THREE

Before Martha even had the chance to ask what was on her mind, namely "What the hell was that?" they were stopped again. This time, a heavy, middle-aged woman wedged her way into their path. She had scraggly red hair, beefy arms and if she had a waist, it didn't show. She planted herself between the travelers and their vessel.

"Doctor, is it?" she asked making a failed attempt at flirtatious sweetness.

The Doctor's eyes were as big as saucers, and his mouth seemed to be stuck in an "o" formation. Martha nudged him to speak, and in response, he sputtered, "Y-yes, yes that's me."

"I though' so," she said. As she spoke to him, she sauntered closer, utterly failing to notice that he was traveling with a group, including an attractive woman on his arm. "I couldn't 'elp overhearin'... I live next door to the Clarke family what jes' lost their youngest son. I 'eard what you said 'bout cleanliness bein' next to Godliness. That was soooo eloquent, Doctor." By now she was so close, he could smell the beer on her breath. She reached out and touched his nose very lightly with her index finger, and smiled, revealing all of maybe five teeth. "Tell me another one, won' you?"

Again, he found himself sputtering. "Well... well... that was... you know it's funny, because I'm not the one who... really, it was my friend here who..." he said, gesturing to Martha, and then to Feeno. The woman didn't take her eyes off him.

"I'm Margaret Prudence Malbain," she said. "But you, sir, may call me Meg."

"Thanks, er, Meg," he said. "But my friends and I really must dash. It was nice meeting you."

At risk of being followed or pegged as otherworldly, the Doctor decided not to head straight for the TARDIS in Meg's full view – she was blocking their path anyway. Instead, they headed up a street even narrower, and had their first bit of privacy since arriving.

Martha voiced her earlier question. "What the hell was that?"

Jack was thoroughly entertained. "Man, you're horrible at this!"

"Well, I'm glad you're having a laugh, Captain Jack, but as I've mentioned before, I'm not you. This sort of thing doesn't happen to me every day," the Doctor insisted, unamused.

"Yes it does," Martha said, matter-of-factly. "Rose liked you. Sally Sparrow liked you. Shakespeare, Talullah with three L's and an H, not to mention Nurse Redfern. Oh, and Madame de Pompadour... though I wan't there for that one. And there's me, of course," she said, batting her eyes exaggeratedly.

He thought about it, rocking back on his heels. "I suppose you're right. But that's all been in the last year or two. This particular regeneration's gotten me into a bit of trouble."

"Nine hundred years, and this is the first time you've been good-looking?" asked Jack.

Again, the Doctor thought. "Yes, I think so." He still wasn't particularly amused. "But that doesn't explain why behemoth women and men are throwing themselves at me in the street in the time of the bloody Black Plague. Surely my considerable attraction does not run as deep as all that!"

"I believe, Doctor, I may know why," Feeno offered. "Might it be because the Earth was infused with Captain Jack's reproductive instincts?"

"What? And it's all directed at Prickly and Pin-Striped here?" he asked Feeno, exasperated and gesturing to the Doctor. "I don't think so. If anything, it's Martha's influence causing this."

The four of them looked at each other. First, the Doctor's eyebrows went up in recognition, and then one by one, it dawned on each of them. The planet had been infused with the essence of Martha Jones, therefore, love of the good Doctor was in the air. There was no way around it.

"You said it, but I didn't actually believe it," the Doctor said to her.

"When did you say it?" Jack asked. "I didn't hear that."

Sputtering again from the Doctor. "Well, no, it was... when she said it, she... you wouldn't have heard it... it was when... Martha was... we were... it was at a time when..."

"Oh, okay," Jack said calmly. "Post-coital small talk. I get it."

Martha's face slowly wrinkled. "Ew," she groaned. "I don't think I like this. Doctor, can we go now? Maybe come back at a time when this has worn off? Say... six hundred and fifty years down the line?"

"I think that's quite a good idea," he answered. "I did promise you a trip back to your mum."

"Is it back to your TARDIS now, Doctor?" Feeno asked.

"Yes, indeed," said the Doctor. He took Martha's hand and peeked around the corner to find out if Meg was gone. He muttered, "Blimey."

"What?" Martha asked nervously. She and Jack and Feeno peeked around the corner as well. There were three men, constables it seemed, inspecting the TARDIS with keen interest. They were trying to get inside.

"Oh no," Jack said. "The police are are checking out the police box." Then, after a pause, he said, "Which isn't as appropriate as it might seem to an outside observer."

From the other end of the alley, they heard hoofsteps. Another group of constables came ploughing through on horseback, shooing the "loiterers" away. The Doctor and company were forced back into the larger alleyway. Without missing a beat, the Time Lord led his friends into the watering hole where they had stolen Feeno's cloak. They took a table near the front window so that they could keep an eye on the TARDIS and its curious observers.

"Okay, now what?" asked Jack.

"We wait. Won't be long," the Doctor assured him.

Indeed, it wasn't long. After a minute or so, the constables gave up and wandered off. However, they were immediately followed by three other looky-loos who couldn't get enough of the old police box. Two women who were attractive enough, and looked to be about thirty, and a man with a very full, curly black beard were enormously inquisitive of the TARDIS. They did not touch it or try to enter as the constables had, but they were speaking to each other, chattering, really, as they explored the outside.

"Blast!" the Doctor rasped at the window.

As the Doctor was looking outside, a pretty blonde barmaid came sauntering up to their table. "I ain't seen you lot 'round 'ere before," she said. "Where you from?"

"Um... Freedonia," Martha answered quickly.

"Ah yes," Jack chimed in. "The great land of Freedonia, where the cattle run free... and so does everything else, apparently."

The barmaid looked at him curiously, then turned her attention to Feeno. "And you friar? You as well?"

Without looking up, Feeno muttered, "Yes, I as well."

"And you, sir? Are you from Freedonia too?" she addressed the Doctor.

He pulled his face from the glass abruptly and looked at her. "Eh?"

When she saw his face, she blushed. Her expression of curiosity became one of giggly embarrassment, and she began to laugh uncontrollably. She covered her face with her hands and stole glances at the Doctor as she laughed.

The Doctor, now aware of the game, stared at her deadpan. The more he looked at her, the redder her cheeks turned, and the more she giggled.

Jack decided to give the poor girl a break. "Listen, miss, can you just bring us four glasses of beer?"

Still beet-red and giggling, the girl curtsied and hurried away. As she prepared the drinks, she was glancing across the room at the Doctor. At one point, another, beefier barmaid came to her side, and the two of them gawked from across the room.

In fact, the entire room was staring at their table. Old, young, attractive, homely, man, woman alike... the Doctor was the center of attention. He had not said or done anything to bring eyes to himself since he entered the place, and yet...

"God, you must really love me," he muttered to Martha.

She was looking around the room with a sour look on her face. "Yep. Yep, I do," she said, without any feeling whatsoever. She repeated her earlier assertion. "Ugh. I really really don't like this. It's like I told you before: I'm not ready to have a sense of humour about this yet."

The Doctor took her hand under the table and stroked it reassuringly. He didn't have to say anything – just his touch made her relax. They looked at each other and smiled knowingly.

"You two better be careful," Jack warned. "If they like you this much, they're going to start throwing things at Martha if they see you doing that."

"I don't mind," she said, starry-eyed, staring at her Doctor.

Staring back, his starry-eyed expression faded into that look of pure genius he gets when he's had a brilliant thought.

"I've just had a brilliant thought," he announced.

"What?" they all asked at once.

Just then, the barmaid returned to the table with a tray of four beers. The Doctor made eye contact and smiled at her. It wasn't a suggestive or flirtatious smile – it was just a friendly smile. She went red again, and found that she could not look him in the eye.

"What's your name, miss?" asked the Doctor.

"Maris," she answered, speaking directly to the floor.

"Maris, do you think you could bring me another – perhaps free of charge?"

Her eyes snapped up to his. "Oh, sir, I'd love to but... I don't think..." she glanced uneasily back to the bar where her boss was standing.

"Maris," the Doctor said, lowering his voice. "It would mean a great deal to me. It would be a special favor from you to me." He gave her a soft smile, coupled with large, ridiculously soulful eyes.

He had her.

"Oh," she hesitated. "All right, sir. Just a moment." She blustered off again.

The Doctor stood. "Right then. Off we go to sweet-talk some nosy medieval rubberneckers!"


Outside the tavern, Plexaphedros, Ahedruma and Maude were inspecting the TARDIS.

"Do you think they spoke the truth?" asked Ahedruma. "The negress suggested that they return in six hundred and fifty years... she was uncomfortable here."

"Yes, Ahedruma, their words implicated time travel," Plexaphedros answered, calmly, stroking his full, curly, black beard. "And their speech, clothing and demeanor indicate that they are out of their element."

"They are traveling with a negress and a Roy-Leman," Maude pointed out. "That, in and of itself, shows they are unique in this place, in this age."

"We must harness the power of this vessel somehow," Ahedruma announced desperately, gesturing grandly toward the TARDIS.

"What do we do?" Maude wanted to know.

"I have a plan," Plexaphedros assured her.