Chapter 2 – "Crashing"

As Martha entered the TARDIS, the Doctor was absently fiddling with the control console, seemingly lost in thought. She walked as quietly as she could up the ramp, her concern for his well-being notching up even further. His face was pale and lined with fatigue, and the greenish glow lighting his face only accentuated his plainly evident exhaustion and made him look more than a bit unwell.

As she reached the top of the ramp, she tripped over his coat, which was in a pile on the floor, not in its usual place in the crook of one of the support struts. She picked it up and hung it over the railing, absently brushing it off a bit. She then turned her attention back to the Doctor and started to ask him if he was okay, but obviously he wasn't, and he'd probably lie about it anyway. She sighed and said quietly, "You look tired." He didn't answer, just continued to stare off into empty air. "Doctor?" she said a bit louder.

He sucked a breath in through his nose, and looked towards her, but she didn't think he was really focusing on her. "Hmm? What was that?"

"I said you look tired."

He blinked at her for a long moment without speaking, then finally said, "Suppose I am a bit." He slowly flipped a lever, then paused, his brow furrowed as he seemed to struggle to find the next control he wanted. He waved his index finger around, then finally stabbed at a button, and the TARDIS began to dematerialize.

"More than a bit." Martha folded her arms over her chest, determined to get some answers. "How long were you gone with Lazlo anyway?"

"What?" He paused in his slow wandering around the control console, checking and adjusting switches and dials here and there as he went. "Oh, just a few hours. Reconstructive surgery in the 43rd century is really quite amazing. Well, really wasn't all that difficult a job – nip the ears, a bit of dental work. I think the nose was a transplant."

Martha was taken aback, but she'd certainly seen more unbelievable things. Right now, though, she wanted to focus on what was going on with the Doctor. "You look too tired for having been gone just a few hours, especially considering how you were running around here like a madman before you left."

"I've had a bit of a bad day, in case you hadn't noticed, Martha. And since when are you an expert on Time Lord physiology?"

His tone of voice was a bit on the nasty side, but she put it down to how tired he must be feeling. She said calmly, "I'm not, obviously, but this isn't the first time since we arrived in New York that your energy level has made a ridiculously sharp turn."

He frowned, then his eyebrows lifted in an expression of understanding. "Oh! That."

"Yes. That. Care to explain?"

"That's just adrenalin."

"Adrenalin?" That wasn't the answer she'd been expecting. Nothing exotic or specifically Time Lordish, not even anything to do with his mental state. Just adrenalin. Well, an awful lot of extremely potent adrenalin apparently.

"Yes, useful stuff, adrenalin," he said absently.

She thought a moment. Maybe his quick recovery on top of the Empire State could be explained by adrenalin, but what about later in the lab when Lazlo was dying? Then she realized she was assuming his body worked the same way a human's would. "You can control it, can't you? The release of adrenalin?"

"Of course I can. Wouldn't be very useful if I couldn't control it. Uncontrolled adrenalin leads to dropping things…" He stopped talking abruptly and grimaced. He obviously hadn't meant to say that. He then quickly added, "And all sorts of other bothersome… effects." So that explained why he'd dropped the sonic screwdriver on the Empire State. She'd written it off to the cold or the wind, but it must've been a massive flood of unwanted adrenalin, making his hands unsteady. And then the gamma radiation strike, followed by at least three more intentional hits of adrenalin – no wonder he was exhausted, coming down from all of that. Actually, it was a bit of a relief to her that the problem seemed to be only physical in nature and not a sign of impending mental breakdown.

He stretched his arms over his head and said, "I think I'll go have a bit of a lie down. The TARDIS can take care of the flying for a bit." He flipped one final switch and then – he yawned. He actually yawned. A huge yawn. And promptly looked embarrassed that he'd done it in front of her. "Really, really need to get some sleep, so if you don't mind…"

He headed off towards the corridor leading into the interior of the TARDIS. She knew he needed to rest, she really did, but she couldn't restrain her curiosity. "Do you do this all the time? The adrenalin, I mean."

He stopped, sighed, and turned halfway back towards her. "No, I don't, but throwing myself into the stream of a massive burst of gamma radiation took a bit out of me. Funny, that. It wasn't exactly a good time to lie there and have a rest, so adrenalin. Kept me going, now we're not going, and I'm going to rest."

He turned and started to walk away a bit unsteadily, then completely lost his footing, fell sideways and barely managed to stop his fall by catching hold of the railing. Martha rushed to his side, hoping he was just so exhausted he'd lost his balance. She grabbed his arm to try and help steady him and asked, "Are you all right?"

She half-expected him to shrug the question off and grumble at her yet again that he just needed some sleep, but he swallowed hard and said, "No." Then he groaned and doubled over in pain.

"Doctor?!" Martha called in alarm, holding tightly to his arm as he sank to the floor. He gave a long, low moan, then pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. He pressed his head down onto his kneecaps so hard she was sure he'd have bruises on his forehead. This was definitely more than just being a bit tired. "Doctor, what's wrong? Please tell me."

A shiver ran through him and he started trembling as he gasped, "Too much. Toxic." He curled up on himself even more tightly and started to rock slightly. "Adrenalin toxicity. Not good. Very, very not good."

"But you said you can control it," she said in alarm.

"I can. Usually." He groaned again, longer and more loudly than before, though he struggled to hold it in. "Gamma radiation affected…" He had to repeatedly pause to catch his breath, the tendons in his neck standing out each time he spoke. "Affected my ability to… to metabolize it properly. It's turning into… an acidic… acidic compound." He gave a strangled laugh and started speaking more quickly, the pitch of his voice rising. "Thought I could get away before it got to this point, but you kept asking questions." He broke off with a yell that sounded like a mixture of pain and frustration.

She took a moment to process all of that and to take a deep breath and calm herself. Then she got angry. If he hadn't been in agony already, she would've slapped him. "You do know you could've waited and had a rest before you went back to get Lazlo, right? Time machine?"

He made a choking sound that she realized was meant to be a laugh. "I know. Don't like to leave things unfinished. Thought I could handle it."

Maybe she would slap him later. "You're an idiot."

"I know." Then again, maybe she'd give him points for recognizing he was an idiot. And he had pushed himself over the edge helping someone else. It wasn't as if he'd gone out on the town and sunk a dozen pints of lager just for the hell of it.

She slipped one arm securely around his back and laid her other hand carefully on his shoulder. "What can I do?" she asked, her voice coming out steadier than she felt. "Is there anything that'll help?"

He went still for a moment, apparently trying to think. If his arms weren't deadlocked around his legs, she was sure both his hands would be buried in his hair and abusing it severely. She could feel his body tensing before he let out a sound that was positively anguished. Instinct and reflex made her pull his head tightly against her chest as he rode out the wave of pain. He finally went limp, gulping in huge breaths before gasping, "Tea. Tea might help."

She wasn't sure she'd heard him right. "Tea? Are you serious?"

"Yes, tea." She could tell he was trying desperately to relax his muscles and at least partially succeeding. The pain seemed to be receding for the moment. "Tannins, antioxidants," he mumbled. "You already know that, Rose."

Martha sucked in a sharp breath. Was he hallucinating now?

He pulled away from her and sat for a moment with his head bowed and eyes closed, taking slow, deep breaths. He finally said in an almost normal tone of voice, "No, no. Martha. You're Martha. And you don't know that, so I'm telling you now."

He lifted his head, opened his eyes and let his arms fall to his sides, but then she felt his body tensing again. She initially thought another bout of pain was starting, but then she saw he'd straightened one of his legs out and was pressing his hands down on the grating. She realized he was trying to get up, so she scooted behind him, slid her hands under his arms and locked her fingers together on his chest. With the extra lift she was able to provide, he managed to heave himself to his feet. She didn't let go until she was sure he'd gotten his balance, then she ducked her head under one of his arms to take some of his weight across her shoulders.

He nodded toward the exit from the control room and whispered, "Kitchen."