Poor, poor Martha. How long before Donna's plan gets her out of there?

MEANWHILE, ON THE INSIDE

She tried to think rationally. She tried to remain calm. She tried to think of her captors and torturers as beings to be pitied for their all-consuming anger, immaturity, and ultimate victimhood under the thumb of centuries of totalitarian government. She tried dissociating as she'd read victims of abuse or assault often do. She tried pretending she was someone else, or watching the proceedings from above…

But none of it mattered.

She was too much in-the-moment. She was too angry, too frightened, too much in pain. She felt everything. And the fact that she was being watched by a bloodthirsty mob, and a thousand voices cheered for her suffering, just magnified it all.

Including the heartbreak. Where was he? What was he doing? The only thing she knew for sure was that he wasn't here. He hadn't been captured, so she hoped he was "recalibrating," and coming up with a plan to get them both out of here. He did like to cut it fine, and nothing in her time with him had ever given her reason to believe that he was not doing those things right now, but it was so hard to have faith, under these circumstances. When another blast of heat from Judge Rabic's flamethrower seared her flesh, she gave another groan, and felt genuine despair.

What if this is how I'm going to die? In pain, humiliated, and on display.

Two Partitive Pass holders had crossed the stage thus far, and one had not, in the end, had the strength to inflict much pain on her. The small, hooded figure had tried beating her with what looked like a cricket bat, but it ended up feeling less like torture, and more like it simply may or may not bruise. The second pass-holder had been more brutal, and had got up right next to her ear, and screamed, as loud as he could, Death to the Doctor. The being, whoever he was, had some type of supersonic vocal ability beyond her ken, and her ear was still ringing. She reckoned she might be able to feel fluid gathering.

Damn it, Doctor. Where are you?

She knew that she had hollered for him to stay away because security was too tight, but she knew deep down that he was too clever to do anything as daft as to try and walk up into the staging to break her out. She knew him well, and hoped he'd pull one of his stunning rescues from out of left-field, where no-one saw it coming…

Donna, Colin and the Doctor had gone separately back to the TARDIS, with the Time Lord arriving first.

He was so relieved to see her, be back in her infinite spaces. With her, he felt cradled by his own consciousness, and hers…

But on the other hand, his hearts sank. She was still pretty dark, not up to one-hundred-per-cent capacity, which might make it tricky to escape Sercaton if they were being pursued.

Also, shamefully, he was just relieved to be inside, where he could no longer hear the taunts and torture coming over the tannoy. It was messing with his brain. Just in the moments when he really, really needed to be on his game, he couldn't think straight… could not calm his thoughts long enough to work out the logistics of rescuing Martha. Judge Rabic's plan was working not the way he'd planned, but it was crippling the Doctor into inaction nonetheless. The ruthless leader had been planning to exploit their love, and he had succeeded.

He hoped that being back in the steadying presence of his TARDIS would help him centre himself, and shut out the din…

But then Donna and Colin came through the door, and she promptly ordered the Doctor out of his clothes.

"What?" he asked.

"You heard me. Off with that uniform, and hand it over. Colin's going to wear it now," she said.

She had outlined her plan back in the storage area, and the Doctor had decided to go along with… well, most of it.

He unzipped the rubber suit down the side, and began to try and manoeuvre out of it. "You can't make me stay in the TARDIS while you do the hero thing, Donna."

"You're right, I can't," she said. "But what better ideas have you got?"

"I don't have one yet…"

"I know," she told him. "That's why I'm going forward with what I've got."

"How long before they get tired of messing about, and just kill her?" Colin asked.

"I have no idea," the Doctor said, stepping out of the rubber suit, and handing it to Martha's cousin.

"Again, this is why we have to move forward with a plan. Any plan," she reminded them. "Where's the psychic paper?"

"Under the console somewhere, I think," the Doctor told her, now in just a pair of boxers. He walked away from them, Donna knew, temporarily. He stepped through the archway, and just around the corner, he found an emergency stash of clothing he liked to keep near the console room. He pulled on a pair of his brown pinstriped trousers, a light blue tee-shirt, and the matching suit coat. He gathered a pair of socks and white Converse in his hands, and shut the closet door.

Donna now stood on the platform holding the psychic paper while Colin struggled with the Sercatonian guards' uniform.

"Screwdriver?" she asked.

"Look around on the console a bit," he said. "Pretty sure I left it leaning between gears somewhere. What do you need it for?"

"Just insurance," she shrugged. "Doesn't it undo shackles and things like that?"

"Yes, but it's conspicuous."

"Better than nothing, eh?" she quipped. "Colin, hurry up and get that thing zipped, and let's go."

"Hang on, would you? This is made for someone – not even human – who is a right sight skinnier than I am, all right? I'm squeezing into like it's a sausage casing and it's not easy nor pleasant," he said, ending in a mutter.

"Donna, really," the Doctor pleaded. "I have to come with you."

"And do what?"

"Help!" he shouted. "Martha is out there, probably dying, and you're just going to make me sit here and wait, like a bloody doorstop?"

"No! Not sit here and wait! Coax the TARDIS awake," she said. "Because you may have recalibrated the planet so that she can exist here now without going into cardiac arrest, but she still isn't up to her full strength, and the only thing that we know for sure will make her move is a distress signal. And since all of us will be inside, I don't reckon we'll have that advantage!"

"Donna, I can't just…"

"We are parked literally steps away from where you and she are set to be executed, Doctor," she continued. "We will need to get out of here in a hurry. The TARDIS will need to be in top shape for you to fly her. You want to rescue Martha? I get that, but she's doomed if the TARDIS won't move, and you know it. Someone needs to tend to her, and it can't be me nor Colin. It has to be you."

"Blimey," he groaned, pulling his hand down over his face, seeing, of course, that Donna was right.

"Not to mention, Doctor… I'm sorry, but if you come with us, you'll be a liability. They're looking for you. For you."

"Fine," the Doctor agreed, looking harried, tears coming to his eyes. Earnestly, he instructed, "But you get her back, Donna. Don't take chances with her life. You wait for your moment. Be smart."

"Have you ever seen me being anything else, Spaceman?"

"I'm serious," he said, his voice breaking. "She's being tortured. I can't let… I can't…"

"I know," she said, taking his hand. "We won't let it continue longer than it has to, and we will get her out."

"Don't forget, mate," Colin said, from inside the eerie-looking rubber helmet. "I want her back as badly as you do."

"Don't bet on it," the Doctor spat, before turning away from them, and toward the console. "Go. Go do something spectacular. I'll get the old girl ready to fly."

Donna and Colin stepped out into the arena and joined the crowd. They were watching someone attack her with an electrified prod, and she was giving uninspired screams at this point, her face looking as though she'd vacated her body.

"God, she doesn't look like she's got much fight left in her," Colin groaned inside his rubber helmet. "I'll burn this bloody place to the ground."

"Easy, now," she said. "No giving yourself away."

After a minute or so, another person appeared on the stage, and seemed to show a ticket to the Judge. It was someone tall and thin, looked female to Martha, and had grey skin with bluish hair. She picked up a knife... big enough to be almost a sword.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," Donna muttered. It was the first outward expression of dread or panic she'd allowed herself since they'd found the Doctor and realised the direness of the situation.

"Now, be aware," Judge Rabic said to the tall woman. "Humans do not typically survive deep stab wounds, as most of their insides are riddled inefficiently with vital organs. We need to keep her going for a while longer."

The woman nodded, and then began to slash at Martha's jeans. At first, it was only the fabric being cut, but after only a minute or so, Martha leaned her head back, shut her eyes tight, in a visible attempt to try and shut out the pain. And then, blood began to appear.

"All right, I'm not standing here watching any longer. I've got to move," Colin said. "Someday, this story might get told, and I don't want to have to tell her father that I watched her get cut up by some psychotic, knife-wielding alien, with a grudge against the Doctor."

"Have you got your mobile phone on?" Donna asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. See you on the other side."

The Doctor stood alone in his TARDIS, hands on the console, eyes shut, delving mentally into the soft, welcoming reaches of his vessel's consciousness.

"Come forward," he coaxed her. "I'm here. You have me. Draw strength from me, as I draw from you. Sercaton has not won – the atmosphere has been recalibrated to accommodate you, and no-one has yet become the wiser."

He felt her awaken slightly, and the lights came on.

He knew that she could feel him, and that she would have relaxed a bit just from having him within again. But she was still ailing.

"I'm just standing here," he told her. "Not running, not escaping, not thinking. Not about anything other than your safety. Pull from me – please. Take my strength, and use it. I'm in stasis, reserving myself. Donna is saving Martha – everyone is okay. Just concentrate on you. Be well. Be well…"

A sound came from the TARDIS' heart, and it reminded the Doctor of when a laser-jet printer powers up. It was a high-pitched ramping-up, a lively, reassuring, noise of machinery that works.

"Good girl," he said to her psychically. And he stayed in deep meditation. Because the TARDIS would need him to stay solid for a while, and…

…something was occurring to him. He couldn't just walk out there and save Martha, working TARDIS or no. And it was still bothering him that his original plan to keep her safe hadn't worked. Donna was going to do all the heroics today; he hadn't been effectual in the least. Sure he'd been clever enough to recalibrate the planet's heartrate regulation, but as far as Martha's well-being, all he'd done was sneak her out of the cell and get her captured and tortured. The rhythmic meditation in which he'd engulfed her had been broken by an injection to the arm, a little jolt of pain. That's it – that was all it had taken.

A little pain.

Pain.

Martha's in pain. Big pain, now.

Her screams still echoed in his mind, and even though he knew that any rescue attempt would basically be a kamikaze suicide mission, he still itched to help her. He had no idea how long it would take for Donna and Colin to get to her…

Meditation as a way of keeping Martha safe had been a flimsy plan, but the connection it had established between them had been anything but flimsy. The rhythm, the dance… it might not have been enough to save her from capture, or from a heart attack, but it was enough to solidify the two of them as… what? Companions? A couple? As psychically linked? As profoundly connected? All of the above?

Yes. All of these things.

It had been enough for the two of them to see the potential, their relationship, their feelings for each other, their connection, as a tool.

He could make what had been flimsy much more solid. He could bring in the TARDIS. He could reach her while she was being hurt, so she could not be jolted.

What if he could take her out of the pain?

"Now, be aware," Judge Rabic said to the tall woman, holding a sword. "Humans do not typically survive deep stab wounds, as most of their insides are riddled inefficiently with vital organs. We need to keep her going for a while longer."

Martha groaned inwardly. She was determined to show no more external signs of pain or fear. It was giving the crowd too much satisfaction, and it was being used as a weapon against the Doctor. If it wasn't killing him, it was likely spurring him into doing something completely bonkers…

But this was the first Partitive Pass holder who had come at her with... what was that, a sword? At least Rabic was warning her not to run Martha through with it… just yet. Though, part of her wished someone would, just so this rubbish could end.

The sword slashed Martha's jeans, cutting the fabric to ribbons first…

Then, Martha felt something knocking at the corners of her mind.

"Pull into yourself," a voice said.

A familiar voice. Her favourite voice in the universe.

There you are, she mused.

She closed her eyes and put her head back, just as she felt the sword penetrate her skin. She reckoned her thighs would be bleeding a bit now.

"I tried that," she told him, internally. "It didn't work."

"I'm here now," the Doctor's voice lulled. "Me and the TARDIS… she'll keep us safe. Dance with me, Martha."

And she gave herself over to him, as she always had. Suddenly, they were back inside one another, this time in the arena where she was being tortured, but the place was empty. The floor was polished parquet, and the balconies were decorated with flowers. The Doctor was wearing a blue suit – her favourite – and he held her close. And they danced.

This time, the rhythm wasn't important… just being with him was what mattered. Being together. Feeling him touch her, seeing his eyes, hearing his voice, his reassurances. It all detached her from what was happening.

"She's slicing up my skin," she said calmly, allowing herself to get lost in his eyes. "Why is it not snapping me out of this?"

"It's not any worse than what you've been through thus far, is it?"

"No," she said. "I'll admit, the flame-thrower is the worst."

"Is your skin blistering?"

"Yes."

"Martha, I'm so sorry."

"I know," she said. "And it's not your fault. You did your best with the resources we had, and you did what you had to do."

"I can't believe it's come to this."

"You mean, to the moment where being attacked with a sword is no longer painful enough to jolt me out of a meditation?" she said with a smile.

"Yes," he whispered.

"We've got to take our small victories where we can get them, I suppose," she told him, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I'm so glad you're here. I wasn't sure how I was going to continue to cope without you."

They danced for a bit, and Martha could feel blood dripping down her thighs, but she did not feel the brunt of the pain. She simply leaned into him, and let his presence take her away.

After a few minutes, she said, "Another Partitive Pass holder is here. He's got needle-y fingers."

"Ah, the planet Yurepeak. If ever there was a group of imbeciles with no right to have a grudge against the Time Lords, it's them… and yet, they think we ruined their planet. I'm sorry you're having to pay for it now."

"Rabic just warned him to stay away from my jugular," she sighed.

"What a Prince, that Rabic."

"I know… needles in my shoulders and torso now… slow and disgusting," she told him.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "We'll bandage you up later."

"I'll have scars."

"Yes, you will. But that's why I'm here."

"I won't have perfect skin anymore," she said, with a sheepish smile.

"Your skin is just wrapping. I'm trying to save your soul."

"Sir," said a rubber-clad, Sercatonian officer into his helmet's communications device. "I've searched the perimeter of the arena twice. No luck. The Doctor is not here."

"Very well," said his superior officer. "He's just nowhere, it seems."

"The coward's probably crawled off somewhere to die."

"Probably. Come back to the control room, and we will regroup, what few of us there are."

"Understood. See you in a few minutes," said the officer. He reached up to turn off the comm screen inside his goggles, and turned subtly as he did so, so as to walk back up the hill toward the public entrance of the arena.

As he did, his elbow bumped into something.

"Ow," he said, under his breath, then took a few steps back to see what random detritus had been left here since he'd last inspected the area.

It was an eight-foot-tall blue box, that said "Police" across the top.

"Sir?" said the officer, engaging his comm system again. "Can you send out that image of the Doctor's time vehicle again?"

"Why?"

"Because I think I've located it."

"It's coming…" said the superior officer, just before an image of the TARDIS appeared in the officer's field of vision.

"Yes, yes," said the junior. "This is it. The Doctor's TARDIS is not far from the public entrance to the arena."

"Give us coordinates."

The junior officer obeyed. Then he asked, "How will we move it to the stage to face its execution?"

"Our current orders are to use a communications system to pipe in live images of it into the arena for the crowd," said the superior officer. "And to destroy it with axes. I will send a camera crew, and a wrecking crew. You've done well. Stand by."

A weird chapter, but I hope an impactful one! Leave a review, let me know. :-) Thank you for reading!