ok, here is the next chapter! thank you to all who reviewed, i just have to say that i was shocked at the number of reviews i got, you guys must really like this story! (which im not complaining about!) :)

so, please read, and enjoy!

Chapter 2 ~ Too Late

The Doctor opened the door of the TARDIS and peered out into the quiet street. It was still early morning, and he wondered whether Martha would even be awake yet. He glanced over his shoulder at the women, who both seemed to be waiting for his next move. He cleared his throat and addressed Cora, 'are you sure that this is the right day and time?'

She nodded, 'I arrived in the TARDIS on what would have been around six in the morning here, I just got you to pilot the TARDIS to an hour later. We have several hours before she is due to go missing'.

He nodded and hesitated, unsure at that moment how to continue, when Donna said impatiently, 'come on, we don't have all day'.

The Doctor felt heat rising to his face and said quickly, 'right, you two stay here, I think I should be the one to tell Martha what's going on'. He stepped into the street and was walking quickly away before either woman could reply.

Cora watched him go then turned to Donna, who was gazing after the Doctor with a troubled expression, 'what was all that about? He seemed suddenly flustered'.

Donna shrugged, 'skinny is in love with Martha Jones'.

Donna turned back into the TARDIS, leaving the statement hanging on the air as Cora followed her, saying, 'what just like that?' she sounded not exactly curious, but as if she was trying to confirm something.

Donna smiled and sat on the floor of the TARDIS, gazing up at the dusky young woman who watched her as she said, 'I saw it plain as the nose on my face when I was here last. When she called…you should have seen the way he went to answer; it was as if he had been desperately wishing that she would call, but was suddenly afraid to talk to her. And when we actually met her, I could see it, even if he himself couldn't. And afterwards, ever since we left again, I sometimes catch him staring at the phone as if he can will her to call him just like that and he stares into space with a faraway look in his eyes as if he is remembering something. I used to think it was to do with the companion he had before Martha, Rose, but I know differently now. I was with them both for only several days, but I could see it. And now he gets to see her again, and you can bet your life that he won't tell her how he feels, no matter what he wants'.

Cora sighed, 'that's actually really…sad' she sounded slightly surprised, 'do you think he realises how he feels himself?'

Donna shrugged, 'I think he is starting to…or at least I hope he is. Its really hard to live with a depressed Time Lord'. She looked into Cora's face for a moment then abruptly changed the subject, 'so, tell me about yourself, or what you can tell me without changing the fabric of time anyway'. She paused then continued, 'for instance, how do you know that the destruction is caused by Martha being experimented on. I mean you said that it's meant to happen 48 hours after she goes missing, so how did you know she was the cause?'

Cora hesitated for a moment, weighing her answers and trying to decide which ones wouldn't damage anything. Finally she said, 'at the time this happened, when history changed I mean, I am the Doctor's companion'. She stopped for a moment and seemed to go into deep thought, beginning again slowly, 'I can't tell you why, but at that time Martha was also there, with us I mean. The TARDIS sensed the change and at the exact same moment, Martha vanished. The rest of the world, including myself, just started to fade. The Doctor got me back on the TARDIS before I faded completely, but it was too late for some people'. A shadow passed over her face as she spoke and Donna noticed the way she started to rub her arms, as if she was suddenly cold. Cora swallowed hard, 'I lost my siblings. They faded before the Doctor could get them on board'.

Donna stared, shocked, and completely at a loss at what to say. She didn't have any siblings, so she couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose them, and be the only one to survive. She could imagine the guilt though, and the anger at what ever had caused it, aside from the obvious grief. After a moment Donna said softly, 'I'm sorry'.

Cora seemed to shake herself, 'after that we went to the TARDIS and spent the next day or two in the vortex, figuring out what had caused it and how to stop it. The Doctor worked for ages on this vortex manipulator, trying to make it as accurate as possible, especially as he didn't know exactly where the TARDIS would be. He ended up altering it so that it could only transport you into the TARDIS, but only if you were in it at another time. He also spent the entire time telling me what I couldn't tell him or you'.

Donna searched her face, noticing that she had a far away look in her eyes. After a pause she said, 'there was no choice in sending you back was there?'

She laughed humourlessly, 'I was the only person who we knew was alive that was at no risk of running into a past version of themselves. The Doctor couldn't come back because we needed to tell the past version of him and if he met himself that would cause a paradox. Besides, I wanted to do something, and aside from the fact that the Doctor trusted me, he knew that I wanted to stop whoever had destroyed my family, and that I would by any means possible. So no there was no choice, not for me anyway'.

The Doctor stood outside the door of Martha's flat, stomping his feet in the cold, gazing back over his shoulder at the TARDIS only just visible from the other side of the street through the early morning mist. Now that he was here, about to see her again, he suddenly felt…well nervous would be the word. He had only seen her a couple of days ago, and yet his throat was dry and he was fidgeting by bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet. He had only felt like this a couple of times before, the most recently having been when he last saw Martha, less than a week ago. He wondered what would have happened if she had decided to travel with him and Donna again, whether her life would still be threatened. He rubbed his hands together, wondering whether he was nervous because of actually just seeing her, or whether it was because he would have to tell her that someone was going to kidnap and experiment her, and that that would somehow cause the end of the world. Martha had put her life in danger many times before, and had usually ended up saving the Doctor and many others, so he doubted that she would overly worry about that. What he knew she would be terrified of was that she could somehow have something to do with the destruction of countless lives, and not just in this universe. It was one of her many traits, the ability to wave away the dangers to herself if it meant that someone else could be saved. It was both something that he admired and something that terrified him; it was too parallel to the dreams that haunted him.

Shaking off his thoughts, the Doctor took a deep breath and fixed her face in his mind. Even as he concentrated on her fine features he felt his muscles relaxing and the tension in his mind and his body evaporating in the cool air. It was a crisp cold morning and he could see his warm breath in the air in front of him as he breathed in and out, feeling the calming affect she had always had on him as if she was really there.

After rolling his shoulders and clicking his neck, the Doctor took another breath, reached out towards the door and knocked. The door opened slightly at his touch.

The Doctor stayed completely still for a moment, trying to shake off the feeling rising inside him rapidly, then called out, 'Martha?'

There was no reply and he pushed the door further open, enabling him to see that her hall was littered with books and torn pages. The door stuck suddenly, and he had to lean his whole body against it and shove hard for it to budge even slightly. He managed to open it enough to squeeze his body through the gap and slip into the hallway.

Then he turned around, and froze, staring in shock and horror at the scene of destruction before him. Torn books and pages littered the floor in front of him, having tumbled from the bookshelf that had fallen against the door. A table had been broken and splintered all over the floor, and someone, or something, had gouged chunks out of the wall. Plaster had fallen from the ceiling and bits of wire dangled dangerously from above. Feeling almost as if he was in a dream, the Doctor moved slowly into what had once been a living room, but what now resembled the results of a bomb. The couch had been over turned, the stuffing ripped out, springs thrown all over the room and parts of the wooden frame splintered into the ground. The TV had been chucked onto the ground and little bits of glass littered the ground around it. Tables, chairs, lamps, anything that could be thrown or destroyed had been, leaving everything in little pieces. Whoever had been here clearly hadn't been looking for something; someone who deliberately wanted to cause destruction had done this.

The Doctor shook himself and shouted, 'Martha? Martha are you here?'

There was no reply, which was expected, but he had hoped there would be all the same. He walked into the kitchen, splattered with food and broken glass, and looked around. He started to search every room as well as he could, in a vain hope that there might be something to give him a clue.

He ended up in her room last, and it was there that he found the thing that frightened him the most. Martha's bed had been over turned, the curtains stripped and the lamps hurled across the room. And spreading over the floor near the window and seeping over shards of glass was blood. The Doctor let out a sound that sounded like a small animal in pain and moved forward hesitantly. He kneeled down beside the stain and took out his sonic screwdriver and scanned the blood with shaking hands. It was human.

For a moment the Doctor sat there, staring at the dry blood, and feeling his anger rise to the surface. Anger against whoever had done this, anger at himself and his cowardice for not telling Martha how he felt, and anger at the fact that he was considering that he might never see her again. It was an ancient anger, one that he was afraid of letting out on the people he cared about, the type of anger he felt towards the Daleks, the anger that he had felt when his daughter, Jenny, had died, the anger that had nearly driven him to kill. He leapt to his feet and lashed out, kicking the end of Martha's up turned bed in a rage, not feeling the hurt he did to his own foot. He stood there for a moment, seething, and then spun on his heel and strode towards the door.

Something crunched under his feet. He stopped and bent down, picking up the battered, ripped half of a photo frame. Something sharp had torn a jagged line straight through the metal and glass and the photo it encased. It had once been a picture of Martha and another person, but it now only contained the half with Martha. She was smiling that enchanting smile of hers, her eyes shinning in the light coming from behind the camera, full of laughter and mischief.

He pulled the picture out of the ruined frame, careful not to tear it any more, and whispered, 'I will find you Martha, I promise'. Then he tucked the photo into his pocket and left the room, leaving his anger, and his promise, hanging in the air.

so what do you think? any ideas? im open to constructive criticism :)