Okay, my friends, this is the conclusion of "Hearts of Calm." This story became something different than what I had envisioned when it began... that seems to happen to me with almost every story I write! I also think this is the end of this little "series," which is kind of a hard pill to swallow, since I'd like to do more with Colin and Donna. But I think it's time to move on. :-)

I hope you like this chapter - I hope you feel like the "poetic justice" the Doctor has in mind for Judge Rabic is appropriate. I felt this was just the sort of thing that would drive him properly nuts, foiling his plans and whatnot. He is interested in power, and well,the Doctor has a way of cutting his type down to size.

If you'll recall, the Doctor had declared at the end of the previous chapter, "We're going to need the Rebel Alliance if we're going to take down Darth Vader." Well, it might seem out of left field to you, but in my head, the "rebel alliance" has always existed in this story (as it does whenever there's an oppressive regime), out there somewhere, squelched, waiting for any chance. So, sorry if it seems a little random... but don't worry, they won't become the centerpiece of the chapter or anything.

So, please enjoy!

EPILOGUE: THE JUDGE'S ACCOMPLICES

Judge Rabic sat on a throne-like chair on the stage of the arena, watching the celebration unfold before him. He was very near the spot where he'd stood, torching and blistering Martha Jones' flesh, and watching others slash at her, pierce her skin, beat, and ultimately, drown her. It was the scene of his triumph, such as it was, even though he'd not fully been able to deliver the Doctor's demise to the droves who'd flocked to Sercaton to witness his execution. Miraculously, though, he'd been able to orchestrate the spectacle of Martha Jones' death, and TARDIS had been caught disappearing. With a little political tweaking of the story, that was enough. He wished that he knew what had really happened to the TARDIS, and he wished they could find the Doctor's body so they could display it, but he took comfort in the mechanics of the planet. The heartrate regulation practically guaranteed that the Doctor was dead somewhere within the complex, and everyone knew it.

The revels had now gone on for four days, which, in his mind, secured Sercaton's supremacy. He would allow the party to continue through the rest of the week, and then he would begin the business of ruling. First things first: a Sercatonian Guard presence on every planet in the galaxy, as well as an engineering team, who could install a Rhythmistis room on each planet, as well. This would be met with resistance, of course, but if they could get it done quickly and clandestinely enough, then any protests or uprisings would soon be quelled by the regulation of heartbeats. Thinking about it made him feel a bit better about the fact that his triumph over the Time Lord hadn't been as glorious as he would have liked.

He was lost in thought as he heard the gears grinding, and felt the breeze. He stood up, as horrifyingly, the TARDIS appeared before his eyes.

Fortunately, the music was loud enough that no-one really noticed… but that was short lived.

The Doctor sauntered out of the TARDIS, and very coolly aimed the sonic screwdriver at the screen, pausing the image of Martha being taken down off the breaking wheel, having been tortured to "death" by Rabic and others. People began to notice then, and stare at the stage. The Doctor then scanned the area to find the source of the music. In short order, he killed that, as well.

And that was when everyone looked in his direction.

"Hello, everyone!" he hollered to the crowd, genially. "Wish I could say it was good to see you again, but it's really, really not!"

The crowd tittered.

"In case you didn't know, I'm the Doctor," he said. "I'm a Time Lord – last of, as a matter of fact. And as you can see, I am very much alive!"

"How… how…" Rabic said, looking at the Doctor through goggles. It was impossible to tell what sort of expression he had on his face, but the Doctor reckoned surprised. Then he stood up to his full height, gathered himself, and for the sake of the crowd, said, "What Time Lord trickery is this?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Come on, Rabic," he said, feigning annoyance. "The gig is up. This is what you get for not giving me my due."

"Not giving you… wha… what are you on about?" Rabic asked.

"Half up-front, and the rest when the job was done," the Doctor shrugged. "That's what you said. You haven't delivered. So here I am. I came to collect."

"You're insane! And you ought to be dead!" Rabic spat.

"You're right, I'm meant to be dead, as far as this lot is concerned," the Doctor said. "And I did my bit. So what gives, you old miser?"

"You're talking nonsense. I reign supreme here – you are nothing."

"Oh, very intimidating – bravo." To the masses, the Doctor said, "He's going to be your leader? He's going to look after you? Well, watch out – he's tricky. He wants so badly to be supremey-pants of this part of the universe, he'll even kill. But when he can't manage that… well, did he tell you I died? Me and my TARDIS? You can clearly see that's not true. I don't think I have to get any more explicit about how that came about, do I?"

"This is ridiculous," the Judge said to the crowd, as a hiss of disappointment rippled through. He tried to sound calm, congenial, but he was failing. He pointed at the screen. "You know what you saw – you all do! You were here! You saw her die!"

"Saw who die? Martha Jones? Interesting," the Doctor commented. He walked back over to the TARDIS, and opened the door. "Martha, would you like to join me, love?"

Martha stepped out of the TARDIS, and smiled. "Oh, hi, everyone," she said, cheerily waving. "Judge Rabic, good to see you. Sorry – I haven't been paying attention… so, are you going to pay us or not?"

Rabic began about sixteen sentences in the next five seconds, none of them coherent, and none of them formed words. He wound up sputtering something about nonsense and treachery.

The masses now were properly confused and angry. "What the hell is this, Rabic?" one man down front shouted quite clearly.

"Oh, sorry, did you think I was being tortured? Burned, slashed, et cetera, et cetera?" Martha asked the man directly. "Did you see all those times when the good judge blasted my abdomen with blazing, roasting heat? Sorry to disappoint you – the fire was holographic."

With that, she pulled her shirt up, just far enough that everyone could see that her stomach was as brown and smooth as ever, and untouched by blisters or open skin of any kind.

"I'd show you how the tops of my thighs are also unscathed, but I'd have to undress," she said, matter-of-factly. "I'm a good actress, though, eh?"

"If you'd like, I can show you the trail of money that leads from Rabic to the people who supposedly bought Partitive Passes," the Doctor offered. "I can offer you proof that he paid them off, to fake the torture."

The crowd gasped as Donna stepped out of the TARDIS, and waved. The crowd had been watching her "kill" Martha on a loop for four days - they knew exactly who she was.

"Those passes were legitimate!" Rabic screamed. "You treacherous Doctor!"

"As legitimate as her death," Donna said to him, with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"They were difficult to get, and so expensive, no-one normal could afford them!" someone in the crowd shouted.

"Indeed," said the Doctor. "And none of you ever bothered to wonder why?"

"Where are the other pass-holders?" the man down front shouted at the crowd. "Stop them leaving the arena!"

"None of this is true! The Doctor and Martha Jones, and the TARDIS, were captured, fair and square! Their execution was arranged, torture devices were prepared and… and…"

By now, the crowd was spitting so loudly, the Judge's voice could not be heard.

Rabic gave up, and called for some guards. Martha and the Doctor could both plainly see guards beginning to gather, but they looked stunned, and were not in a stance to attack. They spoke to each other now, did not do as Rabic asked, and their body language suggested shock and frustration.

The Doctor pointed at all of them and said, "You didn't tell even your own men about our little arrangement, did you, Judge? They thought you really planned on killing us. Because from the looks of things, they're feeling pretty betrayed. You lied to them, your own men, just like you lied to the rest of the universe. Blimey, I don't envy you now, mate."

The revelers were finished. They didn't know the whole story, clearly, including who the guard was who'd taken Martha Jones down from the breaking wheel and carried her out to the TARDIS… but it didn't matter. The Doctor, Martha Jones, and the TARDIS were alive. What they came here for was a total loss, and it looked to be because Rabic had a pair of accomplices willing to fake their own deaths, for a price. Some were leaving the arena muttering at one another, others were now coming up onto the stage, presumably, to ask Rabic to answer for himself. Still others seemed to be combing the crowd, and forming little inquisitorial bands.

The Doctor made eye-contact with the Judge, across the circle of people now surrounding them. He closed the space between them, and said, very softly, "Judge not, lest ye be judged."

"I… I thought you were merciful. I thought you gave people chances!" Rabic said, as a group of angry revelers overtook him.

The Doctor pushed through to him, got very close, and said, "Okay, this is your chance. Go ahead… tell them the truth. Tell them I escaped from my cell and you lost me in the complex, and then my friends and I outwitted you and your entire guard, and escaped harm completely. Tell them how incompetent you and your staff are. That would be the only honourable thing to do. Then, maybe I'll help you out of this."

"I can't do that!"

"Didn't think so," the Doctor said. He was eerily calm when he added, "In that case, this is only the beginning of the chaos that will knock at your door, Rabic."

"Doctor…"

The Time Lord narrowed his eyes, and growled, "Try to mess me and mine again. I dare you."

"Don't leave me here… please, don't leave me! They'll smother me! They'll…" Rabic begged.

"What? Strap you down and torture you with fire and blades and needles and hammers?" Martha asked, pointedly. "Don't worry, it's not that bad - they'll probably use holographic fire just like you did."

Then the Doctor took Martha's hand, and they disappeared into the TARDIS. It dematerialised, just as Rabic was getting swarmed.

"Think he'll survive the night?" Donna asked, as the Doctor whisked them away to a new locale.

"I think they'll want answers, before they'll want his death," he said. "I reckon he'll be a prisoner for a while, until… did you do the rest of your assignment?"

"I did," Colin answered, knowing the Doctor was speaking to him. "I told the rebel cell in the capitol city that the heartbeat regulation was lifted to two-hundred-twenty BPM. They're ready to storm the Congress' complex in the next few days."

"I thought you said the heartrate regulation was put in place to prevent rebellion," Martha said.

"It prevents uprisings, violent coups, and ultimately overthrows," the Doctor told her. "It doesn't prevent discontent. It doesn't prevent groups from forming."

"Apparently, they're all over the place, and they've been spinning their wheels for a long, long time, unable to act," Colin said.

"Ah, the seeds of revolution have been sown," the Doctor mused. "And you made sure they'll put him on trial rather than, say, guillotine him?"

Colin nodded. "Like you said, they want answers, and they want fairness. Not blood."

"But Rabic himself still has no idea the heartbeat thing has been recalibrated," Martha said. "So he won't order it undone. And he won't see any of it coming."

"No, but he has all of it coming," the Doctor muttered.

"Amen," Donna agreed.

With Donna and Colin safely back in Portugal, complete with beta blockers for Donna's (temporary) condition, the Doctor and Martha sat on the sofa in her flat, empty Thai food containers littering the coffee table, watching a film they'd both seen at least ten times. They were zoned-out, and fine with that.

Of course, they had hit the sheets pretty much immediately as their friends left… in fact, they were lucky to make it as far as the sheets. They'd wanted to waste no more time in a Canadian lagoon, nor in a waterfall, nor in exhaustion, nor any sort of build-up. This time, they had time on their side, and no TARDIS surrounding them with distractions and alarms. And with Martha healed – artificially, nor no – there was no holding back.

But now, adventure was on standby for the moment, their desires were sated, and it was time to settle in.

Perhaps for longer than they were currently planning.

He had seen her captured and attacked and threatened and tortured in two separate debacles in the past month… enough was enough. She deserved life. She deserved to have things, and people about, and… maybe even a mortgage, a steady job, and children.

But for now, they'd just call this another holiday, and they would lay low. And often. At least until Colin and Donna were ready to leave Portugal, then the whole group could reassess its priorities…

Martha fell asleep against his shoulder, and he adjusted himself, so that he was leaning comfortably back, and his arm was around her. He studied her face and thought about how she only had one life, and adventure takes many forms. Some of the most pressing adventures seemed mundane from the outside... he knew this from experience.

Of course, at present, he had no idea what she really wanted. He knew only that when he'd brought up this topic during their captivity on Sercaton, she had put off talking about it.

He sank into the cushions and draped his arms around her. "I guess we'll have to see. But me, I think I could do this for a long while," he thought, before drifting off to sleep himself.

Thank you so, so much for reading! Please leave me one last review to tell me what you thought... I will keep writing, if you'll keep reviewing!