Martha had loved the city. She had wandered down the pier and up the main street. She had found herself weaving into every shop which strung her attention; which was all of them. She had never been to Wales and this port side city was beautiful. She had walked down the main street, alongside the pier and up the other side of the same street. Now, she had wandered down a quieter street. Barely anyone was walking by, the shops mostly of voodoo and hand readings, which now after the experience with Shakespeare, she found completely daft. Though as the pit of her stomach grew, her eyes began to search for a place to eat or at least get something.
Her silent calls fell upon a small two story pale blue house, the sigh hanging above the door reading CAFÉ AND GALLERY. She shrugged, looking both ways before crossing the empty street to the small café. As she opened the door, she was immediately washed over with the smells of fresh pastries, cinnamon, and warm chocolate. She sighed, her stomach giving a low rumble in response. The interior was warm, the walls painted in striped of chocolate and cream as the mold ran beautifully along the floor. In the front room sat about ten small circular tables all with two dark wood chairs and white linen clothes.
"Ello deary, just you then?" Martha turned her attention to an older woman who smiled at her.
The woman was older and slightly plump. Her chocolate curls rolling down her pink cheeks and around her hazel eyes. She was dressed in a pair of light skinny jeans and a short sleeved band tee. She must have been within her mid-twenties, maybe older. Martha smiled and nodded, letting the waitress smile and begin to lead her off into one of the small tables towards the back. Placing a single sided parchment on the table in front of her, she left, giving another bright smile.
Martha scanned the menu, already knowing what her stomach wanted. Since coming through that door, she wanted a fresh cinnamon roll and a warm cup of chocolate. It had gotten chilly outside, and only now did she actually realize that underneath her red pleather jacket and black jeans, she was actually quite glad to be in such a warm environment. She leaned on her hand, her eyes scanning out the window. With a sigh of relief, she watched the horizon as the water waved from so far away. She really needed a day to herself, to get her mind together after everything which had happened.
"So, what can I get you love?" a cool and soothing voice asked, causing Martha to look away from the sway of the sea to a new waitress.
Her hair was pale as they were all rolled up into a loose and lovely knot on her head with her bangs pinned back. Her pale blue eyes were nearly white as the setting sun hit them in the windows reflection. Even her skin was pale, and Martha wondered if she was sick or had some sort of disease. She smiled, answering her question with the cravings her stomach ached for. She smiled, her lips painted a cherry red. She was dressed in a pair of black distressed skinny jeans, a white painted tee which hung over her shoulder and a pair of black combat boots. She was lovely, though looked like a ghost.
"Coming right up and feel free to look about the gallery while you wait." She smiled, pointing towards a back room.
Martha waited till she had left to get up and follow the girls pointed finger. She hesitated a bit, curious as to what might be within these walls. Bucking up, she waltzed in and instantly she stopped. Her eyes widened and her body stiffened. She nearly collapsed to her feet, her eyes darting around the room full of painted canvases of such beauty and such emotions. As if a sudden shock ran through her body, she jolted from the café, rushing back up to where the TARDIS had dropped from the vortex.
Her mind was racing, those pictures running around like a movie in front of her eyes. She had only heard the stories, the ones he had told her, but to see it, to actually have an image in her mind; it was wonderful. Shoving open the door to the machine, she called out.
"Doctor! We have a problem!" Martha yelled, suddenly surprised by the living TARDIS once more.
"Oh, Martha. Got her all up and running again." The Doctor smiled, jumping down from the console, hands shoved in his pockets. "So, what's this problem we have?"
"Gallifrey!" just as she finished that word, his face had dropped and his expression died.
He gripped her arms tightly, growling through his teeth, "What about it? What's happened?"
"Paintings." Was all she could make out, her fear of the man in front of her boiling deep under her skin.
He sighed, his expression softening lightly, "Martha, Gallifrey is similar to the planet Mars, that's probably what you saw." He clapped his hands together a smile returning on his face. "Now come on, like I said. Romans!"
"Orange sky, is that Mars?" she replied, slightly irritated that he wasn't paying attention to her. "The glass thing…the-the-"
"The Capitol." He muttered, finishing her sentence. He didn't move; his face lowered on a single lever which would began a new adventure. "It can't be…no one on this planet knows about Gallifrey, where did you see these? Take me there."
Martha, now inwardly smiling that he had finally taken her words seriously, darted back out the doors, the Doctor on her heels. They weaved through the many people around the pier, all of them turning to them as they ran past. The wind began to pick up a bit as the sun became covered by the grey clouds above. They darted up the vacant street, the small blue house and the hanging sign just in sight. Martha wanted to explain, and with it she hoped that it was all just a mistake on her part; oh she wished it was a mistake. They began to slow down, the shop door now in her grasp. Pushing it open, she made eye contact with the sickly looking girl, who by looking up from whatever she was doing seemingly glared at them.
"You lot, have fun just running off?" She nearly growled, now standing in front Martha, arms crossed. "Or did ya have to go and get your mate here to join you without telling me?"
"I'm sorry to have to interrupt your obviously angry rant, but-"
"Oi! Shut up, you think I want to hear it Suity? I'm not interested. Besides, we're closing." Martha was astonished that the girl was able to easily get the slightly irritated Doctor to actually stop talking. "Who are you anyway?"
"I'm Martha and this is the Doctor." Martha growled back, now getting an icy glare.
"Oh? Another Doctor, fancy that." She rolled her eyes and began to walk away, obviously giving up on the idea of throwing them out. "Aren't you a little early for an exam Doctor?"
Martha opened her mouth, planning on explaining, but was stopped by the Doctor putting a hand on her shoulder, walking slowly forward. He had a curious expression; his glasses still perched on the bridge of his nose. Confirming her first statement, Martha nearly scoffed at the thought of him being an actual doctor, when she was the one studying medicine. Crossing her arms tightly around her chest she rested most of her weight on her left hip as he mentioned that she was his assistant. The girl hesitated, looking at the two of them carefully.
"Yes, well, we're busy for the next few weeks, so they sent me early." He stepped forward, like facing a dragon. "I'm not familiar with what the other doctors did, so what do you normally do?" He always astonished Martha with his ability to wedge his way into being someone he clearly wasn't.
She pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth, something which stuck Martha with a familiar rush. "Normally you just do a check, run blood tests and body scans; checking as for why I'm such a ghost." She surprised the two by giving a laugh; which Martha noted was sweet and childish in nature.
She began walking towards the back room, turning she motioned for them to follow. She began talking, about her newest paintings, and about strange dreams, like someone was telling a story in her mind. The Doctor listened to every word, trying to fit everything into a puzzle within his mind. When they entered the room, Martha nearly ran into the Doctor; frozen within the door frame. She easily noted the movement his eyes made as they darted all around the room, wide yet somewhat hopeful.
The pale girl, Mair Watson, they had learned, took a seat in the far back. She seemed so mysterious to Martha and yet so ordinary. Her ghostly appearance was still troubling to her, wedging her way past the Doctor to roam the room herself.
"I painted all of these; guess it's my own little world." Mair huffed, setting her hands folded within her lap.
The Doctor didn't speak, though Martha complimented her on her work. Martha walked past, her hand rolling over the acrylic paints. There was one of a field of a strange red flower with a light for a core as it was swept within the lush crimson grass which met the orange burnt sky on the horizon. Another was of the snow capped valley in which the Capitol sat, between the mountains of Solace and Solitude. Another of a brown lake, fishes jumping and a little girl playing; something burning in her hands. As the Doctor's eyes swept over them, Martha could see the pain in his eyes, these memories breaking his hearts. He smiled weakly as he walked by the lake, muttering something about singing fishes and other creatures among the brown waters. He mumbled about the bioluminosity of the red velvet flowers within the field and how a single moon was so bright you could always see it. Martha smiled weakly, the Doctor catching up to her in front of another painting.
The sky was darkening and yet lighting up with the shining moons as the light hit the foliage on the canvas. A tree which broke from the ground below, surrounded by the crimson grass, shivered within the light as it hit the silver leaves creating a reflection of the moon among the sky. Martha could see behind his glasses that he always missed his home; always missed this planet.
"When did you paint these?" Martha, unknowingly angrily asked the girl, leaving the Doctor alone with the silver tree.
"Since I came here; to Wales. About, three years ago. I've painted things like this since the day Avalon took me in as her daughter." She looked down, letting a curtain of blonde cover her vision. "It's weird isn't it? Yet, so beautiful."
"It was." The Doctor almost whispered, and quickly corrected it, "They are all very beautiful. You're quite the painter."
The Doctor slowly, his hands in his pockets, walked over and took a seat across from her, his face somewhat somber. He leaned back in the chair, looking at her like there was something Martha couldn't see. Something about this girl was strange, and yet she was just an ordinary girl. She stood beside the Doctor, a hand on his shoulder. These paintings meant something, something big and yet something small.
"You're not a real doctor, are you?" She lifted her head up, breaking the silence.
"Correct. We're sort of, travelers." He spoke, his face not changing as he looked at her, a small gust of hope in his eyes. "Do you know why you're so pale? Have they ever told you?"
She shook her head. "They've said I'm anemic, that I'm lacking in vitamin K and A, that I'm just sick." She seemed to be cracking as she spoke; afraid.
"You don't believe it-"
"Of course I don't!" Martha felt the small fear which strung through her words as she spoke, "I have amnesia, I'm sick, I paint this impossible place; something is wrong and I don't know what it is! I just feel like I'm alone, like I'm the last one."
He leaned forward, his arms crossed on the table. He seemed to know what was wrong, and yet he wanted nothing more than to be wrong. He knew she wasn't sick, that she didn't have amnesia; that she wasn't alone. Something in him lifted and he felt his hearts shattering. He knew; he had known the moment she had said she had painted all those photos. He smiled.
"You are not alone."