THREE

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The wide, black-robed guards surrounded Martha and the still unconscious Doctor quickly.

"Why did no-one tell me he was here!" the Queen demanded.

Martha slapped lightly at the Doctor's face and his eyes popped open suddenly. He sat up as if pushed, looking around brightly.

"Oh. Nice hall," he said appreciatively, getting to his feet. "Hold on, what's all this-." He stopped to wipe his face, finding it slick with green slime still. "Oh blimey, Floccinaucinihilipilificus slime," he sighed sadly. "That's never coming off properly."

"Doctor!" the Queen shouted from behind him. "You are the Doctor, are you not, sir?"

The Doctor looked up at Martha, then his eyes shifted slightly to one side, widening with something akin to fear. He focused again on Martha. "Is that a tall woman in yellow?" he whispered to her. She nodded. "Thin? Loud voice? Queeny-type?" he whispered quickly. She nodded again.

He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and then opened them again. Martha watched him take a deep breath and plaster a wide smile on his face before spinning round on the balls of his feet.

"Doctor! It is you!" the Queen cried, deliriously happy, then stopped short. "Oh. You've changed!" she said suddenly. Martha looked from one to the other quickly, willing her jaw not to stick out.

"Yeah, just a bit," he grinned charmingly, letting his hands slide into his pockets. "How've you been then, Queenie?"

"Oh don't!" she giggled, her face going red suddenly. He chuckled indulgently and Martha folded her arms slowly. "The guards will think I've gone soft!"

"And we can't have that, can we, Queenie?" he winked broadly, and she waved air at her face, giggling. He wandered over, closer to the throne slowly.

Martha noticed the woman's eyes go up and down his suit as he walked over and leant an elbow on the statue next to her throne idly.

"Now listen here Maj, couldn't trouble you for a bath, could we? It's just that we've been pushed around the floor of one of your guest suites and, well," he said, looking apologetic and yet slightly devilish at the same time, "we're not exactly at our best."

"Oh, look at you, my Doctor," she purred, leaning forward in her throne. "I'm so dreadfully sorry about all that, darling. You know, I tell these people to watch out for your lovely blue box, and they never listen." She took in his face slowly. "You're so young now," she sighed. "How long has it been?"

"Oh, years," he stressed, mindful of who was listening.

"More like fifty," she giggled.

"Perhaps it just feels like fifty," he winked, and she giggled again.

"Well my dear, seeing as you do look not entirely clean, I'll leave you in the capable hands of my staff. I do apologise for your treatment, my dear Doctor."

"Can't be helped, I imagine," he said cheerfully. "All those wars to fight, all those armies to organise," he added. He took his left hand from his pocket then pulled on his ear innocently as he leaned nearer slightly, pinning her with a winningly arched eyebrow, "all those soldiers to see to."

She giggled again, beside herself with joy.

"Oh! You naughty boy! Don't make me put you across my knee," she blushed.

"Maybe after I've had a bath, eh," he said to himself, turning away from her as he rubbed the back of his head slowly.

He found Martha watching him with distaste. He took a moment to acknowledge his own confusion at this.

"Guards, find this handsome young gentleman and his servant some quarters!" she called. Martha blinked.

"Now hang on there, Queenie old girl," he said quickly, noticing Martha's look of outrage. "She's my friend. And we're not staying."

"Oh, my dear Doctor, I think you are," she purred, and he swallowed. "Now then, rooms please!" she shouted, clapping her hands.

Guards once more descended on them, but this time waved them back toward the door.

"And don't worry about me, Doctor, I know where you'll be sleeping tonight!" she cooed as they made it out of the door.

.

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They were led down a hallway, full of tapestries and paintings, antique vases and plush carpets. Martha strode along, arms folded, ignoring everyone and everything. The Doctor ambled along, hands in his sticky pockets, taking surface interest in the pretty, shiny things that adorned the long corridor.

Suddenly a guard stepped in front of them and then stopped. "In here, please sir," he said formally, waving to a door. The Doctor put his hand out and pushed it open, spying similar opulence inside. "And miss," the guard said politely, waving her on down the hallway.

"Ah - wait a tick," the Doctor said quickly, reaching out and grabbing Martha's elbow. She shook him off neatly. "She's staying with me," he said forcefully.

The guard turned to him. "My instructions were –"

"Like hell she is!" Martha hissed, and he looked down at her.

"Martha, shut up," he said quickly, then looked at the guard. "Look here, good man," he said gently, "if she doesn't come with me, I'll be displeased. And then I'll have to tell the Queen you upset me. See?"

"I… see," the guard said slowly.

The Doctor opened his eyes wide in sympathy, looking at the guard as if a small child. "Will she be pleased with you?" he asked slowly.

"No."

"So is this girl coming with me?" he asked, bordering on patronising. Martha watched, unable to comprehend why the guard was letting this Gallifreyan get away with talking down to him like this.

"Yes, sir," the guard said slowly.

"Thanks," he said quickly, pulling Martha by the arm and whisking her into the room.

She waited until the door was firmly shut before turning and walloping him hard in the chest.

"Ow! What now?" he demanded, massaging the stinging area desperately.

"You little - gah!" she spluttered, turning away.

"What?" he demanded, confused. "Look, get to the window and get it open," he said quickly, going through his pockets and finding his screwdriver, trying to flick green slime off it hurriedly. He realised it had already dried and tutted.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are we leaving?" she asked airily. "I thought you'd want to spend time with your very good friend the Queen!" she accused, staring at him.

He realised he was very lucky that looks could not literally kill. "Blimey, who bit all the chocolate coating off of your Kit-Kat?" he cried, confused. "Look, we have about an hour before she sends someone for us, so come on, we need to find out where the TARDIS is and get back there before-"

"Before what?" she demanded. "Before that woman finds you and manages to convince you that this world needs you? That something here needs your expert touch?" she said sarcastically. "Don't think she'll miss us when we're gone, Doctor, and don't think there one single thing on this planet that needs your help!"

"You think she'd stroll in here and tell me some sob story, and I'd feel obliged to help?" he asked innocently.

"Yes! Absolutely yes! Because I've seen it happen before!" she challenged.

He paused and then flicked his gaze over her head suddenly. He thought for a second, then looked back at her. "Perhaps," he admitted calmly. "But believe me, there is nothing in all the worlds that would convince me to stay anywhere near her," he breathed.

"Why? Just how do you know her?" she cried.

"Do you really want to go into this now?" he demanded. "I'd much rather laugh about all this later, behind big thick TARDIS doors."

She pouted, then huffed. "Point taken," she admitted, and he nodded.

"Good girl. Window," he said tersely.

She sent him one last glare before heading to the window and pulling the catch, opening it slowly. "It's going dark," she said over her shoulder, as she heard the familiar sound of the screwdriver.

"Good. That'll make things easier," he said. "Their eyesight's poorer than ours in the dark."

"So what's the plan, Batman?" she asked stiffly. "Just jump out of the window and run like hell?"

"Sounds good," he said, nodding to himself and flicking off the screwdriver. "The TARDIS is about three miles that way," he said, pointing at the window.

He walked over and pushed the window open higher, sticking his head out and looking over the landscape. "Er, Martha," he said quietly, then brought his head back inside.

"What?" she asked stiffly.

"Look, do you trust me to get us out of this trap and back to the TARDIS?" he asked plainly. She looked up into his face, his face distorted with worry.

"I suppose," she admitted grudgingly.

"Really?" he pressed seriously. "No matter what we have to do?"

"You say that like we'll be… Oh no, what is it?" she asked, turning to the window and looking out. And down.

"We're a few floors up. Hope you don't mind heights," he said, turning and moving her to one side, putting his foot out of the window.

"Oh bloody hell," she sighed to herself. "Why couldn't I have ended up with someone from Star Trek instead?" she said flippantly.

"Be glad you didn't - you're wearing a red shirt," he observed. "And everyone knows that means this is about the moment you'd fall and d-"

He tumbled out of the window suddenly and she gasped, leaning over to make a grab for him.

"I'm alright," he called up, his hands round the drainpipe running just outside the window. He scrambled to get his feet back on the wide ledge, designed to carry heavy air-conditioning units. She breathed out a sigh and then shook her head.

She waited till he was moving down the ledge, and then put her foot out of the window. She edged after him and they made it to the drainpipe.

"Allons-y," he smiled bravely, grabbing the pipe and swinging his feet down quickly. He found the bricks in the wall and started his way down.

Martha stood on the ledge of the Queen's Royal Palace of Floccinaucinihilipilificus Prime, her shoulders, neck and legs below the knee coated in Floccinaucinihilipilificus slime, and looked out over the green hills and brown trees slowly turning to scary black shadows as the suns set quickly.

She sighed, then simply turned and grabbed for the drainpipe, starting her way down.

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