3: Energy

"Doctor!"

Martha ran down the garden path and out the gate as soon as she heard the familiar thrum of the TARDIS' engines. She did notice that it came down harder than usual, and bounced a little along the floor, but she needed the Doctor, and quickly overlooked this. It was all she could do to stop herself smothering the Doctor in kisses as soon as he came out of the blue police box. Instead, she threw her arms around him and enveloped him in such a hug that he couldn't get away; not that he wanted to. He returned it gladly and she pulled away before he did.

"You got my message, then? How are you?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes shining.

"Fine," the Doctor replied, and forced a smile which he really got into a few seconds later. "Martha Jones, this is Donna Noble. Donna Noble, this is Martha Jones. You both used to travel with me. Or… do travel with me."

Donna had come out of the TARDIS and shut the door behind her just as the Doctor and Martha were hugging, and had stepped further away from them than she felt was polite. It wasn't like she was particularly bothered about being friendly right now. She was worried about how the Doctor would hold up, although she needn't have been, she supposed. He could be so strong when he needed to be, from what she'd seen. And the effect of their 'counselling session' could be visibly observed, she thought. He seemed to be a lot more positive, and Donna could tell that he wasn't faking it.

"Hello," Martha said, smiling and giving Donna a nod. Donna nodded too and graced the woman with a smile.

"Doctor," Martha continued, turning to him, "I called you because there's something really weird happening in our study. It's wrong. Some weird sort of energy. I didn't know what to do, and then Mum suggested I call you and… I did. She guessed that you'd be the one to help, if anyone was going to help."

"Oh, she doesn't hate me so much then? She guessed right in any case," the Doctor said, flashing Martha a grin and running his hand through his already unkempt hair. "Let's have a look, then."

As Martha led them into her parents' house, she began to explain what had been going on in her life since she'd left the Doctor. "Mum and Dad are back together," she said, and the Doctor made a noise of approval and nodded. "Leo bet Tish it wouldn't last very long, but I think they really bonded over that year – Mum and Dad, I mean. It could work."

"Well, it's worked before," the Doctor said, accompanying this statement with another nod.

"Yeah, I know, but for a limited amount of time. I really hope they're going to be okay, the last thing they need is some other emotional trauma," Martha continued. The Doctor was about to apologise (without quite knowing why he subconsciously felt like apologising all the time) when she went on, "And Jack's invited me to go and work at Torchwood. It's located in Cardiff though, so it's quite far away. I'm not sure if I want to be that far away from my family, given what happened during that year. I can't decide. What do you think?"

The Doctor's eyes darkened visibly as she said 'I can't decide', memories of being pushed around in a wheelchair by a certified megalomaniac flooding back to him quite quickly, but he wiped the look on his face away after a few seconds and said, "Yeah, you might as well. Just as long as Jack actually did do what he said, and changed it around."

Martha nodded, and then looked over at Donna. "How do you know the Doctor, then?" she enquired.

"He ruined my wedding," Donna said simply. Martha looked over at the Doctor, who shrugged in response, as they reached a door and Martha opened it, stepping back to allow the Doctor and Donna to go in first, which they did.

The Doctor had to squint as he looked around the room, his eyes adjusting to the light. It was a normal study room, with a bookcase, a chair, a desk, a desktop computer, a bin on the right of the doorframe, and a window overlooking the house's garden. But Martha had been right; there was something wrong with it… something extremely wrong with it.

"I suppose you're talking about the walls?" Donna inquired.

Martha looked at her and nodded. "But it's not just the walls… it's everything. Literally, everything. The computer, the window – even the bin has it."

"Like some sort of energy," the Doctor put in, pulling his glasses out of his jacket pocket and ramming them onto his nose. "Some sort of… energy in the walls." He crouched down by the right wall, and ran his hand over it. "Doesn't feel like there's anything strange… just feels like a wall," he murmured, more to himself than the women in the room.

"I haven't touched anything since it's been happening, only the door and the floor," Martha admitted. "I didn't want to get into some sort of situation that I couldn't get out of when you weren't here. I didn't really want to get into some sort of situation that I couldn't get out of when you were here, either."

The Doctor stood up and took off his glasses, replacing them in his pocket. The walls were glowing red, pulsating, as if something wanted to come out of them but couldn't quite manage it. The Doctor found himself wondering why this type of energy – whatever it was – would choose a family's study to manifest in. Unless it was directly linked with Martha, and therefore directly linked with himself.

"Best not to touch it even though I have," he said, rubbing his chin with a hand. "It might affect humans for all we know."

"So you don't know what it is?" Donna interjected, looking around her concernedly at the amount of red energy there was.

"Um… well… basically…" The Doctor span around as he said this, inspecting everything in front and behind him. "Not a clue." Martha smiled slightly in memory of when he had last said this.

"It couldn't be anything to do with Huon particles, could it?" Donna suggested.

The Doctor gave her a strange look, as did Martha. "No, Donna. It couldn't." He then turned to Martha. "How long has this been here?"

"About three days."

"And how long has it been since we last spoke? Since I left in the TARDIS?" he asked.

"A couple of weeks."

"Weeks? But… you called me after a few hours… that doesn't make sense. Hold on a second." The Doctor strode to the door, which was now shut, and opened it. "Follow me as soon as I shut the door," he instructed. He then left the room and shut the door behind him.

The first thing he noticed was that it was dark in the corridor. When they had gone in, it wasn't dark because of the excessive amounts of daylight that had been streaming through the windows at either end. There had been no need for artificial light then, but there was now, because it was clearly dark outside.

The Doctor fumbled about for the light switch, and found it, turning it on. There was immediately a shout from downstairs.

"Martha? Is that you?" The Doctor didn't really know what to say, but he waited patiently as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and soon Francine Jones came into view. "Oh – Doctor!" she said, upon seeing him. She sounded quite surprised, and the Doctor gave her a little smile.

It was a superbly awkward moment. Neither of them had really spoken since the hug on the Valiant, and it had been extremely clear that Francine had disliked the Doctor immensely from the moment she had met him. Now, neither of them knew what to say.

The Doctor settled with a mumbled "Hello."

"You got Martha's call, then?"

"Yes, I did," the Doctor replied, nodding and putting his hands into his trouser pockets. "I'll have the study sorted out soon, Francine – Mrs Jones," he corrected himself, visibly swallowing. He hoped he didn't have a phobia of mothers now. He hated getting slapped. Hated it.

"And where's Martha?"

"She's… caught in a… it's a problem with time in that room. Nothing to worry about, she should be coming out in an hour or two."

"Coming out?" Francine repeated.

"Of the study. What if your closet had been affected by the energy, instead of the study? That would be quite hilarious." The Doctor laughed nervously, and at Francine's stony look he stopped and swallowed again. "Yes. Well. Not sure hilarious's the word… um… sorry about that. Depends on how you look at it I suppose. Well, I'd better be getting back to the TARDIS… will you tell Martha where I am if she comes out – of the study, that is, not the – the – anyway, let her know if she starts looking for me. Thank you."

He quickly sidestepped her and walked down the stairs. He knew that Martha and Donna were going to be a while; they had spent about five or ten minutes in there all together and it was already dark. He presumed that every minute spent in the room represented an hour outside of it, so they should be coming out a little later, at least, whilst he had to try and figure out what exactly was going on. They should be safe from harm in there; well, he hoped so, anyway.

He headed back to the TARDIS, opening the door and stepping inside gladly. It was a bit domestic in there for him, what with mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and two companions. Now he had time to think about the energy without the disturbance of two people asking him what was going on.

He had seen that energy before, he was sure of it. He just couldn't think of where he had seen it, which wasn't useful. Maybe a quick scan of the TARDIS' library would help him.

x

A good long time later, as he sat in the library, his vision obscured by piles upon piles of books, he realised that a quick scan of the TARDIS' library had actually been an incredibly long trawl through hundreds of books that were now piled in front of him, and that this hadn't helped him in the slightest. He sighed and climbed over the back of the sofa, careful not to kick the books that had been in front of him with his feet as he went over.

Suddenly, a good place to look hit him: the attic of the TARDIS. He'd thrown so much pointless junk up there, and maybe it would help him… no, he wouldn't say that again, because it was likely to jinx it if he did. But to the attic he went, climbing up the stairs and pushing open the trapdoor, climbing into the huge room.

He coughed as his feet stirred up some forgotten dust on the floor. He looked around him as the dust settled and realised just how mammoth a task this was going to be. The TARDIS had made the attic bigger and bigger to fit his needs, and since the Doctor juts kept on throwing things up here, it had become pretty big. No, not pretty big – massive. Huge. Ridiculously large.

He was just about to get started on some of the more recent objects when he heard a voice calling his name. A very loud, obnoxious voice that he recognised to be Donna's. Sighing resignedly, he realised that he had wasted too much time in the library and that he was going to have to continue this task later… if there was a later. He climbed back down the ladder, pushed it up, and hooked the trapdoor shut. He then headed back to the control room.

"There you are!" Donna said, folding her arms across her chest. "What the hell happened? As soon as we came out, you were gone. And it was dark."

The Doctor sighed. "Time's not right in there. The energy that's coming from the walls is creating a generation disturbance. For every minute you spend in that room, an hour passes you by outside. It's… not good."

"But it's not bad?" Martha asked.

"It's bad," the Doctor replied, shifting his feet. "I'm a Time Lord – I just don't lose track of time like that, not without noticing. But when I was in that room… it was like it blocked out my time sense. That's never a good thing – in fact, that's a very, very bad thing."

Donna and Martha exchanged looks. "So you still don't know what it is?" Martha said, after a moment.

"No," the Doctor admitted. "I was about to have a rummage through the attic of the TARDIS, because I recognise that energy, but I can't for the life of me remember where from. Then you two came in and… well, that was interrupted."

There was another pause, and Donna took the opportunity to say, "Look, Doctor. It's around seven o' clock now, in the evening. Outside the TARDIS, that is. Martha's invited us to have dinner with her."

The Doctor glanced at Martha, and then looked back at Donna. Was she trying to make him domesticated?

"I think it'd be a good idea. It'll give us more time to think about what's going in the study, and I don't know about you, but I'm hungry," Donna continued, looking the Doctor straight in the eye.

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yeah, but…"

"Doctor!" Donna snapped, her tone of voice sharp and suggesting that she wasn't to be argued with on this one.

"Yes, yes, all right!" the Doctor answered irritably. "Fine. We'll have dinner. Never mind the generation disturbance in the study, where life could pass you by if you sat in there for too long, we'll have dinner. Dinner will be good!"

Donna clicked her tongue angrily and stormed out of the TARDIS. Martha looked a little embarrassed. "Mum's serving up now, Doctor. If you're… if you're coming." After saying this, she left the TARDIS quite quickly.

The Doctor let a frustrated noise come out of his throat, and he ran his hands through his hair, mangling it considerably more than it was already. This wasn't going to be his idea of a good time.

x

Dinner was incredibly awkward.

He had known that it would be, of course. There was no denying that. It was clear that, in part, Martha's mother still blamed him for everything that had happened to their family. She was adamant that without Martha, the Doctor would have been completely helpless and useless.

She said so at the table, although not in so many words. The Doctor hadn't quite gotten over the events of the year that never was himself, so he hated to dwell for too long on how Martha's family felt about it.

It was the humiliation that he was submitted to at the hands of the Master that had hurt him so. He wouldn't say that this had hurt him the most, exactly. But having to eat out of a dog's bowl, living in a makeshift kennel, hardly being able to move because of his years. He hated it when the Master brought a mirror down every morning, showing him his withered face. He had taken looking and feeling young for granted. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

And as for when he had been made into a creature resembling a house elf from Harry Potter… it didn't really bear thinking about. Even now, the Doctor got pangs of pain in his chest whenever he did dare to think about it, which wasn't often. He was always distracting himself from it, always on the go.

And it was how the Master wouldn't let him help. Ever since he'd known that Professor Yana was a Time Lord, ever since he'd realised it was the Master, ever since he'd talked to him on the phone, evenrsince he'd been thrown to the floor in front of the other Time Lord, the Doctor had wanted to do nothing more than help him. But he was denied that and submitted to humiliation. He had been a prisoner in his own body.

"Doctor!"

Donna's commanding voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and a good thing too. He had been slumped unceremoniously in his chair, clearly lost in his mind. He looked up and straightened, shifting slightly in the chair.

"What?"

"Pass the vegetables."

The Doctor furrowed his brow, but leant forward and took the dish, passing them along to Donna and then dipping his head again to eat his own food. There was silence except for the clanking of cutlery on plates and the occasional scraping noise.

"So, do you know what's wrong with the study yet, Doctor?"

The Doctor looked up, at Francine Jones, who was looking directly at him. "Ah – no," he said, squirming uncomfortably. "Not yet."

"I think Martha's counting on you," she said, and the Doctor felt, if possible, even more uncomfortable.

"Right. Well," he said, his voice higher than usual, "I need to–" he cleared his throat, and his voice returned to its normal pitch "–use the bathroom." He stood up and crossed the room, leaving through the door and proceeding to lean against the wall in the corridor. Domestic. He never knew that this body could be so conscious about doing domestic.

"Doctor." He looked to his right, and saw it was Donna. Couldn't she just leave him be for a moment? "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said in response, grinding his teeth. "I really do just need the bathroom."

"Then why are you slumped out here?" The Doctor didn't reply, and Donna smiled knowingly. "I know it's a bit awkward in there, but I'm sure that you'll work through it. You always do, yeah?"

The Doctor dropped his gaze to his trainers, shifting his toes uncomfortably. "Whatever happened really affected you, didn't it?" she continued. The Doctor nodded. "You don't have to be strong all the time, you know." Donna patted him gently on the shoulder before returning to the dining room.

Even with Donna's caring words, the Doctor still didn't want to follow her back in there. In fact, he would rather have liked to run back into the TARDIS, slamming the door behind him, but he realised that that would be childish. So instead he walked up the stairs, back towards the study.

It wouldn't hurt to have a nose around it on his own. He could leave the door open so that he would not be affected by the generation disturbance, and everyone would be happy by the time he arrived back at the dinner table. He hoped.

He pushed the door open and went inside, taking the bin and using it to prevent the door from shutting. He then turned his attention to the room, walking forwards and standing in the middle of it. Immediately, little bits of red energy began to crackle around his shoes. He was reminded of the time he had met The Wire, which had taken the faces of people because it was 'hungry'.

Suddenly, he heard the slamming of what was unmistakeably the door, and he turned round. The bin was back to its original position before he had moved it, and the door was shut. He began to run towards the door, intending on pulling it open, but quickly realised that he couldn't move forwards. He was rooted to the spot. Panicking slightly now, he tried to move the other way, towards the window. He found that he was able to do this.

The Doctor tried every means possible to get back to the door, but every time he reached the centre of the room widthways, he got stuck and was unable to move. It forced him to conclude that there was now an invisible wall running along the centre of the room, preventing him from getting to the door, for some reason.

It was then that he noticed the computer.

It was crackling with what looked like red and purple lightning bolts, and the Doctor was, unsurprisingly, intrigued. He moved forward and sat down on the chair at the desk, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and running it over the monitor. Disappointed, he replaced the sonic screwdriver, bent down to the tower, and turned it on at the switch.

He regretted that almost as soon as he'd done it. He straightened up and the monitor seemed to fizz, engulfing him in the red and purple lightning bolts, which began to crackle around his body. They held him down. He did try to get up, but it was almost as if the bolts were ropes, keeping him bound to the chair. He struggled, and tried to fight it, but he found himself being worn down considerably as he tried.

And then something completely unexpected happened. He felt his body lurch, and was aware, for a split second, that he was being sucked into the computer's monitor.