beneath the surface, but the Doctor's fresh, raw, broken heart and resultant commitment-phobia put a wrench in things. Ultimately, Martha was forced to say, "I love you, goodbye."

But six months later, after Donna Noble came into the Doctor's life, circumstances threw the three of them into an adventure which forced to light an irritating truth: he was not happy without Martha.

And so, Martha and the Doctor began their romantic relationship on Mallorca, while trying to flush out a body-hopping alien. They'd used the TARDIS' energy reserves to defeat the alien in such a way that required a several-week convalescent period for the vessel, and allowed a nice chunk of time for the new lovers to hide away on a Mediterranean isle, and discover one another. During this time, now that the fire walls were down, they burned through each night like cinders through parchment, unable to be together without combusting, and rarely spending any time apart. It was an idyll, she knew, the blazing-hot beginning of something that would, in due course, cool off and become more livable. But that eventuality was, they both hoped, a long while off, and their little honeymoon extended for a week or so into life "at home," in London, when the Mallorcan adventure came to a close.

And then, the reality of living with the Doctor reared its head, and the three of them (four, counting Colin) were tossed unceremoniously into a battle to prevent the imprisonment of the human race. This resulted in over three weeks weeks of Donna needing intense medical attention, so they'd been by her side either round-the-clock or on a constantly-on-call basis. Inevitably, everyone's sex life had to simmer and wait. The Doctor and Martha had a few good moments, but mostly, the period was punctuated by exhaustion. During the weeks when Donna was up and about, but still not clear for heart-pumping activities, they'd tried to indulge, but wound up feeling too guilty to proceed.

And that's what made tonight so very lovely for them.

"Our friends are off on their holiday, they're safe, they're happy," the Doctor had said. "We have peace of mind, and the whole of the TARDIS to ourselves."

They walked through the bedroom door, and Martha fully expected to stop at the bed. But they bypassed it, and walked round to a door, hidden behind a little alcove in the corner.

"Ever wonder where this leads?" he asked her, placing his hand on the doorknob.

His bedroom was now their bedroom, but because of the chaos preceding this night, they hadn't done much there except for sleep. The room was huge, and Martha had, of course, noticed the walls lined with bookshelves, the wardrobe, the staircase and loft, and the sunken "living room" area. But as for the room's finer points, she hadn't had occasion to think about them.

"No," she chuckled. "I never even knew it was here."

"Good," he said. "I haven't used it in years – centuries, really – and I've been saving it for… well, someone like you. And for a time when there wouldn't be any interruption."

"What is it?"

He smirked, but did not answer. Instead, he said, "I think you're a bit overdressed."

"Oh, you do, do you?" she asked.

"I do," he said, closing the space between them.

He snaked his hand inside the collar of the short black cardigan she was wearing. He peeled it back to reveal one perfect, sinewy brown shoulder, banded by a pink spaghetti strap. He hooked one finger through the strap and pulled it sideways, out of the way for his lips. He kissed and nipped his way across her skin, and a frisson ran down her whole body, from where his mouth touched her, swelling swiftly throughout, all the way to her toes. He reached the place where shoulder becomes arm, and began to move back the way he had come, planting kisses all the way across her shoulder, and then up her neck. When his tongue raked across her jugular, she moaned, and felt herself melt a bit. He took the opportunity then to work his other hand under the other side of her cardigan, and push it over her arms, and off.

From there, he got to his knees and tugged at her waistband gently, until the snap of her jeans came loose. He worked the zip down, then let his hands dive in between the denim and her skin, savouring the delicious curve of her hips and bum, as he pressed down on the garment, moving it toward her knees. She held onto his shoulder, and stepped out of her wedgie sandals, then allowed him to help her step out of her jeans. He left them there on the floor, then sat back on his heels and looked her over. She was now wearing a form-fitting pink camisole, and a pair of lacy white knickers. The tableau gave him a big surge of desire, and he couldn't help but give an audible, sensual sigh.

"Mmm," he said. "Much better."

"What about you?" she asked.

She watched him manoeuvre one foot forward and untie and discard one white Converse trainer and sock, then the other. Then he stood up and climbed out of his suit jacket. Martha loosened his tie, then added it to the growing pile of clothing on the floor. Next, she untucked and unbuttoned his white dress shirt, making sure to give each revealed inch a maddening lick. She heard, and felt, his breath hitch with each touch of her tongue, especially as she bent at the waist and went lower and lower.

But then, she stopped and helped him peel off the shirt, and he took her hand. They kicked through the laundry now heaped at their feet, and the Doctor opened the door.

They stepped, barefooted, onto what felt like heated rock. The temperature around them climbed to something pleasantly, leisurely warm, and they appeared to be in a cave. All around them, including now behind them (as the door seemed to disappear as soon as he closed it) was black stone. The light came from something like sun, pouring through a waterfall, which they stood behind.

"What is this?" she asked with wonder.

"Come on," he said, leading her by the hand to the right. They went into a dark (but not too dark) portion of the cave, and down what seemed to be perfect spiral stairs formed naturally. They came out into sunlight, onto a rock platform, that overlooked a lagoon. For maybe a couple of miles square, all around, there was shiny blue water bordered by black cliffs and evergreen trees. Down to the left, Martha could see a little pebble beach area, complete with a table and chairs, a towel rack, a small kitchen, a dock and a raft… and a wide, red lounging cushion for two.

"This is amazing," she breathed.

"Thanks," he said. "It's modelled after a favourite enclave of mine, in the Canadian Rockies. Only without the chill in the air."

She assumed the little shore was their destination, and the only way to travel was forward, across a wooden foot-bridge, half under the waterfall, and half not. She was irresistibly drawn forth into the gushing water, and soon found herself drenched from head-to-toe. The temperature was perfect, the opportunity was golden – she shook out her hair, and laughed, as she had always wanted to do this.

The Doctor watched her, and for him, the effect was dizzying. Martha was already an intoxicating creature. Her body already seemed to him to have been moulded from smooth liquid bronze that undulated torturously, even when she was still. She was already not wearing much, and now, what she was wearing clung to her flesh like a second, transparent skin, and every inch of her was being pounded, then caressed, by water. He'd been with her in the shower, of course, and swimming in the Mediterranean, but this was different. This water was rough and insistent, and made him feel a bit the same way.

He too was now irresistibly drawn into the cascade, but for a completely different reason.

Her back was to him when he reached her, so he reached out and possessively took her by the waist, the feel of the thin, soaked fabric flush against the shape of her, it was a revelation. A blinding, desire-piquing revelation.

He found his hands powerfully compelled upwards, and when they closed over her breasts, he thought he might faint. The sensation was overwhelming… especially because she leaned back against him and moaned then, pressing her backside into an impatient bulge in his trousers.

When she felt it, she pressed harder, and he saw her smile. But then, she couldn't help but turn around and face him. And he couldn't help but devour her mouth with his own, plunging his tongue in, knocking her a bit off balance and forcing her up against the railing. Pressing against her with deep, lusty groan, he now sucked at her neck once again.

Her mouth was quite near his ear. "How long will it take to get down to that beach?" she asked, thinking of the large, inviting cushion for two, clearly not set up just for lounging.

"I'll never make it that far," he told her.

But before she could answer with her own idea that they make an excellent memory or two right there on the bridge, something maddening (and terrifying) happened.

A huge jolt of some sort knocked them off their feet.

"What the hell?" Martha shrieked, picking herself up to a sitting position. "Was that an earthquake?"

"No, we're still in space," the Doctor said, getting up on his knees, looking about. She now realised what he'd realised: the light from the "sun" in this replica Canadian hideaway was waffling. Fading a bit to dark, then coming back, fading, and returning. It was as though the TARDIS' energies were being placed elsewhere…

Another jostle overtook them, though, this time, they were already low, so they both grabbed onto the railing on the dry side of the bridge.

The waterfall quit gushing at that point, which caused the whole, huge, artificial corner of paradise, to fall eerily silent. The temperature also dropped significantly and it was obvious, the TARDIS was either slowly losing its faculties, or diverting resources.

That was when the gravity-boosters failed, and the TARDIS began to crash. They could feel it falling – the dizzying, stomach-turning sensation of being pulled, out-of-control, toward something. Down, down, at an unfathomable speed… They both held on to the bridge, and couldn't help but scream. The Cloister Bell rang insistently as the vessel headed for disaster, and all any of the sentient life aboard could do was hope against hope that impact would come soon.

And, of course, it did, sooner rather than later. The noise was deafening, and the shock was unbelievable – later on, Martha thought about it, and felt surprised that they had survived. She hit her head on the railing, hard enough to cause her vision to darken momentarily, and she heard the Doctor give a loud grunt/cry of pain, as well. They were almost tossed into the lagoon below…

But when the commotion stopped, they were still on the bridge, only because they'd both had the presence of mind to grab on with both arms.

"Gravity boosters are working again," the Doctor said, standing up. "Thanks, old girl."

"But for how long?" Martha asked, allowing him to help her to her feet.

"Excellent question," he said. "I reckon we'd better…"

He was interrupted by a wince of pain from Martha. She was standing with her right hand clasped to her chest.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked.

"I feel a… tightening."

"A t…" he began. He also began to step toward her.

But then he collapsed. He fell to his knees, eyes wide with surprise and pain, and he, too, now clutched at his chest.

Something similar seemed to be happening to him, only it seemed to be incapacitating him a lot faster than Martha.

He fell forward, catching himself with one hand, and holding the other to his chest.

"Doctor!" she cried out, forgetting her own incident. "What's going on?"

"I… I…" he started.

"Is it your hearts?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Lie down."

He obliged, and went supine on the bridge, and tried to breathe normally. He closed his eyes, attempting to bring calm.

"Okay, don't worry," she said kneeling at his side. "I've treated a hundred heart attacks, I know exactly what to do, and I'm going to take care of you, all right?" She spoke to him as though she were speaking to someone rushed into A&E.

The Doctor held up two fingers, to remind her that his physiology was not as she was used to.

"I know, Doctor, but I've got to start somewhere," she said, and he nodded. "Except… damn it, no EKG, no meds, no IV… I'm sorry, but will you be okay here while I go get those things?"

He reached out and grabbed her hand. "No, wait."

"Wait?"

"Yes, wait," he managed to say. He held her hand, closed his eyes, and over the next minute or so, his breathing normalized, and the pain, tightness, and panic ebbed. "It's gone."

"It's gone? You're serious?"

"Yeah," he said, sitting up. "I'm fine now."

"Are you sure? That's mental!"

"Yeah, I'm sure. How about you?"

She paused to assess her physical state. "I think I'm fine. I mean, I don't feel the tightening anymore."

He got to his feet more quickly than Martha would have liked, and took her hand. "We've got to get to the console room," he said. "We need to work out where the hell we are."

They climbed back up through the dark rock grotto, and ended up in the little cavern behind where the waterfall had been. The Doctor reached out for one of the cave walls, and only a split second before his hand closed over it, did she see a doorknob. He opened it, ushered her through, and then stepped through himself.

Before he shut the door again, though, they saw all of the light in the Canadian lagoon room go completely out.

"She's shutting down," the Doctor said. "She was keeping that room lit just for us, but now, she has to conserve energy."

"For what?"

"I don't know yet," he said, sombrely.

Fortunately, the lights in the bedroom were still on, and the Doctor moved over toward the wardrobe, and readied to shed his soaking wet trousers and put on a fresh brown suit.

"I reckon the hallways are pitch dark, and freezing now," he said, beginning to change clothes.

She crossed to her dresser and extracted a dry pair of knickers and a bra, and set about changing out of her sopping-wet camisole and lacy underpants. "Well, that's not super-creepy."

"The TARDIS has emergency protocols, just like everything else," he said. "Just like your hospital. Just like your brain."

She opened the top drawer and grabbed the first shirt she saw – a long-sleeved purple v-neck, and pulled it over her head.

"So, first order of business is to work out where we've crashed," she said. "Then what?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I'll know once we've worked out where we've crashed."

She looked about the room for a moment, then crossed back to the door through which they'd come, and picked up her jeans. "Okay, is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, pulling them on.

"Not yet," he said. "Just stay tuned for more info… and instructions, I suppose."

"Okay. I'm your first mate – what else am I here for?" she chirped, stepping back into her wedgie sandals.

"That, you are," he said, looking her over, and choosing a tie randomly from about twenty of them hanging inside the wardrobe door.

She found a hairbrush sitting on the night table on her side of the bed, and she sat down, and tried to untangle the damage done by the waterfall, and the subsequent crash.

By the time she was done, the Doctor was fully dressed.

He stood up and asked, "How about me? How's my hair?"

"It's… wet," she said.

He mussed it with both hands. It now stood up almost everywhere. "Now?"

"Very you."

"Good. Ready?"

Without waiting for her to answer, he grabbed her hand, and headed toward the door to the TARDIS' hallways. He pulled it open, and surely enough, it was dark as far as the eye could see, and quite cold.

The lights in the bedroom went out, and for a few seconds, they stood in pitch-black silence, squeezing each other's hands, until a faint light shone in the hallway.

The two of them turned right, and trod a memorised route toward the console room. All along the way, the TARDIS lit areas just ahead of them, extinguishing lights as they passed, keeping their path visible, just enough so as not to let them run into the wall.

When they reached the console room, the TARDIS gave a sickly groan, and slowly, the time rotor came on. Though, not all the way – it was a weak green glow that allowed them to see the controls, and each other… but just barely.

Martha was now sorely regretting having stepped underneath that waterfall – for a couple of reasons. The current, most immediate reason was that her hair was still wet, and the interior of the TARDIS was uncomfortably frigid.

She went down the ramp, because she could see the hat rack beside the door, and that something was draped over it. She was relieved to find that she was right – it was her red leather jacket. It wasn't the heavy coat she would eventually need, but it would do for now. She put it on and zipped it. On her way back up the ramp, she noticed a heap over one of the coral-style columns that decorated the room – this was where the Doctor always threw his coat, for some reason. She grabbed it, and handed it to him. He thanked her and pulled it on absently, as he tried a few buttons and bobs on the console.

"Isn't she completely powered down now, except for this light?" Martha asked.

"Pretty much," he said, trying one of the cranks. "Nothing's working."

"So… crash-land. Heart attacks – if that's what they were. Totally dormant TARDIS. No idea where we are."

"Yep."

"Okay. So… what now?"

"Wish I knew."

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