Hi all. I feel another disclaimer is necessary here. I had to invent some stuff to further my plot (in a science-fiction story? No way!). So, I must tell you again that I know nothing about getting prescriptions filled abroad (no matter what country you're coming from, or where you are). I also know nothing about how doctors' sabbaticals work in the NHS, and what it means for their credentials. Please be kind.

I'm willing to do some research on medicine itself because it's actually useful, interesting, and I feel it adds integrity to my story if Martha Jones actually knows what she's talking about. I will not, however, do research on bureaucratic b.s. So there. :-)

Though, the medical stuff, I probably get it wrong all over the place!

Anyway, chapter 4. Here comes slightly more information about the heart attack phenomenon, plus a bit of a cliffhanger... :-) Enjoy!

ENCORE

The Doctor only slept about three hours, but it had proved sufficient. He wasn't sure what planet they were on – only that its inhabitants were very likely hostile and violent – so he didn't know how long the night was bound to be. He simply let Martha sleep until the sun came up.

Meanwhile, he used a technique of resonating sonic pulses through metal, to try and determine how much power was left in his sonic screwdriver. Fortunately, he hadn't used it much during Donna's recovery period, and the device was rested, and had had a chance to recharge. It had likely more than a week's worth of use in it. The Doctor fully intended to be able to plug it into the TARDIS console for a new charge, well before a week was up.

Well, it was good to have goals, anyway.

He then tried to use the sonic to diagnose the TARDIS. What went down first? This was the best question the Doctor could think to ask. He was able to scan different functions to get a sort of "time of death" from each one.

When he woke Martha, just after daybreak, he said, "I have good news."

"Yeah? That we've been rescued by intelligent, benevolent beings to whom you owe a favour, and the TARDIS will be up and running again within the hour?"

"Blimey," he muttered. "Rain on a guy's parade, will you?"

She smiled. "Sorry. What's your good news?"

"I worked out which of her functions went down first," he told her, rather expressionlessly.

"Oh. What was it?"

"The central sentience unit," he said. "Her heart."

"So, she had a heart attack just like we did?"

"Yep."

"Who would give a TARDIS a heart attack? That's barbaric."

"Agreed."

"So now she's in a coma?"

"Yes, which is horrible, but it gives us a place to start," he said. "It explains a few things. If her heart failed, then nothing else could run… of course her navigation system failed then, and after that, one by one, everything else. Although it makes things hard, because her heart is hardly mechanical, so I can't just, you know, sonic it to life. And without it, nothing else will respond either."

"Well, how can I help?"

"By being you," he said. "And I mean that literally. The TARDIS's heart is tuned into me, and to you. The more contact with us she can have - me as me, and you as you - the more likely it is that she'll come round."

"Okay. Be me. I can do that."

"And…" he said, rooting around in his pocket. He came up with a hand-held mirror, and thrust it at her. "This."

"This?" she asked, taking it. "You want me to fix my hair?"

"No," he said. He stood up and crossed to the ramp, ducking under the railing, then went to the door. He opened it, letting in a flood of the planet's sunlight. "If I'm going to be spelunking under the floor, it might help if you could hold the mirror just so, so we can get the light where we need it."

"Oh! Okay, I'm willing to try!" she chirped, getting to her feet.

"Also, maybe now that there's sunlight, you could go down the hall and bring back the coffee maker. The TARDIS will give you light."

"Okay. What for?"

"We need coffee," he said. "And I think I can sonic it up to run without electricity for now. And we don't have to listen to Donna complain about it."

Martha spent the next three hours sitting on the floor of the console room, adjusting her wrist so as to shine narrow beams of sunlight down underneath the floor panels, where the Doctor seemed to be working fruitlessly to bring alive the TARDIS' central sentience unit.

He tried to explain to her components, as though the unit were like a real "heart," but the whole thing seemed so abstract to her, as to be meaningless.

"All right," he said, just before they'd said they'd take a break. "This is my last-ditch effort with the heart. If this doesn't work, I'm going to have to completely rethink my thinking. Here's hoping I haven't been going about this all wrong, eh?"

He helped Martha adjust her wrist, so as to shine light directly upon what looked like a cross between a circuit panel and a brain, then tried to finesse it. He stroked it with his fingers, and talked to it, tried to massage it, hoping to give it… well, hope. Then he used the sonic to manipulate it, but there was no response.

"Come on, old girl," he said. "I saw a beat. I saw a little pulse, a throb, a flicker... something! I know you know I'm here."

He tried again with the sonic, and failed.

"Damn it," he spat. "Come on!"

He tried again. No response.

He let out a great, ragged, frustrated cry, then chucked the screwdriver out through the open panel, past Martha, and into the corner of the console room. He screamed out a curse – couldn't stop himself, and then found himself choked.

"Doctor?" Martha asked, throwing the mirror aside.

He bent at the waist, catching himself against his own knees, clutching at the front of his jacket and shirt. He coughed hard, several times, and tried to say her name…

She jumped down into the lower area where he was, and guided him down into a seated, then lying position. She sat beside him, and held his wrist for a few minutes, feeling his pulse subside.

"Well," he said, after catching his breath. "If nothing else, this little phenomenon will be good anger management."

"One thing is reassuring about today's revelations," she commented. "It's not just us doing it to each other."

"Very true."

"I was thinking, like, I'm toxic to you, and you're toxic to me, and how bloody awful that would be, if true. Looks like, well, actually, it's far more serious than that… yet, somehow that's reassuring."

"Agreed."

"Are you okay to get up now?"

"Yes," he said. "Let's have some lunch, yeah?"

They climbed out onto the platform, and Martha went to the corner to rescue the sonic screwdriver, while the Doctor opened up the canvas grocery bag they'd filled the night before, with items for eating.

She approached him as he set out a couple of apples, a can of almonds and a small block of sliced cheese on the console. "You got lucky. It didn't break," she told him, holding out the screwdriver to him.

"Thanks," he said. "I'm sorry I lost my temper and, you know… threw something. Bad form, I know. Not to mention potentially deadly."

"It's all right," she said getting up on her tiptoes for a kiss. "Under normal circumstances, I rather like when you get all fired-up."

He smirked. "Really? How shocking, Dr. Jones."

"Well, without that side of you, we wouldn't have the things that really get my heart-rate up, for better or worse."

"I'm glad you feel that way. Under normal circumstances."

"I have to say, I'm very impatient for normal circumstances to resume," she said. "In fact…"

With that, she coughed, and her hand went instinctively to her chest.

"Seriously?" he asked. "Flirting?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me with this," she said, angrily, then sat down on the leather seat, holding her own wrist.

"Mild, but infuriating," he said, after she'd calmed.

"Yeah. Fury and sexual frustration," she said. "What a great combo for a day like today."

"It'll be okay," he assured her. "I'd love to give you a little shoulder rub, but I'm afraid it would kill us both."

"If I weren't pissed off, I'd laugh," she said, flatly.

They sat against the wall near where they'd slept, and shared some fruit, nuts and cheese, but their lunch was mostly silent. At this stage, they weren't entirely sure what they could do or say…

Martha chuckled bitterly.

"What?" he asked, surprised at the little break in the silence.

"This is like the old days," she said, her voice betraying fatigue.

"What do you mean?"

"When we'd be near each other, side-by-side, sharing an adventure, both having feelings, but having to censor what we say," she explained. "At least… I censored myself, can't speak for you."

"I did, too," he said. "Maybe not as often."

"Back then, all I wanted to do was reach out to you, but couldn't," she said, with a big, sad sigh. "I wanted to talk to you about inflammatory things. I wanted to kiss you. I wanted everything from you… and couldn't have it."

He was silent for a long moment. "Is this how you felt that first year with me? This repressive heart-attack thing?"

She smiled slightly. "Somewhat. Metaphorically, maybe. I couldn't bring up how I was feeling, like, ever. I walked on eggshells, for fear of getting my hopes up, or God forbid, revealing too much of myself."

"I'm sorry," he told her, very quietly.

"I certainly couldn't touch you, or ask you to touch me, reassure me, hold me…"

"So you settled for sitting side-by-side in silence?"

"Again, metaphorically, yes," she sighed.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated.

Another long silence passed.

"I'm terrified, Doctor," she admitted, finally.

"I am too."

"And what I want most right now is comfort. From you. I want nothing more that to fall into your arms and forget all about this rubbish… and I can't. I feel like I can't even let my mind go there."

"I feel that too," he said. "Like I'm in a cage. Like everything about me, inside and out, is in need of restraint. Restraint is nothing I've ever been good at."

"And that's what makes you you," she commented. "You see? Anything familiar, or meaningful, or visceral… anything that would keep us connected has been taken from us."

"Yeah," he whispered.

"I mean, what is it? Is there something in the air that we're allergic to? Is the oxygen contaminated? Is the TARDIS' illness contagious?"

"I'm not sure yet, but we'll suss it out. Maybe as I continue to work with the TARDIS, something will come to light... a pathogen, a pollen... something. Maybe she will find a way to tell us, even whilst comatose."

"She can do that?"

"Stranger things have happened."

"If you say so."

With that, he took a chance and reached out for her hand. For a while, she just laid her head against his shoulder, too depressed to feel anything else.

The Doctor set to work again on the TARDIS. Since her heart was not responsive, he tried a different approach… even if it meant not getting to the root of the problem, and having to work backwards.

"On the bright side," he said. "Kinetic energy is not hard to generate, even if we can't get our heartrates up, and I think that we could get the Settrove Modulator up and running if..."

He was interrupted by a familiar sound.

"Damn it, that's my phone!" Martha said.

"Where is it?"

"On my night table in the bedroom," she said. "I'd forgotten all about it!"

"Well, go answer it," he said. "I've got sunlight coming in through the door now – I'll be fine. If you leave the console room, the TARDIS' light will follow you."

Without a word, Martha took off down the hall toward the bedroom, and the ringing phone. She didn't catch it in time.

According to the display when she picked it up, there was a voice message waiting for her from Donna.

She walked back to the console room, while she listened to the message.

"Martha, what the hell is going on?" the message asked. "I tried ringing the TARDIS and all I could hear was this eerie groaning sound – I mean, I've never heard anything like it. Like a ghost in a cave, or something. And now, I can't get through to you, either. I realise that you're alone with the Doctor now, so the reason for your non-response could be that you're holed up in a sex parlour of some sort and aren't coming out for three more days. I also know that you're alone with the Doctor, so it's also possible that you're not answering your phone because you're running from a giant, murderous Flytrap that's actually on Venus. I reckon it's fifty-fifty. So, I'm fifty per cent panicked. Anyway, if you're all right, please ring me back. Love you guys – hope you're okay."

"Who was it?" the Doctor asked.

"Donna," she answered.

"What's she calling for? Aren't they busy… you know… enjoying Portugal?"

"I dunno," Martha shrugged. "She didn't say… in her message, she's all wound up about how she can't get through to us. Said she tried to call the TARDIS and got an eerie groaning sound."

"What sort of groaning? Like her usual groaning?" he wanted to know, stopping his repairs dead, and looking at her seriously.

"She said she'd never heard anything like it."

"High-pitched or low?"

"I don't know. She said eerie groaning like a ghost in a cave. That's what she said."

"Was there reverb?"

"I don't know, Doctor! I'm not the one who heard it!"

"Well, ring her back, would you? Find out."

"Excuse me? Does the Captain not say please to his First Mate?"

"Please," he muttered, returning to his work.

"Ah yes, much better," she muttered back, irritated, as she hit redial.

"Hello?" Donna's excitable voice said.

Martha put the call on speakerphone. "Hiya," Martha said. "We're alive, no need to panic."

"Thank goodness," Donna practically whined. "I had absolutely no idea what to make of that sound I heard!"

"What was it like, Donna?" the Doctor asked, practically falling across the console to get near enough to Martha's phone.

"Erm, hello to you, too," Colin protested. They hadn't even realised he was on the line with them.

"Hi Colin, hi Donna, nice to hear your voices," the Doctor said quickly. "What was the sound like?"

"What was it like? It was… ghostly. A low-pitched groan," she answered.

"Did you say it was like a ghost in a cave?" he asked.

"Yeah… it seemed to have a sort of echo… thing," she said. "Hard to explain. And it had a pulse."

"A pulse?"

"Yes, like a beat."

"The groan itself was the pulse, or there was an underlying pulse?"

"I dunno! I didn't take notes! Why don't you just call it yourself?" she asked.

"We're too close," he said. "The communication would be all distorted – I wouldn't be able to get a clear read."

"What is going on, Doctor?" Donna demanded.

"Well… we've crash-landed," Martha told her.

"What?" Colin shouted. "Crash-landed where? Are you okay?"

"We are basically okay, but we don't know where we are. We just know it's a hostile planet…"

"A hostile planet?" Colin asked, again, loudly. They could practically feel him trying to jump through the phone.

"Yes, Colin, a hostile planet," Martha repeated.

"Jesus," he breathed.

"Anyway, that means we can't leave the TARDIS. But, the TARDIS is completely dark, cold, and out-of-commission… it's got its gravity working, and a scant – very scant – amount of light, but that's it," Martha explained "The Doctor can't even work out how to fix the heart."

"The heart?" Donna asked.

"Yes," the Doctor said, absently. "The central sentience unit. The heart."

"Speaking of which, here's another fun fact: we're both having cardiac events regularly."

"You're having… what, like heart attacks?" Colin asked.

"Yes, sort of like heart attacks," Martha confirmed. "Sometimes it doesn't get that far, but…"

"That's completely mental!" Donna cried. "I mean, what, was I contagious all that time and didn't know it?"

Colin chimed in again. "And what do you mean by regularly? Like, at intervals?"

"No," Martha sighed. "Just when we get… excited."

"Oh, God…" Colin groaned.

"Or angry," the Doctor added.

"Yikes!" Donna said. "So, whenever you get your heartrate up, you have literal heart attacks?"

"To varying degrees, yes."

"That must be torture!"

"Sort of, yeah. Overall, the Doctor's episodes have been much more severe than mine. Probably because he's got two of them, plus extra arteries and veins and whatnot. The more complex a system, the more wrong things go when they go wrong."

"Well, that's a pisser," Donna remarked. "So, what are you doing, just sitting there in the console room, looking at each other?"

"Pretty much. That, and trying to fix stuff."

"And it's everywhere in the TARDIS?"

"It's in… well, at least this Canadian lagoon place, right off from the bedroom, and in the console room. We haven't been anywhere else."

"Blimey," Donna breathed. "So everyone has a bad heart now? Including the all-powerful TARDIS?"

"No," Martha said, emphatically, beginning to pace the platform. "No-one does. This is an anomaly, I'm sure of it. Speaking of which, how are you?"

"Well, it seems rather daft to complain about it now," Donna said. "But I called to tell you that the prescription request didn't get through to the chemist here."

"Damn," Martha groaned.

"Sorry to report, Martha," Colin said. "But it's something to do with your credential with Royal Hope."

"Oh, that's right – I'm on sabbatical," Martha said, smacking her forehead with her palm. "Without being on the payroll, the hospital can't endorse my credential for practising medicine abroad."

"Can't the other doctors vouch for you?" Colin wondered.

"They would, but it's a question of legality… paperwork, dates of instatement, that sort of thing," Martha said.

"And this constitutes practising abroad? Calling in a script?" Donna asked.

"Yes," Martha sighed. "Okay, I'm going to see if one of my colleagues will write the script and push it through."

"Okay. Sorry," Donna muttered, sheepishly.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

"Because you two have got bigger fish to fry now."

"Bigger than your health? I don't think so," Martha said. "Again, Donna, this is what I do! This is my biggest fish! Can you give me the name of the resort again? I will call straight away, and see…"

"Oh, no," the Doctor said, interrupting Martha's sentence. He was staring out the door, eyes wide. He repeated. "Oh, no."

And that's when he began to stumble across the console platform, once again, only this time, toward the door.

"No, no! No, no, no, no, no!" he shouted.

"What's that?" Donna wondered. "That's his panic mode!"

He slammed the door shut, and leaned against it, clutching his chest, with a few dry coughs.

"What did you see?" Martha asked.

But he didn't have enough breath to answer. He had just enough time to remember to lock the door, before the pounding began.

Uh-oh! :-o

Thanks for the reviews thus far... please keep them coming! And happy New Year!