I KNOW I'VE SAID THIS BEFORE, BUT BE WARNED. DARK, DARK, DARK. PREPARE FOR YOUR OWN NIGHTMARES OF THE DOCTOR.

NINE

A squeaky blonde was seated among the Jones clan like a major fish out of water. The demure family was being uprooted by this sequin-wearing, fake-tanning, hair-bleaching menace. Martha saw her as a lizard, as a flesh-devouring thing, but she'd never have admitted that to anyone else.

The whole city was talking about the mad story of the hospital on the moon. Leo's 21st was being ruined, overshadowed by the day's events, and it was Annalise, the blonde flesh monster, who wouldn't shut up about it.

Suddenly, Annalise was on her feet, pointing straight at Martha. Angrily, she screeched, "You're a liar! You're a filthy liar! It's impossible – you can't have been on the moon."

And then she wasn't quite Annalise anymore, That is to say, her demeanour changed to something decidedly more stiff, and the annoying squeak morphed into something else. A bright, sunny voice with an American accent came out of her, and with the bright, insincere timbre of a news broadcaster, she said to Martha, "Salutations! They were looking for non-humans. A non-human died, and it's all your fault. This is Sally Calypso, signing off. Missing you already!"

Soon, her family was in shambles, and spilling out into the street. Her mother and Annalise were screaming at each other, and her father was attempting to run interference. Everyone chased one another down the road... and then the Doctor was there. She saw him at the end of the street, leaning against a brick wall, smirking that smirk. Her family wholly distracted, she followed the Doctor around the corner. And there she saw the handsome man and his TARDIS. He was still smirking, and she smiled.

"I went to the moon today," she said.

"Bit more peaceful than down here," he observed.

"You never told me who you are," she reminded him, walking towards him.

"The Doctor."

"But what sort of species?" she wanted to know. "Not every day I get to ask that..."

"I'm a Time Lord," he said, importantly.

"Right! Not pompous at all, then."

"I just thought, since you saved my life, and I've got a brand new sonic screwdriver that needs road testing, you might fancy a trip."

"What, into space?"

"Well..." he said to her, in lieu of a yes.

She began to make excuses (albeit, valid ones) about why she couldn't. He insisted that he was able to travel in time as well. She blinked, and suddenly saw the booming metropolis of a futuristic city behind him. Spires reaching for the sky, cars flying about, new and old hope on the endless horizon. And then it was gone. It was enough to convice her. Blimey – he was a time traveler!

It was all very kitsch and first-date show-off stuff, but he was irresistible. She'd known all along she'd say yes – she just didn't want to seem to eager.

"Your spaceship's made of wood," she said cynically. "And there's not much room, we'd be a bit intimate."

This seemed to spark something in him. With a knowing grin, he pushed open the door and told her to take a look. She stepped inside and her jaw dropped. Her utter awe seemed to spark something further.

She cried out, "It's huge! It's wood! It's bigger on the inside!" Again she did not see the spark, but it was there.

They approached the console, and circled round it together as the Doctor got the vessel ready for disapparation. She followed him, and they talked. He mentioned Rose. His face was forlorn and she could tell that it cut deeply even to think about her. And he made it perfectly, starkly clear that Martha was not to replace her. She insisted that she wouldn't presume. "For the record, I'm not remotely interested," she told him.

After babbling a bit about the gadgetry on the console, he asked her, "Ready?"

"No," she said smiling.

"Off we go!"

The TARDIS bumped and crashed as it traveled.

And then suddenly it stopped. He took his hands away from the console and looked at her with smouldering eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Showing off. Look outside."

She went to the wooden door and peered out into space. Again, her jaw dropped. She gasped with awe. She was back in space again, only this time, nothing she saw was recoginsable. No moon, no Earth – just swirling clouds of gas and light. The whole universe seemed to glow, and she tried to take it all in.

Suddenly the Doctor was behind her. He put a hand on the door above hers and the other arm went around her waist. She didn't mind. In fact, she felt warm inside.

"Where are we?" she seemed to moan. "It's beautiful."

"We're at the formation of the planet Jupiter," he told her. "The surface of the planet never does become solid enough to support life. See how slowly those gases are swirling? Well that's half the speed of normal gases at this stage of gravitationalising. This solar system will explode back out again before Jupiter has a chance to pull itself together." As he said this, he bent his head forward and smelled her. She was musky, womanly and delicious.

Martha chuckled at his comment. "Mum tells us the same thing about my brother."

"Martha," he gasped in her ear. He took in her scent again, and suddenly she felt the hardness pressed against her back. As quickly as the euphoria had set in, it left her. That was a bit much! Who did he think he was, bringing her up here for a shag? He promised her time travel, an adventure. Instead he just wanted a quick roll and then goodbye. Cheeky! She wriggled free of him and stalked back up to the console. She stood at the top of the ramp with her arms crossed.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I told you. Showing off," he said again. He turned and shut the door, and made sure that she saw him lock it. "Are you impressed?" He began to walk slowly toward her, and a voracious look came over his face.

"No, I'm not impressed. Now I've been on one trip and I want to go back," she demanded, stomping over to the navigator's chair. "Take me home right now."

He didn't say anything, did not respond to her angry expression, did not increase his slow pace. He simply took his time in getting to her, and planted himself in front of her. He reached over to her and pulled some type of tape out from behind her ear.

"I can't believe you're wearing this, considering what's about to happen," he scolded. He showed her the tape. It was a square patch that said honesty.

He pulled something from his jacket pocket, and said, "This is more like it." It was a similar patch that said paralysis.

Suddenly she felt herself being dragged.

"I'm sorry!" he was saying as he muscled her by the neck, across the room. "I'm so sorry. I can help! I can help you!"

"Let me go!" she screamed.

"I'm sorry," he continued to insist, as she continued to scream and plead to be let go.

"I'm so gonna kill you!" she insisted, fighting him, she knew, in vain. "I'm gonna kill you myself!"

And then she was on the floor, she was staring at the ceiling of the TARDIS and the Doctor was on top of her, straddling her hips. He was aroused, she was screaming.

He shoved her head to one side, and she saw a flash of the paralysis patch. "Don't you dare!" she screeched in fear. "Don't put that near me!"

"It's just paralysis, it won't hurt you," he told her, as he pressed it against her neck.

Immediately, the effects set in. She couldn't move or speak or scream or cry, but her senses were in order. She could clearly see the flash of greed on his face as her body went limp and pliant. She could also clearly hear the zip of his dapper pin-striped trousers coming down and see his tumescent member exposed. She could the cold as he peeled her jeans off and she felt the pain as he pushed her arms over her head and held her down, pressing her flesh into the metal floor of the TARDIS. She was totally conscious of him forcing her legs apart and pushing himself inside her and grunting obscenely, and of when he pushed inside again... and again... harder each time.

Inside, she was screaming. Inside, she was fighting. Outside, her body was under the most hideous of assaults, and there was nothing she could do about it. Not even close her eyes. She was forced to see the hunger and violence in his eyes, forced to look her attacker in the face as he took everything from her. He slammed in and out with abandon, indescriminately, drooling, grunting, whispering obscenities, with utterly no concern. He had treated the malevolent aliens on the moon with more respect and consideration! She was humiliated, cold, alone and trapped inside her own body. She begged silently for an end to this – she just wanted it to end.

"Children of the motorway," he growled in her ear. "Children of time..."

For a split second, a woman stood over them, watching. Cheen, that was her name. "Children of the motorway," Cheen said, never smiling, and then disappearing.

And then Martha's body betrayed her somehow. Inexplicably, and much to her horrifying dismay, her body yielded a long, rippling orgasm. She was disgusted and confused – how could her own body do that to her? The pulsing inside spurned the Doctor to greater depths of lasciviousness, and suddenly his movements were desperate and brisk. He pushed faster and faster and faster until he clearly grunted the word "Rose," and then was finished, spent and emptied inside her. Somehow, that one word seemed, in that moment, worse than the whole experience combined. If he had said anything else, like "melon," or "meadowlark," she might have survived. But his Rose caused something to snap within her.

Then he caught his breath and stood up, zipped his trousers and left her lying there, as though she had only been some kind of receptacle. Next stop: 1599. Shakespeare. She'd get help there.

Shortly, she regained her ability to move, and to test it, she turned her head to one side. She could see the apparition of a face, which seemed to be behind glass. It seemed to be speaking, imparting a great wisdom. It seemed to have all universes and all time within its mind. And it said to her, "You are not alone."