FOURTEEN
Not for the first time, Jack thanked his lucky stars that the Doctor made house calls.
When Martha's mobile phone had rung, the Doctor had been in a café with a cup of Earl Grey, waiting for the afternoon when Jack would ring to tell him it hadn't worked, Francine hadn't been convinced yet. And so, he had been duly impressed with how quickly Jack had managed to convince the incredibly stubborn and mistrustful mother of Martha Jones to let the Doctor into their home once more.
"How'd you do it?" asked the Doctor, leaving a tenner on the table and heading for the door.
"Let her see some of Martha's visions of the Master," Jack answered smugly. "She said Martha remembers you having tried to wipe out the human race in order to destroy hope for Utopia in the future, and the Master being some kind of beacon of hope. You killed him, of course."
"Of course," the Doctor said with a bit of a smirk. He could not have taken a light, joking tone like this before now – he was allowing himself the indulgence of superficial happiness just for the moment. He was finally going to see Martha again, and he was going to be allowed to help her!
"Doctor," Jack said a bit more soberly. "I hate to rain on this parade, but um... we still have one fairly big hurdle to think about."
"Yeah," the Doctor agreed, walking briskly toward where he'd parked the TARDIS. "Even if I'm allowed in the house, how will I get near Martha?"
"Right."
The Time Lord was silent for a bit. Reluctantly, he admitted, "You might have to hold her down, Jack."
"Ugh," Jack groaned. A pause. "Ugh," he said again. "I can't even stand the thought of that. Isn't there any other way?"
"Well, how did you show her the DVD of me?"
"We tied her to a chair," Jack told him. "But she writhed around so much, I don't think you'll be able to get her to sit still long enough to kiss her."
"Okay, well..." the Doctor trailed off.
"Well, what?"
"Let's brainstorm when I get there. Ask Francine what she thinks."
"Ten-four. Thanks, Doctor."
"No Jack. Thank you."
When the Doctor opened the TARDIS door across the street from the Jones residence, Jack was standing outside awaiting his arrival. They strode toward each other, and met in the middle of the street.
"I had an idea," Jack told him as they both stopped. With that, he placed the perception filter over the Doctor's head, the one he had used not one hour before to sneak into the BBC.
The Doctor stared at it for a moment, and then smiled. He looked at Jack, and delightedly, said, "That might actually work!"
They walked into the house, and Francine waited in the doorway to the kitchen.
"So, when's he coming?" she asked, even as the Doctor strode through the door in plain sight.
"He's here, Francine," Jack told her. "Look closely."
Slowly, her eyes focused upon the tie, the pin-stripes, the trench coat, then the eyes, the spikey hair... and she saw the Doctor. "Oh my!" she exclaimed. "That is odd!"
"Shhh," Jack told her. "We don't want to draw attention to him. We think this might be a way for him to get close without getting his eyes clawed out."
"What is it?" she asked. "How does it work?
"Long story," Jack told her. "I'll explain later."
"All right," she said. Then she focused again on the Doctor. "Hello, Doctor."
"Hello Francine," he said. "Lovely to see you again."
Cordially, she returned, "And you."
Pleasantries exchanged, Jack said, "Right then. Shall we?"
Martha was still sitting on the sofa where they'd left her. She had her knees, as usual, pulled up to her chest, and she was rocking back and forth. When the three others entered the room, she seemed to go on-alert. Her eyes opened wider, and she looked at them, but seemed not to register their actual presence. She was like a blind person looking through them.
Her breathing grew short and laboured, and her head began to flit from side to side like a bird. Jack hadn't seen her react this way since his first day there. Since then, she'd been mostly catatonic. No matter – she wasn't screaming or trying to scratch anyone yet, and the Doctor was already in the room with her. So far, so good.
What Jack didn't see was the look of anguish on the Doctor's face when he saw Martha. He didn't hear the short intake of air that kept the Time Lord from bursting into tears. His beautiful, wonderful, clever, dynamic Martha was reduced to this, a shuddering invalid trapped inside her own home, her own consciousness. And what made it worse was that he knew that at this very moment, horrible, horrible images of himself were running through her mind. He could be doing anything to her in her dreams right now, and he wanted it over. He knew now more surely than ever that loved her, and he could not bear the thought any longer that she hated him, or that he could possibly hurt her, even if it was just in visions. He was ready to end this, and ready to begin rebuilding their relationship, and ready to discuss that thing that had brought on all of the dark visions... could it be that she'd blamed him all along? If so, he had a log more damage-control to do than he had realised.
But he didn't have time to dwell upon this now. His priority right now was bringing her back to herself. He silently reminded both Jack and Francine that they should not speak or make any noise. He knew that the slightest anomaly, the slightest sound could alert Martha that he was there and ruin his chances of curing her, possibly for weeks. If the perception filter was to work, they all had to tread very, very lightly.
He tiptoed toward her. Her bird-like movements grew more agitated and rapid, and her breathing as well. She knew something was amiss, but the Doctor presumed that the perception filter was acting as a thin wall between them, but he didn't know how long it would last. He carefully sat down beside her. She looked right at him, seemed to blink a few times, but her eyes were almost blank. Though her body trembled and something was ready to burst, she was still not conscious of his actual presence.
Without wasting any time, he leaned toward her. Almost imperceptibly, she recoiled from him, but he caught her lips easily. A golden glow began to swirl near the Doctor's throat, and it coiled around their heads. Rays of light began to emanate from it, and the rays became swirls in their own right. Soon, both observers could see that Martha and the Doctor were both fully engaged in the kiss, and the golden glow was envelopping them both from head to toe. Even Francine could see her daughter healing, and the Doctor could quite literally feel it. Slowly, the tendrils of energy repaired the rip in Martha's mind, replaced her black visions with memories of real time, real love. And there was pain too, but it was real pain, a whole pain, born of friendship and strife, not the nightmarish, exaggerated, fragmented terror of her visions. The glow did not fade with expense of the energy, but only burned brighter as Martha was restored, her personality, her cleverness, her loves, her hates and foibles... she was back.
When he could sustain it no more, when the drain of energy finally became too much, the Doctor broke the kiss. The energy glow faded in an instant, and what was left was two lucid people sitting on a sofa staring at one another.
For the first time, Martha's eyes showed a bit of a sparkle, and she was aware of herself and her surroundings. She blinked, and looked right at the Doctor. "You're here," she sighed, her brow furrowed with emotion.
He smiled, and they fell into another long kiss, perhaps even more healing than the one they had just shared. All the time wasted, all the secrets, all the nightmares went out the window for now, and they just basked. Jack led a sobbing Francine away from the scene and simply allowed the lovers to discover each other again.
