ABOUT TIME
Donna had insisted upon remaining ill, ironically following Doctor's orders. She had slept for two hours, then was suddenly sick into a bin, and had spent the next forty minutes sitting on the bed, weeping.
Colin had read that one of the symptoms of Hypertensive Crisis could be anxiety, but he hadn't expected this general upheaval – the crying, the despair, watching her become crippled by fear. Somehow, he doubted that Donna was, ordinarily, quite so emotional. At least, not in this way.
But, as Donna herself had pointed out, it wasn't your typical case of hypertension. It was an "exaggerated illness brought on by exaggerated events," so perhaps Donna's up-close-and-personal contact with the time vortex was still working its ugly magic on her.
Colin paced, and listened to her breath vibrate through her, as she staved off nausea and anxiousness.
"I'm giving it another hour, and then I'm calling for an ambulance," he said.
Without responding with words, Donna leaned forward once more, buried her head in her hands, and resumed weeping.
It was agony to watch.
Eventually, Donna became still again. She was sitting up, her face in her hands, though she no longer sobbed. He doubted she'd fallen asleep, so he asked, "You all right?"
"No."
"Damn it, Donna! Take the fucking pill!"
"No," she repeated. "If I move, I will vomit again."
"This is ridiculous."
She took her hands away from her face, and looked up at him. Her pallor was positively grey, and even her hair was now hanging listless. Her eyes were sunken, she was shivering, and everything about her screamed for help.
He gasped a bit when he saw her face, and the level of deterioration that had occurred, just while she'd been sitting there on the side of the bed.
She opened her mouth to speak – he had no idea whether she would agree with him this time, or tell him again that she trusted the Doctor enough to stay in this state, and let herself circle the drain…
But she was able to get no words out. She became nauseated again, and reflexively stood up and ran for the bathroom. As soon as she was up on her feet, she collapsed. She was sick on the carpet beside the bed, and fell to her side, passed out.
"Shit!" he cried out. "No more!"
He grabbed the little bottle of pills from her night table, preparing to grind one down into powder so he could pour it into her... and then he heard it.
The sound of the TARDIS.
"Yes!" he cried, punching the air. "About goddamn time!"
After eleven agonising hours, the blue box materalised in the middle of their hotel room, just between the bed and the television. It was now impossible to pass from the window to the door without crawling over the bed, but Colin didn't care. They had the TARDIS here on Earth, which meant…
"Donna! Donna!" he said, shaking her. "You can take a pill now! Wake up!"
The prisoners sat still on one of the hard sleeping pallets. Their breathing and hearts were well-regulated, and absolutely no sound rang out in the room. They had been in deep, intensive meditation for over three hours; neither of them felt the time passing.
All of their thoughts ran to Donna. They did not have to try too hard – the fact that she was in crisis was at the forefront of their minds quite naturally, and their desperation to see her rescued was acute. They communed with the TARDIS, and with one another. They appealed to the TARDIS' heart, and her logic: her primary function was to keep her companions safe, so don't mind the gravity boosters, don't mind the light. Can she find a little bit of consciousness, a tiny spark energy left to save one of her own? Never mind the Doctor, never mind Martha – they were on Sercaton out of reach to the TARDIS. But Donna could be helped on Earth.
Go to her…
Go to her, they pleaded.
And they were jostled out of this trance by a tinny, electronic sound.
"Oh!" Martha said, shaking off three hours' worth of heavy fog, and giving herself a pervasive, constrictive headache. "That's… my phone?"
The Doctor pulled the phone from his pocket, and hit speakerphone. "Colin! Is she there?"
"The TARDIS is here!" he answered. "Got here about twenty minutes ago."
Martha laid out flat on the wooden surface then, and took a great sigh of relief. "Thank God!" She massaged her temples to try and release some of the pressure from the hard work her brain had been doing.
"Have you given Donna her pill?" the Doctor asked.
"Yes," Colin said. "I had to crush it, and put it in some water. It's the only way she could do it without gagging."
"What are you two doing now?"
"She's in the shower, and I'm here, waiting for housekeeping."
"Housekeeping?" Martha asked.
"Yeah…" Colin replied, uncomfortably. "Things got ugly. They're going to need to shampoo parts of the carpet."
Martha groaned. "I'm so sorry, Colin."
"Hey, at least your daft plan worked, Doctor," her cousin chirped.
"My daft plans have been known to do so. Anyway, Colin, we left the front door unlocked when we were taken away," the Doctor said. "Take a peek inside the TARDIS. What do you see?"
"Hang on," said Colin. They then heard the unmistakable sound of the TARDIS front door creaking open. "It's dark."
"Okay. Is there a green light on anywhere?"
"No."
"Damn," the Doctor spat. "Is it cold?"
"Yes – quite cold."
"Will you ring me back in two hours, and let me know if anything has changed?"
"Sure. If the TARDIS is dark, does that means it's not recovering?" Colin asked.
"Well... actually, probably not," the Doctor said. "It most likely means, it's just too soon. It was a huge effort for her to get to you, but now she's back on a planet where her heart can beat as it needs to, I don't see any reason why she shouldn't be more or less good as new, in relatively short order. I'll want to know her progress over the next few hours."
"Okay, but… now that we have the TARDIS, and Donna is getting back to normal, isn't there any way we can help you?"
"Yes," the Doctor said. "We will definitely need your help, but we need the TARDIS up and running before that can happen, so don't forget that progress report in two hours, yeah?"
"Yeah," Colin said. "Talk to you in a bit."
"Thanks," the Doctor muttered, cutting off the call.
"What a relief," Martha breathed, as the Doctor stowed away the phone in his pocket.
"Yeah," he sighed. "And now comes the hard part."
Two hours passed uneventfully, and Colin phoned right on time.
"How is she?"
"She's doing a lot better," Colin said. "We're having our tea now – some simple sandwiches and chips. Don't want to aggravate her stomach just now."
"That's great," the Doctor sighed, genuinely glad to hear this news, though he'd been referring to the TARDIS, when he had asked how is she?
"As for the TARDIS," Colin said, before the Doctor had to ask. "That green light you were talking about, it's back on."
"Great!" the Doctor shouted. "Is it faint, or is it on at full-boar?"
"Hang on," Colin said, and again, they heard the TARDIS' door creaking, and it made the Doctor and Martha feel incredibly homesick, and impatient for this whole debacle to be over-with. "How do I know it's at full-boar?"
"Well, is that entire column in the centre of the console putting out light?"
"Yeah, it is."
"Brilliant! Can you press the phone to it?"
"Seriously?"
"Yes, seriously."
The Doctor listened intently as the sound of the TARDIS came over the line. The hum sounded weak, but healthy… convalescent.
"Is that enough?" asked Colin, coming back on.
"Yes, I think so. I like what I hear, for the most part, but…"
"But what?" Colin asked, after the Doctor cut himself off.
"Nothing," the Doctor dismissed. "What about the rest of the room? Any other lights? Coming from the walls, or from down the hall, or anything?"
"Not at the moment."
"Okay. What about the temperature?"
"It's still chilly, but not arctic like it was before."
The Doctor sighed heavily. "That is genuinely wonderful to hear. Can you call me in another two hours?"
"Sure," Colin agreed. "What am I looking for this time?"
"Not sure… maybe you'll know what to say when the time comes. I'll have questions."
"Okay. Talk again soon."
This time, when the Doctor cut off the call, Martha expected to see him smile. But no such luck.
"What's wrong? Aren't you chuffed about this?" she asked.
"I'm glad the TARDIS is doing better," he answered. "I'm just afraid she's not going to recover fast enough."
The Doctor then set about dialing a long, complicated number on Martha's mobile. She knew without asking that it was the TARDIS' communications system he was hoping to connect with.
"Now that we're far away from her, you think you'll be able to hear what Donna and Colin heard? Her heartbeat?"
"Yes. Or the comm will ring on the console because she's back online," he said. "Either way is fine."
His ear was then filled with a low hum, and a pulse. It was the unmistakable inner symphony of the TARDIS – energy flowing and fighting to get through her interior, her consciousness. There were sounds of resistance, of hope, of the vessel working to come back to her full strength.
And underlying everything, there was a pulse. The Doctor clocked it at one-hundred-ten beats per minute.
"One-ten BPM," he said. "Getting there, but… damn it. Not fast enough."
"Wha…" Martha started to say, but they were interrupted by a guard, coming delivering their evening meal: cold creamy soup with non-descript bits in. As always, it was served on a heavy stone tray, in heavy stone bowls.
"Good evening sir," the Doctor said, boisterously, as the guard was arriving. The tall, rubber-helmeted man grunted, handing him the tray, and just as he was leaving, the Doctor asked, in incongruously friendly tones, "I'm hoping you can shed some light on something I've been wondering about. Will we get a request for our last meals?"
"What?" asked the guard, incredulously.
"Will we be permitted to choose our last meals?" he asked. "Our execution is pending closely, isn't it?"
"As I hear tell of it, it's tomorrow," said the guard.
"Oh, dear," the Doctor said. "Well, I hope you'll pass along a little titbit of info to Judge Rabic: I like to do my dying before lunch. Just… you know, as a courtesy. Maybe."
"The Congress' state rooms are nearly overflowing with officials from galaxies around. We're just waiting on two more arrivals, set to be here by breakfast-time," the guard said. "So I would guess that you'll get your wish. You'll be dying early."
"Lovely, lovely," the Doctor said, affably. "Good to know. Thanks for telling us."
"I shouldn't have," the guard said. "I'll be back in a while to pick up those plates."
As the door slammed shut, the Doctor said, "Thank heaven they let the underlings do the meal deliveries. A superior officer would never have responded to me."
"Underlings like to talk," Martha said. "To show they know what's up. It's true in hospitals too, especially with medical students."
"Well, to put a positive spin on this," the Doctor said, with a big sigh. "Now we know roughly what time we will be executed – the mystery is now gone."
"Oh, hooray," she said, her voice sarcastic, pinched and anxious.
"But it means we'll have to wait."
"Wait for what?"
"Wait for the morning – for the breakfast delivery," he muttered. "I was hoping to get this done at dinner-time, when all of the planet's attention isn't focused on us, and the security detail isn't on high-alert, but, well, you play the cards you're dealt. As it is, we're going to be cutting it a bit fine…"
"Ah, but that's what we do best," Martha said, with a tired smile.
"Oh, yes!" the Doctor exclaimed, as only he can.
They spent an anxious night, waiting for the first light. When it came, the Doctor saw that Martha had actually managed to fall asleep, and he was loath to wake her. But he'd had no choice, because without this little head-start this morning, she would never survive their escape. As it was, his plan was dodgy and dangerous for her, but it was all he could think of, with the resources he had.
And it all hinged on the TARDIS, Colin, and Donna… and really great timing.
Colin and Donna had rung at two-hour intervals all night, reporting in on what new developments the TARDIS was exhibiting, as far as her functions. The lights came back fairly early-on, but the navigation system was taking agonisingly long to come online.
"Well, this could make the timeline really awkward," the Doctor muttered.
"I hate it when you say stuff like that," Martha muttered back.
"So do I," Donna added, over the phone.
"So do I," Colin echoed.
"It's okay… as long as the navigation system is working by, say, lunchtime today," the Doctor said.
"And what if it isn't?" Colin asked.
"One thing at a time, mate," the Doctor responded. "Call us back in one hour, instead of two, yeah?"
"What d'you mean, 'yeah?' What's the alternative?" Donna asked. "Let you get executed on planet Circlethon, or whatever? We'll talk soon. Be safe, both of you."
With that, the call ended.
"Okay then," the Doctor said to Martha. "We've got to get started pretty soon – we don't know how much time we've got. Are you ready?"
She took a deep breath and exhaled through pursed lips. "Ready as I'll ever be."
"All right," the Doctor said. "First things first."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the last two remaining beta-blockers. He had squirrelled away a small amount of liquid from last night's dinner and drink, so that he could swallow them. He took them both, now fully aware that their largest piece of insurance against this barbaric planet was now consumed.
And that was more than a little terrifying, considering that his plan B for Martha's safety had so many flaws.
"Now," he said to her, as he sat down on the hard pallet where he'd been lying, the past two nights. "Come here."
She approached, exhaustedly, and sat down across from him, as she had the day before. He took her hands.
"I'm shaking," she said.
"I see that. You won't be, in just a few minutes, love," he lulled. "But you know… this isn't guaranteed, Martha."
"I know."
"This is just the best solution I can think of, under the circumstances."
"I know," she said. "But based on what we accomplished with the TARDIS, I think this idea has a chance. And I trust you."
"Good," he whispered. "And you know, I wouldn't be able to do this with just anyone. It's because we, you and me, we are…" He swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.
She smiled "Yes, we are."
"But I need you to know, that no how much we are, and how deeply entrenched we become, it's still just a mental exercise. It's still a test of thought-control. Which means it's tenuous. There are lots of things that could interfere with it. Unpredictable things."
"Okay. I get it."
"So, if you lose connection, it doesn't mean there's something wrong with you, or with us. It doesn't mean we're any less…"
"Okay," she repeated.
"Okay," he echoed. Then he reached across with one hand, and cradled her jaw, then leaned in for a kiss. When he pulled away, she gave him a weak, tired smile. "How about we lay low for a bit after this?"
"Don't say things like that," she chuckled. "That's what jinxes it."
He smirked. "Okay, well, failing that, we could revisit the idea of settling down. Kids, dog, insurance policies."
She laughed.
"What?" he asked, exaggeratedly, feigning offence.
"You keep bringing that up."
He shrugged. "There's more to the universe than just exploring it, Dr. Jones."
She laughed again. "I'm just thinking of you, writing an insurance cheque. And mowing the lawn. It's kind of entertaining."
Now he laughed as well. "I've done both of those things. Well, not insurance cheques so much as bribes, but in my world, you know..."
"We aren't really talking about this are we?"
"Not if you don't want to."
She was silent for a few moments. "Later," she said, at last.
"All right then. Let's continue the chaos, shall we? Tally ho!"
What's the escape plan? How will they keep Martha's heart from exploding while they do it? Welllllll….
Okay, this was not the world's most exciting chapter, I realize, but I would really love to hear from you anyway. If you're reading a story, only fair to comment!
Thank you for reading!